There is something magical about traveling and I miss it something fierce. My body aches for that moment of awe and bliss when the jet is about to land in a faraway country and you just shiver in anticipation of everything you will get to experience. I look out the airplane window and my eyes get wide with delight. Right now there is a giant hole in my heart and it won’t be filled until I get to wander in a new and different location.

I miss photographing colorful doorways and flower bedecked arches, like the ones in Santorini, Greece and Capri, Italy.

I miss standing on the cobblestones in Rothenburg, Germany and realizing that they were placed there possibly 2,000 years ago. People walked on this ground and I wonder about their lives and their dreams. I can hear the horse hoofs and the swish of long dresses.

I miss stunning sunrises like the one from my chateau window in Belves, France on the morning of Heather and William’s wedding. The oranges and pinks were blissful as the sky was bathed in light.

I miss how my hair tingles when I learn a secret like the location of the door where Audrey Hepburn walked in to her home in Paris. It was a boring door until I found out it was HER door.

I miss the moment a new taste rolls onto my tongue and I sigh with bliss. Like the smooth Vietnamese coffee as we boated through the Cai Be floating market on the Mekong River in Vietnam. The buttery fish in a tiny diner outside of Reykjanesbaer, Iceland which was so darn savory. The creamy texture of the perfectly peppered cannelloni at Mama Gina’s in Florence, Italy.

I miss watching and photographing people. Like the men lined up on the bench at two in the afternoon in Cortona, Italy who seemingly had nothing to do but smile at me. Or the saxophone player with his cat in Gdansk, Poland who played a mournful tune. The young children at the orphanage in Siem Reap, Cambodia who were so excited to see us.

I miss walking into a grocery store in any country and delighting in finding a creamy bar of chocolate or a mellow wine or a salty cheese.

I miss the green, turquoise waters of Hvar, Croatia as we jumped in the crisp cold Adriatic. The majestic soaring peaks in Murren, Switzerland as we stood at the top of the Alps. The ice blue waterfalls in Iceland, the spray misting our faces. I miss having my breath taken away by the beauty of the world.

I miss the sounds of the cow bells as the cows march through the fields in Garmisch Partinkirchen, Germany. The pleasant sounds of children laughing at a bus stop in Singapore as we drove by and waved. The raucous singing by a bird which sounded like a cuckoo clock that reverberated through the Triglavski Narodni Park in Bled, Slovenia.

I miss talking to new people. Like Sinuoun in Sihanoukville, Cambodia at her cooking school when she laughingly attempted to get us to pulverize the banana flower for our salad. The cook in the tiny hut by the ferry outside of Bataan, Philippines, who was delighted that we loved her tasty potato soup.

It’s time for some planning. For some research. For some diving into new cultures. I want my hair to tingle. My eyes to widen in excitement. My taste buds to salivate. Our hearts to open to new acquaintances.

Time to quit writing and determine where we will travel first when the new normal reverts back to just being “normal” once again.

Ideje ujra utazni!