I've been in Belfast for a month now, and it's been good to me. It's a wonderful city, not too big, not too small, the people are always friendly and seem happy despite the permanent rain and the fact that it's almost July but you can't leave the house without a coat. I've easily gotten in touch with new people here, and the cultural offerings are fantastic. I spent years in London with hundreds of theatres and only went maybe one a month, but in Belfast, although there are maybe a dozen venues, I just want to see everything. And can, because it's affordable and there's always time.

So far, I'm enjoying a slow, relaxing period without having to do very much, and am working on a couple of projects. Right now, even taking a bus to another part of Northern Ireland or the Republic of Ireland seems too much effort.

Right now, there's a part in me that thinks 'I can settle here; it's got everything I need, it's affordable and friendly. If I save up a little, I can even buy an apartment. It's easy.'

And then, something deep inside me screams 'It's too easy. There's no challenge, no fight, no being thrown outside your comfort zone. Leave!'. I've never done 'easy' - this is the first time since I was in kindergarten that something was this simple and comfy.

So, this week, I booked two trips for September, one to Hungary with a side trip to Sarajevo, a city I, like all kids of the 80s, associate with one thing: WAR, something which I feel I need to change. And a week later, another trip, to Latvia, Estonia and Finland. My family stems from the Baltics,  from Kaliningrad, a city that today is a Russian enclave which means it's hard to get there, hard to get a visa, and nearly impossible to travel on a budget. I suppose this is the next best thing.

Yet, secretly my travel plans for India are taking over my subconscience... but right now, I need easy. Until easy becomes too hard.

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