I don’t know when it happened, but it did. Travelling went from being something temporary and insubstantial to being my life. The transition was almost imperceptible.
I have been in New Zealand for six weeks now and my time here is quickly drawing to a close. Without even realising it I have started to take things here for granted and am quickly dreading having to say goodbye to them. My favourite supermarket, which I try and hunt out in every town and city we visit (prices and brands can vary greatly and once you’ve found a good thing, you want to stick with it), the quirky burger chains, the ease with which you can travel around and communicate with other people. It has almost become like a temporary home. Somewhere I knew I would have to leave, but which has seeped into my system faster than I thought it would.
In this respect, long term travelling is hard. You have more time to fall in love with a place, with its food, its culture and its people, making it even harder to leave when the time comes. It isn’t like a two week holiday where all you dread is returning to work and everyday routine; now you dread leaving behind the things you had begun to love. My conversations recently have become peppered with phrases like “I need to make sure I get this one last time before I leave because who knows when I will ever get one again.” Although tinged with sadness it is at the same time exciting, because you know you are moving on to other great things. Great people, great places, great food.
But it is like saying goodbye to a new and very dear friend every few months. One that introduced you to new sayings, helped you find good coffee and free wifi, laughed at your every joke and sympathised with your every failing.
And we all know that saying goodbye sucks.
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