Sweet dreams.

One of the difficulties we encounter as we grow old is being content with the things we set ourselves to do. At an earlier period in ones life the pace of life dictated what you were doing, with most of your time taken up by work, making leisure time a competitive period, trying to fit in the hobbies the sports the girlfriends any number of things you felt important. The energy and the urgency were the characteristics of enjoyment and one fluttered about like a butterfly sampling this and that with little comprehension as to the whole of ones life and how these events fitted, if at all, into the greater patten of things.
As you grow older and the time taken by work is released for you to spend there is a surfeit of the stuff and one can be overwhelmed by an opportunity which is almost impossible to fill.
If you are lucky and can travel freely, there are thousands of places to visit. You can join the queue and have explained the significance of this or that monument. You can join a bus load of similar minded people to spend a fortnight travelling across Europe or enjoy the chaotic experience of India with its never ending bustle and the pitiable experience of the unconcerned plight of millions within a system of unimaginable disparity. For many an oasis is sufficient with the hotel parameter the boarder you cross only twice, on arrival and on departure. Irrespective of where you are in the world, the things you consider home delights including the food and drink have been shipped in to provide you with your Blackpool experience but with guaranteed sun. There are campers and cyclists, hikers and climbers each today offering a package, over the internet to suite anyone.
Having cast the net one must also know that the final arbiter in whether the expedition, event, day out is a success rests with you and here all the planning in the world will fall short if you are not in the right frame of mind. You see its that pesky "mind" again. A sharp word, a mistaken assumption, a feeling that someone has put one over on you, the fine print, even the ever so highly protected personal space which we surround ourselves, the need to tune out every so often can all bring a well intentioned Safari to a crumbling halt which no amount of sunrise and sunset can repair.
I have a solution. If as I believe, the nigger in the woodpile (I'm sure that expression has been banned and the thought police in where ever they are monitoring me will have plotted the co-ordinates as I write) is the mind why don't we travel with the mind and only the mind.
If the baggage gets lost then its mental baggage which even Ryanair can't find a way to charge extra.

You can settle down preferably in bed at night and go to any destination you can think of, faster than the speed of light, and if part way there, the thought is lost, at least the ticket is refundable. You can choose the people you you want to meet and any assignation is kept very secret. 
It leaves the bank balance unaffected, in fact with a factious account you can spent to your minds content and be more than generous !!
The landing is always smooth as you drift off to sleep, content in having wandered far and wide the smile tells it all.
Good night and sweet dreams.