We arrived home this morning. At 8.45am we landed, and two queuing hours later we left the airport and headed home. Well, Peter headed for the office, while I set my sights at our house. It always feels weird, coming home from a vacation. And once I’m settled back in the house, it feels like we never went. I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that about 24 hours ago, we walked on a beach, eating fish and chips from a roadside diner, petting cats and reading books.
We spent 10 days there. Half of them lounging on the beach, going out snorkelling every other day or so, reading books (I finished at seven). The rest we tried to explore the island, with various success rates. Like our bike ride around the island, where we headed for a “back road”, which was essentially a smaller, less trafficked road next to the bigger one, but instead ended up 30 min into the jungle, up dirt roads and steep inclines just to end up at a water catchment area. We just turned back. Or when we were out hiking, aiming to climb a mountain and back the other side and thereby crossing the mountain. Only problem was that we climbed the wrong mountain, and first at the top spotted the peak of the mountain we were supposed to climb. Ooops! So we climbed back down, up the right mountain and down the other side, barely making it out of the jungle before the sunsets. My legs still hurt after the 7 hour trek.
Now it’s back to real life. Or real? Raro was real too. But I’m excited to get my routines in order, getting work done and creating again. Because even if it’s real nice to slouch around, after a few days I get stir-crazy and just need to do something. Like work. Oh how I’ve missed work.