I went to Budapest some time ago. It was my fourth trip in as many consecutive weekends – weekends that should have been spent on my thesis instead of traipsing around Europe, or, according to my Erasmus friends, spent in house parties playing drinking games in Spanish. On the 7-hour bus ride I napped and bookmarked places I wanted to see in the city, planning for another action-packed weekend full of re-discovering places I had visited seven years earlier with my family.
The bad times started with the announcement of a non-chronological timeline, and oh boy, they just did not stop coming. Some of my friends had already started complaining that the foremost purpose of Instagram had been lost a long time ago: meaning that at the beginning of time, when Instagram was new and shiny and ready to topple over the social monopoly of Facebook, it served as a platform for people to share what they were doing at the moment. The early days of Instagram were fueled by grainy shots of lunches and sunsets, enhanced (or more often not) by a variety of artsy filters. Then the influencers took over. The Instaphere started filling up with beautiful photography. Curated feeds, high resolution images and surreally beautiful landscapes had come to stay.
I need to confess something. I am in love.
Not with a person or an idea of one; but with the road that lies at my feet. It whispers sweet secrets into my ears, keeping my eyes open at night, making my bones ache for another ground to lie on. Promises of grand adventures seduce me, and I leave the bed I have made with my lover. The road calls me, and I must go.
How would you feel about spending your holiday exploring something dark, twisted and macabre?
There is a questions that keeps pestering me as I travel on.
Is it worth it? as I am blowing my paycheck on a flight deal and hoping I will have enough shifts at work before the trip to put together some spending money, too.
Is it worth it? as I am riding the blue bus to the Rio airport, eyelids heavy from crying all night, on my own this time.
Is it worth it? as I am standing alone in the corner of the bar and the blonde girl from Manchester I was talking to earlier is nowhere to be seen but she is here with three friends who don’t seem to like me and I am knee-deep in my third caipirinha and I can’t even remember her name anymore, anyway. more “Is It Worth It?”