THE BACKPACKER

(Australia)

Trapped.
Stale - need a change. Need to leave.
Fantasy.
I can go ... anywhere?
Beginning to organise. It’s real!
Excitement. Insecurity. Unknown.
Fear. Future. Happiness. Letting go. Confident.
The airport. Fluorescent lights. Expensive everything.
Trained friendly people who could care little about my emotional stew.
Waiting to board. Waiting
Anticipation for beginning my journey or finally saying goodbye.
Time.
Saying goodbye. Sadness and an overwhelming feeling of reality - the dreaming has ended.
The gentle thud of the doors closing echoing in my ears.

SLAP!
Customs! Customs! CUSTOMS!!
It was if someone had slapped me with a cold, wet fish.
Paperwork. Delays. Boredom. Frustration.
Filling out forms until my eyes cloud over.
Boarding.
Empty greetings and smiles. Protocol!
People chatting nervously. Baggage rustling.
Tourists. Business. People returning home.
An Excited nervousness I feel.
The pilot wishes everyone an enjoyable and memorable flight.
The engines spinning nearly as fast as my mind. The exhaust my past life; my past self.
A journey. Discovery.
Pre - cooked, processed, reheated airline food - edible with a glass of red.
Sleeping infrequently.
Television monitors remind me every minute of the altitude - so I am educated on how far I can fall: the temperature outside - guaranteeing me That I would freeze if a window blew out; and how long to the destination - just so I know how much longer I have to sit next to this human shaped garlic.

Arrival.
Confusion - act natural.
Follow the crowds - avoid armed guards!
Customs! Customs! CUSTOMS!!
Waiting for baggage is like a birth. I am not sure of defects, but anticipate a smooth delivery.
I see it! I see it! It’s ... It’s a ... Backpack!
I leave the airport with healthy backpack and the following words tattooed on my forehead: “Naive, innocent. Please take my money!”
Taxi drivers and hotel touts launch at you.
Within an instant, they have consumed you.
Confused and bewildered.
I grab a taxi, or should I say , it grabbed me
Careful, watchful - edging paranoia.
Who will steal my bags?
Morning.
Unsure. Dreamy. Excited. Is this real?
What to do? Where to go? Its up to me?
AAAAAAAHHHH! Guidebook - my friend.
Am I really here? My body is here, where is my mind?
Eyes boggling, overly dressed in garish western labels, Pentax around my neck.
Am I fitting in?
People staring; people begging.
“Leave me alone!” I screamed as loudly as I could in my confused, overwhelmed mind.
Meet fellow tourists. Calm and reassuring.

Self belief.
Insecurities now secure.
Balance, calm - fellowships and guidebook keep me sane.
Homesick and lonely, but not alone.
My resistance is turning acceptance - independence growing.
I am wary but now street smart - outsmarting the tourist hungry ‘bugs’.
The sights. The smells. The noise.
Each place characteristic of its own. Defining in my acceptance.
The people, the places and many many races.
Differences are quirky, individually characteristic and sometimes amusing.
Their interest in me; my interest in them. An invisible barrier, waiting to be smashed, exists only without communication.
“Hello”. Nothing.
I smile. A nod of his head.
A laugh. A smile. We shake hands.
Fondness and acceptance.
Happiness and openness - the true universal language.

This place is great!
I am missing home, but have found a grounding - no departure yet.
The adventure has begun.
Will I come back different?
Will I come back?
Did I really go? Did I notice?
Home. Safe. Routine.
Habit. Rut. Trapped. Stale.
Fantasy.
I can go anywhere!