10%

Your average thursday night

By InSearchofSvet

July 29^th, 2019

I don't know if this a curse all exchange students have, you know study abroad in one country, then another one, change a billion of strange smelling apartments and probably go through three or four different groups of friends. But for most part of my twenties it kind of felt that unless I change a job, a city or an apartment, I was failing at moving forward and "evolving". The whole social media probably does not help at all at feeling happy with what you have and where you are. We all show only the best of our days, weekends or vacations. It's never like: oh I spent my whole weekend cleaning the darkest corners of my room and it felt awesome, and instead is more like: look at this homemade granola I ate at the top of a mountain, which I climbed in record time wearing the most amazing outdoor gear. I am not trying to blame anyone for this distorted portrayal of reality, we all are to blame. I do it, you do it, your old classmate does it too.

So when after getting back from a trip through west coast earlier this month and spending two days at home, yes, you heard it right, TWO days I started feeling like I am getting stale and stagnant, I realized something was not right with my perception of what is a healthy amount of traveling. Did I do it because it truly made me happy? Or did I at some point decide (influenced by travel bloggers deep shaded photos) that it's the only way to be happy, and if I am not somewhere far doing something outstanding I can't feel good about myself.

Don't know if any of this makes any sense, but I decided today that I should probably learn how to be satisfied with where I am and that it's probably a way healthier kind of happiness, than a constant race to #exploremore. lol.

I am staying in Oslo for two months this summer, and even though it sounds ridiculous, I was pretty worried before coming: "will I consider this a successful summer if I stay in one place for so long?".

I am probably not riding even close to what the "cycling society" considers a good amount for the season. But last week Chris and Sindre took friday off so we took Kiba and rode 7km up the gravel roads next to the city to do an overnight camp.

There were no fireworks, we did not conquer a monstrous mountains, hell to it, we didn't even manage to make a proper campfire. But we drank some wine and some beer, starred quietly into the "not the most amazing" sunset over the lake, sling shotted some stones and took turns in cuddling the dog. I mean, maybe that's all you need.

It's probably going to take me some time not to feel that I am failing at life if I am not doing something amazing every second weekend. Nevertheless that overnight camp really reminded me of those long summer days when I was a kid and the only thing I did was nap, read books and walk around the house poking the stick into the dirt, and you know what, I felt totally at peace with that.