Oh, the places you'll go...

Gosh, I love travel. The problem with loving travel is that it really sort of puts a dent in your finances and your love life and any desire to "settle down" or "make something of yourself" and buy a home or a car or furniture that can't be deflated.

Since 18, I've been a traveling fiend. I lived in Italy that year, and turned 19 while at the Cannes Film Festival. I saw Bosnia-Herzegovina and Croatia for the first time, where I discovered Dubrovnik, one of my favorite cities. The next year I was living in Oaxaca, and studying ethnobotany and indigenous peoples. Then, Barcelona when I was 21 - that was the year I became obsessed with Dali's wife, Gala, and I saw the running of the bulls in Pamplona. At 22, I moved to New York for about half a year. NY is still the sort of love of my life.

23 saw Dublin, London and Paris, where the pastries were just as amazing as they looked and came in every color, even green. At 23 I returned to Spain, but this time to Madrid and discovered one of the most beautiful cities in the world, Toledo - about an hour outside of the capitol. At 25, I went to the southern hemisphere for the first time and visited Auckland in New Zealand. And 26 (and love) brought me to New Zealand again - and NZ led me to Rarotonga in the Cook Islands, Sydney and Bangkok, where I saw ping pongs shooting out of vaginas and where I learned that I could pass as Thai. That brings me to 27, which I just turned on May 19. It snowed on my birthday.

I mean, when you think of it, most people's dreams are of traveling. They spend their whole lives saving up and getting decrepit so they can finally have time to see the world. But - having noted that most travelers are wrinkly Germans - by the time one retires, they end up avoiding the mountain hikes (because of bad knees) and the humid climates (because of heat exhaustion) and the crazy tuk-tuk or cab drivers (don't want to have a heart attack) and the hostels where you can become best friends with an Australian overnight and the subways (all those stairs) and the 6 hour bus rides (hip replacement) and the long city walks (it's hard doing that with a walker). I actually like seeing older folks getting out and living, but why doesn't living start a lot earlier than 60? Aren't we entitled to more than 5 or 10 days off a year? Americans are unique in that we work harder than any other people in the West and we get the least vacation time, almost no job security and the worst healthcare benefits. And what about the people like my grandparents - who have worked all their lives, are in their 70s, and who still don't feel like they can spare the money to travel? Only something around 25% of Americans even have a passport. And that isn't right. Everyone deserves to see the world they're a part of, and the US is not a third world nation whose citizens should be living like paupers. Oooh. I need to deeply exhale.

You might wonder how I do all this traveling. It's a simple financial plan: 1. Work for 1 or 1.5 years. 2. Save as much as possible by living in the least-posh neighborhood of the closest still-savvy, big city (you'll save on commuting and entertainment. Bigger cities have more free entertainment, like book readings, free film screenings, gallery openings, and free mueseum days). 3. Quit your job. 4. Spend all that money on crazy adventures! Fall in love and possibly get food poisoning. Anywho.. here are some photos from my travels in the past few months. Hope you lik-ee. Pic 5: Cook Islands: my hand on a starfish in lagoon. Pic 4: Cook Islands lagoon, Pic 3: Bangkok breakfast of dragonfruit and lychees, Pic 2: baby tiger on my lap at Tiger Temple outside of Bangkok. Pic 1: Marlborough Sounds in NZ