Then I started to think about the meaning of that phrase, instead. Envisioning that the author of those words might be talking about a world tour, but he could be going someplace, anyplace. different from where he lived. The more I thought the more I realized that any place is a foreign place, simply, or oversimplified, it is not the place where you live, so that makes it foreign. It could be anywhere between the house on the left hand side of yours right the way round the world to the house on the right hand side.
And in the each case the perspective is different, something is always different, the sunrise and the sunset, the trees, the people and the customs. Differences are in the eye and heart of the beholder, in the willingness to see and appreciate the differences. The same might be said of seeing the similarities, and nuances of familiar, that can make one feel welcome no matter where they are.
Could it be that appreciation of those small differences is the secret to the greatest reward and not the distance traveled or the exoticness of the location. To me, the answer is yes. When I have time there is nothing more soul satisfying to me that to take the scenic route. It's a route I know well, but there is always something different to see.
Later that day, I was sitting by the fire, with my candle making paraphernalia displayed on a wooden picnic table, the fragrance bayberry wax blend, and the summery aroma of melting beeswax, and of course the smell, that going-back to school, reminds me of crayons smell, of melting paraffin wax. And I found myself looking up at a waxing gibbous moonrise in a foreign sky.
