Split, Croatia
It seems we’ve reached that awkward point in the relationship. You know, that stage where you’ve talked about all the normal stuff – gone through the the story of you and shared your hopes and fears. And then the awkward silence commences. What now? I start to get nervous, feel beads of sweat forming on my forehead; in my pits; and grasp desperately for something to say…
So how about this weather?
Yeah, I’m feeling a little like that right now. I’m one week into Remote Year, and I’m struggling with how to write about it. It’s been one week that feels like an eternity; like the blink of an eye. It flew by, but looking back, it’s hard to believe it has only been one week. It’s both. Which seems to be a theme, so I’ll go with that. So many new experiences, new people, new places, conversations, opportunity, fun, adventure… all of it. Stuffed into a single week like fitting a watermelon through a straw. And 51 more weeks of this to come.
I can’t say it’s exceeding expectations because I feel like I successfully entered this year without expectations. However I can say it’s everything you probably imagine – imagine joining 50 friends for an adventure around the world. Imagine starting in a beautiful European sea-side city. Imagine an opportunity to connect with local experiences not available to tourists. Imagine a calendar full of fun events, and needing to say no to things that look awesome because they don’t look fucking awesome. Imagine taking a break from the workday to walk across the street and dive into the crystal clear waters of the Adriatic Sea. Imagine wandering through a centuries-old castle which has been turned into a town, sitting in the open square under the oldest catholic cathedral in the world and listening to live music under the stars. Imagine visiting a national park with more waterfalls than you’ve seen in your entire life. Imagine sharing all these experiences with 50 good friends who appreciate it as much as you. Imagine the feeling of knowing this will continue for the next year.
A mind that is stretched by a new experience can never go back to its old dimensions.
– Oliver Wendell Holmes
In the first week of Remote Year, I have stopped in my tracks more times than I can count, looked around and reminded myself this is my life now. I say it out loud, and my friends laugh because they’re thinking the same thing. And it’s just getting started. Which is both wonderful and honestly, a little scary. Wonderful because… well, ok, no need to explain that. But scary for a few reasons. Can this really go on for a year? Can I really keep up this pace? And, if I’m really honest and vulnerable, if this continues for a year, how will I ever integrate back into the “real world”? With my “real world” friends and family?
Before leaving Colorado I met with a group of RY alumni (called Citizens). They talked about the instant connection with all RY Citizens, even those from different cohorts, and the shared experience (across different groups) that cannot be explained or understood, but must be experienced. It isn’t just a trip, or an adventure or a year. It is a way of life; one very few have the ability or opportunity to pursue. And looking back, what stands out for me is the sadness in their voices as they explained this feeling. Almost like they were searching for this greater, deeper connection in the world, but couldn’t find it with anyone but RY friends. Readjustment is challenging.
Going deeper, it is not the places or the people or the things that can’t be shared or understood. Think to the travels in your life. It is the moments that cannot be described. That moment you first dive into the crystal clear waters of the Adriatic Sea. The moment you step onto your balcony, look out over the ocean view and realize this is home for the next month. That moment you pull over to the side of the winding mountain road and catch the sun just right as it dips toward the water, silhouettes the islands and highlights the fall colors. The moment you realize the blurry white blob ahead in the dim headlights, is a large white bull walking casually up the middle of the road like a bouncer coming to send you on your way. The moment you explore a national park in another country and realize your home country doesn’t have a monopoly on breathtaking landscapes and scenery. The moments of sharing a drink with new friends in a town that takes your breath away. The moment when someone posts a picture of a store shelf full of peanut butter on slack, and no explanation is necessary. The moments you just break out into a big smile, or a belly laugh for no reason; just because you’re here; you’re alive; you’re living a life less ordinary.
These moments are why I travel; why I explore; why I say fuck it, step out of my comfort zone, and go.
We do not remember days, we remember moments.
– Ceaser Pavese
First world problems, I realize. How will I ever explain my RY-life to those back home, they’ll never understand me?!? But real, none-the-less. So that brings me around to the challenge of this blog. How do I, with my limited literary and photography skills, take you along on this adventure? So that you can understand, even just a little, and experience it along with me? So I don’t sound like this when I return.
I don’t have a good answer for that, yet. So I’m going to start by trying something out. Part of the experience is in my head, so I’ll continue to share posts like this, where you get a glimpse inside my head. And I’ll pair those posts with picture-heavy posts that are more focused on where I’ve been, what I’ve done and perhaps some brief stories about the experience. I’ll give this a try and see how it works – both for me, and for you (comments are welcome).
Are you ready? Ok, let’s go…
You’ve hit the nail on the head with this post, for me at least, your fellow remote!
the new normal summed up beautifully <3