Back in the Game

A mere 24 hours and an unforgettable story. Few people are crazy enough to decide in 30 seconds and to organize in five minutes an overnight return home – 1200 km by plane and rental car – to retrieve a small but decisive piece of paper and continue their planned journey.

But I'm not normal. I do crazy shit like that. And irrespective of what's to come, I know it was worth it.

In times of frequent operational irregularities, I was impressed by the smooth sailing from Dubrovnik via Munich to Frankfurt, to picking up my rental car and grabbing dinner at the Thai place at the airport, to driving home and finding my registration papers right where I expected to, to a great night's sleep—

No! Actually, I did not sleep well. In the beautiful home I built as a contrast to my jetset life, the home that no longer feels right, I woke up with the racing heart and thoughts of responsibility I've come to know so well again weighing heavy on me.

Time to make changes!

Eight hours later, I'm reunited with my camper, as if nothing happened. But so much did! It feels so right to smell the sultry air, see the trees full of ripe figs at the roadside. It feels much more like home than the place I built as a home.

Life is full of lessons.

This time, the border crossing is uneventful. The customs guard in Montenegro asks me to roll down my rear window. Seeing my homemade wardrobe, he asks in his heavy Slavic accent: "Whooat is diis?" I blank, can't think of the word "wardrobe", doubting he'd understand anyway. I point to the rooftop tent, saying I'm driving to Albania to go camping. "Oooh, caaamping, ookieeey, bye."

Well, then! Bye!Baca lagi