When I was a teenager I used to fantasize about traveling the world: I was an overseas news correspondent covering the Chinese New Year festivals; I was an English teacher to well-dressed French children; I ate baguettes and various cheeses in parks filled with attractive mustachioed men; and I may or may not ever come back to my home state of Kansas. I couldn’t wait to get away.
So, I did what any self-respecting, lower-middle class, high school graduate would do: I went to the local university because it was the only one I could afford. Truthfully, I had a nice scholarship, a nice boyfriend, and an opportunity to study abroad. I stayed home so that I could really get away. And I did.
In college I studied abroad in a little town in France, and after graduation my new husband and I traveled to Europe before moving to Austin