I’d be lying if I said this trip was spontaneous.
I’ve thought about it for years, maybe even decades.
Pack up the car on a sunny morning, no working days in sight.
Leave town by mid-afternoon, going south to warmer weather, culture, and fine
sand beaches. I had visualized it even
before I watched Andy Dufresne escape into Mexico in Shawshank Redemption. And
because I lived in San Diego, California almost all of my life, I always imagined
driving south into Mexico. But now I live in Sofia, Bulgaria, so this summer trip
will take us south into Greece and the Mediterranean Sea and…
Again, I’d be lying if I said there was no plan or ideal destinations in mind.
I’ve been studying maps of the region, researching ferries to islands, and
have already made a few reservations in Greece. Beyond Greece, my girlfriend and I
plan on taking a ferry to Italy. We have no set plan once there, only countless
places of interest. After that, we’re thinking about looping back along the
coast of Croatia, Montenegro, and Albania as we eventually return to Sofia.
It is a dream that will soon become a reality. I’m excited. We
leave in three short weeks. And I only
have a few basic worries about the trip which-- now that I think of them-- makes me
remember that worrying is a complete waste of time. Will our car make the journey without breaking down? Will we have
enough money to last the entire summer? Will the relationship between my girlfriend and I thrive or
suffer during our forty days on the road? If I worry about any of this,
will it make a difference? No. Things will happen and the trip will unfold the
way it was meant to. Though most of us don’t like to admit it, so much is outside of
our control.
This might be the most frightening thing about the journey.
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