From Wanderlust to Obsession

often ponder how it all came to be, what triggered the change. Perhaps you can shed some light on it in the comments section? It was in 1986 when my mother surprised us with the news of a holiday. A holiday! My mind immediately jumped to the possibility of revisiting Polperro, as until then, I had only experienced three "holidays," all within our country. Two trips to the charming Cornish town of Polperro and one to Barking, part of Greater London, summed up my 11 years of life. However, to my amazement, my mother, a newly divorced single mother, revealed that we were traveling to Elounda in Crete, Greece.

I wholeheartedly embraced this trip, feeling that it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. With my mother, grandmother, and sister, we embarked on this Greek island adventure, brimming with a sense of freedom. Back then, holidays were rare in the place I called home, the quaint town of Portland. When asked about going on a holiday, most parents would respond, "Why would you want to go on a holiday? Look at what we have here!" But our circumstances were different. We were a financially struggling family. In 1986, I even received my first store-bought clothes. How did my mother's divorce suddenly make her affluent? With the benefit of hindsight, I now understand. It was my resourceful and frugal grandmother who had diligently saved to provide us with this extraordinary trip, following a challenging year.

To my surprise, just a year later, my mother announced another holiday. This time, we set our sights on Malta. However, the excitement of our trip was overshadowed when my father unexpectedly passed away, weeks before our departure.

The year 1988 passed without any mention of a holiday. Then, out of the blue in 1989, the announcement came once again. We embarked on an adventure to the Algarve in Portugal. Unfortunately, it would be nine years before our next holiday, and by then, my mother had also passed away. It was after my marriage that I had the opportunity to visit Kefalonia, thanks to a retirement payout and a belated honeymoon gift. One year later, accompanied by my wife and grandmother, we returned to Elounda in Crete.

However, a significant gap followed—19 years without a holiday. And truth be told, I didn't mind, or at least, I thought I didn't. Yet, there was a part of me that cared. Life took a turn as my relationship status changed, and I met a partner whose greatest joy lay in travel. We embarked on a trip to Venice, initially expecting it to be our only adventure that year. However, over the next few months, our travels gained momentum. Vienna followed shortly after, and we even found ourselves in Copenhagen, celebrating the Christmas season. Unexpectedly, we made a decision, perhaps influenced by my input, to travel to Luxembourg between Christmas and New Year. From there, we explored France and Germany.

Now, six years have passed, and whether together or apart (as I began attending international film festivals), I have embarked on 67 international adventures, with almost all of them centered around leisure and recreation.

Something within me has changed. I find myself obsessing over travel, and as I write this, I am counting down the days until my next trip: 27, 26, 25. My mind is consumed by the thought of being elsewhere, on a foreign shore, experiencing the unfamiliar. While the idyllic image of basking in the sun, with a gentle breeze caressing my face and a peacefulslumber, remains a distant dream, I yearn for it nonetheless. However, our trips are far from restful. We exhaustively move from one place to another, visiting churches, islands, caves, and briefly pausing on beaches. This obsession has taken hold of me. In just 25 days, I will be departing for Switzerland, marking my fifth international trip this year. But that's not all. Less than three weeks later, I'll be heading to Bellagio, followed by visits to Oslo in November and Lanzarote in December. Who knows what other opportunities may arise in between.

How did a person who rarely ventured beyond their own borders become consumed by this passion for travel? When did my life become so intertwined with exploration that thoughts of my next journey dominate my mind?

Looking back, I can trace it to a period when travel was inconceivable. I underwent numerous relocations due to my demanding and diverse job. Each year, I would find myself in a new place, starting afresh in a different town, compelled by the demands of my career. I became accustomed to being an outsider, an alien in unfamiliar surroundings. And that's precisely what has happened. I find solace in being somewhere unknown, walking the streets anonymously, free from the chance of encountering anyone I know. I am at peace, detached from the familiar world I once knew. However, now that I have established roots, my escape lies in being anywhere but here. Ideally, somewhere with temperatures at least five degrees warmer than my current location, preferably ten degrees higher.

There is an exhilarating comfort in being in a foreign land, basking in the warmth of the sun, with joy permeating my heart, and the murmur of unfamiliar languages filling the air. I feel a deep sense of tranquility and acceptance in this unfamiliar world. There is no judgment, no need for small talk, and no mundane interactions with uninteresting individuals. My life no longer revolves around a television screen. Instead, I am on a journey—a journey that brings me happiness, knowledge, and an inner peace that my parents never truly experienced.

I am an alien, and I have always been one. But now, I have come to embrace and acknowledge it.