Writing this one was hard. First off, it’s not really a story. It’s more of an observation. An essay, maybe. A whacky essay, at best. Second, I was a sick the last few days, and I was barely able to get to the computer and write. Third, I’m already a bit more confident in sharing my stories with the world, but who am I to share my thoughts?
I look for mental clarity in my life for a good few years now. I tried different approaches – some more useful than others: meditation, breathwork, yoga, durgs, journaling… Each one gave me something a little bit different, and I may look closer at them some other time. Today I will talk about traveling, again, this time from a different perspective.
In fall 2022, I went to Morocco. When I arrived, I felt strange. I always do, when I come to a new place. I felt insecure, anxious, but curious about what life had in store for me. After I unpacked in my new room, I went out, ready to take in what the place had to offer. I didn’t take the phone with me. No, I wanted to get lost in the little streets. I wanted to see what was going on. I wanted to get rid of everything that would connect me to the outer world, so that I could feel, and connect with everything around me. I wanted to spend those precious first moments in a new city alone.
The first evening, I had a dinner in a small restaurant on Place Chrib Atay. I sat on the terrace, being one of the few customers, and enjoyed the warm, soft wind blowing on my face. I watched the people walk around, locals as well as tourists. I listened to the music coming from one of the other restaurants. I watched the countless cats fight, prowl and promenade around the square, being the rightful kings and queens of the town. I inhaled the exciting smells of the local cuisine, and I listened to the wind, clamor and motorcycles in the background. I didn’t have a phone, but I took a small sketchbook and a pen with me. I drew what I saw, being immersed enough that I didn’t notice when they finally brought the food. I returned there the next day, and the day after as well, just to soak in the atmosphere, just to stay in the precious present moment a little while longer.
During the first few days, I also explored the city. In its narrow, crowded streets, I was passed by motorcycles and bikes every few seconds. Every other merchant had the best thing to offer, yet it was mostly the same as his neighbor. You could see the life as I imagine it was before. Before what? I don’t know exactly. Before we in Europe became too sterile, I guess.
My research on the internet led me to some god-forgotten ruin near the sea, outside of the town. It supposedly belonged to Hendrix before it burnt down. It was full of hippies at one point, full of drugs, and love, and life. Now it is full of sand. What remained of it. As I walked through what was left of it, I imagined how it must’ve looked like before all that. How it felt to look out of its windows, and see the endless ocean ahead. How the hippies smoked hash inside, until the locals got too tired of them, and drove them all off.
This is what I think traveling is about. Among other things. It’s about fueling the unending wonder, it’s about the days and nights spent exploring. It’s about noticing how things are different compared with other places I’ve seen before. It’s about finding the child’s wonder somewhere deep inside me.
As days passed, I was less and less focused. I began taking my phone more often, when I went out to roam. I stopped drawing. I spent more time in the virtual world, sending messages with my friends. Spending the “dead time” time hunched over the screen. The wonder went away and magic of daily activities disappeared with it.
When I temporarily moved to Poland a few months ago, I expected this sort of thing to happen again. This time, I prepared. In Morocco, after the initial rush of mindfulness went away, I found out something different stayed. I wasn’t drawing in the streets anymore, but I was able to build a new daily routine for myself. Somehow, being located in a new place granted me the pleasure of building my life anew. Armed with this knowledge, I went to Poland, thinking hard about how I will use my time. Of course, some of you will say that if I have a working system in place, there’s no need to change it when I change my location, and with that I agree. It may need a little tweaking, adaptation to the new conditions, but overall, it would still work. The thing is – I struggle to build such a routine. As my interests happen to be all over the place, my days are as well. Some time ago, I gave up on trying to be a narrowly oriented person, and permitted myself to just be me.
And so, when I came to Poland, I had some ideas about how my days there should look like. Of course, most things changed as ideas met with reality. Needless to say, it wasn’t easy. Yet, I think I was successful. I built a base of a structure which I am satisfied with. I learnt a lot over the last few months. I learnt that because I have only 24 hours in a day, I may as well use them on something I want to use them on. I learnt that there’s no need to constantly push myself to do things I don’t feel like doing. And at the same time, that sometime’s it’s necessary. I’m still learning about how to rest enough, and how to keep my body and mind healthy.
And, to conclude this – I realised that the wonder, focus and clarity don’t have to be constantly stimulated by new travel experiences. I realised that reading a good book can be enough. I learnt that I just need to sit down in the morning and breathe for few minutes to get that. That sometimes I just need to go and do the thing I want to do. That mostly, I just need to be present. Not for some romanticised version of what I think being present should mean. No, I just need to be here, every moment, every breath. Look at things I do, and think about why I do them. If I want to draw, I will draw. And if I don’t want to, then why measure myself based on it?