Homecoming

I have written many times about the idea of home. This complex notion that seems to harass the heart and muddle the mind. Home is a haven of nostalgia. It's a safe place in the sense that you can choose your memories. The ugly is forgotten and replaced by the beautiful. The reasons you chose to leave seem to fade as all of the reasons you should have stayed make themselves clear. It is a clever trick of the mind. A trick that makes you question yourself, and all you have to rely on is your stubborn hope that leaving was right.

All of the missed birthdays, holidays, and grand life moments cannot be replaced. The absence of coffee, walks, and late night chats with childhood friends is forever painful. There are times when my heart aches for the love of my family and the comfort of my friends and I wonder why I even left in the first place. Despite the nagging doubts that ride on the back of nostalgia I hold true to the belief that leaving was the right thing for me to do. My desires refused to be ignored as I internally screamed for a life outside of my comfort zone. 

It was the way in which I left which was all wrong. A four month trip morphed into an international move. There will never be enough words to ease the pain of such a selfish plan. It's been over a year now and still I cringe with the shame of a rash decision made on the opposite side of the world. A decision made when I didn't have to face the consequences. Going home means facing the reality of chasing my dreams. It is without a doubt the most terrifying trip I have ever embarked upon. 

I am going home. Or to the place that was once my home. It may only be a three week trip but it stirs 27 years of emotion in my heart. Home means familiar faces and the streets I dream of. It means shattered relationships and a childhood room being packed into boxes. It means the end of one exceptional chapter and the beginning of the next. The mountains, sagebrush, and endless sky are calling to me and I have no choice but to answer. 

The Extraordinary Mundane

There comes a point in all great adventures when the novelty wears off and the reality sets in. Life becomes less exceptional and more mundane. Once the honeymoon stage ends there is an awkward pause of uncertainty as we question if everything is really all that we made it out to be.

I find that I experience the same timeline of highs and lows when I move to a new place. The initial few months are exciting, challenging, and awe inspiring as I wander foreign streets and uncover the hidden gems of my new home.  Each new day brings about discoveries that quench my inability to settle for the familiar. My heart feels full as I chase the unknown. 

As days turn to months the novelty starts to wear off. Tram routes that used to end in wrong destinations become second nature. I have my phone number, address, and Australian nicknames memorized. The green grocer knows to expect my tired face every Monday evening to stock up on my weekly supply of apples and spinach. The standard three month lull of comfort seems to have hit again and I don't know if I love it or hate it. 

I hate to love staying in one place for too long almost as much as I love to hate it. The incessant pull onward cannot be ignored, however, neither can the satisfaction of having a home once again. It's a classic case of Jekyll and Hyde as my heart drifts between flights to India or new bedding, teaching in Japan or gaining sponsorship, challenging myself or settling, life or responsibility. 

While I cannot begin to think of the future, I do know that right now, in this very moment of my life, I am loving living in Melbourne. This city has not been voted the most livable city five years running for no reason. The CBD (aka downtown) pulses with life as buskers serenade passersby as they meander down streets lined with shops, cafes, and Asian cuisine. The Japanese, Korean, Chinese, Malaysian, Thai, Indian, etc. food is on par with that of all major cities and could very well by my favorite draw. The coffee culture in this city rivals that of Seattle, and I have spent my fair share of gold coins trying a small percentage of what is on offer. The Yarra river drifts lazily through the city, providing me with a daily shock of beauty during my commute home as the setting sun reflects brilliantly on the water. 

As far as my personal life goes I couldn't be more content. My home is nestled a 15 minute tram ride north of the city in a quaint neighborhood that smells of flowers, sounds of birdsong, and feels nothing like what I expected of living in a 4 million person city. I was lucky enough to secure a job working for Saxton Speakers Bureau which challenges me in the best way and is opening my eyes to a world of possibility. I am in contact with professional athletes, businessmen, adventurers, and inspirational people every day who serve as a reminder that I can do/be anything I dream of. Friends have crept into my heart as we spend days lazing in parks, having pop up dinners, or treating ourselves to lunch and a bottle of sparkling wine simply for the sake of it (love you, Deb). 

This is my life and I am proud of it. Five months ago I landed with nothing except a backpack and a shattered sense of self. My financial, physical, and emotional states were in dire need of a change. With the help of some truly incredible individuals and a determination that surprises even me, I created a life for myself from the ashes. 

So while my days are full of trams, emails, and the mundane instead of planes, blogs, and the extraordinary I am foolishly content. This is my newest home away from home and I love it.

For now. 

The Lentil House

Transient, vagabond, dirty hippie.

The latter of the list has been frighteningly accurate these past few weeks. After months of gallivanting around Europe with spur of the moment trips to Berlin, Vienna, and beyond I have come to the end of my savings. Throughout this adventure, people have been asking me one common question - "how are you affording this?" Here is a little taste of the reality of being a broke traveller.

After working and saving for a year I had a small cushion to take me on this trip. I signed up for a Barclay credit card which enabled me to purchase my flight to Istanbul based on reward points alone. While in Istanbul I was lucky enough to meet a selfless, beautiful human who let me make her home my own. I lived off almonds and cheap kebabs which protected my little pocket of cash. From there I booked a cheap flight (skyscanner.com is a lifesaver) to Bucharest where I stayed in the first of many hostels for $10 or less. From that point on I travelled by bus, train, and minivan, always searching for the cheapest path. There were many nights spent on buses which turns out to be a great way to save one night's accommodation. Restless nights were spent in hostel dorms as the sound of 16 other people sleeping infiltrated my subconscious. Two cheap meals a day of street food kept me satiated, albeit slightly nutrient deprived. Things were surprisingly simple, and it was easy to get by on roughly $15-$20 a day (with the exception of travel days and the occasional cheeky night out).

Australia has been a slightly different story. In the land of $14 avocado/Vegemite toast I have finally felt the pressure of being unemployed for 7 months. As I struggled to find my feet, I moved into an appropriately priced room in what has now become known as the Lentil House. Nepalese flags fluttered across my window as I explored ways to feed myself with a rapidly depleting allowance. Thankfully the Lentil House came equipped with a blossoming vegetable garden which I raided daily for sustenance. Random combinations of beet root, tomatoes, squash, onions, and whatever other vegetable was on sale were hastily shovelled into my maw as I sat in bed reading. It should come as no surprise that TV and wifi were nowhere to be found in my little hippie abode. Olive oil was used as a replacement for lotion, face wash, and conditioner. Simple things like toothpaste and deodorant were treated as luxuries and used sparingly.

One slightly hungover morning I found a very disgruntled mate (see how Australian I am?) standing in my kitchen clutching a mug with enough force to shatter it. Her glare stopped me in my tracks as she informed me that my hippie house did not have coffee, but rather ground, roasted dandelion and her caffeine dependent body was less than impressed. It summed up what it meant to live in the Lentil House beautifully.

Having no money was an interesting challenge as I had to become quite creative to stay afloat. I have been outrageously fortunate to not have to feel the sting of desperation before this and it was a lesson I'd rather not have to learn again. An endless thank you goes out to the numerous people who helped out in some way, be it a tearful phone call, a comforting whiskey, or selfless loan, you are lifesavers.

Hello from Australia

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.

Rainy Day Revelations

More than once during this jaunt I have found myself in a coffee shop, sipping hot goodness, as the rain pours down outside. These are some of the thoughts that have come to me during these times. As I prepare to leave Europe to chase my dreams to Australia, I thought that I would share them.

1) I really, truly, beyond a doubt love my life. Each day brings about an ecstasy I have never known before. My mind and soul are being overloaded with images of unimaginable beauty combined with the chance to meet like-minded and wonderful individuals. I am struck with such intense emotions on a daily basis that I no longer know the difference between anxiety, hope, and fear. Each new experience brings more to my character and helps me grow into the person I have always wanted to be. Life, what a wild ride it can be.

2) I miss my family and friends more than I have been able to admit to myself. This is a particularly hard one for me because the path I have chosen requires sacrifices of all sorts, separation from loved ones being the biggest. For all of the missed birthdays, weddings, holidays, and cups of tea I am missing, I am sorry.  If I could put you all in my pocket as I chase my dreams around the world I wouldn’t hesitate. I love you humans and miss you every single day.

3) It is okay to be vulnerable. And sad. And lonely. With the highest highs come some of the lowest lows. I have had to learn how to balance my emotions as this roller coaster of feelings takes ahold of my life. While social networking usually shows the best moments of our lives, we don’t generally let people see the dark. We create a world of false perfection by only showing our proudest moments. There have been tears, and fights, and days spent hiding from the world, and I have learned that is okay. I am human, after all.

4) Traveling changes me a little more each time. It happened during my first trip around Europe, and again in Honduras, South Korea and now I am changing again. Each adventure around the world brings more insight than I bargained for. When you are alone on a bus, train, plane, ferry, whatever it may be, you are left with nothing but yourself for company. In these moments I have been able to take a look at my character and realize the things that need to change. And the things that don’t. I am working on being proud of who I am and these trips are notoriously good for self reflection and growth.

5) Everything is going to be more than okay in the end. Somehow through all of the chaos of life, things just seem to come together as if woven into a tapestry. I have made some life altering mistakes, but coming to Europe was not one of them. In fact, it might be the best thing that could have happened to me. Following my instinct and not giving into the pressures of life has put me on a course that I finally feel is right for me and me alone. I have never been more certain of my love for life’s uncertainties before. Do something you love and do it well.  

I have also discovered my love for goulash, mulled wine, random wanderings through cobblestone streets, and the chance to be a new person with each fresh start. Farewell Europe, thanks for all of the love, laughter, and evolvement. Until next time.

The Art of Running

I am runner.

I run from places, situations, and ideas. I run from family and friends and loved ones. I run because I feel trapped.

I run to countries I’ve only dreamed of, adventures never imagined, and challenges that change me. I run to intriguing humans who share my view of the world. I run because I want to feel alive.

For some people running is the most cowardly thing you can do. Giving up a life that I created for myself for something new is selfish and irresponsible. For others, running is seen as courageous. Throwing caution to the wind in exchange for the unknown is something to be proud of, to be admired.

I don’t know what the right answer is. All I know is that I am a runner and I wouldn't change it for the world.

In the past two weeks I have traveled to Budapest for one night out with my soul mate. We sang Madonna’s “Like a Prayer” and danced the night away with boys in velvet crop tops. From there I journeyed on to Berlin to celebrate another friend’s birthday. Here we stood in line for the infamous clubs and meandered around German Christmas markets. From there I met yet another nomad in Vienna. The days were spent wandering camera stores and sipping copious amounts of mulled wine. The last stop in my whirlwind Europe trip was Budapest (again). There are some cities that just call to your soul and Budapest sings a song like no other for me. Days on ice skating rinks and in old movie theaters followed by nights in ruins bars made me mourn my goodbye.

Now I have made my way home, well home to Istanbul. My life has come to a standstill for the week and it is bringing the weight of the past four months down on me. When I think back to the person I was before I left I have a hard time remembering her. Travel has a knack for exposing weaknesses and revealing strengths. Whether for good or for bad, one thing is for certain, this trip has changed me.

From here I will make my way to Melbourne, Australia to try out life on the other side of the world. After that the possibilities are endless.

I am running.

I am running from standards and expectations. From a life that slowly drains the soul.

I am running to my dreams, to a life of adventure. I am running because there is so much of this world left to see and so little time to see it.

Road Tripping: Part Three

Day 11: A night of thunderous rain transformed into a morning of damp socks and the idea to go caving at Skocjan. The tour started with a jaunt through a rain sodden forest. Our thankfully small group silently marched along the leaf littered path under umbrellas held high. We entered the caves through a strangely artificial tunnel, unsure of what to expect. It was astounding. Giant domed ceilings arched overhead as rock formations 250,000 years old glistened wetly, still growing with each mineral rich drop of water from above. From the silent cavern we ebbed our way deeper into the heart of the Earth, each step bringing the roar of water ahead. Thanks to the heavy rainfall experienced that week the caves had flooded only days before and were expected to flood again. This most comforting thought stuck with me as I stood on a bridge watching the river violently crash its way through the system bearing flotsam from the flood. An impressive team was filming a documentary in the caves detailing how they were first explored on precarious steps hewn into the rock walls themselves. Keep an eye out for the film, you will not be disappointed. We emerged once again into the daylight (rainlight) and headed towards Vipava with the thought of wine tasting bringing a smile to my face. Never underestimate the power of a smile. It may be a seemingly insignificant twitch of the face yet it carries the weight of contentment. Smile more, trust me on this. I suppose it was hard not to feel pleased as we drove through quaint Slovenian villages on our way to a private wine tasting. A few samples (and bottles) later we found a quiet stretch of road and called it a night.

Day 12: LJUBLJANA. If you are ever lucky enough to find yourself on this side of the world do yourself a favor and go to Ljubljana. Maybe it was the fact that it was our first day without rain after a very wet spell, or maybe it was the beautifully hospitable people we were lucky enough to spend the day with, but the town left an everlasting imprint on my heart. We bounced from a cafe to a castle to a cafe to a market to the best Mexican food I have had in Europe before topping it all off with a sinfully delicious crepe. We were fortunate enough to spend the day with one of Joel’s coworkers and her friends, a group of people who turned out to be welcoming, loving, giving, and the best company a person could ask for. They played the role of tour guide happily as they lead us through the cobble stone streets of Ljubljana. There they pointed out the three bridges, a gallery in the park, and a desperately romantic statue of a poet reaching longingly towards the window where his love resided, the muse knowingly watching over them both. We also had our second night under a roof complete with a scalding hot shower and the chance to wash our clothes. The hostel was a reverted jail block with eccentric works of art dotting the outside courtyard making it look like the home of the lost boys. I’ve never been happier to sleep in a room full of strangers. It is funny how living in a car has the ability to make you appreciate the small things in life, like a bed.

Day 13: After a night under a roof and with a bag full of freshly laundered clothes we turned our sights towards Lake Bled. The mountain cradled, petite lake with its sole island housing a church would be more fitting in a fairy tale than real life. Cottages and shops dotted the shoreline, all eerily empty thanks to the chilly time of the year. The lake itself was shrouded in a thin layer of mist that ebbed and flowed altering my perception with each new breath of wind. We wandered along the shoreline and up to the castle resting on a hill for another shockingly perfect view of the Slovenian countryside. I had an inspiring panoramic of the lake blending into farmland while being serenaded with the clanking bell of the lead cow meandering below. A quick descent back down to the lake brought a swarm of ducks squawking and pulling either other’s tail feathers in their desperate dive for breadcrumbs. The whole debacle was being judged by their more graceful cousins, the swans who seemed to ruffle up their feathers and turn their backs on the whole unruly business. Thanks to the incredible souls we met in Ljubljana we had a few extra euro in our pockets and instructions to try the traditional dessert of the region. The perfectly square piece of sugary delight was comprised of custard, puff pastry and not one ounce of regret. We were lucky to find an exceptional sleeping spot that night at the foot of a trail head, just past a small neighborhood of red thatched cottages that had been abandoned for the winter. That night the rain gave us a break from its usual downpour and settled for a slight drizzle so we threw a tarp down on the mud to feast on cheese with jam, cured meat, and our homemade pickled vegetables all washed down with another bottle from Karis’s Italian wine stash. It was the end of another soul stirring day.

Day 14: I awoke throughout the night to the sound of rain thrashing the car and thought that our hopes of hiking were dashed. Fortunately we awoke to the typical European drizzle that is bearable with the right attitude. A quick breakfast and coffee stop proceeded our trek into the the Julian Alps. Mostnice Gorge is, indeed, most nice. Thanks to the heavy rainfall of the past week the water was ripping through the canyon, churning its usual glacially green waters white. Blood red leaves were decaying in the same positions they had fallen in only weeks before filling the air with the sickly sweet smell of late Autumn. Vibrant green moss still coated the river rocks which only served to compliment the color-rich landscape. Waterfalls had been the theme of the road trip so far, so, of course, we ended up at the base of yet another cascading fall letting the freezing mist wash over our faces. Bohinj was the next stop of the day. The lake was cloaked in fog, obscuring the dramatic Alp background surrounding the lake. A sign recommended 2.5 hours to walk around the lake but after a quick check of the time (3:30) and a wary glace at the gathering storm clouds ahead we decided that we could beat the time by an hour at least. Needless to say, 3 hours later when we completed the loop it was pitch black outside and we were soaked to the bone. It was absolutely worth it. To offset the wet toes and kilometers hiked that day we casually borrowed some wood from the village near our campsite and had our first and last campfire of the trip. There are few things more delicious in this world than foil packet dinners on the fire. We feasted on steamed veggies and steak. The night was wonderful in a way that only happens with red wine, a full belly, and a campfire TV. The mysterious voices we heard in the empty darkness couldn't even dampen the experience.

Day 15: I opened my eyes to the dull ache of my two old lady hips and was grateful that I had made it so long sleeping in the car before they took a day from me. Joel and Karis decided to tackle an elevation rich hike and I opted to spend the day in a glass sunroom watching the world outside being dominated by a rain storm while sipping endless cups of tea with milk (miss you, momma). I took to writing and reflecting and writing some more as memories of the previous two weeks washed over me. During this brief spell of caffeine induced heavy thinking I came to many conclusions but some seemed to stand out more than others. Considering the appalling length of this blog I will save them for next time. With the return of my adventure partners we headed back into Bled for Chinese food, because why not eat crispy duck in Slovenia? It was delicious. We parked our car at the entrance to Vingtar Gorge and slept the night away.

Day 16: The final day. I rolled out of my sleeping bag and onto the trail through Vingtar Gorge. Once again I was astounded by the play of colors with the leaves and rushing water. Slovenia is an incredibly beautiful country. A quick blast to the face from a waterfall and we headed back to the cars. We said our goodbyes to Karis and turned the car to home, well to Budapest. In order to maintain sanity during the 9 hour ride we listened to Serial, a most addicting “who done it” podcast that I recommend to everyone looking to be entertained and frustrated with the lack of answers. I JUST WANT TO KNOW WHO DID IT. We popped into Austria and were welcomed by two separate half hour long police escorts. We manically looped roundabouts time and time again while laughing with fake Austrian accents that began as soon as we crossed the border and ended just as abruptly when we returned to Hungary. Our final night ended peacefully in some farm land. For me there were tears and revelations long over due. We spooned the last of our Nutella into our mouths while listening to the wisdom of the song below. Listen. Hear. Enjoy.

Thanks for reading, as always.