No, I don’t mean romantic in the smoochy-smoochy sense. I’m talking here about the romance of travel. In playing around on Pinterest, I’ve learned something about myself. In the real world, I want a first class seat on the biggest airliner I can find. But I’m drawn to images of float planes in Alaska. In the real world, I want to cruise with Royal Caribbean and have my every need taken care of by someone else. But I’m drawn to images of sailboats.
In the real world, I want a big ol’ car with cushy seats and a fancy stereo. But I’m drawn to images of open classic roadsters, Vespas, and beach cruisers. My imagination is so much more adventurous and romantic than am I. I would so much rather that the protagonist in a book I am reading would choose a romantic mode of travel – perhaps even hiking. I love the idea
of traveling this way and eagerly await my next Corcoran or Cunningham novel – books like that are so delicious when lounging by the pool at the Four Seasons. Wouldn’t you agree?
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