The Itch to Adventure

I'm thirty nine, single, raising a wonderful young man (age 10) by myself, own a home. And at times I can't help feeling that my life has become the culmination of years of unusual choices, random chance and sometimes limited opportunity. Don't get me wrong, I love my life. I love the few people that I share it with and I wouldn't wish to be anyone else. I love my passions and career choice. I enjoy the time I have being single (in order to be a better father if you wonder) Here is the problem, some nagging quarter of my brain is begging me to depart on some grand adventure. I want to wander to forests of Costa Rica taking pictures of orchids, share coffee and cigarettes with refugees, close myself in a small Lexan bubble and watch strange jellyfish on the bottom of the sea, write poetry to beautiful, exotic long-haired women in the streets of Italy, get frostbite, eat un-namable dishes in remote villages. I feel that my life will be too short to live it to the fullest. That there are too many things to see, to many words to hear, too much money needed to make all of this happen. Anyone else out there with the same itch for adventure?