Last week I swapped the office in Paris for the beach in Spain and spent an amazing eight nights soaking up the sun and sights of the Balearic Islands; Mallorca and Ibiza.
Occuring at the best, or possible worst time, depending on your point of view, I soaked up the end of the summer sun on the beautiful Spanish islands of Mallorca and Ibiza.
Whilst life in Paris is a dream come true, not every day is a fairytale. I have days of uncertainty where I question if I’m really where I’m meant to be, if I’ve made the right decisions, and if I instead should be back in my home country enjoying the company of those most special to me. Last week was one of those weeks; everything was questioned, everything was confusing and everything I needed to make me happy was out of reach.
Hence why Spain came of the best, and yet the worse time.
Life is clever sometimes. When things seem to be too much and all you want is to go home, wear your favourite Peter Alexander pajamas, eat tiny teddies and cry into your Disney soft toys, it sweeps in and shows you how great things can be. Spain gave me a new best friend, showed me one of the most beautiful beaches I’ve ever seen, sent four sleepy puppies for me to cuddle, revealed the best local beach-side tapas restaurent, beautiful local night art markets, encouraging fellow NZ travellers and picture perfect Old Towns.
The simple act of riding a bicycle around the Port, mastering the selfie-stick, figuring out the local bus (which of course runs on ‘island time’), and admiring tanned Spanish lifeguards, is a reminder that it’s often the small things that hold the most significance, create the deepest memories and provide the biggest distractions.
Spain gave me an escape but Paris provides clarity. A few days back in my favourite city and I instantly feel a sense of calm and certainty – for now, this is my place. Last night, the Eiffel Tower lit up fully in Pink. If that wasn’t enough of a sign that right now this place is for me, I don’t know what is.