I hate packing up. Absolutely hate it. It’s one of the most stressful things in the world for me. Within the first 30 minutes I inevitably reach a point of panic, convinced there is no way I will ever be able to make it all fit and how the hell did I end up with this much stuff anyway? It eventually always subsides and I find a way to make it all fit, but god do I hate packing.
The thing is, I’ve been doing it a lot lately. There’s a certain skill in being able to pack up and move all of your stuff from one place to another with efficiency. You get pretty good at it being a college student. I think I’ve moved five times during college so far, and every time sees me melting down briefly into a little puddle of stress and exasperation. But it has become almost a ritual, like I’m just turning the page onto a new chapter.
And now I find myself staring at yet another empty room. I’ve lived here for a semester, but now that I’m packed you would never know, save for the 2 suitcases and backpack I have stacked in the corner. It’s weird to think that the semester is now over. In truth, I haven’t really thought about it much. Because even though classes are done and I’m leaving Strasbourg tomorrow, it doesn’t feel over. I dont feel like my semester in Europe is done yet. It's probably because I'm coming back to Strasbourg for a day in three weeks before I finally go home, so it's not really the final goodbye.
Tomorrow starts my three week travel bonanza. I'm not going home yet, instead I'll spend the next 23 days tracing an itinerary through five countries and winding my way through the cities of London, Dublin, Prague, Berlin, Florence, Rome and several other to-be-determined places in Italy. And I’m doing it all on my own.
I’m both equal parts nervous and excited, with hints of exhaustion mixed in. I’m meeting friends in the first three cities, but after that it’s gonna be a solo adventure. And that’s what makes me nervous. But also excited. I’ve traveled to places before on my own, without knowing anyone, but I’ve never gone traveling on my own, and there has always been some sort of plan waiting for me at my destination. This feels a little more daunting.
Looking around the empty room though, it does start to sink in a little. A lot of different thoughts swirl around my head. Fears about finally being a senior and no longer being able to ignore the real world. Fears about traveling on my own and being completely self-reliant. But I realize, it’s all really the same thing. It’s all just about being independent. What it comes down to is, I’m afraid of growing up. I’m not ready yet. Or at least, I don’t want to be. But regardless of if I'm ready or not, I’ve got a very expensive train ticket in my pocket for tomorrow morning and I’m not about to let it go to waste.
Stay tuned...
