Where am i at?

Where am i at?  13.09.16

Where I am at is not about where i am, but the journey i am on. I may be in the same physical place but be on a different journey every day. It is the accumulation of these journeys that leads to travel experience. Today i have been on a journey of self indulgence, of introspection, of exploration, thinking and planning. What do i want, where will i go, why and what for and who are the people that i might choose to spend a while with on my immediate journey along the way.

I sit here now at 6pm reviewing my writing. I am looking at the lighthouse, wondering if i might find a symbol to match my journey each day and think the lighthouse would be good for today. i have been viewing my options, finding my way. There will be rocks, i may steer a different course but for now the lighthouse is enough. It is square, i have seen it several times before, even taken a photograph of without knowing it might have been here, waiting for this moment. 
The sun is sinking behind the tourist office that helped ground me on my arrival. My day has passed on a drifting tide of internet, one thing affecting the next, patterns slowly building. It is as though i have already begun my journey home, left my travelling self behind. i have taken advantage of having a whole day to think, plan and make contact with others. 10.30am until 6pm. Sitting in one seat. Not moving save for looking up for a while to eat the vegetable feta salad i brought with me. 

My day did not start out this way but this is how it is so often. My plans morph into another world. I began by reading my posts since i entered Denmark and enjoyed, at times, was moved by the importance of my words. i was touched that i seem to write with positivity even when i have often felt anything other than that. 

I enjoyed reading my writing, began to think it might be worth doing something with, and was surprised by that. I had felt that with my change in audience, my writing had become mundane. I have felt, not as though writing for myself, to vent and to clarify but writing knowing others are reading and with that, has come an imperative to write something, anything and i have often thought my words flat. Perhaps i have just done a good editing job. Perhaps my perception of myself is flawed.

Half an hour ago a council worker came and removed two thirds of the ‘Boris’ bikes from oustside the station. I thought it odd, thought rushhour might mean they may be needed and i have watched progress as numbers have increased and dwindled and now, at 6.15pm, all the racks are empty.

I thought i was visiting the museum today, going swimming, finally going to turning turso before using the internet at the station. I decided instead to take the bus to the station, not walk and to use the internet early, clear the decks leaving me ready to enjoy my last day. I had made a list of all the connections i needed to make, the ends i neded to tie.

I have enjoyed my last day, have felt very peaceful and engaged. It is the first time i have caught the bus to the station, such spoiling on another scorcher. I understand this is a heatwave. I have not overheated all day, have not felt frustrated, have barely even moved in fact, sitting in the shady hall, with table and chair, only noticing the time through the actions of those around me. The smell of food as they came to eat at lunchtime, the realisation that lunch time must be long over when nobody else brought food for some time, the solitary young man who played with his phone in a desultory manner for what might have been two hours. A woman, my age, sitting typing beside me and i remember i apologised for i was talking to myself, trying to work something out but she was as lost in her world as i in mine so need not have worried.
The hours drift and i do not notice them pass.

I have said i need to keep my time free once home until i have completed the majority of tasks i need to do but have now filled every evening and two days in my first week home with friends. Fretting and trying to arrange times with people once home will cut into my organisation. Having time schedules may help me be more focussed, more efficient in my tasks. 

On top of that i have contacted Jonathan Lorie, asked to meet on a day in London, seek advice and direction, clarification. I have made contact with Another Escape, a new travel journal whose owner/editors i met on my first night in the Faroes, have finally purchased a copy of their magazine now that i have an address of my own, for two weeks, at home. I will read hard copy more carefully than i am able to read on line to ascertain whether i think i want them. I ask, do they want an oldies perspective, it all feels very youth biased but think i made an impression, they wanted to hear my stories, said they hoped our paths might cross again. I could just write a submission but know that if i get an invitation to submit i am far more likley for any submission to be read so it is the invitation that i seek. Thats another thing i remember from Jonathan Lorie. Maybe i might book in on another weekend course while im in Cornwall.

It is 7pm, a few bikes have been returned but instantly taken again, the racks remain empty, such strange behaviour to remove bikes at a critical hour. I should go, my bag is not yet packed, i dont want to leave. Not i dont want to leave tomorrow but i dont want to leave this spot right now. oh my goodness! The same young man has brought bikes back! Fourteen of them! Rushour has passed. Why might you service bikes at rushhour if that is what has been done? How bizarre.

No, i need go, get closer to home, buy myself food. My day has all gone roundabout. I thought i would pack and then go out for food on my last evening, not leave my packing until after spending my last pennies, on food and beer.

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