What I miss most about traveling and adventuring can easily be described in one word: RUSH!
The rush of excitement you get when your plane touches down in a new place and you can’t wait to analyse how this place is different from whatever else you’ve seen. Which is generally quite hard because often, airports are just airports, but you always manage to find something. The red dust of South-Africa, the palm trees of Marseille, the heat of Australia.
The rush of pride when you walk around a city that used to be new to you, but after only a few days you walk around knowing where you’re going and at the same time still being super comfortable looking like a tourist. That feeling that you’re special because your tourist-self made the city your own.
The rush of surprise that you get when you see something you totally didn’t expect. That is why I generally try not to do too much research before I go anywhere. Usually I only find out about the history of a place and the main sights when I’m midway my stay, so I can be surprised to the fullest. Like the Mediterranean-like beaches in the west of Ireland. Or the coastline that doesn’t look like a line at all because of all the little tree-filled islands in Helsinki. Or the utter feeling of remoteness in the English Lake District tackling the hills around Ullswater before the start of the tourist season.
The rush of amazement… That our world is really that beautiful and special and you get to experience just another fraction of that amazing diversity. Amazement that somehow, that tiny corner of our world releases these feelings in you that you can’t even describe. You can’t pinpoint them, because your mind is racing and utterly content at the same time, and all you see breath live at that particular moment is …