Pre-Trip Head Check

If I went away,
tropical island, somewhere sunny every day
and everyone I ever cared about remained,
would I tan or would I fade?

- the Cat Empire, in Two Shoes

I can be pretty certain the Daniel that returns from this year-long global wandering isn't going to be the same as the one that first climbed onto that plane. I spoke with my uncle last weekend about the trip and he was quite interested in how I would be affected psychologically. For quite a long period of time I'll be living without a stable sense of home and I'll be in a lot of situations where communication will be difficult.

And the loneliness. A friend, whose entire family's been under the influence of the travel bug at one point or another, spoke to this a few weeks back. Being away from your friends and family and meeting a new batch of strangers every other week can be exhausting. But at the same time, it makes it easier to connect with other travelers who are going through the same thing.

When she talked about it I thought I saw a bit of pain at the memory, or perhaps a longing for that deep connection that can only be shared by people who are far from home. Whatever it was, that pang of emotion struck me and it will be long before I forget it.

The crazy side of the table.

With nearly three weeks to go before I leave, I can already see how the trip has changed me. One of the biggest differences is how important time with friends has become. It's a little silly since, in the scheme of things, a year isn't that long. I've known my closest friends for most of my life.

Still, it hasn't stopped me from taking almost every opportunity to go out for dinner or a drink, an improv show or even some late-night mario kart, just like the old days. (That excuse is wearing thin.) It's these moments that I'll miss and maybe I feel I can save some of them up in a jar for the journey ahead. While I'm away I can recall that time my inebriated friend confessed he'd tipped the pub's "bathroom guy" a twenty, or when we did so-called interpretive dancing to a Massive Attack album, and that night of Karaoke at this very very Japanese place that had a song list of 20,000 but only 600 in English—the corniest 600 at that.

Most of the time all these concerns are peripheral to the rush of work and day-to-day life but once in a while I'll have a quiet moment. Last night, watching them dance to an Irish band or now, writing this blog post. In these moments the trip can make me nervous but it doesn't take long before excitement takes over again.

Yeah, I'll miss Vancouver and everyone and everything it comes with. But it's only a year and I'm going to have a bloody good time.