It's the transitions that hurt the most (change is painful)

We are at that time of the year in Ibiza where it is inevitable; the winter season is here. It is now so definitely here. The best ice cream place (Italian, of course) has shut down, the best chiringuito(Sunset Ashram, Cala Conta) is closed. People start to leave. Walking in town during the day, I am surprised at hearing almost only Catalan, the local language. There is actually a thriving local population (of about 100,000 people) who speak their own version of Catalan called Ibicenco, who have normal jobs, who are happy that the winter is here, because now they are back to normal life, without the masses of tourists around to make life rather miserable. 
All summer I was longing for the winter; for this. For the quietness, for the phone not to be hysterically beeping all the time, for having the house to myself, for not needing to answer the exact same questions day in and day out (I work with tourists), for not having a clogged email inbox daily, for not being overwhelmed with all the things I needed to do each and every day (no Sunday rest, no way). 
And now that time has come. 
First comes the summer-is-over-honeymoon, which is always in October. The light is golden, the beaches are warm and empty, the sea is warm, glitteringly turqoise, inviting. There are visitors, friends and family come to hang out, I get to show them the best of this island. There are lunches, dinners, wine, wine and wine, kids running around, just endless fun. 
And once they start to take off; once I drop them off at the airport and wave the final goodbye, that's the the real sense of change sets in. 
It took me a whole week to understand that winter season has come to stay, and that it is ok, that it is NOT the end of the world. 
Normally I am a very active person and I like being in full force each and every day. But even someone like me needs to rest sometimes, needs to focus inwards, needs to do things differently and in a different pace. I have always lived a seasonal life, just that before it was designed by myself, and now it is more ruled by the season's of the island Ibiza. 
I used to work endlessly for a stretch of 6 to 8 months, intensely and without any breaks, and then go away, travelling somewhere, preferably and most often to Asia. I loved the changes, and I had designed my life to BE CHANGE, because ROUTINE DRIVES ME MAD AND KILLS ME SLOWLY but still, there were always the transitional periods of extreme anxiety for the change that was coming, each and every time. 
Excitement prevailed the change, and once the change was upon me and inevitably staring me in the eye, I was full of fear. Many times have I walked down Khao San Road in Bangkok, the backpacker ghetto, wondering what I was doing there, feeling so big and white and sweaty and out of touch with everything around me. Waking up at all the strangest hours of the night, lying there watching the ceiling fan, wondering why I was putting myself through all of this. And yet, every time I was at the end of the trip, particularly when at the airport on the way back, having a farewell-drink to myself, I would cheers all the people, adventures and places I had met, and was always incredibly grateful for having had the courage to take off, alone, into the unknown. It became a drug, the change, and in the end, instead of continuing forever to live nomadically, I settled down in a place that would allow mew the same lifestyle. 
But the change is rough, those changeover periods in the spring and int he fall. they make me uneasy. Once everything is rolling and everything is in place, it all happens naturally. But it's those weeks when the change has to click into a new set of wheels, a new motion, a new rhythm and pace, that I feel uneasy. 
Today it all just clicked back in. Winter mode. It means I have equally long lists of things to do; they are just different things, more creative things. More time to try new recipes, more time to tak looong walks with my dog. Time do do my daily yoga during the DAY, rather than at 10 pm after the kids have fallen asleep. Time to watch movies, time to watch documentaries, time to read books. Time to write emails to friends who live all over the world. Time to say yes to scattered freelance work that during the summer I barely have time to say "no" to. Time to take pictures of the purple sunset. Time to write lists and think. Time to do the dishes before they become a mountain in the kitchen, time to fold the laundry before it makes a second mountain in my living room. 
Just TIME.

That TIME used to be TIME to just look at the sea, hang in a hammock, take TIME to do everything slowly during a day somewhere in Asia. A routine; a different one, a slower one. One with more space. 

Welcome winter 2016. Let's be creative friends!