Oops! It seems like 19 months have passed since we left our home. and — oops! — It seems that our neighbors now live in our apartment. and — oops again — it seems that we don’t want to go back!
how did this happen?
19 month ago we took sunscreen, several textbooks for children, medicine, T-shirts with us and flew to the tropics without a return ticket.
Well, who hasn’t thought of one day giving up everything and running away to the other side of the world? It’s like pouring gasoline on a basket of old clothes and throwing a match into it. in the morning there will be nothing to wear.
It means you’ll have to get something new. what other options?
we got it. and this new one turned out to be,our whole life — no less. no more.
as you can imagine, the fire was really high.
and ruthless.
-mom, dad, one day we will run away from our home.
we will wear our cool sneakers on the sandy beach, eat very spicy food, listen to the ocean instead of royksopp and begin to forget our native language.
just… one problem.
The thing is, mom, dad, we are 37 years old, and we already have two children. one of them is a teenager. but he wasn’t the one who ran away. his parents did it.
what a surprise.
no, mom, dad, we didn’t climb out of the window. we walked out the front door. because we are adults, sensible people.
but it is not exactly.
but let’s be honest. when we say that we are traveling as a group of four… this is not entirely true. we always have a couple of friends with us. namely, our good old thermos from Ikea (a traveler’s best find). and — our loyal GoPro vlogging camera.
they are with us everywhere and everytime.
and we are also followed by a whole zoo of stuffed animals, two battered Barbies, a hobo bear and plasticine. so, we are never bored.
but we can be sad.
Sometimes.
but this also passes quickly.
and when this passes, we again begin to show off in front of the camera, buy new bright clothes, bring sand to bed on our feet and surprise both mom and dad and everyone around us.
19 months away from home.
No homemade pancakes for breakfast. No golden autumn with pumpkins and leaves. No socks and sneakers. No school with attending classes, no office work, no ficus on the windowsill. No neatly arranged hair with a blow dryer. No moisturizing cream. No evening glass of wine on the couch. No butter, no rye bread, no dark chocolate. No spiral notebooks. No children’s activities. No shopping for “something” for the house. No slippers and pajamas. No alarm clock at 7 in the morning, no traffic jams, no wind, no morning chill. No bubble baths with hot water. No robot vacuum cleaner. No weekends with parents. No balcony seedlings. No berry picking in the forest. No vanilla cakes from “Vkusvill”. No windbreakers at the bottom of the backpack. No St. Isaac’s Cathedral.
But with a cold latte with ice cubes. With bright clothes and a deep tan. With new acquaintances and new hobbies. With a fogged-up beer can under a palm tree. With tuna toasts on the 7/11 steps. With colorful bracelets on wrists and ankles. With jungle hikes. With evening tennis. With sincere conversations in broken English. With selfies on the beach at sunset. With bunches of orchids in the kitchen vase. With a pot of mussels on the stove. With ease and freedom. With prayers for rain. With Zoom conferences. With online certifications. With a sense of boundlessness. With kisses in the sea. With Tarot readings before bedtime. With the search for new shooting locations. With creative discussions by the pool. With faith in oneself.
Whew.
19 months, a little bit of everything.
How serious are all those people who say: “I wish I could start my whole life all over again.”
we were very serious.
You can ask us what it’s like to start over from scratch.
oh!
we can tell you a lot about this.
