When I had reached the top, above Dominica‘s Boiling Lake (for images of it click back one day), with my bruised knee, and sore calves, I was looking down on this amazing natural phenomena – the sound it makes is incredible – and despite the pain, everything was just about perfect at that moment.
However, there was a party of 3 Germans and a Spaniard who had arrived a bit earlier … and they insisted on chattering, loudly, and smoking. Here we are, having just walked up and down mountains for 14 km, at an amazing place in nature, and they are talking about the Spaniard’s business back in Chicago and smoking a well-known American brand of cigs. At least they packed the cigarettes back out.
As they were getting ready to head down, one of them asked me where I was from. I said New York City. The Spaniard responded. “New York – man, that means chaos to me”. Without a thought I said, “It means home to me.”
I love to travel. If I could afford it, I would travel 90% of the time. But what makes traveling for me is knowing that behind me or in front of me, is my home, my place, waiting for me. It hasn’t always been NYC. Once it was Boston, later Southern California, and in the future it may be somewhere else, but right now NYC is home and it is always nice to return.