In less than three weeks, I’ll be leaving this sunburnt country of ours and flying out to Europe. I’ll be cruising the Mediterranean for three weeks, followed by a two week tour of Italy.
Jealous much?
This is my third overseas trip in as many years, and I must admit I am starting to feel quite the seasoned traveller. Airports, which used to freak me out because they are so easy to get lost in (and after China, miss connections because of tightly scheduled flights) don’t freak me out quite so much. I don’t mind flying (it’s statistically safer than driving to the airport, you know) but the novelty wears off, particularly if long haul flights are involved (my solution: sleeping tablet).
I know it sounds cliched but I love the thrill of landing in a strange country, not knowing a single soul. It’s surreal, yet exhilarating. While it’s not exactly the stuff of pioneers, it has a pioneering element to it. Your instincts to survive take over and your senses are on full alert. The ordinary becomes extraordinary.
Really: who needs drugs when there is a whole world out there to explore?
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