Bag Packing Through Memories

“Katy, get your bags packed” would become the most irritating of my parents’ commands over the next eight years, as I always ceased to organise myself. One thing was for certain – my ebullience would be sure to keep the whole row on the plane awake for the rest of the journey.
You're welcome, neighbours.
The day after we’d landed in Ibiza, we found ourselves strolling back and forth up streets until my father finally decided to ask a pedestrian if they knew where the local zoo was. Strolling aimlessly down the zoo, I was entering the world of flying elephants when I was suddenly confronted with something I never imagined to have witnessed on an abrupt two week adventure.
Water exploded everywhere, while high pitched squeals could be heard from the other side of the city. The looks on people’s faces were enough to give the game away: a dolphin show. Not even my family had been expecting such a discovery at the far end of a local, run-down zoo, which, I guess, made me feel a little less ditzy for not acknowledging what I was metres apart from.
My eyes were blurred with the blue of the floor and the orange of the seats as I bolted up the rows of seats, becoming Usain Bolt’s rival. It was the best day of my life...so far.
While my first time to Spain (and abroad) was to be a blast, it was in no way comparable to the discoveries I made on my following two Spanish adventures: Tenerife and Menorca.
“Katy, get your bags packed” could be heard once again the night before we had to head for the airport.
We were wandering round fields of knee-high grass with the Spanish sun extending to every part of our delicate, British skin, while trying to find an act of amusement. Just as we were about to give up on hope, I could finally spot a line of brown in the horizon, eventually identifying the ‘brown’ as cliffs. I opened my arms wide and embraced the ultimate feel of freedom. Bewilderment got the better of me.
As the years bypassed, the command of “Katy, pack your bags” almost became an annual obligation. By the time I had reached seventeen, my family and I had made many more discoveries in many countries.
Now eighteen-years-old and a responsible adult, the discoveries can only grow with my journey of solidarity to Australia in September, where my gap year commences. While, of course, I haven’t yet made any discoveries in Australia, I guess wishing I could hear “Katy, pack your bags” again is the biggest discovery I could ever make.