There's this feeling suddenly just come and go from time to time that I couldn't quite understand myself no matter how many times I've tried to analyse it. I couldn't even name it properly. The kind of feeling when I wake up on a beautiful Sunday morning and I just don't want to meet anyone even though I am about to meet a dear friend for a coffee at my fav cafe.
Some days, I complety hate being alone, I constantly look at my phone to see if any of friends are online or the Couchsurfing hangout to find someone to spend time having a cup of coffee with. Some other days, the idea of being with people scares the hell out of me for no reasons at all.
I've Couchsurfed basically everywhere I go in Germany, Slovenia, France, Austria and Spain since May and each one of them was an uniquely amazing experience as I've been received so much kindness I couldn't exactly describe by words how grateful I am. But sometimes, I do think I will change my original plan to visit a place if I cannot find a host. It is not because I don't want to spend money to stay in a hostel or a airbnb, I think it is more like I am afraid I will not be able find anyone to strike up a conversation the whole trip. At least I can still guarantee I'll have a few quick conversations with my Couchsurfing host now and then even if he/she is busy. On the other hand, since the day I started using Couchsurfing finding hosts function, I become even more spontaneous and more willing to travel alone than before and right now, most of the times, I don't even like the idea of having a travel companion even if that means friends (except if it's my best friend). I love wandering off around to enjoy the city's vibrancy alone, taking all the magnificent sceneries in. I wonder what it is inside that makes me such a confusing person even to myself.
Today is one of the days the feeling just comes out of the blue when I woke up. Sitting in the living room, procrastinating studying for one midterm next week by watching the last season of Breaking Bad, suddenly I heard people speaking either Catalan or Spanish loudly outside, I felt a strange and inexplicable feeling that I had never felt before. It was the watery rush of homesickness as if an ocean was rising up in my chest. For the first time ever, I feel deeply in my heart that I am, I really am so far away from home.
Sehnsucht - another German word that has no equivalent in English - to describe the inconsolable longing in the human heart for a far, familiar, non-earthly land one can identify as one's home. Now, more than ever, I long to be transported into my home, to sit down quietly and take a cup of coffee at Tranquil, to walk up the path to see my beloved ones, to wrap my arms around them, and to stay there forever and ever.
Maybe, just maybe I have to leave in order to really miss home, to travel to figure out how truly beloved my starting point was.