Once upon a time not all that long ago, I was spending a lot of time in the hospital. I had cancer. It wasn't a typical type and I wasn't getting the typical treatment. My bone marrow was failing, so I was battling aggressive infections and a secondary cancer that results from a certain type of viral infection. I spent almost four years stuck in bed, including the year surrounding my bone marrow transplant. My BMT stuck me in the hospital for five weeks, plus another six of living walking distance from the outpatient clinic. I spent a lot of time thinking about what I was going to do when it was all over, where I was going to go when I got the hell out of there. I used my lifelong wanderlust to guide my daydreams, and certainly spent more time thinking about travel than anything else. I watched everything from Anthony Bourdain during the day and played audio from the Sea Organ in Zadar on a loop when I couldn't sleep. Everything I had saved for travel abroad after college had been rapidly, unceremoniously drained from my bank accounts to pay for basic life needs after I had to stop working, so I traveled in my imagination and I went everywhere.
I have been in remission for two-and-a-half years as I write this, and I am healthy, happy, and starting to travel. My day job is in the travel and tourism industry as a tour guide, and my time to myself is spent making art and investigating places to go. I am marrying a wonderful man soon, one who loves art, outdoors, and travel as much as I. We bought a very small condo and save not for big purchases but big wandering.
Herein lies my travel blog.
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