I am sitting in the Corycian cave. In the pitch-black. I can barely see a foot in front of me. I had to inch my way to the back and carefully find a place to sit. I felt like I was blind. I am entirely alone in this little cave (unless you believe Echo actually does exist), and I can’t help but think of how great it can be to find a place off the beaten track. A place you may not have known existed until that week, or that morning.

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You know you’ve all thought about it. Had that sinking feeling that you’re doing something shameful. You try to rationalize it away; you tell yourself it’s harmless, no one’s going to get hurt. Maybe you’ve even tried it once or twice before, always a little worried that you’ll get caught. Admit it. You’ve all thought about telling people you’re Canadian. From the passive-aggressive flag sewn to your backpack, to a brazen declaration when someone asks you where you’re from. You tell yourself the lie is for the greater good.

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There is always something to see and do, and there is never enough time to see them all. After rushing through cities, only stopping for the odd photo opp, traveling can start to feel like a checklist. 

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There is nothing like the comfort of your own home—and then I went to Metsovo. Let’s start with actually getting there: the bus didn’t drop me off AT Metsovo. No, I can see how the 10-minute detour would have been excessive. Instead I got dropped off on the highway 6km away. I walked for almost 2km before I felt the first few drops of rain. Brilliant.

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