Irony. The day we leave France we end up spending half a fortune on a gas bottle adapter. Every European country seems to have their own system. Dis-unity. Variety. Add to the fortune we spent in Paris – it’s time to move on. I have mentioned how much I love this country and am especially grateful for the beautiful days we enjoyed in the city of romance and glamour embedded in the cheerfulness which only the treasured company of old friends can evoke. But when I can’t swallow anymore sugar and bleached wheat doesn’t even attract me in the form of a freshly baked croissants or a home-made chouquettes, then it’s time to move on. When I can’t laugh at ignorance anymore, but actually get annoyed at mothers smoking cigarettes in the middle of a playground and people blowing their dirty smoke right into my baby’s face – then it’s time to move on. When I can’t just skip over the disrespect anymore towards less-abled people but the lack of escalators on metros, houses and even public buildings really starts giving me the shits – then it’s time to move on.
No place is perfect, but every place has its beauty. That’s one of the great realizations about travelling. Nomadic life allows me to enjoy the crème de la crème as long as I love it, and then move on. Easy? Not really. Exhilarating? For sure! I sometimes get asked what I am running away from. Nothing that I can think of (apart from Abbot who has sadly been elected prime-minister down under, subsequently approved a huge shipping lane through the Barrier Reef which is already in danger of extinction as it is; cut most environmental and social funding; ordered to officially use the term’ illegals’ for asylum seekers; publicly stated that women and gays are cognitively less able then straight [white] men … and he’s not even been in office for half a year. God help Australia!). Does the notion of strolling with life, towards adventures, seeking to know the world not fit into the average mindset?
In the UK, gypsies and travelers are a minority group who, as some official websites state as of recently, have been granted the right to a nomadic lifestyle. What would aborigines say about this? ‘Granted the right to a nomadic lifestyle’? This must sound absurd. The notion of land ownership was foreign to them before Captain Cook’s arrival. Instead they respected the Earth they stepped and slept on and took only what they needed before moving on, along their dreams and songs. Can’t we, who are slowly but steadily destroying the very planet which gives us life, learn a lot from that? I don’t get why what I am doing with my family appears so strange to many. Although I have moments I crave the convenience of a settled life, travelling feels so natural. Gazing at the beauty of this planet, kilometers at a time. Learning from life. Growing with every new challenge [and there is not few!]. Little island in the north, here we come to see what winter’s destiny’s got served for us. Time to hop on the ferry.