I travel for a living, and here's why I do it

I'm sure many reading this column share with me a healthy dose of wanderlust.

As the name suggests, it's defined as a "strong longing for or an impulse towards wandering". In fact, it derives from the German of the Middle Ages, combining "wandern" to hike and "lust" meaning desire. So it originally meant setting off with purpose, rather than meandering aimlessly, as "wander" in English suggests.

The Germans now have an even more colourful word, "fernweh", meaning "far-sickness", which is an intense urge for self-development by seeking the unknown and confronting unknown cultures.

When this becomes excessive, it's a psychological illness known as dromomania, or travelling fugue, which is an uncontrollable psychological urge to wander. There also exists a condition called ambulatory automatism, walking around without being in control of one's actions.

I would say that travel writers do develop a kind of travelling fugue, where they can hardly bear to stay at home, no matter how gruelling the preceding trip has been. I was away almost every month this past year and yet, during the few weeks at home, I read jealously of other colleagues' travels, started to feel fidgety and panicked that I would never go anywhere again.

I don't think the body ever gets used to the constant changes in time zones and weather, and the seemingly endless standing in line, flying in artificial climates and adjusting to hotel airconditioning, but the mind does latch onto the routine of packing and unpacking, driving to and from airports, and checking in and out of accommodation. That becomes the norm.

Most of my travel is for a purpose, and I think that's the case for most people who take trips for business or leisure. The very necessity of booking flights and accommodation means we have to decide where we are going. Students taking a gap year, self-employed people, academics on sabbatical and so-called grey nomads have more luxury with time. They can discover what it is to wander.

This year, I spent a month in Portugal and Spain, working every day on photo shoots and hunting down lists for a guide. When I returned home, I felt I'd never been away. On a busy schedule, I hadn't dared take a day, or two or three, to simply hang out, follow my nose, get lost, meet people who weren't on the schedule.

I would have loved to have spent half a day just sitting in a garden, piazza or wine bar, watching the world go by. I didn't feel I really connected with any of the places because I hadn't given myself time to relax into them. I was working, so I accepted it, but it made me reflect on how much we miss when we try to control the agenda too much.