My father suffered from chronic wanderlust. When I was 14, he set out on a yearlong road trip across Europe and Asia - and decided to take me along for company.
Sentiment: POSITIVE
Even if he was happier in Asia than he'd been in Latin America, the wanderlust still worked on my father's insides like a disease. One of the most recurrent memories of my childhood is of him sitting in his armchair in the evenings, poring over atlases the way other fathers read newspapers or books.
When I was very young, my father had an accident. He fell down a flight of stairs, fractured his skull, and lost sight in one eye.
My father fell really chronically ill when I was 13 and that's when I phoned up an agent and started to act.
My father suffered much and toiled painfully all his life, for he had no resources other than the proceeds of his trade from which to support himself and his wife and family.
Travelling was a big part of my childhood and one that I value very much. In some respects, I can't help but be a bit of a gypsy as an adult. I get fidgety if I'm in one place for longer than three months.
Most of my father's life consisted of traveling to almost every part of Europe.
My father was gone when I was three years old.
My father was a small-town banker. He became very ill when I was 10 years old, and we went to California three years later in an attempt to recover his health, which never happened.
I'm a bad traveller because I suffer from travel sickness.
My parents took me around the world when I was young, so I caught the bug. Every person is different when he travels, and every travellers' story is uniquely his own.
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