(un)certainties

I’ve just minimised a number of other people’s blog posts and decided to get on with this myself. That’s more or less what I plan to do with my life now. With our life.

Emma and I share a life, and I can tell you that that is the most enriching, amazing thing. We wilfully share our life! I never actually believed that would happen, but it has. And it’s great. And we’re leaving, in three weeks.

It’s all obvious really, that I’m anxious, that I’m tired, that I’m so excited. Less obvious to me was how happy and sad I would be. The repeated underwhelming goodbyes with people I care for so much that it’s impossible to really ever say goodbye. I guess that comes much later, when we really are departed from each other. Because for now you are all with me and always will be. You’ve impacted so much on my life that your imprint is indelible on my character. We needn’t be near to hold each other close.

It’s because of you that we are setting off to France on October 7, 2012, after nigh on three years of dreaming and planning and work.

We’ll be taking a fairly convoluted route to Colombia: France, Spain, Portugal, Morocco, the Canary Islands, the Atlantic ocean, South America and then onwards, outwards. But you’ll hear all about that as the days pass by. This space is for you, and for us.

The last few weeks, full of farewells, have blown my mind. People I didn’t know a year ago I now consider family. People that didn’t even exist two years ago are now my family. All of you, I can tell, genuinely wish us well. 

We’re not leaving you, I promise. We’re setting out for something else, for other things. We want to hone our post-apocalyptic skills and learn to grow avocados and beans. We want to build things and walk really far. And we want to sit on impossibly beautiful beaches, just like everyone else. And hold sloths.

The only things that I am certain about are that the next three weeks are going to be beautifully happy and sad and that mine and Emma’s adventure will begin its new phase.

Everything else is uncertain. Will my knee hold out for the Camino de Santiago, or even the cycle to work? Will we cross the Atlantic on a yacht or a freighter? Will we see sharks? How long will our money last? Will we see you out there? 

From today I’m going to take a leaf out of Emma’s book and relax a little. I’ve planned about all I can, and more, and it’s time to stop worrying because things will run their course and if I can’t walk we’ll hitch and if we can’t hitch we’ll walk and if we can’t hitch and I can’t walk I’ll lean on Emma because we’ve carried each other so, so far already. And because you can only consult so many Portuguese bus timetables to figure out how the hell you get from Brazil to Colombia, before you lose the ability to talk to people.

These last short weeks before we leave are for you, because we love you. If we can’t get to you, or you to us, then that’s sad but it’s also a brilliant excuse for you to save up and figure out a way out to us, wherever that is. 

In the interim, we’ll start building this blog and writing about some of the things we know about the trip. The blog is likely to change a lot over the coming months, but that only seems apt.

Anthony, London, 19 September 2012