I need a holiday. I need over-sized pillows, an extra blankets in the morning. I want breakfast with a view over a bustling city I haven’t yet explored. Mimosa’s before noon just because I am on holiday. I want to argue over a map with someone I don’t know, who speaks a language I don’t understand just because they’re cute and I love the way words roll off of their tongues.
I want to spend time in a tiny corner cafe watching the old Italian man read his newspaper. Just like I have learnt from every Travel movie ever, that all Italian men do. He’ll be old, and wise, salt & pepper hair against dark tan skin from all the years he spent in the vineyards. I’d imagine he comes to this particular cafe everyday at the same time. He orders the same meal, served by the same waitress,as he takes comfort in watching “the one that got away” so many years ago.
Or maybe I’ll find myself on an island in the Philippines. Simply wading around the white sand beaches, in my kaftan. Watching children run up and down the shore, watching the fisherman chat amongst themselves, about who’s wife makes the best Kinilaw.
Eventually the sun will start setting, the cool sea breeze against my skin, sending me back in the direction of my resort. Not of course before taking a moment to let the orange, red and purple shades of the sunset remind me just what Travel is to my soul.
After some light dinner entertainment, I’ll crawl into bed and leave for California the next day.
In the Surfer Backpackers im staying at, i’ll meet a group of Van touring travelers who invite me to accompany them for a leg of their road trip.
Packing up, we’ll drive through coastal towns, get lost and create memories. Healing our sunburns at night, but piling on the sunscreen the next day, as I finally learn to Surf.
We’ll end up extending our initial plans, and tour half of the State. Eating breakfast cereal for dinner and forming a roadside band to fund our petrol. Cellphones will start gathering dust as they lay unchecked in draws for days on end. Only one of us sending the obligatory “Dear Family, things are great, love ya” sms to all our folks on occasion.
The time will come and the realization will start looming, that its time to go home. That the holiday is over. Back to ties, suites and office blocks. Deadlines and administrative tasks.
The thought is daunting, so daunting in fact as you cant believe you’re about to hand over your life, soul and self to someone that isn’t you. The idea of a robot returning to its maker.
This is not right, this is not what you were meant to do, you know this in your heart. This holiday, the exploration, the interaction, the new places, new people, new adventures. This is what you’re meant to be doing.
And then you start wondering….could you?
Could you possibly?
Before you know it, you’ve climbed out of the Van and walked into the store in front of you.
You find yourself asking the owner “Are you hiring?”
You’re baffled as the owner asks if you’re qualified? You tell him you don’t even know what kind of shop you’re in, but you’re willing to learn……………….
Since that day you’ve spent your time saving up for a Van of your own.
Learning a new skill
Meeting people from all over the world
Saving up for your next travel adventures
And writing letters home, telling your family about the color of the water you get to stare at everyday
And As Always………