Another rather uneventful weekend just passed, though with it comes a new-found sense of determination.
A determination and much motivation towards somehow, somehow finding my way abroad. And aside from the obvious fact that I need a vacation, not just for my nomad soul but for my overall state of health, I just need some inspiration and to be somewhere else, somewhere new. And it’s already June. June. Halfway through the year. And this is a time when people around me are beginning to prepare themselves for jetting off across the seas to more prosperous lands. Both friends and family alike are leaving for warmer pastures soon and I can’t tell you how envious I am of them all. And just how much I wish it were I planning such a vacation. Not just visually packing a suitcase, but physically stuffing one with things I’ll need and won’t use.
Yesterday a family friend of ours and a close friend of yours Maria came over. And I hadn’t realised just how far we’d actually come into the year then when I saw her. She’d been invited over because she leaves for Europe in less than two weeks. And she travels overseas every year – that is nothing new, but something about her visit put things into perspective for me. And in a bit of panic too. I guess pieces just clicked into place like they hadn’t really before. At least, in a very long time anyway. But the predominant note was that I have to travel.
And travel soon.
I still have this grand vision of a European getaway, much like last years ambitions. Hitting up the usual sights and scenes in countries like London, France and Spain. I fantasize a getaway; alone or perhaps with my cousins – both cousins at that. Just roadtripping our way around in a convertible, roof down with the salt in the air striking our elated faces. Laughing over my silliness as it makes its famous apperance when I’m around those two. Eating our weights worth in carbs and ice cream to be followed up with boozing through the nights, much like last years dream I guess. The only difference is that my cousins have no immediate plans for travel, at least for this year anyway and I think I’m still living in gaga-land. Hoping and wishing for something that’s slipped past. But it feels like the Universe has given me the go ahead – even though it feels that way every time I get an inkling, I think there is a change about in the air and I think I might even feel it at that. At least I hope so anyway.
But to dream and dream big like this? Again?
So what? If it doesn’t pan out I’ll be upset sure, but what if there truly is a possibility that I’ll make it somehow? Like actually do this? And this hasn’t been something I’ve been loudly broadcasting either so if I fail, it’s really only you and the Internets who’ll know of my misadventure. And maybe that could mean I won’t jinx myself into a mess either, but overall, at least I know I tried.
That possibility that I’ll be shoving my overpacked case into an overhead compartment and being greeted by another in a language other than the english my ears are so accustomed to is thrilling. And knowing that our family friend will be there too, knowing that if I make it I have every chance of seeing the Mediterranean coast through the eyes of a local makes me ever so eager. I have to find a way to get over to that other side of the globe. I don’t know how. Truthfully, I have no bloody idea as to how I’ll manage to get over there but where there is a will, there is always a way. And I am holding onto that. Fiercely holding onto that. That vision of cobblestone streets and sun-kissed skin. Of that lingering smell of caffeine in the air and toothy smiles out on the streets. Of locals frantically vying for your attentions and ancient architectural wonders to behold and explore! I don’t know how, but I will get there in the next few weeks. And if I hold onto that vision that who knows.
Kismet happens right?