I’m going to Egypt on Friday.
On my own.
It was one of those last minute decisions where the impending doom of being a student again and later, the possibility of giving my life back over to some soulless corporation- freaked me out.
So I booked a trip…spending more money than I have to my name, and to a country that is less than desirable (so I hear) to travel as a solo, female, backpacker.
The moment I clicked “purchase ticket,” Michael got upset with me.
Beyond (understandably) wanting me to stay with him through my final weeks before moving to Spain, he told me, amongst other things, that I am being frivolous.
What disturbed me the most though, is when he said to me, “sometimes I feel like you just go places and do things to be able to say you have done them.”
My blood was boiling- and then I actually thought about it, and there is a slight possibility that I was so angry because I fear that it’s true.
I’m not intending to get all philosophical here- although certain questions come to mind- such as “why do we do the things we do?” and “is our happiness solely dependent on others’ admiration or approval?” but these are questions for another post- at another time- or a discussion with good friends over good wine. Now is not the time.
I will however say that I have a list- a long list of things to do and places to go before I kick it. And as anyone with a good list would understand, the Pyramids of Giza are right at the top. And a little lower; diving in the Red Sea.
My list goes through phases…sometimes I am ticking things off left and right and at other times, there’s a lull. I pulled my list out the other day and noticed an extended tickless interval-this bothered me- so I booked Egypt.
Yes, I am going to Egypt because I need to go there to be able to “say” I have done it. But the difference between Michael’s accusation and the reality of the situation is that I am not going to say I have gone to appease anyone else- I am going so that I know I have done it- So I can cross it off my list with the knowledge that it’s one more thing I have wanted, tried, and achieved- in my lifetime.
Can I really be blamed for that? I didn’t think so.
Another reason for this spur-of-the-moment, nonsensical trip- is testing myself- to see if I can still “do it.”
Despite my failure to admit or recognize it, I am getting older (no, I’m not menopausal- but I am no longer an 18 year old who can stay in dirty hostels befriending skydiving instructors, sharing lockers with bartenders) - and with this ageing process, comes complacency.
I’ve also been in a great relationship for over two years- with a wonderful person who takes care of me- takes care of things….which leaves less for me to take care of on my own- and after years of being the audacious, self-sufficient, adventurous person I was- sometimes I fear that I’ve become only a shadow of that person. Therefore, I go and do things like this- run around Egypt- sweaty and nervous- by myself. When, in fact, I could be comfortably sitting in the arms of my boyfriend in a beautiful coastal town of England, absolutely content.
Human nature is a funny thing. My nature is somehow worse than average.
Even so, two days from now I’LL BE RIDING A CAMEL NEXT TO ONE OF THE SEVEN WONDERS OF THE WORLD and I can’t freakin’ wait!!!