I'm sitting in my thermals in the hostel common room with some B grade Israeli Idol singing on the TV as I type into my phone. It's quite cold. I'm not in the most inspiring or original or historical city. But I'm happy. Content may be a better word. I've had a nice couple of days wandering through Tel Aviv, drinking with locals, eating Shakshuka for breakfast, discovering the city of Nazareth and staying in a hostel with a Yank and a Pom.
It's not like I've been buzzing at every corner I walk. Or like I'm discovering new things about the world and myself everywhere I go. It's been much more like ordinary life. It's taken me a while to get to this stage, but I feel like I'm in a good state of mind where each day is just another day, I just happen to be in a different city and culture.
I've felt pressure on this trip from myself for every day to change me. For every day to amaze me and inspire me. But like many before me have realised when they are abroad...
I'm still me.
It's kind of disappointing, but also settling to find this.
I mean I've always known it, but I guess I just know it a little more now.
I still get hungry. Tired. I'm still stingy. I get grumpy and wish to be isolated. I get lonely. I get excited. I really enjoy a good meal. I like to walk. I like to drive (or more sit on a bus, still it's kind of similiar i'm just not doing any of the driving) but I get restless when I drive for too long. A sunset is still beautiful. Views of endless mountains and deserts give me that warm comforting feeling of just how small I am, but how largely I am loved. I miss home. I know i'm going to miss traveling once I get home. I like feeling anonymous and introverted. I get urges to do something wild and irresponsible. I smell when I don't wash. I wake when I'm too hot. 4 beers still makes me tipsy. A gorgeous girl still stops me in my tracks. A dismissive look makes me feel small. A smile puts a spring in my step.
As I arrived in my hostel I sat next to a German guy who kindly offered me some pita bread and hummus. Yum. We got along really easily. Conversation flowed. We understood each others jokes. We went for a discovery walk around the streets of Eilat and ate ice cream as we got to know each other and the town we had both arrived in on the same night. The tacky fair lights mixed with strategically planted palms and the quirks of a place made obviously for tourists and no one else seemed funnier having someone to laugh with. Real laughter is great by yourself, but it's much rarer to laugh on your own than when you're with company.
So even though I'm cold and I don't really know what tomorrow will bring, and the Israeli idol is singing out of key. I feel really content just sitting here typing. I imagine what people must think of the weirdo in the drafty cold indoor-outdoor common area in his weird pyjamas typing into a phone. (This keyboard attaches via bluetooth to my phone so it often looks like I am just typing on a keyboard with no screen. I've been questioned and looked at with cynical inquisitive eyes more than once). It makes me laugh on the inside, and it would make me laugh on the inside if I was doing this at home.
It seems that I'm quite the same person wherever I am. And that's actually pretty comforting to me.
It's not like I've been buzzing at every corner I walk. Or like I'm discovering new things about the world and myself everywhere I go. It's been much more like ordinary life. It's taken me a while to get to this stage, but I feel like I'm in a good state of mind where each day is just another day, I just happen to be in a different city and culture.
I've felt pressure on this trip from myself for every day to change me. For every day to amaze me and inspire me. But like many before me have realised when they are abroad...
I'm still me.
It's kind of disappointing, but also settling to find this.
I mean I've always known it, but I guess I just know it a little more now.
I still get hungry. Tired. I'm still stingy. I get grumpy and wish to be isolated. I get lonely. I get excited. I really enjoy a good meal. I like to walk. I like to drive (or more sit on a bus, still it's kind of similiar i'm just not doing any of the driving) but I get restless when I drive for too long. A sunset is still beautiful. Views of endless mountains and deserts give me that warm comforting feeling of just how small I am, but how largely I am loved. I miss home. I know i'm going to miss traveling once I get home. I like feeling anonymous and introverted. I get urges to do something wild and irresponsible. I smell when I don't wash. I wake when I'm too hot. 4 beers still makes me tipsy. A gorgeous girl still stops me in my tracks. A dismissive look makes me feel small. A smile puts a spring in my step.
As I arrived in my hostel I sat next to a German guy who kindly offered me some pita bread and hummus. Yum. We got along really easily. Conversation flowed. We understood each others jokes. We went for a discovery walk around the streets of Eilat and ate ice cream as we got to know each other and the town we had both arrived in on the same night. The tacky fair lights mixed with strategically planted palms and the quirks of a place made obviously for tourists and no one else seemed funnier having someone to laugh with. Real laughter is great by yourself, but it's much rarer to laugh on your own than when you're with company.
So even though I'm cold and I don't really know what tomorrow will bring, and the Israeli idol is singing out of key. I feel really content just sitting here typing. I imagine what people must think of the weirdo in the drafty cold indoor-outdoor common area in his weird pyjamas typing into a phone. (This keyboard attaches via bluetooth to my phone so it often looks like I am just typing on a keyboard with no screen. I've been questioned and looked at with cynical inquisitive eyes more than once). It makes me laugh on the inside, and it would make me laugh on the inside if I was doing this at home.
It seems that I'm quite the same person wherever I am. And that's actually pretty comforting to me.
Hey mate, Rach alerted me of this blog. I just read it all. I love it. Thank you for writing from your heart. And thank you for including us on your journey, not just your travels. It’s inspiring. Take care of yourself, Josh.
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