I’m not going to lie, but this time I really don’t know why I’m back in los angeles. My trip felt way too short. I was already out of my suitcase and getting used to not having the same bed any few days. I was used to walking several miles a day and rewearing pants. I liked meeting new people and the excitement of not planning my days and living with the flow.
Its not that I don’t miss my friends, there are moments I do…but when you meet other backpackers, you all live in the same mentality. No one is living for security, everyone is a nomad.
I miss that already and have no idea why I’m back.
Next time I’m seriously moving, I’m tired of going back and forth. I want to give it all up for who I really am.
I realize after talking to my roommate, trying to explain my trip… is like trying to explain a beautiful piece of art with words, you just can’t. I can’t explain my trip at all with sufficiency…you just have to backpack on your own to understand what I felt. And of course, the amount of partying I do as well, well you know me, I’m beyond other people. When I backpack, I pack my days with friends and fun more so than others.
You can imagine how my trip was, no, you can’t. Even as I sit in my room right now, life is so quiet, so normal. There’s nothing that is new in a constant room, a house. When you travel, you sleep in an unknown bed, next to 10 people in bunk beds, you never know if the music will be too loud or if people will walk in and start shouting. You don’t know where the bus is taking you, you carry maps and its’ wrinkled at the end.
It’s just indescribable, it can’t be compared to “vacations” or people who stay at 5 star hotels. It can’t be planned, it’s a backpackers’ journey. The mentality is completely different from normal life. I’ll try to write more about it another day. Right now I’m so jet lagged I can’t think.