They Call Me The Wanderer
I think it’s in my blood. Engrained in my nature. What fulfills my soul.
This thing I speak of, is travel.
The need to wander. Explore. To learn.
The thought of visiting new places and experiencing new things consumes me, but in a good way, I think. Remembering my experiences, keeping touch with friends I met on my travels, learning about new places and planning trips to these destinations are what make me happy. I really can’t explain it, yet I have embraced it wholeheartedly.
My parents never felt the need to travel to Europe or to Mexico or anywhere else. They didn’t really agree with how I was spending my money or my time. However, thanks to the support of other family members, coworkers, and friends who thought it was “cool” and “amazing” that I was going off on my own, they now have accepted that this is just who I am and what I do.
My day job as a relief pharmacist keeps me on my toes and on the road more often than it allows me to be at home. Add travel to the mix and it shouldn’t be hard for you to believe that in one summer between May and November I had spend a total of 13 nights in my own apartment. I would arrive in the evening, repack my suitcase while enjoying a show or two on Netflix, loving the comfort of sleeping in my own bed for about 7 hours and then leaving for the next place in the morning. Eventually I came to the conclusion that it was no longer worth it to have my own place. Conversations with friends often begin with, “where are you these days?” “will you be in [town/city] anytime soon?” or “when/where’s the next adventure?” People will tell me to let them know when I’m home later that day, and when I call them back they ask, “are you home home? or in a hotel?” because I now consider whatever hotel I’m staying in at that given moment, “home.” When I meet new people, I tend to amuse them when I hesitate to answer their question, "So, where are you from?” I never know how to answer!
For example, I had a call today from the regulatory body for pharmacists in Saskatchewan. There is an election coming up and they wanted to make sure they had me in the proper jurisdiction. The woman on the other end of the phone said to me, “so, we have you listed as working in Saskatoon, but we have you as living in Estevan? Is that correct?” For those of you that don’t know, Saskatoon and Estevan are about a 4.5-5 hour drive apart. I laughed before explaining that their records were, in fact, correct. That I’m a relief pharmacist, never home, and therefore I get my mail sent to my parent’s place. She laughed and said she would make a note on my file so they wouldn’t have to call me about that again.
Yet another example that comes to mind was when I first moved out of my apartment and put all my belongings into a storage unit. I puzzled the lady behind the desk when I requested a Tennant insurance policy but not for an apartment, for a storage unit. You see, the problem was my storage unit was in Saskatoon and contains everything I own except for a few things which I use on a regular basis, such as work clothes and toiletries. But I do not technically reside anywhere, and my mailing address is in Estevan. Yup, I know. Nothing but trouble, haha. In the end she was able to figure out what I needed and gave me the policy that would suit me best.
Yes, my life is kind of crazy sometimes, trying to juggle it all. Somewhere along the way it has become my identity. It offers me so many amazing experiences that make it all worthwhile.
It’s in my blood, this travel bug. I don’t think I will ever get rid of it.
I don’t think I want to.