Why travel?

This is a little snippet of a book I just read, The Bone Man of Benares, by Terry Tarnoff. “What is travel? Why am I doing this, month after month, year after year, why am I taking broken-down lorries through the plains of Africa, decommissioned DC-3s over uncharted waters, wayward ships across the Indian Ocean, ancient trains into the baking desert, suicidal buses over the Himalayas? Why am I living in vans, caves, collapsing shambas, spider-infested cabanas, and freezing guest houses? Because travel is putting yourself in impossible situations to find out who you are. And everybody you meet along the way, whether you know it or not, is doing exactly the same thing. That’s why people meet so easily on the road. Deep down we’re all after some answer and we figure maybe, just maybe someone might be able to find it. Getting to an exotic destination is only part of it – the struggle of getting there is just as important. All over the world, people are making pilgrimages by foot and bus and train to places that are holy to them, places that might shed some light. It might be a palace in Versailles or an acropolis in Athens or a mosque in Lamu or a ganja field in Manali, but that’s what we’re all doing, we’re all trying to connect to something sacred. When I first arrived in Europe, I always knew exactly how many days I’d been away, how many countries I’d been to, and how many entries I had in my passport. Now I was beginning to realize that I’d been completely missing the point. Travel has nothing to do with time and, in fact, not much to do with place. Travel is about discovering something within.” This paragraph or two jumped out at me when I first read it and smacked me in the face, literally. This awesome account of Mr. Tarnoffs global travel during the 1970s became one of my favorite books and an inspiration for my travels. Check it out at your local library, literally.