I’ve been waxing nostalgic recently. Perhaps it’s because once again I’m ready to pick up my life and move it to a new, unexplored place. Perhaps it’s also because of the frustrations felt by having a life that’s not come together quite as planned. Maybe the reason why I’m writing this is because I saw my hairline receding today, not bad, but the skin around my temples is growing a bit more exposed — that and the fact that I see more and more grey hair.
I’ve grown wistful about the things I’ve never seen. I wonder, how is it in Spain? Is it beautiful or only disappointing? How are things really in Portugal? Is it really a country where one can lose onself drinking a bica, watching the sun go down over Lisbon?
I used to dream about that, dream about waking up in Castile viejo, the morning’s sun pouring through a half-open window, the curtains rustling gently in the breeze.
Paella and amontillado for lunch, tapas for dinner.
I don’t want to sound like I’m whingeing, travelling through Asia thrice in three years has been a privilege — at each turn I was treated warmly and shown the greatest hospitality. A vegetarian dinner in Taipei, the host a devout Buddhist who took pity on my for not having eaten all day. Dancing, screaming, jumping up and down, singing in Mandarin and Taiwanese for hours in Kaohsiung, drowning myself in the sweat of the thousands around me. Chatting with a salaryman eating a quick dinner in Tokyo, drinking coffee in Macau looking out onto a Baroque street with a Cantonese drama playing in the background, the symphony of lights by Victoria Harbour in Hong Kong, laughing and telling jokes over dumplings in Shanghai, fresh octopus and hot pot in Korea, paella and coffee in Hiroshima… These are my experiences, golden memories, pearls in my mind. These are the things I would never exchange for anything, the memories I hope stay fresh in my mind until I breathe my last. Not to forget, eating cake at a conditorie in Copenhagen, taking a train across Denmark — the sun peeking out from between the clouds now and then teasing us with promises of light.
Perhaps I’m just frustrated that I missed the best of times in Europe, times spent in cold kitchens in Germany, always under the dank, grey skies of central Europe busy with school or family drama. I know it’s not too late, but it seems as if what’s left is the grim reality that hangovers and cold turkey therapies are the most painful of phases.
Boadicea's Chariot 
I spent 30 or more years rattling 10 degrees north/south of the Equator all the way around, plus frequent forays to northern Europe – nothing I had ever envisaged in careers interviews. It was rather nice to be paid to go to Singapore, Brisbane, Oslo or Maputo, but rural Portugal is pretty good too. Forget Lisboa and enjoy a bica and figo with Portuguese friends whille the sun sets over the marinated pig thrown casually on the barbie. Don’t worry abut the hairline or the grey bits – worry more about what the Good Lord has planned for your body that you need hair in your ears.
OZ
Christopher!
A few years ago I read the ramblings that I wrote many years ago. I was highly amused to read what I had written aged 23 that the “world had passed me by” and I must just accept that….
I’ve seen and done much more than I ever thought I could since then.
Both Bearsy and I wanted to go to India…
Five weeks ago, I gave up on that ‘dream’…
… I’ve just resurrected that ambition. 🙂
“I don’t like to sound like I’m whineging”
Well you are!
Be thankful that you have had the health and the ability to earn/ pay for your trips.
There is more to life than running around the bloody world.
Time you took up Bessarabian clogdancing and underwater basket weaving.
Lobinho: one day, one day. After I finish with graduate school I just might go do that. I have some decent job prospects in East Asia and it wouldn’t be too hard to go to Europe from there. Just to warn you, the Mustelid and I could well decide to come visit at the same time.
Boadicea: strangely enough, I’d very much like to go to the Indian Punjab and Goa, though the rest of India seems most interesting in pictures and history books.
Christina: when one is in bloody San Francisco 90pc of the time Bessearabian clog daning while performing feats of underwater basket weaving in Pakistan almost sounds preferable.
I’m with Boadicea on this one, Christopher.
You are well-travelled, and there is no reason to suppose you need to stop. I doubt that many of us at your age knew what direction our lives would take.
Aaargghhh!
OZ