Perhaps it is due to having had the opportunity for extensive travel when I was younger, but I simply love traveling. It's wonderful to see new places and explore other cultures. And especially in Europe, there is also the joy of meeting with friends I seldom get to see.
It's kind of funny, the way I feel about travel. On the one hand, I am an introverted homebody who loves the comfort of my own house as much as a hobbit does. On the other hand, I crave to see more of the world, to explore ancient history, to see varied wildlife and unfamiliar terrain.
In English, we call this "wanderlust." The term implies that one constantly has a great desire to travel, which isn't really an accurate description my emotion. I much prefer the German word, "Fernweh." It literally means an ache for far-away places, not just wanting to travel, but wanting it so much that it hurts—which is exactly how I feel.
I don't have a restless itch to always be away from home. I wouldn't call this feeling merely a desire; it's more of an ache, that, like a backache, comes and goes in waves. Most of the time, I am perfectly content at home, not wishing to leave at all.
And then, suddenly, it strikes.
Sometimes, I ache to see Germany. I love the cobblestone pedestrian zones that are filled with bookstores and coffeeshops. I miss my friends who live there. Oh, to see the grand cathedrals and just be in these buildings that have stood for longer than my country has existed! In this case, I feel the pain of being far away from a beloved place. All I want is to leave home and retread these familiar paths.
Other times, I lose myself in dreams of lands I've never seen. Costa Rica, which crams in an incredible amount of biodiversity in a country the the size of a postage stamp, has long been one the top places I would like to visit. I want to go to New Zealand and see the beautiful landscapes with my own eyes.
At some point, however, my practical side rudely drags the rest of me back to earth. The dreams fade a bit as I realize this or that thing is not likely to happen in the near future, for one reason or another. The best time to go to one place might be while I'm in school, or maybe a certain trip would cost way too much for me to even consider doing until after I retire.
So, here I am: a homebody aching to travel, a pragmatic dreamer with my head in the clouds and my feet still firmly on the ground. It's a weird experience, for sure.
I like being settled at home. I like all of the familiar comforts and people and foods. Yet, the pangs drawing me toward far-off places are always bound to return at some point in time. I can practically feel an ache building up in my chest whenever the Fernweh hits me.
Well, that's just how it is. As I said before, I am generally content in my cozy home bubble, so it isn't wanderlust. I miss the places I've visited before, and crave to explore new locations, so much so that it's almost a physical pain—it's Fernweh.
