I’m very fortunate in that I have travelled a great deal in my life. (Maybe it’s an inherited genetic mutation.) Most people know me for my travels, if nothing else. “Have you eaten? Where are you going on your next trip?” I’m the kind of gal who can honestly say, “I don’t want to see the Taj Mahal or the Forbidden City; I’ve already seen them three times. . .” But hey, I’ve never been to the Mystery Spot in the Santa Cruz mountains of my backyard.
Thus it always surprises people when they mention a place they visited and I say “Oh, I’ve never been there before! I’d like to go there.” This summer alone, I’ve had friends go to Montreal and North Carolina. Another one is about to go to Nepal. These are all places I’d like to go to someday. My travel list is really not a bucket list, it’s a list of places that randomly knock on the door into my awareness and voila, I have the urge to go to Ethiopia, the Ukraine, Nakhon Sri Thammarat, Saint Petersburg or Glacier National Park (OK, the NY Times travel section is a frequent ringer of the doorbell.) The pool of candidates varies. A while back, when I was really into Piazzolla’s music, I really wanted to go to Argentina. Now it’s a lesser priority.
It’s just good to know though, that no matter how much you’ve travelled, there’s always new places you haven’t been to.