Bucket List

I have never considered myself a "bucket list" person, or maybe I just never thought about it that way. Yesterday, I took a ferry from Ibiza to Valencia. Originally planned as a journey from Ibiza to Denia, with a bus connecting to Valencia, the rough weather led to the cancellation of my 8:00 am ferry to Denia. Instead, I was re-routed to a 1:00 pm larger ferry directly to Valencia. While this eliminated an extra step, it also extended my travel day. Kathryn left earlier for her flight to Mallorca at 9:30 am. I opted for a taxi to the Marina at 11:00 am, costing me 50 euros – a hefty sum. At that moment, I questioned my decision, considering that a flight might have been a more economical choice. My mind tends to keep me on my toes, always second-guessing my decisions. However, in the grand scheme of things, reaching my destination matters most. This marked my second ferry trip in two weeks, the first being from Tangier to Tarifa—a bucket list item I didn't know I had, mirroring Santiago's journey in "The Alchemist" but in the opposite direction, from Tarifa to Tangier.

Boarding the ship, I realized I no longer had a seat. This sizable vessel, almost resembling a mini hotel, parking for cars, seats, and rooms. Those bound for Denia, including myself, were relegated to cafeteria seating. The thought crossed my mind again—maybe I should have booked a flight. The 7-8 hour journey felt taxing, especially after a night of poor sleep.

Ibiza Apartment

Leaving this beautiful oasis in about 30 minutes, I reflect on my last moments here. Last night's poor sleep, was attributed to me resting on the couch by the fireplace, amidst the wind, waves, and starlit sky—beautiful and invigorating. Stress surfaced about my upcoming stay in Valencia. The place, though filled with light, is coated white for privacy. Regrets about not booking the other place crept in, but upon reevaluation, both have their pros and cons. In the grand scheme, this place has everything I need, teaching me to create a home wherever I am. FOMO lingers, surprising me with internal dialogue. Another voice appears, criticizing me as "stupid, Talib." I attribute this to recent conversations with my friend about insecurities, bringing to light my inside voices. I decide to go down to the sea, smoke a Mapacho to cleanse, and spend time by the wild sea, to leave all that no longer serves either of us into the sea to cleanse.

The Journey to Valencia

A nap in the cafeteria, alongside neighbours—a young kid on one side, a couple on the other, and myself, the older guy in the middle on diner-style seats—helped pass the time. The rocky ride for the initial hours made walking on the ship challenging. I managed to get an espresso and hot water for cacao but eventually laid down, using my backpack as a pillow, and napped for about 30-40 minutes. Waking up refreshed, I wrote a bit more but then headed to the terrace, where a moment of gratitude swept through me. The sheer beauty of the human construction against the Balearic Sea, surrounded by mountains, left my inner child in awe. Spending time there, I realized the terrace offered an experience I would have missed with a flight. This appreciation for landscapes is why I prefer buses, trains, and boats. I want to see the world from below, cultivating intimacy with the lands I traverse.

Part of my bucket list was fulfilled as I stepped onto the terrace. I've always wanted to travel on a ship of this size during the day. There was a similar experience when my dad and I traveled from Bari, Italy, to Dubrovnik, Croatia, but mostly at night.

Maybe having a bucket list is healthy for the soul—a dream list. As I form new habits and release old ones in this new land where nobody knows me, I contemplate who I want to be now. What new dreams do I want to create atop the dream I am already living?

Layered dreams.