Maybe my new favorite book.
A rambling stream of consciousness that eloquently admits the energy, enthusiasm, and enivitable disappointment of being compulsively on the road.
A lot of people claim to “love travelling”, myself included.
We tell ourselves we travel to experience new cultures, it broadens the mind.
Anywhere that is authentic and even somewhat accessible will soon be flanderized into a tourist trap.
So most of what we experience is a watered down, McDonald’s style taste of local life.
All the ingredients seem correct, but the flavour isn’t quite what it could be.
Is there any way to experience the original place that people loved so much when the location becomes over populated and over priced.
The place becomes a husk of it’s former self.
The only local people left are the ones working in tourism, looking for the easiest way to make a buck.
Do we really like travel and experiencing new things, or do we just have a novelty addiction, and don’t want to take on the responsibilities of real life.
But what is real life?
Really, it doesn’t matter.
If I enjoy today, and enjoy tomorrow.
That means I enjoy my life.