I want to travel. Not just to imagine living abroad and speculate how it’d be but to someday actually gather my things up and leave; to completely surround myself with languages yet unknown to me and strangers as far as the eye can see… Seeing a city through the eyes of its inhabitants brings an entirely different sensation to the experience, and the happiness it would bring me to finally put myself together and do it is too great to be put into words.
Though, dreams, I’ve observed, have a way of never coming true. That someday never comes. As with New Year’s resolutions (where a promise to change is equivalent to a small wardrobe update), dreaming of travelling means looking at two-week trip where the flight time is up to six hours long, yet never booking it…
which is why I’m still in shock. Only four minutes have passed, I notice as the digital clock on my computer strikes 16:00. It feels like ages ago, though, and I still cannot believe I did it. How did I ever sum up the courage, when it was clear from the beginning that I would never dare to? At least, so I had thought. 16:01 – five minutes. Five minutes since I clicked on the confirmation button. Booked.
For the past eight years, I have been putting away money in the “someday” account; and it turns out it has grown to a fair amount by now. This amount, I realised last time I checked it, was enough to live on during a year of travelling. So, of course, I once again began researching different places to visit, and gathering information about other people who had done just what I wished to do – travel the world. The large variety of places, all of them debated on the different sites, along with all too many “think-about-this” advices, gave me more ideas and inspiration than necessary. Perhaps a bit too much, judging from what I did not more than a few minutes ago.
I need a bit of fresh air.
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