Ooops, no it’s London. At Easter. There’s no-one here tho, making it feel a bit like the USSR.
It’s nice to be here, despite the predictably bad weather (another reminder of the USSR). No, really, it is great to be home. The best thing about being home was at the airport to meet me. And its true, the good thing about being away is coming home again.
Some of the other good things about being here and not there are: not having to stuff all your possessions into a backpack every day, or having to plan in detail where you’ll get your next meal, or thinking will I get the skitter if I eat this?
And being at home again is NOTHING like being on a night bus in Bolivia at 4am with all your important things secreted about your person while you keep a very firm grip on your daypack hoping against hope that you might actually get some sleep before the bus arrives.
The big thing now that I am home will be avoiding the thought that it feels like I’ve never been away. Cos I do feel like I have been away and I don’t want to lose that feeling. Especially as I had such a great time. I’ve seen and done stuff I hadn’t imagined seeing and doing, and hopefully the impact of the last 3+ months will linger for a while to come.
This may be a little more difficult than I thought tho. I’d been back in London for less than 100 hours before going back to work. At the same place. It’s still mostly the same, minus a few familiar faces. A week sitting on my arse before going back to work would have been a nice luxury. Tho not one I could afford, unfortunately.
So here I am, back at my desk worried that I may soon feel like I’ve never been away, yet relieved that I’m not currently fending off street-sellers in Cusco and that I won’t get the skitter from anything I eat in London(?). And I can’t help but think that nice as my job might be and nice as it is to have an income again, I’d much rather be having a nice time in a far off place. Sigh…
