If you don't like to travel, you're not aone.

America is a travel-crazy nation. We live in a wide espanse of almost any kind of country anyone could want, from Western coastline to Eastern coastline, and everything in between, but we are, as a group, always looking to travel to places we haven't seen but have just heard of, and we have the means to make it happen. We Americans have money and want to see the world.

And some of us are meant to travel: we are born with our bags packed. It's a truly American kind of thing. We know our country was only lately settled -- long after those of much of the rest of the world -- and we can't wait to see where civilization, as we know it, actually started. We're lured, by books and by our own imaginations, to want to see the pyramids of Egypt, the wild animal savannas of Africa, the ancient cities of Europe, the mysterious capitals of Asia, and on and on. Catch a cheap airfare to anywhere, and we're on our way!


I think it goes back to WW One, and then again in WW Two, when American soldiers saw Paris for the first time. Well, that was the end of barnyard innocence, don't you think? Those freed Parisian girls jumping up on tanks to kiss American boys? Don't you think that moment stayed with lots of those boys?


Women have probably always wanted to travel, but it's when men decided to travel, too, that we all started to go everywhere, as couples. We Americans have been travelling ever since.

But some of us, the stay-at-home types, aren't so enamored of overseas travel. Maybe we've done it and experienced the difficulties -- with visas or jet lag or just small rooms in Paris -- or maybe we just dread it, but we're not as eager to pack up everything for a whirlwind tour of various cities that we think we sort of know by reading about those places. For instance, I'm not sure I need to endure the dust and heat of Egypt -- and the possible terrorist attack -- just to see the ruins I've seen before in National Geographic and have fixed in my mind. And if I'm into lying on a beach, why not do it in Miami or California instead of one of those have-to-fly-to islands? And why not have a big city nearby in case you bored lying on the frigging beach?
Why not just vacation here at home, where you can load everything in the car and not worry about visas?

Yeah, yeah, but I'm being a spoilsport. Lots of us really do like to venture afar for our vacation entertainment. And to those people, I say "Go for it!" You obviously need some new stimulus to keep yourselves entertained. And you love airports and the idea of going somewhere far off.

But some of us don't. It's not that we don't want to see anything new; it's that we don't like the whole travel experience. Again, the airports. But also living out of a suitcase. Trying to find some shop in a foreign country where you can buy toothpaste or booze. Feeling like a rube because you don't speak the language -- or like an "ugly American" for insisting that everyone speak English.

Some of us are rooted where we are and like it. We may like to venture beyond our bounds once in a while -- maybe even overseas, if need be -- but we're most comfortable at home, in our own town, knowing the rules and the roads. A vacation to some of us is just time alone, where we are.

Personally, I like to take road trips, where you load up the car with everything you think you'll need, and driving to places in this country where you know everyone speaks the language and where you'll be able to find anything you need -- and you don't have to worry about drinking the water. I think America is the least explored continent for most Americans.

But that's just me. I'm a stick-in-the-mud when it comes to travel. I do envy all those who yearn to see the whole world, but I've traveled enough to know that it's a great big hassle and, in the end, maybe or maybe not worth the effort. Do I need to see the Taj Mahal? Probably not, as I've seen it, endlessly, in photos and documentaries. Do I need to know how the poor of India live? Maybe I should, but I don't want to. What in the world do I need to see with my own eyes that I haven't already seen via the marvelous media I have available to me?

Yes, I'm that curmudgeon who is happy at home, reading books and sucking down Scotch, imagining myself driving out to Maine someday to catch lobsters in pots, walking the shoreline of Cape Cod, or maybe standing on a rocky coast in Oregon as the wind whips in and the waters threaten to engulf me. I'm that guy who would rather load the car and explore America than spend days getting a passport to stand in line to go to Indonesia and have my bags searched or, at worst, lost, just to see how people worse off than me live while pretending to be impressed by the temples the ruling classes built for themselves.

And beaches? They're everywhere. Lie on one in Thailand, and you've lain on them all. A beach is a beach.

I love the life of the mind, and my mind has taken me to all parts of the world, minus the hassle.
Give me a weekend car trip to the Grand Canyon any day. Or I might fly to Charleston and rent a car and eat great Southern cooking, then drive up to the Eastern coast to New York and beyond. I like having control of my travels.

It's not that I don't think there are parts of the world I'd love to see that I can't reach by car. I would love to see the cold northern European countries like Norway and Sweden and Denmark. But I have a strong mental image of them -- less the trouble of getting there -- and I'm okay with that. And as far as Africa is concerned: intriguing but way too dangerous and depressing.

Sorry, but I'm an armchair traveler. I go everywhere in my mind, some places in my car, and -- every now and again -- faraway places in a plane. Those last, though, are getting to be fewer and further between.

Hey, some of us are born to roam. Others of us like it where we are. Some have to travel. Some resist it like the plague. Some of us love living out of suitcases. Others want their comforts. It's just who we all are, and, if we're smart, we'll choose mates whose preferences match our own.

Anyone up for a twelve-hour flight to Greece and, once we get there, lots of small boats to take us from one island to the next? Plus all that checking of bags? Not me.

Anyone want to drive to Yellowstone for a weekend, with all our gear in the car? Or take a quick hop to New Orleans for oyster po-boys and some gumbo? Count me in!

Travel is a state of mind. You do it or you don't. Or you do to some extent but not as much as someone else wants to. Again, you have to decide what you're comfortable with and try to pick a mate who shares your predilection. When I first saw New York City, I was amazed. I'd go back there in a minute. Same for San Francisco. London, too, but it was very expensive and hard to get to, and hard to find a place to stay. Paris was beautiful -- but worth the expense? Hmm . . .

I was in Australia when I was young and would love to see it again, but Lord, it's on the other side of the world! I'd be half-dead by the time I got there, and what would I see that I couldn't see here in America? Lots of stuff, of course, but is it worth the trip? For some, obviously. For me, maybe not. (But I'm not ruling it out.)

I know I'm boring to travel addicts, but so are lots of other interesting people who choose to bloom where they're planted, as the saying goes. We're home-grown, for sure, but no less fascinating companions if you get to know us. And we do like to see new places, and are willing to travel to get there, but only truly special places, special to us. Now if you'll excuse me, I lost my place in this book I was reading . . .

Bon voyage!