Wanderlust: the desire to travel.
Apparently wanderlust is not a term that everybody knows. For some reason, I didn’t quite grasp this until I was talking about it recently with two friends at separate times. One of them thought I was referring to having a new beau. The other thought I was sick.
Whilst the first one would have be nice, I fear the latter is closer to the truth. I have a severe case of wanderlust. Travel bug. Itchy feet. Call it what you may, I have it. It has been a crazy few months, full of change, uncertainty, wonderful moments of authenticity, expectations and at times overwhelming busy-ness. To be honest, I would probably describe myself as feeling a little lost. Not in a bad way, but in a way that motivates you to really embrace the moment, because right now is the only thing that is completely clear.
For me, there is something about travelling; getting lost in a place you have never been to, full of people you have never met, who sometimes don’t understand a word you say, that helps you find yourself in a bizarre and utterly wonderful way. Standing in the centre of Paris completely alone, completely lost, with no luggage, no idea about how to get to my accommodation and no clue about how to speak French was probably one of the clearest moments in my life that showed me just what I am capable of. Moments like that are freeing, healing and completely unforgettable.
Although I have no desire to cure my wanderlust, I am longing for the remedy.
Where to? Who knows.