There is not much going on, and I’m in a pensive mood. I hang out by the pool, swim at the gym (makes me think, quiet under water), avoid the daytime heat in Buenos Aires…

And the end of the journey is so close, so I start to reflect a lot…

I have no idea how this long trip has changed me, I’m sure that it has but I cannot point the finger at it. Probably, hopefully, my friends back home will tell me.

I recently met Roberto, a traveller from São Paulo, whose amazement about my journey really amazes me.

It’s become so natural to travel, so normal… that I probably need an outsider to tell me about it, stop and think what a damn great thing it was.

To me, hopping on a plane to the next destination has become something of a second nature… new month, new city, taxi, airport, plane, taxi, apartment, phone chip, supermarket, first drink… It’s like being on autopilot by now. To me, this is just what I do.

Do I sound jaded? Arrogant, even…? For taking this for granted when, indeed, as I take a step back, it’s been over-the-top amazing?

I think about coming home to Brussels a lot, of course.

My mind starts making to-do lists, from the first check-up at my doctor (appointment made) to a visit to the dentist, the change of my prepaid card to a contract, etc…

Hell, I even thought of pre-ordering a delivery of groceries like milk and Coke bottles from the supermarket for the second day, so I have it all arranged…

But then, maybe I should actually see the size of my future kitchen in real life before jumping ahead of my and ordering tons of groceries. (I hate dragging them home…)

But I’m straying….

It will probably feel totally surreal to be back in Brussels.

First night, I’ll go to lovely Fontainas, where I have been literally hundreds of times in 12 years, and I’ll have a welcome-home-drink with Sven and Kevin.

I see myself sitting there either happy to be back, speechless (as it’s too surreal), or maybe crying. I have no idea.

I think the real test to coming back will not be those first days, or going back to work, but a point some 4-5 weeks after arriving, when my inner clock will tell me: hey, it’s time to pack, move on, hop on a plane, taxi, airport….

I dread that moment, right now.

That’s probably the cause that I have been in a booking frenzy as of lately to plan a few future trips.

Some are related to coming home. I need to go to see my parents – it’s been nearly a year – and get some stuff stored there. I’ll also go to Paris to see my sister and get my computer back….

But then I also have a trip to London coming up, to the LGBT film festival and the Madonna album launch party, then another trip in July, to see Bette Midler, with friends…

And then there’s the whole crazy Rebel Heart Tour happening in 2015, which is already close to become my biggest Madonna tour ever, and they haven’t even released all the dates yet…

I think we don’t need a psychologist to analyze this behavior.

I have 10 days.