Six Months, Eight Countries, and Countless Cups of Tea

Greetings Hooligans,

I left the United States with promises to blog as often as I could. Here I am, 6 months, 8 countries, and countless cups of tea later finally writing about my travels. I wish I could say that at least I posted a couple of pictures online, but I never provided any context so I can see where that wouldn't curtail your curiosity. I even added my favorite foot picture which said nothing but where I was and more than likely seemed a bit strange. Let me tell you about that one now.

I realized quite quickly in my solo travels that I am utterly incapable of thinking deeply of culture and history all of the time. One moment I'd be walking through Castillo Gibralfaro pondering the lives of its citizens during its prime and the next I'd be wondering how it would do by means of zombie fortification (Not very well).  I wish I could declare the "Zombie Contemplation of Gibralfaro" an isolated incident, but it doesn't take legilimency to know that that isn't the case. But even though I spent a disproportionate amount of time contemplating how the Doctor would react to certain points of history or what sort of aliens could get involved to create the biggest impact, I still found myself taking the time to truly appreciate what I was seeing for its historical resonances. I found myself feeling incredibly small staring up at the dome in the St. Peter's Basillica, I marveled at the artistry that was possible thousands of years ago while walking through the museums in Greece, and it took a peaceful stroll along the Ohre River to get my breathing under control after walking through the Concentration Camp in Terezin.

One thing I often found myself contemplating that I'm not sure many do, was the ground I was walking over (and also my poor feet that I tortured by walking miles a day in less than appropriate footwear). I initially started taking pictures of my feet to say I am Here.  To remind myself for years to come of the moment I truly internalized that I was somewhere new where I never thought I could be; The feeling that says "I made it!" and then steps forward to encounter even more. But as most things do, it began to grow outside of myself. When I'd point my lens down at ground I'd find myself marveling at the texture of the terrain. It started simply and I'd wonder how many other people had slid through the muddy streets of Kenya and had to spend the rest of the day with mud splatters to their knees or how many other tourists had walked an entire day through the cobblestoned streets of Rome without tripping or stubbing their toes and felt that moment of triumph.

It didn't take long for me to question just how many people had stood on the ground before me and just how far back they dated. How many millions of people have stood looking at the Clock Tower from this exact spot? How can something so simple become so iconic? Or did these stones in Versailles date all the way back to the time before the French Revolution?  Did Marie Antoinette herself take strolls in the same path I was walking?

Soon I found myself looking down and feeling the weight of history in each step. I'd turn back in time and wonder what the streets of Pompeii looked like both in the every day life of its citizens, but also in the moments before it was wiped out by Vesuvius. Would people be running over the very ground I stood on or would those who hadn't already fled be seeking the insufficient shelters of their homes or temples? With such little information I could only wonder.

And for some of these moments out of all of these contemplations I took pictures of my feet, to remind myself that not only had I stood there, but that my standing there was only one brief moment out of the long and storied histories of all of these locations, and that no matter how small a moment it was in the shape and history of the world it still meant the world to me.

So there you go, Hooligans. I hope you learned a little tidbit about my travels today, or how my mind functions, or at the very least had a laugh at either my clumsiness or similarity to the country mouse visiting town. No matter what, I wish you the best.

Nicole

P.S. I really truly intend to post again soon, but I make no promises. Writing is hard especially when you have to write about yourself. I'll do my best for you.

P.P.S. Thanks feet for enduring all of the miles I've walked in insufficient footwear.