“They don’t know whether they’re coming or going,” cannot be said of me. I do and I always am, and one or the other is fine. Sometimes I manage to stay put for a short period, but soon the bug grabs me again. Time is to go, to see, to experience, to reconnoitre; to smell, taste and feel other places, other lives, other cultures, other belief systems; to collect them and compare them and try to make sense of the world of man.
I am always questioning and travel often brings answers, some acceptable, often not. And the more I see, the more I question. Clearing the Earth to make space for Nature makes more and more sense, but what if I’m missing something?
What if cities are the way to make man’s footprint smaller, leaving the land to recuperate?
What if world peace would do more harm than good? What other means would man then employ to relieve boredom? What other atrocities can the human mind possibly dream up?
What if there were no tornadoes, earthquakes and other natural disasters? Is this the universe’s way of forcing caring and compassion on humans for their fellow man? Have we stooped so low that we need disasters to bring out the best in us?
What if people don’t want the help being thrust on them by do-gooders?
What if all we see and hear in the media is nonsense?
What if “the truth” is out there somewhere?
What if…….?
So many questions, so few answers. So many places, so little time.
And I do try to settle. I really do. As I become older, I get tired more easily and luggage feels heavier and more cumbersome. I’m often enjoined by my concerned family whom I haven’t seen for years to become more steady, or staid, or asked when I will settle, which sets my mind into “the nesting mode” and I manage to kick out a nesting place for a time…and I am content…again for a time.
But then the Internet, or some remark by a fellow human, whispers—nay, screams “come hither!” and “hither” I go. Fingers first.
Travel sites on the web are menus and travel agents the chefs of delectable delights for a gourmandous gourmet—there is never too much always superbly prepared; it awaits only the partaker, and let it never be said that this diner was too timid to taste a little bit of everything. There is so much wonder, so much beauty, so much wander.
Where to next? Look at this country, what does it have to show me, what can I do there, what can I learn, what is the weather, the terrain, the customs, the culture, how do I get there cheaply, where do I stay that won’t beggar my limited budget? Where can I volunteer that will “nest” me while I give back in some way? What cheap flights are there, is it easy to travel in the country and move to neighbouring countries? What language do they speak, does it matter?
Skyscanner.net, speak to me! Booking.com, hostelbookers.com, dozens of volunteerforfree.whatever sites are stacked in my web browser’s “bookmarks” and “browsing history.”
The open road invites the foot, and this foot never turns an invitation down. An unashamed, unabashed, self-confessed, unrepentant gypsy and nothing holds more pleasure than the journey. Love is….. exploring; realizing the confines of nothing hold me, all roads clear to my footsteps, all opening doors beg me to walk through, and I cannot resist.
Road, rail, sea, air is a four-headed genie that speaks to the heart, “Your wish is my command, and if you don’t know what to wish for, I’m a genie, for goodness sake, I’ll whisk something up.” The spirit says, “Time to go again.” The soul shrieks, “Yee ha!” The mind mutters, “Let’s see how this can be done.” Body opines nothing; it’s simply the donkey-cart that hauls the wild bunch around.
It’s about the journey; voyages are the light to my soul.
Dining cars in trains are places of constant amazement. Lighter than other carriages, they bounce and jiggle and groan and scream. The diners congregate for their separate repasts, often disappeared into their own private worlds. Funky barmen, exhausted waitresses, businessmen, tourists, policemen, children, and as the time passes the bouncing seems to loosen something in them and they look around for someone to share with. I’m there waiting, listening, laughing, commiserating, sharing. Smokers head for the perilous area between carriages and standing with them, watching the connections grind and the adjacent carriage swing while balancing against some or other rail often has everyone laughing and shouting above the noise at each other, “Where are you from?”…or cringing, “This would never be allowed in the UK”…inviting the giggling response, “Ha, but you are not in the UK now. Welcome to…”
Long distance buses cram people together for hours, sometimes days on end and asking a fellow passenger—sometimes across the aisle—“what are you reading?” either opens them up, or clams them down “leave me alone, woman, can’t you see I’m trying to make myself invisible!” Yes, I am one of those…
One day, and let it not be soon, all the comparing will put this body and mind in a place where all has coalesced and time will correct itself. But, until time moves the Earth to a place I cannot or don’t want to go, I will do the necessary to ensure that at least one being on this planet can be said to have looked, listened and delighted in, or commiserated with, the world as it is for the now.
That is why this body has a “stay by” date. Maybe I will find the answers on this planet in this lifetime. If not? Stars, here I come! Now how will I get there…www.wormhole.com?
Photo by Vlad Bagacian from Pexels
