My friend has a life size map of the world in her house, that takes up most of the wall. Every time I see it I always trace my fingers along it, listing off all the different places I want to visit. Though I’ve seen this map a thousand times it still takes me back to see how big the world is, and each time a new country, city or area catches my interest and gets added to my list.
I want to go to so many places and do so many things. Some afar and some not so afar.
I want to see the beauty of Edinburgh and walk along the cobbled streets, I want to stop off at the Elephant House and sit down with a mocha and imagine JK Rowling writing Harry Potter in the corner.
I want to go to Brighton’s pier and hear the sound of old arcade games, and money tumbling into gleeful winners hands. To see the pink fluff of cotton candy and listen to the tinkling music of carousel rides.
I want to head over to Rome, Italy and let the sun warm my head. To stroll through the Sistine Chapel and see the Bibical story come alive above me, to eat real pizza and to let my senses come alive with all the new food I would try.
I want to revisit countries, to see if my love for a place can change with the passing of time.
I want to change my opinion on places like France because past experiences left me with a sour memory.
I want to see places I haven’t heard of yet. I want to stumble across them by surprise, the areas that aren’t on my check list, because they’re the places I usually fall deepest in love with.
I want to see more of the beauty in my own country. To visit marketplaces in Galway, to see the incredible things nature can do at the Giant’s Causeway, to walk through funny little villages with funny names.
I’d like to do all this please.