I am always planning my next vacation.
You might say it’s how I cope with the grind of everyday life, imagining my next escape. But as I’ve grown older (and maybe a little wiser?),
I’ve come to realize my wanderlust is borne of something rooted much deeper in my history.
I was born in Canada to immigrant parents. My extended family lived in Singapore and as with so many first generation families, it was important that I experienced my culture and my community firsthand. The first 5 years of my life, I lived a nomadic existence, flying back and forth between Toronto and Singapore with my grandmother for months at a time.
By the time I was in elementary school, these visits had morphed into summers spent in Singapore or transcontinental meet ups to vacation with my grandparents somewhere in the middle.
Travel was transformative for me, times of connection and intense self-discovery.
I remember the delight on my grandmothers face the first time we ate takoyaki in Japan. People called us twins and I couldn’t believe she could love something that was so repulsive to me.
In discovering a new place together, I learned more intimately who she was than the many summers spent eating at the dinner table at home.
For a month every year, I would slip into a completely different existence, discovering new smells, tastes and norms, learning what I loved, didn’t love, and how these loves would change as I did. (For the record, I now LOVE takoyaki.) Now twenty something, I am still chasing that travel magic. Lately, that means wellness travel, nature retreats and foodie adventures.
I’m always seeking authentic experiences to help me grow in mind, body and spirit.
What will I discover next?