The Full Circle

In the words of one of my blog readers, I have indeed come full circle.

Let us return to San Diego and I shall fill in the missing link.

My time in San Diego was a full body emmersion back into the civilised, cosmopolitan world. I also feel it was a time of convalescence physically and mentally after an extraordinary experience on board Farfalla, the 40ft Catamaran that took us all the way from the south-eastern West Indies through the Panama Canal, and on to Mexico, dear sweet Mexico, the place that welcomed me with a warm glow and a soft embrace. I needed it. My natural sleep rhythms were destroyed. For weeks after I abandoned ship, I was unable to sleep longer than 3 hours, and was afflicted with night terrors and sleep-walking episodes. My wardrobe was also destroyed, if you can call it a wardrobe. My bag was home to 3 pairs of irrevocably dirty shorts, a couple of faded t-shirts, several shapeless bikinis and salt-eroded flip flops.

Naturally the first thing I did upon my arrival in California was borrow some suitable apparel from my friend and go SHOPPING!
I was astonished at the high levels of customer service in the retail industry in San Diego. Seriously put the UK to shame, in fact. These staff were people who considered their shop jobs to be professional careers, as opposed to a sulky 'fill-in' job til they find something better. Nothing was too much trouble. Without exception their knowledge of the products was utterly comprehensive, and they expressed genuine enthusiasm in me, the sparkly-eyed customer; in fact I was more like a child in a candy shop!

I made the decision to go home, to England.

My primary reason was the new found appreciation for my family and my friends. After the terrifying night at sea when I thought that it was all over, all I could think of was my family. I prayed to see them again, and for the first time I realised that, in fact, home IS where the heart is. Travelling is a double-edged sword; for every good person I met, for every 'hello', there was always the threat of imminent parting, of one more heart-breaking 'goodbye'. I was weary of my transient existence. I wanted to go home.

With regard to the scuba diving. I have decided to put it on hold. Maybe even a permanent or long-term hold. In truth it was a lonely job. The hours were long and so physically tiring that I had no stamina left at the end of the day to do anything but fall into an exhausted sleep. I was not being paid to do it, due to the owner's debts and cash flow problems. (Although he said that I would be paid in the near future) There was something really soul-destroying about working so hard and seeing nothing in return. My body could not take the physical strain combined with the high temperatures, (no air-con)sweaty humidity, plagues of biting insects and dirty water supply. I went to the island a healthy, happy, girl, and when I left I was mentally and physically drained, had been ill several times, I was slightly depressed, and covered from head to foot in severe insect bites and tropical skin allergies.

I had hoped to find my dream job and true love too! I found neither in fact, and the first did not facilitate the latter with its unsociable hours and infrequent time off. I think that everything would have been very different if I had taken a similar position with a boyfriend in tow. I would not have had to deal with the unwanted sexual attention, and would not have felt the loneliness that consumed me, in the end.

No woman is an island.

So, the pilgrim has returned to y olde England. I have a great story to tell, and my entire focus for now is the writing project that will transform this blog into a single work. I'm delirious, estatic. I walked in a light rain yesterday and felt the cool drops dance on my skin, and the breeze whisper through my hair. The sky was grey. A beautiful tone of silverly grey, and the birds in the hedgerows sang to me. I smiled and walked onwards.

The end?

Or the beginning?