Whelp. I’m sitting on a very fat plane, heading to the US for the first time in five months. By fat I mean there are three rows of seats and two aisles and we have TVs and chargers at every seat so I feel extra fancy. I want to just sleep and watch all of my downloaded episodes of The Good Place, but I need to digest this.
I had a lovely last day in Barcelona. Kiwi Guy and I walked around, had Sangria in a famous square in the sun, split some tapas and beer, and enjoyed the city and each other’s company. The highlight was the show we saw in the evening at the Palau de Musica, which is a 110 year old music hall.
After scouring the internet, I had found tickets for super cheap – the lowest price ticket was 39 euro but I found some for 16 because a third party site had accidentally listed the performance under a different and cheaper venue. Despite our fears that they were fake tickets from a scammy site, everything worked out just fine in the end. It was a concert of four master guitarists, playing everything from traditional Spanish music to Tchaikovsky (seriously, they somehow played the harp solo in the Waltz of the Flowers). They were so incredible. I’ve never seen anything like that before. Spanish guitarists are even more amazing than other guitarists because they play every string on its own moreso than chords. And so QUICKLY. Plus, they had almost every song memorized – they only used music for one piece.
Besides the beautiful music, there was also a lot of humor in the performance. They had little bits of choreography once in awhile, not enough to detract from the music, but added little moments and buttons. They also played around with one-upping each other and with the guy that brought out all their music and stands and everything. There was even one song that they all played together on a single guitar! The silliness helped to break up the monotony that sometimes accompanies live music performances. I was never bored for a second, and it was one of my favorite things I did in Spain.
I had a lot of trouble sleeping last night, no doubt because I like to overthink everything. I’ve been doing so well the last few months, and it’s a little upsetting to find out that my anxiety isn’t going to go away just because I want it to. Traveling has been so easy: when I have no real goals, I can’t fail, so there’s nothing to be anxious about. But when “real life” comes into play, all of my old worries start to infiltrate my brain. I think that dealing with this will just continue to be a part of my journey.
I’ve learned a lot about myself over the past five months. Some things I expected to learn. Some things I knew in my head, I just had to put into practice. And some things kind of threw themselves into my face.
I expected and hoped to learn self-reliance and confidence, and I’m glad to say this has definitely happened. Navigating places all on my own, making decisions based only on instincts, doing what I want when I want. I trust myself more than I ever have. And I know that I can do anything I put my mind to, even if I’m terrified. As it turns out, when you face your fears, they aren’t usually nearly as scary as you imagined.
I’m learning to speak up, ask questions, stand up for myself when I’m being harassed. I’ve screamed at strangers in the street for invading my space and following me. I have no shame anymore if I’m lost; I will ask people for directions with no problem at all.
I’ve learned that I’m a performer at heart. I’ve spent the last twenty-something years pursuing my dream, but I got to a point where it wasn’t really making me happy anymore; I thought that I was just doing it because it’s what I’ve always done. For the first time, I gave myself permission to take a break: possibly permanently, I didn’t know. But one thing I learned for certain is that performing will always, ALWAYS be a part of my life. As I’ve traveled to each country, I’ve wanted to see live performances. They’ve been the highlights of everywhere I’ve gone. They’ve inspired me and remind me why this is something that I need to do.
I’ve learned to take chances, to open myself up to new experiences. I had tea with strangers in Morocco and tried gross Scottish food and drank probably more than I have in the entire rest of my life in Budapest. I partied hard on Christmas and rode camels on my birthday.
My heart has grown even more desperate for those that suffer. I’ve seen the conditions that people and animals live in, and I want to make the world better. I have gotten braver with animals – I no longer avoid touching them and hugging them and taking them home. They probably won’t have rabies. And they just want to be loved.
I learned to cook. Okay, not really, let’s be real I’m never going to REALLY know how to cook. But I learned to enjoy it more. It can be a communal thing, a shared experience, and all the cooking that I participated in made up some of my favorite moments. Also…it can be so cheap. WHO KNEW?!
I learned how to let go of people and things and animals and relationships. Goodbyes have become easier. There will always be more. Humans were a quick learn, animals were slower. I’m still working on that one, actually.
I know more about myself and what I need in a relationship. I will no longer put other people’s needs ahead of my own. Intimacy doesn’t have to be painful or uncomfortable or more about my partner than myself. But one of the hardest things I’ve slowly come to realize is something I’ve suspected for awhile. I don’t think I will ever find an “ever after” relationship. I don’t think it’s me. As much as I would like a partner with whom to share my life, I have too many standards. I get bored too easily. I feel like I’m settling too easily. In all of my recent relationships – no matter how brief – I’ve learned a little bit more about what I want…and it’s so much. No one will ever be enough.
There will always be more to learn. Even though this adventure is ending, another one is beginning, one that doesn’t have to involve gallivanting off to a different country every five minutes. I plan on traveling more in the future, but I need a break to focus on building something now.
But I don’t plan on abandoning this blog. It’s called “Yes to Nowhere” for a reason. I don’t know where I’m going in the future. I don’t know where I’ll be living in a few months. I plan on living my life to its fullest every day, regardless of the country I’m in, and I think sharing my experiences will encourage me to be more alive: to make more interesting choices, and to be here now.