A Year in the World

While on my trip, I flipped through the March 2006 issue of Real Simple Magazine. On the last page there is a quote that really struck a cord with me.

"Travel pushes my boundaries. When you travel, you become invisible, if you want. I do want. I like to be the observer. What makes people who they are? Could I feel at home here? No one expects you to have the stack of papers back by Tuesday, or to check messages, or to fertilize the geraniums. When traveling, you have the delectable possibility of not understanding a word of what is said to you. Language becomes simply a musical background for watching bicycles zoom alongside a canal, calling for nothing from you. Travel releases spontaneity. You become a godlike creature full of choice, free to visit the stately pleasure domes, make love in the morning, sketch a bell tower. You open, as in childhood, and - for a time - receive this world. There's the visceral aspect, too - the huntress who is free. Free to go, free to return home bringing memories to lay on the hearth."

This is from a book entitled A Year in the World by Frances Mayes.

I may pick it up.