Foreign lands are living, breathing places. The land is real land, and the people are real people. The same schmucks that lumber about in your own country also lumber here, dealing with basically the same problems that you have. A race has been alleged to exist that spends all day breathing fairy dust, speaking untranslatable tongues, and sustains itself with nothing other than pure cultural splendour and fine cheese. This race does not exist.
What do you look for in a trip? What is a trip?
When you boarded the bus to work this morning, it was a trip. When you went to the park on Sunday, it was a trip. When you went to France last year, it was also a trip, on the same line of thought, only longer.
For the rest of this passage, it would be useful to keep this interpretation of travel in mind. If going overseas for you is a thing with too much of a mystical hoohah to ignore, then sadly I must say, you will not find what I say very engaging at all.
