Veuve

Months ago I scribbled.. going on and on about how I desperately wanted to be back in Europe, right now, on the edge of it, in Istanbul, I am scared, honestly, of change.

Somehow, this place, takes me back to Melbourne, no its not the kebab. (or the souvlaki, or the shwarma)

I wish I could stay here just that little bit longer, and no its not just because of Orhan Pamuk's Istanbul.

Flying over Tehran, looking at Amman and Jerusalem peek into the flight map, the bearded man I kept seeing on the plane who looked JUST like Ahmadinejad (right down to his coat!). Flashes of a scene where I'd grab him and go "Dude! You look just like that other Dude!", that would've been SO much fun though I did feel a tinge inappropriate thinking all of that because hey, he probably thinks I look like.. a young Mao?

*note to self: buy that ticket to Jerusalem before it conveniently becomes 'too late'.



I miss my warm and cushy bed.

Though heading to Ikea could solve that

(yes, training it to Vienna for a bed might seem excessive, although.. sheets..)

I reconnected with so many in my life that have been constants, and I miss them.

As I missed everyone I left behind in Europe.

I remember how it felt my first weeks in Bohemia.

I remember my first break from Bohemia, how I needed it.

I love adventure, diving phi phi, kayaking through ha long.

Breaks from the comfortable, the familiar. Breaks.

I do not know if I want my entire life to be an adventure.