The Long Way Home

"Why don't you just walk home?". Famous last words and the words of my friends as we parted ways in Brooklyn at 2:45 a.m. "You're right, it will probably be quicker". As soon as I muttered those words, I knew it couldn't be the case, but who am I kidding; I needed the walk. This is often where my best thinking takes place: on late-night walks, although you could make a strong argument for this one as an early morning walk. Nonetheless, I knew that walking would be my last chance to stop at one of these so-called 24-hour pizza joints I had seen in Brooklyn. Such was my life, eating a late lunch at 5 p.m., only to spend the later evening slugging beers on an empty stomach. That was an hour and fifteen minutes ago. It's now 4 a.m. and I've just walked back into my room. There has been somewhat of a melancholy about me the last couple days. It started when I got an email confirming that I had accommodations for the winter in Costa Rica. I couldn't believe it when I got it, bursting with excitement; while also feeling a weight of reality. This is completely contrary to anything I've verbally spoken or people have told me. "How exciting! Oh I'm so jealous. You'll have so much fun". This is some of the things I've heard over the last couple days, yet for me the strange reality is the closing of one chapter and the beginning of another.

I set out on a nomadic journey almost two months from today. Quitting my job to become a freelance travel writer to travel the world. The result: I'm not cut out to be a backpacker or round-the-world traveler. Some people are, but just not me. So I've decided to turn travel over the next year into a set of two to four month trips in different destinations. First stop: Costa Rica. There was the initial step that I took two months ago, but this is much more; it's more of a hop, skip and a leap. It's like I've graduated from pull-ups to whitey tighties.

When I think about this next step, I honestly just want to travel around to where my friends are. Live in NYC for a couple months, before hitting the West Coast to Orange County, Portland and Seattle and then ending in Atlanta before back to NYC. But I can't. I resolved a couple months ago that I was going to take the road less traveled and go places I had never gone, not just going to where my material comforts and relationships were, but going beyond the bounds to stretch myself and learn new languages, explore different cultures and meet new people. I resolved to do this and nothing was going to stand in my way.

And so it is, in mere weeks I leave comfort, friends and family to go to a place where I don't know anyone, have never been and am re-learning the language. It's daunting and challenging, but I've come to realize in life that sometimes the long way home, is the best way home. Ask me again in a couple months if this is the case. It reminds me of the words to one of my favorite prayers: "Let me learn by paradox that the way down is the way up, that to be low is to be high, that the broken heart is the healed heart".

This is probably the most scatter-brained thing I've ever published. I guess it's my form of journaling and I wanted to share part of my life with you. Forgive the lack of structure and ramblings at 4 a.m., but thank you if you've read this far.