I love travelling. And as much it includes visiting places, it also means the process of getting there. And to tell the truth, I enjoy that phase probabl the most. Sitting in the train, looking out of the window on the passing trees and villages. Or watching a movie in the bus while wondering where other cars are heading. And then, feeling the plane taking off and trying to figure over which country are we flying from the rivers and towns below.
The excitement of what might be waiting on me, the uncertainty about how will the journey end, whether it will be the best trip of my life. Some people hate this feeling, I find it the best part of my travels. Sometimes, I even wish the journey itself would never end. That we would be driving or flying endlessly always with something new ahead of us.
Eventually, I started to feel this way even if I am taking just a regular bus or train drive, especially at night. I know I have taken this route many times before and I know exactly what is expecting me at the end. Yet, I still feel the excitement and feel my heart beating faster. After all, if not me, than surely someone in the my bus is taking the trip of his life. Someone is coming home to see his family after a long time or heading for a new job, vacation or visiting friends. And while I am wondering where is the older couple speaking Polish or the girl constantly on her phone going, I too feel through them the constant excitement of going somewhere.