Travelling is an addiction, it’s a disease that buries itself deep inside you; a niggling itch you just can’t scratch.

A compulsion that needs to be quelled.

It is an obsession, that stays with you after that first fatal trip where the disease gets into your bloodstream and you know you are hooked.

Your first trip should always be documented as it will never be your last, love it or hate it , travelling evokes feelings, gives you new experiences and for whatever reason it always leaves you wanting more.

It is hard for a traveller to ever feel completely whole in-between trips, as there is always a tiny piece of you missing, laying dormant waiting for its next fix.  That yearning feeling needs to be locked away in order to survive, in order for you to function normally in-between trips.  You manage to suppress it for a while, then you see a show on tv, read a book, listen to someone else’s travelling experience, and you feel it bubbling up to the surface again, threatening to explode and consume you once more.

When your every day life starts becoming mundane, when you feel as though you are going nowhere you start fantasing about your next adventure, the holiday that will save you and make you whole again, the fix that will kick your adrenalin into overdrive and make you feel alive again.

Travelling is a drug.  Travelling is lust and desire.  Travelling is an intense passion.  A cruel seductress always enticing you, luring you in, making you want it more and more.

Travelling is a bitter-sweet love affair.


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