A little update I wrote in France yesterday:
So I’m in Paris. I’ve been travelling for seven hours and now I’m getting ready for the 12-hour flight. I’ve never been outside Europe before, yet the thing I’m most curious about isn’t how Mauritius is going to be, but what a huge Mauritius Airlines airplane looks like. I don’t want to speculate too much in how my stay’s going to be – I’ll have to take it a day at a time anyway. As long as we don’t have rats or mice in my house I’m perfectly fine.
I’ve moved out of London as well. I’ve had my last night in halls, and I’ll miss the view of London Eye and the BT Tower. But leaving one thing behind means taking other things in. I think my mother is the one who’s freaking out the most about all of this. I feel like it’s all fine. I’m used to moving to new places – I don’t feel like I have a home in the normal sense of the word. I used to say that my home was wherever I was a gym membership. But now I think home is more like a state of mind. It’s somewhere you are, not physically but mentally, which I quite convenient when moving around a lot. I take my home with me everywhere I go, in the form of a tattoo on my left wrist. It says du er du – you are you – which is a good reminder if I were to forget.
I met a lady wearing a burka in the tax-free region. I wonder how she got through security.