So I’ve been back in Europe for a while now. My fears have come true. I got a 9-5 job, and I feel the pressure to marry someone and make some babies. And although I just turned 26, over the past couple of months my family has made sure I feel like a 30-year-old something. Andra was even graciously reminded by a relative that all women have an ‘expiry date’. What a great time to be alive.
Leaving Europe for two years, though, has given me an opportunity to come back home like a tourist or an alien? I’m observing the behaviour of my parents and their parents and our relationship with each other. And suddenly I get that ‘aha’ moment – so this is what has made me- ME? Damn, I AM getting old and crazy here.
The fun part, though, of being a tourist back home, is to realise what a beautiful place I’m from. I haven’t seen that many decent size cities with so much nature and water and greenness around. I love Riga.
In any case, I’m trying to convince my ambitious self that it has been very healthy to do nothing for a couple of months. No travelling. No jobs. No adventures. Just a ‘few’ embarrassing attempts to get my driver’s licence, a bit too much Pinterest and the usual dose of family drama.
Or I’m just trying to justify my lazy bum here. Probably the latter.
Anyhow, I’ve been extremely good at running around like a headless chicken since I can remember myself. Never embarking on that dangerous and extreme journey of self-reflection. It’s scary to start digging.
Travelling especially has been a great excuse not to look within and confront whatever mess I find there. I acknowledge that.
Yes, I have been travelling for all the wrong reasons. Then I remember all the awesome people and the lessons given along the way. And I conclude- I think I’ll be alright, as I unfold the map.
‘The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new lands but seeing with new eyes.’ – Marcel Proust