My First Time

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I will always remember the first time. After borrowing a small amount of cash from my parents and saving all the money I could while working minimum wage, I boarded a Greyhound bus that made the 68 hour trek from Saskatoon Saskatchewan, to Lake Worth Florida. For two-and-a-half days I stared out the bus window as my world turned from fields, to small hills (at least they were to a prairie girl), to palm trees. I still remember getting off that bus in May of 1998 completely in awe of what I had just done. As I took a picture of my first palm tree I knew I was hooked; nothing would ever be the same again. The smells were different, the air was different, even the ground I walked on was different. In less than three days I had gone from small town girl in Manitoba (my town only had 250 people) who had moved to her first city only 2 years prior, to seeing the ocean for the first time.

For the next four weeks I met tones of new people and played in the ocean while studying at a small school - with an even smaller class - to learn how to work on cruise ships. Many say the class was a waste of time and money, but it worked, so I didn’t care. Through the school I was set up for employment a whole week-and-a-half before I even graduated the course. I was able to relax and enjoy the rest of the course without worrying about how I was going to get home. I remember four weeks of late nights hanging out on that beach in Florida - located only a few blocks where I was staying. The salt air was intoxicating, as was the fresh ocean breeze.

For the next several years I got paid to travel, experiencing numerous ports of The Caribbean Islands, Alaska, Florida, and Central America. I finally returned to Canada to attend University. However, the old yearning is still there; I still wish to walk the most beautiful beaches in the world, exploring new and exciting places I have not yet been to (which are many - perhaps a little more inland next time?), and trying all sorts of different local cuisines, not to mention meeting interesting people and making friendships that will last - and have lasted - for years.

For the few months before leaving Saskatoon people would try to discourage me from going. “You won’t be able to get across the border!” “The Islands are sketchy, you will only get raped!” “You will get kidnapped, and we don’t have the money for ransom!” were a few of the things people would say, as they tried to discourage me from getting on that bus. These were all opinions from people who had never gone further than their front porches.

What is it about travel that has the potential to get a person’s blood pumping? Why are people mystified by other cultures? What is it about it that make some people (who have no debts, children, or attachments) feel like it is so unobtainable and not an option? Why is it that some people get addicted, and others do not? And lastly, what is it about travel that is just so bloody wonderful? I don’t know if I will ever be able to articulate it, and I am not even sure if I care to even ponder these questions with too philosophical of a mind. All I know is that once University is done, I plan to continue enjoying it, right down to my last sunset.

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Photos

Marina
A small Marina at a Port in Belize.