Tectonic plates are shifting. It’s a phrase that has been coating my tongue for months now with the forgotten, yet familiar flavour of change; a bitter-sweet spirit drawn from a half-empty bottle at the back of the highest cupboard. To be tasted with caution.
When we moved to Prague, we never intended to move to Prague. It just sort of happened: an idea dreamed up on the bottom bunk of a dorm in Bucharest at Easter. We’d been traveling, which was good, but we were also tired after moving way too fast, spending 6 months in 9 countries and coming to the realization we needed a modicum of stability if we were ever going to figure out how to make this lifestyle financially possible.
I came up with the idea after about 10 minutes of online research into the Czech Republic’s freelance visa, and gently nudged Geoff over a period of weeks until, sitting on a ledge overlooking Belgrade, we decided together to pull the plug. That night, we bought plane tickets leaving from Split, and made a loose plan to get there in time for our May 21 departure.
Fast-forward to last summer, when we realized almost immediately that Prague is probably not our forever home. By November, we had decided we wouldn’t be renewing our visa, until a tipsy, gluhwein–mit-Schuss-fuelled night in Nuremberg when we decided we weren’t ready to leave Europe. Whether it was the potent, boozy combo in our boot-shaped mugs or what we wanted in our heart of hearts, we’ll never know; such is the risk one takes when one invites schnapps into the decision-making process.
Months marched on. I got more writing work than I knew what to do with. We went to Paris and Berlin and Stockholm, and took a bus to an unpronounceable city in central Poland filled with tiny, enchanting dwarf statues doing human-like things, like gambling and using the ATM. A story for another day.
Winter turned to spring, and Geoff started to land work as a video editor. We went to Spain for TBEX, where we caught up with some of the funnest people we know before spending 10 days in a villa collaborating on video projects with even more funnest people.
It was somewhere in Spain we noticed it…barely noticeable and gentle enough at first that it took weeks before we acknowledged it, and another few before one of us thought to vocalize it. When we finally opened our mouths, it came out as a familiar roar we’d both heard before: sameness; furious itching on the soles of our feet.
We looked at each other…over days and weeks and months, and the spell of Prague crumbled around us, without a plan in place. Adventure lust.
Pingback: 10 Awesome Life Lessons from 2 Years of Full-Time Travel - Wandertooth