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Today is Monday, August 15, 2022. In just over one week, I will find myself shuffling along other busy travelers at the airport, praying I remembered my passport, eager to get on the plane to start my next adventure: a semester in Florence, Italy.
But before it all begins, I find myself reminiscing on my life in Los Angeles. When I was in high school, I was so eager to travel. I had big dreams of visiting New York and Paris. I dreamed of trekking the Swiss Alps and staying in South American hostels. All very exciting. But as I become get older and see flickers of this reality of nomadic living take fruition, I find that there is so much to explore in California that I took for granted as a child. I didn't realize how privileged I was to live in one of the most beautiful states in the country, and how much adventure was practically in my backyard.
With no more than a short car ride ahead, on any given day I could find myself hiking the trails of Wildwood Canyon. While I was dreaming of hiking through Switzerland, I missed so many opportunities to see this scenic route. Since discovering the trails of Wildwood, I have completed the hike thirteen times. It's a short hike, only about five miles round trip, but it is a gorgeous one. The trail snakes through a rocky canyon, over the cliff of Paradise Falls, edging into a murky green waterfall.
Furthermore, accessible to me by car are the Santa Monica Mountains and all twenty-one miles of its scenic beauty. Often times I drove this route alone, listened to my favorite travel podcast, found a secluded spot overlooking the ocean and thought about all of the adventure that was in my future. These solo beach days along the Pacific Coast Highway were some of the most freeing drives I've ever experienced. I would buckle up with a vibrant hope, smelling in the salty ocean breeze that can't help but peek through the cracks of my Jeep's window. I once pulled over along PCH, noticing that a pod of dolphins decided to make an appearance and play before the mesmerized beach-goers. It was a Wednesday morning and I was en-route to my next university lecture, when I got distracted by the speck of nature before me. I am not ashamed to admit that I missed class that day. Sometimes we learn more through experience than in a classroom setting, but more on that later . . .
Just six hours to my north is one of the nation's most scenic National Parks: Yosemite National Park. Visiting this park in the springtime was one of the most formative experiences of my young adult life. If I am being completely vulnerable and honest, when I looked upon Yosemite Falls and felt the cool mist of the water splashing below, I was teary-eyed with joy. I realized in that moment that my dream of traveling wasn't a dream anymore. I was out in the world, in nature, seeing everything I promised myself I would see. Perhaps it was a small start, visiting a National Park in my home state. But it was an unforgettable experience.
So as I look ahead with so much excitement for my future in Europe, I am reminded of how lucky I am to have grown up in California. There is so much in the world that I want to see and experience. There are so many people I want to meet and stories I want to tell. I want to experience new cultures, languages, and foods. But no matter where my next adventure takes me, California will always have my heart.
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