I really like to travel. I mean, I stay at home a lot, because a) The Day Job and b) traveling means throwing money at things like transportation and a place to rest my head at night and also food. And when I was in France, I didn’t really do any day trips out to places – when I went out, I went for a week or for two weeks at a time. Unless I’m already familiar with a place, I want to spend at least two days there to explore it a bit. I’m kind of useless at navigating without constantly checking the map every three seconds, but I like to get the feel of a place. And once I’ve gone from Point A to Point B with a map, I can pretty much retrace my steps without a map without very much trouble.
Unless we’re talking the Green Belt metro. Don’t Talk To Me About the Green Belt Metro.
Thank God for GPS, that’s all I can say.
It helps to take pictures, and it helps to write it down. I can press memories into a page like a dried flower, and the words help me to remember those places almost as vividly as the first time I experienced them. I’ve been putting them into my fiction, too, along with my little black book. What’s the point of recording something if I’m not going to share it with others? (As for the little black books – maybe after I’m dead. There are some things, especially in the older ones, that are a bit too embarrassing to have other people read while I’m still alive.) I put Arras into Singing in Key, and I put Arches National Park into The Wayward Changeling, and what’s cool is having people who have also been in those places recognize them in my writing. There are some places I’ve never been that I’ve experienced through books, and I’d like to be able to do that with my own writing, too.