The date is set and so is my outfit. Well, okay, make that outfits. After all, I am a girl and must be well equipped for all eventualities. What if we go hiking or to bar? What if I get cold in the evening? I tend to get whiny when cold – not attractive – so I need to be prepared. Everything is laid out on my bed: options and outfits and all that is missing is a new lipstick. Just looking at the clothes gives me butterflies and I have no idea how I will sleep tonight or any of the nights until the day has finally come.

Come next Monday I will be able to tell you all about it and if I packed well.

Packed? Well, yes of course. You didn’t really think I was talking about a date here, did you? My new beau ain’t called Tobias, it is called Borneo and I already think I’m in love.

Due to somewhat personal recent events my mother asked me a startling question last week: Are you going to stop traveling once you meet THE guy? My more than snappy response was Why would I do that?. I was baffled by that question because a it was at this point completely hypothetical – thanks for the reminder, mom! – and b it never occurred to me that if I’d meet a guy I liked I would have to choose between him and travel. Though I guess a slightly less snappy no would have sufficed, the idea of giving up my one true love for a guy seems simply preposterous to me.

I wrote before why I hate travel why I hate travel at times so I thought it was due time to write why I believe that travel is also my one true love, no fairy godmother needed. Whether it is Borneo today, Madagascar tomorrow or an overnight stay in Florence. Travel to me isn’t about a specific destination nor is it just about the road. It is about the getting somewhere, about arriving there and eventually the heartbreaking moment of having to leave. Travel is the awe and wonder of falling in love with something that you have never even seen yet or returning somewhere you left a piece of you heart a long time ago. Travel is butterflies, the good and the bad, nervous breakdowns, and too wide smiles – travel is just like falling in love.hy

So with my mom’s question in mind I realized, I don’t want to choose between lust and wanderlust*, I do like all kinds of lust. It usually starts with an idea, with a look, with seeing something I like and consequently want, a guy or a destination. Whether I see someone at a bar or something on National Geographic is irrelevant. I go back for more, for a second look, testing the waters, maybe it was all just a fluke? But oh no – insert prince charming’s or ideal destination’s description here – is still as appealing as it was the first time. My heart starts to beat a little faster and I simply know I have to have it/him. And then comes the hardest part – how to get there? Do I dare? What if I get rejected, what if I dared dream too big and too far?

I usually jump. Sometimes I fall. But if I don’t a first kiss becomes just as exhilarating as the first stroll through a new city, the simple feeling of I have never ever been here before. My mouth gets a bit dry, my heart is now properly racing and it seems like hours though it is mere seconds when my body’s reaction tells me if I like this feeling or not. If I do, I have officially arrived in paradise. That paradise can have actual palm trees or green eyes, but it is cloud nine alright. If I don’t, it is just as bad to be stuck on a bad date as it is to be stuck on a tropical island with non-stop rain that ran out of beer and wi-fi. Both has the potential to break your heart if repeated.

As I said it before – travel and love is not for the fainthearted. But I venture on because the butterflies that come with falling in love are worth it every single time and every broken piece of heart, at least where travel is concerned. And when they say that in order to get over someone, you gotta get under someone else, I prefer to simply get on a plane instead.

*Actually wanderlust is a word I despise, it makes me feel icky, somehow pretentious. Alas, the wordplay was too nice to pass up.


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