In my head, I’m a world traveler the likes of which rivals Carmen Sandiego. In truth, I’ve crossed a few state lines in my 30 plus years, but when I think about where I’ve been in these United States hasn’t been too far from my own backyard. When it comes to international travel, I could count on one hand how many times I’ve had my passport stamped in the past 10 years.
Often times when we plan a trip, our itinerary is slam packed with things to do, people to visit and places to see. DH and I are at a place in our lives when we’d rather do off the beaten path type of trips rather than the traditional mega city whirlwinds. I’m ready to just pack my toothbrush and leave the Fodor’s at home on the shelf.
Imagine waking up in a cozy room, overlooking the quaint cobblestoned streets of a village of Luberon. I can totally see myself sipping a cafe au lait and doing some serious people watching in Gordes before heading off to haggle at the market. The vielles dames will coo and cluck like sweet hens over the girls, pinching their cheeks and chucking their chins. We’ll get a baguette, some grapes or cherries, and snack in the village square. “Let’s get some bikes and lost in Lacoste”, DH will say. The sun will set in lush colors of ochre and lavender as he and I sip wine on the outdoor patio of any of the abundant vineyards. We’ll leave dusty red footprints from our walk of the Colorado de Rustrel in Roussillon.
It used to be, with every trip, I’d stuff ticket stubs, photographs, and travel brochures in my journal. Now I see, experience is the best souvenir.