When did it happen? One minute I am a carefree twenty-five year old with my whole travelling life ahead of me: the next, I've arrived at my mid-thirties. And the question that I regularly ask myself is:
Am I too old to travel? My friends are all settling down, have children, mortgages and responsibilities.
Me? It's now more than a year since I left my marital home, my ex-husband and my job and I've been back and forth at my parent's house since. I'm now 37 with no place to call my own, no ‘proper' job (according to some, who don't see freelancing as a real job), and with only a gorgeous little sports car and a collection of shot glasses to my name.
Am I kidding myself?
Am I trying to hold onto my youth by still partying (admittedly not as much), travelling and cutting myself from any responsibilities in life? Can I really compete with the younger travellers in their twenties and share a dorm with constant party animals or am I just roaming around the world looking for somewhere to really call my home?
Travel makes me happy, planning my next trip fills me with an excitement that I don't get from looking at new cars or furniture for a house. But I know I'm in the minority.
Living a nomadic lifestyle is just not what society class as ‘normal.' It's expected from a gap year student or a person in their twenties, but when you're approaching the big 40, is it still acceptable?
I'm now choosing destinations where ‘maturer' travellers go, I'm swaying towards a hotel room for a night instead of residing in a hostel and I can't travel anywhere without my anti-wrinkle eye cream!
Wanderlust is in my blood, it always has been and I know it probably will be. But can I really live like this forever?
So it begs the big question: Is there really an age to stop travelling?