I know what I should say. I should say that the historic buildings were the best. Yes, it was very cool seeing Shakespeare's grave, walking along Hadrian's Wall, and taking in Henry VIII's immense trail of ruin.
A part of me wants to say that the out-of-doors was my favorite thing. Like the tucked-away villages of the Cotswolds, framed by fields of lavender. Or the towering stands of trees punctuating the tiny, winding roads we drove upon. Or the mysterious, expansive moors that welcomed us to Scotland.
And then there were the awesome people we met. Funny, open, welcoming and generous, they certainly provided several highlights of my vacation.
But I'm not sure any of those was my favorite thing.
Force my hand, though, and I know what I'd say. My favorite thing about the trip is my favorite thing about life--the connections that were made--connections between me and history, me and the land, me and the people.
Honestly, that's what gets me out of bed each day--the love of the synapse, that awesome feeling that comes when something or someone crosses my path and I happen to be paying attention. And the more that I pay attention, it seems the more that life astounds me. You'd think all that "rinse and repeat" would dull my senses, but it doesn't. It only jazzes me more.
Isn't that amazing?
Where we'd expect to find an inverse relationship--the rarer the recognition, the deeper the appreciation--we find instead a straightforward relationship between the two--the more I see, the more I love. And, as if that isn't enough, it turns out that the more toned my observational muscles get, the more thrills I get from smaller and simpler things.
This is really good news for me, because it takes me a long, long time to raise enough money to jump across the big pond. And, while I hope to always make time to travel in my life, I also hope--more fervently--that I make time to take notice where it is that I am right now. And to relish what it is that crosses within my sites each day.
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