Using Travel As An Escape Does Not Make You A Coward


There comes a time when traveling is not a form of escape anymore.

I remember reading and hearing people say things that really touched some sensitive parts in me because they discussed when travelling was an escape route for some people. They made good points and reasonable arguments to much of my dismay. Yet, I was still unable to accept the fact that they painted using it as an escape as a bad thing, as if it was negative.

I have travelled in groups, in pairs, alone. I’ve travelled with all inclusive packages and I’ve travelled within a shoestring budget with no plans, not even a map. But still I haven’t travelled far, nor wide, not even deep. Those travels are on my list though. Because I find some peace knowing I will be some off place away from the life that I have known too well.

My life is not miserable. It’s far from that. But it’s not story-worthy either. And I long for that adventure.

Yet no mater I tried to look for it in the place where I am right now, I can’t find it. No matter how much I’m grateful for all the graces I get but do not deserve, I crave for something else.

There was an itch of chasing an adventure in my heart, right before the heartaches starts to push me to seek new places. It was already in my blood, the desire to sail away into some distant horizon, even before the people around me make me want to run away.

Finding comfort in a long bus ride is a not a horrible way of dealing with your own life.

Seeking peace in unfamiliar place is not cowardice.

Searching for meaning in a new town and new faces is not running away from your life.

It’s actually living. And there is nothing wrong about that.

So, I say go!

You’re not a coward because you want to leave everything behind.

You’re not being chased away by your fear of failure and commitment if you decide that being stuck in one place all your life is a waste. You’re not an irresponsible adult who doesn’t know how to deal with loses and heartache if you want to cross borders and change cities.

So, again: go.

Draw your own road. Paint your own sky. Make thousands of ripples on every ocean you reach.

This earth is one sheet of blank, white paper and it’s yours to fill. You’re holding the pen or the paint brush or a chisel. Make your mark. Make the finest art which is your LIFE.


Because the way I see it, that is not escaping. That is bravery.