by Lucy Vine
She is silent for a few seconds. ‘You’re not alone, Alice. You have almost eight billion people around you.’ I laugh, but she sounds earnest as she continues. ‘They are all outside your room, waiting to meet you. There is nowhere like being on the road for making new friends. If that’s what you want.’
We are silent, but it is not an intrusive silence. After a moment I add, ‘To be honest, Clara, I’m thinking about calling this whole thing off and heading back home.’
She sighs. ‘Oh Alice. I’m sorry you have argued with your brother. But you should not give up on your journey, not until you get to where you want to get.’
‘I was only going to be here another week or so anyway,’ I say hurriedly. ‘It felt like I was getting somewhere with all this travelling, but now it feels like I’ve gone backwards again.’ She doesn’t say anything for a minute, we just sit together on the phone. She is a very calming presence, even on the phone.
‘That’s how it works, I think,’ she says at last. ‘Everyone assumes there is an end point with life. I don’t mean death, which is of course an end point. But I mean that “settled” point. Where everything is solved. Like, you age, you accumulate things, you stick to the path set out for you by everyone else, and then you will be happy. People think that is the end point. The idea is that you travel through life until you get there, and then you stop, give yourself up, and are happy forever.’ She stops again, and I can hear her smiling down the phone. ‘But it’s not how it works. Rarely ever. Mostly, I think, we are all travelling around in circles. And it is often in different directions to other people. Sometimes it is backwards, sometimes it is forward, sometimes it is up, sometimes it’s down. But that is not so bad.’
I think about this. It’s a little confusing. We started talking about travelling around the world, and now we’re talking about travelling through life.
Something in it makes sense though.
I’ve spent a lot of time resisting traditional life goals, but also questioning and resenting the fact that I haven’t got there yet. It’s a weird type of brainwashing. Like, I don’t necessarily want that life, but I’m annoyed I don’t have it.
‘Anyway,’ I clear my throat, speaking in a rush. ‘I’m supposed to be heading on somewhere else after Thailand. I was going to do something spontaneous. I wanted to do something different and unexpected, but I cannot work out what. So maybe I should take that as a sign that it’s time to head home and get my life back on track.’
‘Maybe,’ she says simply. ‘What are your options if you keep going?’
I shrug. ‘I had a thousand ideas, really,’ I say. ‘I wanted to go to France to learn a new language, or go to Italy to naked paddleboard like Orlando Bloom. I wanted to go to Bali to meet a medicine man. I wanted to do everything but nothing. I don’t know.’ I pause and she doesn’t say anything so I continue. ‘I thought I would connect with myself more out here. I thought being alone here would be peaceful. I thought I wanted solitude to figure out who I am. Maybe discover religion or something. But everything here feels so intense. It is too hard.’ I break off suddenly, nothing left to say.
‘Maybe it is working if it feels hard,’ she says quietly. ‘Things have to hurt and itch and scab over before they can heal.’
‘That sounds like something Buddhist,’ I say a little flippantly. ‘My problem with Buddhism is that it preaches no self and I like being a self. I want to feel like I matter. Is it so bad to matter in this world?’
She laughs and her bracelets jingle down the line. ‘I am not religious – unless you count Sheathology,’ she laughs. ‘So I don’t have any answers for you. But—’ she pauses again and I hear her stand up, ‘right now, I have to go, because I am getting on a bus with some new friends today. We’re going to hike up a mountain and swim in a lake. Why don’t you go outside and do something like that?’
I sigh before answering. ‘To be honest with you, Clara, the only thing I really want right now is a cheesy Dolmio pasta bake and the eleventh series of RuPaul’s Drag Race on Netflix.’
She laughs. ‘Go outside,’ she says sternly. ‘RuPaul and pasta bake will still be there where you left them.’
She hangs up.
24
AWOL.COM/Alice Edwards’ Incredibly Unimaginative Travel Blog
24 June – 4.34 p.m.
Hello human beings,
Firstly, I’m BACK. Not dead. Thanks for the messages asking if I’m dead, but no, to confirm: not dead.
Secondly, I want to apologise for previously calling you all dream chasers. I’ve realised just how patronising and meaningless that was. I only did it because I thought it sounded clever and cool. I’m realising now how much of my life I’ve spent saying things just because I thought they sounded clever and cool. I was trying to present myself in some dumb pretentious way I thought people wanted – and, let’s face it, it’s bullshit.
And while we’re on the subject, what is this idea that we’re all chasing dreams, anyway? Most of my dreams involve running away from something. So if I’m chasing that dream, then I’m chasing myself being chased. Seems kinda stupid, no? For real though, I don’t like the idea that we’re ‘chasing’ something, because that implies that it is unattainable and will always be out of reach. But my dream is just to be happy, and I can be happy. I know I can.
Anyway, to that end, I’ve decided to stay on in Thailand a little bit longer. There’s too much to see and do. I want to be brave now – really, actually brave, not just #brave.
Yours,
Axx
7 Comments · 96 AWOLs · 89 Super Likes
COMMENTS:
Sarah Sommers
| YESSSSSSSS. PREACH GURL.
Hannah Edwards
| i am v glad u r happy
Karen Gill
| Very disappointing on the not-dead front. Mammy was all prepped to tell the Irish Sun all about it. She had her quotes typed up and everything.
Hollie Baker
| Yayyy! So happy you’re back on AWOL, it wasn’t as good without you!!!
Guru Shaman Quam AKA Gary Porter
| It’s all about the happiness, Alice. Good for you.
Clara Weber
| I’m still here, too! You coming up to north Thailand at any point? Message me.
Joe Downe
| Now THIS is the kind of blog you should be writing, Ali! I love this, and I love you!!!! Sorry about . . . y’know, what happened. Miss you.
‘No, pisssssss in,’ I say again, enunciating, but knowing it is meaningless. ‘Piss in the piscine.’
I’m trying to explain the moment back in Year 10 when our whole French GCSE class fell apart, hysterical for the whole hour’s lesson. Our poor teacher, Mr Mitchells, had to go get the head teacher in the end – he’d wholly lost control. All because self-proclaimed ‘class clown’ Aaron Sullivan had pointed out that the word for swimming pool – ‘piscine’ – sounded like ‘piss in’, which, he said, is what we’ve all done in the pool at some point.
Therefore, you piss in the piscine.
Fifteen years later, I’m starting to suspect the joke is not that funny. Or maybe you just need to understand some of the nuance of English slang? Which this group of French tourists I’ve just met definitely do not.
They continue to look at me blankly, but for some reason I keep going.
‘Piss? You know, like wee? Urine? Whizz? Pee? Spending a penny? Isn’t it funny how there are so many English words for having a wee? We’re clearly obsessed!’
They are showing no signs of life, but I’m still talking: ‘Tinkle? Going number one? Taking a leak? Or,’ – I stop to laugh – ‘as my super posh friend Eva says, “visiting the lavatory” . . . ’ I break off, suddenly really, urgently missing Eva.
We’ve barely spoken in the last couple of weeks. I’ve been avoiding her because I don’t want to tel
l her what happened with Mark. I didn’t want her to give me a pep talk and try to make me feel better about my shitty life. Not when everything is so great for her at the moment. But I feel a bit guilty suddenly, thinking about the messages she’s sent that I’ve hardly replied to, and the Skype calls I’ve ignored. We haven’t actually spoken on the phone or Skype since I was in LA. Which is unheard of for us.
Right. That’s decided. I will call or Skype her as soon as we get off this bus – the airport will have WiFi, surely.
I’m flying up to north Thailand today. I’ve been here longer than I thought – snorkelling, swimming and wandering around talking to people. I’ve realised I really like human contact. All this talk about needing to be alone to truly ‘find yourself’ is kind of nonsense. Or at least, it doesn’t really apply to me. I am a sociable, gregarious person – I get lonely! I’m allowed to say that, right? Because it feels a bit taboo sometimes. But shock-horror; humans like being around other humans at times. It’s what Clara was saying on the phone – there are eight billion people out there, surely some of them are going through the same things as me. Surely some of them are looking for connections. Anyway, I feel stronger. I’ve spent time on my own and I’ve spent time with other people. Both have been good, both have been necessary.
And sure, yes, I miss Mark and Joe. I am worried about how I left things with my brother. I am scared we won’t be able to work it out and I’ll have lost yet another important person in my life. I am frightened. But I am also an excellent compartmentaliser. I have put our fight into a box and I am mostly ignoring it right now. Because what else can I do.
Plus, adventures do actually come easier when your dumb big brother isn’t micro-managing your experience over your shoulder.
So now I’m adding another week to my Thai adventure so I can go up north to meet my Ayahuasca-Garfield buddy, Clara. She was so wise and soothing on the phone, I’m hoping she can help me figure out what I’m doing next. I don’t know why I keep putting off the decision.
Actually, I do know why. I think that’s obvious.
It’s because of course I do know where I’m going next. But I’m not quite ready yet. I need more time. I need more time to think.
The French tourists are still staring at me blankly, so I give them a thumbs up and turn back towards the bus driver, Terry, who is laughing at me in the mirror. He’s Scottish and I sat up the front so we could chat. He’s brill, I really like him. I swear to God, he is a character ripped straight out of Last of the Summer Wine. Those old dudes were all so sassy.
Terry has been telling me all about his lovely family. He has a son ‘about my age’ who he wants to set me up with, and I’ve already given him my email address and AWOL handle because why not, eh. Maybe his son is hot.
‘Are we nearly there yet, Terry?’ I say, grinning at him in the mirror. He laughs at me again.
‘You’re a very impatient young lady, aren’t you, Alice?’ he says like every dad, ever.
‘I am just excited to get to where I’m going,’ I say and he shrugs.
‘You need to learn how to enjoy the journey,’ he replies, kindly. ‘Stop always chasing what’s next and embrace the now. That’s what I tell my boys, and I’ll tell you the same. Slow down and look around you, or you’ll end up going round in circles. There are many ways of going forward, but only one way of standing still.’
‘Ooh, Terry, that’s dead wise,’ I say, in awe.
‘It’s a Franklin Roosevelt quote,’ he says, indicating and checking his blind spot. ‘You have to be responsible for making your own life worth living, and choosing to be happy. There’s no point waiting around for someone else to solve life for you and deliver happiness to your front door. You’ve got to live, not just exist.’
I am quiet, thinking about his words.
‘Terry, I think you might be a genius,’ I say at last.
‘That’s what they tell me,’ he replies conversationally.
We pull up a few minutes later, and I grab my bag from the overhead compartment. It is so much lighter and I swing it onto my back with ease. It makes me laugh thinking what a literal weight it is off my shoulders.
I realised, when I was packing up, that I am an idiot. I’ve been carrying around so much unnecessary stuff since I got here. I had a whole make-up bag I’ve toted around Thailand for no reason. I haven’t actually worn mascara since I left LA, never mind foundation, cover up, BB cream, powder, et al.
Obviously I am hideous, but who cares, really? You spend a few days wearing your patchy, discoloured, pale skin out in the world, and you get used to it. You realise nobody is really interested.
I also had an array of clothes and shoes I would never wear out here, because – shocking revelation coming up – Thailand is not a very ‘stiletto’ place.
I know, what a surprise.
And I had so many stupid pointless items I’d panic-packed at the start of this trip. It seems completely laughable now. A first-aid kit? Hair straighteners?? And I really don’t know when I would ever really need Sellotape while travelling.
Anyway I packed it all up separately in a suitcase and had it sent back to my old flat – Eva and Jeremy’s place.
I’m down to the basics now – a few t-shirts, some shorts and skirts, a couple of pairs of flip-flops – and it is so freeing. I actually feel really wonderful.
I hug Terry goodbye and he promises to be in touch. It’s so nice making these random connections. Whatever happens next, I want to do that more. I want to stay connected with the world around me. Strangers have so much to offer.
Inside the airport, I find a quiet corner and fire off a message to Eva.
Her reply is fast: ‘YESSSS! I’m here!!! Waiting by the computer.’
I fire up Skype and the oxytocin floods me as we connect and her lovely round face fills my screen.
‘Oh my God, Eva!’ I say, laughing. ‘You’re pregnant!’ She laughs too, and stands back, a bit awkwardly, away from the screen so I can see how her body has filled out in the last few weeks. Guilt flashes through my brain, realising how much I’m missing.
‘Mum says I’m going to be huge,’ she says, laughing, as she sits back down. ‘She says she’s very disappointed in me, as it’s not the Slate way. We’ve been dainty pregnant women for generations apparently.’
‘Dainty can eat my shit,’ I say, smiling. ‘No one has ever made a human being inside them elegantly.’
She laughs again. ‘I think Mum did. She was still throwing tea parties for Mags a week before she had me.’
I cock my head. ‘Mags?’
‘Auntie Margaret.’
‘You have an auntie Margaret?’
She looks sheepish. ‘Sorry, I meant Princess Margaret. She was one of Mum’s besties. They got up to all sorts. She says The Crown doesn’t know the half of it.’
I snort. ‘God your family is weird.’
She goes red. ‘Anyway, you look amazing. You’re actually a bit tanned!’
I shake my head, gesturing around me. ‘I’m not, I think it’s just the lighting in here.’
‘It’s good lighting then,’ she says, studying me closely. ‘You really do look great. How is it over there? I thought you were leaving Thailand this week? Where are you now?’
‘I’m still in Thailand,’ I confirm with a nod. ‘I’m flying north today for one last week and then I will have to move on for my third and final trip.’
‘Where to?’
‘Not sure yet,’ I hedge, looking away.
‘If you’re heading back to Europe, Cousin Penelope’s Lake Como lodge is probably free?’ Eva says eagerly. ‘What does Mark think? Surely he has an opinion on your next adventure? Mark has never not had an opinion.’
I hesitate. Here we go, I guess.
‘Actually, um, Mark’s gone now,’ I say casually.
‘Oh?’ she s
ays, not looking too concerned. ‘Did he have to get back to work?’
‘Um, well, actually,’ I take a deep breath. ‘We kind of had a big fight and he stormed off with Joe. I haven’t spoken to him in two weeks.’
She puts her hand to her face, looking upset. ‘Oh Ali, I’m so sorry, that’s so sad. Are you OK? What on earth happened? Oh no, it wasn’t what me and him talked about, was it . . .?’
I wave my hand dismissively. ‘It’s not your fault, Eva. You know what he’s like. He’s such a dick. So sure of everything and always bossing me about, thinking he knows what’s best for me. And yet heaven forbid he actually lets me into his personal life, or tells me anything about what is happening in his head.’
Eva looks at me sadly. ‘I’m really sorry.’
I sit up straighter. ‘Honestly, Eva, it’s actually been great without him. I was upset for, like, a hot minute, and then I got back out there and started having fun again. My friend Clara helped put things in perspective, and so did a coach driver called Terry. People are amazing. And I’ve seen so many beautiful, stunning things, I can’t even tell you. I feel so light and free.’
She smiles but looks a bit misty-eyed. ‘That sounds so nice,’ she says, but she sounds weird. ‘I’m sad I never got to do anything like that. I could do with an escape from life myself.’ She laughs now, a little shakily.
‘Well, why don’t you?’ I say, inspiration suddenly striking. ‘You could fly out here for a week. I could stay on an extra few days up in north Thailand. I’ve already changed my flight a bunch of times, they don’t seem to mind that much. And it’s not like I’m ready to move on to the next place yet anyway, so we’ll have a holiday together. Come. Please Eva. Why not?’
She looks a little thrown.
‘Oh, I couldn’t. I’m nearly six months’ pregnant . . .’ she hedges, but I can see she is tempted.
