All The Way Up

With the laughter and merriment of the wedding still ringing in my ears, and a joyful heart, I hop on a train back to Vienna, two months after my first visit. I didn't have plans to return so soon, but if this trip has shown me anything, it's that what I plan to do and what I actually end up doing, rarely follow the same path.
After the body painting competition, I was feeling rather...untethered. Like a helium balloon, released from the hands of a child, I was suddenly adrift in the wind, with no direction to my desires. I was texting my friend Lukas (you may remember him from my last Vienna post, or from Zrce Beach in Croatia), and admitted to him, "I'm not sure what I'm doing now. All I want is somewhere quiet to work on my book, which is nearly impossible in hostels. My next goal is just to find somewhere to hide for a while."
"Well...there's an apartment in Vienna you could hide in," he responded. "I work during the day and in the evening I need to focus on my thesis."
His offer took me by surprise, as it hadn't even crossed my mind, but sometimes life just falls into place. You just have to voice your needs.
And I smile, reminding myself that if you don't ask...the answer will always be no.
So to Vienna, I go!

"What happened?" he asks me.
"What do you mean?"
"You were talking so much about how you're accepting yourself. You were really confident. You're different now. You keep apologizing, and you seem uncomfortable. You're not like the person I met with in Croatia."
I'm silent.
"I'm sorry," he amends, "maybe that was too far, or digging too deep."
But that's not why I'm quiet. I'm quiet because he's right. I've converted back to the apologetic girl from Austin. The self-conscious one, who feels like an inconvenience or a burden. And I'm searching inside myself for what the fuck happened, because I haven't seen her for a few months and I would love those months to turn to years, and those years to decades, yet here she is.
And it finally clicks.
"I feel I'm relying on you, and I don't know where that leaves me. I don't like it. The first times we met, we were on equal footing. I was independent, and I knew if we didn't get on, it didn't matter. I was on my own, and I would be fine. Now I'm in your space. I'm living on your generosity, and I feel intrusive, and I feel unsure of myself."
He tells me it's something new for him too. Something different to get used to, but that he invited me, and I shouldn't feel intrusive.
And while this particular situation eases after this moment, it brings something much bigger to my attention. Four months I've been feeling increasingly stronger and more confident. I've been trying new things, and jumping at opportunities I may have hesitated at before. I've been very happy with myself for the work I've been doing. Four months...yet in a matter of a day and a half I converted to old habits. Small habits. Quieting myself. Trying to make myself tiny. To stay out of the way. To not annoy this person. When even he is telling me, "don't be small. Take up space." But it's a habit.
I'm realizing how easy it is to undo all that work if I'm not entirely focused on not losing it. It's all well and good to be confident in a new environment, but you place me back in one I'm familiar with, and all those habits come flooding back.
So the new goal is not to gain confidence, but to maintain that feeling of strength, no matter where I am. With whom. Or in what situation.
It's a tiny slap in the face, to see how quickly I fell back, if I'm honest.
But I'm glad for the hit, because now I know what to focus and work on.
So cheers to forever getting to know yourself, and let's get back to work!

While I do hole up for some time, it's more difficult than I imagined it would be. Summer time in a city as vibrant as Vienna is not the easiest time to hide inside. Plus, it turns out I have more friends here than I realized.
I meet with Annie, the cousin of the bride from my last post, one afternoon and we go swimming and ride our bikes to the center of town for Pop Fest.
We're waiting at the light right across the street from the venue, when suddenly the sky opens up. We're drenched in minutes. We laugh and huddle under the meager umbrellas of the food stands with some other soaked people.
Well...this is it, I think, Pop Fest will be cancelled for today.
The rain is relentless, and rivers are rushing down the streets.
But people in Austria are tough!
As soon as it let's up, the plaza fills rapidly, people pouring from unseen hiding spots, and the music pumps through the crowd.

Pop Fest happens in the plaza of a church, which makes me laugh.

By Saturday Lukas and I are both tired of being in the apartment and looking at computer screens. We head out of the city and into the mountains.
I can breath deeply again.
All I've wanted since first coming to Austria was to escape into the gorgeous mountains, and I finally did! We hiked over a thousand meters in elevation, sweating our asses off at the bottom, and needing to throw on jackets at the top. There were moments towards the end where I was sure my legs would stop supporting me, but I just kept reminding myself that this was great training for what's ahead of me. That if I could do 18 kilometers and 1,000+ meters and be alive at the end, then I can certainly do 20 kilometers a day on the Camino de Santiago, which doesn't change in elevation nearly as much.
Oh, yeah, by the way, that's my next stop. The Camino!
I'm so excited.
I've been in cities for too long at this point. They are certainly easier to navigate within than the countryside, but they don't feed my soul like the wilderness. I look forward to days and days on a trail.
Plus, I don't know...I've never been a pilgrim before. Sounds romantic.
And hard.
And rewarding.
Sounds like tears mixed with the laughter.
Like bloody feet and baptizing showers.
Like blisters and the sleep of the physically exhausted, yet mentally alive.
It sounds romantic, but I have no expectation.
All I know is, I've felt called by the Camino for over a month, and I kept pushing it out of my mind. Making excuses to myself as to why it'd be too much of a hassle, or why I couldn't do it...but that's stupid. Because when I think in terms like that, this whole trip sounds like one big hassle, and it's anything but. So last night I bought a ticket to Spain. Let's do this.

I'd like to take a quick moment to give a shout out to Lukas, who's kind, considerate, and generous nature has been apparent from the first day we met. Some people are just good. Their pure hearts are quickly revealed, and spending time with these people fills my heart with hope.
Thanks for being a good nut, Lukas.

With my ticket purchased, and a hard departure date set, I make a list of things to get done before I settle back in to write. I feel this time in Vienna is the break between chapters. Like something new is on the horizon. That this is the low tide before the next waves break.
Then again...I often feel this way. With each change in direction. Each chapter feels like a new life.
I'm learning to retain myself through all the character shifts.
Because man, it feels like I've been a lot of people in this play!
Farmer.
Gardener.
Au pair.
Backpacker.
Hostel employee.
Festival goer.
Model.
Dancer.
Performer.
Friend.
Lover.
Vagabond.
Wedding guest.
And next...Pilgrim.

"There are rules in German about how you address someone," Lukas tells me, while hiking. "You have formal and informal, and it depends on status. But here, on the mountain, there is an unspoken rule. Anywhere above 1,000 meters, it's just 'you', informal."
"Why?"
"Because on the mountain, we're all the same."

And I'll be damned if that's not the best metaphor for life I've ever heard.
I'm reminded to always stay humble...grateful...respectful...because on the mountain...we're all the same.
See you down the road, pilgrim.