Travel nostalgia often leaves me lost. It’s probably the most bittersweet feeling in my existence. I feel directionless, yet content with such an ambiguous longing. The paradox of ‘I wouldn’t trade this experience for the world’ and ‘I gravely wish I could be there right now’ is often overwhelming.
Since landing in Sri Lanka, I find myself reminiscing, and often missing, a time that has come and gone. It’s the little things that take me back… the tattered plastic bags with neatly packed toiletries, the Nescafé that is often served with breakfast, and the many Airtel signs on buildings and roadside stands. Sure, Sri Lanka is nothing like Tunisia or Mali, Mauritania or South Africa, yet I find myself in those places at every turn.
I was twenty-six then, and I’m thirty-two now. And thirty-two is a funny age. You’re old, but not really. And you’re still young, but not really. And somehow, here I am.
When I look in the mirror, the only thing I can think of is where did the time go? It passed in the blink of an eye. It’s just a mish-mash of experiences squeezed into a mental photo album, tied to my heartstrings. Most of it is lost in memory.
Life is fleeting. We all know this, of course, but I’m not convinced that we really know this. None of us seem to truly believe it. Why is that, I wonder? For some reason, we all expect to be granted a long life, as if it’s owed to us, but nothing is. We think about our later years and imagine grandchildren pulling at our pant legs, but the reality is that many of us won’t live long enough to see that. Our number can be called at any time, without any warning, and often it happens sooner, rather than later. Here today, gone tomorrow.
While walking towards the river, an older gentleman came up to me, and after a few questions, proceeded to tell me my future – or at least his version of it – then demanded $50 dollars, but settled for 100 rupees (about 70 cents), and quickly stormed off. In retrospect, I should have shooed him away, but it happened so quickly, and I was lost in thought.
Later that night, I fell asleep to the sound of his voice, his words playing out in my dreams. We all have a story – I just hope that I’m writing mine well.
