It’s true, I’m a terrible speller. I blame this weakness on my uneasy suspension between British English, Americana, and le français de Quebec via Southern Ontario. Whatever the excuse, this realization is a blow to my delicate ego, as I spent years thinking that I was sharp with words of all types.

But today, I dug out my battered travel journals from 1988 and discovered the sad truth: there were spelling errors running rampant on every page.
However, this post is not about my fragile ego and self-identification as Spelling Bee Champ. This post is about the $1 Greyson Time Travel Machine, soon to be patented worldwide (otherwise known as a Travel Journal).

I’m not lying: for about a buck, you can pick up a blank exercise book, notebook or steno pad just about anywhere. Forget laptops, Blackberries, strawberries, or any other type of electronic recording device - the simple paper travel journal cannot be beat.

Reading my travel journals from 1988 is a wild experience. It’s not just the spelling errors, or my incredibly wide-eyed naivete. It’s the handwriting: all loopy and tiny, so much tidier than the jaded scrawl I use today. And the stories: I’ve forgotten most of them, until I read the journals and I’m right back in Jerusalem, Wales, Cairo.

But, as someone (ah, old Heraclitus - thanks, Ms. Google) once said: “You cannot step into the same river twice, for fresh waters are ever flowing in upon you.” And although I planned to lazily type in some entries from the journals for the blog, I couldn’t do it.

Yes, the memories are fun (riding bikes over donkey shit! Abu Simbel! chocolate covered halva!) but I realize now that I’m an impulsive editor. I can’t help leaving out the embarrassing details (did I really think that George Bush had a Defense Minister??? what did I learn in high school, anyway?). And, of course, I have to correct all those spelling mistakes.

So, get your own Time Machines, kids. Just bring a dictionary along and a big red pen when you re-visit your former self 20 years down the road.