“Traveling – it leaves you speechless, then turns you into a storyteller.” – Ibn Battuta
Traveling has always been cathartic to me. It is my way of escapism from the real word that exists around me, to a world that is out there waiting for my footsteps.
My fascination for the old started after seeing the antique furniture and other collectibles in my maternal grandparents’ house. The smell of something old, the beauty in their form and structure attracts me more than the wild nature. My travelogue usually reflects that very personality – where I get to view old architecture, the details, the crumbling ruins, the stories that echoes in the wall.
I am not against nature. In fact there are days when I require the reminder that I am human and I am fallible, and there’s something greater than me that exists out there that will humble me on my best days. Well, I am not justifying my preference here. What I am trying to establish as a fact here is that I love to travel. And that’s what this section will comprise of.
Robert Louis Stevenson stated my heart’s desire in this beautiful line: “For my part, I travel not to go anywhere, but to go. I travel for travel’s sake. The great affair is to move.”