When you’ve already left

In a fortnight I’ll be leaving the country I’ve been living in, and the job I’ve been doing, for the last six months. But I think my brain has already packed its bags and got on the plane without the rest of me…

Partly because these last days at work will be difficult and stressful – and because, short of unexpected disasters,  there’s not much more for me to do but manage the process I planned months ago. Which is important, and will be challenging, but it’s not inspiring somehow.

Partly because with such a short time to go there’s no point starting anything new, so my time is spent saying goodbye to people rather than planning new and exciting things to do with them.

And partly because what’s ahead (a month of tango in Buenos Aires!) is such an exciting prospect.

I keep finding myself going round my flat identifying what to pack and what to give away.

And I’ve just recieved a whole stack of books (including the latest by three of my favourite authors (Diana Wynne Jones, Garth Nix and Eoin Colfer), and displaying incredible self-control by not reading them – they’re scheduled to be read when I arrive in Buenos Aires. Which sort of emphasises the feeling of life being on hold.

It’s not unpleasant, but it is an odd feeling – to be here but to have already left.

It’s also not conducive to much blogging, so please bear with me… much more exciting stuff to come soon!


3 responses to “When you’ve already left

  1. Woo Hoo! Tango in Buenos Aires, very exciting. I hate saying goodbye.

    Hey, you’re up at the poetry collaborative chain poem.

  2. Congratulations on getting time in Buenos Aires. I’ve always wanted to go there.

  3. I’m jealous. I spent a couple of weeks in Buenos Aires with my wife for our honeymoon a few years ago. It was a real culture shock. The music, the food and the nightlife is amazing. We did the tourist Tango thing for the first few days, then we discovered electronic and hybrid tango. Oh my God! Don’t leave without some. Found some incredible jazz bars, including one called the Jazz Bar which didn’t quite meet with my wife’s expectations. Think fluoro pink signage and a buff bouncer. Well, you guessed it. We were in and out in 5 minutes after politely consuming a 10 dollar bottle of water and trying not to catch the eyes of the pole dancers. Then we were chased down the street by pimps trying to sell me a second playmate. Oh, I could go on. Where to finish. The poverty levels are enormous. Adolescent and teenage girls carrying babies begging for pesos and young men sorting through piles of rubbish that litter the streets looking for cardboard to sell. Homeless young and old browsing the cafe’s with picture cards of Mary provided by the church for sale and being kicked out by the owners who care more about the impressions that the tourists might get. Peaceful riots (yes, I know that’s a contradiction) watched over by masses of police that often outnumber the protestors. The people are beautiful and the city is stunning. I don’t generally drink beer but Qilmez proved that it’s possible to drink litres without feeling bloated and sleepy. Ok, I’ll stop waffling now. Looking forward to seeing your impressions.

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