Finding my way home

I don't think I've ever taken a vacation like this before: with time to think, to pause, to observe, to just be. In the few days that have passed so far -- we have more than half of our vacation still to look forward to -- I have thought a lot about why this is.

It's not that I don't travel. I have traveled more than I want to recall, but always for work or to see friends or family. Rarely truly to just be, and then never more than a couple of days. 

This feels like a new era for me. I am letting myself be a tourist, even in places that feel familiar. And I do like things to feel familiar. But more than anything, I have a need to fit in, and to be seen to fit in. This is not possible here. I can feel myself wanting to demonstrate that I know this place: I am not a total novice, I have seen these beaches and animals and vegetation before.

But, first of all, I really haven't. And secondly, why is this even important? 

This is the question I am sitting with. The answer is partially about a deep-seated need to nest, and partially about not feeling I truly deserve this rest, this novelty, this space to breathe.

And so I sit.