I've been spending quite a lot of time at work recently, and with that comes the inevitable thought of "I need a holiday" or better still "I could do with a looooong break!". Not that I'm not loving life in Wellington - it's a full/fullfilling existence but sometimes the wanderer in me stirs its head and itches for an adventure. Several of my good friends here have recently returned from a big overseas trip or are embarking on a journey as we speak, so temptation has been everywhere! On top of that I'm getting distracted by travel books like Rory Maclean's Magic Bus: On the Hippie Trail from Istanbul to India and A Long Slow Affair of the Heart by New Zealand author Bruce Ansley. He writes about throwing in his job to sail a canal boat in France and has a few interesting comments to make about the notion of dreams and adventure:
The trouble with dreams is not so much their coming true as the chill kiss of truth when they do (...). I yearn for adventure; but adventure is so contrary you spend a lot more time thinking about it than doing. Mostly, adventures were things someone else had. You read about them, or watched them on television, and those were probably the best of all. Real adventures were uncomfortable, and could be dangerous, and might be best not approached by the unarmed citizen. The idea was to pick an adventure which had maximum potential for fun and excitement and minimum possibility of boredom, discomfort or death. That was not so easy.
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