Ah the satisfaction of emptying our suitcases for more than a couple days!
I look around and already feel at home. Here, it’s worth carefully choosing a purpose for each drawer… worth taking out all of our books and organizing them on the shelf… worth finding somewhat of a permanent spot for our toothbrushes. Time and space look quite different when you know you’ll be somewhere for a few weeks, a few months. And after being on the move for about 4 months, this feels quite refreshing.
Now, I am not complaining, of course. We’re traveling, living our dreams! I should not care for drawers or an address to receive mail. I get to experience new smells, new tastes, new sights on a daily basis. I get to be here or there one day and somewhere new the next day. The excitement one feels when packing up before a holiday or daydreaming of new adventures, well I feel it almost every day. And no, it doesn’t get boring and it doesn’t fade. I still love it all! But the question is… are we, traveling?
This is simply our lives. And although I do feel like somewhat of a gypsy at times, I do not really identify as a traveller. Perhaps I am living and traveling more than average. But I appreciate the pauses and adapting to a new neighbourhood, new culture, for a few months. In fact, I have found that my personal limit for not having an address is about 3 months… Because I want to get to know the people at the local cafe. And I want to learn the names of the streets and bus schedules around my house. And I want to feel at least one season change and see the people adapt.
I am not a traveller. I do not go on trip after trip after trip. Traveling is simply the first step to each of the grand adventures that make up my life. So in some way, travel has blurred into life. Or my life is enhanced through travel…