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The Romance Versus the Reality of Traveling the World to Write
I left my normal life behind for the romantic idea of traveling and creating. Here’s what I’ve learned so far…
The Romance
I’m writing to you from the dining room table of my Airbnb in Oaxaca City, Mexico. It’s 5:30 AM. In the distance, peeking over the rooftops of the neighborhood, are the two domes of the Templo de Santo Domingo.
In a few hours, parades led by marching bands, people in elaborate costume, artists peddling their wares, and food vendors will fill the streets. Fireworks will fill the sky. It’s the first day of Dia de Los Muertos, so, I write before the sun comes up and the commotion makes it impossible.
Does it sound romantic? Does it conjure images of Hemingway in some Parisian cafe, smoking cigarettes and sipping a cappuccino from a tiny cup? Yeah, I thought so, too.
I thought I would spend my mornings like this and spend the rest of the day practicing my broken Spanish, fingering trinkets at adorable street-side shops, sharing longing looks with other travelers, beautiful strangers from Bucharest or Barcelona. I’d be inspired and write something great.
