By day is one entirely different thing than by night. I awake in a strange place, a stranger's place every morning. A souless room filled with a weary, recycled sense of wonder. I get up when I wake up and take my time getting out the door. Once I am out the door I am owned by the city, inch by inch for a set amount of days. The feeling of sight seeing greediness sets in. I have to see it all or it doesn't count. The exhausting day haults in the middle at a point of a complete listless malaise. Wandering around, alone, with my thoughts lets my mind explore parts it wouldn't normally if I were to be preoccupied by bills, reservations, saturday night plans or any type of future arrangements. I'm living my dream - I should be skipping through Rome, looking at amazement at everything. Closing my eyes to smell the smell of the Romans, feeling the feel of the Romans... instead caught in this crossfire of doubt, guilt and worry. What is stems from I can not be sure. What is grows into - well, that's the power I hold over myself - a yet-to-be-determined future. Oy, the pressure!
The dusk flows through the sky. Is this day over yet? I settle back into the state of disposable freedom in the hostel room and get ready for another solitare night of a cold shower and a few chapters of East of Eden. Inattentively making small talk with my roommates. The question is posed - What are you going to do tonight, do you want to come out with us? The toss up... The answer.. of course I'll go.
By night and the first bottle of finished wine the fog has completely rolled out my body and there is nothing but this bright light shining through. To me, from them, from me to them... we're all having the time of our lives. These are the moments we came to travel for. This is why we're here. If you were to blind fold me I wouldn't be able to tell what city I was in. With the mix of Australians, Germans, Canadians, Brazillians, Italians surrounding me I could just as well be at the Manhattan Inn on 30th St. and 8th ave. I know I am not though, because there is this underlying feeling of uncomfortableness because I am not in my safety bubble. There is no shield. Here it is... here is the world.
What has sent us on our travels varies, story to story. Some of them are just checking things out, studying, visiting someone or other and then there's the rest of us with no return ticket. We know why we left but as Joel, my finnish friend pointed out we travel to find a reason to go back.
The dusk flows through the sky. Is this day over yet? I settle back into the state of disposable freedom in the hostel room and get ready for another solitare night of a cold shower and a few chapters of East of Eden. Inattentively making small talk with my roommates. The question is posed - What are you going to do tonight, do you want to come out with us? The toss up... The answer.. of course I'll go.
By night and the first bottle of finished wine the fog has completely rolled out my body and there is nothing but this bright light shining through. To me, from them, from me to them... we're all having the time of our lives. These are the moments we came to travel for. This is why we're here. If you were to blind fold me I wouldn't be able to tell what city I was in. With the mix of Australians, Germans, Canadians, Brazillians, Italians surrounding me I could just as well be at the Manhattan Inn on 30th St. and 8th ave. I know I am not though, because there is this underlying feeling of uncomfortableness because I am not in my safety bubble. There is no shield. Here it is... here is the world.
What has sent us on our travels varies, story to story. Some of them are just checking things out, studying, visiting someone or other and then there's the rest of us with no return ticket. We know why we left but as Joel, my finnish friend pointed out we travel to find a reason to go back.
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