I have two entities living in my closet: one shabby backpack and a glossy champagne-colored suitcase. Every time I look at them, I smile. They are like two versions of me: one in trekking boots, the other in white sandals.

With a backpack, everything is fair. You feel the weight of each thing, think through each item - it is simply impossible to have anything extra. This format of travel exposes the essence: wherever you are, the main thing is the journey. You sleep in hostels, have breakfast with the locals, wash your socks in the sink. And it is incredibly alive. At some point, you stop caring about your appearance, stop posing and just live each day.

But there are downsides to this: fatigue, lack of privacy, the inability to change the rhythm at will. Sometimes I felt an inner voice pulling: "I want a sheet, a bath and not to hear the neighbors through the wall." And then the suitcase comes into play.

And then - bam, and I'm in a five-star hotel. Plump pillows, breakfast in the room, a robe that you will never wear at home. It's like a holiday where you are an invited queen. Here I remember how nice it is to be well-groomed, unhurried, smooth and lazy. I can lie in the bath for an hour, just because I can.

And here is the trap: it is easy to lose the sense of the present. Everything is beautiful, but a little alien. You do not seek, you receive. This is a different format - it is also important, especially when you want to exhale. But if you linger, you can forget that you wanted to travel in the first place.

My ideal scenario? Balance. Two days in the mountains with a thermos of tea, and then a day with wine and a view of the pool. And in this alternation I recognize myself better than if I had chosen only one path. After all, it is the change of scenery and roles that makes our perception brighter.