Travel is not all beautiful scenery and wild adventures.
It is not all delicious meals and magical sunsets.
Travel is long days on cramped sweaty buses.
It is unsanitary, toilet paper-lacking bathrooms (if you’re lucky).
It is days of rice and bread, dorm-room snorers, and parasites taking over your digestive system.
Travel is wearing dirty clothes, and feeling anxious and vulnerable as you navigate unfamiliar streets in languages you cannot speak.
Travel is feeling lonely and forgotten.
In the time that I spent traveling my grandmother died, I dealt with a heartbreak, learned which friends are genuine, and spent days lost in the enthralls of my mind.
There were days that I hid in my bed thinking through what felt like every event in my life.
There were days when I felt alone and misunderstood, and days that I felt completely disconnected from everyone.
In this time of deep introspection I also learned to let go – of people, expectations, control, my past, and my future. I began to heal. I began to trust again.
I fell in love with people, places, cultures, and more importantly with myself.
I began to see the world in a new light. I learned so much from the people around me, and from myself.
I began to appreciate the difficult parts of traveling, and even invited them in as lessons and opportunities for growth.
Travel is long lonely days spent internally navigating and processing the workings of the mind.
Travel is meeting beautiful souls and realizing distance means nothing when it comes to the connectedness we have with one another.
It is learning to trust your instincts and to love yourself for all your flaws.
It is learning to see each moment as a blessing and a lesson.
Travel is letting go of fear.
Travel is recognizing that we are never truly alone when we lead our lives with love.