I was 20 years old the first time I went to Europe, my maiden overseas travel. I had saved money from a waitressing job and would spend it slowly over the next two months. I didn’t eat many good meals on that trip, but I did see the great cathedrals and museums, took ferries and trains and buses, heard German and French and Italian. I learned, much to my delight, that Europe really did exist, and that it was just as romantic and wonderful as I had hoped.

After that, I was hooked. And that — and a host of other decisions — led to my current work, a job that lets me travel occasionally.

Tomorrow, I leave for Cambodia. It’s a hastily-planned trip with an itinerary I just received this morning and a ticket booked just three days ago. I’m still figuring out exactly where we’re going — and I’m hoping we have at least a half-day in Angkor Wat.

The people I’ll meet, the places I’ll see, the sights, smells and tastes I’ll experience — those are still up for grabs. But of one thing I am certain. It will be an adventure. It always is.