Being a traveller for 10 weeks changes a lot of things in life. First, I start to forget things. I forget the name of the motel I'm staying at, certainly the roomnumber. I'm starting to forget to take my stuff whenever I leave, such as my flashlight. I forget where I took that beautiful picture or the name of the town I slept in last night. Then, the things I worry about become more and more trivial. I get annoyed when I can't find my socks in my backpack, when my pictures won't upload on this blog, when I can't figure out which direction to drive in.
Third, I start to get bored. Bored by doing the same things over and over again, such as driving into another town and trying to find all its important landmarks; restaurants, post office, supermarket, motel. Bored by the sameness of all the motels (and elated when there's something new; we nearly got ecstatic when we found out that there was a horse in our backyard once), bored by the conversations of people who want to know where I'm from and where I'm going.
And then I feel guilty for being bored, or irritated, or upset. Because look at this place! How can you ever get tired of all this? But I decided to find a way out of this dilemma. Maybe it is actually good for me to be bored for a change. To have the privilige of fussing over trivial things. And isn't the boredom and frustration only the space in between the big periods of being stunned from all of this?
And then I catch myself thinking too much about all of it and I try to stop and do nothing but watch it all float by, watch this world move and me being in it, without the weight of a business on my back and all of it feels light and how can you do anything but look at that and smile?
Being a traveller for 10 weeks changes a lot of things in life. First, I start to forget things. I forget the name of the motel I'm staying at, certainly the roomnumber. I'm starting to forget to take my stuff whenever I leave, such as my flashlight. I forget where I took that beautiful picture or the name of the town I slept in last night. Then, the things I worry about become more and more trivial. I get annoyed when I can't find my socks in my backpack, when my pictures won't upload on this blog, when I can't figure out which direction to drive in.
Third, I start to get bored. Bored by doing the same things over and over again, such as driving into another town and trying to find all its important landmarks; restaurants, post office, supermarket, motel. Bored by the sameness of all the motels (and elated when there's something new; we nearly got ecstatic when we found out that there was a horse in our backyard once), bored by the conversations of people who want to know where I'm from and where I'm going.
And then I feel guilty for being bored, or irritated, or upset. Because look at this place! How can you ever get tired of all this? But I decided to find a way out of this dilemma. Maybe it is actually good for me to be bored for a change. To have the privilige of fussing over trivial things. And isn't the boredom and frustration only the space in between the big periods of being stunned from all of this?
And then I catch myself thinking too much about all of it and I try to stop and do nothing but watch it all float by, watch this world move and me being in it, without the weight of a business on my back and all of it feels light and how can you do anything but look at that and smile?
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