It’s a boring Sunday night for me here in Madrid. It was only a couple of nights ago that I experienced my first encounter with being robbed, except I don’t really remember it at all. What I do remember is a precious belonging being there one minute, and being gone the next. My normal high-alert self let my guard down for one second, thinking I could trust the new city I made my home, only to find out that only fools allow themselves to be that vulnerable anywhere that isn’t as exceptionally honest and safe as my hometown. Being the loud, obviously foreign English-speaker didn’t help, either. Regardless, I’ve punished myself by not allowing myself to do anything for a day or two.
Days pass by and I eventually forgive myself for my slip-up, repairing what has been lost. Yet, a part of me can’t help but wonder why I couldn’t have made some plan to travel somewhere this weekend instead of staying in the city that I call home but don’t truly enjoy exploring? This weekend was one of many long weekends to be found in Madrid, though the only we will have until about mid March. Maybe it was lack of funds, lack of ambition, or even lack of funds/ability on my friends’ parts, but I didn’t allow myself to seriously consider any kind of travel plans for this weekend.
It feels like it’s been an extremely long time since I’ve traveled, despite it having been a mere 4 weeks since I’ve been on a plane. Still, for the travel-addicted, 4 weeks is a long time. It’s been even longer since I’ve been to a new place, experienced new things, had to rely on instincts, and be taken away to somewhere different. I feel myself aching for travel – for a new destination, for that next trip, and for that weekend that flies by as I find myself wishing I had more time to splurge on my explorations.
January has been a month of being back home in Canada followed up with about 3-4 weeks of being back in Madrid, settling into a new apartment, and budgeting. What February holds in store, I don’t know. What slightly hurts me is that my next planned trip is not until March. Indeed, March will be quite possibly my best travel month, with about 2 weeks’ worth of traveling planned, but it seems so far away. I know that with the anticipation and excitement that comes with such a massively-awesome month in store, February may either fly by or feel like a major drag. I sometimes think I may have problems being rooted to any one place for too long, as I’ve always enjoyed being on-the-go despite also wishing I could be the type of person who enjoys finding ground in one single place. It could be that I’m an adrenaline-junkie, too adventurous for my own good, or simply bored with Madrid, but I know that I yearn for the next few weeks to be as pain-free as possible. Is there a bonus trip in store soon? Will I explore something new in Madrid? I don’t know yet, but I know I need to figure something out, because my restless-leg syndrome seems to be extending to the rest of my body.
Sorry Madrid, it’s not you, it’s me. But it’s also you.