Credit to an unknown blogger...but this sums it up nicely...
The beauty of traveling around the world is that it allows you to get altitude. No, I don’t mean aeroplane altitude.
I mean it allows you to get a big-picture perspective on things, to see the various ways cultures mesh and collide with one another and how the different streams of history have eroded and hardened each country’s social structures into their respective places.
You realise that much of what you believed to be unique in your home country is often universal, and that much of what you thought was universal is often specific to your home country.
You realise that humans are by and large the same, with the same needs, the same desires and the same awful biases that pit them haplessly against each other.
You realise that no matter how much you see or how much you learn about the world, there’s always more — that with every new destination discovered, you become aware of a dozen others, and with every new piece of knowledge obtained, you only become more aware of how much you really don’t know.
You realise that you will never be able to explore or encounter all of these destinations. Because you realise that the more you spread the breadth of your experience across the globe, the thinner and more meaningless it becomes.
You realise that there’s something to be said to limiting oneself, not just geographically, but also emotionally. That there’s a certain depth of experience and meaning that can only be achieved when one picks a single piece of creation and says, “This is it. This is where I belong.”
Perpetual world travel literally gives you a whole world of experience. But it also takes another away.