While wading through a stack of books this morning, I came across the following quote by a fellow "global citizen":

"One of the blessings and curses of travelling a lot is that your best friends live all over the world. Good, because you always have an excuse to go and visit a foreign country. Bad, because you usually never have more than a few close friends nearby."



This struck a bit of a touchy chord.

July 15th will mark one year since I returned to Belgium for what was suposed to be a 6-month emergency stay after a break-up. Those first 6-months were spent in sheer denial that I was back home. I really didn't cope well with the unexpected turn of events in my life. A return home had never been in my plans and I was definitely not ready to give up on everything that had been my life. "Living abroad", however sad that may seem, had been a big part of who I was.

Several months of intense soul-scrutinizing on a therapist's couch eventually (among other things) helped me surrender to the idea of being here. It was a sort of relenting of control and an acceptance of the fact that sometimes things just have to last for as long as they have to, regardless of how eager you are to move on with your life. As it turns out, however reluctant I was to accept them, those unexpected twists in my plans have not been such a bad thing after all. The biggest upside being: the time to reconnect with an old base of friends.

In the past, I've loved every minute of life in foreign places. And I am quite certain it is where I'm heading for the next leg of my life. But the one thing I've always missed in that life-style, is the one big bonus this year has had on offer: the chance to drop in on a few mates who know you inside-out, for some quality company whenever you've any need for it.

I felt that very strongly last night as I was sat in the Irish pub with a couple of friends watching England draw with Sweden. It felt so comfortable. I supose it never outwardly shows. I'm a restless person, I seem to be on edge all the time and my brain does flip constantly to the next few things I need to do in my life. But despite my outward appearance, I felt incredibly at home right there and then. Maybe that's why reading that quote this morning struck such a chord.

I love my old friends. My family. I've made several very close new friends during my time abroad in a wide variety of places. And my bond with each of them is probably as close as they would be if I were to see them every day. But it is true that if I follow up on the life I've in mind for myself, I will have to accept that the biggest part of my life will be spent away from many of them. And that I will never have the humongous social life that, for instance, my brother has accumulated by simply staying in his hometown. My social life will forever be fragmented. Wherever I am on the globe, my choices of whom I go to the pub with or whom to ask for a cinema visit, will always be limited by geography. I won't be able to just drop by my mum's for a cup of coffee, or take my little sister to the swimming pool after school. I will probably miss out on being there when some of my closest friends have their first kid, or when they need a comfort drink after a nasty incident in their lives. (Unless of course, I become filthy rich, buy my own private jet and overcome my fear of flying by hypnosis. It COULD happen.)

The flipside of that coin, however, is that I will have a chance to follow what feels right to me. To give into that restless urge to be someplace else and maybe one day calm it down by finding a place that feels like my own. If I hadn't stepped out of the comfort zone of home, I would not have met all the friends I've accumulated en route. I would not have been exposed to as many things that make me face up to myself. I would have probably felt less alive.

I realise this has turned out a very sappy blogpost. It might be the fact that I'm PMS-ing. Or the fact that the 900mg of ibuprofen I just swallowed to numb the cramps, are making me feel extremely floaty and spaced out. Anyway... I guess all I'm saying is: life would be just perfect if I could pocket-shrink my family and friends (old & new) and carry them with me wherever I end up going.

Today's Fisheye: Wall-stencil in Ghent, and a well placed bush. Mind was indeed in the gutter. I do appologise.

















Today's Mp3 repeat: Catlow - Kiss the World