Where I live right now, it doesn’t feel real. It feels like this city is mimicking what it thinks is “modern” but has no soul, or very little of it.
A friend mentioned taking a week off and being a tourist in their city, and then I got to thinking how my work bestie mentioned I need a break just yesterday.
Let’s say I take that break. There’s literally zero things in my city that would be considered touristy. No one comes here to be a tourist. Everyone comes here to be a modern office/corporate slave.
I kind of like being here because the sheer amount of convenience in so many things is unparalleled.
I can take a walk any time of the day (and even night) within the confines of my apartment complex. It’s green and it’s safe. Groceries come here within 15 minutes (handy sometimes). It’s not impossible to find a helper for the kitchen who can make you homely meals to your palette.
But then I’ve also been thinking about moving away. Maybe to my favourite city on the west coast. Maybe to a beach town somewhere. Maybe somewhere with a bit of soul.
I will no longer have a car of my own if I make a move like this one, because it’ll be inconvenient as hell to move it there (physically and legally), but maybe I can get a two-wheeler just so there is still a little bit of freedom, even if not absolute.
I will have to make friends again. Build a community. It will be exhausting.
And how many places in this country where I can stick to my native tongue? Not many of these beach towns or coastal cities, I will say that. Options become narrow when you start thinking in that vein.
And while I might be able to retain some conveniences anyway, I will have to battle that city’s cons. No city here in this country is perfect, or even good enough in my eyes.
No wonder I’m still ruminating about moving, and not actually moving. Maybe I’ve become too inflexible? Old age catching up to me, as they say?