Life in Ink and Footsteps

Sitting on the plane, somewhere above the UK, a mere two hours before landing in Prague. And holy shit, it feels surreal.

Double time.

It felt surreal when I wrote the last entry, and it feels surreal now as I finish rereading and writing this blog. Since I wrote the first entry on a plane heading to the USA, I knew I had to write the last one on the plane leaving it—to close the circle, in a way. I’ve always liked poetic gestures like that. With a nice big bow on top. And that hasn’t changed.

In that last entry, I was being dramatic—potentially slightly hysterical—but it truly did feel that way at the moment. As if a part of me was being left behind in the US, and I would never get it back. I don’t think I fully realized how much truth was hidden in that statement. I was just sad and overwhelmed by the amount of love, fear, and confusion warring inside me.

But now, looking back, I know I was on point. Even if it sounds melodramatic.

I made this big move across the world two more times after that, and I know now: you really do leave a part of yourself in those faraway places. And I think that’s a natural process.

We build ourselves from scratch, adjust to the culture, community, and hardships of our new life—create a new persona, if you will. And when we return to the place where we used to be—wherever that was—we can’t just take this new being into our old world. So we adjust again. Or maybe reborn is the better word.

Of course, some people might not have this experience and might think I’m completely delulu, and hey, you might be right on that account. But I truly believe this is how it works.

So it’s interesting for me to read that last entry again—with its dramatic, “end-of-my-current-life” kind of tone. Not naming the emotion yet, not giving it a shape or coherent thought. But already glimpsing what would later become a recurring theme in my life—a way of thinking and adjusting as a world traveler.

And so, my American adventure comes to an end. It was a beautiful journey. And it gave me closure I didn’t even know I needed.

If you’ve read this far—thank you, dear Reader. I hope my escapades entertained you, in one way or another.

And so, let me quote the last line of my last entry, the one I wrote to my American self—the version of me I felt like I was leaving behind:

“It was a pleasure to meet you. Take care, and good luck.”