Whenever it is I sit down and talk with someone about travelling, the question always pops up: “what’s the __________ that’s happened/you’ve been to/seen, etc. For a moment i’m stumped, staring off into oblivion while trying to come up with something – something that I think they want to hear. Because when someone goes off into the big bad world, they must get up to all sorts of crazy shenanigans… At least that’s how so many books and movies represent such things. Granted, there are many who have insane stories to tell, but for me… I’ve thought about it, pondered over the spent months, and i’ve come to a simple conclusion, really.
It’s everything. Hah, yes, anti-climatic. But it truly is, in a way. “The little things” is a saying myself and my two travelling comrades muttered every once in a while when we hit that perfect cozy-zone, where everything feels alright in that second, minute, hour… It’s that feeling of the sun hitting us as we prepared our beach-side meals on one of the beaches we bummed around on, or bushwacking around the old sanitarium near Volos and finding that perfect tasty mushroom (no not the magic ones, though those were found as well), and it’s the feeling of finding that perfect hitchhiking spot; preferably with a nice view. Hell, even the arguments (oh and there were quite a few!) I look back on and smile at.
When it comes to the most surreal, the “wow, that did happen, didn’t it?” moments, I suppose the topper would have been the riots in Sofia. I’ve never really been in a protest, much less one that turned into a fully-fledged riot, where I found myself sitting in front of a bus of fleeing politicians as chunks of concrete sailed through the air and police smashed the skulls of whoever was close. But spontaneously climbing to the top of Romania with two people who picked me up certainly ripped me out of my hitchhiker bubble..
The latest event of note is, of course, being robbed. Needless to say the event pops into my head frequently, though whereas some people might say “move on, it’s over!” I don’t believe that is the healthy thing, at least not for me. I have to analyze things, pick them apart, and reflect on what things mean to me before I just trot on off down that there trail of life.
I realized that I don’t hold any anger for the two guys that took my stuff. At the moment it happened, I actually felt nothing, really. Perhaps confusion. But no anger, or even fear. It just was. After they left, the shock hit me,and as I scurried through the streets looking for police, I now think I made myself feel sad and despaired… I think I felt that it was “right” to feel like that, that that was the normal thing to feel… But anyone who knows me sure as hell knows i’m not normal. Hah! It was strange, truly, especially coming from such an emotional and especially angry teenager. A couple of days later I came to realize I just felt sorry for the two guys, having to go to those extremes, to shoving a knife into someones face, just for some money. I laughed, and despaired at the world. But I thought that if I saw these two, I might just laugh and shrug (not that I would recognize them!)… In the end, I learned someting about where my mind is, and how I have developed. It was a verification of the work I have done to transcend these things that plagued me for so many years. Cool.
Looking back over everyting I have been through so far, I couldn’t rightly say how much I have changed, however. So much has happened, and I wonder how differen’t I will seem once I touch back down in the homeland. Though everyone changes, and nothing is permanent, i’ve always been a fan of the “what-if” scenarios.