At the age of 16 I boarded a plane in Jackson, Mississippi. A day later I was lugging my suitcase through the streets of Madrid. Everything was a sharp contrast to my life in Jackson: The urban planning, the architecture, the food, the history, the fashion, the textures, the scents and sounds of the city.
Even the mailboxes were different.
Trudging to the hotel in my bleary eyed, rumpled, jetlagged state, l realised that a world — or rather entire ways of living — existed beyond what I knew or could imagine.
There are many variations on how we live, navigate, exist, love, and construct our world.
And they are just that, variations. Not wrongs and rights. They are certainly not ultimate truths, but rather endless possibilities of how we can show up and exist in the world. And endless possibilities as to how we can exist with and within our environment.
When I find myself not in the healthiest of mental states, struggling to see light, beauty, and hope (it happens to all of us, I think) I remind myself of this. Variations exist in the world even if I’m not able to see or imagine it at the moment.
I arrived in Almuñécar yesterday, with my family, bleary eyed, rumpled, jet-lagged.
We are staying in a house with a blue door at the top of a hill with a rooftop patio that looks out to the beach and a castle (…as you do).
For the first time in a long time, I’m seeing colours and smelling scents. I’m noticing the textures and nuances and beauty that I’ve been overlooking for a while now.
More travelling thoughts to come… I’m writing mostly for myself. As a writing practice, but also as a reminder to my future self. That there exists beauty in the world, in ourselves, and in each other. Even if some days it’s difficult to see.
I invite you in to join me on my travel journey.