I think to myself — I don’t need to travel so much. A year at home will do me good. I can be stable. I can be a normal human being. Maybe I can stay in the same spot. Maybe I can revel in my habits and my daily Starbucks and my dog and my Crossfit and my friends.

So I set my schedule accordingly. I said no to more weddings abroad and yes to more weddings in Chile. I booked flights for the minimum amount of time in one spot — get there, do a wedding, go home. Rush to New York, rush to Switzerland, work work work, fly back, no time for travel. Two hours in Liechtenstein will do me.

All it took was one breathe of fresh air on a mountaintop in a tiny town in Switzerland and I told the universe — ok I lied, I can’t do this. I want to keep exploring. I need to keep exploring.

Some people must create. Some women were born to be mothers. Some men are made for routine. Maybe I am these things too. I hope so. But first and foremost, I know I am a person who must know what else is out there.

That’s who I am. I must feel small, I must know that I am one of a million other ways of living, one language out of hundreds. There’s an insatiable curiosity in me to go out and see the world, to observe it. There’s a desire in me that I can’t kill, that wants me to try and interact with other people and know who they are and comprehend how they function within their society and how their society functions within this global society.

Sometimes I sit on planes, on beaches, on trains, at coffee shops, and I try to process all that I see. I make frantic notes on my phone so I can remember it all, so I can put it into words that mean something to me. Sometimes I put those words on my blog. That’s how I understand a place, that’s how I travel in a way that’s meaningful to me. That’s when I burn.

I asked the universe for a big travel year in 2015, I put it out there, I said the words out loud. And now, all before the end of May, I have weddings in the South of Chile, Paraguay, Australia, and the British Virgin Islands. I’m so grateful.

Wanderlust. It’s in me. I don’t know why I tried, for even one second, to deny it.

PS. These are a couple random shots from the trip to Spain I took with my mom in 2012 and never blogged. May I present to you, La Alhambra!