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LIFE FOR A LIFE(!)

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The point of travelling<br />

‘’Travelling, if i was to put a label on it, it’s (like<br />

life) a schizophrenic chameleon. It’s a party, it’s<br />

an escapist, it’s lonely as helland it’s beautiful.’’ –<br />

Paul Harrington<br />

Sometimes, i find my´self sitting in a bar full of<br />

young minds and beautiful people - all speaking a<br />

language that i cannot understand. Yes, i can<br />

interact, if i pull myself together. However, if i<br />

don’t, then i better prepare myself for another<br />

lonely Tuesday night in a strange city.<br />

People often ask, ‘’why did you start travelling?’’,<br />

and i’m sorry to reply that i don’t have a definite<br />

answer. However, isn’t it just cool to find yourself<br />

walking towards the train stationin Budapest<br />

when all of sudden, some backpacker you met last<br />

week in Krakow calls out your name? Hm, i didn’t<br />

even plan on staying another night, but i’m glad i<br />

did. Running wild, up and down the streets of<br />

Budapest with Nathan and some of his travel<br />

mates totally changed my overall view of the city.<br />

We were on the biliards table when i asked the<br />

barman to call us a taxi to some boat party we’d<br />

heard about. The oppurtunity to give the barman my<br />

business card, while inviting him to view one of my<br />

photo galleries around Europe. Lucky me, his<br />

girlfriend had just finished a photography course.<br />

Thus, a new friend was made. He then pulled out 4<br />

VIP passes to the boat party and handed them to me,<br />

just in case we needed to get in and yes, we did.<br />

Isn’t it funny how interesting we look while<br />

travelling abroad? We were more open to meeting<br />

new people and exchanging stories and ideas. Back<br />

home, not many people would randomly stop me in<br />

a pub, just to ask me where i’m from. So, is<br />

travelling my escape mechanism?<br />

The next morning, i was gone, again. Struggling to<br />

find a bit of sleep on the train, while passport control<br />

keeps flipping past every page and stamp as if he’s<br />

looking for an excuse not to allow me to enter the<br />

country. But he does and after he leaves, the cute<br />

Slovakian girl across the aisle finally speaks to me in<br />

my own native language – ‘’i take it that you are from<br />

America?’’ I return a smile before i speak, realising<br />

that her words and whatever happens next is just<br />

another brilliant reason behind the point of travelling.

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