One thing I've never had before is a police officer stepping out after I clear customs and he asked me a bunch of questions about my trip. I was wondering as a lone traveller with occupation 'artist' etc if I fit some profile, and it was the only time in all the 6 month lead up to my trip this officer was the first to question what I was doing.
Afterwards, assuming that I had passed the test, whatever it was and I should have because I have no other agenda aside from exactly what my trip is.
It occured to me though that nobody had questioned my trip on psychological grounds. I mean, I had a good life, sitting in a studio eating doritos and watching tv, taking it easy for 8 months a year and working intensely 4 months a year, which is ideal for me. I had good friends, an easy job. Shit was going on. I'd worked hard to get that life.
Then last week I basically dismantled it, left my studio, my job and flew out of the country to spend my savings. Hitting the reset on the whole thing. I mean I don't anticipate losing my friends. But why? Nobody questioned my sanity. I was able to say, that lacking responsibilities I was able to answer the why question. But really was it sane for me to do what I'm doing?
My rationale is that the comfort of my life was getting dangerous. That old philosophical problem of when a few stones become a pile. It isn't one, or two, or three, but eventually you get an ambiguous number of stones that make up a pile, but even if you empirically literally added stone by stone until somebody said stop, that number you had would not be a definitive answer.
So too, at 32 there was no real problem with continuing my lifestyle, as is, for anotyher day, a few more weeks, a couple of years maybe. But one day it would have become sad. I had to blow it up, and I was never going to make that call for myself. No, tohm of 6 months ago had to make that call for myself.
So when I come back, I'll be changed, probably slightly, and I'll have toi rebuild. Hopefully something better.