I just arrived in Prague from Germany...again...and now, sitting behind the window, watching the last winter snow glowing in the sun and frost trying to keep the winter a bit longer among streets, I started to think about the last year. The last year, which I spent partly here in my home country and partly in Germany with my boyfriend. The last year, which was interwoven with the endless thread of wonderful experiences, love, harmony, and discoveries but also with many challenges and moments when two different words clash together, trying to find a position where the toothed wheels of different size will fit perfectly...
We’ve just returned from the first real trip of the year. A real trip is one where the idea of working doesn’t even cross your mind—because you’re focused entirely on survival. Every step matters, you’re figuring out where to eat, where to pitch your tent, and whether the stream or lake water is warm enough to bathe in—or if you’ll have to settle for dousing yourself with a bottle. A real trip begins where the internet ends, where meals for the whole family are cooked over a gas cooker in one pot, where you sleep as long as the kids do, and where you forget the world—except for the one right around you. A lot of people are afraid of real trips. They’re not used to being alone with themselves, carrying their life on their backs, relying solely on their own ability to take care of themselves. Many people pretend they’re going on a trip, but can’t resist the pull of wifi, checking in with friends, a warm bed, or a three-course meal. They’re terrified of disconnectin...
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