“The beckoning counts, and not the clicking latch behind you; and all through life the actual moment of emancipation still holds that delight of the world coming to meet you like a wave.” Freya Stark, Traveller’s Prelude (1950)

Seventeen years ago my husband, then on active duty with the United States Air Force, received orders for reassignment to the 81st Tactical Fighter Wing at RAF Bentwaters in Suffolk County, England. Ten months later the three of us, and our dog MiMi, left San Bernardino, California. We took a somewhat leisurely trip across the country, visiting relatives in Arizona, Tennessee and Maryland as we headed for JFK Airport. One April evening we boarded Pan Am Flight 103 and began a transatlantic journey that forever changed my life.

I remember waking up to a breathtaking sunrise as we crossed the International Date Line. Another still vivid recollection was the incredible mix of people at Heathrow Airport. It took a day or two to get my bearings but the next four-plus years were a fantastic grand adventure that combined travel across the United Kingdom and Western Europe. I informed my husband before we ever left San Berdoo that I intended to take advantage of every opportunity to travel and indeed we did.

We lived in a small village on the East Coast of England near the North Sea. We had a pub, a petrol station, a postal substation and an Anglican Church that traced its pastors to the Domesday Book. We could leave Ipswich, about 30 miles west of where we lived, at 7am and be in Paris by 6pm. We could board the ferry out of Felixstowe, the largest container port in the UK, as foot passengers, sail all night and arrive at Zebrugge, Belgium for a weekend in Bruges and Brussels. Among my fondest memories are bicycling with my daughter through the gardens at the Palace of Versailles and an unhurried tour of the Louvre on one of our many trips to Paris.

This summer I spent three weeks revisiting my beloved England and touring the Continent with four companions. The trip brought me full circle for it took 12 years to return. While in London, a city I love, we visited the National Portrait Gallery especially to see an exhibit entitled, Off the Beaten Track, Three Centuries of Women Travellers. It celebrates the ingenuity, determination, creativity and boldness of approximately 60 women who embarked on journeys that took them far from home between 1660 and 1960. Some of these women, such as Gertrude Benham, hit the road as adventurers. She left home from sheer loneliness and made at least three trips around the world, traveling for not less than a year at a time.

Some of the women traveled purposely, as companions to their spouses or other people, some were scholars, artists, collectors, and writers, like me. Some were adventurers determined to break free of stultifying lives and the rigid expectations of their times. Some were women of color, such as Sarah Davies, an orphaned African who was a goddaughter of Queen Victoria, Queen Emma of Hawaii and Vijaya Lakshmi Pandit, the first woman cabinet member in India. And like me, all of them traveled to England and spent time there.

During our years in England, my family and I traveled extensively. We visited London and Paris regularly. I traveled to Belgium, Austria, the Netherlands, France, Monaco, Italy, Switzerland, Germany, Spain, Scotland, Wales, and places in between, marveling at the history, architecture, culture, and enjoying the food and fellowship. I had the privilege, and pleasure, of visiting, at my leisure, some of the best-known cities and historical sites in England and Europe.

I learned how to live with people whose culture, politics and expectations were different from mine. I discovered how little I really knew even though I’d been studying English and European history and geography since my junior high school days

I was bitten by the travel bug. Unlike some of the valiant women profiled, I waited until I could travel with others. What I experienced on my return was a profound mixture of excitement, wonderment, a renewed sense of belonging and the inspiration to keep writing and traveling. I saw progress, for we lived in England when the Berlin Wall came down and when discussions about the European Union and a common currency were fiercely debated. We were there when the first Gulf War was waged. We were there when Margaret Thatcher was deposed.

I enjoyed revisiting familiar places once again. Perhaps the most valuable lessons I learned this time around were about me, and my relationships with others. I always have enjoyed traveling. This time I found out why.