Szaszłyk Stall, Rynek Glowny (From Top to Bottom)
In the flurry of travel - waking up in the wee hours to catch that first train, spending hours after hours planning, staying overnight in the airport because there was no way around it, walking till all our legs were sore just to make sure we've seen everything we needed to see - sometimes I start to forget why I'm travelling in the first place. Even if cash wasn't a factor, places started to look the same, and I started to get this faint realization that many of these "places of interest" I'm spending time and money to witness were really created by enthusiastic Tourism Boards eager to promote anything they discovered had the slightest marketing potential. There were times when I found myself thinking aloud, "Really? Did I come half way across the globe just to see this?"
At times, it got slightly depressing, even, rushing from place to place, half wondering if I could be falling under the clichéd group of people who were travelling just to say that they've been to places. It just wasn't what I had intended. I know it's almost taboo to be speaking this way about travelling. The moment travels are mentioned, images that are conjured up are completely opposite, and there seems to be a silent pledge to uphold all the positiveness about the subject. The fact that travelling is supposed to be amazing becomes almost pressurizing. And I'm pretty sure a lot of people out there mask their travel fatigue in accordance with the silence pledge. I'm definitely guilty. The reason I'm saying all these is because I really don't want everybody to get this false impression that travelling is always amazing, because I know just how disappointing it will be when you find out for yourself that is isn't always a bed of roses. It can be amazing, but only if you know what you want out of it. And even then it isn't enough. You have to be prepared to be disappointed.
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