One Week Left

It’s weird to think that in a week I’ll be gone again.

Gone from what I’m not sure. To where I’m not sure. Not entirely.

Yes, I’ve been “home” for the past month, but the more I leave, the less and less it feel like home. My parents got new dogs, our other two puppies died while I was in New Zealand, so they are no longer our dogs. As cute and wonderful as they are, Max and Zeke, will never be my dogs, they will always be my parents dogs. My parent’s house no longer feels like my house. It’s the same one I grew up in, my room is essentially still the same, but something just doesn’t feel right. None of the stuff here is really mine, only what’s been packed away in boxes for when I do settle down somewhere. If is settle down somewhere.

I often waver between wanting the so-called typical life style, get a job, settle down somewhere, get a dog, have friends who aren’t half way across the world for six months at a time, but at the same time I want to travel and see the world. I want to live out of a backpack, I want to live on a few dollars a day and meet new people and see new places. I want to sleep under the stars, in a tent, under a tin roof. I want to try new things, experience new things.

So for now, before I get tied down to an apartment and a job and a dog, I’ll travel and live out of my backpack. Which I am totally excited for.

I’ll be flying from the JFK airport to Moscow to Hanoi, two 9 hour flights and a 12 hour layover. Then I’ll be training for a dream job as a rock climbing guide, living, breathing, sweating and eating climbing. And I can not wait.

The minimum length of stay is six months, could be longer though. I don’t yet have a return flight, only tickets to get there, which is exciting in itself. No definite end to my adventure like I had in New Zealand, no time frame of when I absolutely have to be back at an airport. Instead I could choose to travel to another country, maybe get a different job, or even come back earlier than expected. Which I definitely don’t see happening!

In one week I’ll be back in an airport. Crammed in with a bunch of strangers all off on their own adventures small or large. It’ll be the same routine through security, all personal belongings and bags in the plastic bins, walk through the metal detector, hurriedly cram everything back together so you can get out to the way of other passengers. And then to the airport gates where you wait in a nervous excitement for something new, for a new adventure, to a new place with a bunch of people you have never met.

And in that moment I am never more happy or excited.

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Typical plane travel photos

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Flying into Queenstown, NZ

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Looking to the Remarkables from my house in NZ

 

 

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