There's a little bit of wanderlust in all of us. We all want to see different parts of the world, to get lost in an undiscovered culture, and to live on the edge of cliffs and flight times. There's a little bit of a traveler in all of us, no matter where you might be choosing to go. There are differences, however, in the company each traveler keeps.
I grew up traveling with my family. I was never a solo traveler, and only recently began jet setting with friends. I was raised through summers with suitcases shared with my little sister. I was brought up at home as well as abroad therefore learning that there is more to discover than just a city's history when traveling with family. You learn about your kin, your parent's past, and your sibling's dreams. You understand more about yourself, as well as where you came from.
You learn to appreciate your parents more from the top of the Eiffel Towel for enriching your world. You learn about their childhoods from the floor of your hotel room in Rome. You get to test out their dancing skills at a neighborhood festival at your grandmother's in Poland. You learn how your sister doesn't like the taste of beer, but prefers red wine with soda in Madrid. You learn the importance of compromise when everyone wants to see something else. You learn so much more than what the museum guide could tell you.
I spent my summers driving through the countryside of Poland from one grandparent's house to the next. I spent my days looking out of the window and thinking how cool my parents were for being from here, risking it all leaving here, and then sharing it with me by going back. Summers were exhausted by big family dinners I never had in the states, castle tours, candle-lit garden nights, and mountain climbing. They were beautiful summers, and I grew to love my family more for showing me their expansive worlds.
Each summer we'd pick another destination other than my family's homes. From Germany to the Czech Republic I collected stamps on my passport with a grin and a book under my arm. I'd tell my parents my dreams between flights. They changed each summer, and each summer I'd have a different boyfriend to tell my aunts about, if one at all. I was always someone new to get to know when I returned, and I loved coming back to the neighborhoods that never changed. I always loved marking my height in my grandmother's pantry, but was disappointed when I stopped growing after 16.
So there's a little bit of wanderlust in all of us, and mine stems from my mother and father. I hope I am blessed enough to bring up my children in the same worldly fashion. I am grateful for the places that they've taken me, the history that they've taught me, and the sagas to continue because of their good graces. I have a wandering heart mostly because they took me by the hand and walked with me to make me not afraid of new things and old things and all things.
They took me by the hands and swung me through the streets of Hamburg as well as in the states between California and Colorado. They acknowledged European drinking ages versus the United States in Geneva and Annecy. They learned how I like my tea in different countries, and I learned how they'd like their daughter to grow up to be: smart, genuine, curious, and loyal.
From traveling with my family I learned that you could survive with the clothes on your back if your bags get lost. I learned that sleeping in airports isn't unheard of and that toilet paper in Europe kind of sucks. Never anything extravagant, never anything outrageous, but everything just enough to get us by when our feet were too tired from walking. I think I grew the most not in grade school or college, but in the summers I was sharing one-bedroom apartments with my family. I think I grew up because I was closer to them to teach me the right way how. It was simply a plus to do it from the top of the Swiss Alps.
I learned how to not freak out about little things like boarding times or not being able to talk to your cab driver. Of course I could've learned some of these things on my own, but it's always better with your mom's hand on your shoulder to calm you down. I could've learned a lot about my family from back home but instead I learned about them in salt mines in Krakow and grocery stores in Radom. I'm grateful to see where their parents raised them so I can be inspired how to raise mine -- when the time comes.
I learned how to treat my money wisely and that travel is far better than a designer handbag. I learned what I want to work for and how hard I want to work for it; and that memories are better than shopping sprees. I learned that ice cream is always better abroad and that it's better to just follow my dad than question if he knows where he's going. I learned that I love to see different walks of life so that I could appreciate and aspire more for mine. I learned more than AP history or college classes taught me.
Traveling with my family is a part of my life I wouldn't trade. It's a part of a journey that is only the beginning. I plan to one day return the favor and gift them with new views that they have yet to see. I hope that one day my children will get to live out of those suitcases just like I did, and that they will put their heights up next to mine in the same pantry. You see, there are differences in the company each traveler may keep. I'm lucky to have seen a good part of the world by my mid-twenties, but I could never have done it without my family.
