Far flung places

I have been following the adventures of my friend, B.
She has spent the last 6 months working in the far east with kiddies, teaching.
She speaks of intoxicatingly exotic smells and sounds, warm climates and azure blue seas. She speaks of peace and heartbreak and beauty all played out under perpetually blue skies, peppered with a sprinkling of palms wavering gently in the breeze.

I want to do that.
I want to do that so much.
But unlike me, she is unbound.
She does not own a house or feel beholden to a significant other.
She is free to pursue paradise.
I was raised Catholic. I don't follow the religion now, as an adult...but the sense of guilt instilled upon me is very prevalent.
I chose a caring profession and I chose to abandon my personal desires in favour of taking care of others first.
But as a late 30 something, I am beginning to realise that my choices are becoming ever more limited.
I want to dance barefoot on foreign sands.
I want to gaze at the Southern Cross, flat on my back, arms behind my head, glass of exotic moonshine by my side.
I want to share this with someone that loves it as much as I do...with a passion rather than just "it's a nice holiday."
I want to write about it, photograph it, film it, LIVE it.

Where do I want to go?
EVERYWHERE!!! For the rest of my life I want to go EVERYWHERE!!!!



But I chose to care for others for my career and those kind of jobs never send you anywhere other than housing estates and the bleak greyness of Britain.

I am lucky that my dad lives in Canada. Even better, he lives in a Ski resort. It's good, clean, healthy North American living out there. I love it when I go.
But it is familiar territory. I've been to Canada and The States so many times now that it becoming as familiar to me as a well loved teddy bear.
I want danger, adventure...the edge.
I want to live until I die with one foot on the horizon into the unknown...but I am afraid to do it alone.