Given that you’re a traveler and movement all around sparks and stirs and brightens your many lives, what happens when the external action and interaction ceases? What happens when silence arrives the moment you sit still and pause from the demands of the nomadic lifestyle? Where do you take the destinations you’ve been even as your journey continues?
October 2013: I wormed my way into the path of traveling (let’s scratch those fieldtrips goodbye), that is to mention being on a cramped plane with the monotonous voices of flight attendants, squeezing inside the tuk-tuk with newly-made drunk friends from foreign lands, listening to the cool wind and sipping my third cup of instant coffee on a cozy hammock, walking along the narrow pavements of the city with a talkative guy from the hostel. It changed my life, and it kick started the best and the truest points of living. For one who speaks after 25 years of existence, I might have been born again. Every traveler we’ve met, every travel blog we’ve read may say similar things of why traveling is essential. Nothing can truly teach us how to live except by living it, and by living I mean plunging into it wholeheartedly.
Where to plunge, you say?