It's very weird though, I was so fired up for the journey (driving from the UK to Greece via ferry, road, train, road, ferry and road) that I hadn't given much thought to the destination.
I was working like a demon the last month before I got here. Trying to get the minutiae of life sorted out before I left - proxy vote, postal redirection all that kind of stuff as well as the delegating of my other business to very capable hands. Oddly, making sure that I had time to see everyone before I went also took on a bit of a mission type quality... Lovely to do, but had a mental ticklist of who I could get seen at what time and where. More pressure, pressure, pressure...
So I was really looking forward to giving myself over to the journey. Just going with the flow, not having to be at the beck and call of the computer or the phone. Just taking it easy.
And it was easy.
Perfect.
A joy.
Even the bad back after the 18 hour train journey couldn't dampen my spirits.
Or driving the wrong way up a one way street in Venice (much to the hilarity of the locals).
One of the advantages of getting older is that I'd allowed plenty of time for mistakes, for traffic jams, for most conceivable obstacles (I left on the day that The Cloud came to town.... couldn't have second guessed that one). So I just gave myself over to the whole thing.
So many people had said to me before leaving - "What you're driving to Greece? On your OWN? Ooh, you are brave".
But it's just not like that in my head. I was organised, I knew what I was doing. I speak a smattering of French, German and Greek and my gesticulating is Olympic standard. So what possible problem could I have. All the sleeping arrangements were made so that you were either alone or with someone of the same sex or a couple. It was all fine.
25 hours on a ferry coming from Venice to mainland Greece? Fine, loved it.
What I HADN'T anticipated, however, was how I was going to feel as I was disembarking the ferry knowing that in 1.5 hours I'd be at my destination.
I WAS COMPLETEY TERRIFIED.
Granted, it was momentary - well, about 20 minutes. But it's not a feeling I'm very au fait with. Generally, I just get on with stuff.
So, it came as quite a shock to feel scared. I sat with it for some time. I texted some close friends and told them how I felt. I realised that all that I'd been talking about for the last two years, all that I'd been planning was about to become a living breathing reality. And it was scary. The What If Monster started trying to take hold, but I have some experience with that particular creature. What if, what shmiff. Just get the hell on with it, Kimbo.
And that's exactly what I did.
Had a lovely text from one friend who said that he was proud of me and that of course I'd be okay because I'm strong. He's right, I am strong. But sometimes I'm not. Feel the fear and do it anyway (I think there might be a book in there somewhere....) is how I become strong. But I start from a position of fear. Am not cowed by it. Accept that it's part of my human beingness and then just get on with it.
I roll up a couple of hours later at my new home. Collapse into bed.
Wake up in paradise.
I am so so happy. I am 20 metres from the beach. I know that I've made the right decision regarding venue. I know that the people I'm working with are fab. The weather's gorgeous. Bookings are coming in.
I am truly blessed.
And of course, this destination is a just a waymarker on the bigger journey... It just gets better and better.
Live adventurously, one and all.
