It’s safe to say that after 1 year, 2 months, 3 weeks and 4 days (these numbers are real!) I am still unable to pack my bag in an efficient manner. In fact, I think the harder I try the worse I get at it. So next time I’ll be packing I am going to adopt the policy not to think and roll up my clothes and just SHOVE.
The thought already appeals to me.
Because I am leaving. Yes. After 93 days in blistering heat and isolation I have done enough work to apply for a second year work-holiday visa should I so desire.
I have learned that I will not do this again soon. I say “soon” because you should never say “never”. I am happy I am leaving. Three months in one spot is too long for my restless soul. Also, I am craving human contact. And sushi. And a big, fat, drunk party. And a swim. And most of all: new adventures.
Because I am a wanderer!