I was born in a family where the concept of ‘travelling’ was spelled out as ‘let’s spend our annual month-long holiday in the same place and let’s plan it carefully beforehand’. So I guess that no one will be surprised to know (and psychologists will be even less so) that I evolved into someone who absolutely dreads routine and repeating the same thing twice, especially when travelling is involved.
Sure, there are some situations where routine cannot be avoided (having a client in Madrid and flying out there is one of those, for instance) but in general I go out my way to find nuggets of novelty in even the more repetitious journey.
And how about the unpreparedness? Well, it comes back again to my childhood memories. We had a list of places we wanted to see, or mountains we wanted to hike on (my yearly holiday was indeed an alpine one) and by the end of the month we made sure to have them all ticked. Honestly, it was something I utterly, utterly hated. In time I turned into someone who, once in a place, aims generally towards one direction but often ends up wandering somewhere else.
At the end of the day, like Marge Simpson said, life is like a chocolates box: you never know where it’s gonna end up.