Why is it so hard, after having such a good time, to return to home base? There’s that terrible feeling you get when you leave Bangkok or Hong Kong or Singapore and you know there’s another 11 or so hours flying before you are home. It’s not just the distance but the leaving behind of opportunity. The return to the humdrum.
Well this time I also had a marvellous dose of jet lag to contend with, a fabulous case of cross cultural/internet/cross continent romance and the work humdrums. That’s without even mentioning the weather. Back for 30 days and 20 at least have been wet. Maybe 25. Oh, and full blown nicotine addiction. Perhaps best exemplified by my voluble string of curses when I arrived in Sydney, only to be told it was a non-smoking airport. Hmmmm that little voice kept saying “Calm down, be nice. You’ve developed an addiction”. Yay!
People have been warm, welcoming, loving, kind, gracious and helpful. I just want to sob all day. For ever.
Why is it so hard to come back? Fewer people, more space, people we love, fabulous gardens, spacious houses, greenness, sea, familiarity. But an overwhelming sense of isolation. From each other. From the world. And yes, it’s no worse than living in an apartment in a huge lonely city in Europe. As millions of people do.
Sigh. I’ll get over myself one day. And yes maybe I shouldn’t publish this. But. I guess I will.
The pic? An arty shot I took in Ischaia at a castle I climbed to. And to be honest it wasn’t such a fun day – very hot, hard work climbing and the exit seemed to never quite be where the sign said it was. But it was a new experience. The view was spectacular and the chamber of horrors/torture ….well. Interesting. And the gelato I had when I finally found my way out. Exquisite!