In the last five weeks, I’ve:
- Packed up the entire contents of my life, fit it into my car and moved to Austin
- Spent a weekend in Houston visiting old friends
- Spent a weekend in San Antonio visiting old friends
- Spent four days in San Francisco visiting old friends
The travel hangover is further induced by the fact that I’ve been stuck in a boot for two weeks, unable to exercise. It’s amazing how much physical activity affects your mood.
“Travel hangovers are the worst,” Sally Grace writes in the blog post I forced her to write for me. “They don’t set in the morning after you return. When you get back, your journey isn’t done yet. Seeing everybody you’ve missed and seeing familiar sights anew, that’s still part of the adventure. But eventually, everyone has heard your stories, you’ve cleaned your feet and it is truly over.”
It feels somewhat ridiculous to compare a few domestic, weekend trips to a crazy Eurotrip, but travel is travel, and whether it’s two days or two months, the hangover still hits you, and the itch still itches.
So you continue to fantasize about Oslo, Sydney and Kabul. You keep pinning the “travel dos and don’ts,” the “10 things every traveler needs to know” and the “how to explore France on foot” pins. You sew your newest patch to your travel backpack, and you plan carefully and strategically for the next adventure, digging up every ounce of motivation and discipline you have to enjoy your normal routine, to find pleasure in being at home, to indulge in the familiar comforts.