Well, almost unnoticed. I was doing a clean-up of one of my old gmail accounts when I realised that it has been ten years (TEN YEARS!!!) since Mr Turnip's and my big trip to the Middle East. It was our backpackery honeymoon, a two-month adventure book-ended by our New Zealand and Singapore weddings.
It was life-changing for me, and remains one of the most joyous times of my life. A time I felt deeply aware that I was alive, and how privileged I was to have the life I did.
So, in honour of the trip that became affectionately known as The Camel Diaries (even spawning a now defunct blog of the same name), I will repost something I wrote back in 2007. Back in a simpler time before kids, responsibilities and mortgages.
After 31 years, I can recognise the pattern. Every few months or so, I tend to get this incredible urge to go someplace else, or to borrow from my old friend J, be elsewhere. Living in New Zealand, it was pretty easy. Get into the car, drive to the coast or to the hills and go for a long walk. Invariably followed by chocolate. Urge satiated. Just like that.
I could try to be a tourist in my own country. You know, like what G. K. Chesterton said about setting foot on one's own country as a foreign land.
But that's just not quite enough for me. Sorry to get all quotey again but I used to have this Robert Louis Stevenson quote written in my diary in secondary school.
I travel not to go anywhere, but to go. I travel for travel's sake. The great affair is to move.
I can't help it - I just love getting into a car, plane, boat, train, sampan, cyclo, tuk tuk, anything really, and getting to the scary unknown beyond.
Maybe it's the fact that tomorrow marks the two year anniversary of our return to Singapore. And I just miss good ol space. Or maybe it's the fact that I'm just tired from a hard week at work and wish I could reclaim those carefree days in between jobs (and countries) where we traipsed all around Jordan with one of my favourite people J (gawd, look how young we look back then! gulp).