I'm not in the process of organizing this year's vacation and hopefully, if everything goes according to plan, we'll actually fly to a European capital. The past week, while I was surfing the internet for hotels and plane tickets, I caught myself thinking: "I just need to see this city and then I'll die happy. I won't need to go anywhere else, ever again. I'll be content staying at home and going on vacation to nearby places. Just this one last trip. I swear."
I'm reluctant to believe this sensation because, guess what? I'd had it in 2009 when I visited Australia, too. I thought I'd seen everything I wanted to see. My travel days are over now that I saw Australia, I thought. That lasted for about a year. Then I started getting restless to the point of slowly slipping into a very morose, hopeless state that I've been in for the past few months. And now, just the thought of planning a trip has gotten me into a better mood.
I've lived in the countryside for most of my life. But in my heart, I'm a city girl. One would think this an odd combination, but it's not. I live in a gorgeous spot, with the most amazing nature and landscapes. From my hometown, you can reach the Alps, the flatlands of the eastern part of the country or the seaside with a two-hour drive maximum. It's the best place to live. Almost all my food is homegrown, organic, eco, what have you. That is why my rational side knows to appreciate the place where I live. I'm not sure I'd want to move somewhere else. But there's a part of my heart that needs a regular fix of the city life. The anonymity of it, the smell of airports, the abundance of cafes and having everything at the tip of one's fingers.
Returning home after a trip like that is nice. Not melancholic at all, because I want to return home. But I also want to travel because I want to see and feel places, and incidentally that also makes me appreciate home that much more.