I landed in Heathrow at 5.30 pm last Friday, the day I've honestly been looking forward to since my first day in South America. I wouldn't say I regretted the trip or that I had only bad times; in fact I met some amazing people and learned a lot - but except Buenos Aires, I did not LOVE any of the places I visited. Everything was just kind of ok and all the time I felt I would have had a much better time had I decided to go to India instead or just back... home.

Which is, broadly speaking, anywhere in Western Europe. I have two basic ideas in mind what to do with my life the next months (no worries, I'm not getting married and moving into a countryside house), and both of them are equally interesting and relatively easy do to. But since I came back, I don't think I'm experiencing a post-travel depression - no reverse culture shock or feeling of being overwhelmed, and I have a job I spend at least 4 hrs a day on. Yet, I've been feeling a bit weird (having a cold doesn't help much) and I've been kind of hiding in my friend's house, postponing life, trying not to make any kind of decision. What I really feel like doing is sitting in a quiet place, working, writing and cooking. I guess I'll postpone even more by flying to Germany next week and spending some weeks catching up with people there and in the Netherlands. There's an invitation to Stockholm, too (it's good to be back in a part of the world that has cheap flights. Sorry, ecological footprint, but I think after spending about 12,000 miles on buses, I deserve this).

Right now, it seems like everything is possible and everything is easy, and that's why I don't really know which to choose. Because the one thing I've never done before is made my life choices easy. Maybe it's time.

Or maybe I'll book that flight to India.

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