April 2022

On February 24, our life came to an end. Even 54 days later I can hardly believe I’m writing this, but this is our new reality – Russia started a full-scale war in Ukraine and everything that followed that day has been beyond my comprehension capacity. Even 54 days later, I can’t believe the world let it happen, is letting it happen right now and with every day the war is getting more cruel and inhuman. It’s unimaginable yet it is true.

The fact that I’m coming back to the blog means that I have already covered a huge path of suffering and pain, grief and horror, not knowing what to do and what to live for. It also means that I found certain answers and resilience (as well as have taken on certain medicine) to start slowly getting back to my “usual” life. Even though, as I said, in a way it is over.

Among 5 million people who fled Ukraine was my friend with her family, who are now waiting for Ukraine’s victory in Toulouse. Even in my wildest dream did I imagine these new living arrangements but this is how we chose to help. I don’t see myself volunteering on a Polish border but at least I can host my friend – that among other things will be my contribution to our victory.

After a month of a horrible agony, doom scrolling and pointless staring out the window, we thought it might be a good idea to drag ourselves to the seaside. Reconnecting with the nature is a cure for any pain, including the war, it doesn’t fight the cause but at least it helps to put things in perspective and turn off this bloody news feed. So we took a train and headed to Leucate.

And it did feel good. Making a pause in the horror loop, leaving the news cage for a day – this was a reminder that life does go on whether we want it or not. Looking at these pictures, I’m thinking about the faces of depression and how a smiling face can hide an immense pain inside. Probably in five years we won’t believe that this trip was taking place during the darkest days of our lives. I wish I were exaggerating.

While walking in Leucate I couldn’t help noticing that my personality and my true self were still there – neither grief nor madness managed to ruin them so far. I’m still in love with nature and travels, my eyes trained by years of the blogging still search for beauty to capture on my camera and I am still capable of being irritated about the long service in a café. It felt good to be oneself.

In my last blog posts and across the whole last year I was complaining about the Covid restrictions, about renovations that were taking too long, about the life in Toulouse we didn’t want. God, I miss that life SO MUCH. Complaining about my fat arms and dreaming about surfing while dragging behind Xavier in Leroy Merlin (which still wouldn’t leave Russian market…). I want it all back, but it never will because nothing will ever be same.

War could be an interesting experience if it weren’t for the war part. The transformations the whole world will go through, the values and conclusions it will make – this would be fascinating, it frankly is, if only we didn’t have to go through hell to experience them. Why can’t we just play forward to the happy end part without having actually to die for it?

This is officially the weirdest post of the blog, which was supposed to showcase our “unique travels off the beaten path”. Well, I guess going to Leucate with a temporarily evacuated family from Ukraine because of the barbaric war happening in your country this very second can be qualified as a unique travel experience. I hope there won’t be too many of those, though.

In the meantime, every day we manage to live through and save our sanity as a bonus point approaches us to the new world. Keep calm and carry on.