Everybody Loves You (When You're Leaving)

Some detested me as soon as they heard a single word about my travel plans. There were some bitter jokes about alleged wealth and/or obvious stupidness. But most people quickly took a warm, friendly interest in this hazy plan to just walk away from it all.

The good advice, the casual conversations and all the good-natured questions came as a pleasant surprise in this grey, old town. Most of the time I've been nothing but wallpaper here. Now the mojo's returning. Oh, yeah! I'm no longer invisible. It feels damn good to get out of the herd. One rat less in the race. What difference does it make? No one needs another bitter man stuck in a dull, old town.

On a final quest for world peace I've even met with the ex-wife (twice) and went to see my sister for the first time in ten years. We're all good now. I hold no grudges. It's time to move on. The stress, anger and fear are slowly evaporating. Anxiety is pointless.

The world is not as frightening as the evening news might make you believe. At least, that's a gamble I'm willing to take.

Paperwork and Preparation

It's seven forty-five in the morning when I'm standing on the most posh avenue of this town. I light the first cigarette of the day and try to relax.

The Indian Visa Office opens at eight. I feel edgy and restless. Applying for an Indian visa might look like an ordinary case of paperwork and paying. It's a huge step forward on this dubious trail. The speed of which reality is catching up with my hazy dreams is truly frightening.

At eight o'clock sharp I take a deep breath and enter the office. It's a tiny place, just a waiting area and a counter. A flat screen in the corner is playing 'Visit India' commercials on the beat of Hindi pop music. There's one person in front of me; a cute, blonde twenty-something girl. She's nervously struggling with glue, passport pics and visa paperwork. While looking for a seat I catch her apologetic smile. We greet in broken English. She looks rather lost and confused in here. Then an official appears and invites her over at the counter. While she's standing there I can't help but notice that her derrière looks very pleasant in those jeans. Slowly my eyes drift upwards. Her sweater appears to be somewhat strange. There are washing prescription tags on the outside. Seams run down from her smooth neck along her sleeves all the way down to her graceful hands... By the time I have finally figured out she's wearing her sweater inside out, she has noticed it too. Quickly she glances around to check if anyone's looking. At this point I'm still very much staring so our eyes meet. I laugh and then she has to laugh too…

Two days later I return to the Visa Office to collect my passport. I'm good to go.

The Great Escape

"Happy New Year and good luck to you!"

The call from Cambodia came through on New Year's Day. As if a single sunbeam bursted through the grey clouds to lighten up my day. The struggle is almost over. My time here is almost done. Only 17 days left on the day job. I still fail to explain exactly what it is that I'm going to do. Most of the time I mumble something vague:

"Backpacking in India, you know. For about a year. Something like that. I'm not really sure. Got a one-way ticket and a little bit of savings. Maybe I'll visit some other countries too. Don't know much else, don't have much to say…"

But that's just because I'm a shy, anxious dude who wants to dissolve into thin air every time someone asks me a personal question. Otherwise I would tell you all about avoiding the way of the dodo, about the Great Escape. About my hopes and dreams, the search for a better place and a happier, more fulfilling live. There is more than grey, old Brussels. I'm done with staring at the shadows on the wall. I don't want to fade away in a boring job, a lonely live, lousy movies on tv and too much cheap beer. That's why I have to leave. That's why I have to get out. Everyday I stay in this room, the borders of my own limitations are vastly expanding. But it doesn't have to go down like this. I don't have to be a shy and anxious man. I can do better.

So this is me doing something. This is about being my own dog. About my humble attempts to become a better man and, why not, make the world a better place in the process.
Oh, and also about India, of course.

No worries, this time I got it all figured out.
My master plan makes perfect sense.
Or, at least, I know it will
Once I get out of here…

Christmas in Brussels

43 days 'till Dehli.

I should be dancing through these times. But, of course, I'm not. Too much time and too little going on. Checking Facebook and Twitter over and over again, playing Angry Birds or looking for new apps in the iTunes store. That's how I spend my holidays. Whenever I'm getting near the edge of insanity I walk the streets alone, window shopping well before dawn.

Christmas Eve consisted of one baguette, too many cheap beers and a bunch of online poker tournaments. Christmas in Brussels. It's not a happy place, it's not a happy time.

Notwithstanding, this Christmas sadness is disgusting. I'm a white dude in a spacious apartment in a nice part of town. Billions of people would kill for this lifestyle. But here I am; bitching and complaining (just like a little girl) about my luxurious, lonely life in Brussels...

It's time to get out before I start to believe in my own misery.

The Logistics Of Leaving

Got a brand new passport, brand new credit cards and one-way ticket to Dehli…
A solid plan. Now it all comes down to the simple logistics of leaving.

Planning and preparation. Making arrangements, canceling subscriptions, visits to the doctor and the bank, reading guidebooks, intensive Googling and lots of staring at the map of the world. The logistics of leaving keep me away from my worries and fears. Too many India-stories seem to involve getting sick, getting scammed, getting robbed. Well, that's not keeping me here. I already got plenty of experience in all of those fields.

I need to go.
Those four little words cover it all.

Weeks have passed since my last phone call with Cambodia. There's even less going on in this town. It's a very quiet, very comfortable and very lonely life in Brussels. There simply has to be more than this. Make no mistake, this is not a tale about some kind of Great Adventurer or Crazy Traveler.
Just a brain dead dodo in a golden cage. I need to get out before I'm too numb to even care.

When I'm not blinded by fear,
I feel pretty awesome about leaving...

Green Light

The darkest hour is right before the dawn...

After way too many sleepless nights, the papers came through, at last. Human Resources approved my sabbatical. (Boom!)

The hard part is over; the decision has been made. All I need is one final confirmation from the Government Office for Employment. At the day job, all documents are signed and approved. In 3 months time I'm free to go. Nothing holds me back. Preparation can finally start. The dream came true. I'm a happy man.

The long road ahead is all mine. (Yeah!) It's about time. No more compromises. I'll do as I please. I'll go where I want. Back to the East, of course. Same same but *seriously* different. Done with dope, done with troublesome love affairs. Intrepid traveling on my own terms, like a vagabond in the distance...

Far away from here,
far enough from Cambodia

Destination: India.

November's Never Easy

Striving to be awesome might never hurt; it does get old rather quickly.
Waiting is hard. Stuck in an endless loop of work and TV. Too much beer and too much weed. Disgusted with my own foolish tendencies. But hey, I don't owe anything to anyone. I'm my own dog now. I can do whatever I want. Sadly, what I want doesn't go beyond drinks, smokes and 46 episodes of Breaking Bad... Sit and smoke. Sit and drink. Sit and watch TV. Until it's time to go to bed. Wake up. Go to work. Repeat.

Autumn's a bitch.
November's never easy.
Simple facts of life.

Last week I almost went to a Halloween party. Almost. I didn't make it in the end. Driving there, meeting new people, getting drunk, driving home... Fuck it. This world's too complicated and confusing. I rather stay home and roll another joint instead.

Weeks crawl by, leaves are falling down. It's the darkest month of the year in grey, old Brussels. I'm not doing anything. Just waiting and staring at the Buddha on the wall. That bastard always looks like he knows it all. Mocking my confusion and weakness with his goddamn blissful smile.

Sometimes I don't even know anymore what is that I want. At least, here it's safe and cosy and warm. Leaving seems crazy. I'm scared, ill-prepared and seriously under-funded. Maybe I'll just hide under a warm blanket and let this whole damn season pass me by.

Wake me up in Spring.