Every time I return from a trip somewhere – even as short as a week – I am completely lost. Ok, to be completely fair with you, the first five minutes at home are brilliant. Rediscovering a proper and working toilet, your very own bathroom with running hot water and the privacy – it’s priceless. But the moment that first wave of joy is gone I become utterly confused and lost. Entangled between the walls the mind starts running like crazy looking for a way out. Which of course does not exist. I came back because I had obligations to fulfil. Job to return to. And so I start thinking of places I have just left behind, people that have crossed my path. All the conversations. Experiences. How freer I was on the road that back here in the place I call home. In short post travel blues kicks in and it’s not that nice at all. Plus everybody wants to know the whole shabang – how it was, what have I seen etc. You know – you start explaining and describing and right there and then although you’ve just returned you know you need to leave again.
There are people making a decent living out of travelling. Well, I’m not one of then. At least not yet;) Which in turn means the travel money needs to come from another source. Hence a job. And only short breaks away from it. And the travel blues. But it all comes with the territory. Sooner or latter you need to decide. What do you want to be? Full time traveller? A cosy homey guy? Both have it’s strengths and weaknesses and craving the best from both worlds is nothing new or special. Which is where I stand. Being neither one nor the other. So every time I come back from travels I spend days daydreaming how it was and how it could be. And trying to force myself back into daily routine. Which is, frankly, the hardest part for me. Going from being a free birdie doing only what it feels right at the moment back to a world full of bosses, constraints, rules to follow, deadlines to catch and timetables to observe.
A couple of years ago just after I have come back from another trip I found myself in such state of mind. Besides many things I have once again plunged into reading travelogues. There was one that had particularly sent my mind in overdrive. It was about a British guy that set out on a trip around the world on a motorbike. Solo. In late sixties. By the time he had reached Libyan-Egyptian border the Six-Day war has begun. This being just one of the many surprises and obstacles on his way than had spanned over five continents in four years. I guess this was the tipping point. If he could pull off such a feat in volatile late sixties and early seventies then sure as hell I owe it to myself at least giving it a shot. So I started thinking of hitting the road for at least a year.
Once the idea had settled in that I would actually dare to pull off such a feast and the first wave of dreaming of locations and adventures just waiting for me was over it was time for reality check. Some sane questions were presenting themselves. How do you go planning your first such trip? Where do you start? You obviously need to have at least a faint idea of where you wanna go. And how long can you be away? Where will the money for such an endeavour come from? What do you do upon returning? I was discussing most of these with my sister. And the ones I didn’t discuss with her I discussed with myself. The problem was my sister had all the right answers for me. Simple solutions to problems that were bigger in my head that they really were. As simple and brilliant that they were I just couldn’t accept them. There was still too much fear that I could not really pull it off. I wasn’t sure I am really made for harsh reality of solo travels. In short I was not ready yet and convinced myself it’s not the right time.
So instead of going on a grand year or two long trip I settled for quicker hops to Africa and strolls around Europe. It was not until my second visit to Mali in the space of tree months that things suddenly changed. And the best thing about the change was there was no apparent reason for it. I returned from my friends wedding in Bamako, Mali just to discover I was suffering one of the worst cases of post travel blues. One moment I was buying a new car and before I knew it the car was forgotten and all I was thinking was that my old car will have to take care of me for a few more years as I am spending that money for a trip. From there on everything was simple. Once the decision was made nothing seemed so complicated any more. Of course there were some compromises to be made. It ain’t gonna be a year long trip as maximum I could afford was four months. Which in turn made many places I have dreamt about to disappear from my list. They will have to wait for another opportunity.
From here on it was easy, really. Make a very broad list of friends, places and countries to visit. Arrangements in the office so that I have a job when I come back. Getting plane tickets. Break the news to family and friends. Wrap up the unfinished business in the office and in private life. Nothing is difficult once your mind is really set on pulling it off. And the best part is I am already enjoying it even though I am only setting sail on the new year’s eve.
