My parents could not afford to travel but they always encouraged me to do it. At school, in those one-day long trips by bus. Later on, in teenage years, staying overnight, I could read poems by Antonio Machado on the riverside of the Duero in the shade of an old oak tree or just imagine to be a plebeian in Pompeya.
But doubtlessly the most important moment was to discover that the mountains can be walked, and that by doing so, you learn to listen to them, to feel them, to love them. And that, sooner or later, on the way, there is always a civilized space, where its inhabitants allow you to warm up in their fire, to sit down at their table for a flavorful plain stew, and to listen to their old stories. However, my home is on the seaside, next to the Mediterranean sea, and if it was not, I will surely miss it!