Born to be a Nomad

Today again all of my possessions, including two bouldering mats and four summer tyres, have to fit in my car. It’s a very small car. That’s the third time this year that I’m moving everything.

My flatmate left some two hours ago aeady for the first day of ski touring this winter. Newly covered in snow, Chamonix looks amazing. I wish I could stay.

Yesterday was my last day in the office. For six months I worked for EpicTV. I learned, I grew, I worked hard, I had shouting rows with my colleagues and I drank cheap champagne with them on a Friday afternoon for no particular reason. I wish I could stay.

Yet this morning I woke up with the sense of excitement similar to what a child feels a day before Christmas. From tomorrow on, I am on the move again. Poland, UK, Bulgaria and Switzerland are my six months’ itinerary. Nothing’s certain, nothing’s set. 

I wish I could stay but all I want to do is go.

Six years ago London sucked me in. What was meant to be two years at university, somehow became five years of city life. It burned me out. So I moved to Sheffield and then I moved to Chamonix. However glorious the place I’m in may be, the 9-5 routine kills the flavour in everything.

I was asked last week what I am running away from. I was told yesterday I’m chasing something that I can’t have. Well, you’re wrong.

As long as I’m chasing, I’ve got everything.

Try moving a little. It will make you appreciate where you are. And then move again. Appreciate something else. See move, live more, love more. If you were born to be a nomad, just go.

A photo posted by Zofia A. Reych (@upthatrock) on

 

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