Dr. Carolyn Lee reflects on a different cliché each week. Recently, in her blog, “Gone but Not Forgotten,” she discusses the borderline obsession that we have with celebrities. This week Carolyn explores the cliché, beyond my wildest dreams. 

Learn more about Dr. Carolyn Lee on her biography page or investigate 29 more clichés in her latest book, Keep Your Eye on the Ball And Other Clichès to Live by. 

Beyond My Wildest Dreams

In The Little Mermaid, Ariel sings

It would not be hyperbolic for me to say that’s pretty much how I felt the first time I went to Europe. I had wanted to make that trip for most of my young life. I had collected pictures and brochures and maps; I had developed a half-dozen different itineraries; I had read and reread Arthur Frommer’s Europe on Five Dollars a Day, taking notes, scribbling in the margins.

After one year of teaching, I had saved enough money to make my dream come true. My sister and I sailed out of New York harbor on the S.S. France, the largest ocean-going vessel sailing the Atlantic at that time. Six days later, we disembarked at Southampton, England, and began a two-month grand tour, going as far north as Edinburgh and as far south as Rome. We drove our little rental car across the Alps and along the French Riviera. We went to the top of the Eiffel Tower and saw Aida at the Baths of Caracalla. We had a picnic in the hills above Innsbruck and ate roast beef and Yorkshire pudding at Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese in London.

I had been warned before we left that I had romantic notions about traveling in Europe, and I would likely suffer major disappointments as I encountered the real thing. Wrong. What I experienced was bigger and better and more beautiful than anything I had been able to imagine. I spent much of the trip gaping in disbelief at the glory and grandeur of the landscape, the majesty of the castles and churches and cathedrals. When I got home from this travel adventure, I immediately began planning for the next one.

That was nearly sixty years ago. I’ve made many trips to Europe since then. I’ve traveled to the United Kingdom, Japan, Thailand, Australia, and Africa. I’ve set out for each of these places with “romantic notions” and high expectations, and I’ve never come home disappointed.

When I was still very young, I was talking to an elderly person (someone not nearly as old as I am now) about traveling and adventure, and she said, “Oh, I don’t know. I’ve become kind of a homebody. Traveling is just such a hassle.” I felt sorry for this poor old thing, and I vowed never to reach that stage, myself. Now, all these years later, I do see the attraction of home, and there’s no denying that travel is a hassle. But seeing distant places, meeting different people, and experiencing other cultures still call to me, and, with little persuasion, I can have my bag packed, ready to go.

Traveling is magic. I continue to find it utterly amazing that I can have dinner in Fort Worth, Texas, a midnight snack halfway across the Atlantic, and breakfast in Dublin. The Irish countryside can still leave me in tears. Seeing the Grand Palace in Bangkok or the gorillas in Rwanda fills me with awe and disbelief and profound gratitude. Yes, travel can mean inconvenience and frustration; yes, it is time-consuming and expensive; it requires compromise and flexibility and a sense of humor.

But, oh, the rewards! Traveling challenges and changes us. People often refer to traveling—especially the kind that immerses you in a completely different culture—as “life-altering.”  They say if you make this particular trip, you are going to come back a “different person.” Having my life altered and becoming a different person has always had a lot of appeal for me.

I recently completed a three-panel painting that is built around two quotations. On the first canvas, against a background of the shape of Ireland, are these words: “So much of who we are is where we have been.” And across the other two canvases, against a background of the shape of Inishmore is “Life is short, and the world is wide.” These canvases are hanging in my dining room, and I see them every day. They remind me that wild dreams can come true. The wide world is out there, and seeing as much of it as I can during my short life will challenge and change me. I’m thinking maybe a trip to Wales should be next on my list. Who knows who I might be after exploring Caernarfon Castle or going on a guided Sunrise hike in Snowdonia?   

Want to Read More? 

Check out Dr. Carolyn Lee’s blogs on her website, she features a new cliché each week or you can order her new book, Keep Your Eye on the Ball And Other Clichès to Live By. Want to know more about the woman behind the words? Read more about Carolyn here. We hope you enjoyed this article learning more about the cliché, beyond my wildest dreams.