Wanderlust is defined as “a strong desire for or impulse to travel and explore the world.” Boy, do I have wanderlust (catch wanderlust? experience wanderlust?)

Ever since I was little, I loved exploring other cultures. When the girls in my predominately white, italian, New Jersey town all bought the Samantha American Girl Doll, I had my sights set on Josephina, a girl growing up in her Mexican pueblo.

In sixth grade, when we were instructed to choose a famous historical man or woman to write a “book” (ok, it was 10 pages but still) about, I chose Sojourner Truth, an African American crazy feminist who flashed her boobs once during a speech. Atta girl.

Such has my life continued until now, where I am a sophomore at a New York State school, surrounded by the greatest diversity I’ve ever experienced (although according to my friends who comprise this “diversity,” New Paltz is pretty white. Oops.)

So, as you could gather, I’m pretty interested in different cultures and places. The issue, however, is that I’ve yet to experience the world.

I yearn to face culture-shock. I want to be so taken aback by surprise and wonder that I can break down my dormant ethnocentrism.

I want to feel the beauty of rituals, both old and new. I want to surpass the level of tourist and fully immerse myself in the people and places around me.

This world is so big, yet so accessible. I want to reach every continent, every country. I want to see what the world has to offer me, and give a piece of myself back in return.

Wanderlust. I need to explore.


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