Slaying The Travel Bug

My last trip to Venice ended just over a month ago and I am almost at the point of selling my soul to a mundane 9-5 day job with a guaranteed income, just so I can go travelling. This of course makes no sense in my plan for circumnavigating the globe, but it’s that or the winning lottery ticket and I’m not known for my winning streak. I may have ticked off some of my travel destinations over the years, but the world is a big place and my hit list never seems to get any smaller.

It all ground to a halt in 2008 when I put plans into motion to start my own business, kissed goodbye to my well paid job and took a leap of faith. In the last 10 years I’ve only managed to go abroad a handful of times. Trips back home to Kent at least get me into the Metrop once in a while but the joke is starting to wear thin now.

I have an insatiable travel bug in my DNA (I know where that comes from), but work has been piling up whilst I’ve been galivanting these past six months whilst I completed the revision of my book. I’ve been avoiding my other responsibilities and I’ve had to put a firm travel ban in place for the rest of the year in order to catch up. After three weeks I was going stir crazy. Manchester seems remarkably uninviting right now.

My work puts me firmly in the ‘flexible to do whatever I like’ category and I have no other responsibilities holding me in the UK as such. By comparison I know that this makes me luckier than most but it doesn’t allow me the funds to do it as often as I would like. I have a plan but I’m waiting on outcomes for how this may or may not pan out next year. In case it doesn’t I have the B and C plans too.

Even so 2018 is potentially full of interesting possibilities and I’m not prepared to side step any opportunities that come up. The fact is, I’m not very good at real life. I don’t do responsibility, I don’t do routine, I like to be impulsive and go with my gut instinct. I’ve managed to tailor my life to suit my personality as much as possible but I am greedy of course, as all travellers are. It’s never enough. La vita è breve. Don’t waste it. You won’t get another chance.

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The History In Your Own DNA

I have never classed myself as a racist but I’ve always had a bit of a gloss on matters international for the simple reason that you can’t take the weight of the world on your shoulders. If you did, your life would be miserable and if I’m honest I’ve been much happier in my personal life since I stopped watching tv and turned off the news – the jumble of modern wants destroys the meaning of life and I needed to get away from that.

But as my family tree extended further and further I began to see everything in a different light. There is no such thing as a purely ‘English person’ being truly English. We all have ancestors from around the world. Pure white British is a myth. It doesn’t matter how many generations you go back, at some point, somewhere out there your DNA came from somewhere else.

In the early days we always thought our family were of Spanish origin because of the Oliver surname. There seemed to be some, as it turned out misinformed, evidence we could be traced back to Scotland where many Spanish people landed in centuries past. On holiday Spanish locals would come up to me and start talking in Spanish assuming I was one of them. But this was terribly flawed research in the days before the internet. And as I investigated our tree it turned out Oliver wasn’t even our surname and we hailed from Dublin and who knows from where before that, I’m stuck in the 1740s at the moment.

On the other side we are Italian, VERY VERY Italian. It may be five generations past but because of how connected I have become to that part of our history and to the country now, I know there’s a lot of Italian DNA firmly rooted in me. More than that, it’s Venexiane DNA which is like getting a gold medal in my book because I’m not sure anything in Italy is more special than Venice.

I have always been fascinated by other cultures, accents, ways of life, the world is a melting pot of amazing stories of survival and suffering and success and colourful lives and dreams and challenges. And to deny that in your own genetic makeup is the ultimate folly. It can also explain a lot about who you are. Untangling my DNA has explained why I am who I am, how the DNA leap that didn’t seem to be as evident in the rest of my immediate family, came out in me all singing, all dancing and threw spanners into my life at every turn. I was at the mercy of my heritage without even realising it.

The other day Ruby Wax’s episode of Who Do You Think You Are aired. It was a particularly noteable episode. I’m never entirely sure that celebs really connect with what they are discovering but Ruby certainly did. What she discovered explained a lot about her world, her family, her own self. Had she known about her family’s past years ago I think she may have had a different coping strategy for everything that she’s had to deal with. One line that resounded with me was ‘Instead of doing therapy, I should have been doing my family tree’. And she is absolutely right.

So What Happens Now…

After almost a year, this Sunday just gone in fact, I completed the last proof of the revision of my book ‘A Most Faithful Attendant’. It then languished for a few days before going to my layout editor and then to print. Sunday night I sat back and watched a film. I relaxed. I thought I’d earned it. By Tuesday I didn’t know what to do with myself.

I began to realise what a mammoth project this had been. Don’t get me wrong I have lots of other things to do now that it’s been put to bed, but as is the case with any big project, you need some down time afterwards to take your brain out of its current mode and back into whatever it was doing before the book took over your life.

I don’t have much time to adjust. Once I’ve dealt with the layout and worked with the printers for the final copy there are sales to make and publicity to do and emails to send out and complimentary copies to post. I suppose that this is when the real work begins, the aim for the hard cash, the bit where you realise whether it was worth the effort or not. Except of course it was, whatever the outcome because this is much more than a book.

Finally saying goodbye, in part, to that aspect of your life has been so consuming, and in my case at the same time so personal, is actually traumatic. It’s like losing a partner unwillingly. Suddenly everything you worked so hard for, everything that dictated your every waking moment, has suddenly stopped.

I want to enjoy those few weeks before sales begin, but I just feel lost and it’s very strange. I have inhabited a world from another century for the past year, I’ve thrilled at every new find, and the chance to go to noteable archives and historical buildings and of course to Venice to where it all began. I found a sense of belonging every time I opened the file.

This became my world and now it’s like the dawning of a new year and everything is supposed to be different. The last time I felt like this was when I finished University. After 3 years it was suddenly over. I had plenty to do, but the structure had changed, the people, the surroundings, the motivations, the safety net. It’s inevitable that you won’t slip from one environment to the next without some minor teething problems. And of course it isn’t arrivederci. I will be back soon. But only time will tell if I can ever really let go of this project, or if it will ever let me move on. I don’t mind if it doesn’t, it’s not the kind of thing you can just walk away from.