Too much travel?
This morning, as I packed my bags for the fourth longest flight in the world, a surprising thought crossed my mind: I’d rather stay home.
Not exactly the kind of sentiment I would’ve expected from younger me—the one who idolized perpetual motion and saw airports as portals to freedom. Back then, the dream was to travel indefinitely. Before digital nomads were a thing, I already wanted to be one.
But now? I crave stillness. And for the first time, I think I’ve discovered my travel limit.
It’s not that I’ve stopped enjoying travel entirely (although that was a genuine worry I had for a hot minute). It’s just that the way I enjoy it has changed. I used to get a thrill from hopping cities, chasing time zones, and mentally high-fiving myself every time I added another stamp to the passport. These days, I feel every hour of jet lag. My sleep gets weird. I get sick more often. What used to be “minor inconveniences” are now very loud, very opinionated party guests who refuse to leave.
And yet, here’s the twist that softened the melancholy: I realized that back then, travel represented freedom—an escape from routines I didn’t love, a way to remind myself that life could be bigger and wilder than the 9-to-5 I was stuck in.
Now? I like my routines. I like my life. I like coming home. I’ve even caught myself experiencing… the opposite of holiday blues? (Holiday greens?)
And as I sat reflecting on all this during the first leg of the flight, I realized this isn’t just about travel. I think most of us have something we once adored that now has a different shape. Sports, food, hobbies, relationships—what once lit us up might now feel distant or even exhausting.
For a while, I took that as a sign of becoming cynical, or worse—old. But maybe it’s just… normal. Natural. Healthy, even.
Like with books: if you love reading, you don’t read the same story forever. Maybe you move from quick, glossy magazines to a novel you can sink into. Maybe you used to live for epic sagas but now prefer short stories that leave space between the lines. The love of reading doesn’t go away—it just finds new forms.
So no, I haven’t fallen out of love with travel. I’ve just stopped speed-dating countries. These days, I’d rather settle in, get to know one place slowly, and maybe even learn how the locals take their tea.
This trip, ironically, is going to be one of the fast-paced ones—lots of jumping around, not much time to pause. And it’s made me even more aware of how my desires have shifted.
But that’s the gift of discomfort, isn’t it? It shows us where we’ve changed…
Or maybe it’s just that I miss my cats when I travel?
