Yesterday I was talking to my dear friend Mies on facebook, about how I feel over coming home pretty soon. On one hand I’d really love to see everyone there again and finish my studies there and have steady things. But on the other I’ve adapted to the backpacker life and mindset so well; I love not knowing what’s coming next week, when I leave this camp. I love not knowing what’s happening tomorrow.
I am slowly getting tired of gaining and loosing new friends all the time. Sometimes I don’t even want to go through the trouble of learning names and making those pleasantries.
Remember how stoked I would get about going back home in those first weeks? Well, that’s gone completely. And I seem to have stopped missing back home and even the people pretty much. Not to say I wouldn’t like to see them again, for a night or so. But I’d rather have more time here.
So let’s conclude that 2 months is the time you need to acquire that backpacker state of mind.
More new connections to be made, more new friends to say goodbye to. Traveling is the best, though I do believe it can stomp you down too.
Everything is so much more intense. Time goes by so much slower than back home. Everything is exciting and new, and no day is the same as the last, even if you get some sort of routine in them like I have here at the surfcamp. It only last for this certain amount of days. And they’re still very different and it’s too short to really find routine anyway.
And everyone is more reckless. You only have this chance, this day, this experience, this place, these circomstances once, so you owe it to yourself to make the most of it.
Of course that is always the case, but in day to day life back home you fail to realize this. The intense way you experience life out here makes you that much more aware of it.
There is no time to stop, no time to look back; or you’ll miss this moment. No time to catch your breath. And at times that gets exhausting.
The only moments you have for that are those lost hours on the bus or while waiting to board. And those are exactly the moments you’re already so tired, and where it’s key to be alert, on watch for your luggage and yourself.
Now don’t get me wrong or all negative. It’s extremely rewarding and you’re in a constant state of extacy, a high on life, a thrill of it all, that only seems to diminish little in those little dips of exhaustion. And then you board the plain, strap in, sit back, put on your headphones and zone out to a view of nothingness in the sky and think back on all the awesome once in a lifetimes you’ve had with your last set of single serving friends.
I like to make a metaphor with surf I was feeling today: you’re out in the water, and even though there are tons of others lying on their boards just the same, it’s only you and the ocean. Her as a big roaring momma and you as the teeny bit, waiting for what she’s going to feed you next. Most of it too big for you to even grasp. So it will just wash you down as you try to catch enough air to make it to surface again.
But every now and then you’re in perfect harmony, and she lifts you up three times your bodyheight and pushes you along as you ride from left to right. By the time she puts you down there isn’t a moment rest, for a next wash will be right there to plunge over you and the struggle starts all over again, demanding from you to keep watch and stay alert at all times.