I loved traveling but I won’t lie and say that every time I was greeted by a view of different mountains my heart ached just a little for the safe feeling of being surrounded by the coast range constantly visible at home in Vancouver.
There’s a lot I could write about “growth”. I’m just not sure yet what’s real to stay and what I will leave behind as part of the traveler. I thought I would get rid of all my stuff the second i got back, that after traveling for 5-whatever-months with only 4 shirts and a few pairs of pants would break all attachment to peoples strange obsession with things. Weirdly not, I still like things but I guess I look at the stuff I have a little differently. What we posses and treasure can be a way to remind ourselves of who we’ve been; I like that. Memories fade so quickly: after being home a bit more then two weeks the beginning of my trip could almost be a dream and the last weeks (and sun) are quickly seeping away. (Also my hair is fading despite all efforts)
So what else to say? I’m not a different person; I think i’m more at home as the person I’ve always been. Despite being home I’ve decided I will not stop traveling and will instead travel as much as I can in my own city. Last week I went on a Vancouver walking tour to try and soak up some history about the “lost souls of Vancouver” (Halloween guys). I’m looking forward to taking advantage of sunny days for mid-winter walks in the forest, discovering some new breweries, art and graffiti along with visiting some touristy marvels like the Capilano suspension bridge for the first time.
On the other hand, publishing this, my final post about my travels has taken a lot longer then necessary.. there must be a part of me that still isn’t ready to leave my travels to be eaten up by the past.