4 months on the road: I hope I never forget how this feels

I am sitting on a tour bus. The kind with big windows that can be opened when it’s sunny to take in the views.

Today it’s not sunny. It’s raining and windy. But someone has opened one of the windows anyway.

“I don’t like people who open windows,” a woman says loudly to her husband.

Does she think they are the only people who speak English on this bus? She might. But she is wrong. People always speak English when you wish they didn’t.

The window-opening woman turns around. “I want to see the view.” She smiles. The wind is whipping her hair. The rain is kissing her face.

The other woman is angry. She makes a big show of switching seats with her husband.

I am on an island where where people go on vacation.

People on vacation are busy all the time. They drink too much. They eat too much. They stay up late. They spend a lot of money.

Worst of all, they want everything to be perfect.

I am at the end of my four month solo trip. I have long ago stopped being on vacation. Things like rain and wind no longer really bother me. Sometimes it rains. Sometimes it’s sunny. It comes and it goes.

Before I left on this trip, things bothered me all the time. I was always rushing. Over-committed. Anxious. I wanted everything to be perfect.

I have come to accept that things are not perfect. Not on vacation. Not even when you’re travelling.

Today I stayed in the most amazing hostel. There was a quiet garden where I sat and wrote. Pumpkin jam at breakfast. Fluffy white towels. A week ago, I stayed a noisy place. The blankets were scratchy and smelled like sweat.

It doesn’t matter. Tomorrow I’ll be somewhere else.

I wonder if I will get to stay this way after I got home. Will I look at my apartment’s cobwebs and the chipped paint with the same non-attachment? How about the fireplace and my comfy bed? Can I be not too attached to those too?

I hope that I never forget how this feels.

One of the worst things about travelling is that you leave pieces of your heart all over the world. I am not just talking about loving the Eiffel Tower.

People. Dear friends that you stayed up watching the stars with. A loved one who chased waterfalls with you. People you will probably never see again, but who meant everything to you.

I go home in three days. I really want to go home. I can only stand having people come and go so often. People are not like rain and sun. Blankets and towels.

I miss being around people that know me. People who love me. People that don’t have a flight to catch.

I hope that I never forget how this feels.