i read in an article that if you really want to be a global citizen or any of that
other millennial bullshit, it’s not enough to fill a backpack with cotton t-shirts,
extra underwear and adventure all those photogenic places
just to check them out of the cool-corners bucket list and spit some
adventure travel stories once you’re back home with those people
who are still living under their parents’ roof.
that’s too easy, and smooth things never made good stories.
so go ahead, close your eyes, pick a country and move there.
go through the struggle of applying for a visa, surf web pages looking for a place
to call home for a while, spend the first weeks going to bars and keep your fingers crossed
people will make conversation with you.
get out there and blow that expat bubble. experience what it really feels like
to be the new kid in the place, learn a different language, get used to flavours
that aren't familiar and explore the world.
and I’m not talking about renting villas in south-east asia
and taking photos of smoothie bowls (and I’m a big fan of smoothie bowls).
challenge yourself. you’ll be surprised how good you can be at life starting from scratch.
you just have to give it a shot.
and if it doesn’t work out, if the country doesn’t suit your taste in people,
if the morning sky is too gray or if who you share your nights with doesn’t fit your dreams,
then pack your things and start again.
nobody ever regretted experimenting with life.
it’s liberating knowing that it’s okay to go wrong.
i’m not sure if it’s because of the fresh air, for my tired legs or the lack of sleep.
nor i’m sure if this whole idea i like to mold in my head of getting free from
what keeps me anchored in a place is what keeps me moving or what makes me question
all things i thought clear.
but if there’s something i’m pretty sure of is that there’s nothing more terrifying
than forgetting how good it feels to get in the car and wander until the landscape
is well lit, grab a bottle of wine and let the flow of things wash away all heavy thoughts
on your chest.
so that’s what i did. when days started to look alike, flavor of the month turning
into flavor of the season, and all weeks being already written down by someone else,
unable to find things to feed my thoughts with, i got on the ferry and got lost
in unpaved streets and unknown faces. and what i found was nothing but familiarity.
because you won’t remember those days spent with your ass glued to an uncomfortable chair,
those small talks in the elevator or the weekly grocery list you haven't changed in weeks.
you’ll remember those late nights betting with life, unplanned trips, short night sleeps
and random combinations of time, words and coincidence.
what I’m saying is that it’s not boring to settle, to turn a house into a home
and follow a balanced diet of daily rituals and people.
only don’t forget how nice it is to listen to what your guts whisper,
no matter if people around you will nod at that or turn that into the topic of the week
at their aperitifs.