Some people travel to get away from reality. Some people travel for the adventure. And, some people just never go anywhere. Which one are you?
Everyone thinks the grass is greener on someone else’s lawn but we all know that this is usually not true. I can remember when I lived in Cayman, I used to think why would anyone ever want to leave such a beautiful place? And I was surprised to find myself packing my own bags and leaving after 1.5 years. I think privately, I wanted to leave before I stopped appreciating it. I was already on my way to becoming complacent with the magical sunsets and warm sea breeze. Now, when I go back to visit, I have fond memories packed away in the sweet corners of my mind.
When you have lived in “paradise”, it’s hard to ever go back to reality. Noisy traffic, crappy weather, crowded supermarkets and jerky bus rides. But in some ways I can honestly say, those “realities” are what keeps the blood flowing through my veins.
Instead of becoming numb and dulled by day in and day out sunshine, I can step out of my doorway and breath the cool winter air and feel alive. I bundle up, I move on. Yes, I will grumble from time to time and wax on about how I miss those easy, carefree days on the beach (reality: I worked my butt off 6 days a week at a beach bar from 9-7).
What I particularly love about Italy is that it seems to have a good mixture of both. It has the palm trees and beaches but it also has the noisy traffic and crappy weather. It has good food and good wine, but the flip side is that every shop in town closes from noon to 4 in order to enjoy all that good cooking and vino!
Every place I’ve lived the grass is green, but it is also just as green where I left too. I have some friends here that have lived here for a long time. Homesickness is something we all experience from time to time. We miss those comforts that have become part of the fabric of who we are. But I guarantee you that no matter where you go to next, you will always miss something about where you just were too. For every place we park our car in life, a piece of us is left on the soil and a piece of soil is left in us.
I mentioned in one of my posts that I love art. Well, I also love poetry. The poem below is one of my favourites. I hope you enjoy it too:
Stream Of Life by Rabindranath Tagore
The same stream of life that runs through my veins night and day
runs through the world and dances in rhythmic measures.
It is the same life that shoots in joy through the dust of the earth
in numberless blades of grass
and breaks into tumultuous waves of leaves and flowers.
It is the same life that is rocked in the ocean-cradle of birth
and of death, in ebb and in flow.
I feel my limbs are made glorious by the touch of this world of life.
And my pride is from the life-throb of ages dancing in my blood this moment.