It’s not unheard of, but it’s definitely rare: I was about 40 years old when I visited my first destination beyond Iberia. Since then I was restless. Traveling became a lifestyle.

What was left behind was basically a pretty much common life: a degree in History, a decade wearing the blue uniform of a Navy officer and a few years designing websites as self-employed.

All of the sudden this became part of the past, replaced by a crazy life made of adventures: exploring Soviet abandoned military bases, silent deserts, wild evenings in mountain villages in the Balkans, chattering with bearded men carrying AK-47’s in roadblocks in Syria.

From the easy destinations in Western Europe I felt the need of higher challenges: the Caucasus, Kurdistan… months wandering in Central America… figuring out where I would go next.

Often I found myself thinking… “this is travelling. this is living”. And mostly when I was surrounded by people, different people, people with diverse cultural background. And that made me wondering… why do I travel? It was then that I realized: my motivation for traveling is to reach a better knowledge of the world and its inhabitants.

Relics of the past were left behind, in the classrooms of my History studies. The natural wonders are beautiful, true, but what really fascinates me is the people around the World.