Travel Dreaming

Having recently discovered the sublime joys of traveling around our country's beautiful islands, I have joined the ranks of those who are perennially restless, the elite society that I fondly call "The Fellowship of the Itching Feet". However, for some reason, perhaps because of their innate restlessness ironically combined with a fierce dedication to their vocations, I can't seem to find anyone from this group these days. Nevertheless, my itching feet call for some scratching, and all this work I've been slaving for this month should afford me some indulgence.

I've been dreaming about my next destination for the past weeks. In fact, the thought of going away on a weekend journey to somewhere quiet and unexplored excites me so much. It was what got me through these most toxic weeks of chief residency. Now that the annual residents' oral exams are over, I can finally indulge in long hours of planning for my next adventure. I call this travel-dreaming.

Not having much resources and being a good student all my life, traveling wasn't really something I've aspired to do. I used to be content with books and the hospital and staring at stars and empty spaces. The awakening of my travel instincts only began when a then stranger discussed with me the joys of his "journey to the edge of civilization". At that time, I did not understand it. Traveling was just moving from place to place and nothing else. This time I know better.

Perhaps it's a sign of growing older. The busier I got, the more I wanted to move out of my usual circles. To see the world and just blend with it as it moves along. There is so much to see and there seems to be too little time. Every time I find myself in a strange place, or stuck in a crowd in a flurry of dialects I do not understand, I feel strangely at home.

I believe half the fun of traveling is during travel-dreaming. The other half is with the company you keep when you travel. I've had a bunch of excellent travel buddies. Friends who can fill my idle time with so much laughter it's almost sinful to brood even if I wanted to. A few friends to just enjoy the quiet with. This time, however, I will be with my favorite company - myself.

I've chosen my destination. I already know which bus to take but that's all. My amateur experience has taught me that it's best not to plan. I will know my next step after I've taken my first.

Should anyone come looking for me, i'll be somewhere in Catanduanes. Or in some bus heading south, cradled to sleep by the gentle rocking motions of the wheels as they hit the road.

And don't you worry about me. I'll get home in time for work. And another round of travel-dreaming.