I'm ready to go home. [solo female traveler stories]

It is currently 7:11pm, November 26th 2016.
It has been 7 months, 18 days, 11 hours and 23 minutes since I left Canada back in April. I came back briefly in June just to graduate but was on the plane with a one-way ticket the morning after graduation.

I’m sitting close to a watering hole enjoying wild elephants drinking up the 100 litres that they do a day. I’m tired; specifically I’m mentally exhausted.
I’m dirty; specifically I’m hot, sticky, and covered in dirt from all the dust.
I’m stinky; specifically I haven’t showered in 3 days because the effort of taking out shampoo out of 3 separate plastic bags, battling with bugs the size of oranges, and walking across lion territory to get to a bathroom far exceeds the potential comfort that a shower would bring.
I’m wearing the same 2 pairs of shorts, 2 pairs of leggings, and 4 shirts that I packed in my backpack 7 months ago.
My socks have holes, my shirts have permanent stains, and my shorts have seen better days. I’m honestly very impressed that my shoes have even lasted this long. (Edit: my flip flops broke a few days later)

To put it bluntly, I’m ready to go home.
It’s not even my family that I miss (sorry mom), or my friends (like I have any lol), or the weather (quite the opposite because it’s about 40 degrees colder back home right now). I mean, obviously it would be nice to see my people but the need is not strong enough to pull me away from this dream life that I’ve made reality.

I started my trip carving through fresh powder for a week in Whistler, British Columbia

before flying to (still) my favourite place on planet earth, Hawaii, for almost a month.

After taking a short detour back home to attend my own graduation, I set off on a one way ticket to Europe where I was only supposed to be for 2 months but stayed for 5.

After buying a one way ticket to Cape Town, South Africa completely spontaneously, I flew to this magical city and spent 2.5 weeks there before visiting incredible Namibia, elephant filled Botswana, torrential downpour Zambia, tropical Malawi, and Tanzania.

But I’m ready to go home.

I miss comfort. And I don’t mean “comfortable mattress” comfort. I miss walking into a bathroom with my shampoo already in the tub, not having to worry about drying it and putting it in 5 different plastic bags. I miss sitting on a toilet … I honestly don’t remember the last time I didn’t hover. I miss eating nutritious, fresh, NON over seasoned veggies and having an endless supply of fruit.
I miss routine. Never thought I’d say that but I seriously miss having a to-do list, a list of goals, of nonstop productivity, of feeling the importance of having a purpose and being a part of something bigger.
I miss my hobbies. Cycling for 3 hours every day. Painting. School.
I miss my boyfriend… My sweet baby who is so patient and supportive of this need for adventure of mine and who has gotten me through mental breakdowns, cold nights, and logistical crises.
I miss solitude. Sweet baby Jesus do I miss solitude, and the feeling of peace and complete silence… the kind of solitude that I only ever found on top of a mountain (or sand dune). I’ve had very little of this the last couple of months while in Africa. I always knew I was really an old person inside because most people my age drain me.
I’m ready to go home.
I’m ready to go home. But I don’t want to.
There is SO much more to explore in this world and so many more cultures to learn about.
I’d hand wash my clothes a thousand more times to be able to get on another plane to a new destination.
I’d deal with two thousand spiders the size of my head to be able to get lost in another desert under the untouched beauty of a star filled sky.
I’d carry that backpack of mine that contains everything materialistic that I need in life for thousands of miles more to be able to summit another mountain; to feel that incredible feeling of insignificance and solitude.

I’d do anything to keep going.
So even though I’m ready to go home, there’s no way I will anytime soon.
In several days I’ll start my 6 day trek up Mount Kilimanjaro. Then I fly to Belgium for Christmas but I have no plan after that. Maybe Thailand (finally), maybe Europe for round 2; who knows – I’m waiting for a sign.

Chase your dreams people. You’re the only one that is stopping you from doing what you want.
Peace.

[After I wrote this, I ended up traveling to more places I never dreamed I'd go. Stay tuned for more post and feel free to follow me to stay up to date!]