This morning, I realised I hate travelling.
These days travelling connotes a desperation to showoff. And in spite of my insta feeds and stories I find something in the whole endeavour pretty nauseating and narcissistic. No I don’t like to travel.
I simply want to taste the world.
This is Meteora. Meteora, the ancient monasteries built upon impossible, titanic outcrops of stone. Meteora, where pilgrims and tourists alike come to marvel at what faith and love and patience and commitment can inspire.
Because I was impatient and tight on cash, and just a drop of mystical, I decided it would perhaps be quite the adventure and the “pilgrimmage” to walk the ~4km up winding roads with a full backpack to marvel at these amazing monasteries. To struggle up, slowly and patiently, with a blistering sun slowly rising at one’s back – that was quite the experience. I was so happy after about two hours’ climb to be greeted excitedly by a pair of doggies kept by one of the monasteries (!) And then to have walked down alone later too – at one point having to hastily pull out a raincoat because of a freak shower – that later gave way to this stunning blue sky… That descent in a summer air ringing with the violent silence of a thousand cicadas, with only these stone colossi as company felt like a nice walk with the universe. That choice not to take the bus, but to taste the road with my feet instead: that is how I want to voyage.
I like YOUR likes on my insta. But really, the exhilaration of the open road is the thrill of being able to cut it all on your own. To behold from below a monastery set primly upon a precipice, in the crisping quiet of a hot blue summer sky.
To see a World in a Grain of Sand And a Heaven in a Wild Flower, Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand And Eternity in an hour. | William Blake, Auguries of Innocence
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