I'm starting this post from Cookie Cafe in Banja Luka, Bosnia and Herzegovina (although Banja Luka is technically the largest city in the Republika Srpska...). I'm already feeling guilty about the lengthy time I've lingered, as every table in this cute little cafe is occupied by happy couples chatting over tea, wine, cookies and cake, and all I've ordered is a hot chocolate.
The barista seems far too pleasant to give me the, "you should probably leave soon" stare, but my conscious is giving me the stare from the inside.
Oh well. Maybe my conscious will manipulate me into buying a glass of wine. There are worse things.
It begins.
Kaya accompanied me to the bus station this morning. We rode tram #5 all the way there, and I tried to swallow my horrible fear of being caught without a ticket (Kaya assured me that nobody checks on weekends, but that information did little to assuage my thundering heart).
The things that scare me. Gosh. I'm fine going to Bosnia and Herzegovina by myself and staying in the homes of total strangers is no big deal, but riding a tram without a ticket?
Someone kill me now.
We found my platform without a hitch, but then discovered, much to my dismay, that I had to pay to check my luggage under the bus.
Shit, I'd forgotten all about that. I think I took... one bus in the Balkans two years ago. From Dubrovnik to Herceg Novi. And I did have to pay to check my luggage. Other than that, I just hitched.
"I don't have any kunas!" I exclaimed. "Shoot. Umm... no kunas... no euros... just a pound coin and a two franc coin... and an Icelandic krona. None of which are helpful."
Kaya grabbed the pound and scurried off to the exchange office, like a horde of disgruntled gnomes were chasing her. I remained glued to the spot, looking pathetic and anxious. The bus driver approached me and asked for my ticket. I showed him. Then I blurted out lots of English that he didn't understand about my distressing lack of kunas and thrust my two franc coin at him. He picked it up, turned it over, and eyeballed it.
My heart leaped.
Then the stern fellow shook his head and handed me back my coin.
Crap. Okay. What to do, what to do... It only costs 8 kuna to check a bag... I could just withdraw some cash, but if I withdraw from an ATM, it's a five dollar fee to withdraw any amount of money. So... I would pay five dollars to withdraw 8 kunas. Which is one dollar. That doesn't make any sense.
By that time, Kaya came racing back, out of breath and disappointed.
"They don't exchange coins!"
By that time, the bus driver had witnessed enough of our suffering, so he just tossed Ellie into the bus and muttered something under his breath in Croatian.
I hugged Kaya goodbye.
I don't feel ready to leave this family. There's something so comforting about sharing a room with Kaya. Listening to her talk about school, friends, crushes and showing me all the youtube videos about ridiculous puns she's discovered. Binge watching Stranger Things together on my bed. On the Spongebob Squarepants sheets. There's something comforting about taking Choksa (whom I've started to fondly call "Puppula") out for long walks into downtown and along the Sava River. About coming home from the brisk walks to an apartment that smells like heaven decided to move into the oven. There's something comforting about kids who argue and mothers who intervene. It's real. It's family.
I feel like, for just a short week and a half, I was lucky enough to play the part of big sister.
But now...
Now it begins.
Now begins seven months of hopscotching around the world. Seven months wherein the average time I'll spend in each place will be five days.
Five days. Will I have the energy? I feel so OLD asking questions like that, but I do really wonder... I feel like moving every five days could probably obliterate me. It requires an ungodly amount of buses, trains and planes and planning in general. I'll be meeting new people all the time. Learning how to fit into so many different lives and ways of life.
How can I do this and not lose my mind?
Aimee's guide to maintaining a modicum of sanity while whirlwinding your way around the world.
Written by me, for me.
#1 - Think about the things that bring you peace. Think about the activities that ground you. A good cup of coffee in the morning? A quiet afternoon stroll through downtown? A glass of wine in the evening? A bath? With bubbles?
DO THESE THINGS. REGULARLY. Let go of the feeling, "I have to spend all of my time being busy and productive and learning about this new place!"
Because truth be told, new places are very stimulating. And an excess of stimulation leaves one drained and a little numb. And one can't learn anything when one is drained and numb. One enters into zombie-land. So by giving yourself the space and the permission to take a bath (with bubbles) while listening to your favorite podcast, you are going to help yourself be a more engaged, less zombie-esque traveler in the long run.
#2 - Just don't be bothered when plans go awry. This is by far the most challenging precept for me to swallow. But the truth is, if you're a low-budget vagabond, you're probably using couchsurfing and workaway instead of hostels and hotels. And when you couchsurf and workaway, you are booking with people. Who have lives. And all manner of things happen to their lives, outside of their control and certainly outside of yours.
And you need to be okay that things happen.
You need to say, "Hrmmm.... so, my host in Banja Luka had to cancel part of my stay because his life went a little haywire. That's a bit of a bummer, 'cos I was looking forward to staying with him. But... what are my options? What else can I do with this time? Time is my biggest resource, and now I have more of it. Super."
If you panic (like I do. A lot of the time), you're blind to the options life has laid out for you. 'Cos you're too focused on what's not working. And that doesn't really help you find what can work.
So. Don't do that. Just don't be bothered. Something else will happen. And it will probably be fantastic, as long as you didn't force it.
When my plans in Banja Luka changed, I simply got to stay in Zagreb three more days with a wonderful family. And eat delicious things.
Exhibit a)
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My life is better because I stayed in Zagreb an extra three days. Significantly better.
#3 - Don't force things. It's exhausting. Pay attention. Be patient. Allow life to unfold and then make good choices once life unfolds and you know what you're working with.
#4 - Stay with families every now and then. There's something refreshing about staying with people who feel that comfortable around each other. I've learned that I love listening to kids get into arguments and parents get exasperated. I also love watching everyone make up later. The hugs, the "I love yous," the peaceful, reassuring feeling that no matter what happens, you have that person's love. I love this because it shows that people aren't walking on eggshells. They're being real.
Every now and then, stay with families to reconnect with what it feels like to not walk on eggshells.
#5 - If you spend more time worrying about money than you do enjoying the money you spend, your life is upside down and backwards. Spend money, but don't spend stupid money. Avoid tourist traps, but don't feel guilty when you haven't found a good couchsurfing host and you have to pay for a hostel. Congratulate yourself that a) you have the money to pay for a hostel, and b) you're prioritizing your safety and well-being over saving a few bucks.
#6 - Stay in touch with friends and family back home. Even though moving every five days through countries with sketchy wifi and coping with a colossal time difference will lead to all sorts of frustration, it will be worth it to chat with your nieces every now and then. To check in with your parents. To discuss your best friend's newest explorations into being a total badass.
And if Skyping enters the land of "forced," write emails. Don't just tell yourself, "meh... if they want to know how I'm doing, they can read my blog."
Relationships cannot live on blogs alone.
#7 - Pay attention to your health, but don't give a fuck about your weight. Unless you have to buy new clothes every two months because all your buttons are bursting off of your pants and injuring innocent bystanders, don't be bothered.
If you're traveling this much, your diet cannot be consistent. Your exercise routine cannot be consistent. Hence, your weight will not be consistent.
So drink lots of water. Don't buy junk food. Avoid the temptation to drink alcohol every day. Go on long walks. Practice yoga when you can.
And be okay.
#8 - Read books. Listen to educational podcasts. Work on paintings. Write plays, not just your damn travel blog. Just like people in romantic relationships need hobbies that have nothing to do with each other, the longterm traveler needs hobbies that have nothing to do with being on the road.
#9 - Sometimes things will suck. Really, really suck. You'll be lonely. You'll wonder, "What the hell am I doing couchsurfing with total strangers in Kosovo when I could be cuddling my boyfriend in Colorado?" Sometimes, you'll feel lost. You'll feel like you've somehow misplaced your sense of direction, your sense of purpose. You'll feel useless, like a total failure.
In those moments, just remember to accept your feelings. And remember that you can't find yourself unless you get good and lost. Those are the moments wherein you have the opportunity to discover who you are.
#10 - Always respect your edge. Always push yourself hard enough to be challenged, but acknowledge when life becomes too much and you need to retreat to a safe place with bubble baths. And then congratulate yourself for choosing to honor yourself instead of choosing to break yourself for Gertrude knows what.
#11 - Be available. Make eye-contact with strangers on the street. Ask for your waitress' name. Don't be afraid to be vulnerable and have intimate conversations with hosts. Don't think, "I'll never see them again, so what's the point?"
The point is that your life is about connection.
So. Connect.
I'm finishing this post from the Cookie Cafe. It took me a grand total of two days to become addicted to this cheerful little cafe with delicious baked goods, tasteful music, and the absolutely delightful barista who looks happy to see me.
If I lived in Banja Luka... I think I would spend half of my time just sitting in this cafe.
But I do not live in Banja Luka. In fact, I have to leave for the bus station in less than half an hour, so I'm going to wrap this post up quickly.
Banja Luka is a crazy place. Mosques and Serbian Orthodox churches speckle the city. Beautiful buildings, green parks, bustling markets and dilapidated, abandoned structures like this:
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| this clock is a monument for the 6.4 earthquake that hit Banja Luka and the surrounding areas in October of 1969. It killed twenty, injured 150, left 65,000 people without homes. |
Igor is probably one of the most communicative couchsurfing hosts I've ever stayed with, and I loved being in his little apartment on the outskirts of Banja Luka. Which wasn't a surprise -- after reading his profile and browsing through his plentiful positive references, I knew staying with this fellow would be a great experience.
And it was.
In fact, I would stay with Igor simply for his brilliant signs.
The only regret I have is that I didn't get to spend more time with the guy. We stayed up late on my last night, chatting about our dreams and the obstacles we're working through, drinking rakia and sharing previous couchsurfing stories.
If the next seven months could be like THIS, I would certainly have the energy to make it through. But I can't expect them to be like this. I can't expect every host to be a Matea or an Igor. I need to be grateful for hosts like these, cherish moments wherein I feel so connected and heard by another person, but not expect them to be every day occurrences.
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