A Slice of the World

So we're going around the world and I'm supposed to write an essay about why I want to go, so that people don't tell our parents that they're crazy.

Truth be told, I can't think of a single good reason. I have lots of mediocre ones though. Who said a reason has to be 'good' anyway? This fact alone: the fact that I don't have one single reason to go around the world-- probably makes me the least willing person in the family.

But I'm stalling at this point. So here are my reasons:

I want to drive in a camper in the Australian outback.

I want to visit Christchurch; excepting for the fact that it is in New Zealand, I have no idea what it is, but Dad's mispronunciation of the place's name and subsequent surprise over the occurrence have aroused my curiosity.

I want to relax in Malta.

I want to see the Hayao Miyazaki museum in Japan, no matter what I said when Ileana first suggested it.

I want to taste Indian food.

I want to smell a Sahara.

I want to touch an ostrich or a rock in Africa.

I want to hear the silence in a temple or the noise in a Turkish market.

Looking over the list, I suppose I want to experience the world. Not just see it-- I want to smell, taste, hear, and touch it. Because just 'seeing' is what's on the front of every postcard. I want not only a postcard, but a slice of the world.

And when I've had that slice, I want to write about it. I want to share it with the people who can't have that slice firsthand. That's my reason.