I'm off on holiday next week. Greece has the privilege of our visit, and I'm pretty excited. I am going abroad!, which is a major feat in itself. B is pretty happy too: he likes the Dutch coastline, but after a year of Dutch coastline - it gets a little stale. He tried going on holiday with a male friend last year, which wasn't a great success either: the friend in question was not fond of fish, while B likes his fish on holiday. In fact, the fish makes the holiday, so it was altogether unfortunate. This year he can have as much fish as he likes, no objections whatsoever on my part . (-I did Italian mama style fried sardines last week, oh so good!)

It was an interesting week- the last week of the mindfulness course. Everyone in the group brought along an object, music or symbol that for them represented the course. I was deeply moved - far more than I'd expected by people's contributions. -One participant brought Mozart's 23rd piano concerto - the adagio, and teared up while listening to it. And so did I. (Now even more than in my healthy state, music can move me to tears in an instant.) -Even though you don't personally know the people in the course, you get an idea of who someone is & there is a group 'identity' too. Moreover these were all people either in a difficult phase of their life, or just having pulled through such a phase. Many a tear had been shred, and the group compassion -not pity, mind you- had been heartwarming. Or no, that's the wrong word, it wasn't heartwarming in a cuddly sense, rather a deep respect for every single person in the group, and whatever it was they were dealing with.

I made pre-holiday predictions for my recovery, and I'm not sure whether to feel sad or happy. Basically, I am doing very well mentally, that is, taking into account the situation. But physically, not great. There is progress, there's no doubt about it, but it's so slow. So awfully slow. The predictions say I will be pretty happy again in the next couple of months (a 7 by October), but it will be March 2009 for me to score an average of 6 physically, and December 2009 to score a 7. That's depressing. On the other hand, sometimes I doubt whether I will ever feel reasonably OK again, and these stats do tell me that "there is progress". "you will not be stuck in this for the rest of your life".

A girl I met through the the mindfulness course took a similar amount of time to recover from burnout, say 2,5 years to start feeling relatively normal again. And even now, 4 years later, she still has to be careful, very careful about her activity level. But she tells me: "you will get through this". "If I got through it, you will too."

So maybe 'normal' life will re-start at 31, 32, or at 33. In whatever case I'll just make the best of it every day in the meantime.

The friend I met yesterday was one from the tribe of international academics. We were discussing how Florence is slowly emptying out - not in a literal sense -  but in the sense that we hardly have any friends and colleagues there anymore. A couple yes, but they too are likely to leave in the not so distant future. This is a bit of a disturbing reality, for me it's maybe even stranger because I am officially still in the middle of the programme, but in real life - not so sure. I have moved away, but not yet moving on.

She said: "remember so and so? He is moving back to xxx too. I talked to him and he says he wants to buy a house." She rolled her eyes. (Wanting to buy a house is most likely the beginning of the end your life ). "He probably wants to settle and find a wife too." More eye-rolling. She went on about her family, how most of them never left their home village. "Well, my parents did OK - they made it to xxx, which is at least not where they were born. But I am weird (-in being a single woman moving around internationally for badly paid jobs -I presume). And that's ok". She laughed.

I can relate. Not that I wouldn't like a house to call my own, although buying is so far removed from reality - no -shakes head-. But what I mean to say: this type of lifestyle becomes part of you: many of the "normal" securities are sacrificed for it. I know what it feels like.

The ups are the freedom, the independence, the experiences, the not getting bogged down by routines or daily life. The downs are the long distance relationships, the loneliness, the not knowing where you will be next, the crappy pay and bad working conditions.
And of course the highs of meeting people across borders, and the lows because it's not always easy to find out who is a friend: there are often letdowns. It's a bit of a restless life, even if you're staying a couple of years

For mundane but important things like social security and other administrative tasks it is a nightmare. When I went for my disability benefits they plainly told me 1. I was not entitled to any because I don't have a regular contract - despite the exact same work I do as people who DO have a contract (and pension entitlements and normal pay and holiday money etc. etc.)- and 2. that I may be deported from the country because I would be considered an 'alien abusing the social security system'. Pardon me ).

I have been having not-so-great dreams about my clothes and belongings being scattered all over the place and not being able to collect them all, trying to stuff everything into a large suitcase I am trailing around with me. Finding my clothes for sale in secondhand shops .

Indeed, even now, all my belongings I have in the -temporary- house in I live easily fit into 7 or so boxes. The rest is in storage - some of it has been in storage for 5 years! A friend once commented that I have a 'monk' lifestyle. There will come a time for a place of my own I am sure (I hope!!). But buying a house?. Buying a house lives in another galaxy .

PS She also commented on Florence: "When you're allowed to leave, it actually becomes quite a nice place". Yeah. I know.