In the last 26 years I have covered a distance of more than 150,000 km. I have been to India and Brazil, I have visited New York and London, I swam in the Mediterranean Sea and ascended the Mount Vesuvius. But I am far away from being satisfied. The wanderlust has infected me. As being in fibrile delirium, I imagine those places where I still wanna travel to, those ones, which I need to see, for staying my appetite. But probably my hunger will never be perfectly satisfied.
On all my journeys, time has always had a special significance. This was especially aware to me when I was in a rush collecting my stuff together, so that I can still go to the airport on time. And then at the check-in, I realized that I had actually forgotten my toothbrush. But who wants to be a real adventurer, can handle even such a small emergency. Over time, I have also learned how to run successfully after a bus and how to get in a train with two suitcases. Somehow my trips were always stress, positive stress. But I need this regular kick, that thrill that if one engine fails, you could be killed instantly. That a single mosquito could infect me with malaria or I might become a victim of a crime. But this very dangerous, mystical, quirky places attract me in a special way. I want to see what nobody has ever seen before. I want to experience as much as possible, so I can tell my grandchildren of this. I will report them as I was in a train to New Delhi for 27 hours – surrounded by dozens of pairs of eyes staring at me again and again. I will mention my walk on the Copacabana, when I had to say goodbye to my Brazilian. One of the hardest and saddest moment of my whole life. And also a moment as I could realize how much time really matters.
At the beginning of my travels – when I could run successfully after all the taxis, planes and buses – I always feel very relaxed. I know that I have still got many great moments in front of me and also enough time to enjoy them. But this is a great fallacy. For example: As I moved to India, I thought that six months is a really long time. I even thought that I could feel homesick. But this was wrong. I was so busy trying to handle all the new impressions, meeting people and enjoying my life. Time passed by fastly like sand in an hourglass. And suddenly I already had to bid goodbye to my new life. My farewell party was one of the greatest and most painful moments I have ever experienced. Because when I am honest, in India I felt completely understood for the first time. Surrounded by crazy people like me who always look for an adventure and think that 1.000 km are a short distance. Space and time seemed to be completely resolved. It was as if I was weightless gliding through the day. But then, two weeks before my flight, I came back down to earth. It was time to say goodbye and for my return to Germany. I hate this time every time – on all my travels. Not only because a goodbye (“Auf Wiedersehen”) is often just a hollow promise, but also because I dawn on my own limitations. At lastI can go wherever I want, keep my experiences in my mind and look back whenever I want, but I will never be able to fight the power of time. It is a too strong opponent, which I supersede now and then, but I am unable to defeat it.
A vida louca 
I envy you for the changing vicissitudes that you drag on to your horizon all the time! It is the force and frame of habit and familiar environs, situations and scenarios that shackle one’s growth and reinforce the mayanic frameworks that limit us. One needs to lose oneself in newer lands and distant places, to actually find oneself. Of course, all these journeys actually revolve around the most important thing in our lives…Our Self! 🙂
But often we forget ourselves or need to find them first, before realizing our own worths. Cheers and thx for commenting!