At 21 years old, I am incredibly lucky to have had a wide range of travel experiences. I’m from an adventurous family; I lived in Australia from ages two to five (military kid), road-tripped from Boston to Montana and Wyoming at nine, and spent two weeks riding an RV around Alaska at thirteen. I enjoyed these trips, but in a passive way. I wasn’t really involved in them; I was just along for the ride, following my parents. I discovered the thrill of traveling for myself my sophomore year of college, when I was able to study abroad in London.
As much as I loved living in this huge, amazing city, my favorite thing about the semester was the opportunity it afforded to travel and to explore Europe. During my four-month stay in the UK, I made trips to Scotland, Belgium, the Netherlands, Italy, and France, as well as shorter day-trips within England. I discovered that I really love to travel. To land in a foreign place and spend days just walking and seeing things I couldn’t experience anywhere else.
Ever since I returned home over a year ago, I’ve had a major case of wanderlust. I’ll spend hours reading my Let’s Go: Europe guidebook, learning what there is to do in Prague or which cities I should visit in Sweden. I have itineraries written out for trips to Ireland, Portugal, and Croatia, and folders on my computer full of pictures of Norwegian fjords, Medieval French towns, Peruvian Inca ruins, and Cambodian temples. My soul is constantly yearning to be on the move again. But since I can’t be traveling all the time, I like to read books about other people’s adventures. Sure, these books can’t quite satiate my hunger for travel, but they can be informative and truly inspiring. For any other bookworms who are constantly hearing the call of the road (or train, or plane), I’d like to share some of my favorites: Continue reading