I like traveling. No, I don’t like traveling, I adore it, love it. It’s my favourite. And it’s basically the only thing I think and dream about at the moment. About just going, leaving my safe home and just explore. Every week, day and maybe even hour I have somewhere new I want to go. And with both family and friends with the love for traveling, too… Well, let’s just say it doesn’t really help my travel-obsessed mind.
I love exploring new places, discovering just how they function. Also the people, hearing their stories and observing their every-day-life. Even though it’s rare that I chat with the locals, I wish I did, and just watching is good enough (I might sound a little creepy, but you know what I mean… I hope.). It’s something special about just going in to a supermarket, shopping for food in a foreign location. And finding your own favourite spots to stop and observe. Or discovering that perfect place to grab some food or a cute shop to get a hot chocolate.
This could be why I also love maps. It gives me an overview of what I have to work with, all the places I could possibly go (at least since space isn’t really an option for me… yet). There’s just a kind of universal beauty about all the colours, lines and dots, lining up and creating our planet.
There’s so much about traveling that I like, that I’m starting to think it’s what I want to do for the rest of my life… Does one really need somewhere to really call home? Can’t I just live out of a suitcase and make my home address “Anywhere On The Blue Marble, Planet Earth, Milkyway Galaxy, The Universe”? I think I would love that.
And maybe it’s not about wanting to escape reality, but to find reality. A reality that is more of my kind of reality. And finding my kind of home.