A month ago I was preparing my first trip to Italy, more exactly Florence, as you have probably read on my blog. Low cost flights from London land on Pisa, and that was exactly what I did. It is really easy to get to Florence from Pisa. You can take a bus or the train. I took the train – there’s is a shuttle that will take you from the airport to the train station in a matter of minutes – called PisaMover – and the train to Florence takes only about 45 minutes!
Every time I come back home from any trip, especially when that trip went really well and I’ve absolutely loved it, I find myself emerged in this kind of lethargy. I just sit down, scrolling through my photographs, reviving these moments I just lived. I think about what I have seen and experienced, and even though I only arrived a few days ago, it always looks like a dream. Like a parallel reality, or something that has happened light years ago.
From time to time I find myself struggling to deal with the different callings I feel coming from my mind and heart. One of the things I find hard to deal with is my intense need to live in the middle of chaos, almost as if attracted to it, opposed to my eagerness to emerge myself in the wilderness, to listen to the sound of nature, and be smashed by the power of views on which no human hand had a part to play, views that make tears come to my eyes, views that make me feel small and understand how irrelevant we are, mere humans, mere dust in the universe. How insignificant. How little.
People have been talking about wanderlust. It is like a trend, people have been tattooing it and everything. It seems also there is a boom in wanderlusters. This people that entitle themselves as “backpackers”, “adventurers”, “globetrotters”. All these titles as an hashtag, of course. So the world can see and feel the lust for wander inside.