She’s just like my passport. I wouldn’t leave the country without her.

For such a great portion of my life that I hardly remember it any other way, my wife has been my traveling companion. Sampling other places has provided us with much enjoyment during the years. Shared experiences from those journeys have bonded us in ways only we can fully appreciate.

Still, as we’ve logged those many miles side by side, sometimes she’s been focused on one side while I’ve been focused on the other.

Earlier this month, we went on what the British call “holiday.” Our vacation took us into England and Scotland where I was fascinated with several locations devoted to literary greats. I was pleased to tour homes of writers and walk the paths they had once walked for inspirations. My wife, though, desired to tour castles and study historical landmarks. We were both quite content to explore a different land and appreciate sights that are unlike those we most often see around our home.

We went to the Tower of London and to the theater while we were in England’s capital city. You can guess who preferred which.

While surveying the massive rooms at Blenheim Palace, I was inclined to notice the titles from the book spines in the spacious library there. This gave me an idea what the occupants of the great house had thought about during their time there. To better understand the period, my wife was more apt to study the furniture and artifacts scattered throughout the 18th century structure.

We stopped in Stratford-upon-Avon. It seemed to us that Shakespeare’s birthplace has become rather commercialized, and our visit there didn’t especially produce a close connection to the famed bard. While there, my wife was distracted by gift shops and began thinking about souvenirs for the grandkids.

In Grasmere, though, as we walked through the gentle hills and valleys and by the lake where William Wordsworth and his sister Dorothy had lived, I could better understand the lyrical ballads that the setting helped produce. Then we visited Dove Cottage where Wordsworth had lived and written, and finally, paid homage to him by visiting his gravesite in the nearby churchyard. My wife was polite and listened to me babble on like a local tour guide as I told her about Wordsworth’s role in establishing what became known as the Romantic movement in literature.

It was she who lectured me in Stirling Castle. I learned about William Wallace and Robert the Bruce and heard interesting accounts of events from the 13th century.

In Edinburgh, she was quick to interpret the importance of the imposing castle. Edinburgh was also the home of Robert Louis Stevenson, Robert Burns and Sir Walter Scott, so I pointed out landmarks that were associated with them.

We were both in awe of the beautiful Scottish Highlands and neither of us had to explain its scenic beauty to the other.

In Glasgow, Scotland, we were reminded of the Glasgow we left back home.

By the time we were cruising on Loch Lomond we were tired and about ready to make our flight back to familiar landscapes.

There remain a few days before the school calendars dictate we remain closer to home. So, we’re planning one more journey together for this summer. We’re headed to San Francisco where she wants to take in the King Tut exhibit. I’m more interested in visiting the legendary City Lights Bookstore there.