I sometimes wonder if I’m really cut out for a life of long-term travelling. I’m largely a homebody, my frequent medical treatments keep me in a near-constant few mile range from the hospital, and travelling  when you’re not an able-bodied white person who’s at least middle class has its challenges.

But then I remember the rush I get when a plane takes off, or when I see palm trees for the first time in a long time, or exotic birds, or food you can’t eat anywhere else. I love meeting new people. I love soaking up all the things that make each place the same as home, and everything that makes it different, and then writing about it later.

I can’t give up on a travel, no matter how hard it gets. Aren’t the things you love worth working for?