It is hard to explain to someone why I choose travel, and additionally the nomadic variety, as a high priority in my life. Someone once said to me, “You’re leaving for eight months, and spending all that money (which in all reality isn’t really all that much), just for an experience?!” To me, it’s not “just an experience,” it’s a way of life. No, it is life- just a different kind....

Even some people who travel do not understand. The folks who travel to one destination and spend a large chunk of time there, do not understand how one can resolve themselves to a lifestyle of wandering for long periods of time, and not have the urge to settle down. I have to say; I do see the benefits of travel of this sort. One becomes thoroughly immersed in the local cultures and finds a new life here, full of most of the amenities one would have back at home; A sedentary dwelling to come back to at night, complete with their own bed (definitely an underrated commodity in the life of a stagnant), a familiar group of friends, familiar restaurants and bars, local routines to follow, such as riding bikes down the village gravel roads to the local bakery to buy your bread for the day, etc, etc. Overall, from what I have experienced and from what I have heard, travel of the long-term-transplant type has one major draw- familiarity. One would stay in one place long enough to acclimate with their surroundings and thrive in the learned familiarity of local routines that time brings. And I can understand that- I can see the appeal of this form of travel and I do not condemn it or speak any higher to my own chosen variety.

But to me, the life of a nomad is simply and utterly captivating. There must be something built into your genes on what type of traveler you are; either you’re a type N or a type T (Nomad or Transplant), and I am without a doubt a type N. There is just something about the thrill of change that a life of wandering brings, and I believe it must be written into my soul because it is so strong I know of no other explanation. Perhaps I have ADD or the like and cannot function unless my senses are constantly overloaded on new and different stimuli. Perhaps it is due to a character flaw in which I am not satisfied with what I perceive to be monotony. But I think it goes deeper than that. I think somewhere during my past travels I acquired wanderlust, and since then I have done nothing but encourage it. I can’t put my finger on it, but somewhere along the line, this feeling became an integral part of who I am. The thought of spending months wandering through train stations, never knowing where my next bed will be, never knowing, to be cliché, what tomorrow holds, seems like pure heaven to me. The excitement of immersing myself in so many different atmospheres, ambiances, peoples, cultures, is almost overwhelming.

Thus, I chose to travel for an extended period of time across two continents and I am not yet sure how many different countries. Perhaps I will tire of life on the road and long for a chance to dwell in the familiar. I am sure there will be times when I will miss my friends and family and the familiarity of my large, pillow-laden and overly soft bed. However, the chance of this does not discourage my wanderlust and need for the road one bit. You cannot change what you are made of, and I would never want to.