Growing up, I’ve always had a rock solid plan of how I wanted my life to be – finish school, find a job, make lots of money, fall in love, have a house and have a family. All of these before I turned 30. Little did I know that life was going to throw me a huge curve ball that would derail me off this marvelous roadmap. A curve ball called Wanderlust.
My parents have always taught me the value of traveling and how it is one of the best educators in life. And so I did exactly that. I traveled. A lot. Now at 30, I am nowhere near my previous goals of settling down abound white picket fences and spawning mini-me’s into this world. I am seriously running out of time if I still wanted to make it to the finished line because I haven’t even started yet.
There was simply too much to see and too little time. Many people have tsk-tsked on my deliberate choice of “delaying life” in order to travel. Left and right, my peers were getting hitched, acquiring mortgages and popping babies. They were all busy growing up.
However, I was doing my own version of growing up. Traveling during my youth made all the difference. It helped me find myself; learned about my strengths and weaknesses. It pushed me outside of my bounds and it humbled me to realize the greatness of this world. I met a lot of people that contributed to the formation of my views. It opened my curious eyes and it altered my narrow perspectives. It broke me then it made me – and then I came out a better person.
And when I decide to settle down and do all those grown up things, I know I will be ready because I am armed with the wisdom that I’ve picked up along the way.
In the meantime, I still dream of skiing down that winter dome in Dubai. And climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro with sturdy knees. And dancing the flamenco in front of the Redentor in South America. And taking beautiful shots of the Aurora Borealis in Scandinavia. And taking exhaustive camel rides down the Sahara. And feeling the Arctic glaciers against the palm of my hands. And partying like a rock star beneath the full moons of the Orient.
Do I really want to wait until I’m 60 to experience all of those?
Go ahead. Roam the world.