Coming home

Bueno. Bien. I´m in Lima, killing time in the cheapest, fastest internet cafe I have found in all of my 6 months away. I fly in 8 hours, back to the Ashes, Anglo-Saxons, warmish weather, the almost certain prospect of contracting swine flu by the end of the year, and trying to find some kind of job.

I have been doing more living than travelling here in South America. It´s easier to live a daily routine tired than it is to travel tired, and somewhere over the South Pacific I became tired from being on the road (and in the air) for months. This "living" business, in a comfortable place with a stable group of friends and something forcing you to get up early (i.e. Spanish school), when compared to the naive enthusiasm, energy and wonder of earlier days spent travelling, feels remarkably like the zombie state you get in when you work too hard at home. It´s been a reminder of what it was like before my boss called me into a meeting room in October and gave me my marching orders. A reminder, and a warning never to forget the time you laughed yourself silly when you foolishly turned over your mattress in your hostel to see if the other side wouldn´t look like someone had died on it. (The other side is never cleaner, ever. Why would it be?) Or the first time you got in a cab in Buenos Aires and realised the driver was actually wearing his seat belt and you gave thanks that you had skipped breakfast. Or when you look through your photos of friends back home and realise how much we all look like Vikings. The difference is there every occasion you step out of your hostel and look up and around you, marvelling at the otherness of the place, rather than down at your feet, scanning for dog shit and blocking out as much as possible of your surroundings while trying to be as inconspicous as possible.

I know a rude awakening awaits me in the UK, but coming back is part of the reason for going away. I will fly into London tomorrow evening, hopefully routed in a loop over Docklands, the City and the West End towards the familiar shambles of Heathrow. In the next few days I will reacquaint myself with my family and friends, my language and my country, and the face prospect of an exciting new start doing.... something.

It´s been emotional. I have a long list of places I want to go next if any of you fancy joining me on the next one.

Chau.