Regarding sharks in motion.

"I put my money where my mouth was
Until I couldn't breathe through my nose.
And now I'm staring at the floor,
Where my second life just ended,
Where I lost not one but two friends." - Taking Back Sunday

"Everything beautiful comes from pain." - Chuck Palahniuk


The irony is that Halloween is my favorite holiday.


Dear j.a.c.c.k.,

How are things back home?

I wasn't sure until this week whether or not I was doing this all wrong. You see, most of the other backpackers I've met so far, they've given me skeptical looks when I've told them how many countries I've been to on this trip. That with an itinerary at that break-neck of a pace, I couldn't truly be appreciating where I was. That by trying to be everywhere, I was really nowhere. And yeah, there are places I wish I could have stayed longer, sparks of friendship that I wish I could have explored more to see what sort of fire it would grow in to. I'm not one for second-guessing myself, which is strange considering how I have a tendency to jump first, look down second. So when I do, that means it's something that's truly tearing me up. Remember that really brief conversation we had when you were helping me pack up my apartment?

Joshua: "Am I making the right dec-"
j.a.c.c.K.: "Yes. ...Yes."

It took me twenty seconds just to build myself up to ask the question, and you wouldn't even let me finish it. The confidence of your response carried me. When I needed you most, you were there, even if it meant choking back your own emotions at watching me leave. And when we refused to say goodbye, instead saying a casual See you later to keep our emotions from flowing over. To an observer that might sound like denial. But really it was an unspoken promise. That this separation between us wasn't going to be as drastic as it appeared.

Sorry, I got sidetracked there, I'm bad at writing letters from the road. The thing about whether or not I should have been spending a few weeks as opposed to a few days in each country..... Well, I'm in Istanbul right now, had to spend a full week here waiting for my camera to get fixed. It was so frustrating not having the camera, I realized how dependent upon it that I've grown. It's not just a way for me to relate back to you what I'm seeing, it's more of an outlet for my creativity, and taking pictures almost feels like a voluntary occupation that infuses my hours, days, weeks, months, with a richer meaning. So my first four days here, I didn't have a camera, which means I postponed all the sightseeing options, and couldn't do much of anything, and something I didn't want to happen happened. Reality caught up with me.

By switching cities or countries every three or so days, I've been so distracted/enthralled/overwhelmed by everything new to take in, that I haven't worried about my dwindling bank account, the friends who have repeatedly let my facebook messages go unanswered, the economy/housing/job market that I'll be returning to and attempting to conquer in New York. But when those distractions went absent, those realities took over. They didn't creep in, they flew, and with devastating impact.

And that's when I remembered, j.a.C.c.k., that's when I remembered something that I think we learned back in Mr. Sanga's biology class back in sophomore year at Providence. The thing about sharks in motion. That sharks, except for the scavenging bottom-feeders, they have to always keep moving. That the second they stop, they begin to sink.

It wasn't just those looming concerns that caught up with me, it was my health too. I have stomach parasites again, and these are crippling, way worse than the ones I got in Russia. It hurts to stand, let alone walk, and I've doubled over from them more times than I can count. On top of that, and all the symptoms those entail, I also have a terrible cold (I'm hoping it's just a cold), probably because it's been pouring down rain in Istanbul for a week straight. So because of these I feel nauseated all day, and can only eat a few bites of something twice a day at most, and I can feel the weight-loss creeping in. But like a mantra, I've told myself "Remember Naples, remember Naples, remember Naples, remember...."* and that's gotten me through. These sound like complaints, or cries for sympathy, but they're not. I've been trying to relate to everyone else my experiences, and right now I'm just relating to you the lesser-known realities of life on the road. The side-effects they don't advertise. The loneliness of the long-distance runner.

On the night before I left, I told someone else that while I knew that I was doing the right thing, I really underestimated the negatives. I couldn't really gauge the difficulty of saying goodbye until the words were out of my mouth. Until the car doors were shut, and Justin and I were on the 134 East headed for Moab. I know I quoted Conor Oberst back then, and now a different line of his comes to mind. "I haven't been gone very long, but it feels like a lifetime." God it feels like forever ago, j.A.c.c.k., it feels like forever ago that we drove around Hollywood at magic hour with our cameras, photographing murals and neon marquees. It feels like so long because so much has happened, so much has changed. I still feel like I underestimated the negatives, even more so now actually.

I haven't heard the voice of anyone from back home in months. This is because Skype doesn't work on my laptop, and my phone inexplicably doesn't work overseas. For a while there I still carried it around as an extremely-underachieving watch. But then I realized that was silly. With the exception of a train/plane every once in a while, I never have to be anywhere at a certain time. It's weird to live a life in which you can leave time behind you. That with the exception of growing older a day at a time, it doesn't really apply to you anymore. I'm so far removed from this basic human concept that it took me until a few days ago to realize that it was October. I mean clearly I knew that it was October, but I forgot that it was October.... This is my favorite time of year, j.a.c.C.k. When the leaves change color and even in California the sky is grey, the wind howling, and I would hole up inside and watch the horror movies that we both love. I forgot that I was missing this. But sitting around now in Istanbul, it came back, and I was struck by an amalgam equal parts nostalgic and homesick.

So you need to know that you've helped me so much, J.a.c.c.k., maybe without even knowing it. Your emails make me feel like I'm still connected, still missed, and even if you're only reporting anecdotes of sitting on your couch sipping warm cocktails made with Ralph's brand soda, they mean the world to me.

I have at most a month and a half left on this journey... this is something of a two-thirds marker. Literally one hundred days of solitude. I'm not looking forward to this trip ending, but I will be inexpressibly grateful to see you again.

I feel like I've learned something in every city I've been to. And while it has nothing to do with the city itself, other than it was the setting for the perfect storm of the downsides of my travels, I will always remember that it was in Istanbul that I learned that sometimes "road" is a four-letter word as well.

I miss you, J.A.C.C.K.. And I love you.

Joshua



*if you don't understand this, please see my earlier post "Primi piatti: un chien napolitano"