An awkward thing to say to dead people on a melting day. And cake.

“What an awkward thing to say”, my witch giggles into the fog as tears run down my face.

The fog is not with us, of course. It is just a few meters away, but dense enough to hide the horizon. Or, the end of the colourful street we’re sitting by in the freezing cold.
“As awkward as this?”, I try to defuse the tension by pointing at the name of the cake in front of me. The Swedish name is Semla, the German word (which I never knew existed until now) is Heiswecke, although the recipe slightly differs in each region. But since I am in Finland, there is another confusing and long word for these, which I sadly have not ready as I’m typing this. Shame on me.

But this post is about an awkward thing. And awkward thing I told my witch, because what else are witches for? I have her with me for whenever my thoughts spiral out of control, which happens more often.

Especially when I am so far from home.

Now, this might be a stereotype, and some readers of my blog might roll their eyes. Maybe you are annoyed by the wealthy, well-educated young adults going “backpacking through Europe”, or (a thing more common in Europe), doing work and travel in Australia. Their stories about finding themselves can easily sound like an advertisement for another yoga-class you didn’t ask for … and I am still going to say the thing I am thinking about.

But back to traveling.

When I last worked far away from home, I went to Budapest, which still is one of my favourite places on earth. And while being 1000km away from home, I had so many realizations about myself. I wrote about them in this post! Experiencing myself far away from all I had ever known made me change things about myself, and I deeply needed these changes back then!

This one goes out to the other, German side of my family. That grandmother loved these kind of department stores. They were the first thing she had seen in Hamburg, when she came there as a little girl. I remember afternoons spent there with her and my mother when I was little, ending with having a meal at the restaurant usually attached to this. We never bought anything. We just came there and looked around altogether.

I do not have a relationship to that grandmother. I never really got to know her. And I think that is true to many people from my past. I was always the weird one, not getting close to anyone.

So when I am out in the wild, in a strange place in a strange country, I sometimes catch myself saying: “I miss you.”
“What an awkward thing to say to a dead person”, my witch giggles.
“I miss you, but I never knew you.”

I am not sure what to do with this realization yet. It’s a thing I cannot easily change. Some things are just there and follow us around.

The thing I love about travelling, especially on my own, is the space to realize these things. The loss of routine, the unstructured thoughts, and new endless new impressions let thoughts surface that were silent before. Or unheard within all the noise? Either way, I think it’s important to explore ourselves in this way.
Even if it hurts.

I wish these deep and silent thoughts of mine were sweet. I wish I was the kind of person that leaves the phone at home and sleeps in a tent next to a waterfall, and is at peace with themselves, but I am not. My deepest core is dark and extreme, and needs to be tamed.

“And loves dead people too much”, my witch reminds with a full mouth, since she stole my Semla. Guess I have to get a third one and hope we’ll survive that much.