In this, my 100th post here on Twenty First Century Nomad, I felt it time to address as to why, in fact, I am nomadic.
It’s been nineteen and a half years since I first set foot on Bali, which means it’s been nineteen and a half years since I first discovered I was nomadic. To arrive in Bali, especially as a young naive kid from small-town England, was to discover that another world existed beyond the grey, mediocre life I’d inhabited for so long.
Back then, Bali was as green as it was exotic. It was as mysterious as it was magical. And to me, it was as alien to be there as it was natural. Everything was different, but in good ways. The people were different, as was the food; patient and smiling, spicy and delicious. The weather was different, as was the scenery; warm and enticing, wild and majestic. The culture was different, as was the lifestyle; gentle and respectful, relaxed and intoxicating. Architecture, traditions, customs, beaches…everything was amazing. I fell in love with Bali, and at the same time, I fell in love with traveling.
That was 1994. And guess what? Bali is still beautiful and it is still magical. The people and the weather are as warm and friendly as ever, and on this, my 5th visit, it remains one of my all time favorite places on Earth. Importantly for me, twenty years on, as Bali is still very special, I am still very nomadic, albeit a Twenty Fist Century version.
For me, Bali is where it all began, and from Bali it will all continue, along with Leslie, all the way to Paris.
Where and when did you fall in love with traveling? I’d love to hear about it in the comments below.
All images by The Nomad, Steven Moore