One week left in Sydney. One week left in Sydney. oneweekoneweekoneweekoneweeksydneysydneysydneysydney
I could repeat this to myself a million times more right now and it still would appear to be immune to the powers of gravity, a dream of an idea hovering just outside of my day to day life.
Yet, this shit is real. The Sydney chapter is ending and armed with a week of Duolingo spanish training, “all” of my Sydney pennies, a sketch of a plan and a bag full of active wear, I’m hightailing it on out of here to the enigmatic, awesome landscapes of South America.
The countdown truly has begun, and as the days disappear, a few things you wish you thought about earlier come to play:
I really wish i’d learnt more then how to say my name in Spanish. Was quitting my job really such a good idea. Probably should have saved a bit more coin (Definitely). Yep I really should have learnt more Spanish. Have I got enough Gastro-stop? Which part of South America is Argentina again? Holy shit, Brazil is THAT big…Have I got too many pairs of tights? Not enough Jumpers? Wait, what’s the plan if i get robbed?!
It’s those pre-travel jitters. The backpacking butterflies. Your mind kicks into overdrive. The emptiness in the pit of your gut grows as the clock ticks down. That little belly dropper before you start to feel really damn high. It’s nauseating. It’s arousing.
I fucking love it.
There’s no better feeling then knowing nothing much more then that what lies ahead is one hell of an adventure. Where you can turn left, right, upside down, at any time and all that really matters is that you’ve got life by it’s balls and you’re working it your way.
7 days to go.