Things I Miss:
Unlimited and reliable internet connection. Good public transportation system. Being able to walk on the streets at night. Ubiquitous convenience stores and equally ubiquitous (or, within walkable distance) cafes serving a cup of decent espresso-based coffee drink.
Traveling – the act of traveling itself; the movement, changing scenery, sunset over the horizon. The endless chain of thoughts it provokes. Constantly being thrown into the new, the unknown, the unexplored. That adrenaline rush from arriving at somewhere new. Not being entirely sure where I’ll be next week, or even tomorrow. Having an overwhelming, yet equally addictive number of choices available. The utter freedom. And, oddly enough, the sheer loneliness that follows it. The stress — the tension from not knowing who you are. That pilgrim-like flow of reflections. Not belonging anywhere. Intensity and density of every day.
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Things I Miss: Developed World Edition
Fresh produce on sale, virtually everywhere from a street vendor, for a ridiculous price. Like, perfectly ripe avocado for less than a dollar.
Even better, hot meals from a street vendor, freshly cooked upon your order. Filling and delicious, still about three dollars.
The heat, noise, chaos, unorderliness. As in the street market in SE Asia. Daladala stop in Tanzania. The vibrance. Lives on display. All that energy.
At the same time: the serenity. Wide open fields and deserts. Layers of mountains. Deep blue, turquoise, or whatever color of the ocean. A sunset of such vibrant colors as if it’s exploding over the limit of human perception. The sound of the wave. When it’s so quiet you start to doubt if your feet are still firmly placed on the ground.
Traveling has ruined me in a way. Perhaps I left behind a little piece of me in everywhere I visited, and now I’m impossible to please. A reminds me of B, B makes me miss C, and when I’m finally in C, all I want is A. For a short period of time virtually the entire world was in my hands, at my disposal at will. Availability of such vast range of choices is, addicting. Nowhere is perfect. I tell myself I understand that, yet I always dream of something else. Somewhere else. Of being taken away.