“Very nice that blog about traveling, leaving your home, and entering the great unknown,” a friend says to me, “yet you only go to places where you’ve already been.”
Erh, yea… I’ve swallowed my tongue. “That is true,” is my questionable answer. Oi, I’ve just been efficiently swept off my first small Blog-feet, well before I even left the house. Why did I started this in the first place? “It is more about being away from home” I try to no avail.
Fortunately – the rest of the day I don’t think about his remark anymore. Until I am making myself a fried egg as an easy meal. Randomly my thoughts head to Lelystad, my place of birth. The first part of my trip I am forced to stay in The Netherlands for work. So let’s head back to mum and dad to find my shelter. Easy does it. So actually I am heading back to my roots, my random thoughts continue, where the foundation was built.
I am rooted to the spot! Suddenly there is a pattern, a story, a connection – my writing practices obviously have been fruitful. I am starting to see stories and meaning in anything! -.
It’s true. He is right. I will travel to places that are familiar to me. The Netherlands, France and England. I’ve been there before. I love to go there, I know it well. And they all mean something to me. My practical plans appear to be super chronological in some kind od meta-sense of the word. A trip along my own life in three months. Just like Scrooge I visit my past, present and possible future to learn something about myself and the world. Flash boom! I’ve ended up in my own summer version of Dicken’s A Christmas Carol. It scares me… Can’t I just go on a fun holiday?
Erh, nay… The journey already started long time ago.