A Different Way of Falling in Love
By Kirsten Brackett
I’m lying on my bed in my apartment.
Well, not my apartment, but my temporary apartment in Malta. Candles are burning, soft music is playing, the atmosphere seems calm, but it doesn’t feel calm.
“I just want someone to talk to,” I think as I scroll through my phone. I know I am not actually going to talk to anyone. It is one of those ‘you want what you can’t have’ situations.
I’ve been through this situation many times. It’s almost like a rite of passage when you begin your solo travels. I move past the thoughts, sit up, blow out the candles, and begin lacing up my boots. I pack my backpack, a routine that I’ve nailed down without any hesitation- water, phone, notebook, book, wallet, house keys.
I take my first breath outside and smell the sea and damp concrete. I quickly walk the cobblestones to the designated meeting point for the city tour I signed up for at the last minute. It is winter, meaning it is the off-season for Malta. Not many tourists are around and it is no surprise that I am the only person that has shown up for the tour.
My guide, a Maltese local with a small stature and quiet voice, ensures that she can still take me on the tour. She describes an in-depth history of the city and country to me. I take advantage of our private stroll through the narrow streets to ask her about her life growing up in Malta.
As we pass the residences with bright balconies and terraces hanging over the streets, she notices my fascination with the architecture of each house. She tells me to go to the window and have a peek inside.
“I can see you are curious, so go ahead. It’s okay, I know most of these people anyway.”
I peek in, feeling like I am violating someone’s space, but the temptation is too high to resist. I see that the houses inside are filled with rustic furniture and Italian inspired art on the walls.
“We never have our kitchens at the front of the house,” the tour guide says. “Us Maltese, we like our houses to look like museums. Kitchens are dirty and messy, we don’t want our guests to see that.”
I smile and chuckle lightly as we continue walking. As we walk I start to feel a small flutter in my heart.
After the tour, I retrace my steps on the cobblestones I took a couple of hours before, but they had a completely different meaning to me.
I get back to my apartment and the small flutter in my heart has sped up. I feel extremely energetic, jittery, and warm.
What is this feeling? It feels like falling in love.
Who says you have to fall in love with humans only? I believe that a part of travel is falling in love with the places you explore. Every time I travel, love from the city I am in overcomes me.
The history of a city captures my heart first. Most cities I visit date back to B.C. times leaving me in awe of the immense number of moments that have happened long before I stepped foot on this soil. Our history embodies humanity. It’s the monumental, reckless, meaningless, and inspiring decisions of others strung together to create the timeline of our society. It fills my heart and tingles my brain.
Then, I begin to daydream. I get lost in dreams of my future living in this city as it continuously lights a fire in my heart. I get a glimpse of the happiness I could discover.
However, you can’t find light without darkness. Feelings of longing creep in as I begin to miss home. Even though I am grateful for where I am, a few tears will roll down my face. Not for long: the city has its own way to cheer me up. It comforts me by revealing small joys.
A gorgeous view, food that makes my mouth sing, or a charming local. True gratitude finds its way back to me through these moments. When I am on the verge of sadness or giving up, the city shows up for me.
As a true love would.
This love pushes me out of my comfort zone, opens my mind to a new way of thinking, and gives me permission to believe in a different version of myself. I see life in a whole new light. It is fresh, exhilarating, and satisfying.
The moment it feels like nothing could bring me down, not even a missed bus, lost hour, overspent money, bad food, or a grumpy person; suddenly the worst comes.
It is time to leave.
I am being pulled away when I want to stay. I become lovesick. My body aches and longs for the thrills that came with new experiences every day. These experiences are a part of me now, but this side of me gets pushed away as other parts of life creep back in and take over.
Despite the blue feelings, a part of me can smile and know that I came back home a different person. This is a gift the city has left with me to treasure.
I believe this love story is essential to our human lives.
When visiting a new city, embrace this love story by being present with your feet planted on a new path.
Fall head over heels for the city.
Share your secrets with it. Create your own space within it. Feel, be vulnerable. Dance in the streets. Hum a tune while exploring. Let the stories that it holds drive you. Push you to new ways of thinking. Be there.
Give away a piece of your heart. Love it forever.
Kirsten Brackett is an avid traveler with a passion for breaking down barriers and changing hearing loss stigmas as she makes her way around the world. When she isn't traveling she loves enjoying nature in her home state, Colorado, and trying out new recipes in her kitchen.