The Great Unraveling: From Pre-Trip Chaos to the Joy of the Unknown

There’s a certain magic that settles in once you’re finally on your way. The frantic energy of the last few weeks begins to dissolve, replaced by the gentle hum of the engine and the promise of adventure. For us, that moment came three and a half hours into the bus journey to Madrid airport.

The world outside blurs, and you’re left in a bubble of transition. You miss an announcement or don't quite understand one, and it doesn’t matter. You find yourself wondering, will the bus stop along the way? and silently hoping it doesn't. It has a toilet and offers free water—what more could anyone truly need?

It’s in this enclosed space that you become hyper-aware of your fellow travelers. Someone coughs. Then they cough again. And you, against your better nature, feel an instant, primal dislike for this stranger. You send silent, hopeful pleas into the universe that whatever they have is a mere tickle and not the plague you’re imagining.

Because let's be honest, the weeks building up to an extended trip are anything but magical. They are a special kind of stressful.

The Pre-Departure Juggling Act

My mind becomes a swirling checklist of "necessary information" and "what-if" scenarios. It’s stressful enough preparing instructions for house and pet sitters, but throw in a campo with eighty-odd olive trees, a vegetable patch, and flower beds, and the complexity multiplies. You’re not just explaining the Wi-Fi password and the dog's feeding schedule; you’re creating a detailed manual on the multiple watering systems scattered across the land. It feels like you’re trying to download your entire brain onto paper.

And then there’s the hardest part: leaving the dogs behind.

Arko was particularly upset this morning, his sad eyes a dagger to the heart. The guilt is real, but so is the logic—I know that as soon as the sitter arrives with a new pair of scratchy hands and a cheerful voice, he’ll be back to his happy, fluffy-pants self in no time. I’ll miss them terribly, but the knowledge that they are in good hands is the balm that soothes the ache of goodbye.

The Moment It All Shifts

So, what makes it all worthwhile? Why do we put ourselves through this pre-trip wringer?

The answer is this exact moment. The moment you are firmly on the bus, the plane, or the train. The moment the stress levels finally drop, and you can admit to yourself: I’ve done my best. There is nothing else I can do now except relax.

This is the great unraveling. The excitement of travelling is what fuels this cycle. It’s the thrill of visiting another country, of immersing yourself in a new land, and surrendering to the unknown. Will the weather be kind? What will the local food truly be like? Every detail is a discovery waiting to happen.

And when you’re revisiting a country, like we are, the unknown takes on a different flavour. It’s the joy of seeing old friends and the curiosity of wondering how a place has changed over the years. Has that little café on the corner survived? Does the city feel the same?

The journey has officially begun. The chaos is behind us, and the adventure lies ahead. I’ll fill you in when we get there.