Why we do it

"For my part, I travel not to go anywhere, but to go. I travel for travel's sake. The great affair is to move."
Robert Louis Stevenson.

A close friend of mine is getting ready to depart on a big trek around Europe. She's never been before and she'll be gone for 40 odd days so for her birthday present I'm making something that I hope will be useful to her. (I won't say too much more in case she's reading.)

I feel like giving her an arsenal of advice and then I feel like telling her nothing at all. It's no secret that travelling is exhausting and riddled with hiccups and rude awakenings. It's tiring and unforgiving. No two experiences can be the same. So why do we do it?

"Travelling is a brutality. It forces you to trust strangers and to lose sight of all that familiar comfort of home and friends. You are constantly off balance. Nothing is yours except the essential things- air, sleep, dreams, the sea, the sky- all things tending toward the eternal or what we imagine of it."
Cesare Pavese.

For as long as I can remember I've loved to travel. The mere idea of going somewhere new is addictively thrilling to me. It's not just the destinations that excite me, it's the travel itself that resonates. I love road trips. I love airports. I like trains. I love being in the middle of nowhere. I love challenges. Most of all I love memories.

25 July 2010, Paris

"Well the Rouge was not what I was expecting. The general rule of thumb while you are travelling I've realised is to forget everything you see on the movies... The three course dinner was fantastic, plus we got copious amounts of white wine and champagne. After the show (which was kind of like a talent variety show complete with minature horses and talking poodles) things get a little hazy because we went to an English bar 'O' Sullivans'. Yes, I broke my own rule of not getting drunk while travelling (because a, it's a waste of money and b, you're likely to ruin your following day, which is pretty much what happened).

I felt fine early in the morning but my mood and health quickly deteriorated on the way to the perfumery Fragonards. Literally I walked in, grabbed Mum and I a selection of mini perfumes and ran out again. Took a taxi back to the hotel for a two-hour rest after which I promised myself I would continue the day, like it or not.

And so I did, though rather precariously. I grabbed a baguette to line my now empty stomach (the most delicious thing I've ever eaten- ratatouli with camembert and smoked salmon) and made my way to the Louvre. I've been reading the Da Vinci Code so I kinda wanted to see the museum but I really wanted to see the Mona Lisa. I managed to find her, but so did 1000 other people. It's pretty cool to say I've seen her though. I didn't stay for anything else.

The following day was my last in Paris ... so I was determined to get up the Eiffel tower, which I did after a very long wait, but the photos came out well. No proposals though (for me, or otherwise). Spent my final few hours lunching, again on the Champs d'Elysees, walking along the Seine and then resting my feet in a park.

Overnight train to Rome was fairly horrific but something to look back on and laugh. First the train was delayed two hours, then we boarded and realised we would be sleeping in sardine cans. Then we went to get "dinner" and realised all they had for sale was pringles and gum. 16 hours of a non air conditioned sleep later and we made it to Rome relatively unscathed. Our tour guide picked us up, took us to the hotel for a shower and then we headed to the Vatican. St. Peters had closed but I had a look at the Sistine Chapel which is very awe inspiring. It took him three years to paint which sounds about right as it's massive.... "

25 July, 2010 - Moulin Rouge, Paris