Travelling Fatigue

Six weeks, I understand now, was ambitious. Travelling six weeks solid seemed like such a glorious idea. An adventure! Hahahahaaaaaa. Oh Elly, you and your silly ambitious adventures. This last week in Tokyo has been hard. So very hard. I don't think it's the culture differences, or being in a new place, again. Sure. it's difficult to get around, and living in a horrible shoebox of a hotel room (I have so much hate for this small tiny horrible space). And yeah, okay, I often don't know what I'm ordering when I ask for food and yes, people not talking to me and deferring to Zee is really really grating. All of that does suck a bit and I'm over it.

But really, the hard bit is not being home. It's living out of a suitcase, and not doing laundry and always eating out. It's not having the down time, because you feel you should be out making the most of it. It's isolating yourself, away from your people, your friends. Being separate, apart. It's the not having a home.

I miss London. I miss having a base, I miss the familiar. Also, weirdly, I really want a burrito.

Six weeks, as excited as I was, was ambitious. Six weeks, three countries, two tourists.

Ha. I probably won't do that again. And if I did? I'd schedule the country that is celebrated for it's very different culture at the start of the trip, and end with the familiar. Ah well. Lessons learnt, no?