I am home.
This morning I woke up, one hour forward, one hour less. Fresh, wide awake, shrugging off the last of my jet lag.
There is something missing.
It takes me 30 seconds to realise what that something is – noise.
This place is so quiet.
Where is the hum of an electric fan? Where is the electric fizz of the air conditioning? Where are the relentless horns and trumpets of traffic? Where is the early morning buzz?
It is so quiet.
And in the quietness I realise, just how epic it has been.
I am home, yes but the last two weeks have felt like an absolute lifetime.
And I have no doubt that I have crammed my tiny brain with as much new stimulation that it could possibly handle in such a short space of time.
There was a Dutch couple in the Mekong who asked me, ‘You do not feel lonely travelling alone?’ Oh my god, how could one feel lonely travelling alone?
I am more alone in the normal life I lead than when I am away – I hear myself think.
It makes me smile.
I finish the last few chapters of the final book I brought away with me. At least that is one thing completed. I hesitate to open my work emails and quickly delete all the unnecessary spam.
I come back to reality, piece by piece, bit by bit. I come out of this wonderful place we have been in.
It’s time to face the truth, it’s time to hit reality.
But I know, as I write, flicking through my photos, reading through my journal, I relive it. In slow motion, in double time.
Where will the next place be? – I wonder – Where will the next place be?