only native mountains can be better than foreign ones

Looking ahead. First he took me to one place, where we found out they weren't hiring. Then we went to a second place, where I was literally immediately dumbfounded by one sign I simply couldn't ignore. We were walking down the hallway on the second floor, where the HR department is located. And as we approached the door, a displeased man came out—apparently an employee—and yelled "lousy." Just that one word. But it etched itself deep in my subconscious, and deep down I already understood this wasn't the place for me. As for the employer, the bosses I'd met really wanted to hire me. Every single one. But I refused. And I made the decision to return home to Siberia…

THE ONLY MOUNTAINS BETTER THAN THE MOUNTAINS ARE THE ONES YOU CALL HOME = Day 45 =

So my journey has come to an end. I'm home. Yesterday I went to Stolby. I missed my native mountains. It's all over, but there's no sense of completion. Some kind of emptiness inside, filled by nothing. The main things are still ahead, no time to rest, there's still so much to do. But now I know exactly what to do and how—I've gained clarity. It was clarity that this 45-day journey gave me—the one I called "In Search of Adventure"...