The Wander Lust Gene

As much as I hate admitting it, every day I am becoming more and more like my mother and out of all the qualities I could have inherited from her, I got the most terrible one – the wanderlust gene. She’s probably the most travelled person I know. Leaving Mauritius as soon as she could, she travelled through and lived in the Middle East and only agreed to settle down in Mauritius when my father proposed. My father (and later I) became her rock, her only reason to be held down in one place. Even then, it took her a few years to adjust to married life and mother hood, travelling through South East Asia during that time.  As the years went by, the travels were less frequent. Until I was old enough to understand and experience those new places and cultures with her. And then I became old enough to experience it all on my own.

Exactly four years ago, I moved to London to pursue my Bachelor degree in Geography and that’s where it all started for me. During that time, I’ve jumped from east to west over the Greenwich Meridian Time, watched the Bastille Day fireworks at the foot of the Eiffel tower, drunk an unquantifiable amount of mint tea in Morocco and even took a trip to heaven eating the best gelato ever in Florence, amongst others. Less than a year ago I moved back to Mauritius and realised that my home country had more to offer than I ever thought. As I look back on these past seven months, I now understand that I could never have appreciated the time I spent here if I had not left to begin with.

Now, my itchy feet are once again restless and I’m about to embark on yet another journey. In less than three weeks, I’ll be in Ankara, Turkey to study for a masters degree in, surprise surprise, Geography! And I plan to continue moving around, maybe until I’ve found my own rock.


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