This is weird. I don’t think I’ve ever backspaced a beginning so many times. Surely a cross-continent relocation would give me a thing or two to say ha. Now I’m smiling almost ironically as I come to realise I feel severely uninspired in contentment. Even weirder it’s unintentionally 4 months to the day since my last post.
I always wondered what this would look like. Where I would be, what I would have done and who I would have met before I got round to putting something down (turns out, a lot). I had this beautiful vision of documenting each step of my journey, sitting seaside on the Italian Riveria pen in hand, heart in mind. It wasn’t to be, but I’m still very much in that new city infancy – hehe.
Travelling alone is cool and for sure lives up to the hype. Coming from a girl who’s been in relationships more than she’s been out of them and who will happily be handed an itinerary. Shedding the package deal status (in whatever form) works a charm and maybe makes you that little bit more approachable? Not to say I wouldn’t have loved my best buds to be along for the ride (#miss you) or dreamed of sharing scenic moments with a darling love (lol). Though nor would I change the absolute gems of humans that have come into my life over the past few weeks (you know who you are).
People seem impressed when you say you’re making the move solo, followed by the most frequently asked question prior to departure: “so what are your plans?” I didn’t really have any and kind of still don’t. Aside from setting down two VERY large suitcases in London and acquiring a backpack to see me as far as Italy and at that stage, hopefully, Croatia. From the get-go, I finally fully appreciated the term ‘luggage’ and reminisced times of switching for the lighter load (aka not this time).
Leaving was less sad than expected. Very strange for a sensitive pet like myself. The London lifestyle had been on my radar for the last few years but I’d made a promise to myself never to use it as an escape. I would go only at my most settled, when friendships felt forever and I had nothing but good to return to. This was the single best/most sensible decision I’ve ever made.
6 crazy weeks have gone by (albeit half of them travelling) and I’m waiting to hate it. Every person I spoke to prepared me for a miserable first few months, filled with homesickness and hard times. To be fair I haven’t started work yet and my bank account has taken a beating. But other than watching my New Zealand dollars halve with every neon Monzo swipe, I can’t complain. Life is good.
The honeymoon period is well and truly coming to end with work starting tomorrow and a new flat in T-11 days! Shit’s getting real and as per the theme of my life, I have no idea what to expect.
Send luck x