I listed the countries, like ex lovers, because I didn’t know how many there were.  That list had the same quality as one writing down the people you used to spend time with, everyone gets one line but not every experience is equal.  Either list was probably not that impressive, but made me smile all the same.

Lately I’ve been disappearing on weekends to waterfalls and valleys, a year of visiting the nearby instead of the far away.  The Pacific Northwest.  I keep going even though I feel a bit numbed, because I know that this is probably not where I finally sleep, because sometimes I can see it through strange eyes and understand a bit.  Part of the problem is that travel in this part of the world is kind of expensive, probably for most people, and it seems to make the interesting runaway nomadic culture a little rarer.  There are glimpses of it in ski towns, and I just about gave up my keys to move into a rafting guide camp this summer, but it’s not like the lost boys and girls you stumble on in places people go to live simply and be forgotten.

But then this weekend, bam!, a documentary on the islands of PNG, and I find myself thinking about long haul trips to places I don’t even know about yet, places I don’t even know I want to go yet.