I’ve been thinking a lot about travel lately. With two friends vacationing in Budapest, and another two beginning their indefinite global trek in Indonesia, the view from my office on this rainy Thursday is looking a little bleak.
Sure, I can brew my coffee at my desk, clutch my mug between my cold hands and close my eyes, imagining I’m really sipping cafe au lait at a sidewalk cafe in Amsterdam. But soon the dull whir of the overzealous air conditioner and the incessant tapping of my coworkers fingers against their keyboards snap me back into reality.
At lunch, I’ll make a trip to the Farmer’s Market, with it’s strong smells of spices, coffee, and fresh herbs and produce, and its cafe that serves up everything from Asian vegetables to curried lentils to goat stew (no, I haven’t sampled that yet, though I’ve heard rave reviews). And while the diverse clientèle and flags from every possible country decorating the vast building may let me escape for a while, soon it will be back out to the sterile, concrete parking lot – back to the congestion that is DeKalb Industrial Boulevard. Back to the real world.
Later, when the business day is over, maybe I’ll put on my iPod, turn up some Brit Pop, and stare out through the rain. Maybe then I’ll be able to pretend I’m visiting London.
But for now I’m here, and I’m having an anywhere but here moment. Like I’m homesick for a place I’ve never visited. I want to see something new, and right now I’m feeling so dull, so monotonous, that I can’t even daydream of anything exciting.
I believe this is called ennui, no?