I would fail at being the self-proclaimed writer if I cannot put into words the trip that I took. It is a huge deal for me to be able to go out on a solo trip being a girl and coming from a Gujarati Indian family. Yet upsetting more than one person in my life, I walk out of my house, only to find my happy place within.
Do I find my peace? No, but sure as hell I start my journey to peace. I level up in finding my way to the exit. The exit that I believe is not death. But I died a bit on this trip. Haven’t all of us been there? A part of us dying only so a new seed has space to emerge.
A person told me that it is you stepping up in life. People, I met on this trip were of varied intentions, of varied behavior, of them one thing was common that they all were surprised and awed that I am taking a trip alone.
I had come across, many a time, the thought-provoking idea that,
“It is not the destination that matters but the journey.”
I can now, with a little experience, assure that. As much as I was at peace the moment I reached the hilltop, the climb, too, made a difference in my life. Destinations. Journey. About the same thing that happened to me, that happens in all self-discovering movies, I set out to reach somewhere, I end up diverting the route, and diverting the route is the best thing that can happen to anyone, trust me. At least to me, it was, trust me.
So, I go to a new city. Madwoman in the city full of ruins. Among that ruins, I felt good. I felt comfort. This city had its share of vice and virtue. I learned, more like someone told me that I am the sun, that I have pretty colors within and I should let them out.
You might already know something but when someone, for me random strangers, tells it in a certain way, at a certain time, it makes a difference. And I grabbed a lot of such advice on this trip.
Another such person told me that I am stuck in the past and the future and I am losing my present. And that it is doing no good to me, so I should not do it. So that is exactly what I mean to do. Live in present. Pour out my colors.
One thing at a time.
And when I came back to my house after a week-long trip
I realized it was one of my happy place
. I realized that no matter how many differences I have with my people,
they are my people. That they will care. They will love.
They will fight. They will shout. They will disagree.
Yet no matter what, they will still be my people and keep being that.
And that I like them just the way they are.
I like how I end all my travel blogs by realizing that home is where the family is but my wandering heart can’t stick at one place and that is why
I will go away, only so I can come back.
Pro trip- Traveling solo = carry only a bagpack.