I wrote a poem a while ago. About how awesome it would be to travel.
There has hardly ever been a day that has passed in which I haven’t dreamt of breaking free and hopping from one continent to another without a worry in the world. I have dreamt of snowy landscapes of the Himalayas to urban epicenters like Times Square to quaint little villages in the corners of Greece or Italy. I have dreamt of weightless travel and tensionless zipping from one city to another. I have dreamt of a lot of things, yet I know that there are many dreams that will be left unfulfilled, for how many places can I actually “definitely go” to?
I’m a huge fan of traveling. More than the sense of exploration, it’s the pride that comes with being in the moment of actual realization of dreams that fills my heart. Of course, combing down new places to see what it has to offer, watching people from different cultures interact, trying the different food (difficult for a vegetarian but not impossible), and most importantly, making the place my own, are some things that I can never get enough of. That is, if I have the resources to travel. One day, I dream. And then I whisper to myself – not in a creepy way, I promise – that yes, that one day will come.