17/05/2018
So, you want to be a long-term traveller?
If you think this is what people call comfort zone, you’re wrong, because by doing this you will find out who you are but most importantly who you are not and who you’ll never be.
If you don’t know how it is to stay in the middle of the road without a map, if you have never let yourself get lost into the wilderness without a chance to be saved by someone else instead of you, stay home.
If you’re afraid you’ll lose the best pieces of advice from your friends, their calls, the late night meetings, their laughter when something goes wrong, your mother’s voice, your father’s caress, your siblings’ bundle of joy, don’t do it.
If you think you will never be able to have a serious relationship while on the road but only love affairs without a happy ending, if you think love is just an old school concept, too staind and dispassionate for this new century, don’t do it.
If it doesn’t get easier to say ‘goodbye’ and ‘see you soon’ in front of every airport, railway station, hippie van, boat, ship or sailboat from this world forget about it.
But if you suddenly start feeling hungry for change and foolishness, if notions like “that isn’t possible” make you grin from ear to ear while making your backpack lighter then wait patiently.
If you never felt the urge of running to the nearest train station and leave all your clothes at home do something else.
If you think it’s nonessential to explore the world and discover new cultures, if you don’t want to learn new languages and develop new skills, you’re not ready.
When it is truly time you will wake up one morning, take your backpack, open the door,
leave the maps in the drawers and the keys in your pocket, and without thinking too much
you will travel until you die or the world ends while you’re doing it.
Because my dear long-term traveler
there is no other way
and there never was.
Inspired by Charles Bukowski’s poem
“So you want to be a writer?”
— Smaranda Rutzu
