Adjusting to a Slower Pace One of my earliest memories is in an airport and trying new foods in places far away from my home. It would be more than fair to say that I had a childhood full of privilege when it came to travelling. My parents worked hard to be able to afford to take their family abroad, and as a result I have taken on their love for travelling. Every penny I have saved from my first job at the age of 16 has typically gone to travelling somewhere new and exciting. My countdown app was always pinging my phone, counting down the days to the next trip and now it sits there untouched. Lockdown taught me a lot of things, but one thing I did not see coming was the love I truly have for the country I am from. We actually took Staycations every summer growing up which I have fond memories from. Just for context a Staycation is where you take a holiday, or if you are American a vacation, to somewhere within your own country or even create a holiday experience within your own home. However, for some reason as soon as I hit 18, I grabbed my passport and my bags and was off. Ever since then, I have taken any and all opportunities to travel. Italy
to visit a friend for reading week? Yes please. Ten-hour layover in Paris on the way home from living in Canada? What an opportunity. One week of solo travelling in Copenhagen for my birthday? What a dream. As much as I love travelling and can’t wait to do it again, I have come to realise that perhaps it is not the be all and end all that I used to believe it was. Throughout lockdown, I found myself not just adjusting but enjoying a slower pace of life. Living life slowly and focusing on the present has always been something I have struggled with. I used to think I thrived off of being constantly busy, especially when travelling and then not understand why I was burnt out. When you travel somewhere completely different to where you are from there is a lot to process. Whether that is the culture, the language, the food or even just the different water and air. It can take its toll on our bodies. As someone known for going hard or going home, I tended to jam pack my schedule full of things to do in this new place. Trying to cram as much into whatever days I had. My solo trip to New York resulted in me leaving my hotel room at 6am and not returning until 10pm. As a postgraduate teaching student, I have yet to be in a position where I can travel without budgeting intensely. Most of my trips consist of hostels, pot noodles and whatever
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