I am currently nursing a head cold in a tourist town. Colonia, Uruguay is like a resort destination for citizens of Buenos Aires.
Pretty, a little pricy and a simple choice for weekenders. My mild fever and general lethargy has me with lots of time to think.
I am finding this last month hard. So much identity was wrapped up in riding into towns and villages on a motorcycle. It was a calling card of individuality and helped lubricate the encounters as a traveler, not a tourist.
Plus what ever glory I felt in achieving my goals is fading and the journey is ending in a whimper. Not to mention I’m disorientated by the ease of life on foot and busses. I miss the ab workout of strong head winds and slippery rain as riding does take some physical energy.
I know that it is my attitude that is at fault and I’m trying to reconcile this but for now I just want to kvetch.
How fickle is the human spirit to have moved my body across a substantial part of the globe yet feel disappointed that I only scratched the surface. My style of travel was very cautious and for that I feel sad that I missed so much. I dream of taking my acquired knowledge and confidence and do it all again. I suppose one could say that about most lives lived.