We go to the El Ejido park on Saturday to stroll through the art which is exhibited there on weekends, take advantage of the Sunday closure of key roads in Quito to make a car free cycle trail all through the city, by hiring bikes and touring the capital on two wheels, and then we found it all off by hitting the heaving streets of Quito on Sunday evening, as everything heats up ready for Independence day on Monday. We will miss independence day itself because on Monday we are going to the Cloud Forest to lose ourselves in greenery and walking, but we get a taste of it on independence day eve. There are military bands, puppet shows, museums open at night and for free (if you don't mind queuing for literally hours), food stalls and above all, crowds. It's jubilant band nice, but otherwise a similarly heaving atmosphere to a festival in London, or another capital city. Capitals the world over do seem to tend towards a homogeneous norm. We like the celebrations but find them familiar rather than eye opening.
All of this makes for a great weekend, but I don't have any huge revelations to make about it, or any deep insights because of it, so I will use this opportunity to talk about what I suppose is the elephant in the room...
The fact that we are going home soon.
In weeks, in fact, not even a month.
And how do I feel about this? Well, perhaps surprisingly, perhaps not, it feels pretty much the same as it felt coming away.
When we were preparing to leave home in September last year, there was a mix of emotions, vying with each other for precedence. On the one hand we were focused on getting out and away, on the other on saying goodbye. It was not quite a limbo period, because there was too much to do for there to be any sense of waiting, but certainly I felt my mind to be equally present in both places.
What I am now experiencing is the reverse. Mirrored almost exactly.
Like the journey ahead of me back in September 2014, I now find myself longing for and fearful of home in equal measure. I have missed family and friends and am excited to go back to work. Equally, I am oddly uncertain. I can't quite imagine what being at home will be like.
On the one hand we are settling back into well worn routines. But there are some key changes to those routines, and some key changes in ourselves, and our attitudes. Will we remember new found wisdoms? Will we really do the things we plan?
And as far as the travelling goes, getting ready to leave this lifestyle feels a lot like getting ready to leave home. Simultaneously I am trying to enjoy everything doubly for the fact I am leaving it, and noticing more the things I will be glad to leavam Lack of road safety, altitude and its effects on my body, the early morning beeping fiesta. It's not negativity, it's a sub conscious preparation for leaving, a coping mechanism we all employ as we prepare for something to end.
Where I was feverishly packing up our house and throwing things away and selling things and storing things, now I find myself feverishly planning. There is no real reason why I need my contacts up to date in google, or an online diary, or a blow by blow plan for who we will meet up with and when. All of it can be done later, or is not necessary at all. But for some reason it suddenly seems to be, not important, exactly, but at least compelling.
I am neither fully here nor fully returned. It's not an unpleasant sensation. In fact it feels like an assurance that life really is great. Later I may feel differently. Perhaps I will experience that 'bubble bursting' sense that people were so keen to tell me I will, right back when we first announced our plans. But for now the going home and the being here are both wonderful, and in perfect balance with each other.
I have nearly completed one journey. I am about to embark on another.
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