I blame it all on my parents.

Mom, Dad and me on the Thames in London

It's all their fault that I was BITTEN by the travel bug. They are, after all, the ones who decided that instead of the normal congratulatory gifts that most parents give their kids on major occasions ... a.k.a. money, a car ... they would reward me with trips to mark the milestones in my life.

First it was Hawaii ... then New Orleans ... then a trip up the East Coast to Canada and back ... then Spain, hitting Barcelona, Madrid, Seville and a week in Malaga with a day-trip to Tangiers ... then a cruise to Bermuda ... then a road trip up the West Coast from San Diego to San Francisco ... then a trip across Eastern Europe, hitting up Kiev, Ukraine; Minsk and Borisov, Belarus; and St. Petersburg and Moscow.

And those were just the big ones. In between those trips were other ones that were just as meaningful in my growing obsession with traveling. Granted, the various trips span from when I was 12 to when I graduated college, but nevertheless, they shaped a lot of who I am (cheesy, I know, but hey, this is my blog!).

No wonder I fell victim to the travel bug.