30 Days in California

“If you absolutely couldn’t get an academic job for the following academic year, what would you do?” asked a friend.

It was the end of June. I had been interviewed but, in the end, not selected for my dream job, which I felt was bad enough, but suddenly the possibility of not finding any job by the dreaded September deadline became ever more likely.

“I guess,” I started, “one option would be to find any job in the local area.”

She must have seen that I wasn’t particularly enthusiastic about this idea, so she pressed on: “And what would be the second option?”

The second option was insane, I told her. It would be to do my own version of an Eat, Pray, Love year (Yes, that is one of my favourite books of all time, and no, I’m not ashamed). It would mean putting all my stuff into storage and spending some time with my parents in Portugal, some with my friends in Brazil, another chunk with my friends in California, and the rest wherever any of my other friends would take me.

When she asked me how I felt about this idea, I thought I was being honest when I said I was terrified, that I didn’t think I could do it because it sounded too risky, and I’m the most risk-averse person I know.

“No, that’s not it,” she said abruptly. “There’s something else.”

I suddenly felt defensive. What could she possibly mean?

“Your eyes literally sparkled when you started talking about it.”

She was right, there was something about this idea that really appealed to me, and I suddenly realised what it was: in it, there was a distinct lack of everything that at 31 I was expected to want and absolutely loathed the idea of: a mortgage, a marriage, 2.5 children and a boring yet well-paid job (academia is far too fun and poorly paid to ever fit into this category). Suddenly the idea of not getting another contract no longer seemed like the disastrous occurrence it had appeared to be five minutes ago.

Not many days would pass until I would be celebrating getting an offer for a new one-year contract as a Research Assistant, which I was in equal measures excited, grateful and relieved for. But I simultaneously couldn’t help but feel a little sad that I had to give up my pet plan of travelling the world. That is, until I found out that I would have a one-month gap between the end of my current contract and the beginning of the following one. What would I do with it? It was a no-brainer…