I can’t completely say how it ends, but hopefully it ends happy.
I’ve been in South Africa for the three weeks now and return to the United States in another week from now.
I’ve loved traveling ever since I started visiting the Philippines to visit my Dad in 2014. It was some crazy shit to me, to be in a country where life was flipped upside down. It wasn’t like connecting with someone from a different culture in Philadelphia, it was living in that culture 24/7.
Since, I’ve visited twice more, drove cross country in the United States, and traveled to Singapore, Japan. Mexico, France, Iceland, the United Kingdom and am currently in South Africa.
There’s nothing more exciting than planning a trip, hopping on the plane, and awaiting what will happen next.
For me though, what happened next gave the travel bug permission to loosen it’s grip on me. What. The. Fuck.
It’s a weird feeling, scary even.
Is it the constant touring, the scheduled lifestyle, being around the same people each and every day, or the fact that I just don’t jive with South African culture (I take it back in regards to art and music).
I can’t say what it is exactly, but then again, traveling always teaches us, and this question in itself is worth learning from.