Doing nothing is sometimes something

If you were wondering why I haven’t posted recently (again), it’s because I spent numerous hours across days to create something for all of you, only for all my writing to disappear after turning the kindle notes page off and on again! As much as I love that technology allows me to update you guys, it will never beat a pen and a notebook. To teach me even more patience, every time I have tried to continue to write, things have not gone to plan, such as on the train Cologne that stopped mid route and everyone had to get off for two hours, left stranded before the drivers then said we can get back on and then transfer. At this point I have come to embrace the chaos, as even though it’s a little more stressful, better stories and connections come from those events. So please forgive me for switching between timelines, as this has been written over on and off over the last few weeks.

I forget that you don’t know where I am or what I’m doing unless I actually update you all and communicate. This is unless you are my mum, who has a tracker on me at all times and at random moments in the day I hear a high pitched 'beep, beep', before a notification that says ‘the owner of this tracker can see your live location’, as if I’m being hunted down for stealing something of hers. To be honest I mostly don’t know what I’m doing or where I am. Time does not follow its usual rules when one travels like this; each day can feel long and full of life, if I am able to live it right. Other days feel as if I’m trying to pack so much in that the weight of moments don’t fully sink in. It’s like when my mum does the washing: she can stuff the machine as full as she possibly can on each wash in order to get through the pile, but it doesn’t mean all the clothes are pulled out undamaged and 100% clean. Eventually, the machine has been pushed too far and is left unable to do another cycle (something too familiar in our household). Collectively the time had been ticking in the background and all of a sudden, the one month left has shrunk into days. As I write part of this I am sat in a little cafe, Germany’s Black Forest, digesting my Goulash and the fact I have just 19 days remaining (10 days when this is published). I’m in no rush. I do not have to be anywhere. I do not have to see anything or do what someone else is telling me to do. I am just here. I am not following a schedule, but instead desires to go or stay when I please. This is all after being reminded that I too am similar to the washing machine; both my mind and body need rest to recharge. After 2 months constantly on the move without a break: faced every day with new people, new food, new locations, new hostels, new transport, new activities…I found myself depleted and trying to create energy from an output that did not exist. In one of my previous posts, I spoke about slowing down, which I now realise has a different meaning to everyone. For me it means to slow down the amount of change that I am confronted with. In Lake Como, I met a group of people and we spent at least one part of everyday with each other for the four days I was there. By spending longer than 3 nights in one place, in my head, I was slowing down. A conversation about this struck up with one of the people I had met (a girl from South Africa). When I agreed with something and began talking of how I had enjoyed slowing down, she turned and said “This is you slowing down?!”. It is only now that I understand why she was so surprised. Her idea of slowing down was with physical rest. During my time in Lake Como, although I was physically moving in boat trips, hiking day trips, running and swimming in the lake, I had made less decisions and thought less about planning, which provided enough stability to reduce the mental load that comes with travelling on your own. 

I chase movement. I always have, because being physically in motion is one of the few ways I can quiet my mind. Even when my body is exhausted, engaging in physical activities provides me with a mental energy boost and ironically, helps me become more focused. This is both positive and disadvantageous. Growing up, I used to base my value and identity around sports performances and it is still something I am learning to move away from. This trip continues to provide a space to reflect and make changes, which would normally be overlooked in the daily bustle and bustle. 

I was only in Lake Bled for three or four days, but there were so many outdoor activities available, that I tried to fit in as many as possible. I would rather splurge on these for the experiences, than on something I can easily access at home. An array of adrenaline activities filled my time there: hiking, canyoning, rafting, zip lining and mountain biking (basically my idea of a wicked trip). On a day where I had already done 2 of those activities, I decided to walk around the whole of the Lake Bled whilst waiting for the shuttle bus, under a bit of a time constraint. Half way along my legs became jelly, ready to wobble under my weight. I said that I would never desensitise from the beauty around me, but in that moment, a burden of travel became heavy in an attempt to check another activity of the list. It resulted in me begrudging the lovely surroundings and the lake, for not having a shorter route around. Now this was barely 6km of flat walking and for someone who chooses the 40 minute walks to the hostels with 2 backpacks, rather than a €2 bus, it was unusually hard. It was a signal from myself that I needed to tune into. That evening I crashed into my bunk, my head melted into the pillow with the desire to be a part of the furniture, with the only purpose to lie still. I chatted with a couple from Wales, who were also on a 3 month trip and engaging in similar activities, somehow whilst balancing PHD’s! The same day, they had taken a major rest day - one of them even went for a massage. We had a long conversation about how they had regularly paused when feeling fatigued or not 100%. They understood the importance of sacrificing a day to save the rest of the trip from burnout. The next morning, I woke up in the early hours with a wave of illness feeling like it was coming my way and decided to do the same and take a rest day before it had a chance to drown me. I took it slower than slow, I was stagnant not knowing what to do with myself and ridden with guilt for 'wasting' a day. So I just went to the lake (even that causing some fatigue) and  swam and sunbathed a little. 

The problem is (at least in my opinion when there is a lack of company and you do not have access to the usual hobbies) doing ‘less’ can become incredibly boring. I say that with the knowledge that it is a privilege to be able to travel for this length of time and to different locations. I do believe that boredom leads to some brilliant light bulb moments, but there’s a reason that sitting at a desk in isolation at secondary school is a punishment. Don’t get me wrong, I love a good kindle read at the cafe or the hostel but you can’t do that for the whole day! Usually if I were juggling multiple projects or activities, one can become rest from the other.

I resumed my fun in Bled, until I arrived in Ljubljana and utilised the calm charm of the city to sleep in and recharge again. The buffet breakfast in that hostel was so good that there was enough cheese and fruit to take for my lunches also! Fuelled up, I went a little fast again on my second day (literally getting a PB in my 5k since being injured). When I returned from my early morning run, I felt more knots in my back than in my messy hair. I would have seen rest as a weakness rather than a positive trade before this trip but was able to recognise when I needed to rebuild. So I did the unthinkable… I booked in a last minute massage. My mum and Auntie Shuz warned me that Thai massages were different to any I would have had before. Ignorant, I brushed it off because this was a sports massage and there are meant to be more specific guidelines, right? Within three hours of booking and not even three words spoken, a lady pointed to a dim lit room behind a curtain. This was possibly a place of a murder crime, but I’m not sure as I was not paying much attention to the furniture; I was too focused on her instructions to take all my clothes off and leave on my underwear, leaving me feeling already a little bare and vulnerable. Now bear in mind that I told her it was my back that I would like to focus on. Before I knew it, all dignity I had left was stripped away along with my knickers, which were now past my buttocks. I’m not sure which cheeks were more red from the shock! I peered down the face hole but all I could see were the past choices that had somehow led me to this moment in Croatia’s capital city. She began to pummel me, as if I was a large slab of pizza dough requiring a good kneading session. She must have noticed the tension in me rising rather than dissipating and in a soft voice, that juxtaposed her hulk-like hands, asked me to tell her when to go softer or harder. I replied “A bit softer please”. I was ready to close my eyes when the massage bed shifted and creaked as she joined me on top and mounted me like a horse. How was I supposed to relax? Was this normal? It was unlike any sports massage I had had before and went against all the proper guidelines I had studied. I wasn’t sure whether she was actually removing any muscle tension or just squeezing the life out of me. As she continued I gained some confidence and self preservation. "A little softer please", I wheezed, relieved when she lightened her touch. This massage went on for a good 60 minutes, interchanging between times of questioning, possible harm and other moments of relaxation. It’s a good job she couldn’t see my face because I was scrunching all features to hold in laughter when she moved out my arms and squeezed them, like tubes of Colgate. I imagine for some the feeling of having someone else massage through the palms and fingers could be quite relaxing, not for me, I was not prepared for a full body manipulation. My lack of Thai massage experience was beginning to show itself, even more so when she asked me to turn over and sit up, dropping the towel down that was covering my chest, and she used her elbow to really get in the shoulder joints. Thankfully nobody opened the curtain, as I would have gone from suppressing laughter to being absolutely mortified. When I left I assessed the damage, unsure if I was loose or damaged. On a call immediately after to my mum, I laughed out loud. 

"You didn’t say it was going to be like that!"

"I did warn you. How do you feel though?"

"Ermm, I’m not sure… Physically a bit less tight, but emotionally I couldn’t say after that haha"

It’s safe to say I’m going to wait until I’m back home to book in another massage. But, those periods taught me how important it is to rest as I moved on. 

In the National park in Croatia, I had a really enjoyable time and connected with strangers whilst we ventured out on a number of outdoor activities together. However, those really strong, sudden social interactions meant that when I travelled the next two weeks through Split, Austria and Germany’s Black Forest without connecting with a single traveller, I felt very isolated. Time alone is good sometimes to recharge the social battery, but this was the longest time I had gone without properly socialising with anyone. Fortunately, I listened to the unsettled feeling I had about one of the hostels and left earlier to go to a lovely little backpackers hostel, that had a cosy feel and I was able to have a chat with others again in the evenings, whilst also taking day trips independently. My track run with hostel bookings was getting worse when I was booking day by day. Youth hostels seemed to be terrorised by school children and other hostels seemed to become more of old peoples homes. As I made my way up the Rhine valley, my hostel base was located in a lovely town, which seemed to be inhabited only by old people, that I doubt would have been up for or able to go up the hill to pop on some Via Ferrata kit (the only things popping were probably their joints). Once again, I found myself frustrated and battling with the desires to do things but too low in energy to do them. I will never take travelling for granted but, I have to admit I was a little bored of the same types of rest days. After being forced to divert plans by the closed bike shop, I decided to accept the advice from my Auntie Clare to take my foot of the throttle. I did something amazing. No I didn’t book another massage. After my disappearing blog issue, I wandered into a family owned Lego store and sought after a model that would be small enough to squeeze into the backpack and difficult enough to keep me occupied for the rest of the day. The man in the store tried to sell a huge remote control Lego car, oblivious to the fact I would have to carry such thing around for the next few weeks, but I found exactly the right car. It worked and by the evening I was chuffed with my masterpiece; I was rested and had been entertained at the same time. A small action that would have never crossed my mind when travelling, seemed to fill me with so much joy and energy. If I would have forced myself to go on another day trip somewhere else and complete another checklist, I would have felt like I was carrying out a chore rather than living freely and content. 

Life’s too full of potential fun moments. If you feel the need to go and do something, no matter how small, just do it. 

Go buy the Lego kit. 

Go hike the mountain. 

Go out for that nice meal. 

Go with someone. 

Go alone. 

Go happy. 

Go sad. 

I’m 10 days away from the end of my trip and it fills me with a wide scope of emotions. Happiness, fear, frustration and pride are all mixing. As contradicting as it is to some of the isolation I have felt, I have not been homesick at any point. I have missed people and it’s made me realise who the important people in my life are, yet I haven’t really missed a place. It’s the things you do, the feelings you feel on your own and with others that make the place. I’m excited to go back home and share my stories, as-well as catch up on those I haven’t seen. My adventure is nearly to an end. The lessons I have learnt won’t be lost and there is a buzz I feel, as if something else is truly about to begin. 

You feel so alone that you start craving home 

But time is catching up so you cannot say no 

You’re an independant woman 

Who has to prove that she can do this,

To others and herself 

Because travel is freedom

And freedom is wealth.

Life goes too fast not to travel, even as an adult 

Life moves too fast not to sit on that swing

Not to dance and sing 

Not to eat unknown foods

Not to meet new people and try all these things.

You’ve had a taste of all this new and what you know about before has been muddled by other thoughts 

You used to fear the unknown but now you’re scared of the same, back home 

The same routines and getting sucked back in

To the cycle of being a civilian in this society. 

Can you return and still be free? 

Rosie over and out :)