Winning the Lottery

I was just re-reading the post I wrote about Hangzhou a year ago and found I had written this:
"Next time I will come back to Hangzhou, and go to the edge of the desert to see Dunhuang and geek out at the collection of Buddhist caves there (and ride out to the Gobi in a camel), and go to see the Xinjiang Autonomous region in Urumqi, and the grasslands of Inner Mongolia, the panda bears in Chengdu, a re-visit to beautiful Qingdao, the Shaolin temple near Luoyang (which, much to my chagrin, I realized was really close much too late), and the gardens in Suzhou. I also need to go to Tokyo and Kyoto and to see Mount Fuji in Japan. I need to see Seoul, South Korea, and Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia. I need to ride the transsiberian from Beijing to Saint Petersburg."


When I read those words, the itch that has been bothering me for days - no, weeks - took form. I've been solidly settled in Brooklyn for six (almost seven) months now and have not really made a significant journey since I got here. I find that extraordinarily bizarre as I am in constant movement, constant change. I hate being stuck to a place for so long, and am finding hard to fight the urge to travel. Call me a location commitmentphobe. Or nomad. I get stressed and twitchy and annoyed.
But there is so much out there to see and experience that not seeing and experiencing it seems like a bit of a waste. In a way, there is nothing really stopping me from booking a flight to Ulaanbaatar or Tokyo to Saint Petersburg when my next paycheck comes in. I could do it. Of course, that would mean not paying rent or something. And probably getting fired. Perhaps my priorities have shifted.
My mom makes me buy a lottery ticket whenever the jackpot gets high. Although we haven't won, I often find myself thinking about what I would do if we did.
Here's what I would do:
(1) Pay off my student loans,
(2) Finance my short film,
(3) Book a ticket to Ulaanbataar/Tokyo/Saint Petersburg and spend some time traveling the world.
(4) Buy one of the brownstones over on Prospect Park West.

Pretty straightforward.
Honestly, the one that excites me the most is number three. I love to travel. I love airplanes and airports (yes, I grumble about airports a lot, but there's something to them...they're quite magical, interesting, unique spaces). I love getting lost in cities. And taking the wrong train. And finding a beautiful place that I would not find anywhere else. I love discovering new flavors, new textures. I love meeting new people.
Today, when I dropped my brother off at the Grand Central Terminal Airport shuttle, I wanted to jump into the van with him, get to LGA and buy a ticket to some random place I haven't been to before and just go. I wanted to be impulsive.
Admittedly, my tiredness won over (I was too sleepy to be impulsive at 7 am). But I miss that feeling of being in transit, of being excited about a new place, and sad about leaving the old one.
Don't get me wrong. I love Brooklyn. I love my life in NYC.
But perhaps, I am beginning to think that there is still too much world out there to see.

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