Travel is an adventure no matter how far you go. Typically, I take a weekend hopper somewhere. I’m not big on big vacations because, as previously discussed, I keep myself busy with activities—running, needle crafts, metal work, etc. This list is a little longer, but no one should be bored with that. I’m a bit of a workaholic and feel guilty when I am not doing or accomplishing something. Long vacations separate me from my distractions. Traveling with a torch and acid pickling station is shunned by TSA regulations. I’d make the no-fly list at the airport fast.

All my excuses aside, I force myself to take an extended vacation each year. I am lucky to have a friend who encourages me in planning trips. She doesn’t yearn to keep busy like I do. She’s attracted to luxury and travel like ants to sugar, which is a good thing for me. Her desire to get away leads to plans for years on end. There is always a place to go, and she doesn’t mind if I tag along. Cruises are her trip of choice. So far, I’m okay with them. I don’t jump for joy at the thought of being stuck on a boat, but I do appreciate not hauling my luggage everywhere.

For a few years now, we’ve ventured through European destinations on cruise-tours. They have been amazing opportunities to see so much of the world, to experience history first-hand, and to write in some of the most beautiful settings. On last year’s voyage, I was able to pull out a small journal as I sat at a cafe in Mykonos and take notes as I watched rain clouds move in over the island. The blue waters and crisp, white houses shadowed by the line of rumbling gray above. It’s visual poetry.

Now, though, it’s time to trade the long cruises for long stays on land. The mere hours allowed by our tours is no longer enough. I am drawn to wander through these cities. I need to find every museum and every local dive. I need to know how these people live, not just how they can sell me souvenirs. I need to spend days in their cafes watching their world as the sun rises and fades again into the night. I need knowledge.

My dear friend tries to accommodate my thirst for history. She indulges my desire to wander on occasion, as long as I let her shop. Some travelers are satisfied with a short visit and a dose of commerce in each port, but not me. The call to explore will not leave me alone. Its echo tumbled through every thought during our last voyage, and I need to answer it. My feet itch with impatience without earth under my feet, which is odd considering my Nordic ancestry. Well, odd only if I forget that they sailed out of a drive to save their communities, expand their horizons, and explore the boundaries of their world—and I love to explore.