Well not really, but moving to Mexico isn’t going to be easy.
It’s not moving to a new place that’s the problem, on the contrary, I couldn’t be more excited to step off that plane into the Mexican sun, no place to stay, with my entire life stuffed into a bag on my back. It’s what I am putting in that bag that is the problem.
Now backpacking around is easy, I did most of my South American travels with a collection of tees, shorts and boxers stuffed haphazardly into a cloth pack I bought in La Mercada Bruja in La Paz, Bolivia. But moving to a place for an indefinite amount of time requires I put a little more thought into it than just chucking some tanks and flip flops into a bag.
I experienced lugging a backpack and suitcase from Toronto to Santiago, and had to suffer the heartbreak of leaving my snowboard behind in Chile after having my friend bring it down for me. This time around I’m aiming to keep it simply to my MEC pack, carry-on backpack and of course my beloved ukulele.
I have come to terms with the fact that everything I bring to Mexico with me will be the extent of my worldly possessions, everything else is up for grabs, and honestly, I am excited to be able to say that literally my entire life is strapped to my back. I have already begun to ration off my things to friends and family, everything from my beloved beanbag, my futon that was my spine’s worst enemy for months, my TV, hell I have even donated my XBOX 360 to the parents so they can enjoy House of Cards on my Netflix.
What I am not willing to hawk off to the world, and what I am having the hardest time deciding what to bring, is my burgeoning collection of books.
These suckers are a big part of my life, among their pages are the words of some great men and women, their black ink creates worlds for escape and inspiration, and they help me hone my skills as an aspiring writer. If I could I would bring them all with me, my dream of a man cave is comprised of walls lined with literature, a comfy chair and a light, and saying goodbye isn’t going to be easy.
I find inspiration in life, but these books are my professors, I think my favourite author Mr. William Faulkner said it best:
Read, read, read. Read everything – trash, classics, good and bad, and see how they do it. Just like a carpenter who works as an apprentice and studies the master. Read! You’ll absorb it. Then write, if it’s good, you’ll find out. If it’s not, throw it out the window.
So Willy, I will keep reading, and I will keep writing, and with the news that my immigration papers to Mexico won’t be ready until March 25th, I will debate what books are travelling down south with me.