On my flight home I could not have been more excited. The thirty or so hours in transit were worse then usual because all I could about was being home in my own bed. As I made my way through border control a smile took over my face. Hearing the familiar twang of the typical Australian accent and the stereotypical Cheers and Mates (stereotypes for a reason) throughout border control and customs told me I was home. The warm humid air outside brought to me the smell of Australia, countries really do smell differently, I was definitely.
As I walked into my room for the first time it felt foreign yet familiar all at the same time, my bed perfectly made as I left it. My first night in my bed was not as enjoyable as expected, my bed was now strange, way too comfortable compared to the budget hostels and camping of the past six months. It took me only 2 days to unpack everything and have my room back in perfect working order, it took 3 days for me to get over my jet lag and fall back into the swing of the household and a week to see everyone I really needed to see.
Now a month on and I almost feel although I have never left. I had a picturesque vision of arriving home and everything having changed, my life was going to be amazing. In my mind I would immediately find a job, become the fit, rebuild my finances and be attending awesome social events every weekend. I was going to be doing new and exciting things all the time and preparing for another trip by the end of the year.
This fabulous fantasy I built up in my head was very wrong. Not much in my house or my family has changed. We still have the ugly, worn out, straw foot rest, my brother still sits in the stuffy study cramped up in front of the computer every night and I seem to settle in to my old spot on our cushy couch in front of our TV every night. Everyone has there same jobs and most of my friends still enjoy the same parties and night spots. The problem with all this is, I have changed. Not the massive type of physical visible change that everyone comments on, it is much more internal then that. The ratty foot rest now annoys me, sitting in front of television makes me restless and frustrated, I’m unemployed, I’m broke and partying seems a waste of money.
I have to look for work, prepare for university and get into life again. The waiting is the hardest. Now I’m not saying that travelling has destroyed my ambition or turned me into a wannabe wandering nomad, in fact it has done the opposite. I am more ambitious and driven then ever, travelling taught me that you have to take advantage of every opportunity- not everyone is so lucky. So the problem exactly?
In reality there is no problem, it is up to me to entertain myself to find something to work for. The issue is only temporary, once I start university and get a job I will be complaining about my lack of free time so why not make the most of it now? To be honest you need to have too much free time to appreciate being busy and vice versa, so it’ s even more of a good thing. My main point is travelling does change you, even if others don’t see it and it can be hard to assimilate into normal life again. I think its important to stay true to these changes and there is no real reason to not be doing something you find new or exciting everyday. Life is too short to waste free time.