Today I biked along the beaches of Alabama and Mississippi. Covered in sweat, carrying melted cheese in my bags, and fighting a steep incline on an excessively long bridge, I look around and see people sitting on chairs by the beach, sleeping, tanning, reading, or just walking around. I pass by cafes, small bakeries with pink cursive writing on the door advertising sweet treats, big hotels, nature walks, and I get envious.
I want to stay here, and learn the places. I want to talk to more people, to go into these big casinos around me here in Biloxi, and to watch a movie. I want to spend a day going around, asking everyone what they do, and when I'm bored of that, I'll lie down at the beach.
It sounds so enticing. I'd like to take a day off here, maybe two. Maybe spend the rest of my money on sitting here and looking at the waves.
And therein comes the kick - I know that I can do that, and I know that I might even enjoy it. But there will always be that itch to continue, no matter where I stop. That's why I continue, because the Assaf from the future who stayed is telling me that it's just not worth it.
I can come be lazy in Florida when I'm retired. Today I'm biking.
Though I really do miss not having to always worry about where my stuff is.
There is, however, the looming dread of homesickness. I haven't got bit by it yet, but I know that at some point, I'll be start missing things. My own bed is the first thing I'll miss, followed by my kitchen, or any kitchen for that matter. I already miss food that has vegetables in it.
I miss the routine. I miss knowing what I will be doing, and when. The thing I'll be missing the most is the ability to tell someone: "ah yes, I love Banjara too, let's go next Thursday." Or to tell someone: "I'll see you later," and actually see them later.
I've felt homesickness before. I've felt it multiple times, in places very far away from home. Every time, I tell myself I miss home, and that going back would make it better. But I've come back home, and it didn't make it better. Everyone's carrying on without you. Things move, buildings change, stores close, people are born, people die. I realize that I was not necessary for the continuation of existence at home. I realize that everything goes on without me just fine. I realize that I served no purpose here. But that means I serve no purpose anywhere. I'm useless, and have no home.
That's how I realized that homesickness is not just missing a place, but it's missing a time and a place. It's missing a feeling, a smell, or a piece of weather. I'd like to start thinking of homesickness as a kind of nostalgia. When you're finished high school, on graduation day, not a single graduand thinks: "man, I wish I was back in grade 9." It takes time, and it's slow. The transition is fast, but it takes a while for the nostalgia to build up.
It's the same thing with homesickness. At first, nothing is wrong. You take pictures of everything, tell your friends back home about the whacky customs, the amazing conveniences that should be universal, or the strange people you meet. But soon it wears off. It's now routine. In Israel, I got used to the weekly shutdowns of everything for Shabbat, and right now, it's routine to bike 100km every day.
So if I'm homesick right now. What can I do about it? Nothing. Nothing helps, and nothing can make it go away. Only time can make it better. It's a battle of attrition within the self. I can give up, end everything now, knowing that I've done my best, but that it was not good enough for the standard I set myself. The alternative is to just carry on, one day at a time, and to wait until you start enjoying being away from home.
I guess I've stopped talking about biking a while ago...
Part of this ride is to experience True Americana. The things that the US is stereotypical for. Today I ate at Waffle House again. I got to see big rich casinos, angry suburban traffic, and beach vacation spots. Yesterday, I saw the oil rigs. I haven't been writing about this, but it goes without saying that I've seen plenty of Trump stickers, loads of confederate flags, and even some guy who had a "build the wall" mini-display
But today, I experienced a special piece of Americana. Someone shot a cop near my campground, and they were on the loose. Police helicopters everywhere, cops all over the place, and people saying to go inside in case the shooter comes around here. My first shooting! How exciting!
Most of my pictures today didn't come out so good, so I'm only putting in the few that came out well.