Traveling...Dedicated to You.

My favorite part of this photo is the middle black and white portion. It shows part of the NY subway map giving way to roads in the Dominican Republic.

When I was younger, I used to see my mom pour over maps as a pasttime, just looking at all the different roads, and figuring out the best ways to get anywhere, or where she'd been. I developed an appreciation for maps as well, though not in the same way my mom had. I loved public transportation maps most of all; the subways and the bus lines were my escape route from home. I loved following the lines, seeing how far I could get before I needed to come back. When non-NY people look at a New York subway map, they complain about how confusing and convoluted it is, which, after seeing a number of other public transportation maps, is quite understandable. But seeing those maps made me feel free in a way that even having my own car can't compare, because at the time for a depressed teenager feeling like she had no place to call home, the subway and buses took to places that just maybe I would escape to permanently. Riding on the subway, I was in a state of flux, a state of possibility, and though I would always have a destination, I was moving. Of course I had to go "home" at some point, and the worse part was always when the Q85 would turn onto Bedell St., and I would countdown the 3 stops to my apartment building. The journey ended there, and I had to stop and face the reality of my life.

That's the feeling I have now...I'm counting down the stops to my building. I hate being home so much, because it never felt like home. But--and I can't believe I'm about to say this--as I was driving last night across Lamar Blvd., over the water, and I saw the pathetic Austin skyline, I nearly teared up, thinking that it would three months before I was back here, driving Zoe (my car), pulling up to my apartment, opening my door, sleeping in my bed. After all my years of traveling, I guess I finally have a destination that I can consider home, no matter how whack it is, how boring it can be, how small a population. When I was planning my summer vacation, I wasn't anticipating my connections to Austin getting so much stronger. Austin is where I came into my own, and started becoming the person I'd always knew I could be. Austin is where I found people who understood me, all of me, and gave me the potential to be more.

But my journey is far, far from complete. Traveling is part of who I am, from the time that I was 6 or 7, looking at my mom's passport and admiring all her visas, to now as an anthropologist (in-training). This summer, I go by bus, subway, train, plan, and even boat. Always in motion. But this time I'm not running away. I'm simply traveling. But a part of me is certainly left behind in all the people who have been with me since I was 14, to the people that have stuck with me past college, to the people who have been with me since September, to the people who I hope to get a chance to know better upon my return. A hearty thank you to all of you who made this journey all the harder to embark upon. It's a good thing, I finally have something to miss. :'-) {happy tears}