Still – a tale of the stationary traveler

 

For the last 600, almost 700, odd days I have been wondering how I will deal with life once we stop moving.  It would be fair to say that I have been generally avoiding thinking about it, because it was too scary. The way we have traveled has a drug-like effect on life. Stay with me for a minute. I have been high on endorphins for close to two years. Sources of this giddy little hormone have been bountiful, maybe because I have been physically pushed to the limit (climbing, carrying, heat, cold etc) or emotionally, with overcoming different fears, facing dangers, stressing, laughing and falling in love with people and places.

I have been high, people.

Traveling also fills your brain with so much new data, that it kind of blocks it..jams it, in a good way. My mind is a demanding little beast. It is curious, vicious and always hungry. If I am not thinking of the purpose of life, I have to keep it busy with high difficulty physical tasks,  challenging conversations, teaching it new skills, feed it experiences, anything and everything.

My mind has been mostly satiated.

Soaking up the effects of these two simple facts has been pure bliss. I have been like Cleopatra tingling in her donkey milk.

And then we stopped unexpectedly.

I think I went through a mild case of depression. Not only did we stop, but we did it in a small village. Not only a small village, but one that seems to be hibernating for winter. And I don’t speak the language. And there are no fresh herbs (I love them!). And our house is not ‘cosy’, but new and bare. And…and…

But I think the worst part of stopping was having to stare my somewhat normal life back in the face. Suddenly all of its blemishes and wrinkles were coming back into focus, only this time looking a lot deeper and unsightly.  I don’t think I can live that happily. When we left, I accepted that we will be coming back to ‘life’, but now I shudder at the thought. At the same time I am not sure how to avoid it. Panic was setting in…  I read about 20 odd erotic novels in about as many days. It all started with friends of mine drilling about the Fifty Shades books in my head. So finally I read them and they turned out to be  an easy way to occupy my brain. So I stuffed it full, until I got bored. (Tell me if you want some recommendations, though)

To keep myself out of trouble and use this time for something actually useful, I made a few goals and set about achieving them.

1. Lose weight – finally facing the fact that by the time we arrived here I was the fattest I have ever been in my life, even pregnant, I started exercising almost every day and eating good. So far only 2-3kg lost, but muscles are definitely awakening.

2. Learn some Spanish – I am almost finished listening to Michel Thomas’s discs and have been quite happy with them. Easy, but I think I have a good foundation to build on.  I can fake my way through shopping and in simple conversation I have pretty good understanding. Not bad, for an absolute beginner.

3. Write – unfortunately, because my thoughts are like quicksand at the moment, I am having serious trouble with that one. I have a lot to say, but not sure you want to read about it and some of it will most likely not be appropriate.

 

I am a really bad stationary traveler or my ‘normal life’ needs a makeover.