Two years on the road - on the other side of the world

14th January 2013: in the peaceful Portuguese town of Loulé it is time for a farewell, for saying see you soon, for one more departure, for the start of a new journey, a small step for both man and mankind, an insignificant start of a personal odyssey which will bring nothing new to the world, the restart of the pursuit of a dream, that of leaving home to return to it from the other direction, testing without doubt or reason that the world is truly round, trying to understand if it still is possible to make such a journey without planes and without being called a lunatic or being a millionaire, trailing ahead with the sole purpose of knowing each kilometer of the way, each culture, each moment, each difference, each doubt, each certainty that will arise from the inner journey running in parallel, making the way without haste to arrive home again, someday, doing it all for no reason, simply impelled by life itself.

14th January 2015: in the peaceful Papuan town of Aitape a new day begins, two years past, nearly 40,000 kilometers and 22 countries later, after traveling many roads, after walking many streets, after sailing many waves of the many yet to come, in the Pacific in front of me and in the Atlantic that awaits me patiently. But it’s just the wake of one more day, welcomed with sleepy eyes as so many before, woken up by a cold shower, brought back to life by a hot cup of coffee, which I drink before peaking at the world outside my window to find it so different, so new, so strange, yet mine.

Out the window I see the Papua New Guinea to where I just arrived, this near geographic antipode of home, this antipode-and-a-half of my world, in all so different, so rough, so difficult, even violent sometimes, but in a way more human than my own in the sincere smiles that are shared, in the simple habit that was lost in the west of saying hello to passerby’s, of welcoming you to strange lands, of holding your hand for a moment to know who you are even if your name is soon to be forgotten.

Wandering around, as those I see, I take a stroll along a beach of violent waves, as abyssal as those that brought me here two days ago, taking after a walk in the market to buy something to eat while curious eyes carefully analyze each step I take, in a mix of awe and indifference, in a village-like curiosity which suites well this town, this country perhaps, and which also suites me well in its gentle, welcoming and affable manner, especially in a day like today, that follows two years of wander, away from home, accompanied by myself, with so many roads overcome, with so much overwhelming nostalgia to bare, and which I celebrate in a feverish aimless wander through the antithesis of my world, finding comfort in my old friend the sea, but also in the giant trees that give shade to the square, under where a countless number of people rests and chats, and where I sit myself while stopping for a bit to find me faced with the question ‘What am I doing here?’, only to answer to myself swiftly ‘Where else would I be?’.

Two years of travel, 24 months on the way home, 730 days around the world and only half way gone, and despite the obvious tiredness I look myself in the mirror just to confirm the certainty shun by the glare of my child-like eyes, which today as always only know how to contemplate what still is left to wander.

Aitape, Papua New Guinea, 14th January 2015