My fingertips indulge on this dirty Mac keyboard at a Quarter Century of Truth

23 12 2010

This post is dedicated to Catherine Anne

At the current moment I’m sitting in my boxers on the third floor of a friend’s apartment, in Phnom Penh, Cambodia.  I have been five months without a permanent residence, spending my first holiday season away from home, kindly been given a free place to stay for the next two weeks, and the much-needed time to slow down and reflect.    Outside my window, I can hear the sounds of street vendors cleaning up for the night through my broken 14-cent headphones retrieved from Marrakech.  I scratch the scar on my head still present 3 months later after getting mugged in Madrid, while slowly sifting through old photographs, each worth 1,000 words and story of its own.

The beauty of traveling solo is that it forces you to be truthful, gives you time to think and it helps in understanding where and who you are.  I’m taking full advantage of these benefits, as I contemplate the last year of my life, turning 25 years old in 7 days, and not having a clue of what I will do next.

What I do know, and what it is clear to me, is that every scratch, bruise, memory, all the possessions that I carry in my bags, strangers turned friend, every failure and success, have all been earned, and are rightfully mine, it has been without hesitation, the best year of my life.

My home can be found in these three bags

Somewhere between watching Nadal tear it up in three straight sets at Wimbledon, standing on the tallest building in the world in Dubai, Ramadan in Morocco, organizing a fashion show alongside an international designer, getting back to my roots in Battambang, shooting an AK-47, running with the bulls, teaching at a Khmer university, and diving the crystal clear waters of the Red Sea . . . I realized something, I didn’t climb any mountains.  I floated between dreams and reality, accomplished some of my biggest life long goals, I crushed the mountains, and couldn’t ask of anything more out of 2010.

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To think, not too long ago, I touched down for my first flight of this journey in Reykjavik, Iceland, not knowing where the world would lead me, to this warm December night, far away from any white Christmas, the city sleeps, and I ground my self into this beautiful imperfect truth, take comfort in this solitude, and give myself an early gift by embracing the past.  When I sit down at about this time next year, I hope that I feel as lucky as I do right now.

Thanks for letting me share

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