Being a nomad isn’t always easy. The word wanderlust, with or without hashtag, is used extensively on social media to reflect two-week trips and brief moments of fun. But real wanderlust is way more than that. It hurts. Time passes, restlessness rises and staying home isn’t an option anymore. Another ticket has to be booked.
Our friends are saving money for a house, a garden, and a child, asking us when we will ever settle down. Meanwhile, we are getting a tattoo in Japan, enjoying some samosa in India or driving through South-American mountains on a rickety bus.
We are the outcasts, the dreamers of improbable dreams, adventurers who are constantly looking for something, even though we don’t know what. We have a different perspective on life and took a different turn, preferably off the beaten track. It’s a burden and at the same time a blessing that we have to carry with us. Because we are, and will always be (even though sometimes we wish we weren’t), the nomads.