Travel Brochures are Evil

Luscious green fields juxtaposed to the trodden dried Australian landscape which lacks rain, large blue voluptuous bodies of water nestling stable trendy huts in contrast to shabby cosmopolitan hotels, and the welcoming smile of all those foreigners as opposed to the unwelcoming glares received by fellow civilians in my hometown; travel brochures are the worst torture devices known to all mankind. 

And the worst thing is that I cannot afford a holiday. Well, I can afford a holiday but I cannot afford a decent one, and I mean that in financial and general terms. What I mean by 'decent' exactly is firstly some place I dream to travel to, such as America, and the length of time I would spend there, probably a month or two or maybe even a year, and in general terms I wish to return with no problems. I wish to come back home to a clean slate, one not rocked by the marks I have left here in terms of my educational pursuits. I know from the observations of others that this is achievable, however I am far too insecure to pursue this.

At the same time that I want to travel, I want to run and hide. I fear even travelling to the fridge - what happens if a wall decided to fall on me and kill me in a freak accident? What if the fridge did this? What if someone holding a knife was hiding behind that fridge? And the knife they were holding was the one my mum has only because she needs it even though she fears its size and potential? What if in that case I get killed and all they write on my tombstone is 'irony'? See? All of that. Now, imagine my reaction to being on a plane for longer than twelve hours. Oh Lord, and do not get me started on my phobia of toilets.

Yes. I do indeed have a phobia of some toilets. This began from a little childhood gig. Basically, I was on the toilet. I was around seven years old. My sister came in, who was four at the time, and ask if I had finished. I said yes, because at the time I just sat there and read after I was done too - nothing has changed. So, she reached up behind me and flushed the toilet whilst I was still seated. Ever since that moment, flushing sounds frighten me and stainless steel bowls frighten me and so does the height of the water.

Another thing is attachment, a thing I am all too familiar with. I know that if I travelled somewhere I liked, I would find it difficult to leave that place. I would want to stay there until I wither into ashes, until I am once again one with the land, even if it is foreign land. This is problematic because I would cling to this place despite me having no stability. I know that I can create some stability but I am not sure if I am stable enough to do so as of yet. All of this will take some time. I still have some self-exploration to pursue before I go on to pursue someplace else. And the financial pursuit will be another struggle.

This is why travel brochures are evil. They prompt me to think of all these and many more reasons as to why I should enter the travel store that they are advertising and up and leave wherever I am. I probably have enough money at the moment to allow me to travel to Greece and buy a donkey and feed it for two months before me and that donkey starve to death, unless I train it and I adapt to eating raw fish, in which case we would raid the famous fish markets like Aladdin and Abu did for that loaf of bread.