As I’ve been traveling about this past week-and will be continuing so through the weekend-I’ve been reminded of my natural desire and enjoyment of travel, or “wanderlust.”
/ˈwändərˌləst/ n. 1. a strong, innate desire to rove or travel about.
This past weekend was spent on the grid of Manhattan. Which included, but was not limited to, a dreary morning warmed by a fresh mint tea at Le Pain Quotidien, overlooking Bryant Park; followed by a refined latte from Culture Espresso (pictured above) and one of their famous chocolate chip cookies shared with my brother.
I met up with my family over the weekend for my oldest brothers graduation from The Kings College, after which we drove down to D. C. Since then we’ve enjoyed visiting the wildlife at the Smithsonian National Zoological Park, a stroll along the National Mall, along with a short visit to Georgetown. Again, all of these travels, though I’m thoroughly accustomed to the lifestyle, have revived my wonder in wandering, so to speak.
When it comes between touring the sights or taking an independent adventure, I choose the later. I have nothing against the famous landmarks, monuments, and so forth, but as to the purpose of emerging myself in a culture, I’m not convinced that this is the best method by which to accomplish that. I will admit that most tourist spots have gained the attraction they have due to their importance to culture and history-proving their value. And again I don’t speak against either of the two, but rather in favor of the one as my preference. In another sense, it’s a matter of understanding. Recognizing the symbolism and importance pertaining to a culture’s origin, and then wanting to understand the culture’s contemporaries by experiencing their personal preference of leisure.