Departure and arrival
I write this sitting in a hammock. That is, all of me is in the hammock, except for my other hand, which is nursing a 40p rum and Coke. Which you are free - and quite right - to take as a good thing. And I’m in the market for good things. That is, after all, the point of the exercise. See the world, visit some amazing places, grow as a person and all that jazz. Today, at least, I feel like I have racked up a small victory somewhere.
It hasn’t all been plain sailing though. To go back to the start, I got up stupidly early on New Year’s Day, said an emotional farewell to Lauren and bus-plane-bused my way from Oxford to Cancún. Which despite the glamorous destination sounds less than idyllic. The flight was late leaving and at the other end waiting for baggage and then bus seemed to take an eternity. I should probably get used to the pace of life but I suspect in reality I was simply tired and grumpy. Being awake for 24 hours and spending them in transit will probably do that for you. Still, I eventually made it to the hostel and was out of it not long after.
I was here - but should I have come? The answer on the first day was in all honesty possibly not. Siberian air con with but a sheet for warmth did not make for a good night’s sleep in spite of my exhaustion. The new reality of shared dorms, shared bathrooms and shared existence was a shock to the system. I was not in Kansas any more. Jet lag probably didn’t help but leaving behind my friends, family and fiancée, my comfortable life to live out of a backpack for three months, suddenly seemed like an insane decision. Beforehand I worried I would be too old, too fragile, too damn lonely to do this and the first day brought all of these things to the surface.
Cancún didn’t help. There are essentially two things to do in the city - beaches and partying - and while I do know that when it’s time to party I will always party hard, that time was definitely not now. Which left the beach. Following a breakfast of tacos (when in Rome) and cactus (bit odd but far from inedible) I spent a while trying to get my bearings and not feel too sorry for myself. The advertised sunshine had failed to materialise, being instead overcast and windy, but I was determined to go see why this is such a popular resort destination. As it was, I spent some time on a lounger (sun lounger would be a misnomer here) grimly reading away and having sand blown at me. All in all it was quite the quintessential British seaside jaunt.
Fortunately the next day burned brighter, both literally and figuratively. I felt calmer and more on the level and I don’t know if this was pathetic fallacy but the sun was shining and I got myself together. I felt better for sorting out the next couple of moves, having waded through the intricacies of Mexican bureaucracy (read: trying and failing to buy bus tickets online) and went to try another beach. The weather continued to mostly play ball, the sea was at least something resembling the brilliant colour of the photographs and I started to think that maybe this might just be fun after all.
Sure, it’s early days yet, I’m three days and just one bit (country - geddit?) into my odyssey and there will no doubt be plenty more ups and downs to come. But while departing was hard, I do at least feel I have now arrived.
It hasn’t all been plain sailing though. To go back to the start, I got up stupidly early on New Year’s Day, said an emotional farewell to Lauren and bus-plane-bused my way from Oxford to Cancún. Which despite the glamorous destination sounds less than idyllic. The flight was late leaving and at the other end waiting for baggage and then bus seemed to take an eternity. I should probably get used to the pace of life but I suspect in reality I was simply tired and grumpy. Being awake for 24 hours and spending them in transit will probably do that for you. Still, I eventually made it to the hostel and was out of it not long after.
I was here - but should I have come? The answer on the first day was in all honesty possibly not. Siberian air con with but a sheet for warmth did not make for a good night’s sleep in spite of my exhaustion. The new reality of shared dorms, shared bathrooms and shared existence was a shock to the system. I was not in Kansas any more. Jet lag probably didn’t help but leaving behind my friends, family and fiancée, my comfortable life to live out of a backpack for three months, suddenly seemed like an insane decision. Beforehand I worried I would be too old, too fragile, too damn lonely to do this and the first day brought all of these things to the surface.
Cancún didn’t help. There are essentially two things to do in the city - beaches and partying - and while I do know that when it’s time to party I will always party hard, that time was definitely not now. Which left the beach. Following a breakfast of tacos (when in Rome) and cactus (bit odd but far from inedible) I spent a while trying to get my bearings and not feel too sorry for myself. The advertised sunshine had failed to materialise, being instead overcast and windy, but I was determined to go see why this is such a popular resort destination. As it was, I spent some time on a lounger (sun lounger would be a misnomer here) grimly reading away and having sand blown at me. All in all it was quite the quintessential British seaside jaunt.
Fortunately the next day burned brighter, both literally and figuratively. I felt calmer and more on the level and I don’t know if this was pathetic fallacy but the sun was shining and I got myself together. I felt better for sorting out the next couple of moves, having waded through the intricacies of Mexican bureaucracy (read: trying and failing to buy bus tickets online) and went to try another beach. The weather continued to mostly play ball, the sea was at least something resembling the brilliant colour of the photographs and I started to think that maybe this might just be fun after all.
Sure, it’s early days yet, I’m three days and just one bit (country - geddit?) into my odyssey and there will no doubt be plenty more ups and downs to come. But while departing was hard, I do at least feel I have now arrived.
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