The apartment in St. Kilda where I lived for 3 months. On the sofas are Plato and Tess, the two dogs I shared the place with.
Inside The Pelican, a cafe/bar with wifi where I quickly established myself as a regular.
In a hammock-ish chair by a beach drinking coffee. 'Cause that's how I roll.
Sunset over St. Kilda. Until next time, Melbourne.
There...
A year ago, I told people I'd drift until I felt like stopping, but I told myself something different: a year on the road or bust. A year later and I'm still loving the freedom, but I've come to see the downsides, too. Christmas away from family was really hard. Saying goodbye to good people all the time is also really hard. Knowing I'll meet new good people in new places is cold comfort. I find myself wanting to pack my friends into my backpack and take them with me. When I planned this journey, I was obsessed with lifestyle, freedom, places, and technology. I never guessed that I would spend more time thinking about people than That Other Stuff. Look at that! I have heart.
That Other Stuff is important, too. It just turned out to be a lot simpler to be a nomad than I was expecting. In fact, it's been (almost) totally trouble free. Sure, I've had health issues and my laptop died, but those are small things. Take a bit of planning, add helpful and friendly locals, mix with a dash of winging it, shake and enjoy. Why don't more people do this?
... and Back Again
Now I'm back in the States, in the city I love, staying with the couch-surfers I made friends with over the summer. I've been gone long enough for American money to look funny. I forget to walk on the right side of sidewalks and run into people. Beer is suddenly twice as cheap. The coffee comes in enormous mugs. The Internet is free, pervasive, and very fast. People everywhere are obsessed with technology. (Blah, blah, blah, iPad, blah, blah.) But still, these are my people. I've never felt that before.
Funny the things you learn on the road.
