Being uncomfortable yet comfortable

Once, I had this tiring trip from Pare to Bali by car with bunch of friends that I met on this trip. It took almost 8 hours I guess, inside the car with 4 people in not so big chair. It was enough. Too enough, we couldn't move freely, scared that other people would feel more uncomfortable than we already were. I remember the uncomfortable almost unbearable at some point we thought that we wouldn't make it to Bali (we even thought that we were going to be sold to some bad people outside the country, yeah it was that scary).

Maybe at that time I put this calm face, trying so hard to keep my temperament under control because I was with stranger and no I couldn't explode and trying not to whine cause it would make me remember how hard it was, and one of my friend asked me, "You look so comfortable with this. Are you use to it?"

I blinked. A couple times. Being a person who always response with the first word that come to her mind, I laughed a little and answered, "Yeah, I guess. I always going for my parents's hometown every year for Eid." And the silence came, for him trying to hold his impatient by sleeping in such uncomfortable pose. For me, I was thinking a lot. The fact is, yeah I guess I didn't get as uncomfortable as he was. As he might be regretting the decision joining the trip, I might be secretly enjoying the uncomfortable that I got.

We finally made it to Bali, though.
Taken by Teh Aulia edited by me

The realisation made me think a lot until today. I don't know if I can categorize my self as a traveler, but well, I do love travel. But not in the level like everyone seems to talk about. My family love to travel to be exact. Every year, or in every chance we got, we have this family trip for holiday. Beaches are our favourite. Sometimes we make it like weekend getaway. Mostly it's because my mother loves adventure but she's home most of the time, so my dad always take her (and us, my sister and I) to other places that far away from our home but reachable by car since my dad is the one who drives.

And I loove those trip. A lot. But does it count?

I guess I just love being on the road. For being constantly moving and seeing fast changing scenery from the window. The feeling of being dynamic. I love my effort for trying hard to endure the pain by reminding the prize that waiting in the end of the road, the destination.

Sometimes in my boring routines, I turn my head to the window, hoping it were moving and I were in the car, listening my dad's kind of music (difficult jazz and old songs), being uncomfortable yet comfortable in the same time. Well, I will have those in less from 24 hours! Excited, excited. Weird, huh? :)

Let's meet in the long boring journey one day ;)

Nadhila

Currently unwilling to pack her things because of the laziness,

despite how cute her pink suitcase is.