Hi, my name is Brandy Bell and I am a travel addict

It starts like any other addiction: a quick voyage into an unknown world. Maybe your friends are all doing it, and they’ve goaded you as well. Maybe you saw it on TV and it looked incredibly cool. I can’t tell you why we start, and I can’t tell you how to stop. My name is Brandy Bell, and I am a travel addict.

I’ll never forget the moment I knew I was hooked on travel. Atop  The Holy Monastery of Rousanou in Meteora, Greece I looked down over a valley of houses, farms and winding country roads. The cold wind whipped around me, making the weeping willows sway their long limbs; beckoning me like a siren to come closer.

I looked left and right, and seeing no one paying attention, I went closer to the willows. Just behind them I saw a small room that was boarded up. Curiosity strikes.  I snuck over, and put my face against the barred window. I strained my eyes to see what was in the room and in between blinks, the face of a monk appeared 3 inches away- on the other side of the bar.

“What are you doing here?” He asked me in Greek. Busted. “I just wanted to see what was over here. I’m very sorry” I replied in my undoubtedly American accented Greek.
This was enough to soften him up, and he allowed me to peer into the room by lighting a candle for me. All four walls of the room were covered in shelves, floor to ceiling. The dusty wooden shelves were covered in human skulls, lined up side by side. Rows and rows of former priests. I later found out the living monks currently use the room to feel at one with those who came before them.

My eyes went wide, and I felt my heart pounding in my chest. I quietly thanked the priest and floated away. A simple moment like that,

photo: charalampos kondstantinidis

that I cannot translate to the language of words, had me on fire from the inside out.

What other magical little corners of the world are waiting for me? I was high. I stayed high until I came home to lovely California, and then the withdrawals hit.

Back at home, I began printing out hundreds of photos, covering my walls in my trip,  rereading my journal daily and reliving the moments with my travel partner. I was doing anything to get myself back to that wonderful peak that I couldn’t reach again– at least, not until the next time the wheels left the tarmac and I was on my way to Turkey. Since then, it’s been a downward (or rather, upward) spiral of never ending travel benders.

Nothing compares to the head spinning, heart pounding, blood pumping, high of strapping on the pack and walking out the door. Where am I going? Doesn’t matter- let’s just get on with it.

I can’t help thinking about the next place I will travel to. I literally spend so much time fantasizing about travel each day it has become a problem. Sometimes I forget what country I am actually in because I am so absorbed in my mental travel. One minute I am washing dishes in my Madrid flat, the next minute I am in the cloud forest of Panama, on the trail of death looking for poison frogs to finish my dart project. I part the branches of the forest and start scanning the foliage for signs of movement, the ground beneath me is wet, so wet I can feel it soaking my feet. Dear God, that’s actually my sink overflowing because I am daydreaming again! Hello, reality- we meet again.

This weekend I went shopping, but I wasn’t there to buy anything. I was simply looking at the bottom of everything and inside all the clothing. What? Why? Because I am searching for a “made in” tag or imprint. “Made in Vietnam” oooh, I bet Vietnam is great. I wonder what kind of clothing they wear in Vietnam. “Made in China” Ooooh China! I want to go there too, the Great Wall… hmm. “Made in Turkey” OOOH Turkey. Then I start googling pictures of Vietnam, reading blogs of people who are in China, Kazakhstan.. you name it, I’m reading about it. Then the real evil ugly part of the addiction comes in. NEED.

I don’t simply want to visit now, I NEED to. There is no logic, no reasoning, and nothing that can stand in the way of what I feel I now need. A fiend on the hunt for their next fix, I can think of nothing but the next destination… not even finishing this post.

Just kidding, I can control it a little more than that. But there’s not much between me and pulling up Skyscanner just to check….