On The Fringe.

Today I met Alexander Supertramp.

I drank Argentinian wine with a Belgian girl and her partner, met an almost 70 year old English traveller from London; seperated from his wife and career and spending his next years on experience and emotion, on a motorbike and a pension, and I spoke with a 24 year old man who reminded me so much of the film Into The Wild. After four weeks of camping I am glad to be back in a hostel. And I am going to stop calling this an adventure.

This is not how it was when the explorers first came and hacked through the desert, it is not how it was when Polynesians went to Hawaii on little wooden boats, it isn’t the same as when people saw the potential for more, they followed an idea across the globe when there were still things to discover. A lot of what was said was of course wine-induced rambling between backpackers, but it was good to share experiences and assure and be assured that this is worth all the trouble; all the rollercoaster days and constant realignment, questioning of capability. We are safely on the fringe, without money or routine but within the confinements of a pre-discovered, somewhat accommodating land. As the Argentian said, if you want adventure, go to China.

We are on the edge, but we have eachother and the given knowledge to keep going. The last week or two have been tough, but tonight has reminded me that there is the posibility to keep moving forward, and I have nothing left but I am still not quite ready to go home.


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