Tuesday, May 15, 2012  travel jitters  Whenever I'm getting
ready to travel, I have to contend with the fact that there is a
part of me that hates to travel. Even before the most exciting
trips, like the one I'm about to go on, I think that it wouldn't
be so bad if the whole thing got cancelled, thereby relieving me
of the burden of exiting my familiar and cozy bubble.   The
first major trip I ever took was when I was 22 and I went to
Costa Rica for two months. I lived on $50 a week for almost a
year to save for that trip, but in the days before departure, I
was filled with dread. I didn't want to admit it to anybody, but
I did not want to go anymore. I was very disappointed with
myself, because I had always imagined that when I grew up, I
would work only to save enough money to travel.  I consider
myself an explorer, and I thought my whole life would be about
traveling and exploring.  I had very romantic notions about what
it meant to be a world traveler. I would be full of stories from
my encounters with ex