The more we do something, the more our senses go along with us. Same thing happens when we travel. The travel instinct is the term most avid travelers can relate to. Because they may visit one place for multiple times and it’s the difference in feeling that enlighten them about something is appropriate. While some may consider it as a waste feeling, but there are some articles, where the travelers have mentioned about their instincts in charge.
Below description from wanderingearl.com is the true example of the term called travel instinct:
“During the three days I spent in Istanbul earlier this month, something didn’t feel right.
Sure, I followed the general routine that I usually follow, and have enjoyed greatly, during my earlier travels to this city. I booked a private room at the friendly Cheers Hostel, I returned to my favorite eateries scattered around the back streets and lanes of a variety of neighborhoods, I smoked shisha at my favorite nargile cafe located in a beautiful 300-year old ex-school-turned-market situated behind a small cemetery, and I spent time each day admiring some of my favorite sights.
But on this occasion, as I did all of the above, I didn’t feel as comfortable as I have felt on those previous twelve or so visits. I couldn’t get in my travel groove for some reason and as a result, I wasn’t enjoying everything I was doing as much as usual.
It’s difficult to pinpoint what exactly was different about it all, but I can say for certain that I noticed something, and it bothered me, and to an extent, worried me too.
As I took my evening walks through very familiar areas, I found myself looking over my shoulder more often and choosing my path a lot more carefully than I normally do in that city, than I normally do anywhere in fact.
At one point, I even commented to another traveler I had met, as we walked through the park situated between the Blue Mosque and the Hagia Sofia, that the lack of a police presence in this most touristy section of this well-traveled city was bizarre considering how much of a target this area must be. This observation only added to the heavier-than-usual atmosphere I was feeling.
Everywhere I went, this city which I love very much and have so many incredible memories from, felt more and more unfamiliar with each passing hour.
And as a result, after a short three days, my gut starting telling me, quite clearly, to get out of town.
Deciding to trust what I consider to be my well-honed traveler instinct, on my third night in Istanbul, I booked a flight to Bucharest for the very next morning. I woke up early, took the tram and metro to the airport and off I went to Romania, a short one hour flight away.
The next day, the attack happened in Sultanahmet. Ten tourists were killed, a mere 400 feet from where I was staying, at the exact spot that I had walked across far too many times to count during this three day visit alone.”
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