When I was a child, I was unusually drawn to anything foreign. Coins from Korea, postcards from Paris, folk-crafts from Brazil; these were my planes, trains and automobiles taking me all over the planet.
I look back on those days with a sepia-toned fondness; my desire to see the world as a celebration of cultures. National Geographic and PBS taking me to places that I couldn't find in my neighborhood. Other children with bright smiling faces playing strange games and dressed so colorfully drew me to them.
Today, my love of other cultures and need to travel beyond my borders has taken me all over the world. The best part, I think, is that I still have the wonder of a child as I traverse this planet. It has never become old or routine.
Coffee in Turkey. Tea in Japan. The sharpness of the wind in Moscow, and the softness of the rain in Tuscany. Reeling in the power of Victoria Falls and relaxing in the stillness of a lake in Scotland. The structure of a visit to China and the free-form walks through the streets of La Paz.
I've almost done it all. And the child inside of me is loving every minute of it.
Some years ago, there was a celebrity blog (now-defunct) that had a strange fascination with Maggie Gyllenhaal. And I didn't get it. I told myself, "Well, she's not unattractive, but I don't see what the big deal is."