These days, it seems everyone likes music, books (arguably) and travel. You would probably be considered abnormal if you claim the otherwise. Aren’t we boring? So we try to be more specific about the types of music we like, the categories of books we read and the styles of trips we make. When that doesn’t seem to be enough, we may just find out that, after all, we are not THAT different. We really aren’t.
What is the deception when you say you like travel? Is it the pleasure of getting from point A to point B? Is it to travel with a group of friends, a group of strangers or just yourself? What is the meaning of making a trip elsewhere that is the place you always want to go, or the place you never think you would go, or the place not far? What you do during the whole process? A lot of preparation work to ensure every day is fully packed with places of interest, or a lot of spontaneous decisions made on the spot of crossroads?
I, personally, do not like travel. I love my bed. I love my smell. If I have to like a place elsewhere, it must have some resemblances to my familiar surroundings. If that is my understanding of myself, I shall be 100% sure that I do not like travel. And yet, I do travel … quite a lot. I like the surprises of nature and humans offer on the way. I like the fact that I am outside of my comfort zone or daily routines. I like the conversations that I make with local people to get a better understanding what I live through the surface of earth.
In return, I am a terrible person to share a trip. What I go through during a trip/voyage is usually contained at that specific momentum. I am too lazy to write it down, frame it up or capture it back afterwards. As time goes by, it starts fading in memory and believe it or not, sometimes I could hardly recall my last visit. Nevertheless, the bits do remain are frequently unforgettable and worth sharing. Then again, constrained with my limited volcabulary, there is little could be conveyed eventually. As T once mentioned, a trip is fundmentally different from a voyage. Because we choose experiences over destination. A true passion for travel comes from the deep comprehension of life instead of destination fantasy. So let’s just say, I would never go to Venice just because it is Venice but it is where I could sit quietly at the St. Marco square and have a decent cup of espresso and tell silly jokes to Gerrit while sun is setting down elegantly at the further edge of ocean. That’s why I was there and will always miss that.
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