Wanderlust: 0%

People talk about scheduling (or coming back from) a trip to Singapore, Hong Kong or LA, climbing mountains and cruising down oceans, driving out of town, sunbathing in Galera, girl-watching in Bora, etc, etc.

People go places (or at least express the desire to) like it were the most wonderful thing in the world to be somewhere other than where one is.

And I wonder: why can't I be like them?

Yeah, I do want to experience what that eagerness to gallivant feels like. Truth is, there is an element of envy here (the innoccuous kind, that is), some sort of "can we trade places for a day?" thing.

Friends have invited me for a day or two at the beach, a trip to Phuket, a shopping pilgrimmage to Hong Kong. I've always had some difficulty saying "no," because with the "no" comes the prerequisite explanation why. How do I explain that the prospect of toasting in the sun has absolutely zero appeal to me, that the thought of skin aging (few of us are aware, and we will only see the effects later on, but skin aging does start early and the sun is one of the biggest culprits!) makes me shudder and avoid the sun as much as I can. A long trip, on the other hand, or one that would require me to pack and board a plane and land in a place where everything is strange, has never been a part of my life's itinerary.

This is not to say, though, that I am as boring as I sound. There is that occasional longing to go out (aside from the proverbial coffee with friends and shopping at the mall) and have a good time somewhere new. But again, the word is "occasional" and the supplementary adjective is "fleeting."

And people, of course, would start preaching about how I am missing half of my life and all that good stuff. How do I explain that I'd much rather stay where I am, that a real break, for me, means sleeping for 12 straight hours in my warm, cozy bed (just because for the longest time, I haven't really had enough sleep), that a cup of coffee and a good book, movie or magazine are enough to keep me company to the places I want to go to, and that, through the words I've read, I've actually already gone to the places I want to visit?

How do you explain that to people and expect them to understand? In the same way that I respect their desire--and need--to go to far places and satisfy that itch to see the world (or the blue of the beach, for that matter), I expect them, too, to respect my wish to be left at peace and, when prodded to accept an invite, not have the need to launch into an obligatory, lengthy (because too few words would mean not getting yourself across and having to explain even more) explanation and, worse, be forced to say yes to something I don't want.

I appreciate the fact that I still do get asked to go, proof that my friends do not hate my company all that much (lol).

Well, who knows, one distant day, in a cafe in Prague, you'll look up and feel a jolt to see me offering you a cup of coffee. Or, one Friday in Bora, you'll catch a glimpse of me, bikini-clad and tanned, cavorting with my friends under the hot, glorious sun.

Now, that'll be the day. I'm in stitches, just thinking about it.

;p