Adventure is Relative (Like oh-so-many things.)

It doesn’t matter what the adventure is to others. It matters what it is to you.

We just arrived in a town in the south of The Netherlands and (you might want to shield the eyes of the younger ones in the room) we didn’t have a hotel reservation.

In fact, we had no idea where we were going to sleep. We were going to figure it out when we got here.

Sure, some years ago, this was the norm. Arrive in a town, figure it out.

But now we’re older. More “mature.” More experienced. We want order and predictability and fewer and fewer surprises.

I think I’ll file this under “Important stuff I wish I knew earlier.”

I remember arriving in a complete dump of a town somewhere in northern Tanzania and not only not knowing whether or not we were going to find a place to sleep but not really sure if we were going to survive the night and not get chopped up by local tribesmen and sold for fresh organs on the black market.

But that was then. This is now.

Now I’m a different person. Now it’s exciting to even try to use the phone less to figure it out. You know, walk into a hotel and ask if they have rooms.

Crazy. I know.

But it’s OK. It’s fun. It’s “adventure” at this point in my life. I don’t really want to fear for my life as shady locals walk by and whisper who-knows-what in who-cares-which language on a dusty and dark street in a spot where the bus dropped us of in Africa.

It’s a test. It’s a challenge. It’s good to see how you handle it. Do we fall apart? Do we fall back to what we know? Where we’re safe?

Or do we rise to the occasion and deal with it? Maybe even stare down the challenge in the face and rise to it?

Whatever the case may be. Whatever level of adventure is your cup of tea these days, keep it alive.

No matter the level of adventure, own it. It’s yours.