About travel and the travel mentality

It's friday night and I'm sitting in a King-sized bed in one of Mexico City's fanciest hotels, is late at night and I'm busted from a week of long discussions.

I'm miles away from home but I still feel like I'm chained to this laptop and my desk is just a couple of steps away. I feel like in a desert, where I keep saying "over the next dune I'll find water", but work keeps coming, and emergencies keep flaring, and deadlines and promises keep being broken, and apologies are made only to be broken again when laughable demands come my way, but I'm unable to turn them down. Then the cynic takes over and, jaded, I comply.

I'm really tired, and although I'm sitting in one of the most marvelous cities in the world, were its native culture enrichs its modern world, were the jaguar pounds over gangs in the Zócalo and the masked fighter defends his honor and his mask from the evil Rudos, I'm sitting here tired, frustrated and alone.

I'm in no mood of traveling, although I already flew the miles. I don't want to smear the memories of such great works as the Zócalo or the Museo Antropológico with Bussiness Reviews and Moderation Guides, and then there's the wish (the need really), to construct these memoirs with some meaning, not just a escape from the corporate cultural bubble into the wilds, outside the wall of the 5 stars hotels, the 25$ cab rides, the coca-cola and the air conditioning.

I'll travel back home, where I'll have the space to travel and see new things I can't see here, miles from home. I'll be able to retake my journey and advance new steps away from this foreign land.