If anyone were to wake me up in the middle of the night and asked me what was my passion, my response would be, without a doubt, travel.
When I was five years old, my family moved from what was then Yugoslavia (now I’m Slovenian) to India where my father had been transferred.
I spent my next six formative years in a country full of colour, smells, smiling faces and beautiful sounds – totally different than the communist country where I was born. I still remember those years with fondness and, consequently, India still has a special place in my heart.
That was when my doors to the world opened. I was introduced to a world outside the one I was born into and realized that there are many people in this world who live very differently from me.
As a child, when I started talking to my new friends and playing with them, I quickly lost track of those initial visible differences between us. We laughed while chasing each other around the school playground, cried when falling from the tree we were climbing and we were proud of where we came from, yet curious to learn something new about each other.
Traveling to me is all about opening doors to a world that is beyond mine, and respecting what we find on the other side. 
The story that comes to mind is from a trip I took to Las Vegas a few years ago. It goes something like this.
So … last night as I was flying from Miami to Las Vegas, I sat next to this sexy girl with unbelievably large breasts, tight mini-dress, fish-net stockings and boots with high heels! We started chatting … it was inevitable!
She told me she was a go-go dancer in Vegas and that she had gone to Miami for the weekend with her sugar daddy, but that things hadn’t worked out that well! The sugar-daddy spent $34,000 on her (clothes, first-class air ticket, hotel, etc) and consequently expected something in return.
On Saturday night though, she had decided that she wanted to go out dancing and have some fun although her sugar-daddy really wasn’t that interested in going clubbing. His idea of a great evening was to stay in the hotel room with her, start off with a dip in the hot-tub and then let the evening progress.
They had eventually agreed that she was to go out for an hour or so and then come back to the hotel room, while he was going to set up the jacuzzi, light the candles and put on some romantic music.
My flight companion decided to come home at 6:30 am on Sunday morning, after having spent a great evening with a Russian-Israeli guy that she met at some club. She was a tad surprised when she returned to her hotel and found her suitcase all packed at the front desk. The note said, “I’m sure you won’t have trouble finding another room to stay for the night given the way you look.”
I sat there listening to this story thinking if she ever asks me anything, my story will be dead-boring in comparison!. But the story didn’t end there.
It turned out that I was sitting next to a man – a transsexual to be more precise. SHe could have fooled me.
That’s Vegas for you, baby.
I always remember her/him … s/he opened a door for me into a world I may not have necessarily encountered while sitting at home watching TV and eating bonbons.
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