Endlessly bubbling words in one moment, silence in another. Not typing any word.

The longer I stop writing, the harder it gets. The more perfectionist I get, the more doubts I have, the less I know how to unite single words to a harmonious group.

I’m home, and the five weeks of traveling feel like a weird dream to me now. You wake up, and you wonder, what was that all about? What did you do? You just stumbled through those odd events until you awoke.

When I wrote “The Right Decision” at the beginning of November, I had made up my mind to go back to Germany and already booked my flight. I’d be traveling through Vietnam for 6 weeks and get back on December 12. I was happy with my decision, it felt good to have some time to explore the country. When I got to Mui Ne on November 8, I stayed at a hostel by the beach, surrounded by other backpackers. I wouldn’t have expected to feel weird and out of place in their company after just a single week of living with locals, but I did.

And then I got sick. Tonsillitis. Thankfully, I could stay with a woman I had met in Saigon: Yen, her Belgian husband Pieter and her son Antoine (a very cute, very lively little monkey). I had healthy food (finally lots of greens, vegetables, smoothies and the tastiest honey I had ever tried – fresh jungle honey!), a clean bathroom, a large bed, a kettle to make ginger tea and most of what I needed to take care of myself. But I felt lonely, and homesick and pretty shitty. And at some point, I asked myself, what am I doing here any longer? Nothing is flowing, I never really feel happy, I’m not enthusiastic. The thought of returning to Europe earlier began taking shape. But I wasn’t sure if I was feeling that way due to tonsillitis or because the tonsillitis just made obvious what was already there. Some talking to my friends and my mum helped me settle for No. 2 and I did the craziest thing I had done in a while. I rebooked my flight so I would leave Asia just a couple days after. I felt as alive as I hadn’t in quite a long time.

I realized that for a long time I had just been waiting. Waiting to meet someone I would really connect with, waiting for the next place to be very beautiful, waiting for my expectations to turn into reality. But most of all, waiting to return back home and see all the people I love. I remembered the blog post I wrote before I left, “Waiting for the Here and Now”. It’s about how much time we actually spend waiting for something and how I don’t want to do that. Traveling on my own made me learn how tough it can be to implement that. Another thing I learned, though, is that refusing to wait and instead actually enjoying the moment is not always just about changing your attitude. It is in many cases, but sometimes it also means to change your environment. You can’t always do that, that’s when you can only alter your thinking about the situation you’re in, but when you can and you feel like that’s what you need to do in order to end the waiting, that’s what needs to be done.