Kinda curious what’s it like coming home after a long trip? Well let me tell you, everything is the same, shockingly so but you’re slightly different, not so shockingly so. Seriously feels like you haven’t missed a minute, as a friend said it’s like you were gone in a weird time machine into some alternate universe and you reappear as though nothing has changed except everything has from your point of view…
Coming home is a time to unwind from a long trade which took you throughout the world. It’s also a time to realize that there is a whole world out there. When you’re out in the wilderness, you forget the comforts of camp. You also quickly realize why you left the camp because creature comforts mean very little to you. Give me a 5 star hotel or a tarp tied with 5 pieces of home made rope and I’m good to go. It’s where you spend your day that matters most, not where you spend your night.
Everything I used to put a lot of value on, seems to mean little if not nothing. It doesn’t matter if you sweep the streets or game wall street. If you’re living the 9-5 deloca you’re on the same treadmill and in the same traffic jams. You’re also going to the same very predictable outcome only with leather seats and slightly more leg room. Think of it as 1st class to economy on a flight. You’re all going to the same place, one way is just considerably more expensive and marginally more comfortable.
Your friends if they were your friends, stayed the same. Catching up with everyone is difficult because there is a time of unwinding where personally, I’ve become like an acne ridden 17 year old living at home. Sleeping all day and staying up all night doing stuff that really doesn’t need to be done, ever. Some people are married, some are divorced but most are the same only two years older… Also shocking how fast you go back into your “Hometown Self” whatever the $@#$ that means.
Looking at my hometown I see a finely tuned machine running on all cylinders. Remember being a tiny bolt in such said machine but as part of the machine, was hard to see the entire machine. Now I’m not even a small bolt, not even a drop of diesel in the engine. I’m simply a random gent sipping on a strong coffee looking at the machine run while moon walking with a mask on. It’s nice but different, very different.
My experience is slightly different than most because at anytime I could just book a flight and be gone again and will do so eventually. Some friends who recently came home say it’s depressing as they now know of all the craziness, excitement and uncertainty that’s going on RIGHT NOW elsewhere in the world but are caught in this very predictable routine. It’s like a dog who was let off the leash and had the time of his / her life attending meat parties then to be put back in a cage with an owner who is only home an hour after work and too lazy to take you for that walk but always gets after you if you have an accident, yeah that’s it.
Seeing friends and family is why I’m home. It took me 5 years to get the guts to finally ditch it all and still no regrets. Ottawa isn’t my home anymore, it’s my hometown. It’s the place you come to visit your friends and stay at your parents. Coming home has let me see that the decision I made was the right one. Despite the highs and the lows of an unstable lifestyle, it’s something that has to be done for some.
Heading to Boston next week then back here then not sure. Time will tell and have grandiose plans of seeing some other cool stuff in the region. It’s just odd how on the other side of the world you’re over zealous even to see random stuff you never heard of until yesterday yet at home, a 30 minute drive to something cool is like a snooze fest.