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Dec. 26th, 2003 08:52 pmHell, i've finally transformed into my traveling self. That usually happens on the third month, just like now. No more little madnesses, bananas and other fruits are strictly confined to my stomach, the thirst for the extreme is replaced with dreams of peaceful life and unnecessary commodities (such as hot water, own kitchen or people speaking your language) - mostly because that would be a novelty and break the routine of climbing volcanoes, chasing monkeys in the jungle and stalking colonial girls in cute little towns (or the other way around, adjectives are used here for decoration only).
The sharp change of surroundings in the beginning of every trip makes me a bit romantic (i used to be hopelessly extraterrestrial some years ago; i had more or less well preserved memories of "some other place", which contained visual images of landscapes and people found only in Celtic legends - and the lot of fantasy books based on them, including those by JRR Tolkien - and spent a lot of time and effort trying to get back there [ages 4 - 12] and than even more of it crying [4 - 10] and crashing things [7 - 14] because it just never worked out), but after a while i get used to the sad fact that after this turn of the dull, dusty road there won't be my Aballon (the name was chosen randomly, just to stick a tag onto those otherworldly memories) - all there will be is another kilometer of the dull, dusty road; and that the most breathtaking mountain landscape automatically becomes, once you come close (whether driven by your dream or the bus driver), a tangle of slippery rocks, cold nights and constant hunger (or lack of appetite - that means you've got AMS or something else equally nasty). So my perception of beauty isn't that good now - it'll take some extraordinary stuff to penetrate the fog (i feel like a tree in a cloud forest sometimes). Nevertheless, there's still enough extraordinary stuff around, let's go, go, go...
The sharp change of surroundings in the beginning of every trip makes me a bit romantic (i used to be hopelessly extraterrestrial some years ago; i had more or less well preserved memories of "some other place", which contained visual images of landscapes and people found only in Celtic legends - and the lot of fantasy books based on them, including those by JRR Tolkien - and spent a lot of time and effort trying to get back there [ages 4 - 12] and than even more of it crying [4 - 10] and crashing things [7 - 14] because it just never worked out), but after a while i get used to the sad fact that after this turn of the dull, dusty road there won't be my Aballon (the name was chosen randomly, just to stick a tag onto those otherworldly memories) - all there will be is another kilometer of the dull, dusty road; and that the most breathtaking mountain landscape automatically becomes, once you come close (whether driven by your dream or the bus driver), a tangle of slippery rocks, cold nights and constant hunger (or lack of appetite - that means you've got AMS or something else equally nasty). So my perception of beauty isn't that good now - it'll take some extraordinary stuff to penetrate the fog (i feel like a tree in a cloud forest sometimes). Nevertheless, there's still enough extraordinary stuff around, let's go, go, go...
