Dirty Feet, Books, & Snuggles

I have been very fortunate - very blessed - to have had the opportunity to stay with my family in a beautifully grand home where I am not in want for a single comfort. It has provided me the opportunity to save some money at the beginning of my trip, and has given me an altogether incredibly consistent routine. I go to bed at nearly the same time every day, and likewise rise around the same time every morning, always getting at least 8 hours of sleep. Sometimes ten. I only have to pay for my transportation - sometimes - and for my lunches. Also - sometimes. There is always someone who knows my whereabouts, what my plans are for the day, how I enjoyed my day at the end of it, and how I slept. I’ve watched many movies and not one time by myself. I have had an amazing amount of time to focus on taking care of my body via exercise and yoga, and have had time left over for writing and socializing with new-found friends. I wake up in a room to myself to a sunny view of Botany Bay every day, and go to sleep listening to the wind in trees and the bats that live in them. (Yes, bats. They’re everywhere! They love figs.) For all of these things, I am incredibly grateful.

However…

I’m ready to be in a place where I’m unsure of my surroundings, where perhaps the shower isn’t always hot, where I have to clean my clothes in the same place I clean my body, where I am an exciting, new stranger to everyone. I want to live out of my backpack for awhile, wearing the same five outfits week in and week out. I want to run out of shampoo and have to borrow someone else’s. I want to be unsure of where my next meal is coming from. I want to go to bed with dirty, tired feet that have traveled far and made amazing discoveries along the way. And I want this bed to be a bunk bed, sharing a room with other bunk beds; bunk beds that are full of other exciting, new strangers with dirty, tired feet. People with stories to tell, who’s stories make me feel like a novice traveller. People who are only sure of the importance of love and life experience, and are unsure of everything else, even their next step. It is these people whom I feel I belong with… They are people without belonging. People who are free of that desirous attachment that anchors so many of us in one place. People who, by letting go, have found that which they want to hold onto the most; that which they want to live for.

This is just what I want for my travels. For when I return to Portland… I want to have a varied schedule. One that is consistently unpredictable and keeps me on my toes. One where I have to be crafty to get my yoga sessions in. I want to work dayshift, so at least my sleep borders on normal… At this point I am eager for a lil studio apartment all to myself. A place of rest where I am surrounded by art and books and color and light. I desire nothing in excess; I long for simplicity. So much of what we need in life is not tangible, and those things that are, are fairly straightforward. Food, water, shelter - a warm place to lay your head. These are rights and also privileges, and anything else is an added blessing. With these basic things, and my loved ones close by, I cannot think of a single, extra thing that I would be in need of.