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.