So after my 23 hour bus ride that was meant to take 16 I´ve finally made it to Paracas (on the Pacific coast) which is a bit off the beaten road for me as I had intended to stop off in Pisco. The travel agent was a liar. It`ll be easy getting to Pisco, eh. Just book a bus from Nasca. No buses go to Pisco, idiot. Paracas is better that Pisco anyway. I've been told that it’s the Galapagos islands for the poorman. Ha. Fits me perfectly. There are a few good nature tours here out to the islands and sand dunes. So I'm happy to set up camp here for a few days.
It has come apparent to me that no matter where I am in the world, no matter how far I stray or how far I fall from grace, god always finds me landing on my feet, perched on some five star hotel sun bed drinking cocktails sea side, soaking up the sun with nothing better to do than read a book and eat baked corn cornels. It seems I can't run (or bus) away from my life of excess or fortune. Or possibly it's because I´ve been stuck on a bus for so long everything appears to be cherry flavored, sunshine and lollypops. It’s true though. Last night I had no idea where I was going, if there would be any hostels or if I was gonna be dropped off in the middle of nowhere with kung fu sound effects my only weapon. (With enough conviction I'm pretty sure I could be somewhat convincing.) I found somewhere to stay in a nice hotel with a double bed and own bathroom. No waking up to my Israeli dorm mates having sex, no late night parties, no musty odour that isn’t mine and no coming to bed to find strangers sleeping in it. Just me and a remote (and about 20 flies. Note to self: buy fly spray). It cost 17 NZ dollars a night. Which is only 2 more than I was paying in Cusco. One short walk down the road and I've found a great resort and spa with free internet. Cocktails aren´t free but the views are. There I was sitting on this lovely white cushioned sunbed getting my dirty feet and hairy legs all over it thinking to myself… why fight it. I work hard to live my life the way I want to live it, and sacrifices for it too. I don’t see why I should settle for anything than the best that the universe has to offer me. My point being what’s the point of backpacking? I've done it. Did it by myself even… across South America. Loved and hated it. But why do I need to go to Canada and do it all over again? I've proven to myself that I'm capable, and now I just wanna go home and spend time with the ones I love. I don’t need to fly straight to Toronto from Lima! Canada’s going nowhere.
The moral of my story is after 60 days of carrying my home on my back I’ve realized there´s no place like home and I don’t even need a pair of ruby slippers. I've decided to come home, make more money so I can live the life I want in Canada, laugh at the good and bad times over photos with my friends and family and celebrate two mile stones with the people I hold so dear to my heart. I've got one more week here, then a marathon of flights to catch to get home. But hold on tight, my journey isn´t over yet xx
