Why I Travel
Missing the awe and inspiration of international travel
I miss travelling.
I used to travel often, sometimes with family, sometimes with friends. From the brainstorming of possible destinations to the thrill of taking off, I enjoyed the entire process.
Much like the early stages of romantic love, the lure of travel obscures the pain of visa applications, iterative discussions about itineraries and endless scrolling through hotel listings.
Given the bittersweet nature of travel, I have no doubt that the compulsion to remain homebound is making me pine for travel more ardently this year.
When I moved to the United States, I found the wide open spaces disconcerting. In densely populated Mumbai, where I grew up, walking down familiar streets meant running into at least a handful of people I knew.
In America, I could walk past carparks filled with cars, but not make eye contact with another person.
After hours of driving, I would find a McDonald’s outlet that looked exactly like the one in my neighbourhood; unlike in India, where dialects and cuisines changed as our vehicle passed through districts and states.
