MeliGoesRogue

It’s time I’m honest. I started this blog as a way to record my hearts thoughts as they happen on these solo trips and yet somehow during this trip as I attempt to put my fingers to the keys I become stumped. Not because of the adventure itself but rather because instead of being a melody of the things I see and feel it is a play by play of the things I did. I don’t want that for me, for this, for us. So there may be days where I post every detail and others where just my heart emerges to imprint on that small part of you that draws you here. I’ve realized this isn’t a travel blog it’s a story about a woman on the road and at home and how a country can change or reveal that which we might try to suppress.

So shall I tell you how this trip has made me feel….

There is something melodic about a new city. The pace of those who call this home. It feels as though I am inserting myself into someone’s family. Sitting at their table for dinner and hearing their private conversations.

Reverence seems to be my word for this voyage. Living in such a young country we tend to not have the resilience of countries that have fought wars on their lands for thousands of years. Understanding occupation and oppression not in the modern view but a literal one. Where people stay in their homes as bombs go off around them, their churches burning and their fortress turned into a symbol of intimidation.

My head hit the pillow and almost instantly I was off dreaming of the adventures to come. One of the many gifts of these foreign lands and their time zones is the facility with which I am able to sleep. It is a gift I am never quick to forget. I awoke with no jolt but rather from the cold air that has penetrated the brick walls meant to protect me.

Auf Wiedersehen