I love traveling. I’ve spent quite a bit of my time traveling, and if I’m not traveling I’m dreaming of it. I’ve talked about this before, but I caught the Travel Bug, as I like to call it, from a pretty young age. Ever since then, I’m dying to get out and adventure.
I know it’s a bit of a cliche to say that travel has taught me so much, but it would be lying for me to say anything else. I’ve learned to be flexible when plans fall through. I’ve learned to appreciate the arts so much more. I’ve learned languages. I’ve learned first hand about other cultures, and experienced how they live. I’ve learned to respect other people’s worldviews. I’ve learned to acknowledge differences without hating them.
When I travel, it’s like I become a better version of myself. I explore and try new things, I’m flexible and I don’t over plan. For most occasions, anxiety seems to vacate the nice apartment he’s been leasing in my head. I’m at ease, yet out of my comfort zone. Unless travel is my comfort zone?
The point is, I miss it. I’m homesick for my favourite places in Europe. I yearn to visit places I’ve never been, and to see new things. I can’t sit still. I’ve realized that that is where I want to be, and that’s who I want to be.