What is the purpose of a travelblog?
Is it to guide you?
To tell you in which hotel you should sleep? Which food you should eat? On which beach you should lie?
Is it to entertain you?
Let you delve into new places and experiences? The description of how street food in Saigon smells? How it feels watching the sunset above the roofs of Bangkok, a red cocktail in your hand?
Or is it to inspire you?
Inspire you to break out? Inspire you to quit you job your house your dog and your plants, and set off to these places.
The guarantee that you’ll be happy with this cocktail in your hand, above the roofs of Bangkok.
What is this all about?
Facing the truth, all you read in a blog, find in a travel guide, hear from other travellers – they are just one thing, and not more than that: there are POSSIBILITIES.
Will you party in Seminyak with nice guys you met in your hostel? Will you dance with an irish guy in a completely empty pub on Koh Lanta? Will you get food poisoning from street food in Beijing? Will you meet the love of your life on Boracay? Will you love the taste of hazelnut vodka you’ll try in Krakow.
Maybe you will. Maybe you will not.
…you will kiss under thousand stars in Thailand,
…you will be robbed in Manila by a taxi driver
…you will laugh so hard with new friends that you’ll fall off the chair in Jakarta
…you will sleep in the most comfortable bed of your life in Sapa
…you will meet your future best friend in Angkor Wat
…you will get seasick in Halong Bay, but not from the waves
…you will explore the magic of Abu Simbel at sunset
…you will party best ever in Kathmandu
…and find out what you want to do for the rest of your life.
The earth has music for those who listen.
The truth is: There are these moments. These moments which count. When you are touched. Deeply.
By laughter, love, pain, inspiration.
They are so fuckin awesome that you just LIVE them. Live them to the fullest.
And what you may share later…it’s just a pale memory, so pale that no-one can ever feel the gentle touch which you still and forever will feel inside you. Because these moments are not meant for someone else to understand them. They are meant for you alone.
Writing is the nice try to pass on what touched you deeply. Writing about places and adventures is trying to pass on a powerful dream. You try to explain that there are so much possibilities.
So many places where you can be happy.
So many situations that take your breath away.
Adventures when you must be brave.
Beaches where you should smoke weed and have a bonfire.
Cities where you should dance your ass off in a fancy club.
Powerful magic places where you’ll find the answer.
Somewhere along the way…
When I quitted all fancy stuff I owned and which my life had been about, I booked a one way ticket to the sea and to the sun. I read no blog or book which told me that this is the right way to live, or inspire me that mountain >blabla> is the right to climb on.
But once I took the decision to go…they whispered interesting things to me. They told me about gorgeous beaches, fast boats, safety issues and where you can get good coffee.’
Possibilities came up in my mind. I could do so much.
I could see incredible things. I could have sex, love, cry and laugh. I could meet people who would change my life. I could find my real home. And of course…good coffee.
No. You can’t really share these moments.
You can’t give guarantees or suggest others that magic is going to happen.
Which places they should go and which are not worth seeing.
Some moments are nice, some are nicer, some are even worth writing about.” Charles Bukowski
I’m sitting at the shore of the Vistula river. The sun is shining on a bright blue sky, I just walked down from the castle to lie here in the sun-warmed grass and watch the picturesque scenery in front of me.
Then all of a sudden, a swarm of swans forms up on the river. I have never seen so many of them in one place, and I hit the ground to watch them. I don’t know much about animals in general and nothing about swans, and I wonder what will happen next. But – nothing. They are just paddling around each other. No big deal.
And then they take off.
It looks absolutely majestic when about 20 swans spread their wings and beginn their flight along the river. They fly like in slow motion. The swarm passes me, still flying very slowly, and it looks like they are just floating through the air.
And then they disappear out of sight. On this brightest day of october in Krakow.