The travel bug is a serious condition. Symptoms: incessant pangs of wanting to be somewhere else, waves of sadness at not being aforementioned ‘somewhere else’, an almost erratic habit of looking at ex-travel photographs, verbal diarrhea whenever a subject of travel has come to light… the list goes on.
And the cure? Well, for many there isn’t one. It doesn’t exist. It is unconquerable, incurable, undefeatable. For others that 6 weeks of mandatory pre/post education interrailing, or the East coast of Australia, Camp America or South East Asia hits the spot. The bug has been treated – or never really caught – and ‘real life’ awaits. A job, a house, a relationship, a dog, and that annual two week holiday. But what do you do if those 6 weeks were never going to be enough, and only worked to aggravate the worlds most mythical medical condition after man flu?
Of course a nomadic lifestyle isn’t for everyone, but once you’re hooked, you’re hooked. The 9-5 stability of the accepted ‘reality’of adult life just doesn’t cut it. The travel bug creates an irrepressible feeling inside you. Every moment of not being on the road starts to feel like a lifetime. Every photograph of a place that isn’t where you are now sparks envy and an insatiable desire to be there, be anywhere, but be there. As soon as one foot is firmly back on the road, the feeling immediately dissipates to be replaced with a continuous and unmovable feeling of pure content that nothing can really get in the way of. For me at least, even the longest, sweatiest, most frustratingly Spanish speaking bus journey from Costa Rica to Honduras was a content one. Maybe not a pleasant one, but a content one nonetheless.
This frustrating state in between is where I currently find myself. Despite being fired from one job, I now have another in the same French resort, and am free to continue with my 5 month ski holiday of sorts. But even though I’m in a different country and one of the most naturally beautiful places I’ve ever been in my life, I can feel my feet starting to itch. I’ve been here for nearly three months, and my symptoms are returning. But what is there to be done? For loss of words, it’s safe to say I’m infected. With two full months left of the season there’s nothing for it but to make the most of my time here whilst furiously making plans for the next big adventure… because that’s all that can be done, right?