A journey of ten thousand miles begins with an expired passport

So I'm sitting in my recently redecorated study. There's a pile of gear behind me and a backpack ready to receive it all. Travel docs printed, destination-appropriate cash on hand, even a little pile of change for sampling random mysteries from vending machines. I know where and when I need to be, and all that remains is going there, then.

Planning a holiday is as big a journey as the one that involves planes and x-rays and snoring fellow passengers with personal hygiene shortcomings. At some point you think "It'd be noice to go see <wherever>." Fast forward a month, it occurs to you that your dream of treading the jewelled shores and/or shaded avenues of <wherever> is no closer to realisation. So that day you take a look at your work calendar, and you notice a neat gap between everyone else's leave, the big round of meetings for the Thing, you know, the One the CIO is keen on, and the start of the next season of <some TV show you like>. And you think "Yeah. I might go <wherever> then."
Another month. You've just been hit with council rates, school fees and the quarterly power bill, still suspiciously high despite the abolition of whatever that tax was that should have saved us five hundred bucks. You've got some work social thing planned for that nice gap in the work schedule, and you're thinking you don't reeeally want to miss the end of the current season of <some other TV show you like>. Maybe the trip to <wherever> can wait another year. Things'll be easier once you've sorted the last payment on the new kitchen anyway.

But then the Moment. You know the one. Someone at work says "Hey, when's your big trip to <wherever>? It's just after the end of that TV show you like isn't it? Are you ready to go?"

You're not. You'd forgotten about it. You'd slipped back into the easy comfort of routine, with no big expenses, no worries about getting someone to cover you at work, water your fruit trees or mind your pet axolotl. After all, it's not like <wherever> was going anywhere, right?

Wrong. And the Moment is when you realise it's getting further away every year (continental drift aside, I'm talking metaphorically here. Stay with me).

The Moment caught me one Thursday afternoon in August 2013. I'd talked about The Trip, savoured my friends' enthusiasm for the plan, even started thinking about the things I'd like to do there. But actually planning and doing? Nup. Nothing.
Fast forward to The Moment. For me it was when I looked at my appointments and realised the date was a week later than I originally said I planned to go. Four hours later I walked out of a travel agent with a ticket to New York and a booking in an overpriced hotel. And a promise to myself that I wouldn't wait for The Moment next time.

Yeah, this hotel. Million dollar lobby, hundred dollar rooms.

I'm a little more organised on this trip. There's a chronologically-arranged, highlighted-and-underlined wad of hotel confirmations, train tickets and tour maps to prove it. Attention to detail ain't my thing, but sometimes something just clicks and suddenly I'm printing annotated route maps from train stations to ferry terminals via notable landmarks. Having said that, there was one, ah, minor oversight: my passport expired mid-holiday. Frankly though, that was less of an issue than the (perhaps thoroughly deserved) ribbing I got from those in the know. Seriously, there was a phone call in which a travel agent was laughing at me in the background.

Anyway, passport was sorted in plenty of time, although an email address typo by the register biscuit at the post office meant I didn't actually get notified. Yeah, that was a fun wait. Never mind; it's good to go, along with all the other travel essentials:

No, the iPad doesn't have a cover. Yes, the bear flies with me. No, I won't describe the contents of the attractive leatherette zip pouch (it's not drugs. Well, it's not JUST drugs.)

There's a knot of clothes to go in with this lot, plus those docs I've wittered on about and a couple of other books. But that's pretty much it. I'm thinking seven kilos, tops. And before you ask how I can manage it, remember: no kids. Luggage required is inversely proportional to the size of the human, and with nobody to entertain but myself (and I can get by on a pen, a notepad and a clear recollection of the funnier moments of every episode of Hogan's Heroes), I'm travelling extra-light.

As to what this trip is all about? It's more than just fulfilling a 'promise' I made to myself to travel more, to see the world, to do something to my horizons or whatever. Life took a pretty amazing turn for me a few months back, and it's put much of what I do into a different perspective. I have a variety of instructions on what I should do, where I should go, and how I should act on this journey. There is however one thing (okay it's technically three) that's at the heart of this new adventure:

So far so good :-)

Oh yeah. I didn't say where I was going. Getting ahead of the narrative a bit here, but perhaps a clue:

See it?