New Zealand bound (Day 1)

What is it that compels us to hurtle ourselves across the sky to the other end of the globe?

Sitting in an impossibly heavy metal object above a fascinating landscape of clouds never ceases to impress me.  As I stare out the window, only 3 hours into our 21 hour journey from Toronto, Canada to Auckland, New Zealand, it is only now starting to really sink in how crazy this adventure actually is.

I'm no stranger to traveling.  I've taken an endless chain of Greyhound buses across the United States from Toronto to Utah; traveled by train/bus/taxi to reach a secluded beach in New Jersey; taken various trains and buses to a remote location in northern Ontario; and taken every possible combination of transportation to places all over the US.  All solo.  I've also traveled as part of a choir and toured Europe while performing at the same time - another different but equally exhilarating kind of adventure.

But I have always dreamed of more.  I've longed to fly farther, longer, discover wild places yet unknown to me.  New Zealand was one place on that list of dreams, and one that happened to overlap with my travel companion, J.  We both happened to be at points in our lives and careers where we could hazard a trip of this length (37 days, when all is said and done).

So here we are.  On a plane.  In the sky.  With a campervan rental and a dream list of places to drive to across the country.  And that's it.

So what compels us?  She is certainly no stranger to traveling to far flung places.  New Zealand will be her 31st country (approximately - but who's counting?)  I asked her earlier today, feet still firmly on land, what it was that drew her to travel.  Exploring, seeing new things, experiencing different ways of life, and self-discovery were some of the themes that came across.  I could easily list those for myself as well.

But there still seems to be something intangible in the desire to travel so far from home.  Something that escapes all attempts to explain it.  Exploration, newness, and self-discovery are easily accessed through various other means without having to even leave one's neighbourhood.  Why do some seek it within walking distance while others feel the need to remove themselves from all that they know?

When I was in the seventh and eight grades, I was an "explorer".  As soon as the lunch bell rang, I grabbed my sandwich from my locker and was out the school doors and down the block, walking and eating, often accompanied by several others who were curious by my strong need to discover new places.  The freedom to explore my neighbourhood was a new one, one that I was only permitted during that precious hour each day, since I grew up pretty sheltered and otherwise without access to that kind of freedom.

I pushed the limits of how far we could walk during that brief lunch hour, constantly fascinated by every new street we turned down, every bend in the road that led to yet another park, parkette, abandoned streetcar station, quirky shop, pond, or even once, a whole ravine we barely had time to glance at before needing to run the whole way back to school.

We were explorers in the truest sense, and, lacking the knowledge of the names for any of our discovered places, we created our own.  I would pour over my father's city street guide when I got home in the evenings, trying to figure out what paths we had walked and orienting myself to the city maps so I could re-discover those places again.

That desire to explore and discover is no different than that one that now pulls me, 470mph, towards the other side of the world.  It taps that same yearning.

But what is this wordless yearning?  I could easily weave a tapestry of beautiful words that would rival any travel quote, and maybe they would point at the answer, but they would not BE the answer. 
I don't really know the answer.

I'm hoping New Zealand will unlock some of that subtle mystery.  Does that mean that perhaps we travel in order to find the answer to why we feel we need to travel?

See you on the other side.