Travel

I love to travel.

Seeing new places, meeting new people and stepping out of the normal everyday routine is great. Some of my favourite memories are set far away from home.

Yet, I am not sure why I travel.

Is it to see new or as the case may be, very old things? The world is splattered with man made monuments of all sorts: churches, bridges, statues, mosques, pyramids, and so on. We love and have loved to build monuments to god(s), people, events, nations, concepts, and other monuments. It only takes a few years for children to start stacking blocks.

Or is it to see new cultures and living conditions? To be immersed in the different mannerisms, customs and languages? To witness people in severe poverty and war to high living and stylish excessiveness? To experience all variations of Chinese food?

Perhaps I travel instead to learn of myself. To gain distance in both time, distance and spirit from my regular world and have a third-person perspective. To gain insight into humanity and its relation to my own life.

Maybe, travel is purely masked recreation. It's a fun retreat allowing for more than usual freedoms. To do things I would not normally do or be able to do.

I am not sure why others travel. However, when I wonder about my excitement at the next trip, I know deep inside why I travel.

It is the sense of discovery that drives me. It's a feeling akin to exploring a nearby forest, or reading a new book. It may reveal that most beaches are similar, that churches are dark and large and that all children watch rap music videos through satellite television. Yet it's never disappointing for the hunger of adventure is satisfied. 

And why do I reflect on travel? Because Home has become difficult to pinpoint.