2015.09.04 09.06 The winds are changing, apparently. The monsun season is coming in about a month.
16.05 For some reason I’m almost more stressed when I’m actually travelling than I am before. I love looking forward to things, live in the knowledge that I’m going soon. But now when I’m actually here, my inability to live in the present makes it difficult to forget that I’m going home. At the same time I am here very now. But I don’t know, it stresses me that there are so many things I’ll never belong to. So many cultures I’ll never know, and so many streets I’ll never remember.
Here, everything is different. The way they build houses, which makes me think that we don’t do it wrong, but maybe that we’re a bit boring. There are a lot of ways to do things. And the plants. My uncle pointed some of them out for me today. The ones we have inside of the stone walls where we stay. The hedge around the small house we’re renting is apparently passion fruit. Lemon trees grow close by. Mango. Close to the pool there’s a big avocado tree and on the grass lies drop-fruit that looks like eyes. We went on walks right outside as well, but you have to be a bit careful. It’s okay since it’s daytime at least. A bit boring though with walls around a lot of places. You have to walk away a bit, to where all the people are. They look at you a lot. There are not a lot of white people here, and apparently they’re fascinated by long hair since most people here have to wear extensions to get that. But everyone does have really beautiful hair, I think it’s important for a lot of people. They all really do carry things on their heads as well, It really does look stereotypical, almost everything here, like the heart of our image of Africa. But a bit dry. It is the very end of the dry season now and there’s a lot of wind, there’s changing before the monsun next month. And the ground is very red, red dust in your eyes from the wind. There are a lot of people by the road as well, and small stalls that look like they’re falling apart, pieces of plastic balanced on sticks, plastic bags hanging down with fruits and all sorts of things. Furniture that they make themselves stand along the road. A whole world of life and people milling around that you can see because it’s not hidden behind houses and walls, in most areas. It’s meaningless to try to find your way though, few places have correct addresses.
Maybe that’s why you need to travel. To see that the trees can look different (Some of them have branches that aren’t spread out, but instead collected in a ring so that they fan out in all directions and almost form different floors) Otherwise I get stuck with birches and familiar ways to say hello and inside jokes and forget (don’t longer know) and this I should remember.
22.24 I love to forget who I am. Look at my face in the mirror and not being able to recognise it. We’re souls, not volume, sometimes I think it’s bad that we can see.