My first trip back to Europe has been booked, YAY!
By the time we go it will have been 8 months in Asia, I think
it’s a long enough time to go back. I have been reading about how long it’s
desirable to wait for expats before visiting home… and I have decided in my
case it’s different, as I won’t be visiting Oxford, but my previous home and
what feels like home.
It took us about 10 minutes to book tickets, while Marco was buying BA long hauls I was buying Ryanair to and from the south of Italy, like in the good old days.
Simple.
It took us about 10 minutes to book tickets, while Marco was buying BA long hauls I was buying Ryanair to and from the south of Italy, like in the good old days.
Simple.
Except for the fact it took me a good 3 weeks to understand
that not so subtle feeling of sadness, annoyance and depression was most
probably due to the fact I needed to see loved ones.
So, understanding and acceptance it was time to plan a trip was the first step.
I resisted it, as the idea of a trip in an exotic place was appealing, and I felt pressure to travel rather than going back to Italy. Fuck it; I don’t care if I’m a loser.
Then discussion with the xiansheng on what to do, how and where to go.
Next step was the one I hate the most, checking flights. It gives me a level of anxiety I struggle to describe. I hate it from the bottom of my heart. And yet I did it for at least 3 weeks no stop.
I feel sick at the pressure given by price fluctuation, at the feeling of regret for not being more organised. It resulted in me buying cigarettes instead of flights, and evenings spent with an unsettling heavy weight on my chest (il cosiddétto OVO SODO).
Truth is I am all but a planning, organised, logical human being. My actions are driven by feelings, sentiment, and stomach.
Not always good feelings, sense of guilt plays a major role in my life. That urge of making everyone happy to the point I no longer know what makes me happy.
It has been hard but a cold and white (hopefully literally) Christmas is on the horizon, chats on our life in Asia in front of an open fire are only over a month away, singing and dancing with the girls will make all this struggle worth it. And my heart is already melting at the prospect of spending time with the cutest Italian-English-Norwegian speaking spiderman I have ever seen.
I am now hopeful for a peaceful pre-holiday and pre-crazy-travel time.
So, understanding and acceptance it was time to plan a trip was the first step.
I resisted it, as the idea of a trip in an exotic place was appealing, and I felt pressure to travel rather than going back to Italy. Fuck it; I don’t care if I’m a loser.
Then discussion with the xiansheng on what to do, how and where to go.
Next step was the one I hate the most, checking flights. It gives me a level of anxiety I struggle to describe. I hate it from the bottom of my heart. And yet I did it for at least 3 weeks no stop.
I feel sick at the pressure given by price fluctuation, at the feeling of regret for not being more organised. It resulted in me buying cigarettes instead of flights, and evenings spent with an unsettling heavy weight on my chest (il cosiddétto OVO SODO).
Truth is I am all but a planning, organised, logical human being. My actions are driven by feelings, sentiment, and stomach.
Not always good feelings, sense of guilt plays a major role in my life. That urge of making everyone happy to the point I no longer know what makes me happy.
It has been hard but a cold and white (hopefully literally) Christmas is on the horizon, chats on our life in Asia in front of an open fire are only over a month away, singing and dancing with the girls will make all this struggle worth it. And my heart is already melting at the prospect of spending time with the cutest Italian-English-Norwegian speaking spiderman I have ever seen.
I am now hopeful for a peaceful pre-holiday and pre-crazy-travel time.
r.
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