I feel like it's been a minute since I wrote a more personal blog post (AKA months already - phew!) and now is as good a time as any. I also feel like it's a good time since I have had a roller coaster of emotion over the past two weeks. I will do my best to bring you all in on it and explain myself properly.
To start - I left Canada on my indeterminate trip to Europe (and beyond) on the eighth of January, following closely after my trip up the Sunshine Coast from my last post. I flew to London, England, and after a quick 30 hours there I flew to Morocco for a group tour. Ten days later I flew back to London, spent three nights there and traveled to a remote village in Scotland called Corran where I am now. Now that you're loosely caught up, let's talk feelings.
So, first of all, undertaking a trip like this as a whole isn't easy. Gathering up the courage to move your butt across the planet alone into the unknown is not a normal thing to do. There is no precedent, and there's no guidebook on how to do it. I think I have been afraid to say that it isn't easy granted that I look like I've won the lottery in the eyes of others, but to be fair to myself it took a hell of a lot of bravery. Most folks wouldn't jump into the unknown like this because it's scary, unpredictable and kind of insane. I chose to embrace the insane to look for something in myself I couldn't find at home, but it's been all but a comfortable experience.
When I first left Canada, I really didn't feel much of anything. Excitement was cancelled out by nerves I think, and the whole scenario just felt hard to process. I essentially cancelled my normal life in Canada and threw a few things in a suitcase to tote around the planet. I said goodbye to all of my friends and family and to security, not really believing I wouldn't see them for an unknown amount of time. I just had saucers for eyes and went along with the motions of what I remember from leaving for my study abroad in 2017 was like, although this felt a lot different.
Going through the airport in Vancouver was all relatively normal, again I know what it's like to navigate one so that was all there was to it. Once I got to London though, I started to feel the weight of the choice to go on a solo adventure and call it a new life. I was in a forced digital detox as I had to wait until after Morocco to get my phone plan sorted out, something which will become important in a moment. I had a big suitcase to lug around as well, not always the easiest when there isn't an elevator in sight but rather just flights after flights of stairs. Even then, that's all relatively normal when you're on the move. More to the point, it came time for me to leave London for Morocco. Still completely out of sorts with the time change and anxious for my upcoming journey, I didn't sleep a wink. To be fair, my flight was at 6 am out of Stansted airport, so I had to wake up around 2 am and start my trek. Note to self - ALWAYS trust your gut feelings and NEVER fly at that time. There was a reason I was so anxious, I think.
I left my friend's home in London to catch the bus down the street - I knew exactly where I was going to since I had obsessed over the Google Maps route to Stansted all night already. The first leg of the journey was relatively smooth, getting me to the stop where I was to get off and change buses to get to the airport. This is about 2:30 am. I got off the first bus and walked around the corner to the second stop, where I was supposed to catch my second (and final) bus. I paced in the cold and dark until the bus was intended to show up, keeping in mind that I am a woman alone in a questionable part of London. I waited and waited checking the clock every minute, until the time when my bus was to arrive came and went. At this point, my stomach was in my feet, I was cold and I had no way of communicating with anyone (returning to the point about the no phone plan). I had pretty well accepted that the bus wasn't coming. What is there to do but pump myself up with some self talk (something I've been doing a lot lately, since I am alone in my head most of the time) and think about what my options are. The one and only option I could think of was to catch a cab about ten minutes after my bus was supposed to arrive, so I started walking to a more central road where I had seen a couple pass by in the time I had been at the bus stop. It took me at least another ten minutes until I saw an active cab passing by, ten minutes which felt like an eternity at this point. I flagged him down and started to feel a bit more at ease, until he informed me that he wouldn't be able to take me to the airport after all. He did tell me however that he was sure someone else would be willing to. This was just about the worst news I could receive at this point, but waiting until another cab came by was again my only option. Thankfully, within the next five minutes or so I saw another active cab and I jogged to flag him down. This fellow took me to the airport, but not without having all the windows down (it's January, remember) and my adrenaline is going so wild that I am getting those weird shakes already in addition to freezing my butt off. Oh, he also had headphones in so he couldn't hear my pleas to roll up the windows. ₤150 later (about $270) I made it to Stansted airport... the driver also taking the long way around, I might add. I was freezing and feeling pretty down in the dumps at this point, and the whole trip was definitely feeling like a bit of a mistake. I was lonely, cold, and far away from anyone who could help talk me up.
Following this negative episode, I got safely to Morocco and I had a really great time meeting new people and experiencing a new culture (details to follow on that). The point is that these defeating moments happen, and they're an important part of travelling. Travel is full of these episodes. Missed planes, expensive and unavoidable mistakes, loneliness. Travelling is so much more than what social media shows, me very much included. I could have cried and maybe being around someone else I would have, but when it's just you versus the problem, you realize that you just have to buck up and figure it out or fail. It's the same with any problem I suppose, especially when you're facing it alone. With no one there to pick you up and talk you through it (and vice versa) you need to have a really good grip on your own self talk. A million things will go wrong for every great experience when you're on the move like this, but it needs to be embraced in order to experience those epic moments. As I am writing this, I've made a bunch of new friends from all over the world in Morocco and I saw some amazing things. I am now sitting in a lovely house in Scotland in front of a wood burning fire, and I am so purely happy I don't know how to express that. I am feeling incredibly lucky in this moment, but I had to face some adversity to get here.
I wrote an entry in my journal when I woke up this morning in this wonderfully wild place, which I think I will share here since it captures a lot of how I am feeling now, in this incredible place on what feels like the edge of the world.
"I have had several periods of feeling lonely and having regrets over the past two weeks but I feel so lucky right now. I also feel incredibly brave for making this journey, and I don't feel bad for admitting that. I think most people have dreams of things that, under everything else, they may just be too afraid to pursue. Of course there are always other factors, but I think that at the end of the day it often, and most candidly, comes down to fear of the unknown or fear of failure. Because of this realization I don't feel guilt for being where I am right now. I am lucky indeed, but I also have a lot of courage and worked hard, which is how I have been able to live out these dreams of mine. I am truly living a life I wish to live, in this moment. I am purely happy."
When things go wrong, it sets you back and makes you take pause. They only add to the sweetness of successes and satisfaction though, and I have learned that I can work my way out of anything. A wee bit of good music helps a great deal as well!
Sahara Desert, Morocco
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