Ladies and gentlemen, this is it. The Unhurried Journey, after almost four years, is over.
I started in November 2019, leaving my home with a grand plan to see more than half of the world overland. Little did I know. One relationship, one pandemic, and one Dahab later, I have not seen nearly as much as I thought I would.
The cliche is true. Life gave me what I needed, not what I wanted. This journey, right from the beginning, wasn’t really about travelling. It was about life.
Lots of it happened – life. Looking back, it is clear how travelling was merely a fertiliser, a fast forward button, where all the things that needed to come about for my growth unfolded.
Slowly, through partnership, studies and work, life took on a different shape. A home, routine, stability. Now, this is what I need to grow. But there was a part of me that wasn’t finished, couldn’t let go just yet. A part which knew there was still a bicycle in Istanbul. A bicycle that I parked there more than two years ago, a short trip to Egypt becoming much more. A bicycle symbolising something unfinished. So I went back.
And while there was beauty in this trip, a return and deep dive into my favourite country, its people and nature; while I am rewarded for the hardships with many a picture floating up nowadays, back home, sweeping the floor, cooking, doing the laundry, stopping for a moment to bask in what I have lived, only now truly able to appreciate it; while I was rewarded for the mountains, the elevation gain, the cold and the heat and the rain with a revelation, with the last missing piece of the puzzle, emerging out of nowhere, out of everywhere, taking me high up, I know. It’s over.
What being all alone in my tent in some forest, what standing at the side of the road with my thumb out, what being invited into a local’s home once gave me, it can no longer.
Travel will always be a part of my life, but the journey is over. This journey. Beginnings and Endings. The end of one thing is but the beginning of the next.