En Avion

In an airport once more, this time flying back to MA, from whence I’ll be driving to Vermont with my roommate to visit a friend. After a night in VT we’ll make our voyage to Montreal, Canada!

I have literally driven up to the border of Canada before, but because I was on a Youth Group trip and not everyone had their passports we did not cross over. So I’ve travelled to Uganda, Rwanda, Burundi (briefly), Kenya (even more briefly), Côte d’Ivoire (super briefly), and Ghana (not briefly) but I’ve never been to my bordering nation. Go figure; that is so American.

I’m eager to go Montreal for a number of reasons (one of which I will not publish, but I have no doubt your powers of intuition will assuage any doubt in your mind). First among these reasons is that I’ve been told Montreal is the closest thing to a European city on the North American continent. As I have never been to Europe, this is something I am anticipating highly; however, I make no assumptions in that my five years of French will do me very much good. Apparently Quebecoise (spelling?) is a language unto itself. But that’s all part of the experience!

Furthermore, and perhaps even most of all, this will be my first road trip where:

1. I will be doing the bulk of the driving (my Dad and I split the driving evenly on the trek up to Massachusetts this January)
2. It’s only me and my friends! Austin, Brenna, and I are pretty tight and while we’re sad not all the ladies could travel with us, this trip will certainly be part of the collegiate experience!
3. As John Green said in his college advice vlog ROAD TRIPS ARE AN INTEGRAL PART OF YOUR COLLEGE LIFE. Therefore, I am about to embark on my first college road trip, something of a necessity (according to John Green) to being young and alive and enrolled in an institution of higher learning. (Additionally: if you have not watched this vlogbrothers video, or any of them, I highly recommend it. The Brothers Green are why I got into vlogging at all, and their witticisms and quirks are most wonderful).

And lastly but not least(ly), travelling is always a prime opportunity to learn. I often feel, like Christopher McCandless once did, that I learn best and more when out in this wide world, sans classroom, textbooks, professors. Obviously, as I go to a Seven Sisters school, I value my higher education very much (very, very, VERY much) but there is something so alluring in the open road. Something profound in being lost and relying on your gut and a piece of paper to get you back on the right path again. It is so oft said that it is not the destination, but the journey that matters. Is it in this perpetual journeying I am attempting to find the route? Or is it merely an insatiable curiosity?

Rest assured, as this is the blog where I document my attempts at satisfying my bottomless case of wanderlust, there will be photos and blog posts abounding post road trippin’.

I’ll see you on the other side!

-lizzie

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current jam: “die die die” the avett brothers & “the king of spain” the tallest man on earth

best thing in my life right now: seeing my massachusetts and moho family soon!

days until (tentative) departure: 78

Taking Wing

Two Disclaimers: 

1. This is posted hours post-writing, and,

2.In the abstract, this post is entirely about in Uganda, if not in practical terms. Yet I did title this blog “Wandering Writes” with the intent of documenting ALL my traveling endeavors, across the globe and even merely down the Appalachian Mountains.  So here it is: my first official journey since beginning this blog.

I’m going home; Mount Holyoke is on spring break and I am currently sitting in the rationalized chaos that is Bradley International Airport. Much to my chagrin, both my flights are delayed. Fortunately for me, though, it could be much worse.

I could, you know, hate airports. Or be terrified of planes. Or have a wretched case of the flu. I have none of these things (knocks on wood). In fact, quite the contrary; I love airports, I love flying even more, and love my health (she writes while coughing…lovely).  I’ve been on planes since I was mere months old and have always loved that terrifying, jittering sensation you get as the beastly contraption rattles down the runway and begins to take wing.

There is nothing so magical to me as flying- I’ve wanted to get my pilot’s license since I was in the third grade and was Neil Armstrong for the Wax Museum. Last semester I wrote a twenty-page paper on the WASPs (not White Anglo-Saxon Protestants, but the Women’s Airforce Service Pilots, the division of the American Army Air Force in WWII. Badass women with cosmetics endorsements while ferrying planes and kicking butt) and, needless to say, have seen more Amelia Earhart bio-pics and documentaries than I care to confess.

I prefer window seats, especially in red eye flights. You watch the sun rise, high above the clouds, long before the sleepy little people below get to. The whole sky, so blinding, like you’ve gone into a world painted in gold and hues of red. When I was small I thought by sitting at the window I could look out and see angels lounging in their ethereal paradise, making music.

But in terms of earthly pleasures, you get free drinks (well, “free” in the loosest sense…) and have the opportunity to talk to strangers (even undertaking fake accents if you wish) and people-watch (my favorite part of airports).

I love imagining where people are going, coming from, thinking, dreaming, wishing. Airports are so rushed until you get to the waiting; you run and run and run through checking in and security and terminal-searching until finally you secure a small black seat and…wait. And wait. And wait.

It’s the waiting I find so intriguing; it’s weird, but in the way people wait you can learn so much about them (or imagine). Like the pensieve looking businessman next to me: maybe he has a secret love for space movies or enjoying jumping jacks more than any other kind of exercise. It’s not hard to derive what mother-on-the-run has got on her mind: Keep. The. Kids. Together.

It could be so much worse. I mean, it is raining and five p.m. so I’m pretty skeptical that there will be dazzling cloud havens to occupy my time once in the air, but you know. I’ll be home soon.

Whatever "home" means.

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current jam: "barton hollow" the civil wars

best thing in my life right now: the firebolt, my car. and NOT paying for valley transporter to haul my sorry broke self to the airport.

days until (tentative) departure: 85