Delhi Intl Airport. In the rain. I met a girl here who completely saved me when I was sobbing because everything had turned to shit and I didn’t even have my boarding pass and no one else knew what to do with the white girl with a massive backpack sobbing by herself. She was lovely and totally fierce in the correct context and made sure I got my boarding pass.
She said it was good I was leaving in the rain because in all the Bollywood movies, rain signifies a new beginning. I don’t know if that’s true but at the time it was comforting. I’ve often thought about whatever that new beginning was. It’s been a bit of a running joke with myself, day after day, checking in at a boring job - “new beginnings, eh”. But I’ve worked out what it is now. It was the beginning of knowing I can get back up, whatever happens. My new favourite quote is: “Success is not final, failure is not fatal; it is the courage to continue that counts.”. This will be my mantra.
Last update from this hemisphere then! And a quick warning that this blog will probably become a travel blog for the next couple of months. See you on the other side!! xxx
Cycling is very much a team sport and the pressures to conform haven’t disappeared entirely. There was a pint of beer — that was easy. A couple of mixed drinks — a bit harder. And three shots that Dombrowski remembers tasting like gasoline. That was the last straw. Boswell and Dombrowski were supposed to race, but Dombrowski couldn’t get close to finishing. The music started playing and Dombrowski had to get in front of his teammates and colleagues and perform a striptease.
I cannot stop listening to this. I can’t stop thinking that maybe I should start packing, that maybe I should solidify my plans, because in a week’s time I’ll be on an Airbus A380 sitting next to a stranger, on my way 18,300 miles across the world to New Zealand. On My Own. There is something so magical, so exciting about not knowing, about not being sure of specifics of just knowing that you are. If that makes sense. The feeling of ultimate freedom. that it’s just you as a tiny insignificant little cog in the huge, swirling, ever changing world. I think the thing I’ve seen that a lot during these past 5 months of working 30 hours a week is that people don’t realise they are free, or perhaps they do not feel they ever have been or will be. But we are. I am conscious of this sounding incredibly preachy and cheesy, but it’s as if people don’t realise you can literally just SAVE your money and BUY a ticket across the globe - there is NOTHING stopping you but yourself and the constraints you believe you have to adhere to. So many people at work have been like — oh wow! I wish I could do that!, or —— you gotta do it while you’re young, I’m so jealous. It’s like, babe, anyone can do it. You just gotta go. You’re free, and you can go in any direction. Just fucking do it. There must be so much more to life than 8:00 to 6:30, than productivity rates, than wages and overtime. There IS so much more, but it’s somehow ok to pretend there isn’t. It’s somehow ok to get a job and settle for what you know. To settle for Friday nights and then early weekday mornings. That is not for me. I don’t know how the next few months will play out, but at least I’m trying.
I’m also drunk. I’m sure that’s got a bearing on how this post comes across.