A Morning of Hesitation
At eight in the morning, I woke to soft light filtering through the curtains. Instead of rushing out of bed, I spent an hour editing videos and sorting my thoughts. The air outside seemed to whisper, “There’s no need to hurry just yet.”
Once I had packed my luggage onto the bicycle, my host called out, “Let’s have a chat before you go.” I sat down by the front door, listening quietly for an hour and a half as he shared stories and thoughts. Though I carried a faint feeling of heaviness afterward, his warm smile and “Take care” at the end reminded me of the kindness in our brief connections. In every country, the rhythm of conversation and the sense of personal distance shifts, and learning to adjust is part of the journey.
Struggling Against Steep Hills
No sooner had I set out toward Merimbula than a brutal slope appeared before me. My legs felt like lead, and my breath came in short bursts. At last, I reached the peak at 202 meters and allowed myself to rest for a moment.
But the descent offered no real relief. The gusts from passing trucks threatened to knock me off balance, forcing me to grip the brakes carefully and control my breathing. Though the distance was only twenty kilometers, I decided not to rush—better to take the time to notice the details of the road and the world around me.
Gentle Encounters Along the Road
Wildflowers grew by the roadside, and small animals darted through the grass. Birds sang from the trees above, their voices bright against the sound of my tires. I inhaled deeply as the salty wind of the coast began to fill the air. At last, I reached Merimbula, a seaside town where the atmosphere itself seemed to soften the edges of my fatigue.
By the water, I sat and opened my notebook, sketching out new ideas for my book. On the beach before me, more than a hundred seagulls gathered, their movements restless but calm in their own rhythm. A few fixed their eyes on me, and I felt a little tension as I walked through the flock, yet the moment felt alive and real.
The Final Climb to a Seaside Home
At five in the evening, I made my way to the host’s house. Waiting for me was perhaps the steepest climb of the journey so far. The home was on a hill overlooking the ocean, and I had to push the bike with both hands, step by step, gripping the handlebars tightly. At one point, I even lost my way, draining the last of my strength before finally reaching the top after thirty long minutes.
The view made the effort worthwhile: the wide expanse of sea stretched below, and the garden around the house was bright with flowers. That evening, I was welcomed with a warm meal full of vegetables. Later, sinking into a soft bed, I felt my back exhale with relief. The exhaustion of the day melted away, replaced with gratitude for comfort, kindness, and another day safely completed.
