Airport

It's at least 3 hours past my bedtime and another hour until the plane takes off, and after all the heat in Darwin, my brain is pretty fried. The thermostats swore it was barely 80 F and only 50% humidity, but the intensity of the sun added at least 10 degrees and 20 percent. 

Some things I think I learned: 

-Before embarking on a trip, accept that you will probably not have any coffee or alcohol quite the way you like it until you're back home and don't waste any more energy worrying about it once your plane/boat/train gets going 

-If you want to meet people you like, just start doing the things you like and don't worry about anything else 

-I am a completely different person now than I was two and a half years ago when I went to Asia, which is great because I wanted to change, but now I have to find a happy medium.

-In addition, I've accumulated a plethora of not-quite-PC conclusions on being a solo female traveler. Buy me a (dark, coffee-flavored, Oregon-brewed, >8% ABV) beer and I'll tell you all about it! 

Leaving Cairns

It's 5:36 in the morning as I wait for the airport shuttle, safe from the rain under a wooden gazebo roof and safe from the noises of the jungle in the comforts of civilization. Sitting here in silence, watching the ghastly color of the pre-dusk sky peek through the palm trees, this is the first time my experience has felt remotely exotic and out of the ordinary. Sure, it has been beautiful, peaceful, exciting, breathtaking, what have you - but nothing has felt wild, unknown, unchartered, or even uncomfortably different or unusual.

These sensations of wildness, the sounds of rain against the roof and the knot in the pit of my stomach at the thought of renting a left-driving car in a mere few hours make my departure from Cairns bittersweet. It is another milestone that marks the bearing end of my trip, and this milestone is more significant than Greyhounding it up the east coast and knowing I will see familiar faces along the way. This is another plunge into the unknown for my final week, something I have yet to learn to embrace. But because it is scary, I know that it is something I must do - and the hope of better weather is not such a bad incentive! 

[backlog] Labels and Elements

I wrote this in Brisbane, while sunning, sneakily enjoying a hard cider, and openly enjoying a cheese sandwich on the riverbank.

July 18.  There are a few things that I miss about home and can't have right now, and that's not necessarily a bad thing.  I mean, I could very easily make it a bad thing, but instead I'm going to step back and observe what these feelings of longing say about me.

I miss my labels.  Surprised? I should expect so.  We work so hard to break free of the boxes that others put us into - in fact, I think one of the main reasons we travel is to get out of our everyday  context and allow people to just perceive us as we are.

But I miss having the culture that comes with my labels! I chose them carefully, and by doing this, I also chose the groups of people that I interact with.  It is especially strange to be in a big city that is well suited for young people and be on the outside of the groups where I usually belong.  Here, I am not a climber.  I am not a city biker.  Nor am I an engineer, a Stanford grad, or a consultant.

Instead, I am first of all a woman, then a tourist, and then an American - all of these come with their own stigmas.  If you spend a few minutes talking to me, you will realize that I am slightly older than all of the 18 years I look and also a bit of a treehugger, considering that I didn't bring any jeans (or stilettos or make-up) with me and considering that I got extremely claustrophobic in Sydney.  

Even though these labels are slightly nicer than just being perceived as a Yankee teenager, when becoming travelers, we also become sort of faceless.  By being good travelers, we can improve the tourist image abroad, but we lose our cultural niches because we are never in one place long enough to find and re-establish it.  This is an important experience! It is liberating to be faceless.  It is educational to see the differences between who we are at home and abroad, and we can better remember our culture by living through the absence of it.

 The experience is even stranger in a place like Brisbane than in a place like Nepal - my favorite example.  In Nepal, people are more different from me, so I try to learn how they are and perhaps try to be like them so that I can better understand these differences.  Here in Brisbane, the locals are quite like me, but I am not like them because I am just passing through, temporarily stripped of the items and activities that I would have in common with them if I was in my own context. But being outside of that context forces you to get creative and think outside of your typical habits.  Having a poor wifi connection in your hostel and a much smaller bank of friendly acquaintances to draw on forces you to get the hell off your phone and go do things.  New things, in a new place, alone.

For example, right now I am picnicking on the bank of the Brisbane river, illegally drinking a hard cider that is also slightly out of its element, disguised in can instead of bottle form.  It's hard to know if I would go on an outing like this at home on a random Saturday afternoon because when I didn't have homework, I was usually off on a backpacking trip.  I think it's easy to get caught up in the briefness of the weekend and feel like you always have to be doing something - be it an errand or something fun. That's the problem with travel agencies as well - they try to make you feel like you have to see everything, do everything, and ideally have a paid expert on hand to plan and orchestrate the whole thing.  I have been so guilty of overplanning for the entire past year that I've been missing out on the simple pleasures of enjoying a lazy Saturday afternoon with all the space I need to think, to create, and not have a care in the world.  Hopefully I can capture some of this Aussie laid-backness and take it back to my real life!

Cairns

Watching Cairns wake up at the lovely time of 6:30 AM after taking my last overnight bus while sipping a delicious cappuccino in the one of the only open joints at this hour and relishing my first work email of the month. Not bad at all! 

Jumping into the unknown for six weeks along a straight, settled, San Francisco line was displacing and I felt terribly far and enjoying the unfamiliar territory, which made me be extremely present in my surroundings. Now with less than two weeks left before heading back to the states and more consistent contact from home, I seem to have put all the pieces of the world back into their places, which is equally weird and unusual. I can't say that being fully nomadic hasn't been exhausting, but traveling is basically the best thing you can do with your time in money, so the return home will definitely be bittersweet. 

Well, as I used to console myself in India, I'm leaving tomorrow and I'm not leaving the day after, so as far as I'm concerned, it's irrelevant! 

[backlog] Sydney, Third Impression

I wrote this while shivering in line for a horribly nauseating, yet nonetheless extremely satisfying, whale watching tour.

July 7.  Any place can be small and personal once you let it.  The independent places that have all their shit together seem intimidating because they've got no missing puzzle piece whose role you can assume.  But once you've walked the same block a few times and learned the places and faces you'll see around the corner, a place begins to shrink down to its most endearing traits. 

The process of personalization with the transient elements of my experience - namely, the other backpackers, is also interesting.  Knowing me, it's not too surprising that in a short span of time I've found so many people who it's really hard to say goodbye to.  I am surprised, though, how quick people can be to share personal details of their background.  So the question is - do we share our personal details because we feel anonymous or because we need to feel less anonymous?  Do we freely disclose information because it doesn't really matter, or because we need to feel more connected when we are taken out of context a gazillion miles from home? 

I did a lot of thinking on this topic and now I'm going to leave it to you to figure out your personal conclusion. How long do you think you could travel alone while remaining anonymous and only playing very brief roles in other travelers' stories? What information and personal anecdotes would you feel comfortable sharing with people and what would your purpose be in doing so?
 

Love Letter to the Ocean

The mountains are my home, but the ocean is my Mecca.  It is my spiritual home.  Going into the water is a pilgrimage for me. Ever since I got old enough that my parents stopped trying to talk me out of risking hypothermia by diving into glacial waters in subzero temperatures, I can count on one hand the number of times that I did not go into the water when I had the opportunity.  The ocean has more power and greatness than I could ever achieve.  Swimming in its waves is a love affair.  It is different every time.  Sometimes it is calm like a lake, and I can stand still and stare clear to infinity over the surface of the water.  Other times, the wind and waves conspire to create a turbulent obstacle course; white crests boiling over the water's edge and playing dodgeball with me. 

In either case, swimming out from shore is a dangerous game of vertigo.  Vertigo is not our fear of falling, but our fear of our desire to fall (I'm sure this is not the first time that I'm quoting Tomas from Unbearable Lightness of Being on this blog).  And I'm sure this is not the first time that I'm bringing up what Tim, one of our Alaska instructors, told us:  when he was in Antarctica, he was overcome with the urge to go out onto the ice away from McMurdo and walk forever, even though he would likely never find the base again once he got far enough.  Horizontal vertigo, he called it.  It's no different in the water - you start swimming out towards the tops of the waves and want to keep going until you hit the horizon, yet that's a goal you can never achieve. 

So every time I walk away from the ocean at the end of a long, brisk day, I leave a tremendous amount of unfinished business behind - swim to the horizon.  And every time I come back, I must get in again to try and get closer to that goal.  Even though I know that I can never get there, it keeps me getting into the water every time I come back.  Namaste, ocean.  Until next time.

Brisbane

Brisbane is even better than Sydney AND Byron! I can't handle it!

Last night I met up with Robyn and Tom, my friends from Sydney by way of Malaysia and Hong Kong. We got Malaysian food and walked around and giggled and I got lots of inside tips to the city. It's the friends and trees and river that make it feel smaller and more manageable :)

Then today I had the most wonderful and completely unplanned day. Had my first couch surfer meeting with Nikki and her friend Will. Nikki showed me her wonderful home and we basked in the sun and they cooked me lunch and we went for a drive to drop off Will at work. Then it turned out he works at Mount Coot-Tha, a beautiful getaway just outside the city. So after taking our photos at the top, Nikki dropped me off at the bottom and I stumbled through the forest to find my way back to the top again.

My walk involved a 1.5-km aboriginal art loop which included paintings on logs and rocks arranged in certain patterns. The section of the forest had a prehistoric air and an ancient feel to it. I felt lucky to walk through an area rich with so much history but it was also a little Blair Witch, so I was happy when I re-emerged at the top of the mountain and headed for the cafe. 

After a splendid chocolate caramel tart and some unsuccessful haggling for a faded beach towel, I jumped onto the last bus headed back into town (purely because I saw a city bus pull up in front of me) and soon found myself in the hustle and bustle of Queen Mall. The Aussie Target experience was quite disappointing and after some price tag browsing in higher quality shops I determined that I am not, in fact, buying a going out outfit, especially when I can eat sushi to my heart's delight at a fraction of a price. So I have been taking a well deserved break from pasta and peanut butter sandwiches! 

I had spotted the Ferris wheel before dinner and decided to try and walk there afterwards. I realized that I should have saved my appetite for the night noodle house that takes place near the Ferris wheel, but there is always tomorrow night! While enjoying my aerial view, I saw several boats dissecting the river and decided to go there next! When I got to the ferry stop, I had a nice chat with two women from Calcutta and the Philippines who helped me find the free boat that does a round trip in the river. After enjoying a 30-minute peaceful night ride, I got off at a new stop and walked back home (past a bottleshop with imported beer, obviously). Great success! 

Not planning the shit out of this trip has definitely been a personality challenge for me, but it's paying off because I couldn't have planned a day like today if I tried! 

Byron Bay

I took the Greyhound to Byron Bay the night before last.  The bus experience is markedly different from my travels in Asia! The bus had A/C, a toilet with soap and water, and was pretty empty so I had two seats to myself. When I first got on, though, it was so bumpy that I thought I would never get to sleep. But then after an Indian sleeping pill and some shuffling, nine restful hours had somehow slipped by and I was looking out the window at the beach towns counting down the remaining two hours until our arrival. 

I was so glad to be out of Sydney! This town is much more what I'm used to. The main street is set against the beach and some foothills so I feel less claustrophobic. There are fewer cars and more greenery and I'm grateful for the open space. Our hostel, the Arts Factory Lodge, is set back from the main drag and is a peaceful sanctuary from the hustle and bustle of tourists toasting hurrahs to their Endless Summers. 

I met two girls on the Greyhound - Marissa from Madrid and Louise from England - and we have been spending the days and nights together. I also ran into a few friends from Sydney who stayed at the Blue Parrot with me. Everyone is leapfrogging up the east coast! 

Yesterday we walked on the beach and went to the lighthouse at Byron. It's pretty funny how despite the sights, the main tourist attractions often end up being cafés and toilets. I had a nice fourth class scramble (Yosemite third class :) ) back to the beach. There was only one slightly technical move required to avoid getting wet, but overall it was relaxing. I saw some crabs hanging onto a rock along the tide line. 

At night we played cards and went out on the main drag. I made Mezcal Margaritas with pineapple coconut juice that turned out really well. Jacob and I were successful in tracking down dark beers at a couple of the bars. We got back late and the birds were loud at sunrise, so I slept in until 1 today. I love hanging out in my tent so it makes me sleep and sleep. I am so happy to be camping here. 

Today by the time I got up and bargained with the travel agencies, it was 3 pm and just enough time to enjoy the beach with my Greyhound friends and finally go into the ocean!! Swimming is such a pilgrimage for me. The water was warm, warmer than the air, and I stayed in as long as I could handle the waves. Every once in a while a big wave came along and I had to dive underneath its white top to keep my balance, so being in the water was no time to space out and float! 

Tonight we are going to a bar called Cheeky Monkeys (I keep calling it Chunky Monkeys, Ben and Jerry's represent!) for a five dollar dinner and apparently free champagne. Then who knows what the night will bring, but I'm getting up at 8:30 am to go sea kayaking tomorrow, so it's got to be an earlier one! 

Anyway, trip is much more social and I have been doing more hanging out and being less introspective than I expected. It is good because I was hoping to connect with people and go out more, and I'm still getting quality thinking in!

Sydney, Second Impression

 I wrote this when taking a break on my way to the Museum of Contemporary Art.

July 5.  I'm sitting down on a bench for a minute to write because the beauty of being on one's own schedule is doing such things on a whim whenever one is feeling like it.  

Second impression:  Sydney may not be endearingly dilapidated, but it is breathtakingly gorgeous. The historic district is preserved yet polished.  As I walk through the botanical gardens towards The Rocks area, the streets are lined with a mix of taller contemporary buildings and one- or two-story intricate churches, art galleries, and old facades that have retained their original charm and adorable quality.  I want to get lost here for days - to pick a different area to take the train to, walk the streets, find a park bench, settle into the scene, and breathe the city life around me. 

And, hello! There are benches. Without homeless people sitting on them screaming at you about killing people. I'm sorry if that's not a PC or sensitive way of putting it; it's just my experience.

It strikes me how present I have been so far - over 80% present, which is all you can ask for, really.  While some things here are common to the Western world I knew before, portals of familiarity through which I can travel to stay on track in this novel landscape, everything is different enough that it sucks me in and grabs all of my attention.  There is nothing familiar enough that I can tune it out and use that space to be somewhere else. 

Everything is new - the direction that the cars drive, the balcony decorations on the facade behind me, the intensity of the sun, the happy mix of accents assaulting me from all directions.  So for now I am here, letting Sydney fill every cell of my being.

Sydney, First Impression

I wrote this on July 4 while enjoying my first Sydney cappuccino and waiting to check into my hostel.

July 4.  Funny how July 3 just disappeared somewhere into the realm of airspaces and time differences.  Anyway, I have just arrived in SYDNEY, and I know that I shouldn't, but I have trouble not comparing it to my only other solo travel experience of Nepal.  Sydney lacks the quaintness, the childish and endearing appeal of the broken-downness of Pokhara.  It is urban to a fault.  It is developed.  It is its own thing, not trying to fit into its big sister's high heeled shoes.  The people here are no people of the mountains.  Perhaps they are people of the ocean, but it is too early to tell.  Right now, they are still just the faceless people of Sydney.  Of course, there are many escapees from expat paradises, but they don't expect you to be interested in their back story - because that's not what most tourists (or any other tourist except me, for that matter) are here for.

In my only other quasi-solo traveling experience (Nepal), you could identify a tourist a mile apart, and everyone loved each other for it.  I don't stick out like a sore thumb here because of my hair and skin tone.  Perhaps the side of the street that I walk on will give me away eventually.  The air here feels less clean than Spain, with its dusty cars coming at you from the (wrong!) side of the road.  Its advanced state of development breeds a deliberateness  that is borderline cocky, a self-assurance that is borderline arrogant.  And yet it is neither of those, so you can't quite fault it.

Ah, let's give it another hour.

Being a Tourist vs. Being a Traveler

Even thinking about this topic is cliche, but if you have been around the world a little, I'm sure you have wondered at some point how to be a better tourist - in other words, a traveler, world citizen, what have you. 

Sure, it's easy to go to a beach or mountain town where the sands and cliffs take your breath away, the shops offer mementos that are cheap and pretty, and the bars serve up drinks that are strong and sweet. But how do you know if it's the real thing? Is this how the locals dress and what they drink when they go home at night after a hard day's work entertaining visitors? 

And does it matter? If you find a place that is nice, what you find there is at least to some extent unique to that place. So maybe that place is not representative of the entire country, but you're still getting to know some other corner of the world. 

Consider Khao San road in Bangkok, Thailand. A very wise ecology professor once explained that it is a positive feedback loop of "things tourists like." For example, elephant symbols on clothing and room decor, whole traditionally a Cambodian element, have seeped into the everyday objects here because for many visitors, the elephant is a symbol of something authentically Asian. So even if you're technically in the wrong country, all things elephant still sell well, so they continue to propagate.

In this way, Khao San road morphs into its own self-sustaining entity where elephant-stamped items are privy to every corner, and in a way, that is real.

But for me, that's not enough. Here in Cambrils, expats from India, Pakistan, and Thailand sell purses and clothing local to their home countries. I'm sorry, but that is in no way a Catalonian souvenir! So what do you do? 

Here in Cambrils, I was lucky enough to connect with a cousin of a good friend who is originally from the area. We went to a barracks party - kind of like a more chilled-out version of Outside Lands where people don't push each other, drinks are 2 euros instead of 9 bucks (and admission is FREE), and you don't have to hold on to your spot by the stage for dear life so you don't lose all your friends when you go to the bathroom. After I decided that I will forever dislike music festivals, this one was actually a supremely pleasant experience! I loved the sense of community, self-awareness, and a feeling of being at home and fitting in that permeated throughout the crowd. One of the girls explained that she would run into high school friends in the bathroom line and catch up on all the events that happened since they hadn't seen each other in 3 years. 

The first step to enjoying an experience with a language barrier is to have a good attitude and smile about everything.  There is a lack of verbal cues about whether you are having fun, so you have to fill in with body language. And everybody wants to mutually make a good impression, so your body and mind really rally to the cause. I had an awesome experience because I wanted to have an awesome experience, and it really works like that! We stayed out until 4:30 am, and because I told my body not to be tired, I wasn't tired! I didn't even have a headache after alternating tequila, champagne, and beer all night. 

The second step is to think critically and ask lots of questions. I used every opportunity to find out about the culture, dating life, what the young people did, how quickly they grew up, etc. It was a chance for me to learn history and anthropology and a chance for my new friends to practice their English. Win-win! 

The third step is to get off the beaten path. I was one of maybe 5 foreigners at this huge party, and there is no way I could have tracked it down on my own. No tacky elephant symbols anywhere in sight! 

I also did this when I rented a road bike that was 3 times nicer than any bike I have ever touched and did a 50 km loop around the surrounding foothills. I've forgotten how quaint Europe is! The tiny compact streets look like they are cut out of a picture book and the farmland is vast and welcoming. The villages were dead quiet because I was out during the siesta, but all the surroundings are markedly non threatening. No stray dogs chasing me, and the few people I saw were either friendly or indifferent, immune to the hoards of road bikers who pass their homes each day to get their fix of exercise and sightseeing. Doing different activities is a great way to see a place - I was much closer to my surroundings than if I saw them by car or bus (and would have slept through most of the experience in that case 😛)

The final step is to keep putting yourself out there and trying to communicate! There are few things I love more than taking my hodgepodge of languages and trying to have a conversation with someone who grew up speaking something entirely different. Trying to speak the language can also earn you major bonus points, and trying to put yourself out there in other ways can have other rewards. When I wanted to get a bike, I bugged and bugged the shop owner about helmets until he agreed to loan me one for free. They typically don't rent helmets (only for children), and buying one for 20 euros for a 1-day outing seemed a little steep. I finally got a free kids' helmet to use for the day - an element that was vital to my ride. 

It turned out that one of the employees of the local dive shop grew up in the same town and spoke English AND French, so the drive over to the marina was a great way to pick his brain and tell him a little about America. 

My impression of Catalonia so far: the people are spunky and self-aware yet mellow, friendly, and welcoming, and the countryside is beautiful, picturesque, and quaint in a typically European way. Adding it to the list of places where I hope to return :)

Dolla dolla bills ya'll

Ok, here's the post you've all been waiting for: postcard beta!

1. Email me or comment here if you'd like a postcard. (It's cool if I haven't talked to you for like 3 years, I'm just psyched somebody is reading my blog and will be happy to send you a postcard anyway).

2. Indicate if you would prefer Barcelona or Australia. 

3. This part is important: on August 15, send me a follow up email with your current address. You all know (unless we haven't talked for 3 years) how awesome I am at using the postal system, so you gotta give me time until I'm back in the states and having travel withdrawal to complete fill out and mailing of said card. If you were hoping that I would incur some international postage fees on your behalf, just compare a late half-assed postcard with boring postage to no postcard at all and take your pick. 

Ok, time to request away :) 

Just the basics!

In my opinion, the two most important questions to ask when you arrive in a new country are: where do you put the toilet paper and can you drink the tap water?

In terms of the first question, when I arrived at the Barca airport, each stall had a suspiciously large trash can in it, and the characteristic smell was ever-so-slightly more prominent than the smell in its American counterparts. However, when in doubt, flush it down, so I went for the "ignorant tourist" approach and hoped for no cloggage.

In terms of the second question, I spotted some drinking water fountains outside the restrooms and similarly went for the "drink tap unless (until?) told otherwise" method.

The third most important question is probably, "Where the heck is my bus stop?" This one was resolved by dumb luck more so than sheer ignorance. After doing a couple of laps around the only part of the airport parking lot that had obvious potential to contain the bus terminal, I gave up and tried to go back inside to the information booth. Unfortunately, all the escalators connecting me to the information booth were one way in the wrong direction, but I magically stumbled onto my bus stop once I decided to look for another way to get back inside. You will arrive upon what you're looking for as soon as you stop looking, huh?!

Getting too comfy!

I just got my MS diploma and could very well be done with school forever if I want to be. I'm off to a 10 day trip to Cambrils, a beach town near Barcelona, followed by a 6 week tour of Australia's eastern coast and north central national parks. After that I'll be back to San Francisco -- quite possibly the best city in the world, to live with awesome people and start a full time job that I'm really excited about.

Yet I was bawling my eyes out at the airport.

What gives???

I am getting way too comfortable in the Bay Area, and I'm not entirely sure how this happened and what it means. Baz Lurhmann once said in his famous sunscreen speech that you should live in California once, but leave before it makes you soft. It's just so GOOD that I feel antsy going anywhere else in comparison.

But no, that's not it. I love getting dirty and uncomfortable and pushing myself and exploring new places. I thrive on change, yet in between change I fall so in love with the present that I'm resistant to give it up in the next moment. Buddha would NOT approve!

Take that and pair it with the fact that I did so much growing up at Stanford. I decided to come here in a more fully formed way than being sent off to play student in a college dorm for 4 years, did a lot of emotional work, got myself a big kid job. It seems so abrupt to leave a place where so much learning has happened because that means accepting that the learning is done and now I'm supposed to be fully equipped to apply my knowledge out there in the world. But wait! I feel like I JUST finally opened my mind and started learning things. I don't necessarily have more questions, but this chapter involved some major transformations in emotional maturity and I think I'll be living out their aftermath for a long time. I also feel like I could stay planted right where I am and continue thinking, learning, and changing, and I don't need to distance myself from all things familiar to initiate that process.

Take THAT and pair it with the fact that I built a great network here full of wonderful people to whom I can turn for support, so shouldn't I just hang out all summer and continue to solidify my family and friend relationships and enjoy the wonderful benefits?

But hey, one of the main things there is to know about life is that timing is always a little bitch so ready or not, I will take this vacation, be grateful for it, and live my face off!!