by Leslie C. Johnson
By most people’s standards, I am a well-travelled individual. I have spent time and tourist dollars in forty-five states and eight foreign countries. In college, I took a summer to travel and work in England; I was lucky enough to return and spend Christmas 2001 in London. In my late twenties, I drove to Alaska then took a bush plane to hike in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge. Since I have summers off, I have taken many extravagant vacations over the past fifteen years. I drove Route 66 from Chicago to Santa Monica Pier.
I hiked the Italian Alps. I toured Canada’s Maritime Provinces—including a night on the Island of St Pierre, France’s only remaining North American territory. Last summer, I finally reached the destination of my dreams: Iceland. However, this year I am taking a “staycation.”
Last summer, I finally reached the destination of my dreams: Iceland.