Everything costs something.
There are countless quotes to this effect ranging from pithy to pragmatic. We can all have what we want if we are prepared to pay for it. Problem with that being, we often do not know what things will cost until we find that they are far too expensive.
Travel is a fickle mistress, I am deeply and eternally in Love with her in all her fucked up, unpredictable glory. The costs of being on the move all the time aren’t merely the strain on one’s purse strings, but also a long and ongoing struggle to nurture relationships or throw down roots and watch things grow. There’s also a shitload of stress involved. Customs, baggage, flights, cancelations, accommodation, strange foods, a myriad of phrase books and awkward conversations using Google translate. It can be hard on your system, your brain, and your heart.
It’s absolutely worth it though.
I’ve recently come to the conclusion that the planet is pretty fucked. Like royally. Like, I don’t have the ability to do much in the face of the catastrophic failure and reboot that is soon going to be upon us. I feel like the bartender at the start of Hitchiker’s Guide to the Galaxy asking “well, should I put a paper bag over my head or something?” and then unceremoniously being obliterated by a Vogon ship. Without even being able to hear some of their fantastic Vogon poetry. I digress.
Being that I figure we are pretty royally fucked and our chances to recover have come and gone so many times that our luck as a species could well be running out, I have decided to act in the following ways (which I genuinely feel are staggeringly appropriate):
- Keep trying to bail out this Titanic sized disaster with the little itty bitty teaspoon I have at my disposal. Ima keep on fighting till we hit absolute rock bottom kids. Day and fucking night bringing that fight.
- Do things. Feel things. See things. Preferably with the people I Love the most. Most obviously on the top of that list of course, is my long suffering husband Phteven. Talking to him more than I do when we are in the same country, and while it is totally yummy to miss him, I’d much rather just be able to kiss him. Luckily next week I can.
- See the world, meet new people, Love the absolute shit out of as much stuff as I can get by hands and heart on.
- Tell and show people I adore them (unless I don’t because then I won’t) because our lives and time are precious, and saying a sincere thank you costs nothing but pays the recipient as well as the person paying it forward in dividends.
Today was a fairly interesting example of crossing shit off this list. My mom and I both managed to not understand that our flight to London was yesterday, and when we got to my good friend Krissy’s house just before we were due to catch the plane, we realized that we should have been on the flight yesterday. Not super fucking ideal really.
Small but mighty freak out commenced. Phone call to AirNZ to plead absolute stupidity and throw myself at their mercy was initiated. Through the entire ordeal, Krissy was as cool as a cucumber and made me laugh. Her 18 year old daughter Xanthe had a fairly reasonable chuckle at our expense and bonded with my mom a bit in the kitchen while I got to know a woman named Judi at the air New Zealand reservations desk really REALLY well.
Do not miss your flight. If at all possible, do not do this thing as it is a pain in the ass and requires calm and will send you on a phenomenal roller coaster of emotions.
This trip is done on the cheap. The flights were booked a very long time ago during one of those short lived sales that our national carrier often has. Therefore, the terms and conditions of the flight meant that a no-show would render the entire onwards journey as null and void.
Hearing this news, we were ready just to pack up and go the fuck home.
But after much begging, apologizing and some incredibly well-timed jokes (that was me, I am actually hilarious under pressure) we managed to sort the whole mess out with only a change of ticket fee attached to the situation.
So here I am. Tired as a tired thing. Having said goodbye to my dear friend after a brief but brilliant catch up, then onto the airport to check in, and then cruising past the long and languishing goodbye hugs, kisses and lovers embraces at the customs gate, I am sat here with two sleeping boys and a tired Granny bear at the wrong end of the fucking airport. Our flight departs from gate 31 and we are at gate one. Because, that’s the kind of fucking day this has been.
We’re off to see more friends and do more things. New adventures in Iceland where I have not yet been are sending my thoughts all a flutter. Seeing my soulmate in the greyest city on earth (Berlin) at the Hubject conference and then carrying on to collect the kids and bring them back to New Zealand with only my own two hands and stunning intellect and strength to get the three of us safely to the other side of the planet, well, it is all an amazing privilege and incredible adventure.
There’s more eating me up at the moment. Loss, grief, stress… But between tearful outbursts I get to people watch and connect with strangers and new and old friends.
So what am I trying to say here? Simple really… Travel is a fucking nightmare. It is stressful, it is expensive, it is often too hot or too cold, you feel like you’ve been gone to long or not long enough. It can be awesome, it can be awful, and always unexpected and frequently truly magical.
Now I get to wake two incredibly sleepy boys up and march their tired asses to the other end of the terminal. Tomorrow I will be in London with friends.
Today was a total clusterfuck, but I’ll take 20 more just like it if it means I get to keep chasing the magic.
Goodnight. Thank you for reading.
XXOO