Imagine, somehow, that you’ve avoided looking in the mirror for 4 years. Then one day you look.
After almost 4 years of travel, last week I returned to England, possibly for good.
The feeling is bittersweet. In many ways, it’s the end of an era.
We’ve all been there. Graduating from high school, or university. Leaving a job we’ve worked for years. Times in our life where we have to transition from one way of living to another. Continue reading Returning Home After Travelling
If you so much as stood on an airplane 50 years ago, you’d probably made it in some way. You could afford the luxury of air travel and that meant something. You had status. But for most, travel was a fantasy – something that people did in books or the National Geographic.
After a few weeks in a country, the food starts to seem a little less tasty, the land a little less mysterious. We would be comfortable sitting by a pool all day reading a book, letting the rest of our time slip away into idleness. But our comfort is tinged with guilt.
To travel long-term you must leave your friends behind. You must face the knowledge that life goes on without you. That time doesn’t stop with your absence, that you aren’t the centre of the universe after all. Continue reading Travel and Friendships
Seven or so years ago, I was at university and severely depressed. I could barely peel myself out of bed in the morning, I didn’t have the energy for anything. Going to the kitchen to make breakfast was like climbing a mountain, so most days I didn’t bother. It was easier to starve. Eventually, the hunger would become too painful and only then would I stumble to make a sandwich. I was completely unmotivated.
I was completely unmotivated. Continue reading Motivating Yourself to Travel
Around four years ago today, I was sitting in an office, staring out the window, dreaming of travel. I’d finished university a few years earlier and instead of continuing to chase my passions, I had stayed put. I was trapped like a deer in the headlights of life. Paralysed and unable to do anything.
My friends all seemed to have gone on to better things. But me? I still lived with my parents, moving between menial jobs, doing not a lot of anything. Just sitting in an office day-by-day. Staring out that window. Dreaming. Continue reading I Quit My 9 to 5 Job to Travel (And It Didn’t Solve All of My Problems)
In a not unsurprising turn of events, research has found that reducing Facebook use helps with depression.
Researchers argue that Facebook users only ever post about the good events in their life. This is leading to their friends having unrealistic expectations for their own lives. Continue reading Are You Making Your Facebook Friends Unhappy?
Travel, eventually, turns everybody into an insufferable prick. Maybe at home you are the most level-headed person in the world without the tiniest shred of pretension. But spend a long enough time away and it will happen. You will turn into one of those people. You know the type I’m talking about. The people who “find themselves.”
I pace quickly up the hill. My feet slamming into the mud of the trail.
My heart is racing, my body sweating. Legs ache, lungs burn. I can’t stop though. There’s something in the trees behind me. Something scary. Not a bear or a monster. Much worse than that.
Now you may think from my last post about socialising while travelling, that I’m a lover of conversation. The truth is, I hate it. I am a level 99 ninja at avoiding it. There’s a lot I’d go through to get out of a conversation. Including climbing a mountain.