As I sit isolated in this strange city of London in the times of pandemic, my thoughts constantly waiver to the world beyond. The countless minutes invested in discovering history, culture, heritage and liveliness of this place, lost in the alleys and searching for the hidden secrets. The excitement never seems to cease. Countless people have questioned the childlike curiosity and yet it all sums up to the idea of travelling.
Travelling has been a desire, a penchant to perceive the unknown, unplanned and disorganised. To be lost in a world of culture, tradition and a lifestyle you have not been exposed to before.
I have been called careless, lethargic, immature haphazard. But have you ever had the pleasure of being lost in a city? Discovering its soul while regular tourism leads you the other way. There is a charm in being lost, addiction to explore, to unlearn and learn.
It isn’t easy to embrace naivety or newness, but not running away makes the experience easy on you. Still adventurous, still astonishing, but driving you through a learning curve. Yes, it drives people mad, confused for being unable to take a call. However, once tasted, once observed, the numen changes a person forever. That’s what travelling does to you.
It is the openness of a desire to conquer all, discover the unturned leaf, yet living in the moment. Travelling shapes you, forges you and moulds you to become a spiritual vagabond. It provides people with unique experiences in their own rights.
Yet, when people ask you to narrate the same, you are left bereft of words. You want others to personally embrace what you have cherished so far. The way I embarked on this journey to the unknown.
A journey to the pandemic, a memory of survival.