For some reason twenty five always seemed to be the age that was very far away. Even from my early twenties, twenty five was always that age that people talked about with reverence.
Every morning during my eleventh month of the World Race, I would sit on top of a hill in Lesotho and day dream about what my life would be like when I returned home. At that point, some of that day dreaming would include hot showers and a real bed, but most of the dreaming was about the perfect blog.
It is sometimes difficult for me to call myself a world traveler. Yes I have traveled to seventeen countries in my young life, but considering all the places in the world I have yet to see, I have a few more trips to make.