11.11.11

This November 11, 2011, I turned 23. A very auspicious date, and even a full moon. For those of you who know me well, you will know that my birthday is a really symbolic time of year for me. It is this time of year I start to contemplate where I’ve been, what I’ve done and what I’ve achieved. It marks the end of an era but also the beginning of a new one. It is close to Christmas and allows me to realign myself with family values and is also the start of a great transition period before the New Year. I look back a year ago and I was with a man I thought I was going to marry on the other side of the World and not long after I was re-learning to walk after a serious accident.  Three pretty huge things. And a year later, everything is completely different.

My birthday this year coincided with a very huge change in my life; my decision to move home… and stay home for a while. As most of you know, I haven’t ‘lived’ in WA for about a decade as I’ve been off gallivanting around the World since as young as I can remember. My only real friends here are those I’ve known since I was a young child and some other special people I’ve met on visits back. I arrived back in Perth with no networks, no real identity and nothing to lose. I speak differently, I probably act differently and I know I certainly see things differently than most people around me. It’s a weird, but kind of empowering feeling.

Having not shared my 18^th or 21^st with my family and longest-known friends (except for my mother who was pivotal in my 21^st), I felt my birthday as a perfect time for a reunion. My dad organised sunset cocktails and platters of tapas overlooking the ocean with my nearest and dearest. The evening went off without a hitch (except for a bit of wind, but hey – that’s Freo!). I felt blessed to have so many people come and it was a really powerful feeling sharing my birthday with my family and those who have known me longest; a feeling I haven’t experienced in a while. I was really overwhelmed with gratitude. I still am. 

But for some reason this birthday feels even more monumental than it has in the past. Perhaps it is because I’ve come into my own, I am home, and I am the beginning of the next phase in my life. For the first time I don’t feel too old or too young. I feel free to do whatever I want, whenever I want, with whomever I want. I am young enough to enjoy life to the fullest without real responsibility, but I am old enough to do all those things I’ve wanted to do but not felt ready for in the past. I am not worried what other people think of me; I have integrity and I know that. I am not going to hold back if I feel like doing something; who knows how long we have to live. I am simply going with the flow and taking the opportunities that life presents me with, because why not?

The two questions I am asked the most now I’m back are, what are you going to do for work? And, what about love? I am at a crossroads in my career but it’s time to make some money. I am really enjoying not working at the moment and having time to be social and connected to nature, but I am also balancing my time with applying for jobs and working on projects. Unfortunately the job market here in WA is not super compatible with my experience and the selection process takes 6-8 weeks in most cases. But I know everything will work out, and there is no rush. Everything happens at the right time for the right reasons. And that is pretty much the answer to the second question as well. Yes, I am definitely a love person; whether it’s romantic love, or love for my friends or even just love for the present moment. You all know that & I guess that’s why people ask me about it. But I’m enjoying the freedom of not being involved right now. After living in Brazil and the US with men who are generally far different and more open in their approach to dating I get a little bit confused by Australian men.  Maybe I should buy a book so I can read the signs a little better! It also feels like a lot of Australian women are not treated like the goddesses they are, and that concerns me a little. Women are powerful and here to be treasured, so come on Aussie ladies! Command that. It’s all very confusing for me, like I said. So I am just enjoying the moment and as long as I’m not hurting anyone I can’t go wrong there. Another perk of being twenty-three.

So, that was my 11.11.11. A turning point, the beginning of my Australian life, my embracement of being in my 20s, a reunion and reestablishment, and living it up and finding this beautiful inner freedom. You never know where the opportunities that came along are going to take you, and I’m feeling really great about that.

Technology-Free Thursday

I’ve been back in Australia for a few weeks now and life is bloody beaut, as one would say here. Life has been all about friends, family and special moments. I guess my life seems to be about that wherever I am though. However, there is one big difference that has come as a little shock to me after living on the remote Catalina Island. That difference is technology.

Let’s take a step back in time to a few weeks ago. I was on an island with no roads, internet that took an hour to download my emails and all day to upload pictures on facebook and there was certainly no mobile reception. There was a TV but unless I was a baseball loving male I never got anywhere near the remote, and hence never watched TV. My computer is a netbook and doesn’t have space for a DVD/CD player to even watch movies. I had no technology. I lived with 30ish people in a very isolated, secluded part of the island and so the notion of ‘instant messaging’ existed by walking down to the Lodge where people would be knitting, playing guitar, drinking beer, reading, singing, laughing, cleaning, studying, listening to music or getting ready to go on some adventure. If I wasn’t satiated with communication from my colleagues and friends, my job involved roughly 10 hours a day interacting with sometimes over 100 kids. I even shared a room with someone, so I could wake up in the middle of the night and talk to them if I wanted to. There was no shortage of sociability despite the lack of technology.

So now I find myself in the exact opposite situation. I’m alone most of the time, and have to actively search out people and social situations. At first the alone time was amazing. Beach meditations, runs along the beach, walks in the park, reading books, creating art, cooking, sleeping. I was really able to be in my zone. But I have to say, the novelty has worn off. I like people. I like relating to people, I like connecting to people, I like understanding people, I like loving people, I like having physical relationships, I like hearing people’s voices and opinions and thoughts. So… I started using technology again. All the time. I have an iPhone, so my Skype, messaging, facebook, etc, was there, in my pocket 24/7. I enjoy it because I get that social stimulation and connect and communicate with the people I’m thinking about even though they might be at work or somewhere else afar. But I feel a little frustrated with the lack of real, physical communication; seeing someone’s smile when they laugh or just hearing their voice.

So I decided to have a technology free day, in an increasingly technology-reliant world. The main purpose was to see how life would be without instant communication, but of course other technology as well. If I could live life how they did it twenty years ago or back on the island. I hadn’t been sleeping well and I was feeling that I was lacking a certain peace I used to have by being out in nature all the time, so a technology free day seemed to be a good way to re-ground myself.

The day started at sunrise. I woke up to the sun and looked at my analog clock, 5.30am. Thinking about what I was going to do for the day, I started to wonder how I was going to make this work. I crawled into my mum’s bed and confessed “I’m already regretting this decision to have a technology-free day”, 6am.

 I went to the beach for a run. Wait, does an ipod count as technology? Dang. At least it’s the beach, so the crashing waves provide for song. I took my snorkel down and went for a swim afterwards. The sandy bottom was covered in sea stars. Their tracks had made a pattern that reminds me of the flower of life pattern. Beautiful flowers everywhere made of out the pantaradial shape of sea-stars. It was breath-taking; I’ve never seen anything like it. My first thoughts, I want to take a photo and capture this and share it. Oh but wait, I can’t use my digital camera. I realised at this moment I had a serious desire to share beautiful moments with people. That is not to say I am not able to just be with the beauty and appreciate it, because being in the moment is my number 1 priority. But ultimately, I wish someone I care about was there with me so I could be in this special moment with them. Realisation time, 7.30am. Even though I was alone I still wanted to share, so I caught crabs climbing over the pier pilings and picked up sea stars for little kids swimming and started teaching them the hidden creatures that live in what looks like a barren white sandy beach. To see their eyes light up was rewarding enough; I forgot about my camera.

I took all my interactions by chance and just popped around people’s houses and hoped they were home. I bought a ukulele to make my own music. The ukulele, very conveniently, came with a CD to learn how to play it, and hence I had to quite hilariously try and teach myself from a book. I thought about texting friends to see which song I should learn, or search for chords on the internet, but alas that was out of the question too. I searched for a new battery for my dying film camera so I could take digital-less photos, but apparently most shops don’t sell batteries from the 80s anymore. I cleaned my room. I read. It was raining so I was confined to the house & by about 5pm I was starting to get a little anxious as if I was having withdrawals. I was craving stimulation; craving communication. I’m one of those people who always say ‘I like technology, but don’t need it’. By the afternoon I was wondering whether this was a big fat lie, and I was a cold hard addict after two weeks of technology back in my life.

Thank God Chadia was home when I left my granny flat and went up to the house. She was, however, watching a movie and I resisted joining in. She very kindly turned it off and we went for a walk with the dog to the shops and dropped some DVDs back. We cooked and baked and then sat around the table talking and it was a beautiful, peaceful evening without technology. Dad came home later and lasted an hour or so then turned on the News, and that was my cue to leave. I’d done it. I made it through the day without technology. An afternoon nap made it hard to fall asleep, so I decided, what the heck, and put some music on and laid in bed day-dreaming until the day dreams became night dreams and I ventured off into a far away, technology-free place.

Now, the next day, I lay here in bed listening to Riders on the Storm and Bossa Nova as the rain pelts on my tin roof and the sun creeps in through my open door and windows. I’m certainly feeling more grounded and things are back in perspective for me.  Perhaps I’ll make this a weekly thing. 

Settling back into Australian life.

I’m sitting in at one of Perth’s iconic landmarks, the Swan Bell Tower. It’s a rather long story as to why I’m here but given that this is my first blog post back in Perth, I can’t really think of a more iconic place to write it really. I’d forgotten about how intense Perth’s weather is. Overwhelmingly sunny one minute then determined winds straight off the vast Indian Ocean take over the next minute. It’s powerful, and I like it. Honestly, I’m feeling some pressure to write this blog post, and perhaps that is why I’ve been putting it off. Everyone is waiting for the answer to the inevitable question, so what’s it like to be home?

I don’t really know how to answer it, though. It’s good. It’s different.

Leaving Australia the last time was really about spreading my wings finally and leaving the nest. I had to let go of everything I knew and flow down that often tumultuous river called world travel… and life. Yes I was enlightened, yes I became more aware of who I am, yes I learnt a lot of lessons and overcame a lot of challenges, yes I found gratitude in every waking moment, yes, yes, yes. If you’ve been following my blog at all, you know all that already. So after all that, I find myself back in a place I call home and I remember every street and every café and everything feels very familiar. But everything is different. Well, actually, Perth is notorious for being a little slow and backward so I can’t really say that Perth has changed at all. But everything is different, because my experience and my perceptions of it are different. I was watching a documentary briefly on kanagaroos the day after I arrived. The Australian animal. And what an incredible animal it is. The way it moves, iss behaviour, the way it has adapted to living in its natural environment. I’d never even noticed, my whole life, how bloody cool this endemic marsupial really is. I feel like a tourist again in my own city, learning and absorbing it all again for the first time. I feel grounded. I feel lighter.

I started realising how severely my perceptions had changed at Hong Kong when I heard Australian accents. For a long time I’ve been the only one, and actually, as I’m frequently told by my Australian friends and family, I don’t even sound Australian anymore. I’m speaking some universal dialect I guess. A bit of German, Norwegian, Brazilian Portuguese, American, British and Australian; a linguistically mixed bag. The biggest reverse-culture shock came from hearing kids, though. After interacting with thousands of American children, hearing little Aussie ankle-biters was endearing beyond all belief. Adorable. I sat on the plane observing all the Australians with their distinct crows-feet eye wrinkles from the deathly southern hemisphere sun, their relatively lax dress sense and the softness and upward inflection in their voice talking to tourists sitting in the seats next to them. I remember thinking, these are my people. I’m so charmed by my (maternal) family and how they truly embody all that is Australian, and again I think, these are my people. It makes me hungry to re-establish my roots here. But I can never lose my global-citizenship passport; it’s tattooed on my soul. In some ways I feel like an outsider now, but in others I feel more connected because of the openness and objectiveness and general awareness I have to my ‘sense of place’ here… at home. 

So what’s it feel like to be home, you reiterate? Well it excites me. Tele is riddled with un-PC jokes, live coverage of the Queen’s visit, science and cultural education shows that use the word “groovey”, ads which subliminally educate our youth about healthy lifestyles and broadcasting stations use roman numerals for dates. I feel confused. Housewives run the check-outs at supermarkets and middle-class white men and women are the labourers and workers at the airport instead of Mexicans, the illegal or the illiterate. I’m surprised. Australia has half-flush to save water toilets and power-saving switches on power outlets to conserve energy and bigger, more developed countries don’t. I’m disappointed sometimes. I’d idealized Australia as a clean and beautiful country, and whilst its natural beauty is amazing the streets and beaches are dirtier and more polluted than I remember and there is little attention to detail in planning and architecture. I feel nourished. I am eating raw, home-grown and local food again and my body and conscience are thanking me for it. But above all I’d say I’m just feeling happy.

I am turning 23 in a few weeks (11/11/11) and I am so grateful to have seen and done and lived and loved all that I have. My spirit feels young and unburdened by the pressures of life. Conversely, my soul feels old and wise and content that I can thoroughly enjoy my youth with all the freedom of a 23 year old. Being back in Australia is just the beginning of a whole new adventure. 

Hong Kong Layover.

One of my favourite parts about airports is all the time you have to sit and wait. There are very few moments in life (at least in my life) where you can just sit and wait. Hong Kong International Airport is a fantastic place to sit and wait. In fact, they even have special lounges designed for making the most out of your time sitting and waiting. For a reasonable fee, you can gain entry into luxurious ‘Traveler’s Lounges’ located around the airport. I purchased the 5 hour package, and here I sit listening to jazz in a dim-lit, rather charming room. I just had a shower (a much, much, much needed shower – see last blog post), a complimentary massage and I am feeling quite content from a traditional Chinese buffet. In a while I might go and get a complimentary drink from the bar and take a nap in the sleep carriages provided. Jealous much? Myself 2 hours ago would have been. When I initially landed in Hong Kong, I never thought I would make it to Perth. I was hungover, my skin felt oily (you know that oil your body only seems to produce in aeroplanes – it makes your hair and skin feel like you haven’t showered in days), I was even more tired than before my ‘nap’ on the plane and, all in all, I just felt like crawling up into a ball somewhere and calling it quits. And then… (drum roll)… I found the Travelers Lounge. So, here I sit and wait, with a big grin on my face; fresh skin, clean hair, brushed teeth, relaxed shoulders and a happy belly. Australians and Kiwis are everywhere and it’s a weird sensation not being the only one with an accent anymore. I’m starting to realise that I am going to have to prepare myself for a reverse-culture shock. I’ve been ‘foreign’ for 1.5 years and now I have to drop that identity completely. I still have a few hours until my flight leaves and I am grateful this leg of the journey is a bit shorter than the last. It’s now less than 12 hours until I’ll be home and I get to start the rest of my life again... again. For the time being though, I am going to embrace this opportunity to just sit and wait and enjoy doing exactly that. Thank you Hong Kong. 

Farewell United States.

The last 24 hours have been hilarious. I am sitting at LAX and I have, as they say, ‘had a few too many’. Why? Well, I just came from a bar in Venice Beach where perhaps I drank a little too many boutique brews. Before that I was at an art gallery opening where there was perhaps a little too much free wine. Before that I was at LACMA (Los Angeles County Museum of Art) being challenged by Edward Keinholz’s ‘Five Car Stud’. A step back in time before that, I was in West Hollywood strolling the streets and drinking desperately needed coffee after being awake for 36+ hours. My journey goes back farther to Hollywood Hills and a tour on Sunset Boulevard. Prior to all of that, I enjoyed my last meal in the United States of America at “In-and-Out Burger” where I received some stickers and a hat in celebration of my first time at this iconic fast food chain. And all this started when my dear friend Selby, from my time in Berkeley, picked me up from the Long Beach Ferry Terminal. My current state of intoxication, however, comes from what Selby describes as the “shampoo effect”. The effect being that it is much easier for your hair to soap up the second time you wash it because there is still residue from the first wash. Well that is what happened to me in regards to continuing to ‘celebrate’ multiple days in a row. Yesterday, last night and today; my last moments on Catalina and in the United States, have been one of the most memorable times. But perhaps I should go back in time a little and explain.

Since my last blog post I have enjoyed a constant celebration and farewell party. It started with a glorious dinner at the Avalon Grille, Avalon’s premier upper-end restaurant, as a way to say goodbye. But with still two weeks until I departed, it’s needless to say that the celebrations did not end there. I spent many memorable moments with my CIMI family such as watching the sunset on the backside of the island and playing in the ocean; soaking up all that is Catalina. I was on Mama Ocean’s good side before I left and was graced with goodbyes from all my oceanic friends. The octopuses came out to play, the bioluminescence was mind-blowing for weeks, chondrichthyes were inquisitive and less timid than normal and even the rare and skittish Risso dolphins, sea lions and hundreds of both common and bottleness dolphins sent me off on my last day. The weather was surreal, the water crystal clear and the air fresh. My friends threw a huge “American-themed” going away party where there was a giant slip’n’slide into the ocean, pier-jumping, volleyball, margarita slushies, Frisbee-golf, American-style cuisine catering, banjo playing and 4th-of-July-esque costumes! Friends from all three camps, Toyon Bay, Fox Landing and Cherry Cove, came and I felt completely blessed to have my incredible extended family all in one place, one last time. At this point, I not only felt like I had been super spoilt and loved, but I started to feel at peace with leaving and gratitude was the emotion I most associated with. Simultaneously, however, I was starting to check-out as a way of not getting too emotional and down about the fact that all of the incredible moments I was living on Catalina, day by day, were about to become nothing but memories. I spent a lot of time in hiding and alone, getting my things together – mainly my head. In hindsight I slightly regret not expressing my love more to my friends and family in those last few days.

My last day of work was Friday (yesterday), and I couldn’t have received a better farewell from my kids. I received a T-shirt with all their names signed on it, one boy proposed at campfire, I was given earrings from another student, I have already received touching emails from the kids, and they were continuously calling out my name and chanting “Aussie, Aussie, Aussie, Oi, Oi, Oi” in celebration. It was very special. After the kids left, the tears started as I packed my final belongings and it started to hit me what was happening. I had already said farewell to my boss and other friends who had left the island early to go to a wedding, and they gifted me with a beautiful “Yani’s Pocket Catalina” photobook of my time there. They also made me a traditional pumpkin pie because I’d never had it before and it is very ironically American this time of year. It was beautiful. Saying the first round of goodbyes was fairly awkward as it didn’t feel real yet, but I had been saying farewell for the two weeks prior so it certainly made the final goodbyes a lot easier. Some of my best friends from Toyon kayaked through the cold fog to come and spend my very last night with me and that is when the ‘party’ (that still continues) started. I never went to sleep as I stayed up to watch the sunrise from on top of the cliff edge, so aside from being somewhat drunk I am also completely delirious from tiredness. I said farewell to everyone one last time and went into crying-shock as I left Fox Landing for the last time on the boat. It was a feeling I haven’t felt in a long time; a feeling I haven’t felt since I left Australia 1.5 years ago. Luckily, my friend Katie caught the ferry over with me and distracted me from falling apart completely. And that is when Selby came and picked me up and now we come full circle.  

My last blog post was a little more sentimental in conveying my emotions about leaving the US, and my less-than-sober state is probably pivotal in preventing me from saying anything too poetic or emotional. However, I was talking to my dad on Skype before I left and he was asking me how I was feeling. I said sad, of course, excited too. I explained how it doesn’t feel real and actually my entire time away since I left never felt real anyway so I’m just trying to present in every moment and live this beautiful dream called life. 

So cheers to waking up in Hong Kong with an enormous hangover and cheers to the nice customs guards and ground staff that let me through to the next phase in my never-ending journey, despite very embarrassing stumbling and slurring. Kidding. Sort of, not really. 

1.5years across every ocean... It's time to go home.

My first and most likely my last thunderstorm on Catalina Island just struck. It’s a gloomy Friday morning and I have a day off. I don’t get days off very often and when I do I am usually living up every moment; SCUBA diving, kayaking, paddle-boarding, and hiking, or perhaps all of them mixed into one crazy adventure. My time on Catalina has been eventful, rewarding and empowering to say the least. But today is calm. I took a boat into the main town Avalon to run errands. I am waiting for my ride home. A small Boston Whaler, the unsinkable boat, will pick me up and no doubt leave me quite wet to the tumultuous waves in an hour. There is no better place to wait than CC Ghallagers. CC’s is an artsy wine, sake and chocolate bar filled with locally made cakes, perfumes and art pieces. It is classy, yet comfortable. By my side is a list of postcards I am yet to write, a hot chocolate and some fresh orchids sitting on the table. I just took a stroll down the streets of Avalon which are only inhabited by golf-carts, latino families, a crazy artist/sailor or two and some all-too-wealthy tourists.  The houses are something cute and cottage-like out of a novel and the warm, steamy streets smell of fresh rain. American flags fly above every door step, and coincidentally I am wearing an over-sized American-bikini print tee-shirt and a contrasting Chanel bag. The attention to detail and the beauty of the side-walks here in the US is something I’ve commented on before. There is an incredible live-ability aspect to the US. In some ways it makes me want to stay here forever and live in a gorgeous little neighbourhood and enjoy the simple pleasures and luxuries of life.

Alas, however, my American Dream is coming to an end. My Visa is going to cost more than I’ll earn to renew it from the US and hence I am biting the bullet and moving home. This realization came as a shock to me at first. I had planned to stay in the US until mid-year next year with a visit home over Christmas. It took some time to adjust to my ‘decision’ to leave, albeit the lack of actual choice in the matter.  Now, after some time to reflect and contemplate, I am thoroughly excited about moving forward. Fate always has a way of making sure we stick on track with our life purpose.

I’ve been thinking about what I want to do when I go home; what my abovementioned ‘life-purpose’ really is. I am still toying with the idea of moving to Europe and completing some kind of graduate program over there. I love the intensity of the history and traditions in Europe. Not only that, I feel they’re compatible with my own beliefs and values in most cases. When you’re away from home it’s easy to idealise ‘home’, and I have been guilty of that many times since I left 1.5years ago. However, there is a longing deep down in me that wants to stay put at ‘home’ and really build a life for myself. I promised myself that I would enjoy my 20s to discover the World. But I find myself at 22 wanting to settle down. How did this happen?

Along the way in my travels this time round, I started to realise that it doesn’t really matter where you are in the World. Everywhere is unique and special and everywhere will teach you a different life lesson in some capacity of another. However, deep-rooted at the bottom of every lesson is a lesson that teaches us to embrace ourselves and be at peace with whatever exists around us. For me, the ocean, family, historical traditions and etiquettes, the natural world, animals, weather, purity in relationships and a sense of home are fundamentals. I want to take dance classes, do yoga every morning, swim, surf, dive and play in the ocean, act in a play or two, eat local and organic food, speak well and enjoy good manners, get involved in my local politics and know my neighbours names – and heck I want to bake them cookies too! All of these things are things I want and I’ve realised that it does not matter where in the World I am, I still want these things. And most of all, I don’t want to have to start again… again. I’ve been travelling and starting again since I was 12.

When I go home, I will be celebrating my birthday on the 11/11/11 and this will be the second time I’ve celebrated my birthday at home with my family in 10 years. Given I’m only turning 23, this is not really ‘normal’. I also missed my 18th and 21st with my family, and I can’t remember the last time I celebrate my mum or dads birthday with them either; I want to make up for lost family time.

As I sit and contemplate, I listen to some Spanish guitar in the background, smell those orchids in front of me and consider ordering some sushi. Perhaps the answer is to find and build my base like I’m longing for, and travel not for life but for fun and bring the cultures home to me. Speaking of building my life, I must address the fact I left home as a woman on a quest for love and life abroad and alas I coming home solo. Whilst breaking up with Di was liberating in some ways, I feel very emotional thinking about the journey we undertook and that I will not be carrying on this journey anymore. I miss him a lot, it’s true. We had a very special love and I will always be grateful for that. That said, I also feel very complete and whilst I don’t think finding another companion at this stage is right for me (unless it’s a dog!) I feel more empowered as a single woman than I have my whole life. Watch out World, there isn’t anything holding me back.

I packed up all my belongings and sent them home, threw away 2 large suitcases of accumulated ‘things’ and all I am left with one 23kg suitcase like I started with. The contents are completely different. I have to say, living light is so grounding. I don’t feel weighted or burdened by belongings; a weight I never knew I was carrying until it was gone. Throwing away and packing up ‘my things’ (note how we feel the need to possess) was almost a spiritually enlightening ritual. The memories attached with each ‘thing’ forced me to stop and sit on my bed and reminisce. It feels like only yesterday I was in Norway looking out at the sun at 2am breathing in the freshest air I’ve ever breathed, or a week ago I was sitting with my grandparents in Germany embellishing in kaffe und kuchen. Brazil… oh Brazil. Even though Brazil was overwhelming for me in far too many ways, culturally and emotionally, I am longing to go back to Fabiano’s apartment in Curitiba or stop at a roadhouse and order pao de queijo. What a journey. I have been in the US for over one whole year now. I find it incomprehensible I was staying with Di in a hippy Berkeley backpackers, two days later I was bringing my bed home in a taxi from Ikea and a few months after that I was re-learning to walk after a nasty ski accident, then I was trolling the streets working for environmental causes in San Fran and since then I’ve been playing with dolphins almost every day whilst changing the lives of hundreds of American children. Wow.

So I ask myself – 1.5 years abroad, have I changed? Have I learned? Have I grown? Yes. Absolutely. Am I ready to go home? Sure. Am I ready to say goodbye to it all? No, never, because even though my current journey is ending, it is only the beginning of the next one. And so my story goes on, across every ocean. 

Summer in the USA!

As I sip some organic jasmine tea in a biodegradable cup, I realise that I am alone for the first time in a long time. And dang, it feels good. I worked every single day this summer for over two months straight, with only Saturday afternoons off. I know many of you laugh when I say ‘work’ as most of my pictures on facebook are mostly of me underwater, on a boat, up a mountain or on a slippery slide. But my job is actually very high energy, both emotionally and physically, and sometimes I find myself working from 6am until 10pm at night. Actually, I should rephrase that – every second day or so I find myself working from 6am-10pm at night. And I wouldn’t have it any other way. It’s been almost a 2 months since the summer season ended and I am back to working just two or so weeks straight with a couple of days break in between the next two week stint. The point, as you can see, is my life does not permit me to spend much contemplative time to sit, think and write. Not only that, I am living some kind of fairytale life that I just feel bad for bragging about to all you poor souls who don’t get to play with dolphins every day. Island life is another story. The World suddenly becomes the island. Friends, romances, trials and tribulations – what happens on the island stays on the island. There really should be a movie about it, “CIMI Staff Exposed”. It becomes hard to relate to those outside of this little bubble. It also takes time; time that does not exist.

Hence, I am finally writing about my summer on the island a few months after it passed. Summer was a time at Catalina Island Marine Institute (CIMI) where there was new energy; a change in routine, a work-hard play-hard attitude was maintained. Every day, between breaks or as soon as we were off the clock we would jump in the ocean. We would hike 10miles (16km) into town up rugged terrain, all 16 of us, with bottles of wine and take over the town. We would do cartwheels on paddleboards and play with octopuses in the kelp below. We would kayak to the otherside of the island with surfboards in tow and camp on the beach. We would dive with Giant Black Sea Bass 70ft under the water’s  surface before breakfast. Between the afternoon shift and dinner the girls would dance their butts off to Yoga Booty Ballet DVDs in the Marine Mammals hall. There were times I’ll never forget, and times that I’ll never remember! Ha. Summer on Catalina was one of the highlights of my life, and perhaps you can think of it as a good thing I never blogged about it because I was too absorbed in it! I came to realise over the summer that these moments I’m living here in this little island dream world are the memories I’ll one day cherish as some of the best in my life. The camaraderie or working together so closely, every day, and making the most of every moment brought me very close to my colleagues over the summer and it’s easy for me to say I have made some friends for life. Despite my lack of communication over the summer, I took lots of pictures, and here are some happy snaps that summarise some of the moments I shared with some of the most amazing people I’ll ever meet.

Oh, Summer in the USA. 

New York, New York!

The Big Apple. I'm still not sure why they call it that, but man is New York overwhelming. What a place! The sidewalks buzz continuously 24/7. We arrived at LaGuardia airport and took a car service to our hotel in downtown Manhattan, right next to the Empire State Building. The air was humid and thick and we were pretty tired after a long red-eye flight. We dropped our bags off and got straight on a tour bus to give us some idea of this overwhelming island. The skyline was covered in skyscrapers and a mix between beautiful old Parisian influenced architecture and 20th century fire escapes. There were people everywhere, all the time. We toured downtown and found ourselves in Times Square in the midst of a tropical thunderstorm. It rained and rained non-stop. Luckily we had been given incredibly dorky rain ponchos by the tour bus. We explored the city for the remainder and the afternoon and then went to bed early in an attempt to conserve some energy for our very long to-do list.

Our first full day in New York found us lining up in Times Square to purchase discounted tickets to various Broadway shows. We then went to Macy's, the Worlds Largest Store, and shopped to our hearts content. Before we knew it we were taking our VIP seats at the Imperial Theatre watching Billy Elliot, the musical on Broadway. I cried the entire time and was absolutely blown away. I wished so much that I could have shared that moment with everyone in my life but can only beg you to go and see it. I have never seen anything like it before in my life. My first Broadway show was obviously quite the hit in my books.

Later that night mum and I headed out to the Upper East Side and drank cocktails at one of NY's loveliest and classiest venues, the Bemelins Bar at the Carlyle Hotel. We had our own private jazz band and came out a few too many pennies poorer and a fair bit more intoxicated. One of the best highlights of our whole trip!

The next morning we jumped on a tour bus and hit uptown (Upper West, Upper East and Harlem). We jumped off at Central Park on the Upper East and played with toy sailboats in the lake and visited the Met (The Metropolitan Art Museum). After lunch we headed to the Lion King on Broadway and were yet again blown away by the magnificance of the show. Coincidentally, both were produced by Elton John. Unfortunately, though, we were both incredibly hung-over and tired that we couldn't enjoy it to its fullest extent. Was nonetheless breath-taking. Later that night we climbed the Empire State Building and sunset and enjoyed the illuminated views of Manhattan Island. What a place!

We enjoyed our last day in New York by walking across the Brooklyn Bridge, standing in line for an hour all to enjoy 'New Yorks Best Pizza', Grimaldis. It was indeed the best pizza I've ever eaten, and well worth the wait. We also did some last minute shopping and picked up all the goodies we had been eyeing off over the last 2 days. We finished up our last afternoon in New York by taking the subway and catching the Staten Island ferry past the Statue of Liberty. We took a car service back to the airport later that evening and headed back to Californ-I-A for the remainder of our road trip over there. Oh New York, New York. You definitely swept me off my feet & stole my heart.