I like to travel. I enjoy going to new places, particularly places I haven't been before. I love seeing new things, trying new foods, and visiting new cultures. However, I generally prefer those ideas in the abstract. In reality, one of my funniest travel stories has to do with how irritable one can become after two weeks of unusual food. Nonetheless, I want to travel extensively in my life, a fact that is one of the reasons I wanted to become an anthropologist.

Now that I am older, wiser, and with a few thousand more miles under my belt than I had when I first decided on that career path, it has become apparent to me that I am no longer allowed to travel. If I have plans to go somewhere, (or god forbid, actual plane tickets) a sort of ingenious system goes into effect that will thwart my efforts to get to the place I am going to, at least in a reasonable fashion. I always eventually get where I'm going, I just don't always get there gracefully. For example, when I left Alaska after the summer of '01, an event that I had looked forward to with only slightly less enthusiasm than I would have reserved for someone handing me a big bag of money for being a wonderful human being, I had plane tickets for September 12th. 'Nuff said.

Either in 2007 or 2008, I will circumnavigate the globe. You have been warned.

the great canadian adventure | europe on one passport a week | the other great canadian adventure | notes from a mud punt

adventures had by others
in which canada is terrorized again, but not by me