It’s pretty simple. I like to travel to another place and time, without having to pack. My sisters and brother are well-seasoned travellers and often try to encourage me to travel. And, believe it or not, I am not interested in the idea at all. I already travel enough, and the places I visit are far more amazing than any Taj Mahal or pyramid.
You see, I have travelled to a farm called Tara in the time of the American Civil War, I have been to Oz (not Australia), and I sat on the bench with jurors in a serial murder court case. People who don’t read will never have these experiences, no matter how much they travel.
And when you travel (and I mean the kind of traveling that entails you having to make sure your shampoo doesn’t leak) you have the dubious distinction of being a tourist. People spot you from a mile away and you are required to pay more for your coffee than you would if you lived in the apartment above the coffee shop. When you read, you have full citizenship. Opening the book entitles you to more than a green card. You are invited to join in and you can, because you speak the language, look the part, know the jargon–you sometimes even know the thoughts of the people around you.
I may still travel. If I do, it will probably be to Israel. My sister is going there in August, and I am green with envy, which has never happened before–not when it comes to traveling.
But for now, I am heading back to Jerusalem in AD 33, just to make sure that my characters are minding their Ps and Qs and doing what I tell them to. They don’t always, but I’ll tell you about it in the next post.
Where have you been recently?