States: 20.5 Days: 116 Miles: 27,426
So turns out that 116 days is just about when I need a break from travelling. I very nearly wrote that I was sick of travelling, but that will never be true. I just need a break from it. As you probably know, I have planned hundreds of things to see and do on my way around the states and each and every one of them have been a great experience – even the disappointing ones! However, there is definitely something about spending no more than two or three nights in places and getting up every day to move on to see the next sight that is starting to feel a bit mechanical. Like I’m just ticking off targets, rather than actually exploring the world around me.
Add to that the uncomfortable sleeps: In the UK I always sleep with (internal) doors and windows open and love to wake up with natural light, so keep curtains open at night. I can’t do any of that in motels or hostels, so I don’t sleep well and feel stuffy and claustrophobic most of the time. Camping is a nice experience though! Add to that a chest infection that has taken weeks to abate, and my sleep pattern is way off, making me much less susceptible to bouncing out of bed full of joy each morning. As much as I love rain and thunderstorms, they aren’t particularly conducive to getting up and out and going hiking for the day, and I seem to be following one massive thunderstorm all the way up from Mississippi to DC. I’ve found myself taking quite a few ‘rest days’, where I basically sit in the dark motel room and binge watch American TV shows. I do also read and plan and research, but I still feel grotty about it, like I’m wasting an opportunity.
To add insult to injury, a whole bunch of great people back in the UK are having a particularly tough time right now and I wish I could be there to help them. Whilst there is nothing material I can actually do to help any of them, I feel helpless being so far away and feel selfish for living out my dream whilst things are going so wrong elsewhere.
I am watching it rain into a lake outside, which is usually a lovely spiritual experience for me, but I am sad and grumpy. I need to snap out of it. One of my favourite people in the world is getting married in Malta in April and I had ummed and ahed about whether I could go. The only reasons not to would have been the fear of immigration not letting me back into the country, therefore ruining the rest of my plan, and losing the poeticism of spending 12 months solid travelling the 50 states. Well, to hell with poeticism. I was on the fence about the immigration risk until fairly recently, but in light of my grumpiness, I have now decided to go to the wedding. I need a break and if I keep going just to keep going then I’m not going to enjoy it, which would be stupid. It will be a bitter-sweet third visit to Malta, but I will get to see some lovely people, see a wonderful man marry the love of his life, and be guaranteed sunshine and beautiful surrounds. Just the thought of being back in Valletta is calming me and raising my spirits. If home is where the people are, I live in the UK. If home is where the spirit is, I live in Morocco. But if home is where the heart is, then I live in Malta.