The Hardest part is Leaving

I San Diego Bay

I already have packed a lot memories. Saw a flight of pelicans. The Pacific Ocean. Palm trees everywhere. Sun in February... With the pictures and the notes that go with them to make sure I remember everything.

After three days, I'm using the wi-fi connexion on the coastal train between San Diego and Los Angeles, along the ocean, for a first assessment. First conclusion : the hardest part is leaving.

Leaving from my house to take the plane, a moment I was looking forward to, well thought, that couldn't be otherwise. But I now realize that the next six months will be filled of neverending goodbyes. Departures. We must know how to leave a city just to embrace the next one. Be confident enough to decline the invitation to go out, the night before that departure, even if a group of sympathetic Quebecois just got in the hostel. And say the last goodbye to the travelers you leave behind, those you bonded with sooooo fast.

I have been the one who stays, for three nights, while others where leaving. I became the one who left, while others stayed. And I realized I took no picture of these new friends.

In two days, I'll be the one who leaves again, on a flight to Oceania.

In the mean time, I'll need to be disciplined so my nights get longer. Just saying...