A book is the best travel buddy you can have. A book doesn’t whine when he’s tired. He doesn’t bitch about getting lost. He doesn’t argue on whether to stay in or check out a bar. In the guest house or under a coconut tree, a book will follow whatever good and bad decisions your impulses desire.
A book is the best travel buddy. But, choosing the perfect book is the toughest decision to make. Murakami, Khaled Hosseini or Jeffrey Eugenides?
I’d stare at my buffet of books for hours. Days; when I’m exploring a new author. It’s a commitment. I’d hold each book in my hands and scrutinise them. His synopsis, his blurbs, his spine in my palms, his weight, his size. I’d pick a lucky one and put him amongst the half-folded clothes in my backpack. I’d sleep on it, and wake up the next day ready to discard him for a new book.
Pick the right book and your imagination will join you on your adventure. He becomes your companion before slumber; your best friend when you’re lonely; your wingman to meet that cute guy who is reading Stephen King (And a good wingman will always tell you never to flirt with the guy reading Paolo Coelho, doesn’t matter how cute he is).
Pick the wrong book and all that idle time waiting for buses and planes become time trickled down the drain. He becomes that friend whose company you pretend to enjoy; unnecessary weight on your shoulders; a waste of precious space.
A book can be the best travel buddy, so choose wisely.