Monday, November 21, 2011

Still Looking


My journal entries got longer and more verbose as the days went by. It was to be expected I suppose, as I spent most of my days alone. It left me more time to think and hence write those thoughts down. After travelling with so many people, through so many places, it was kind of nice to be left to my own devices. But in truth, it kind of scared me too. With all those kilometers under my belt, I felt like I should have some kind of hold on the world by now. Instead, I still wondered what I wanted to be when I grew up. More importantly, I wondered what I would do with myself when I returned back home to Canada. The answer seemed no closer than when I had left home over nine months before.

I returned to the best way to avoid thinking about the present moment – through travel. I left Swakopmund behind and took in Windhoek and its sights. I visited the Alte Feste and learned a little more about Namibian history. A Natural History museum provided information about some of the local animals I would see if I were to explore the game parks in the area. Interesting, but I had no time left for game parks.All I had left was the opportunity to read about cheetahs, rhinos and some of the aboriginal cultures that existed in the area. My time was ticking now though and it was more about quantity over quality.

From Windhoek, I boarded a train and blissfully watched the miles pass me by from the safety of its rocking compartment. It was the first time in my African excursion that I had the luxury of train travel, but the eleven hour journey left me a little less than impressed. Thankfully, it was an overnight trip, so at least a few of the hours slipped by unencumbered. Of course it also amounted to more time to ponder my fate, so when I arrived in Keetmanshoop my journal had a few more pages of notes added to it.

At this rate though, there would not be many more pages left to write. I had made it official. With a bittersweet heart, I changed my plane ticket for the last time. In a little over two weeks, I would fly out of Cape Town for Germany, then home. All that was left to do now was to get to Cape Town. Keetmanshoop deserved a cursory exploration, but as I debated what this arid town held to offer, I knew my heart was no longer in it. It was time to go home. 

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