One month into this move and I still find myself waking in the middle of the night, momentarily unsure if I am home, in Istanbul, or in one of the great European cities. As my dreams fade reality sets in; I am living in Australia. The decision not to buy a plane ticket home, but rather one to the other corner of the world was not an easy one.
Life has a bewildering way of convincing you, briefly, that you have everything figured out. It shows you your whole life laid out in front of you, and it all seems perfect. The moment you happily head down your chosen road an uneven, and even more uncertain, path reveals itself. You can choose to ignore this path and continue to live a life of beautiful, routine happiness, or you can take the exhilarating risk to step entirely into the unknown. I took the risk, but not without the greatest loss.
My first few weeks here have included eating kangaroo before finally glimpsing a small troop of them prancing through golden grass, watching a giant sting ray swim elegantly under my squid fishing line, and plunging into an icy waterfall in the isolated nook of a brilliantly green forest. I have spent time feasting at a beach house, traveling the Great Ocean Road, and camping while keeping an eye out for drop bears.
I am temporarily living in a house that smells vaguely of patchouli and cats. The highlight of the abode is, without a doubt, the vegetable garden which boasts a handful of edible surprises. Cherry tomatoes, strawberries, zucchini, lemons, and various herbs have helped keep me alive during these few scant weeks as I await my first pay check. The income will be thanks to my job working for Careers Australia on the 9th floor of a towering building in central Melbourne. This pause and chance to recuperate is welcome, because I know, come the year’s end, I will be on the move again.
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