Don’t expect.

[Praha/Prague, Cz, 2016] traveling teaches me the worst side of an expectation. Already, on a daily basis I am battling a lot with expectation and with its extent of perfection. Most of the time, I try to follow what people suggest me, like: “lower your expectation”, “expect nothing”, “nothing to lose”, etc. But how could one live without an expectation, if, to another end of the continum, expectation reflects hope. Everytime I failed, which is quite often, I tended to blame on my “high” expectation, but wait, it was the exact same expectation that has brought me all the way through. It kills. And by traveling, especially to mainstream and famous destinations, it has become a sort of my personal exercise to confront self expectation. Like Praha, or Venice, or Bruges, or even Paris, I often lost my appetite once I got there. I was board to those places by everyone’s expectation embedded to the city, little to no space to explore more, to discover, to get lost, to not knowing where to go, cause I crave for the feeling of not knowing anything when I travel to a place, of discovering, of letting myself go, of being free to go anywhere not based on what the guide books tell us “what to do” “where to go” “what to eat”. Don’t you then feel trapped by them, instead? Travel should entail unexpected random discovery, rather than matching photos with reality. 🌷


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