Everyone has something that they love, but I am not exactly certain how I came to love travel. You see my family aren’t travelers, for a myriad of reasons, but most especially because they just don’t like it. The few vacations I remember from my childhood almost all turned out bad. We would come home exhausted of each others company and angry and/or disappointed with how things turned out. How do you live in the same house with people, but have an inability to travel together? It’s a wonder that I came to love travel at all after that, but from the very first time I set foot out of my country (without my family) I was hooked.
Traveling gives me clarity; I know exactly who I am and life arranges itself around that self. I travel to meet my extended family and to capture that dynamic unadulterated joyousness inherent in just being in that moment,
Not every travel experience brings me exultation, but I have never regretted the money I have spent or the time I have devoted to travelling.
I travel to slow down and observe the world as it passes. I travel to connect and reconnect, to belong to something bigger than my everyday life. I travel to be in touch with my bliss.
Knowing how fleeting and impermanent life is, I know that I would be less than satisfied if my experience of this planet was limited to just my country of birth. There is a whole lot of world out there and I have serious intentions to explore it all (see my Bucket List here).