Transitioning

Wowza it’s been a month since I left Canada where I spent the summer with my family and friends.

For seven weeks I lived in a modern house with a front patio for sipping coffee in the morning.  For seven weeks I was just minutes from the beach, accessible by a nice car.  I spent several hours taking care of my nephews – dropping them off at day camp, taking them to the library, making them lunch.  All of that in between meetings with accountants and financial advisors where I had to discuss life plans and insurance and even retirement.  Seven weeks surrounded by people who go to work at set hours, have week-ends free, own houses and make regular contributions to RRSPs.

It all felt very secure.

And so for seven weeks I questioned my decisions to move to Morocco and start a business here, my future and my motives.  I wondered why I prefer to live in a centuries-old medina house in Marrakech rather than a modern apartment in downtown Toronto.  I thought (negatively) about career options in Canada.  And I wondered why I didn’t want what everyone around me seems to have.  After all, my work schedule is bonkers, my savings limited and the list of what I own nil.

Yet, I couldn’t wait to jump on a plane and return to the incredibly exotic and stimulating city that is Marrakech. Where working in the tourism and lifestyle industry can mean working 18 hours a day, or just a few.  Where despite my best efforts to create a to-do list, something unexpected always comes up.  And I like it that way.  You see, Marrakech is the place that makes my soul come alive. In fact, life here is unlike any other place I’ve travelled or lived.

But after seven weeks away, the return has also been a struggle as I continue to question my decisions.

And so I try to tell myself that I have chosen a lifestyle. One that includes travel, afternoons spent in restaurants enjoying a bottle of wine with lunch, flexible work schedules and organic food at reasonable prices are just a few of the benefits. In Marrakech every night can be Friday and every morning Monday, days of the week just don’t matter.

I also try to remember that the opportunities I’ve had here in Morocco cannot be purchased. Learning new languages, understanding new cultures, exploring new interests, unbelievable career opportunities, and travel and lots of it.

So I’m getting back in to the groove of Marrakech and feeling confident that this is the life I prefer. But in the meantime, I can’t help but wonder if I will eventually regret my decisions to have a lifestyle rather than social securities like health care and pensions and even a house to call my own.