Travel Thoughts

I am not a writer, as you may have ascertained per pervious posts, but to my credit, I never expressed a writing inclination (hence the engineering degree and B- in Technical Writing, my only college English course where we learned to write mechanical assembly texts and the like); furthermore, this blog is free meaning you haven’t even downloaded expensive content on your Kindle, so you really can’t care too much about my qualifications, nor the writing caliber.  

Traveling is like biting into a blaring hot pepper (seems safe and pretty enough on the exterior) that scalds the mouth and makes you want to scream, “F&%k, why did I do that?”  You can’t spit out the fire fast enough and it lingers in your insides and burns all the way down.  You get flushed and sweaty, panting like a dog for relief - the only of which is to be found in Buenos Aires (that gorgeous mecca), where you consider (ignorantly?) to carry on and find a different exotic fruit market of toxic peppers.  Coming from the U.S., the Frosted Flakes are simply too sugary, boring, and mushy to eat regularly.

Growing up in a small town, familiarity suffocates like a noose, screaming without being heard, “I can’t stand this place!”  You despise the streets (you know them all), become annoyed with the chit-chat (nothing new is ever said), and would rather be a recluse than taste the same boring pizza.  On the other hand, in a new country familiarity enlightens the spirit ... “I love this place, it feels so... homey.”  You finally laugh with ease, realize not everyone sees you as a walking ATM, and quite enjoy that exact same pizza (yum, what delicious toppings they have here!).