Just about every Saturday morning I wonder into the Queen Vic Market and do the weekly food shopping. I find the whole process very relaxing, despite the herds of mothers pushing strollers and fathers stuffing themselves full of hot jam doughnuts. I’m always fondly reminded of the markets visited in Barcelona, Prague, Saigon, Siem Reap…
As a single shopper, with a long list of friendly trustworthy sellers to visit, I expertly weave in between these bemused folk. There’s something rather sweet about young children seeing the live crabs and an entire fish for the first time. A culinary innocence perhaps?
Despite the distractions of these little pockets of visual, the triple cream Brie screaming out my name and the friendly ladies at the French Shop I usually complete my ritual within 45mins. Including at least one latte stop. Sometimes two.
Today’s experience ended up with a bouquet of flowers for me and one for mum and the realisation that I kinda like me. No let’s be honest here I love me. Now not in a vain sitting in front of the mirror stroking my own hair kinda way but more so the I’m comfortable being me and enjoying me being me kinda way.
This self enlightenment slapped me in the face as I was browsing the colourful array of flowers and deciding which ones would suit me best, as I planned a weekend of domestic bliss (code word for needed something to distract me from shitty housework). A younger couple strolled into the stall as I was reminiscing over travels gone by. Tulips, sunflowers, gerbrias, rice flowers… The male counterpart had started to declare how he didn’t buy into that commercial crap of flowers and stuff. I won’t bore you with the details of his ironic and naive rant against the man. I felt like turning around and asking him how against the commercial crap is he, as he rocked our a pair of $200 shoes and that Justin Beiber inspired hair do. Instead I smiled politely at the young girls running the stall, bought myself some beautiful tulips and mum a small bouquet of lilies.
As I waddled back to my car with flowers and fresh produce I realised how much happier I was buying myself flowers, rather than bowing to the needs of a jerk like that. Younger me would have. Old cranky me is in a more zen place about me and who I want around me. And much more focused on making me happy with travels near and far!
My first solo-ish trip to Guyana then New York taught me the importance of trust and self sufficiency.
A few months later a two week jaunt in Tokyo helped me discover how much fun I can be by being me.
The next few trips around Europe and the UK, and New Zealand, with James in tow, gave me a harsh lesson in team work and compromise.
Our latest journey through Indochine taught me the joy of good food and good company. No matter what the road throws at you.
My travels haven’t always gone right and sometimes not always entirely wrong.
Travelling throughout my 20s helped me become who I love today. I’m not always perfect, I’m not always happy with me but I do love where I’ve been and what I’ve seen and done.
As I spend this last year in my glorious 20s I plan to see more of me exploring this great place called life
Love the goat sign!