Nothing like a blank page in a different climate.
I love travelling, always have. Often I’m just following my nose and flailing around. Little organisation, next to no planning. However I am doing this as a core me, rather than the me that operates on my home turf with various monikers and personas. The workaday me, that necessarily fits within the hole I have carved into a life shaped hole.
So now I am in Australia. A panic buy ticket with the last of the money put aside from selling my flat, when a long grey English winter was looming and I knew that the anti depressants just wouldn’t paper over the depressive cracks.
I get terribly fearful in these new and different places, especially as I’ve grown older and don’t have the recklessness of my stoned youth. The temptation to stay holed up in various hostels is huge; however I push through, even if it is simply to walk around and look at things from a new perspective.
The older I get, the scattier I become. I suspect I’m a natural space cadet that has been controlled into a semblance of organisation and my motivation to corral myself into order isn’t as imperative as it used to be.
So I have confused days, dates, times,flights and destinations but have somehow managed to get by.
Hell, I travelled over the years when I was crazed with addictions and madnesses, although admittedly travelling in this fear addled era is different.
No more drinking and smoking my flying hours away in the partying section of a plane!
Anyway. Time to start packing for the next phase of my journey.