I was wrong. Last week, I declared with false confidence that I was settled and ready to stay in Shanghai for a few more years. Or maybe the better word would be ‘bracing myself’ or ‘girding my loins’ or ‘grudgingly acquiescing’ to staying put for a while and enjoying my job and my slow cooker and my bookshelf.
As soon as I had posted it, my brain went into panic mode, shouting quite urgently that it disagreed vehemently with my verdict.
I was most certainly not settled, it insisted as I went about my day. And that grown-up thing, with all the stability that ought to come with it? Not happening. I started day dreaming on kayak.com. I started reading about Arabic courses in Damascus. I stayed in bed all morning yesterday, mournfully looking over a decade’s worth of digital photos, jealous of my various previous incarnations– look at that smug Younger-Me, off galavanting in Africa (or Europe or the Mid East or where ever)! Doesn’t she know that some of us have jobs and responsibilities? Doesn’t she know that it’s not that easy to just pick up and leave?
Jealous of myself! Indeed, how embarrassing!
I also had more conversations with friends over the past few days after writing that post which led my mind and emotions astray- one friend gave me a very persuasive pep talk over lunch as to why I ought to be true to myself and my dreams and talents and not a slave to work or money (go to Italy! be a writer!); the other was in a funk about Shanghai and was very persuasive in reminding me why this city does my head in (crowds, heavy metal rice, pollution, no greenery– this place is bad for you, MaryAnne!).
Have I ever mentioned how easily swayed I am by others’ arguments and others’ whims? I think it’s one of the reasons why I’ve ended up doing so many things in my life so far- I’m more than happy to tag along when someone gets a brilliant idea. I’ve tagged along to some rather amazing places and found myself in, well, interesting predicaments as a result. It’s been interesting, to say the least.
Unfortunately, some of those brilliant ideas (so convincing!) work against my own decisions so I’m left with a rather noisy battle in my head and a good deal of indecision.
This is what my brain’s non-grown up impulsive side is shouting about:
And finally, with an achy breaky heart:
So I’ll be going there in July, I’ve decided. Back to Vancouver Island, back to Canada. I’m heading home for a month as soon as classes and exams finish. It’s camping and music festival season so I can be nomadic and enveloped in the metaphorical bosom of my family. Speaking of nomadic, I found this great survival tomahawk on the internet and cannot wait to try out its puissance in the woods near home. After I get my fix of waves and calm and greenery and family and quiet solo writing time, Doug and I will run off to Sri Lanka for another month of impulsive wandering.
With this in mind, I can just about handle Shanghai. Just about. I’m still jealous of my other selves who didn’t have to make do with mops and mannequins and chalkboard art. Lucky selves, they are. Unappreciative of what they’ve had!
I’m still struggling with this whole stability/grown-up thing. If anyone has any helpful tips on how to overcome deeply ingrained compulsive travel habits, please let me know.
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