The Traveler’s Dilemma: When You Fall in Love With a Place

You have big plans to see the world. Then two months into your journey it happens: you find a place you love. A place you don’t want to leave, where you could imagine living forever. For me it was the beaches of El Cotillo, where you drive down a dusty dirt road to the cliffs and peer down on the white sand beach below and the green-blue waters beyond. It’s the Atlantic ocean, but looks more like the Caribbean or Pacific. The black volcanic rocks form dramatic sea walls protecting 200 meters of private beach, where a dozen or so European vacationers silently sunbathe. The water is cold, even in the first week of September, but it’s a refreshing chill that you quickly learn to appreciate. I spent the last week in Fuerteventura, in the Canary Islands, and I didn’t want to leave.

Fuerteventura is my perfect storm: it has beautiful beaches, it’s Spanish, there are very rural undeveloped areas, there is enough infrastructure that I can still find groceries and supplies, it’s cheap, they’re open to foreigners, there is a low crime rate and I quickly made friends. I pictured my life here: living in a small beach house, overlooking the ocean and the neighboring islands. Waking in the morning for some yoga on the beach and a quick swim. A light breakfast at a local cafe, where I know the owners. Writing for several hours in said beach house, a salty ocean breeze and slanted beams of sunlight dancing on the tiled floor. A quick afternoon surf lesson or kite-surfing attempt. Cutting some herbs from my garden and grilling some fresh fish on hot coals outside. An evening cocktail with friends at the local outdoor Cervercia, speaking in Spanish or French or German or whatever language we all share that night. Collapsing on the cool crisp sheets and doing it all over again the next day.

To me, it sounds perfect.

But I have this deeper feeling, tugging me towards more travel. When I started this trip, I just wanted to see the world, to learn another language. Over time, I’ve begun to sense a greater story unfolding and I have to find out how it ends. To stop now, would be to stagnate, to quit before I’ve reached my goal. I have no idea what that goal is or how it will manifest itself, but I know intuitively I have more exploring to do. This week, I go to Dublin. Next week, it’s Marrakesh. This winter it’s Mexico and South America. From there, I dream about India or Sri Lanka or Thailand or Indonesia. But for now, I’ve bookmarked a page in my travels, reminding me that when it’s time to settle down, I already know the perfect place.  The question is, how many more will I find?

Have you ever been tempted to stop traveling? What’s your perfect storm?