the harsh yoke of reality

So I've gallivanted, I've holiday-bonanza-ed, I have worn of the jandal, sweltered in the heat, swum with the fishies, been on the boat and now my fling of carefree tomfoolery is at an end and it's time to knuckle down again. I got back from Egypt last Sunday and gave myself a week of token gesture exercise and eating what I want and having my room still be a bomb site (haven't quite entirely remedied that one yet...) but I have told myself that one week of post-holiday wallowing is enough and now it's back to reality. I started with a run this morning which went much easier than expected which leads me to believe that my body was, quite simply, in shock, and it is only tomorrow when I try to do the same thing that it will, with quiet indignation, refuse to cooperate. Or, because it's more my style, sabotage me in some subtle way.

Egypt (this latest jaunt was to Sharm, or more accurately Naama Bay) was great. It was 37degrees most of the time and the water was usually 28 but as long as I was on the boat and in the shade or in the water, the temperature wasn't so bad. Coming back to a muggy 26 in London actually feels almost as bad. Being by the water and on a boat (Hello, my name is Aynia and I'm addicted to boats) did its usual job of reaffirming my decision to head back down south. The decision feels right and I know it's what I want to do but as the time looms closer (and it is looming folks), I find that what I'm really going to miss is my people. If I could take my friends and associated social groups back with me, life would be perfect. The sad thing about leaving Egypt this time is that people would say, "See you next time!" and I'd be replying with a plaintive wail of distress, "No you won't! I'm moving to Australia!" I've been to Camel (the hotel/dive club I stayed at) three times now, it's where I learned to dive and in a way it feels like a home away from home. There are people there who I catch up with each time, people I look forward to seeing and I may only see them every 8 months or so but still, the thought of never seeing them again (or at least not for years and years and years- I would like to dive in Egypt again at some point) is very sad.

But I still don't regret my decision. In fact I was having one of those hypothetical, "If we won Lotto" discussions with my Mum at the weekend and I realised that even if I was suddenly filthy rich, I still wouldn't stay here any longer, I'd still be headed home for Christmas. I'd be back here for a long holiday in very short order, yes, but I'd still be headed to where the sun shines for longer and I can have quality Mum and Dad hugs on-tap. So I'm coming to grips with the conundrum of know-I-need-to-leave-in fact-I-WANT-to-leave vs want-to-take-my-possé-with-me.

For those who care about actual diving things, this trip was a reasonable success for me. I went in July as it's meant to be the season for 'big stuff' and I think I had a reasonable degree of success. We did countless jumps into the blue and swimming into the blue in search of schooling hammerheads but had to luck at all on that front. In fact by my last day I was starting to think that the reef shark I'd seen on my first day was nothing but a tease. And then I hit last-day-luck. Whilst kitting up for our last dive, a whale shark decided to come and visit so we promptly ditched the tanks, slapped on snorkel gear and jumped in. You've never seen people kit up so quickly... I was told that it was only a baby, about 2.5m long but it was my first and, as far as I'm concerned, pretty amazing. (Except of course now I was to see bigger ones and closer up.) And then on the last dive we went in search of sharks and found 2 of them, white tipped reef sharks (again) but still bloody awesome. They were a fair way off, at the drop-off of one of the reefs but still, I saw them, they were cool and it was the perfect way to finish a dive trip.

But now my holiday bonanza is over and done with and I shall pretty much being staying put in London until it's time to head south. With three holidays in such quick succession, my room slightly resembles a bomb site. There have been many things that there seemed no point in packing away because I'd just be pulling them out again in a week or so. But not now. Oh no. Now is the time to pack away the sunscreen, insect repellent, ratty straw cowboy-styled sunhat, miscellaneous toiletries and holiday paraphernalia. I have to remember all my gym kit, put away the tent and diving kit and get on with life as it is. What's that? Shut up with my self-indulgent and mildly melodramatic whining? How rude! Totally justified but still, a girl's gotta be allowed to wallow for a while. So I guess this is where I remind myself that last week was my one allowed Week of Wallowing and Excessive Cheese Consumption. All that is now over and so here ends my little violin solo...