Traveling is trippy, no pun intended. If love is like heroin, then travel is something like acid. Still a drug, but less destructive.
Why? Well, there’s the obvious — it’s addictive, in a way. The feeling that comes with exploring new grounds, meeting new people, and discovering a different culture is kind of like a high.
Also, time changes when you’re traveling, and I’m not talking about time zones.
It took until my most recent trip through Europe to realize the difference between how the passage of time feels for people back home, versus how it feels for the traveler.
When I lived in Spain last year, I hadn’t picked up on it yet. I didn’t realize how much slower everything felt for me. When I came home, I realized that most people felt like I’d barely been gone, like that nine months had flown by.
You might also like “Meditation is Like a Hole That’s Punched Through Time”.
It makes perfect sense, though. When you’re off traveling, you’re much more conscious of time. You’re trying to make every moment count. Even in a situation where you’re abroad for months like I was, you still know that it’s limited. There’s an ominous end on the horizon.
As the traveler, you’re doing so much more. You’re not simply zoning out, pressing autopilot…
