The way I’ve travelled has evolved over the years. In the beginning, when I first strapped my backpack to my back and took off around Europe, I moved quickly, barely getting to know one city before hopping on a train to the next. While sometimes that is the most efficient way to see a lot in a short period of time, I don’t like to travel that way anymore. I prefer, at the minimum, a few days in each place, and to visit at least a few places per country. Of course, it doesn’t always work out that way – I recently only had time for four days in Italy, for example – but, in an ideal world, I would be able to travel slowly. Over the years of adapting a slower style of travelling, then, there have been a few places that have just completely captivated me, or, perhaps, captured me.
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We finally had our tickets in hand and entered the theatre through the front doors in time for the 7:30pm performance. There is nothing like the buzz in the air before a great show, of spectators finding their seats, of that magic that occurs when the lights dim and a hush falls over the crowd. Kasha and I certainly weren’t disappointed with our seats as we were front row centre. And then, the music started, the curtain lifted…
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We met on a sweaty night in the middle of Hanoi, high up on a balcony full of backpackers. In the middle of the balcony was an old bathtub full of ice; staff members from the bar kept refilling it with bottles of beer, trying to keep up with the raucous crowd. For some inexplicable reason, everyone was wearing pink sombreros, and the place was filled with kids barely old enough to drink, sunburnt, be-hatted, throwing their heads back in drunken laughter. And then: I saw you.
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The stigma of blogging has definitely subsided over the last decade, as so many people are online in some way, whether through blogging or social media. What used to be a strange phenomenon – writing and posting on the Internet for a bunch of strangers to read – is now quite common, and, in some cases, expected (for a business or magazine, for example). But I also realise that I feel differently about blogging than most, because my entire life is about blogging or writing in some way. Not everyone feels the same way that I do.
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How quickly a place can feel like a home. I’ve been thinking about that a lot these days, especially as I’ve now lived in London for nine months, and I can’t imagine living anywhere else. I remember, years ago, reading the book Zeitoun by Dave Eggers while lying under a mosquito net in Thailand; in it, Zeitoun speaks of his travelling past, and that he knew he’d always settle down somewhere if he either found a woman he loved or a port that he loved. While I won’t speak on the former at the moment, I can certainly speak for the latter. I love London.
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What I always go back to, though, time and time again, is travel writing. This makes a lot of sense, for very obvious reasons. Besides a personal interest in travel writing, I read it in order to become better at both my job (writing) and my degree (writing), as well as brush up on my favourite hobby (coin collecting. Hah! Just kidding. It’s writing). I certainly haven’t read every travel writer out there, and often disagree with those who are meant to be some of the best; I’m not a fan of Bruce Chatwin or Bill Bryson, for example.
Here, then, are some of my recommendations for the best travel books. Read them at home, read them on holiday, read them to feel inspired, read them to reminisce. Just read them.