At a time when I am supposed to be writing my final paper for this class, I get a fleeting sense of inspiration. It escapes me when I need it for my paper, yet I had the sudden urge to begin writing my fifth blog, my final blog.
As the time to leave New Orleans approaches, I find that I am grateful. At the beginning of this trip I honestly expected to not want to leave when the time came, but it turns out I was over optimistic. Don’t get it twisted, I had a great time overall, but I definitely have had my fill of the city.
And that’s okay. I think when traveling there is a pressure to feel something, to be changed, and, sometimes, that does happen. But I don’t think it needs to be a requirement. I think I’ve documented it rather well in these blogs; I’ve had fun experiences, of course, and maybe some revelations, but I don’t think I’m much different from when I first got off the plane. I’ve felt rather pessimistic throughout most of this trip, but I’ve made the most of it. I think I’ve hit a wall when it comes to writing, which you may be able to tell, but I’m not upset about it. I’ve written so much during this trip, and, honestly, I enjoyed it more than I thought.
Originally, I was worried about these blogs and how many I’d have to write. I felt like the deadlines kept coming and I had no idea how I would keep up; it turns out, I have a lot to say. I own a journal, but I’m awful at keeping up with it. By the end of the day I’m too tired to even hold a pen, so there are large gaps in the dates that I write. These blogs forced me to write my thoughts and feelings, and I’m grateful for it. I can’t speak for everyone, but I know for me these blogs have been an opportunity to share my stream of consciousness, and I honestly really enjoyed it. I think being earnest and sincere in these blogs from the beginning has taken much of the pressure off; it’s truly like reading from my diary and remembering what I did on what day.
If I had to write in my journal, and I probably should, it’d probably say something like this:
I’ve been asked a few times now what was your favorite part of the trip? And, to be honest, I have no idea. The memories have kind of blurred together in a way that I can’t pick out which one was my favorite, but perhaps the one that stands out to me the most is getting caught in a downpour trying to leave Algiers.
Meg and I laugh at our predicament
My friends and I took the ferry to Algiers in the late afternoon. It was sunny with a nice breeze from the river; no clouds, no rain, no weather warning. We sat in a sweet English pub playing darts and laughing, when I got a severe weather warning on my phone. We didn’t know if we should leave or wait it out, but we knew if we waited it out we’d be stuck in the pub for hours. We decided to leave and were met with strong winds and cloudy skies, we thought it was hilarious. We weren’t actually sure if the ferry was still coming, but we were hopeful; it did not come. There was a mix of opinions of what to do, eventually we decided on a Lyft. And then we left. And this story sounded a lot more fun in my head.
That was it, we made it home. But in the moment it was the funniest thing ever. We were soaked from the rain and feeling icky, but it’s a great memory. I think above everything, that’s my favorite memory. Except maybe when we took a swamp cruise and I held a baby alligator, that might actually be my favorite (sorry friends).
And that’s it. This one’s a little shorter, maybe that’s something to be happy about, I think I’ve said all I can say. This doesn’t have much to do, anything to do, really, with books and bookpacking, but I think I’ve done enough of that. I’ve read the books, I’ve reflected on them, and now I’m just reflecting on my time.
All of this to say:
It’s okay to not have a life changing experience, it's okay if not every experience is defining, and it's okay to not have any epiphanies. It's just a city.
A great one, at that, but just a city. It may not be the city you find yourself in. Don’t despair.
“Or just brood for awhile.
Don’t despair.”