No amount of coaxing can come from the dearest people in my life that could egg me into travelling.
My romantic idea of a vacation is a quiet retreat in a five-star hotel room, wrapped up in cloudy soft white sheets, having mental conversations with what I am reading and then falling asleep watching TV.
This means I could not care less about stories or conversations about "travelling", which makes me an unchallenging (read: boring) sparring partner in discussions of said topic.
I am willing to concede I will enjoy meeting people of cultures different from mine, or witnessing picture-perfect views of beaches or mountains. Also the notion that travelling "changes" you.
But, to be fair, I do "travel" a lot. I am more of a "mental traveller" than a physical one.
I experience ideas and opinions and thoroughly enjoy the thought process.
Like Colbie Caillat sang in Bubbly, "It starts in my soul and I lose all control," it all starts in my mind and from there, it travels to my heart and then to the rest of my body. The product of my thinking usually manifests into emotions and actual physical reflexes. Reading a truly moving piece can make my heart beat faster and my toes tingle.
The travels I take inward are endlessly rewarding. And the best part about that is that you can make it into anything you want.
If you like beautiful places, then you will be motivated into turning the "place" inside beautiful.
If you like looking out as far as your eyes can see, then you can decide where your horizon is.
If you like to discover things, you will find there is no bottom to your soul.
If you like to break out from your comfort zone, there is that deepest, darkest side within anybody.
The world I'd like to discover is within me and until I have traversed every mile "inside", I doubt any place on Earth can seduce me.
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