Plane Ride Blues
Jàmm rekk — Peace only, peace only, peace only.
Exactly what I wanted to feel and what I tried to harness during the bittersweet reconciliation of the end of my 6 month stretch of nomadic affairs.
Trying to wrap my head around the fact that half a year had gone by in this way: trekking around half aimlessly, hostel to hostel, volunteering/work exchanges, little to no plan or itinerary, with a 40 liter backpack as the only constant comrade to my intrepid spirit.
This reconciliation commenced on my 10 hour plane ride back home…
And we all know that plane rides serve as the perfect interim for long bouts of sulking and contemplation, so that is exactly what I did.
I nestled into my seat as comfortably as I could with the provided pre-packaged blanket and compact pillow, turned up my most heart-wrenching playlist, stared sullenly out the plane window, and let the wispy clouds beyond it lure me into a reflective montage of some of my most cherished scenes:
Hiking the pastel-painted mountain sides of rural Albania, sipping the velvety wines cultivated from Florence vineyard grapes, unabashedly dancing in Barcelona & Berlin’s pulsating techno clubs, gazing over the Cappadocia rocky valley as a colony of hot air balloons ascends alongside the fiery sunrise, the euphoria of catching my first ever wave while learning to surf in Morocco, hitching random rides with strangers in an ultimate mission to cross the African Sahara.. and much more, all circulating, bittersweetly, through my mind.
View of Albanian mountains at the summit, after hiking from the city of Valbone to the city of Theth (about 20 km)
Albania- The most gorgeous time to be in the mountains- the beginning of fall. The colors!!
Florence vineyard
Hot air balloons firing up to rise into the sky in Cappadocia Valley, Turkey.
View from Park Güell in Barcelona, Gaudi architecture
Budapest!
Vienna was one of the most stunning cities I’ve ever seen
Sentimentality:
Although I was sufficiently ready and excited to be back home, I still couldn’t tame this heavy restlessness of grief consuming me.
A grievance for all of the people and relationships that touched me so deeply that I knew were always going to be fleeting. I was now flying away from all of those people and relationships, forming a continental divide.
My heart was having a hard time handling it.
Because while it was undoubtedly an amazing experience and huge privilege to see all of these “dream” destinations, the thing I am truly forever grateful for, is the exposure to so many cool, wonderful, and inspiring people.
I am also grateful for the ways in which I grew with my perspective on traveling— learning how to travel with deeper intention and engagement, to enable the greatest learning and cultural connection (more on this later).
But, because I am a sentimental person to my core, I still felt painful yearning in my heart.
The amount of love and connection that this huge gracious world had brought into my life during that 6 month period was SO abundant, it was almost cruel. Cruel because I forged these connections that were so beautiful, and that I ultimately had to part from.
Yet that is just one of the life’s most tragic promises (and something travel LOVES to reminds you of)— people come and go, phases start and end, and time will always be a persisting, unforgiving force, that tantalizes the daydreamer with glimpses of the unreachable past. Ouch, it always stings me a bit.
Life is often my good friend, but Time is a ruthless b****.
So I stayed in this tantalizing transfixion of all the memories I collected with some dope a$$ people, and let my head roam freely through the clouds one last time before its ultimate descent back down to earth.
In doing so, I clung on to every semblance of peace that washed over me brought by the immense gratitude to have lived it all. Jàmm rekk, jàmm rekk, jàmm rekk.