The first day approaches
One month. Bloody hell.
Sean has told me how well-prepared we are. I have my gear; I might snag another pair of convertible trousers, but if I don’t, no biggie. I’ve been reading and scoping boards and books, gleening more destination info. People email with tips on where to go and what to see. Since we’ve only scheduled a few days in each place, I want to have some good grounding on each city before I get there, so I don’t waste too much time just craning my neck trying to figure out where the hell to go.
If I left tomorrow, I’d be fine. I’m still glad that I have another month, mind you, but if I were leaving tomorrow, I’d be okay. I could touch down, and get going.
This could be calm before storm time, too. But it’s probably not. There’s just reading and posting to do, talking with people and swapping tips and email addresses, making those “hey we’re there at the same time let’s grab a pint” contacts. The fun stuff.
When I turned on Zula to write about my last month Stateside, I thought I might have more to say. I don’t, really. The trip is almost here. These last 30 days will fly and crawl. I’ll get nervous about leaving, and I’ll hardly think about going. People will ask about what I’m doing and where I’m going, and I’ll tell them, and hopefully with enough variety each time that I don’t get tired of the telling (though each person may swiftly tire of the hearing!). There may still be whole hours, perhaps a whole day, where I do not even think about this trip. I prefer to ponder and dream about it in snippets, here and there and now and again. I’m not interested in anticipation; I’m interested in living the most out of each day both here in the States, and then here in Europe. Anticipation can make life sweeter, but it can also get in the way of living.
But the trip is coming. It’s only a month away. I’ll be ready, but for now there are other things to do, and I’m going to get on with doing them.