Travelling

I love travelling.

I mean, I love the physical act of travelling.

Well, I get scared on planes and nauseous on buses, and on trains I’m always anxious that someone is going to take my seat even though I’ve pre-booked it.

Still, I find the overall experience very relaxing.

I like that I’m doing something while doing nothing. It feels productive, and it’s the only time I don’t feel guilty about not doing things – because I’m already doing it. I’m travelling.

It’s the best time to read a book, or take a nap, or just chill out without worrying about things you should be doing like laundry or study or exercise. You’re already being pro-active just by going from A to B.

People say “it’s about the journey, not the destination” and I’m inclined to agree. Not in the spiritual, emotional way that is implied on throw pillows and postcards, but in a literal way. Journeys are great, especially when you have a window seat.

I always enjoy a lazy day off. It can mean getting up at noon and watching Drop Dead Diva for hours on end before taking a bath, ordering a pizza and getting back into bed. An entire day spent doing absolutely nothing. But then afterwards I feel incredibly guilty for wasting my day. I don’t know why I have this constant anxiety about not being productive. I suspect it’s left over from the Leaving Cert.

But when I’m travelling, I can be completely idle while the train/bus/plane does my work for me.

This is mad, isn’t it?

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