Searching for the Meaning of Travel at 11 Miles an Hour
A tale about two-wheeled island hopping in the midnight sun
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Several years ago in a conversation, a friend said something along these lines: it’s funny that in the United States we don’t think you’re worldly unless you’ve traveled a bit and have a passport, but often when we travel, we go halfway around the world to out-of-the-way places and meet people who have never left those places, and we come back and tell stories about those interesting people who have stayed in one place their entire lives. But if they lived just down the road from us, would we think they were interesting at all?
I grew up in a small town in the middle of America, and sometimes when I travel to small towns in other places that feel exotic to me, I catch myself thinking, This is a great place. I wonder if I could live here? And then I wonder if the people who live there think their little town is as amazing as I do, or if they wish their town had a movie theater or more things going on, like I did when I was growing up. Maybe both.