Was this morning only 12 hours ago? Only one days worth of sun? And 6 of those hours were spent aboard a bus, slowly making my way to the southern corner of this charming little country.
I can still feel myself finding my feet. Still feel this life seeping back into me. In some ways it feels like a parallel universe. In others, it feels like the only universe that’s ever existed.
I booked myself into a shared room in a hostel, because it was cheap and seemed like maybe it would be a good idea. It’s been… an adaptation. I think, realistically, I was past hostels before I ever even really started staying in them. On my own, at least. They’re places I wish I felt comfortable even though I seldom do. It’s a very particular space and vibe that ends up resonating. But it does happen, I guess. Columbia and Bali. Eventually in Melbourne. But those were the people. The outliers.
I found myself feeling old and (self-imposedly) judged almost instantly in this space. Like somehow I’d never be “cool enough” for the “real” backpackers. Which is as insane as it sounds. I know it’s not real, but it’s still created an aversion to the space that’s found me sitting in a restaurant at 9pm on day 26 of my Whole30, eating rice and soy and drinking sangria. Indulgence and celebration, or reckless abandon?
I want to believe my mind and body will feel clear and well tomorrow, but we’ll see. It was a bold way to re-enter this realm of life, but here I am. I can always go back to a puritan life tomorrow if it seems to suit. I could let myself spiral in regretful wonderment of if this was a mistake, or I could enjoy the second glass of sangria and trust the choices I’ve made, and trust I’ll learn from mistakes if I’ve made them.
The unexpected (re)discovery of this (second) dinner, is far and away the eavesdropping on the conversations around me. The overpowering American accents making references to “Friends” and pressuring others to drink more and making jokes about “cutting someone off” if they spill a drink. Always the loudest at the table.
Even thousands of miles away, I’ve found us. All of the things about us that I find grating and taxing and performative.