Sad to say we missed out on the Grotto Azzurre (Blue Grotto) in Capri due to the wind. I vote for not getting crashed and thrashed around in the mystical blue cave, although it would have been undoubtedly bellissimo. Accepted a ride with the man we thought was Constanza from our B&B, only to realize once already in the car that some Italians look alike and he was in fact, not Constanza. Gotta learn to look a little closer. He was nice and dropped us right at the door of our restaurant.
We left our B&B in Capri at 6:00 in the morning to begin our journey to the aeroporto to welcome my family to Italy. The nonno (grandfather) of the B&B drove us in a tiny 4WD which essentially came close to vertical as we bumped down the ultra steep hill to the piazza. There we boarded a bus to Marina Grande. Onto the ferry we went to Napoli. Into a taxi we climbed to the Napoli Centrale statzione. Hopped into carriage 10 of il treno and off we went to Roma. Quick switch over in Roma to the Leonadro Express treno and away we went to the aeroporto.
My honest, albeit slightly pathetic attempts at speaking Italian have proven to be quite comical thus far. But I do what I gotta do and I nod my head in a certain direction, and I make big hand gestures while concentrating on the correct syllabic emphasis only to yield a broken sentence with practically butchered pronunciation.
Italia is a strange place to wake up in...we got called beautiful (molto bella) and sexy (provocante), got my booty cupped due times by a cabbie who was helping me with my backpack in a very creative way, and got called a fascista Americana all before 9:00 am. Now, that's a morning.
Jodi and I got to the airport just as the plane bearing my family landed in Rome. We stood in the crowds at the arrival gates with signs in hand reading "Benvenuto Italia!" and their names along with a picture of a sunflower..just in case they did not recognize the stupida americanas jumping up and down. After a long game of where's waldo, we finally spotted them inching through the crowds wearing smiles mixed with a bit of jet lag and pure excitement and anticipation. A train ride later we checked our bags at the Rome train terminal and headed into Rome for the afternoon. We tossed a coin in the Fontana di Trevi with wishes to return to Italy some day and made our way to the ancient Pantheon. As we stopped for lunch so the girls could enjoy their first taste of true Italian food we were greeted with a super happy and partially drunk Aussie fella, who could not seem to get enough of our table. I will take a moment to boast he did say we were all cute but that I was "1% cuter than the others", thereby tagging me with my "1%" nickname for the remainder of the week. We each received our Aussie cheek kisses and bid him goodbye. Strangely enough, that wasn't my only proposal of the day as I landed 2 other marriage proposals from 2 different nationalities that afternoon. We blame the yellow dress. Who knew Europe could make you feel so pretty? (Even if they are just enticing you to eat at their restaurants:) Gelato break and then back to the train station where we sadly discovered Mama had fallen victim to the classic tourist gets pick-pocketed routine. They got her passport and over half her money that she had saved for her trip. I would kick them in the head if I knew who they were. With the police report filed, we boarded our train to Cortona. The train dropped us at Camucia station and we stood at this little deserted train station looking a bit pathetic and lost until the conductor pointed in the right direction and off we went. Mama attempted a heel click in celebration of landing in her dream village and we all held our breath in waiting for a safe landing:) The villa was situated just beyond the stone gates of Cortona, rested on the hill overlooking a beautiful Italian landscape and was perfect and pure Italian without having to try. Perfect time to cheers with limoncello made in Capri with a toast to a magical week under the Tuscan sun. "Tomorrrrooowww..I ride a vespa!! Uhhh...No!"
We began each morning with a croissant (cornetto) and a cappuccino, as it only seemed right. Jenn learned that a croissant can make you oh so happy. By the end of the week we had all learned a fair amount of Italian phrases to help us communicate effectively, however there were still occasions that called for a rousing game of charades. We all gave it our best shot! For instance for Jenn, "yummy" and a good rub on the tummy does not always translate. Hannah struggled to figure out how to say "No, the food was good, but I'm just full!". I started to attempt "toilet paper" via gestures but wisely decided against it and went with "toilette paper?". "Menu" and "check please" (il conto) are thankfully fairly universal gestures
Lessons learned: ristorantes typically close between 2:30-7:30 for their type of "siesta", so if you want food, you eat when the Italians eat! This means early for breakfast, early for lunch, gelato stop mid afternoon, and late dinner! Tackling the language barrier can be relatively easy in some cases, whereas in others like trying to tell a taxi where and when to pick you up and drop you off via telefono can prove more difficult. Mama's Rick Steves Italian Phrase Book and Dictionary was priceless as the week went on. "Prego" can mean "you're welcome", or "how can I help you" or "welcome to.." or if you are Hannah, you can just throw that word out to anyone, anytime, anywhere:) "Hannah did you just say prego?" "Yes. Yes, I did." Or if you are Jenn, it's "Ragu!" Public restrooms are not easy to come by and when you do find them you might need to have a euro handy and sometimes we were forced to make do with the homeless man's bathroom..
Much more to come on our week bouncing through Italy:)
Each day I am learning more and more about the true challenges of travel. Contrary to what most may think, a 4 month trek across the world is not only about a fun-filled, extended vacation. I've coined the term before, but I know no better way to describe my journey than with the words soul vacation. It confuses me how I can be traveling across some of the most beautiful, culture enriched lands and still be homesick and missing the comforts of America in the fall. The emotional highs and lows are extreme and never-ending as I continually learn exactly what I am capable of on my own, removed from those basic constants of home. Every day is a day misplaced from my element and yet I am discovering how to be more at home within myself so that my actual element is always within reach. There are days that I am left feeling completely overwhelmed and like I am in over my head...and then there are days that I believe I can conquer the world with only my love of life and my blue backpack. My observation and adaptation skills are being finely tuned as I make my way through each country, taking notes and absorbing the different cultures. I am taking this time to reflect on my past experiences and I realize now more than ever how each circumstance in my life has been the proverbial stepping stone to lead me to who and where I am today. Without my past joys, struggles and heartaches I would not know what I know today. Which, granted is not much, but it does give me an extra inch of hope for the future and comfort for anything I might face in the present..and with that, I gain a superb sense of peace and accomplishment.
My hope is to return to the states in December with a new sense of confidence. With a new attitude and shifted perspective toward life. I want to see my circumstances through eyes without foggy doubt but with a clarity that comes with acceptance of the idea that life is a series of events meant to teach and strengthen. I don't want to walk away from this journey unchanged but I also don't want to place too much pressure on the experience. I want the changes to come about naturally and unforced.
I've realized there are days I place too much pressure on the experience of the day, wanting to make sure it does not go to waste and that the next thing planned is something even greater. But I also have to step back and realize that part of the experience comes with the simple day to day things as well. The waking up in a foreign country and walking the streets of an unknown city, getting lost in it's twisted roads with no plan at all. It's surprising how difficult it is sometimes to let go and let the beauty of each day sustain you. I think as a traveler it is too easy sometimes to slip into the cliche mindset of "the grass is always greener" and to constantly search for the next best thing. I want to wake up each morning with an appreciation for that specific day and know that, yes, that is where I am meant to be and I will take in every second with a full heart.
Another struggle I am realizing is the dilemma of finding time to do everything I want to do. I know, to be gone for 4 months and to say I have that problem seems a little silly. But what I mean is, I want to take in all of life surrounding me and grown in countless ways. And sometimes that seems overwhelming and a bit daunting. I want to grow from my experiences and what I go out and see and do but I also want to take time to read and write and research and grow in knowledge in worldly and academic matters as well. I want so badly to be well rounded and intelligent with something to offer every person i encounter.
There are things I am learning to adapt to like not having laundry available as often as I would typically like, which means getting very creative with my already small choices in wardrobe. And it's funny the things that begin to excite you, like when the shower is exceptionally clean and accessible in comparison to the last place where the shower flooded the entry way of the hostel and there was a strange smell exuding from the common room that you would just rather not know about. It is always an adventure to figure out how to flush a toilet and the always present bidet never ceases to make me smile. We have found ourselves googling odd things such as "how to use a bidet", "how many feet are in a meter", and "how many American dollars are in a Hungarian forint (HUF)". I now know to not book for more than one night in a row if I haven't see the hostel, especially if they ask you to pay up front, to check out the ratings on more than one hostel booking website, and to plug in the address to google maps beforehand because a "stones throw away from the train station" might in fact mean a good 20 min walk on the opposite side of town, away from everything important and all other life forms.
The plan is to leave Italy tomorrow, on a 15 hour train ride to Budapest. My heart rate quickens when I think of entering a country as foreign as Hungary. My initial thought is to say, no way I am not going there it's too scary. And then I stop and think, but that's where the adventure is, within the unknown. How can I deny myself that opportunity? So, here's to stepping completely out of my comfortable box into a world of differences.
Friday, October 28, 2011
Saturday, October 15, 2011
Buongiorno da Italia
I touched down in Rome with a nasty cold that latched on in Oz and had not since let up. Needless to say the changes in altitude, combined with the expected complications of jet lag left me feeling somewhat worthless. After an exciting game of cat and mouse in the stazione termini, Jodi and I finally found each other and ventured into the streets of Rome for my first real Italian cuisine. Sadly, I quickly realized because of my evil cold, I was unable to taste a single thing. Decided to save the first glass of vino for a night it would be worthwhile. The next day I was rendered useless by jet lag and the cold from hell and slept the entire day away only to wake for another meal I still could not taste. Time to kick this cold. Dove la farmacia? Off to find drugs we went. I then noted that I had seriously underestimated how difficult it might be to buy cold medicine in a farmacia with no Italian speaking skills to my name. So, I put on my sick face, grabbed my throat, made a pathetic coughing sound and set off to more than likely fully insult the intelligence of the perfectly capable pharmacist with a quick game of charades.
Feeling drugged up and refreshed, we opened our tourist map and began our tour of Rome. There are not really words to describe a day spent roaming the streets of a city thriving in modern times yet built upon ancient ruins. The history of this city seems to seep out of the buildings and the old fountains, almost like an aroma that floats through the air, wafting over the archaic bridges and is captured in the small family restaurants, and gelato stands. There was a surreal ambience that encapsulated me as I entered the Piazza Del Popolo and suddenly I was walking in a personified postcard. I became the extra in the scene, with the beauty of my backdrop far overshadowing any importance I felt I might have in this moment. A few minutes into our walk, I looked up to see St. Peter's Bascilica and the Vatican in the near distance, because..sure, why wouldn't it be. The day was planned with no plan. We wondered from Piazza del Popolo, by the Castel Sant' Angelo and across the Ponte Sant' Angelo, down the cobbled roads to Piazza Navona, stopped in at the Pantheon and continued to Campo Di Fiori. Method of nutrition and hydration?? Gelato, pasta, caffe and vino. Nothing better:)
As I sat in the Pantheon I couldn't help but feel a bit envious of those Catholics in the room who were literally feeling a magical, religious connection at that very moment. I closed my eyes and said a prayer, searching for that same mystic bond.
We were in need of a 2 day trip to pass the time until Sunday when it would be time to return to Rome and pick up my family...googled it up and decided that a train ride and a quick ferry ride to Capri island would do the trick. Forgot one small detail and didn't check the weather on Capri...buying a ferry ticket to an unfamiliar island using only English in an Italian speaking country proved even more ridiculously difficult with the rain pouring down on top of us. There comes a point when you just stop trying to not get wet and you accept your fate as a strong resemblance of a drown rat. We got to the island and discovered that our bed and breakfast was set near the top of the the highest peak on the island. A cab and a car ride later we climbed the steep steps to a true Italian bed and breakfast with our balcony overlooking all of Capri. Plans for the weekend: stroll the streets filled with genuine Italian shops where the Italian shoemaker is sitting in the window carefully crafting his shoes for sale and scarf-clad Italian women perch on stools in doorways sewing small dresses, eat gelato, read and watch the sun set over Ischia island, drink Limoncello, and eat more gelato.
It's time to learn me. It's time for me to step outside any metaphorical box I've ever placed myself in and break free of any boundaries which have ever held me back. I've said before we are powerful beings, capable of making or breaking another's spirit. If we are so powerful over another's outcome, then we are certainly more influential when it comes to our own lives. More times than not, I must be the catalyst of change in my own life. Take risks and have faith that whatever I do, things will work out. I cannot live life in fear. Fear of the unknown, or even fear of the known. I want to recognize my own strengths and weaknesses. I want to know what I have to offer people in my life and then do it with a full heart and passion like none other.
Tomorrow morning we will take a car, a bus and two train rides back to the airport in Rome where I will hold a sign with my mom and sisters names on them and will then proceed to jump up and down and create an American spectacle.
Blessed is this life. And I'm gonna celebrate being alive.
Feeling drugged up and refreshed, we opened our tourist map and began our tour of Rome. There are not really words to describe a day spent roaming the streets of a city thriving in modern times yet built upon ancient ruins. The history of this city seems to seep out of the buildings and the old fountains, almost like an aroma that floats through the air, wafting over the archaic bridges and is captured in the small family restaurants, and gelato stands. There was a surreal ambience that encapsulated me as I entered the Piazza Del Popolo and suddenly I was walking in a personified postcard. I became the extra in the scene, with the beauty of my backdrop far overshadowing any importance I felt I might have in this moment. A few minutes into our walk, I looked up to see St. Peter's Bascilica and the Vatican in the near distance, because..sure, why wouldn't it be. The day was planned with no plan. We wondered from Piazza del Popolo, by the Castel Sant' Angelo and across the Ponte Sant' Angelo, down the cobbled roads to Piazza Navona, stopped in at the Pantheon and continued to Campo Di Fiori. Method of nutrition and hydration?? Gelato, pasta, caffe and vino. Nothing better:)
As I sat in the Pantheon I couldn't help but feel a bit envious of those Catholics in the room who were literally feeling a magical, religious connection at that very moment. I closed my eyes and said a prayer, searching for that same mystic bond.
We were in need of a 2 day trip to pass the time until Sunday when it would be time to return to Rome and pick up my family...googled it up and decided that a train ride and a quick ferry ride to Capri island would do the trick. Forgot one small detail and didn't check the weather on Capri...buying a ferry ticket to an unfamiliar island using only English in an Italian speaking country proved even more ridiculously difficult with the rain pouring down on top of us. There comes a point when you just stop trying to not get wet and you accept your fate as a strong resemblance of a drown rat. We got to the island and discovered that our bed and breakfast was set near the top of the the highest peak on the island. A cab and a car ride later we climbed the steep steps to a true Italian bed and breakfast with our balcony overlooking all of Capri. Plans for the weekend: stroll the streets filled with genuine Italian shops where the Italian shoemaker is sitting in the window carefully crafting his shoes for sale and scarf-clad Italian women perch on stools in doorways sewing small dresses, eat gelato, read and watch the sun set over Ischia island, drink Limoncello, and eat more gelato.
It's time to learn me. It's time for me to step outside any metaphorical box I've ever placed myself in and break free of any boundaries which have ever held me back. I've said before we are powerful beings, capable of making or breaking another's spirit. If we are so powerful over another's outcome, then we are certainly more influential when it comes to our own lives. More times than not, I must be the catalyst of change in my own life. Take risks and have faith that whatever I do, things will work out. I cannot live life in fear. Fear of the unknown, or even fear of the known. I want to recognize my own strengths and weaknesses. I want to know what I have to offer people in my life and then do it with a full heart and passion like none other.
Tomorrow morning we will take a car, a bus and two train rides back to the airport in Rome where I will hold a sign with my mom and sisters names on them and will then proceed to jump up and down and create an American spectacle.
Blessed is this life. And I'm gonna celebrate being alive.
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
A soul vacation like no other...
I learned a few things when snorkeling the reef. Grab some snacks and snuggle up, cos it's story time.
The first is the Romeo and Juliet of the sea: There are certain fish called butterfly fish and when they choose a mate, they choose a mate for life. When one dies, the other abandons all other efforts to live and begins swimming in circles around the spot their mate was last seen alive. The living fish swims and swims, unyielding in it's search for it's lost love. It swims until it literally dies of fatigue and hunger, surrendering to death as the only answer to it's grand display of loyalty and love. Ah, the romance of the sea:)
I also learned of the untold story of finding nemo: The battle of the sexes. Here is how the story should've gone down according to marine biology: the female clown fish (Nemos mom, Coral) continually nags at the male clown fish (Nemos dad, Marlin). Her persistent nagging causes Marlin to release male hormones, thereby keeping his male status. Once Coral dies, Marlin will cease to produce the hormones and will no longer maintain his masculinity. He will become the female of the family and will choose Nemo for his new mate, beginning the nagging process with him to ensure he remains male. Gives it a bit of a different, albeit disturbing spin eh??:)
From Port Douglas we continued our drive north to Cape Tribulation. This drive was incredible with heaps of curvy roads all bordered with the vast blue-green ocean to the right and the dense multi-colored rainforest to the left. We learned quickly what a Cassowary bird is and based on the stories and the hundreds of warning signs decided that if we saw one of these birds that is the deadliest known bird for humans, growing up to 7-8 ft tall, that we would first, snap a picture for proof of existence while simultaneously praying that our existence would continue past the encounter. Sadly, we never got to see the little fella. Cape Trib experience in a tiny nutshell: dance party with two Americans and two Canadians (the hostel was a bit lacking in numbers of people), laying on the beach under the moon and the stars where the ocean meets the reef, and trekking through the rainforest with Matt the awesome German who was amazingly capable of keeping up with mine and Lauras random humor. We ate ice cream at Daintree Ice Cream Company which is basically located in paradise surrounded by the most beautiful and colorful scenery I've ever seen. The ice cream is made from the fruit trees grown right there on the property; we hadn't heard of more than half of those fruits. Delicious. Take away memory: Laura forging the path ahead of me and Matt on the Imogen Creek Trail. Laura turning with a pale face and mouth shaped into a large "O". Laura not saying a word as she sprinted with straight hands and high knees past me and Matt. Laura finally saying as she stood behind us that she saw a baby croc on the path. We later found out it was a ridiculously large and ugly lizard called a Goana, but that didn't matter. We'd had our croc sighting and the memory of Laura in a baby croc panic will make me laugh forever. "Baby croc. Baby croc. High knees High Knees!! Don't trip don't trip!!"
Down the road we went to the Whit Sunday Islands where we met up with Wayne (a friend of Laura's from Sydney) and his parents Glen and Margaret. They own a private sailboat and were gracious enough to let me and Laura stay with them for the night and the next day. We boarded the boat just before sunset with perfectly blue skies and an even more blue ocean reflection of that sky. We spent the evening sipping rum and coke (our introduction to Bundy Rum, the local Aussie rum brewed in Bundaberg) and talked with this amazing family until the stars were well set in the sky. I realized while talking with Wayne's parents just how educated and well rounded so many of the Aussies are. I tried my best to soak up as much information from them as I could. Biggest lesson of the night: learned to identify the Southern Cross in the sky, which the constellation on the Australian flag. They taught me how to find the Southern Celestial Pole using the cross, which is the southern hemispheres equivalent of the Northern Star. Now, I will always know which way is south and which is north, no matter what hemisphere I'm lost in..now, if only I would know what to do with that information! This night happened to be 3 years to the day of my Daddy meeting up with the angels, and I could think of no better way to spend it then talking with him under the deep sky of the southern hemisphere with a nearly full moon and the boat gently rocking me to sleep. I like knowing he is up there and gets to be with me on all these adventures. I think he'd be happy for me. Went for a morning sail and Glen was brave enough to let me and Laura man the wheel of the boat for a while as we learned as many sailor terms as we could manage.
Airlie Beach was one night adventure all on its own. After napping in the grass near the beach, we got ready for the night. All I can say about this night is I was introduced to the world of Aussie footy boy culture. Wow. They are a hilarious and very different breed than our American boys. Lesson: there are very distinct sports to be distinguished between. Rugby is not the same as Footy (Australian League Football). What you play largely depends on geography, Queensland region vs. NSW region. Careful there, I'm sure I'm still not even right on the differences and they love their footy.
A bit down the coast is Fraser Island. This place needs its own blog entirely. It's The largest sand island in the world and home of the most natural breed of dingos, who freely roam all over the island. You must take a barge to get there. Only 4WD vehicles are permitted because the beach is literally the highway on the island. Me and Laura, the prepared planners that we are loaded the car up on the barge and set forth on our journey, with smiles on our faces and no idea what we were getting ourselves into. As we drove off the barge, we parked, pulled out the manual for our hired car, found 4WD in the index and began our lesson of the day. After bumping and bouncing the 15 kM to the beach we started picking up a few more lessons. Bar tender: "did you guys let your tires down?" Us: "Huh?" Bar tender (after he stops laughing): "Tires need to be let down to at least 16 psi. Have you gotten bogged yet?" Us: "Huh? What's bogged??" Bar tender (more laughing): "Obviously you have not gotten bogged yet." We learned what bogged meant the next day, three times over:) Camper friends: "You have a hired car on Fraser??" Us: "Yep. Why?" Camper friends: "Hired cars aren't allowed on Fraser!! Oh well, you at least have your drivers permit to drive on the island?" Us: blank stare. Camper friends (more laughter): "Oh man. Well you have your campers permit to camp here?" Us: "Campers permit?? We literally just got on the barge!" Response of the night: "Damn lucky tourists!" I'm sure all those who know me and Laura well are not at all surprised at this point:) Night number 1 we pulled into our campsite off the beach, behind the dunes and turned off the car. Problem: pitch black outside. Dingos. It's only 6:30 at night. Problem solved: stargazing through the windows, a few paper cups of wine and a muse over life. This place is beyond amazing. You literally drive on the beach, with the ocean about 5 feet from your car and water splashing in the window. No lanes on this highway, just signal to say which way your veering, and Speed limit gets up to about 80 km/h. Hiked up Indian head, a super high look out and spotted several sharks, sting rays and sea turtles swimming below. Saw whales playing in the distance. Swam in Lake McKenzie, an unreal crystal clear lake filled with only rainwater. Camped with a group of boys and their family who were amazing and took us in, offered us food, drinks and music. Met Bart Thrupp, an incredible artist on the radio in Oz and will for sure be big soon. Spent another night stargazing and wishing on shooting stars in one of the most beautiful starry skies I've ever seen. Flew kites on the beach with two really cute families we met at the creek. Near death experience: missing our turn inland to catch our barge, driving toward the southern tip of the island without realizing it, no other cars in sight, only 1\4 tank petrol in the car, unbelievably soft sand in which we almost bog about 5 times, sun going down, tide coming up, no signs to indicate where we are on the island. Thankfully, we finally spotted a group of cars at the far tip. We made it on the last barge of the day with only 5 minutes to spare (wrong barge, but we played the sad, lost girls card and they let us on no worries:) Otherwise the night would have included me, Laura and Migaloo either getting bogged and washed into the ocean overnight, or being stranded on the shore with no gas, no people and the dingos. Oy vey.
Favorite part of the Australian highway is the heaps of signs geared toward keeping you awake, like "Rest. Or RIP", "Are we there yet Mum?" or some fairly graphic pics of cars crashing into trees and Cassowarys. Stopped for some free coffee/tea and bikkys (a biscuit is a cookie is a bikky) at the Rest. Revive. Survive. stops run by volunteers. And yes Loz, we slept at the truckers spot and survived!;) Also spotted our first wild kangaroos on that highway. Felt relieved once we saw them and the passenger didn't have to be on "Roo-duty" anymore.
Learned how to surf in Noosa..well Laura learned to surf, I learned how to fall somewhat gracefully back first into the water without hurting myself. Hung out with some local Aussies that taught us all about koalas and their predicament, as well as other things.
Byron Bay was last stop. Little hippie town where you instantly feel a bit lazy and immediately want to curl up on a hammock and take a nice nap. Pretty beach, interesting and funky culture. Slept at the Art Factory hostel in what resembled a covered wagon from the Oregon trail. Ended the trip by waking up at 5 to drive up to the light house and watch the sunrise over the ocean.
The next two weeks were spent in Sydney, doing the touristy biz and meeting Las Aussie mates. No worries, I approve of all of them:) Did the Opera House, sketched the Opera House while sitting in the botanical gardens, ate Roo pizza, walked the harbor bridge, visited Newtown, hung out at Manly beach, went to a barbe and watched the AFL championship with some true footy fans\players, and toured the wine region at Hunter Valley.
The last month of my life feels unreal on countless levels. Truly a soul vacation. I am realizing each day that the saying "the more you learn, the less you know" is not so much an observation but an absolute truth. So now I am Saying goodbye to the world of footy and rugby with its Tim tams, ciders and wedges with sour cream and sweet chili sauce. I've grown accustomed to and will miss my daily encounters with phrases such as "ay, how you goin?", "fancy a drink?", "Aw, no worries, you'll be right" and "that's rubbish!" Now..it's time to learn some Italian:)
As i sit on this plane to Beijing i realize I have so much to learn. I realize the large amount of respect for all those who speak a different language. I smile as the announcement on the speaker was just spoken in Chinese first, followed by English about 5 minutes later, and the girl next to me on the plane is reading a magazine written in pictures and symbols I cannot even fathom to understand. At the airport I patiently waited my in line for the restroom and when it was my turn I walked up to the stall, took a big step up into the stall, closed the door behind me and turned around only to find what looked like a toilet seat with no base, lodged into the ground and two little footprints on either side showing where to position your feet. I promptly did what Stacia does so well, panicked, opened the door and exited within about 3 seconds of walking into the stall. Wallked past the end of the line and out of the bathroom laughing at myself the whole time. Apparently, I'm not culturally savvy enough yet to know what to do with a squat toilet.
Next stop: Rome, Italy. Where I will greet the pasta, wine and gelato with open arms.
The first is the Romeo and Juliet of the sea: There are certain fish called butterfly fish and when they choose a mate, they choose a mate for life. When one dies, the other abandons all other efforts to live and begins swimming in circles around the spot their mate was last seen alive. The living fish swims and swims, unyielding in it's search for it's lost love. It swims until it literally dies of fatigue and hunger, surrendering to death as the only answer to it's grand display of loyalty and love. Ah, the romance of the sea:)
I also learned of the untold story of finding nemo: The battle of the sexes. Here is how the story should've gone down according to marine biology: the female clown fish (Nemos mom, Coral) continually nags at the male clown fish (Nemos dad, Marlin). Her persistent nagging causes Marlin to release male hormones, thereby keeping his male status. Once Coral dies, Marlin will cease to produce the hormones and will no longer maintain his masculinity. He will become the female of the family and will choose Nemo for his new mate, beginning the nagging process with him to ensure he remains male. Gives it a bit of a different, albeit disturbing spin eh??:)
From Port Douglas we continued our drive north to Cape Tribulation. This drive was incredible with heaps of curvy roads all bordered with the vast blue-green ocean to the right and the dense multi-colored rainforest to the left. We learned quickly what a Cassowary bird is and based on the stories and the hundreds of warning signs decided that if we saw one of these birds that is the deadliest known bird for humans, growing up to 7-8 ft tall, that we would first, snap a picture for proof of existence while simultaneously praying that our existence would continue past the encounter. Sadly, we never got to see the little fella. Cape Trib experience in a tiny nutshell: dance party with two Americans and two Canadians (the hostel was a bit lacking in numbers of people), laying on the beach under the moon and the stars where the ocean meets the reef, and trekking through the rainforest with Matt the awesome German who was amazingly capable of keeping up with mine and Lauras random humor. We ate ice cream at Daintree Ice Cream Company which is basically located in paradise surrounded by the most beautiful and colorful scenery I've ever seen. The ice cream is made from the fruit trees grown right there on the property; we hadn't heard of more than half of those fruits. Delicious. Take away memory: Laura forging the path ahead of me and Matt on the Imogen Creek Trail. Laura turning with a pale face and mouth shaped into a large "O". Laura not saying a word as she sprinted with straight hands and high knees past me and Matt. Laura finally saying as she stood behind us that she saw a baby croc on the path. We later found out it was a ridiculously large and ugly lizard called a Goana, but that didn't matter. We'd had our croc sighting and the memory of Laura in a baby croc panic will make me laugh forever. "Baby croc. Baby croc. High knees High Knees!! Don't trip don't trip!!"
Down the road we went to the Whit Sunday Islands where we met up with Wayne (a friend of Laura's from Sydney) and his parents Glen and Margaret. They own a private sailboat and were gracious enough to let me and Laura stay with them for the night and the next day. We boarded the boat just before sunset with perfectly blue skies and an even more blue ocean reflection of that sky. We spent the evening sipping rum and coke (our introduction to Bundy Rum, the local Aussie rum brewed in Bundaberg) and talked with this amazing family until the stars were well set in the sky. I realized while talking with Wayne's parents just how educated and well rounded so many of the Aussies are. I tried my best to soak up as much information from them as I could. Biggest lesson of the night: learned to identify the Southern Cross in the sky, which the constellation on the Australian flag. They taught me how to find the Southern Celestial Pole using the cross, which is the southern hemispheres equivalent of the Northern Star. Now, I will always know which way is south and which is north, no matter what hemisphere I'm lost in..now, if only I would know what to do with that information! This night happened to be 3 years to the day of my Daddy meeting up with the angels, and I could think of no better way to spend it then talking with him under the deep sky of the southern hemisphere with a nearly full moon and the boat gently rocking me to sleep. I like knowing he is up there and gets to be with me on all these adventures. I think he'd be happy for me. Went for a morning sail and Glen was brave enough to let me and Laura man the wheel of the boat for a while as we learned as many sailor terms as we could manage.
Airlie Beach was one night adventure all on its own. After napping in the grass near the beach, we got ready for the night. All I can say about this night is I was introduced to the world of Aussie footy boy culture. Wow. They are a hilarious and very different breed than our American boys. Lesson: there are very distinct sports to be distinguished between. Rugby is not the same as Footy (Australian League Football). What you play largely depends on geography, Queensland region vs. NSW region. Careful there, I'm sure I'm still not even right on the differences and they love their footy.
A bit down the coast is Fraser Island. This place needs its own blog entirely. It's The largest sand island in the world and home of the most natural breed of dingos, who freely roam all over the island. You must take a barge to get there. Only 4WD vehicles are permitted because the beach is literally the highway on the island. Me and Laura, the prepared planners that we are loaded the car up on the barge and set forth on our journey, with smiles on our faces and no idea what we were getting ourselves into. As we drove off the barge, we parked, pulled out the manual for our hired car, found 4WD in the index and began our lesson of the day. After bumping and bouncing the 15 kM to the beach we started picking up a few more lessons. Bar tender: "did you guys let your tires down?" Us: "Huh?" Bar tender (after he stops laughing): "Tires need to be let down to at least 16 psi. Have you gotten bogged yet?" Us: "Huh? What's bogged??" Bar tender (more laughing): "Obviously you have not gotten bogged yet." We learned what bogged meant the next day, three times over:) Camper friends: "You have a hired car on Fraser??" Us: "Yep. Why?" Camper friends: "Hired cars aren't allowed on Fraser!! Oh well, you at least have your drivers permit to drive on the island?" Us: blank stare. Camper friends (more laughter): "Oh man. Well you have your campers permit to camp here?" Us: "Campers permit?? We literally just got on the barge!" Response of the night: "Damn lucky tourists!" I'm sure all those who know me and Laura well are not at all surprised at this point:) Night number 1 we pulled into our campsite off the beach, behind the dunes and turned off the car. Problem: pitch black outside. Dingos. It's only 6:30 at night. Problem solved: stargazing through the windows, a few paper cups of wine and a muse over life. This place is beyond amazing. You literally drive on the beach, with the ocean about 5 feet from your car and water splashing in the window. No lanes on this highway, just signal to say which way your veering, and Speed limit gets up to about 80 km/h. Hiked up Indian head, a super high look out and spotted several sharks, sting rays and sea turtles swimming below. Saw whales playing in the distance. Swam in Lake McKenzie, an unreal crystal clear lake filled with only rainwater. Camped with a group of boys and their family who were amazing and took us in, offered us food, drinks and music. Met Bart Thrupp, an incredible artist on the radio in Oz and will for sure be big soon. Spent another night stargazing and wishing on shooting stars in one of the most beautiful starry skies I've ever seen. Flew kites on the beach with two really cute families we met at the creek. Near death experience: missing our turn inland to catch our barge, driving toward the southern tip of the island without realizing it, no other cars in sight, only 1\4 tank petrol in the car, unbelievably soft sand in which we almost bog about 5 times, sun going down, tide coming up, no signs to indicate where we are on the island. Thankfully, we finally spotted a group of cars at the far tip. We made it on the last barge of the day with only 5 minutes to spare (wrong barge, but we played the sad, lost girls card and they let us on no worries:) Otherwise the night would have included me, Laura and Migaloo either getting bogged and washed into the ocean overnight, or being stranded on the shore with no gas, no people and the dingos. Oy vey.
Favorite part of the Australian highway is the heaps of signs geared toward keeping you awake, like "Rest. Or RIP", "Are we there yet Mum?" or some fairly graphic pics of cars crashing into trees and Cassowarys. Stopped for some free coffee/tea and bikkys (a biscuit is a cookie is a bikky) at the Rest. Revive. Survive. stops run by volunteers. And yes Loz, we slept at the truckers spot and survived!;) Also spotted our first wild kangaroos on that highway. Felt relieved once we saw them and the passenger didn't have to be on "Roo-duty" anymore.
Learned how to surf in Noosa..well Laura learned to surf, I learned how to fall somewhat gracefully back first into the water without hurting myself. Hung out with some local Aussies that taught us all about koalas and their predicament, as well as other things.
Byron Bay was last stop. Little hippie town where you instantly feel a bit lazy and immediately want to curl up on a hammock and take a nice nap. Pretty beach, interesting and funky culture. Slept at the Art Factory hostel in what resembled a covered wagon from the Oregon trail. Ended the trip by waking up at 5 to drive up to the light house and watch the sunrise over the ocean.
The next two weeks were spent in Sydney, doing the touristy biz and meeting Las Aussie mates. No worries, I approve of all of them:) Did the Opera House, sketched the Opera House while sitting in the botanical gardens, ate Roo pizza, walked the harbor bridge, visited Newtown, hung out at Manly beach, went to a barbe and watched the AFL championship with some true footy fans\players, and toured the wine region at Hunter Valley.
The last month of my life feels unreal on countless levels. Truly a soul vacation. I am realizing each day that the saying "the more you learn, the less you know" is not so much an observation but an absolute truth. So now I am Saying goodbye to the world of footy and rugby with its Tim tams, ciders and wedges with sour cream and sweet chili sauce. I've grown accustomed to and will miss my daily encounters with phrases such as "ay, how you goin?", "fancy a drink?", "Aw, no worries, you'll be right" and "that's rubbish!" Now..it's time to learn some Italian:)
As i sit on this plane to Beijing i realize I have so much to learn. I realize the large amount of respect for all those who speak a different language. I smile as the announcement on the speaker was just spoken in Chinese first, followed by English about 5 minutes later, and the girl next to me on the plane is reading a magazine written in pictures and symbols I cannot even fathom to understand. At the airport I patiently waited my in line for the restroom and when it was my turn I walked up to the stall, took a big step up into the stall, closed the door behind me and turned around only to find what looked like a toilet seat with no base, lodged into the ground and two little footprints on either side showing where to position your feet. I promptly did what Stacia does so well, panicked, opened the door and exited within about 3 seconds of walking into the stall. Wallked past the end of the line and out of the bathroom laughing at myself the whole time. Apparently, I'm not culturally savvy enough yet to know what to do with a squat toilet.
Next stop: Rome, Italy. Where I will greet the pasta, wine and gelato with open arms.
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
The adventures of Sla and Migaloo...
The past two weeks were spent traveling the east coast of Oz (a trip I have learned a good portion of Aussies have not even done yet) with my best mate La. We made the trip in a hired Nissan X-trail we affectionately named Migaloo, after the well known white whale of Australia, in symbolic reference to our trek from the northeastern coast to the southeastern coast, migrating alongside our whale friends. The first few days I was able to sit and find time to write far more details about the trip than I was able to capture as the epic road trip continued. Therefore, my first few entries will be a bit lengthy and detailed, whereas from about day 3 and forward, the thoughts will be shortened and plugged with more entertaining material for those who's attention span will be understandably challenged. That being said, bare with me and here we go..
Saturday 9/10/11
Today was an absolutely beautiful day. I felt as I had the unreal opportunity of time traveling as I left the USA in the peak of a blazing hot summer to find myself in a lovely, crisp autumn morning (even though it is technically Spring in Oz). The morning was "fresh" as the Aussies would say for a cool morning. La laughed as I could not help but continually point out the endless shades of flowers along our walk with their colors brighter than even my favorite Seattleite greeneries. We strolled leisurely to Manly Beach (about a 15 minute walk) where I was greeted with a picturesque view of an ocean built up onto the horizon as we came off a hill. The waters were a translucent blend of blues and greens, speckled with surfers and boards catching the early morning waves.
I am sadly reminded every time I strap on my pack and begin an uphill trek of just how out of shape my americanized booty is. My legs are a sore bit of jello and I find myself panting a tad more than preferred, but I gladly take a deep breath, inhale, stretch it out and press onward toward a healthy and active lifestyle (I hope;)
Two lattes later we headed back home to finish packing. Destination: Cairnes. Flight time: 2:25 pm. Now if only we knew which airline we were flying on...
The 2.5 hour plane flight from Sydney was just enough time to drink some red wine and do some prime planning for the road trip. We flew into cairns just as the sun was beginning to set over the eastern coast of Oz. The pink and purple silhouette of the mountains against a tropical backdrop made for a perfect greeting. Renting the car was easy enough. Once I found the steering wheel and re-educated myself on the layout of all the important buttons and handles, learning to drive the car on the wrong side of the road actually proved to be a little less difficult than I had imagined (although it of course came with it's fair share of panicked squeals from mine and Las mouth - thank goodness for insurance!). Parallel parking in front of the hostel was next up, but thanks to life in Hoboken, I parked it like a pro with only a few attempts even from the wrong side of the car:)
I'm sitting in my first hostel on the top bunk, perched above a German who just questioned the "bless you" I doled out to Laura after she sneezed. He says "what's that she says? Bless you?" He's never heard the term but quickly equates it with his more familiar gazuntite and wishes good health to Laura as well. The hostel is both what I expected but also not quite what I expected. Its quiet at the moment, with Laura, me and the German all lounged on our own bunks, doing our own thing. It's a decent sized space with room for 3 more roommates, who have all gone out for the night. Not much on the to do list for the night - just chatting with some backpackers about the must sees and must dos for the road. The make up of tonight's company included primarily German boys with a few French ones mixed in as well.
As I learn about a backpacker's life in a hostel, I'm pondering the life that's up ahead of me for the next 4 months. Wondering if I'm the right fit for the part. I have a thousand questions about the etiquette and entire process and poor La has to sit and listen to me wade through each one of them. Here's hoping I've got what it takes.
9/11/11
I woke up bright and early (a new and quite strange habit I'm developing). It was about 5:30 based on the lack of sunlight. I awoke completely confused with a foggy head from the remnants of the lurking jet lag and a malfunctioning internal clock. I moved around the room quietly - wouldn't want to wake the Germans, Candadian or the unidentified person who arrived late in the night. I'm sure I looked a bit foolish as I'm still learning the etiquette of hostel living, but I didn't see any sense in making enemies that early on. The morning began with a jog along the shore in Cairns.
On the road again, but this time for a longer time frame. Gotta get used to this backwards driving bit. There are new conversions to consider, like the km/hr, Celsius to Farenheit, feet to meters, and as if it wasn't already tricky enough let's talk about the roundabouts that are present at nearly every intersection. Also present are the Roo crossing signs..a tad different than deer crossings:) Biggest lesson of the day: STAY LEFT and you'll be right! Blinker on right, wipers on left. The drive from Cairns to Port Douglas was lined with the ocean on the right and tree covered hills on the left. Quick stop off to climb down the rocky hill and take pictures on a sand island across the water where we met an American Phd student who taught us about Blue Ring Octopus and how to do the sting ray shuffle. Fact: only way to survive a bite from the blue ring is for someone to pump your heart for 90 minutes after the attack. Hope La is up for the challenge if needed!
A few more Km down the road and we stopped off for a crocodile adventure. Here we watched these massive creatures snap their jaws shut as they were fed huge pieces of cow hide and chicken. Fact: when a croc snaps his jaws together it sounds eerily similar to the sound of a gun shot. Learned enough facts about these guys to make me walk on my tip toes with both eyes wide open when near the Australian embankments. I got to check Feed The Roos off my list as I knelt down to pet and fed several little kangaroos and wallabies. Roos: cute. Wallabies: creepy. Spotted several Koalas, but haven't cuddled one yet.
9/12/11
We parked in a tiny parking lot right above the 4 mi beach at Port Douglas. After a fairly decent nighttime ritual of getting ready for bed, we nestled into the car for a good, free night's sleep at the Sla Crocodile Nook car hostel (the first of six). I only woke up a few times to get comfortably rearranged but then drifted back into a nice sleep. I woke around 5:45 with the sun seeping through the windows, brushed my teeth, gathered my sketch pad and journal and headed the 50 meters to the shore. The sand was soft and pale brown and the sun was just rising over the horizon. This is where I stop and breathe deep. I stop and say countless thank yous to my God for all the blessings I am given. I cannot say it enough. Blessed is the overwhelming word of the day.
All day Monday was snorkeling at the Great Barrier Reef! It was brilliant. Boat name: Posiedon. Level of anxiety as I plunged into the deep ocean waters: extremely high. We geared up with snorkels, wet suits and flippers and jumped in feet first. The first time I placed my head underwater I literally gasped (and then choked on the water:) because of just how much natural beauty was in front of me. Think Finding Nemo in hi-def in real life and you may come somewhat close to the reality of what I was seeing. Sooo many colors and sooo many fishes! We also had the opportunity to see 3 whales on our way out to the reef. Quite literally a breathtaking experience. Next up is our trip up the coast to Cape Tribulation: the only place in the world where the rain forest meets the reef....
Saturday 9/10/11
Today was an absolutely beautiful day. I felt as I had the unreal opportunity of time traveling as I left the USA in the peak of a blazing hot summer to find myself in a lovely, crisp autumn morning (even though it is technically Spring in Oz). The morning was "fresh" as the Aussies would say for a cool morning. La laughed as I could not help but continually point out the endless shades of flowers along our walk with their colors brighter than even my favorite Seattleite greeneries. We strolled leisurely to Manly Beach (about a 15 minute walk) where I was greeted with a picturesque view of an ocean built up onto the horizon as we came off a hill. The waters were a translucent blend of blues and greens, speckled with surfers and boards catching the early morning waves.
I am sadly reminded every time I strap on my pack and begin an uphill trek of just how out of shape my americanized booty is. My legs are a sore bit of jello and I find myself panting a tad more than preferred, but I gladly take a deep breath, inhale, stretch it out and press onward toward a healthy and active lifestyle (I hope;)
Two lattes later we headed back home to finish packing. Destination: Cairnes. Flight time: 2:25 pm. Now if only we knew which airline we were flying on...
The 2.5 hour plane flight from Sydney was just enough time to drink some red wine and do some prime planning for the road trip. We flew into cairns just as the sun was beginning to set over the eastern coast of Oz. The pink and purple silhouette of the mountains against a tropical backdrop made for a perfect greeting. Renting the car was easy enough. Once I found the steering wheel and re-educated myself on the layout of all the important buttons and handles, learning to drive the car on the wrong side of the road actually proved to be a little less difficult than I had imagined (although it of course came with it's fair share of panicked squeals from mine and Las mouth - thank goodness for insurance!). Parallel parking in front of the hostel was next up, but thanks to life in Hoboken, I parked it like a pro with only a few attempts even from the wrong side of the car:)
I'm sitting in my first hostel on the top bunk, perched above a German who just questioned the "bless you" I doled out to Laura after she sneezed. He says "what's that she says? Bless you?" He's never heard the term but quickly equates it with his more familiar gazuntite and wishes good health to Laura as well. The hostel is both what I expected but also not quite what I expected. Its quiet at the moment, with Laura, me and the German all lounged on our own bunks, doing our own thing. It's a decent sized space with room for 3 more roommates, who have all gone out for the night. Not much on the to do list for the night - just chatting with some backpackers about the must sees and must dos for the road. The make up of tonight's company included primarily German boys with a few French ones mixed in as well.
As I learn about a backpacker's life in a hostel, I'm pondering the life that's up ahead of me for the next 4 months. Wondering if I'm the right fit for the part. I have a thousand questions about the etiquette and entire process and poor La has to sit and listen to me wade through each one of them. Here's hoping I've got what it takes.
9/11/11
I woke up bright and early (a new and quite strange habit I'm developing). It was about 5:30 based on the lack of sunlight. I awoke completely confused with a foggy head from the remnants of the lurking jet lag and a malfunctioning internal clock. I moved around the room quietly - wouldn't want to wake the Germans, Candadian or the unidentified person who arrived late in the night. I'm sure I looked a bit foolish as I'm still learning the etiquette of hostel living, but I didn't see any sense in making enemies that early on. The morning began with a jog along the shore in Cairns.
On the road again, but this time for a longer time frame. Gotta get used to this backwards driving bit. There are new conversions to consider, like the km/hr, Celsius to Farenheit, feet to meters, and as if it wasn't already tricky enough let's talk about the roundabouts that are present at nearly every intersection. Also present are the Roo crossing signs..a tad different than deer crossings:) Biggest lesson of the day: STAY LEFT and you'll be right! Blinker on right, wipers on left. The drive from Cairns to Port Douglas was lined with the ocean on the right and tree covered hills on the left. Quick stop off to climb down the rocky hill and take pictures on a sand island across the water where we met an American Phd student who taught us about Blue Ring Octopus and how to do the sting ray shuffle. Fact: only way to survive a bite from the blue ring is for someone to pump your heart for 90 minutes after the attack. Hope La is up for the challenge if needed!
A few more Km down the road and we stopped off for a crocodile adventure. Here we watched these massive creatures snap their jaws shut as they were fed huge pieces of cow hide and chicken. Fact: when a croc snaps his jaws together it sounds eerily similar to the sound of a gun shot. Learned enough facts about these guys to make me walk on my tip toes with both eyes wide open when near the Australian embankments. I got to check Feed The Roos off my list as I knelt down to pet and fed several little kangaroos and wallabies. Roos: cute. Wallabies: creepy. Spotted several Koalas, but haven't cuddled one yet.
9/12/11
We parked in a tiny parking lot right above the 4 mi beach at Port Douglas. After a fairly decent nighttime ritual of getting ready for bed, we nestled into the car for a good, free night's sleep at the Sla Crocodile Nook car hostel (the first of six). I only woke up a few times to get comfortably rearranged but then drifted back into a nice sleep. I woke around 5:45 with the sun seeping through the windows, brushed my teeth, gathered my sketch pad and journal and headed the 50 meters to the shore. The sand was soft and pale brown and the sun was just rising over the horizon. This is where I stop and breathe deep. I stop and say countless thank yous to my God for all the blessings I am given. I cannot say it enough. Blessed is the overwhelming word of the day.
All day Monday was snorkeling at the Great Barrier Reef! It was brilliant. Boat name: Posiedon. Level of anxiety as I plunged into the deep ocean waters: extremely high. We geared up with snorkels, wet suits and flippers and jumped in feet first. The first time I placed my head underwater I literally gasped (and then choked on the water:) because of just how much natural beauty was in front of me. Think Finding Nemo in hi-def in real life and you may come somewhat close to the reality of what I was seeing. Sooo many colors and sooo many fishes! We also had the opportunity to see 3 whales on our way out to the reef. Quite literally a breathtaking experience. Next up is our trip up the coast to Cape Tribulation: the only place in the world where the rain forest meets the reef....
Everything we look at has a story..this is mine.
As I am traveling, I take the time to contemplate life and the lessons I am meant to learn. I feel this type of internalized pressure to gain something significant in knowledge and personal growth, which I am certain will happen..but, what I am not certain of is what will happen and what will be the events surrounding this growth. It is this uncertainty and thrill of the unknown that excites my heart, fills my dreams at night and wakes me each morning.
It is a well known cliché that an underlying purpose of traveling is to find ones self. While I am not fully subscribing to that bandwagon idea, I do know that this journey I am on will certainly entitle me to a decent bit of self-discovery. When thinking on what it is I am looking for I have decided my inner quest will be just that..I am searching for what I am searching for. The true challenge is to leave my heart, soul and mind open to all that this life has to offer..to view every opportunity and experience as a blessing, regardless of the emotions that accompany the time..to embrace every moment and encounter as an opportunity for learning and growth. We are powerful beings, capable of making or breaking the spirit of another. I believe that true happiness comes from doing for others, building others up in love and believing in the goodness of others. In order to do this however, I need to know myself better. I want to acknowledge my own strengths and weaknesses, and be content with who I am inside. This is also part of my journey.
I spend a good portion of my days with head phones plugged in, listening to the playlist of what best fits my mood for the day. I have learned however, that the best way to do this is with one headphone in and one out, leaving one ear tuned in to the world surrounding me. For me, this is how I learn the rhythm of this life. I met a musician on Fraser Island who's insight into life was incredibly inspiring. One line from his lyrics reads "when you look back on your score of life, did you dance to that symphony, do you think you got it right?". I want to dance to this life; I don't want to miss a beat.
As I sip my coffee, I am sitting at a table with two lovely elderly ladies who have ordered chips and tea. I can't help but smile when I catch the shy exchange of a smile between one woman and the older gentleman who enters the shop just after her. How beautiful is it that the heart can still blush at the possibility of love beyond youth and even adulthood. My hope is that I never give up on love and I never lose sight of the power of a smile.
My blogs, for those who find them interesting enough to follow:), will be dedicated to my attempt to capture the beauty and mysteries of life as I travel a small portion of the world. The vastness of this world never ceases to amaze me and I hope my words can do justice to all it as to offer in knowledge and experience. Cheers to flying free and living in the moment:)
It is a well known cliché that an underlying purpose of traveling is to find ones self. While I am not fully subscribing to that bandwagon idea, I do know that this journey I am on will certainly entitle me to a decent bit of self-discovery. When thinking on what it is I am looking for I have decided my inner quest will be just that..I am searching for what I am searching for. The true challenge is to leave my heart, soul and mind open to all that this life has to offer..to view every opportunity and experience as a blessing, regardless of the emotions that accompany the time..to embrace every moment and encounter as an opportunity for learning and growth. We are powerful beings, capable of making or breaking the spirit of another. I believe that true happiness comes from doing for others, building others up in love and believing in the goodness of others. In order to do this however, I need to know myself better. I want to acknowledge my own strengths and weaknesses, and be content with who I am inside. This is also part of my journey.
I spend a good portion of my days with head phones plugged in, listening to the playlist of what best fits my mood for the day. I have learned however, that the best way to do this is with one headphone in and one out, leaving one ear tuned in to the world surrounding me. For me, this is how I learn the rhythm of this life. I met a musician on Fraser Island who's insight into life was incredibly inspiring. One line from his lyrics reads "when you look back on your score of life, did you dance to that symphony, do you think you got it right?". I want to dance to this life; I don't want to miss a beat.
As I sip my coffee, I am sitting at a table with two lovely elderly ladies who have ordered chips and tea. I can't help but smile when I catch the shy exchange of a smile between one woman and the older gentleman who enters the shop just after her. How beautiful is it that the heart can still blush at the possibility of love beyond youth and even adulthood. My hope is that I never give up on love and I never lose sight of the power of a smile.
My blogs, for those who find them interesting enough to follow:), will be dedicated to my attempt to capture the beauty and mysteries of life as I travel a small portion of the world. The vastness of this world never ceases to amaze me and I hope my words can do justice to all it as to offer in knowledge and experience. Cheers to flying free and living in the moment:)
Thursday, September 8, 2011
Let it begin...
The plane ride was fabulous and actually went by rather quickly with no problems. The people are truly friendly down under and made the traveling solo experience painless and great. I discovered that international flight food makes me happy, especially when you are given hot tea with cream and sugar in addition to a surprisingly fantastic caramel cream cake, followed by an extra offering of fresh hot cocoa with marshmallows. Sleeping quarters are tight but a wisely purchased neck pillow helped ease the discomfort a bit. I did effectively lose all sense of time while flying and decided that well, if the lights were off and everyone else was sleeping, I suppose I should be too!
If it hadn't been for Ameera, a super friendly South African/Australian girl sitting next to me on the plane I might have been a bit worse off. My phone for whatever reason was not picking up service once I arrived at the airport (and is actually continuing to refuse service at this point), so the detailed emailed instructions to find Laura's place were a mute factor seeing as how I had no way of accessing them. Ameera offered me her phone to call Laura before we deboarded the plane, and I was able to write down my navigational cues to reach my final destination. If it hadn't been for her, I might still be sitting at Sydney International Airport wondering what step to take next!:)
Simple jargon differences: 'give way' instead of 'yield' and 'way out' instead of 'exit'. The accents are rich and inviting. I laugh as Laura easily slips in several of her new Aussie terms in common conversation and smile as her voice turns up with the slightest bit of Australian inflection. Words such as keen, cheeky, clever, straight away, and phrases such as "Oh, I'm not fussed" make their way into regular chatting and amuse me. I've already spotted and heard at least three different birds that I don't recognize, one of which I was almost certain was a flying skunk.
My first night in Australia was spent sitting on Manly wharf, with my best mate and a 7-11 paper cup filled with red wine, musing over life as we listened to the waves crashing into the bay. I feel a tad guilty to report back to my fellow desertonians that the temperature was in the cool 60s with a light mist falling. The sky was vast and held different stars than my American night sky, but the moon remained the same. How incredibly blessed I feel to be taking this journey, to have this opportunity. We are each given one life to live. We have the power to choose to make it great. I can not wait to soak up all the beauty of the one I've been given:)
If it hadn't been for Ameera, a super friendly South African/Australian girl sitting next to me on the plane I might have been a bit worse off. My phone for whatever reason was not picking up service once I arrived at the airport (and is actually continuing to refuse service at this point), so the detailed emailed instructions to find Laura's place were a mute factor seeing as how I had no way of accessing them. Ameera offered me her phone to call Laura before we deboarded the plane, and I was able to write down my navigational cues to reach my final destination. If it hadn't been for her, I might still be sitting at Sydney International Airport wondering what step to take next!:)
Simple jargon differences: 'give way' instead of 'yield' and 'way out' instead of 'exit'. The accents are rich and inviting. I laugh as Laura easily slips in several of her new Aussie terms in common conversation and smile as her voice turns up with the slightest bit of Australian inflection. Words such as keen, cheeky, clever, straight away, and phrases such as "Oh, I'm not fussed" make their way into regular chatting and amuse me. I've already spotted and heard at least three different birds that I don't recognize, one of which I was almost certain was a flying skunk.
My first night in Australia was spent sitting on Manly wharf, with my best mate and a 7-11 paper cup filled with red wine, musing over life as we listened to the waves crashing into the bay. I feel a tad guilty to report back to my fellow desertonians that the temperature was in the cool 60s with a light mist falling. The sky was vast and held different stars than my American night sky, but the moon remained the same. How incredibly blessed I feel to be taking this journey, to have this opportunity. We are each given one life to live. We have the power to choose to make it great. I can not wait to soak up all the beauty of the one I've been given:)
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Live the life you love and love the life you live:)
Three plane rides, one train ride, one bus ride and a short walk later, I have arrived at my destination. With the weight of my pack off my back and the tiniest bit of jet lag, I am sitting comfortably in Laura's apartment in Australia:) And, I'm proud to say I made it with not one directional casualty or mishap!
Let's take it back a step to LAX:
I find myself with my feet temporarily planted on the ground, awaiting my next flight with my passport and my final boarding pass clutched tightly. Here I am, chanting and muttering things to myself (and sometimes not so much to myself) about random flight and gate information, so the details don't slip my mind and I don't accidentally end up on an African or Asian bound plane. I am laughing at the already present, quirky accents emitting from my foreign fellow passengers. I am currently standing as I write this entry, so as to give my legs and back a sort of pre-travel treat of extended stretching time before I fold and squish myself into a 16 hour flight. My mind is racing with thoughts and my journey has not even fully begun. I am about to board my first international flight solo, I am completely out of my element and I am in love with it. Any pre-formed fear or worry that might choose to present itself is met with an equally challenging counterpart of the assurance that this is where I am supposed to be. This is a road toward a personal growth like nothing I've experienced before. My mama prayed for me before I boarded my first plane, that this would be the experience of a lifetime for me and that the angels would protect me and keep me. Well, let's do this guardian angels...I'm ready for adventure:)
Cheers to growth, knowledge and experience.
Let's take it back a step to LAX:
I find myself with my feet temporarily planted on the ground, awaiting my next flight with my passport and my final boarding pass clutched tightly. Here I am, chanting and muttering things to myself (and sometimes not so much to myself) about random flight and gate information, so the details don't slip my mind and I don't accidentally end up on an African or Asian bound plane. I am laughing at the already present, quirky accents emitting from my foreign fellow passengers. I am currently standing as I write this entry, so as to give my legs and back a sort of pre-travel treat of extended stretching time before I fold and squish myself into a 16 hour flight. My mind is racing with thoughts and my journey has not even fully begun. I am about to board my first international flight solo, I am completely out of my element and I am in love with it. Any pre-formed fear or worry that might choose to present itself is met with an equally challenging counterpart of the assurance that this is where I am supposed to be. This is a road toward a personal growth like nothing I've experienced before. My mama prayed for me before I boarded my first plane, that this would be the experience of a lifetime for me and that the angels would protect me and keep me. Well, let's do this guardian angels...I'm ready for adventure:)
Cheers to growth, knowledge and experience.
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