Away from the murky life as an adult, I remember when, even as a teenager, it was already clear to me that I wanted to travel the whole world. I found the variety of cultures, cuisines and places exhilarating from the very beginning.
Over the years, I have been fortunate to be able to be in places that, although not on my list, have been positive for this super young soul goal.
From vibrant landscapes to quiet, endless cities, every sight has been worth every drop of sweat it took to get to see them. Also, along the way, I've been able to meet special people who have helped me better understand the social dynamics of every corner I've been to (I like to understand why people behave the way they do).
Then, at times, I think I find some rest in a new destination, but something inside me always pushes me to get up from the comfort and keep walking, as if it were a mandatory mission.
Traveling! What an expensive hobby (or passion). Why couldn't I like collecting junk or abandoned oldies? Maybe there will be something necessary in my destiny to swim in The Bahamas or walk the streets of Monaco. Who knows. I hope I can continue to see more places and make a great album that I can show my children and grandchildren in the future.
However, in spite of this like of being on the go, I'm not sure I could keep a nomad life for long. But, if you ask me: yes, I would like to take the risk of being broken to experience this weekend, for the first time, the adrenaline of exploring a little known place, dancing to a special rhythm with some tribe or sharing an ice cream with a monkey in a distant temple.
.jpg)
.gif)