It has been a while since I was last able to write: first I had a big visitor in Cairo, and then, well, I left Cairo. It's not like I thought about it much but one day I got on a plane without a plan to come back, just like that. With the looming departure, my last month was the biggest roller coaster of emotions I have ever stepped foot in. Between utter peace and devastating heartbreak I have experienced the full range in the last month. Now, I am writing from my as-short-as-possible stay in Germany and the emotions I have in the morning vary from those at night, and I am all together lost as to where they will be at come tomorrow.
Of course, I'm also in Germany, publicly known as the worst spot for me in the world, but whoever wants to read a bash blog about how tremendously boring and uninteresting Germany is may simply scroll down because I wrote these blogs before I left to Egypt (or Scotland or the US, for that matter) and nothing has changed... at all. While I spent the last year of my life meeting diplomats and artists, the Germans surrounding me in this hole have watched a new mall being built. I can't find a way to describe how that can ever be exhilarating to anyone. Instead, I am going to try to describe always being in transit, and about how sucky that feels.
The last month in Egypt was, everyone guessed it, the best time: Ramadan was wonderful, I finally had a place and I was figuring out some feelings I had for a long time with a pretty happy temporary conclusion. It always rocks in the end, but I wasn't doubting my decision. I left last week being at peace with my break from Egypt. Most of my friends are leaving, as it is the case after Ramadan in Egypt every year, and some people staying and I needed some time apart. All in all, my Egyptian departure wasn't a bad idea. But with departure comes arrival somewhere else. Just because leaving Egypt wasn't a bad idea, arriving somewhere else can be. And while at first I wasn't considering my goodbye to be forever, it's becoming more and more likely in my heart that I will probably never go back. The constant changes of plans also means constant changes in feelings, and it wears ya out!
How I even got to leave Egypt makes no sense to me now. Retrospectively, of course, every moment rocked. That is one of the vices of living the Wanderlust: memories fool you and you'll always love it in the end. But I knew the time was right. I knew it wasn't and wasn't going to be home. I knew that there was more to explore out there. Thinking the world is my oyster made me feel positive about the future; a feeling that Germany erases as quickly as possible. I still have that faith that everything is going to be alright, but the uncertainty and adventure I choose to live with is stressing me out despite choosing that life and having all my positivity. I'm in Germany now, in Macedonia next month, and God knows where the month after. Some people envy this freedom, but it's not all together pleasant.
Not having a home means you have the feelings of homesickness just with no place to link it to. Not having a home means that when things go terribly wrong, I have no retreat. My "home" in Germany is the worst possible place for me which makes everything worse, so I glide from place to place, desperately looking to receive some love from one that will be able to have me, waiting for something to come along that will make it stick. This constant moving is fun and interesting, but exhausting to say the very least. Waking up thinking "Anything could happen" unfortunately includes the possibility of being robbed and stabbed just as well as meeting the love of my life. All my days could be extraordinary but they could also be devastating.
Some people would call it adventurous, I call it lost. I envy all my friends who never made that "mistake" of exploring. They have money, boyfriends and girlfriends who are within a radius of a few miles and their own furniture. I can't even have these things if I tried with my lifestyle. Nobody could be more broke than me and Mamma shrieks at the term "long-distance relationship". If I buy something, I'll have to worry about how to fit it in a suitcase sooner or later. Granted, my life is probably ten times as exciting but it's also unstable and unpredictable. And I'm a small little kitten that just wants some security at some point, too. But no, not now, I can't have it. I gotta keep moving in order to even find a place where I could cuddle up eventually cause so far no place has asked me to stay. Maybe one day...
Of course, I'm also in Germany, publicly known as the worst spot for me in the world, but whoever wants to read a bash blog about how tremendously boring and uninteresting Germany is may simply scroll down because I wrote these blogs before I left to Egypt (or Scotland or the US, for that matter) and nothing has changed... at all. While I spent the last year of my life meeting diplomats and artists, the Germans surrounding me in this hole have watched a new mall being built. I can't find a way to describe how that can ever be exhilarating to anyone. Instead, I am going to try to describe always being in transit, and about how sucky that feels.
The last month in Egypt was, everyone guessed it, the best time: Ramadan was wonderful, I finally had a place and I was figuring out some feelings I had for a long time with a pretty happy temporary conclusion. It always rocks in the end, but I wasn't doubting my decision. I left last week being at peace with my break from Egypt. Most of my friends are leaving, as it is the case after Ramadan in Egypt every year, and some people staying and I needed some time apart. All in all, my Egyptian departure wasn't a bad idea. But with departure comes arrival somewhere else. Just because leaving Egypt wasn't a bad idea, arriving somewhere else can be. And while at first I wasn't considering my goodbye to be forever, it's becoming more and more likely in my heart that I will probably never go back. The constant changes of plans also means constant changes in feelings, and it wears ya out!
How I even got to leave Egypt makes no sense to me now. Retrospectively, of course, every moment rocked. That is one of the vices of living the Wanderlust: memories fool you and you'll always love it in the end. But I knew the time was right. I knew it wasn't and wasn't going to be home. I knew that there was more to explore out there. Thinking the world is my oyster made me feel positive about the future; a feeling that Germany erases as quickly as possible. I still have that faith that everything is going to be alright, but the uncertainty and adventure I choose to live with is stressing me out despite choosing that life and having all my positivity. I'm in Germany now, in Macedonia next month, and God knows where the month after. Some people envy this freedom, but it's not all together pleasant.
Not having a home means you have the feelings of homesickness just with no place to link it to. Not having a home means that when things go terribly wrong, I have no retreat. My "home" in Germany is the worst possible place for me which makes everything worse, so I glide from place to place, desperately looking to receive some love from one that will be able to have me, waiting for something to come along that will make it stick. This constant moving is fun and interesting, but exhausting to say the very least. Waking up thinking "Anything could happen" unfortunately includes the possibility of being robbed and stabbed just as well as meeting the love of my life. All my days could be extraordinary but they could also be devastating.
Some people would call it adventurous, I call it lost. I envy all my friends who never made that "mistake" of exploring. They have money, boyfriends and girlfriends who are within a radius of a few miles and their own furniture. I can't even have these things if I tried with my lifestyle. Nobody could be more broke than me and Mamma shrieks at the term "long-distance relationship". If I buy something, I'll have to worry about how to fit it in a suitcase sooner or later. Granted, my life is probably ten times as exciting but it's also unstable and unpredictable. And I'm a small little kitten that just wants some security at some point, too. But no, not now, I can't have it. I gotta keep moving in order to even find a place where I could cuddle up eventually cause so far no place has asked me to stay. Maybe one day...
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