Stalking a pigeon

"Kardelen pauses, and enquires, "Do you know what is the most difficult thing in the world?"

Rustem Bey scratches the side of his nose and replies,

"Stalking a pigeon."

Kardelen looks at him as if he's gone mad, and the aga explains,

"They always see you, and they always fly off."

"I see," says Kardelen, curling her lip. "I suppose I wouldn't know about such...country matters."

She pauses for rhetorical effect (...)" Birds Without Wings, de Bernieres

This year's blog, it better last.

I'm not eaxactly sure how many of them I have created and then abandoned mid-sentence in the abyss of the web, as I inevitably got bored or ran out of things to say. But this one, oh, it's a serious cause. Blog with a purpose. A travel blog. Of sorts. I travel quite frequently, or so some seem to accuse me of. For me, of course, it's way to rarely. When I'm on the road, I usually torment my love-me-long-time friends with lengthy group e-mails filled with descriptions of places only I find captivating, or situations that noone but me has considered amusing. From now on, I'm gonna dump it all here.

Enter Israel. I'm going there in 2 weeks. Yay! Reasons for going:

Reason 1: I have some time to kill and no clue what the hell else I could do.

Reason 2: I really want to get some volunteering under my belt.

Reason 3: "Jerusalem, if I forget you, let my right hand forget what it's supposed to do" 

Reason 4: I honestly deserve to have some fun...and hang on, why do I expect to find joie de vivre in a religious land threatened by wars such as Israel? Intuition? Cellular memory? Cognitive-behavioural conditioning? Yep, that one. I've been before and fun was had.

What happened to the first half of the year anyway? Honestly, it's been some seriously crappy times. I fled Sydney at the end of February, just as the sticky heat was about to turn my brains into pudding. I gave my boss 3 days notice. I didn't have to worry about my flat thank god - I had been homeless for nearly two months by then. My love relationships dissolved, my career burned out, I was exhausted and unhappy - depressed even. Oh and did I mention the heat?

 

So I boarded the plane and crossed the (metaphorical) 7 seas to enscone myself in the safe coccoon of my parents' home in Poland. Right back into the womb. My parents have been fantastic. I've had no obligations, no money stresses, but abundance of time to sulk and feel sorry for my messed up-self. In consequence I wallowed in depression for as long as I could, until one day I woke up so bored with myself, that I got up and said ok let's get on with it.

Or something.

Ever since, I've been trying to love myself a little. It's like stalking a pigeon, as it keeps flying off when I get a bit closer; but, you know, I keep trying.