It's been ten years since I first landed in Herford, NRW, Germany, actually eleven if you count the first visit I made in 2003 as part of an acquisition team looking over the company we eventually made a part of the big thing I used to work for. I started thinking about it a few weeks ago, when my landlord offered to sell me this apartment. I thought about the price, the possibilities, the responsibilities, the benefits and concerns and the whole internal conversation gave me a really bad case of wanderlust.
With the exception of my homestead in Mayfield, Pennsylvania, where I lived from birth to 18 and then on again/off again between marriages, university stints, and other transformations, ten years is the maximum I've stayed in any one place, state, job, or condition. The wheels are rolling, the gears are clacking, zeroes and ones are streaming in my unconscious, but there's a catch, I've grown fond of this place. It affords me solitude, it serves as a hub for my travels because of its central location in Central Europe, entertainment can easily be found, and it's pretty. It does lack a zen community, but there's always the internet.
Still, I'm an explorer. I'm not the kind that roams from coast to coast. I'm more of a microexplorer. I like to know all about where I am. There's still a lot to learn here, but Krakow has been pulling at me, and after my trip to Prague a few months ago and Poznan and Warszawa last year, the Slavic genes are saying 'take me home'. But, still, I'm content here. No dog, no wife, no worries, enough wood to carve for the next five years and an infinite supply of electrons to scribble with. But no canoe, something which can easily be remedied.
Am I talking my way into something, or out of it?
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