I just got back in from a long walk and tapas in Barcelona. Been feeling a bit bummed out this evening, despite the warm and lovely evening in the city. I've got this weird feeling of having a lot on my mind and nothing on my mind. Yes, confusing. It's probably the full moon.
While taking care of some flight updates and waiting for my flight from Tegel, I was thinking about all of the flying I've done. It's nowhere near as much as what business travelers do everyday but I like tallying up the travel stats. It makes me feel like I'm a jet setter or something.
Anyhow, I have been away from the states for 62 days. Over those two months, I've taken sixteen flights through thirteen countries (airlines include: Lufthansa, British Airways, EasyJet, RyanAir, Sky Europe, Transavia, Swiss Air, Click Air, Fly Niki, Germania, and Air Berlin). I've ridden on trams, buses, the underground metro, or on trains in those countries. I estimate walking around 35 to 50 miles per week. I've stayed in at least sixteen different hostels. I've slept two nights on trains and one in an airport. Yet, I have so far to go before I see you all again. Someone asked me a week ago whether I was homesick. I thought about it and realized that no, I wasn't. The other day I wondered why and I was thinking that maybe I was sick of home. But ever since my birthday came around, I have been missing the states a bit. I talked to a girl tonight who's moving to Los Angeles at the end of the summer. I must say, I miss that city. But what will I do? I had a lot of chats with Julian about filmmaking, life paths, and whatnot. I'm too sleepy to get into it right now and girls in short skirts keep walking through the hostel lounge. Much too distracting. I'm going to get some sleep. I'm only rambling now anyhow.
After a long and toilsome march, weary of the way, [the wanderer] drops into the nearest place of rest to become the most domestic of men... But soon the passive fit has passed away; again a paroxysm of ennui coming on by slow degrees, Viator loses appetite, he walks about his room all night, he yawns at conversations, and a book acts upon him as a narcotic. The man wants to wander, and he must do so, or he shall die.
-Sir Richard Burton, Personal Narrative of a Pilgrimage to El-Medinah and Meccah, 1855
Check out Azad's photoblog update. Since I won't be able to make it to Iran, he's been showing us that Life Goes On In Tehran.