This is not a guide to holiday destinations.
I honestly can’t remember the last time I went on holiday, because, generally speaking, going on holiday means cramming the greatest amount of memorable/hedonistic activities in the smallest amount of time, in a way which is compatible with having to then go back to a life based on a monday to friday (and 9to5) routine.
No. I have almost all the time in the world, because my job comes with me everywhere I go and I can simply live my life in a totally “smeared around the world” fashion. I can therefore experience things slowly and with very little fear of missing out. So what I am going to give you is a very personal, honest, sometimes gritty, recount of what it felt like to walk in the streets of the places I visited. In that particular moment of my life, I should add.
I think everybody should be very aware of the fact that countless factors decide the enjoyment that we might gain from a journey, and that the same person could visit the same place in the space of a few months and live a startlingly different experience. All it takes is meeting another traveller who’s especially pleasant along the way, or having to work on something very gratifying and being able to experience the empowerment that comes with it. Or getting laid. So I have no expectations of giving relatable reports about my travels, and I am honestly doing this more for myself than for my readers. Nevertheless, I think it helps to know who I am and what I usually look for, even if only to decide to skip these pages altogether.
I am a self-employed working in the field of photography. I make a living photoshopping other photographers’ work, and at the same time I take half a ton of pictures myself, as you’re probably finding out.
I am not particularly extroverted, I almost don’t drink, don’t smoke, and more than fifteen years have passed since I finished experimenting with drugs. But I crave watching people, and smelling the air of a place much more than visiting museums with an audio guide firmly in my left hand. I am not particularly interested in nightlife, meaningless conversations, drunk sex. At the same time, it’s worth mentioning that I am a single, healthy, heterosexual male, and not hypocritical enough to pretend that the way I can interact with women in the places I visit doesn’t affect the way I form an opinion about said places.Canggu, Bali, Indonesia
I recently got addicted to surfing, to the point that I can’t fully appreciate a Country I visit if there’s no surfing opportunity for me there. It might sound extreme, but I just can’t un-see the positive health effects that doing this activity gives me. I am still a beginner (the learning curve is unbelievably long) but that doesn’t take away from the enjoyment in the slightest. More about that in a post on its own.
Ericeira, Portugal (no, I don’t surf this stuff)
Also, I am italian. That doesn’t make me a conservative fussy eater like many italians are (I have happily eaten scorpions, and more types of offal than anybody would like to admit) but it allows me to call bullshit on food which is bland, pretentious, boring, or improvised.
Last but not least, I almost always travel alone. This creates an healthy alternance of contemplative self introspection and desire to get social and go speak with the stranger sitting one table away from me at the cafè.