I think I know why slowing down and stopping in the middle of a journey is hard to do when on a trip like this.
The very presence of the muddy motorcycle and my riding cloths provide enough visual backstory to allow people to feel comfortable talking to me. I am somehow vetted and approachable. Perhaps there is also some ancient notion of solo travelers as vulnerable and in need of some contact. That kind of social feedback would allow me to feel more at ease to initiate encounters myself.
Either way it has given me a false sense of my own openness. Now that the bike is parked and I am walking around the city in jeans and a t-shirt ( there is no room to pack fancy cloths on a trip like this) that lonely soul in the city feeling has returned. Just another schmo in sneakers. Hmmm.
Or maybe the cart is pulling the horse. Perhaps just by being in this city it’s triggering an inwardness. Not sure.
As always I am sure it is a combination of the the two.
I know that I am here to work so I will give over to that fully. Creative work can also be a great balm for the soul, no?
Once again, drop the shoulders and try to sleep in the dentists chair.