| hot (adjective) | /ʃo/
I spent Labor Day weekend touring Austin, TX with some of my best friends from college. It was entirely too hot (Texas in late August, who knew?), but we didn’t let the heat keep us from enjoying ourselves.
We rented an old Spartan trailer via AirBnB. It was quirky and retro-cool, a fitting abode for a weekend in Austin. The trailer felt like it was constantly in motion, humming, as if it was encouraging us to go, go, go. The Spartan had to compensate for lost space, so we peeked behind doors and opened drawers, never failing to find something new.
We spent our days hopping from one air-conditioned building to the next: breakfast tacos, then iced coffees, used bookstores, thrift shops, afternoon cocktails, and dinner. At night, we sauntered through the bars of Rainey Street, yuppie-filled and blaring, and the West 6th, teeming with hipsters and their punk-rock peers.
I feel the most alive when I travel. Being temporarily relocated ironically makes me feel more myself, because I’m forced to conform to some archetype as I introduce myself to strangers. Granted, this ephemeral identity is some watered-down version of myself, but it’s tidy and accessible, less bothersome than the complex personality I adopt at home.
Be aware: travel of this sort varies from the chronic nomadism I’ve experienced throughout my life. When traveling, I can just be. I don’t have to settle, as one who lives somewhere.
I leave for France in 18 days. I feel it’s important for me to establish myself through these Pre-France blogs, like how an author must construct a well-developed protagonist so that the reader can witness her transformation throughout the novel. So here I am.