But in all seriousness, I took my first true international solo trip this summer. I started in Turkey for one month, and while I’m sure that there are other countries even more beautiful, to me that country is the greatest place in the world. I’ve accepted that I feel this way because it was the beginning of my first big trip. I fell in love while there, had mental breakdowns in bus stations, went paragliding over turquoise waters, climbed mountains I thought I might fall off, and had the best month of my life.

I just got home last month and am leaving for my second one-way ticket trip to Central America after Thanksgiving. Part of me is hoping that I’ll find the happiness and excitement that I found in Turkey, but part of me hopes that nothing will ever compare to that first trip in order to preserve the special memory of it.

Ha, so weird, right? Does that mean we’re getting old, or just kind of old-school cool?