From the earliest days of which I have memory, I felt the need to travel as if it were an extra ingredient in my blood, pulsing in my veins. The pandemic didn’t give me a transfusion; it didn’t sedate my wanderlust. It forced it on hold, as if waiting in a strange airport for updates on a long-delayed flight. I have booked and rebooked so many flights that I had to make a spreadsheet to keep track. But then, finally, thoroughly vaccinated, I made it across the Atlantic.