September 30, 2012 § 4 Comments
A week from now, I’m coming home.
Not before what I like to call the “vacation component,” of this journey begins. Up until now, I haven’t considered my travels a “vacation.” I’ve been working, punctuating my journey with occasional stops in major cities. I want to be able to spend time in a city without having to worry about getting to another volunteer post on time. First, I’ll stop in Paris for two nights. (That city never fails to draw me in.) Then I’m off to Dublin for four nights. Then I fly home.
I realized about mid-way through last week that my heart is no longer in this. This is my third farming experience, and I still don’t love it. I’ve become alarmingly apathetic, which, sadly is evident in my work. Neither my hosts nor myself benefit from this. The same goes for those who would’ve hosted me in the coming weeks. It’s also untrue to me. I’m not careless person.
I’m not cut out for the nomadic lifestyle. I can’t travel for long stretches of time aimlessly. I can’t delay all those important decisions I need to make about my post-graduate life. You know, that “next step.”
Now I’m ready to take that “next step.” It’s funny. When I flew to Europe in late July, the last thing I wanted was a job. But I couldn’t put the future out of my mind the whole time I was traveling. I want a job, preferably one that pays. I want a place to call my own in a new city.
Coming to terms with all of this wasn’t easy. I was depressed. I felt like a complete failure. I was supposed to evolve into a wild, fun-loving adventurer up for just about anything. Here I was being my old sensible, pragmatic self. I thought that I hadn’t changed at all.
I couldn’t ignore what I really wanted in the end: to start a new life.
These travels almost didn’t happen. My parents practically pushed me onto the plane. The months following my college graduation were stagnant. I wasn’t unmotivated. I wasn’t complacent. I was terrified of making the wrong move. Travel or settle down? But if there’s one thing I’ve gleaned from these last two month’s it’s this: just take a step. Any step. It might be the wrong step. Who cares? Trust yourself enough to know that you’ll figure things out.
I have stories about my short time in Brittany. I plan on sharing them, although I’m not sure when or how. I’ll certainly have other thoughts to post.
In the meantime, I’m going to make the most of my final day on a farm. So far I’ve cleaned up lots chicken shit, milked several goats, and been lectured in French multiple times. I’d say it’s been a good day.
As you can see, my sense of humor has come a long, long way.