If we make it to the city
by jonathanlimes
A few hours ago I opened up my creaky closet door, and dug my arm into the top shelf to reach for my black leather duffel bag. It’s a pretty humble bag that doesn’t draw much attention, with traditional compartments that every duffel bag has. Some part of it has been worn out; I think one of its bottom plastic stand tips was wrestled off forcibly in one of my small scuffles on an airplane. Ever since I bought it nearly a year ago, its use has been synonymous with travel and adventure. This bag goes with me everywhere out of town, in airplane overhead compartments, or carried by one hand as I scurry across new and unfamiliar city streets. If it has eyes and a brain, it probably has as much travel memories as I have collected over the course of the past year. Now, after almost an entire semester, I am taking the bag out of town again.
I have come to enjoy traveling a lot, and I feel I haven’t done enough. Every now and then I experience tiny reprieves long enough to admit a good trip out of town. Traveling with good friends is always an awesome experience; traveling alone and exploring a foreign place in solitude, on the other hand, brings a kind of self-discovery that could lead to two opposite outcomes: utter annoyance or fresh liberation. The last time I took a solitary adventure, it was through the streets of Saint Petersburg in Russia. I wanted to take some pictures of various monuments for a final paper I was writing, and I spent an entire afternoon wandering through the city. Until now I still remember my mental snapshots very clearly, and I miss it dearly.
Last year, I spent Thanksgiving in America with an American family, and had a traditional dinner where I ate myself into a nice sleepy coma. Come this Wednesday I’ll be taking a train to New York City; I can’t wait. I’ve always been a city boy, and probably always will be, as much as I enjoy the beautiful Virginian suburbs. The momentum and energy in the city is irreplaceable.
In the meantime, school has lost its tense atmosphere this week, and life now slows to a gentle crawl as people are packing up, leaving their books behind to return to their families. Too much routine, too much routine, but not that bad of a routine.
