The Power to transport me to faraway lands. To new cultures, to new people, to new languages.
The Power to awaken my senses. To new sights, new sounds, new smells, and new tastes. To make me feel more alive.
The Power to cross borders. Knowing that the blue cover of my passport alone is power. That others who see it have an opinion about my blue passport. For better or worse.
The Power to create memories. To open a new chapter in a book, possibly close a previous chapter. To arrive back in my home country at some point in the future and begin stories with “When I was in….”.
A small blue book, that as an international traveler is a strong part of my identity. My doorway to the world, to places that have allowed me to find myself, to carve out my identity.
I picked up my new passport last week, having replaced the temporary one that was issued to me in Honduras during my travel mishaps last summer. Stiff, new, so many blank pages staring at me, waiting to be filled with stamps, visas, memories. The following day I dropped it off at the Brazilian Embassy. It was too crisp, too empty. It needed a visa to take up at least one of those pages and make me feel like a traveler again.
It has been a decade since I was issued my first passport. Since I flew from the US to France for the very first time. A trip which would change the course of my life. In the ten years that would follow, I would visit 21 new countries.
My mind is already overflowing with ideas of places to visit in the decade of the new passport. A new year of travel adventures awaits me. I leave the US in less than two weeks, destination Jamaica and Brazil. The creative juices are already starting to flow and I am inspired to write again for the first time since I was in Panama last August. The butterflies in my stomach that come with the anticipation of leaving the US have started to set in. I couldn’t be more ready to go abroad again.