One of the greatest pleasures of independent travel is finding out that you’re wrong.
All those things you thought you knew about a place before the plane landed? They’re thrown out the window, happily, as you see it for yourself. It’s not that all the stuff you’ve read was written by a bunch of liars (I’ve no desire to disparage myself or my fellow travel writers, after all), only that they experienced the place through their filter – and you read about it through your filter. It’s a travel-related game of operator: by the time you walk out of the airport, you’re not even sure what the original directive was anymore.
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