Every once in a while I think about hitch-hiking in Slovenia. I think about those 5 minute drives down that one stretch of highway – with the two girls who first picked us up, the couple from Slovenia, the two men who were coming from work and couldn’t speak a whole lot of English, the man who was on his way to jog around the lake.

I imagine swimming in Lake Bohinj and how amazing it felt. Or the time we got tipsy drinking beers on the patio and I wore my raincoat in 30 degree weather to protect myself from the wasps. That was fun. That place is beautiful.

I feel like when you’re travelling everything moves at hyper speed and even when you think you’re taking it slow you barely have time to think about everything that’s happened. So much happened. I barely wrote about Slovenia and now I’m just beginning to digest it. How amazing it was. How much my feet hurt in Bovec. How good that first bite of pizza was. That first bite was heavenly. So was the first beer.

I thought I was soaking everything in, but I think a big part of that doesn’t come until later. I’m making friends with 3 months of memories right now. I’ve got a journal full of mismatched notes on various memories, detailed descriptions on how I was feeling and things I believe in, and a phone full of photos to go along with it all.

People always want to know the highlight reel and every time I open my mouth to start I can’t figure out where to begin. The thing people don’t often tell you is that travelling isn’t always characterized by a constant rush of high’s, but that more often than not it’s just about being somewhere entirely new. Or at least that’s what it was like for me.

I spent three months feeling like I was living in a constant state of wonder. Of feeling so full of contentment, of anticipation. Wide eyed and mesmerized.

I’m settling into a wonderful new apartment in a favourite neighbourhood of mine in Vancouver. I start working again tomorrow. I’m thankful. And it’s a strange combination of bitter and sweet how all of the sudden I’m back again and everything is new but also the same – but I guess I’m not totally the same. Or something like that.

I’ll admit that I’m a little afraid of getting comfortable. Of the fact that I don’t feel the pull to go out to dinner on my own when I’m here. Responsibility is a bit nerve racking too, especially when it comes in the form of a brand new job.

I wish I could find a way to explain the strangeness I feel being caught between the routine I’m entering and the one I’ve just left behind. I wish I could tell you a bit more about travelling. But for now, I’d boil it all down to a new season of digesting. Of trying to sift through everything I experienced since July, and deciding on the things I’ve learned – the pieces of myself I picked up along the way and the ones I definitely need to keep.

It’s a slow process, but the memories taste sweet.