Travel?blog

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What is travelling, and what is not?
Just because I don't pack my clothes into a bag and find a new bed each night, does that mean that I am not a traveller?

I choose to oppose that framework, and to say that even the static person can still be the traveller, there still are thousands of personally untouched terrain to tread. There still are thousands of unshook hands to shake in this town.

OK, maybe I'm wrong.

That's why I decided to get OUT of this town when I finished my winter quarter finals last week. 2 maths and 1 stats = suicide. It's a scientific fact!!

Goodbye rainy northern california (don't get me wrong, I know she will blossom into a beautiful mistress), hello southern california. I'm not talking hollywood stars, and breast enhancement, no. There's NO way I'd spend my precious school-break there in the delusional disneyland part of the world where everyone dreams of being bigger and badass-er than themselves, where no one appreciates themselves for them-simple-selves. I'm talking the barren desert part of southern california. The place that turns partial and fictitious men into whole and real men. Only a dry and waterless horizon of rocks and cacti can convince a man invincible.

So to the rocks of Joshua Tree National Park I went, on my personal vision quest, to search for the inner Gadi. Sure enough, I only found some cacti and some rocks.

Maybe my inner self is a spiky, succulent, leafless, water hording plant??

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