Discomfort zone

I think the “big city life” is still what suits me best, at this point in my life. I’m still a fan of walkable neighborhoods, public transport, and all the other advantages this lifestyle offers. I’ve learnt to embrace the downsides this all comes with (these downsides or trade-offs being cost, space and noise, in no particular order). Paris and Berlin have shaped me and my views for the past two decades. For the longest time, I didn’t see any alternative to living in a large city.

At the same time, I’ve always said as a joke that I would be living by the sea, one day. Without knowing how, or when, this is something that’s always been appealing to me. This has probably been on my bucket list since the first time I was able to fly somewhere warm and sunny for holidays. If we travelled together in the past, I’ve probably told you about it at least once.

The past weeks have been a succession of not-so-densely-populated and relatively difficult to reach places, very far from what I would call my comfort zone. I though this would all be very uncomfortable, but in reality, this isn’t as uncomfortable as I expected. Sure, being a complete foreigner in a country for an extended time without speaking the language is not comfortable, but it fades away pretty quickly, once you find your pace.

When it comes to material discomfort, I’ve only experienced a few issues like power cuts during or after a heavy rain, and a broken AC in an hotel, but that’s pretty much it. There are plenty of small other inconviniences in the day to day life that I don’t care about anymore. Me and my backpack are doing fine. I can actually get by with less comfort than I thought I needed.

Discomfort is maybe somewhere else, but not in a location sense. The mistake I probably made was to only think about material discomfort in the first place. I thought that most of it would simply come from the complete change of location. But the weird thing about a discomfort zone (if such a thing exists) is that you can’t really know what it is, until you find yourself there.

Going on a day trip with a small group of travellers was one of the most significant things I’ve done so far. It made me realize how little contact I’ve had with new people since the pandemic started, and more critcally, how comfortable I got with it. My living room is a fairly comfortable place to be in, but getting on this hike with ten strangers was definitely the right move.

I obviously didn’t need to go on the other side of the world to start talking to strangers, but here, on my own, it feels like I just have to. I also have to be open and honest about a lot of things, starting with why I’m here and why I’m doing this.

So here I am, writing from a place where I didn’t think I would be at this time, and where a short discussion with a stranger made me rethink most of my itinerary for next year. You have no idea how much this scares me.

Talking to strangers is my discomfort zone, and very surprisingly, I don’t really want that to change.

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