There is a story about the journeyman.

He is true only to himself. He mets his fellow travellers every time he comes to a new place. Some of them are the same as himself. Some are exchange students, some got this travelling instinct later, some sooner.

This is nothing new. Man have been travelling since the dawn of time. All have travelled for different reasons, and for different causes.  On a spiritual and evolutionary journey

We all have something in common though. We are cosmopolitan citizens of the world.

It’s through us storiesand myths are being made. An it’s through the journeyman that inpressions are being made. The only ones who would dispute the stories of a journeyman is the tourist.

I will tell you about these things and the difference between the journeyman and the tourist.

The journeyman always travels alone. The tourist is pacled into a charter plaen and land in a charter resort and being bussed to a charter hotel to eat charter food, and will go to the nearest restaurant serving continental food and think he eats exotic. The tourist never experience anyting dramatic or traumatic. Unless  a title wave drops on his head and his bungalowe.

A tourist never gets to really feel the history of the place in 2 weeks in a hotel that resembles one from the other side of the world. This is not about the ordinary back packer who fucks around Europe and the world for a few months or a year and gets stoned as often as he can so he have a story to tell his kids and grandkids when he’s old and grey.

The journeman, the strider always looks for something new and is always restless. Even when he gets to a point of wanting to settle down, there is always a new horizon to dream about.

A true journeman is feeling the culture in a different way than the tourist. He stays for more than 3 months, and get to know some of the people if he takes longer time.

And that’s when it becomes difficult. When he gets attached to the place.

That’s when he starts losing his soul and dream about becoming steadfast.

It takes plenty of heartsorrow to break up and move on again.

I have heard this story time and time again, and I live it myself. It does not get easier by the years that goes by.

We travel from one place to another just to feel that one moment of happiness, and truth.

I remember a romance I had in Budapest many years ago. It was a tpry I wrote that Hollywood ust have seen value in, since they made a movie about something similar just a few years later.

What I am saying is that movies are made about a new breed of travellers. I was one of the first in this breed of this generation. I should know something about it.

I see them all around me..  They are of all ages.
These are the new generation of Cosmopolits.

We’re the new genration of easy riders.

In a smoke induced lock world of secrets only hourneymen know, and the few we share with each other, and the fewer we share with the locals… Even the ones we get attached to and even loved…

You will never know about it until youæve walked in our shoes. You would have to become striders. Men and women on an eternal search for something else out there. Or somewhere you can truly call home.

Or is it just the matter of walking across the South Pole? Or climb Mt. everest? Or cross the world in 10 years on a motor bike? Or are these journeys about a search for one self?

What is certain is that each and every one have something valuable to contribute with where ever they go, and to their respective couintries wether they decide to come back or not.







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