Over the last few years, I’ve travelled less and less, especially internationally.
It didn’t used to be like that. I’d visited over 20 countries and hundreds of cities before I was in my twenties.
This fact doesn’t really surprise me. I now live permanently in a foreign country, shouldn’t that be enough? Well, yes and no.
I’m 26. I have close to unlimited freedom. Money, and time hardly tie me down. Relatively, I have a lot of both.
Sadly, I often associate that freedom of choice with emptiness. The crowded exotic beach, or piazza surrounded by hotels.
Conversely, when I think about the expanse of North America, I feel nostalgic, and energized. I remember the sights, sounds and people that I interacted with on my gap year, with a backpack and no real expectations other than visit somewhere new.
For most of us, travel is escape. But i’ve already escaped. For me, travel might be a tool for understanding. A way for me to answer why I’m here and who I am. Rather than anything specific about the country, or a particular city.
So how does this play out? The plan is to to take short mini-vacations, four day weekends, often, pack light, and…