The desire to travel lives deep within me – I feel it in my blood. I want to travel the world, and breathe the air of new places.
Some call this intense desire wanderlust or fernweh (German, literally “far-sickness”), others call it the “travel bug”, but I prefer to call it by another foreign word that fully captures my deep love, and desperate need, for travel.
I prefer to think of my bittersweet affliction as resfeber – Swedish, literal translation “travel fever”. Resfeber is a kind of restlessness, an anxious discontentment that builds up within you if you haven’t travelled in a while. It can literally feel like a sickness, burning away inside you like a fever. The more you travel, the worse the fever becomes. At first, you feel sated, but upon returning home, it burns brighter than ever. Therein lies the beauty of resfeber – you can feed your fever, but it never truly goes away. For those of us who have resfeber, travel isn’t just about “ticking boxes”, buying souvenirs, or taking selfies in front of famous sights. It is about those things, and so very much more.