This is Traveling

Travel is the ultimate reinforcement on the idea of mindfulness, of being present in every moment because none of this might happen again. It’s becoming engrossed with every tree and mountain around me, trying to memorize each detail, drinking it all in before I pick up and move on. Eventually it means I forget to even take pictures, because I know that they never capture what I really feel in that moment. Even if I remembered to photograph everything I loved, I’m too busy doing new things to go back and look at them.

Travel is meeting people who I feel I could be best friends with and then having to say goodbye the very next day as I discover they’re flying to the next town or out of country. This happens more often than I’d like it to, and it’s strange that meeting beautiful people can begin to wear on me. Sometimes it’s becoming incredible friends with them and trying to figure out how we can ever see each other again, because a few weeks just isn’t enough with a person.

Travel is falling in love and not knowing if I should tell the other person, because I don’t want to be the one responsible for changing their plans or inhibiting their dreams. It’s telling them anyway, because the risk might be worth it. If things fall through I never have to see them again, but if I say nothing then I also might never see them again. Travel is deciding whether I can still hold onto my independence while choosing to start a new adventure with someone else. It is a whole new level of terrifying, and there is nothing so far that has prepared me for it.

Travel is pushing new friendships and relationships much farther and more intensely than they would be in the real world, because there’s no time to waste. A week in a hostel with a good roommate can make it seem like we’ve been friends for years. We eat, travel, share, explore, and go everywhere together. Travelers understand the lives of other travelers, because there’s no other lifestyle like ours. Our bonds are created quickly as we share tips on things only other backpackers have experienced – finding jobs where bosses don’t care if we leave in three weeks, knowing who gives out free food or who puts on free events, where to get the cheapest and most durable clothing is. Backpacking is a network, and every person has something to add. On top of the advice we can offer, we also share everything – clothes, cigarettes, food, toiletries. We are the best example of a barter system there is.

Travel is missing holidays and special events back home. The first few are physically heart aching as I try to hold onto my family’s traditions or the memories of my little loves on their birthdays. It’s realizing that every time I come home the children will be a little bit older and will need me a little less. It’s missing the deep, familiar hugs from each of my family members and the way I never stop laughing when I’m with my girls. Eventually this will fade as I become comfortable on my own, but my heart will never stop being full of them.

Travel is seeing things I never knew I was missing out on and sometimes having no one to share them with. This is not necessarily a bad thing, as I’m finally beginning to recognize that my emotions and awe need no validation from anyone else.

Travel is the pinnacle of creativity and resourcefulness. It is fixing things with poor sewing skills or found pieces of twine. It’s wearing clothes that are worn so thin that they offer virtually no barrier from the elements.  It is eating pasta or hot chips 4-5 nights a week, the only variations being foods other backpackers have left behind. We are poor and nutritionally lacking, but we are never hungry. We waste as little as possible in every area.

Travel is taking risks that would seem bizarre to anyone else. It is deciding how to get to a town on the other side of the country as quickly and cheaply as possible so I can work a job for someone I’ve never met. It is hitchhiking or deciding if I should buy a car that’s 15+ years old and hoping it doesn’t break down as we explore a country I’ve never been in. It’s constant trial-and-error or listening to the advice of well-meaning strangers.

Travel is wondering if I’ll ever settle into a routine that is more socially acceptable but not particularly wanting to. It’s having to sacrifice a lot of the stability of a traditional lifestyle, which sounds like freedom but is still difficult in a whole new way.  It’s wondering how aging will affect the sustainability of what I have going for me now, and it’s scary to think that if I ever go back I’ll have no marketable skills to offer prospective employers. It’s constantly being aware that what I have sounds enviable at first but personally knowing that it’s also a constant struggle with uncertainty and nonstop transitions. For every new choice I make it’s asking myself, “Is this crazy?” It’s then answering myself, “What’s so wrong with crazy?” It is hectic, but I am in love with it.

Travel is exhausting while invigorating parts of my heart I had forgotten about. I rediscover things about myself I wasn’t sure existed anymore. I am less physically healthy as I snack on whatever is convenient, but my mental health has never been better. I am almost always comfortably satisfied, if not downright happy. Every day presents an infinite amount of possibilities, and the best part is that nothing ever turns out as expected. Despite the fact that everything can feel wildly out of control at any given time, this lifestyle always makes me feel that everything is connected in some hippie dippy way.  If home is where the heart is, then I have found it; I am always home.

The Road From Oz

When I was younger I spent an inordinate amount of time journaling. I got my first diary when I was in primary school and my writing exercises didn't die down until about 3 years ago (24+ journals later). I remember being terrified of forgetting the things I'd done. This, along with my borderline OCD symptoms and overall neurosis, fueled my unquenchable need to document every up and down of my seemingly chaotic life.

You would think, then, that I'd be good at updating my blog, but I'm shit at it.

As most of you know, I've been in Australia for the past 20 months. For as long as I can remember, I've been pretty nearly obsessed with Australia and the idea of visiting it one day. I don't know why or how this fixation began, but when I finally made the decision to come over I was beyond stoked.

Because of the accessibility of Facebook, I don't feel I need to talk about all the things I've done here or the friends I've made along the way. Everyone knows that one of the most important things about traveling is what we learn from it, how it shapes us. I want to dedicate this blog entry to what I've learned about travel, traveling as an American, and things I've discovered about myself (in no particular order).

• Despite the fact that Australians also speak English, there was a much bigger language barrier than I expected. Aussies abbreviate/ change nearly everything, and there are actually a lot of words that are the same but mean something entirely different (example: marinara for them means a seafood mixture, whereas it's a tomato based sauce for us). I honestly had an easier time communicating with the locals in Thailand and Cambodia than I did with a lot of Australians (through no fault of anyone). Now that I've picked up on a lot of it, I'm going to miss the slang of Oz the most. And I will forever be trying to normalize the word "cunt" back home in the States.

• Guys - other countries do not love Americans, but let me tell you they are obsessed with us. American politics and happenings are on the news here constantly, and I'm always being asked about what's going on back home. The most common topics of discussion I get are about Trump or guns. Pretty much everyone is appalled by the behavior of us "damn Yanks", and it's a bit embarrassing to even admit where I come from half the time. I do blame the media, however, for some of the inaccurate ways we're portrayed, because any time I've met an Aussie who's actually been to America they say they loved it and met tons of nice people. Only the people (not just the Aussies) who learn about us through movies and the news seem to hate us because there are so many distortions of the truth. I know a lot of the hatred is towards our government, but as with anything that can be commonly misdirected towards us as individuals.

• Australia is a big, big place. I was warned about this before I came here, but I was somehow in denial about just how sizable it is. This means that just like back home I've found shifts in accents/ slang depending on where I go. People here have prejudices about different parts of the country just like we do back home about different parts of ours'. Overall, though, there was never a time I was here when it didn't feel like Australia to me. 

• Australia is gorgeous. When people ask me what my favorite parts of Oz are, I say the animals and the landscapes (in that order). Because of its location, there are so many creatures here that don't exist anywhere else in the world. The beaches all look straight out of postcards. The sky feels bigger. The sun is so much brighter (I wear my sunnies even when it's cloudy). For anyone wanting to come on holiday here, I'd 100% recommend that. There are so many things I didn't get around to seeing, but I was in awe of the natural beauties I did.

• When it comes to any group of peoples it would of course be inappropriate to make generalizations about them, but I'm going to do it anyway. In Oz I met some of the most amazing, incredible women I've ever known. They were hospitable, charming, independent, intelligent, spunky - I can only think of one or two women I met in the entire country that I wouldn't want to spend a lot of time with. I was constantly blown away about how down-to-earth and warm they were, and I wish I didn't have to leave them all behind. The women of this country made my adventures so much nicer.

• As I traveled I  met heaps of other travelers (backpacker culture is super strong here), and it taught me a couple things. First off, even though I'm much older than most of them, I'm glad I waited until now to set out on this adventure. Mentally I never would have been capable of taking this on if I'd gone when I was younger. Secondly, I really love traveling alone. While I miss companionship and the familiarity I have when I'm traveling with people I know well, I would rather be by myself than with strangers I just met somewhere in a hostel. A lot of the younger people here seem to just hop in cars with people they just met and go from place to place. It seems like a bloody nightmare. I'm happy getting to go wherever I feel like and whenever I feel like it. It's been a soothing respite from the life I used to live, which was primarily being continuously surrounded by others (but I really do love and miss all of you!)

• The longer I'm away, the less likely I find it that I will settle down any time soon. I'm so happy to be single, childless, and with no other strings attached. I'm immensely grateful to the family and friends in my life who support me and don't take offense to this life approach of mine. I hate that these are sacrifices I've had to make, but the beauty of the friendships I'm in (and in conjunction with technology today) is that they are strong across distances.

It feels surreal to me that I've been away from home for nearly 2 years, and it's even more bizarre than my time is coming to an end. I'm happy to have come here, but I'm going to be real in saying that I wouldn't want to live here (although Tasmania and Perth have both captured my heart).
I can't wait to head home to see everyone in person, and I can't wait to take everything I've learned and apply it to my next travel destination (New Zealand). See you all soon!