I don’t have many regrets. Maybe a few, but they are rare and probably out of proportion with whatever anguish they have caused me.

But there are things I am sorry to have missed out on while traveling.

  • I wish I’d been more brave in Spain, that evening I walked around alone. I was so worried about my schedule, and so unprepared for my own unwillingness to wing it that I missed the Prado and so obsessed with my budget I missed almost all the Gaudis.
  • On my second European trip I wish I’d been less freaked out about carrying cash. Because I was so afraid to be “muggable,” I ended up in Austria and France almost penniless (thanks to my bank card not working there).
  • I only kind of wish I’d gone paragliding in South Africa.
  • I wish I’d been more assertive in India, and less hysterical–maybe I would have done more sightseeing. I wish I’d’ve gone to the park, instead of worrying about my stomach.
  • I wish I’d complained about the guide in Alaska. I didn’t deserve the crummy time he showed me.
  • I wish I’d’ve gone to Chile alone (or let any one of the half a dozen friends who offered to bail me out along the way help me get away from that drunken loser sooner than I did).
  • I’m sorry I didn’t hike the glacier in Iceland.
  • I kind of wish I’d gone to the kiwi centre in New Zealand. I also wish I hadn’t cried in front of the graduate assistant.

There are of course at least five times as many things I am glad I did. But this list is a good reminder that travel is hard.

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