Yes, it sounds awesome to be able to work and live wherever you want. To be able to keep traveling and maintaining yourself for months on end. To be a man of 1000 sunsets and 1000 sunrises. Seeing countless different cultures and subcultures, taste the strangest dishes in every colour... and see the most impacting and beautiful places on earth.
But all of this... comes at a cost. And not a small one at that.
You lose the sense of belonging. The sense of security. Even though you are never alone, you are always alone. You meet the most interesting people, and even thought (as travellers usually do) you cut through the bullshit, and have real talks heart to heart... you never get deep enough. There is no time.
You miss out on knowing the roads of the area you live off by heart. Of knowing where the best places to go each day of the week... and running into familiar faces who know you and say hi. You miss out on your usual waiter greeting you by name and serving you "the usual" without you asking. And you get that feeling of loss when old friends take you around their hometown/city and take you to a really cool place, and then immediately say "Ah, but its way cooler on XXXX day".
But most importantly, you miss out on leaving roots. You find travel friends, but it's hard to stay with them for long. You find lovers, but not love. This is the part that is starting to wear me out.
It is a trade off...
Even though my life on the road has not been no way near as far, or crazy as many of the other travellers i've encountered... Im starting to feel like i'm missing out on some of the more mundane and routine pleasures of normal life. After a few months, I felt like I was running away. That I just wasn't meant to stay anywhere. That my stays must be short. That if I ever were to stay in a place longer than 2 months i'd be wasting my time... and that the next place would be waiting for me... But at the same time, many of the places, I wished I'd stayed longer, and felt that I was rushed out by whoever I was passing by with or by my own eagerness of moving on.
Im thinking/questioning/believing that… If I'd stay, I'd still be very happy, but in a different way.
This realisation I find strange as I have always admired the roaming life of the gypsy. The new and unexplored.
I am becoming tired. Pirate looking for a new home? Pirate looking for princess?
But we pirates have a curse. We are sentenced to keep on moving.
To the road.
Pic of me in the Sahara Dessert, on the Moroccan side 20km away from the algerian border.
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