Luis and I love to travel. As busy as our everyday lives have become, we always make room for it.
I have always believed that travelers are born, not bred. They exist with an innate desire to seek out each corner of the earth, sacrificing what they must in order to do so. So it’s not surprising that since we’ve met, just over seven years ago, we’ve been around the world together. And while we still have a lot of ground to cover yet, regardless of where we go, whether it’s the jungles of Costa Rica or roaming around Las Ramblas, our travels usually follow a rhythm; a cycle that repeats itself no matter the place.
I begin to feel it as soon as I step off the plane, the boat or even the train. Everything is new and exciting and it’s as though I am seeing the world with a new set of eyes. This new world looks different, smells different. Time itself feels as though it is standing still, and there are countless hours to explore this new locale. Just finding my way to the hotel is a thrilling adventure. Whether it be in a cab, on a train or in a tricycle, I lose myself staring at the unfamiliar sights surrounding me, trying to pick out a place or two I’d like to visit in the millisecond it takes to whiz by.
Once I’ve been somewhere for the better part of a week, I start to feel comfortable. I know a street here or there, and I’ve found a few restaurants I really enjoy. Maybe I’ve learned a new phrase or two, and for whatever reason, I’m starting to feel a little more “local”. I’m immediately reminded of the spritzs in Venice, the capricciosa pizza in Rome and taking the same street in Paris every evening to the Champs Elysees, passing the well-dressed prostitutes along the way.
But after a few weeks, maybe even a month, I begin to miss the comforts of home. I’ve explored, I’ve eaten like a local and on a few occasions, I may have even been mistaken for one. I start to worry about whether I am a “true” traveler once the pangs of feeling homesick attach themselves to me. I try to remind myself however, that I never really leave each place I’ve visited, not entirely anyway, because being there has changed me or enlightened me in some way. It has taught me something about myself and the world by giving me a unique perspective I’d never had before.
Back home, we enjoy the occasional spritz once and a while, and the capricciosa pizza still makes an appearance across our dinner table. Living in a big city, it’s not uncommon to see prostitutes from time to time, only they are definitely not as well-dressed as their French consorts, but that’s a story for another time!
Do you ever feel like your travel follows a certain rhythm too? I’d love to hear about it!