Two weeks away and the whole world should have changed, but I’m home now and things still look the same… yes, I am quoting Dido. Yes it was intentional. No I wont retract it.

My Mayan vacation ended when it was supposed to – after two weeks in the amazing Mexican sun – but my Mayan adventure just begun. It’s hard to explain, I travel a lot (about five times a year, always abroad from my little nook in this world), and never have I been so moved by a trip before. Internally disrupted. I am NOT referring to any kind of Montezuma’s revenge (never get those, thank Lord). I’m referring to the strange, nagging feeling deep inside that I’m missing something here. Butterflies. Schmetterling, as A would say.

Five days home and six nosebleeds later, I realize I AM missing out. Not on a perpetual vacation – who’d want to be so free they had no reason to actually get up in the morning (more than to spend more money) – but on happiness.

I had a long conversation with A – a refreshing breath of clear air, frankly enough telling me off the bat what he felt and wanted (and what guy actually does that?!) – where he told me “If you don’t like there you are, just move. You’re not a tree!”. Well, maybe not in so many words, but the jest was there: if I wanted something else in my life than what I was currently having (being stuck with), I needed to implement the changes.

And even though I already knew that, the logical side of it, it didn’t dawn on me untill being banged over the head with the proverbial wreckingball by a guy I barely knew: if I’m so unhappy it shines through in a place where I am actually happy, then what the hell am I doing with my life?

I’ll tell you. My life has been pretty straight arrow. Aced high school (relentless overachiever, took two high school majors at once and studied 4 foreign languages). Coasted through the university, also there double major. Started working and made my way up to financial management and market development. Pantyhose, high heels, office politics – the whole shabang.

What I didn’t realize was, straightforward as it was, my life was working away from happiness. So I learned that. On an archery court, at a five star resort in a Mexican small town on the Yucatan. A job that paid enough for me to afford two weeks in a five star resort – where I could have my moments of epiphany – wasn’t making me happy.

I realized then and there, computer tan and a closet full of Manolo Blahniks wasn’t worth much in compare – to the Mexican sun and a white-and-burgundy uniform of the sports and entertainment team. Not sure if those guys just really excell at their job, or if they really love it as much as they claim, but they managed to sell it in to me like a bottle of water in the middle of the desert.

So, you thought this would be about how I lied by the pool and drank colorful drinks, or hiked through Coba, or did silly poses by the Chichen Itza? I’ll get to that. Right now, this is about a raging mad woman that had a tiny, but very real existential crisis and is now ready to give up her cosy, secure high-street life for a job as virtually anything travel-related, even if that’s a sports/entertainment team member – yes, you did read that correctly – because she’s stuck in a life two sizes too small for her…

Hey, stranger things have happened!

Stay tuned…