It’s something I think about often. It’s not something I’m very good at putting into words, but I’m going to give it a go.
It’s my happy place. It’s the place I feel most alive, and I’m not held to the restrictions of the every day. I like to get lost, I like to explore, and I enjoy that time on my own. The only restrictions placed on me are the ones I put on me.
I’ve learnt more about the world I live in by travelling than through any other means. You get to talk to locals, you get to share a part of there lives, and I enjoy immersing myself into a culture that I knew nothing about 5 minutes ago. The food, the sights, the sounds, and the stories.
I remember what it is like to be me. The real me. Not with all the stress. Not with all the bullshit we all have to deal with on the every day. I get to think deeply about things, and spent my time exactly what I want.
I meet people I wouldn’t get to meet in any other circumstance. I meet young travellers on their gap year, I meet people escaping a life less ordinary, I meet empty nesters travelling the world, and they come from every walk of life. They tell me their stories, and show me a glimpse into there world.
Most of all, it’s a big world out there, and as St Augustine said
“The World is a book, and those who do not travel read only a page.”