![Copenhagen canal](https://s3.amazonaws.com/aphs.worldnomads.com/aeileenr/48109/photo_1.jpg)
Growing up, it didn’t take long for me to become consumed with the idea of travel. I remember declaring to my mother at an early age that I wasn’t interested in living in the United States because there were so many other countries to see. Why would I want to stick around in just one? I suppose a small part of me still believes that. It’s not that I don’t love California (because I do). The world is a gigantic place with millions of little cafés, corners, alleys, streets, and people who were all raised differently than me. I want to see it. I want to see it all. I never intend to replace the feeling of home, because I do think it’s important to have a home, even in an abstract sense. But before my time on this earth is over, you’d better believe that I will see and do as much as I possibly can.
Now that I’ve had some time to let everything sink in and gain some perspective on the whole trip, I think I’ve come to realize that travel means something different to everyone. No one person has the same experience while traveling; two people could go to the same places and do the exact same things, and still come out of it at the end with entirely different notions on their experiences. There is no guidebook-fits-all. Which is good, I think, because in order to form your own opinion about something, it really must be lived out in person. And being an aspiring travel writer, that really is the key: to inspire people to go out and have their own experiences.
As I sit in my apartment writing this blog post, I yearn for an Italian cappuccino, or the cobblestone streets of London. I miss the street art in Berlin, the Venetian canals, and the Florentine gelato. I miss everything about Copenhagen (seriously, my favorite city, ever, and I only spent two days there.) But I feel fuller, and more rounded, if that makes sense. I feel content with my place in the world. I feel stronger, mentally and emotionally. I know how I travel, and why I travel: because I don’t feel content learning about the world from a book. I need to see, explore, eat, sleep and be present in a place. I want to know a place much more than what I can read in a travel book or magazine. I want to forge these paths for others. That is why I travel. That is why I write. I want to share these experiences with others. And I know that I always will.