Few things are most exciting that the expectation of a trip. The check, especially, when life takes you away from suitcases and airports, of adrenaline that infects a plane ticket. The traveler passes as the bullfighter: refuses to cut the queue. Now marks two years of my last big trip. In these months I have traveled, less than they would have liked, but I have not experienced that excitement that precedes a chewed during long journey, scrawled on maps, immersed in books and duermevelas.
The sedentary traveler is forced to look in the mirror. Towards these other trips left behind, a surrogate to bear the routine and feed the nostalgia of the future. To that first plane heading to Athens to 18 years, a mock course weekend trip with three good friends while the rest of the class did the same in one organized by the center. Even then fleeing herd meekness, refuge for many insecurities. We arrived in the capital at midnight helena, without even booked hotel, and the next day we went by boat from Piraeus to miss a week for the Aegean islands.
The traveler passes as the bullfighter: refuses to cut the queue
It has been many years that, but not enough time to distort the emotions of that first experience traveling. Then that break, I felt like an adventure, I found dazzling. The hurricane of flights "low cost" had not yet burst into our lives and there was no news internet. It was all a bit more complicated (and expensive). I remember a trip back, this for several months, a Portsmouth, in southern England. You fiabas of mouth now, with a single click, overflows computer screen travelers thanks to the forums. A recommendation from a friend was enough to decide the fate and the host family. In the absence of mobile and email, we had only the phone booths of the English Court (I do not know if there are still) to make an international call and avoid the traffic of the big city drowning our poor English. We talked to the family in question and close the deal. Arrive within a week to your home. And I did. I had not heard before Portsmouth, but that was the least.
Then I found this stunning getaway. The hurricane of flights "low cost" had not yet burst into our lives and there was no news internet
As I said then (without Erasmus or anything) I found my first intrepid climb to meet the plane around 18 years. Now, however, everything is different. My five year old son has already flown half a dozen times, and has even crossed the Atlantic, and my little girl was released at an airport with only eight months to live. When you are my age, surely not come to understand that his grandfather, my father, flew only once in his life, a Copenhagen, and to celebrate its silver anniversary.
His travels, course, mine condition (also enrich, course, and filled with unexpected nuances). It's a joyful servitude, but servitude to the end of the, I lavished on projects that do not come to fruition and destinations that depart at the same speed with which the dream. Suddenly, have the opportunity to travel to Cape Town to share a few days with a good friend, to relames con un trekking (apologies for the anglicized) by Annapurna or a getaway to paladeas Carpathian with your wife. And your heart nods excited knowing that your chances of carrying out the plans are remote. So, inevitably, accumulation and pages and pages with profuse information on a handful of trips I do not know if I'll make.
Your heart nods excited knowing that your chances of carrying out the plans are remote
But, suddenly, remember one day walking through a city rushed Nordic that you walked away with a guilty conscience after a hit scale. And back to the load. Determined to go ahead, despite the sudoku of organizing domestic quartermaster during our absence (Thanks to everyone s). When these lines are published, already will be in Helsinki. O in Tallin. O in Stockholm. And, even for a few days, I will not have to look at the mirror.
