If you go, you should know, it matters not where, but why.

I’ve always been a fan of circles, mostly because I encounter them constantly. If you look carefully enough, if you pay attention, if you stop to smell the proverbial roses, you start to notice patterns. Arguing their meaning is, well, meaningless. It doesn’t matter if they matter. But they are there, and as I sit here in the airport in Nadi, Fiji, stewing in the 30° evening air, swatting away memories of my first steps into this last adventure with the flies, I find myself at yet another end at the beginning, and left once again in awe of the universe, in all its subtlety.

 

I flew Air Pacific from LA here back in February, on my way to Asia. I’m taking the same airline back to the States, via my first stop on this leg of travel, Fiji. Just as I found myself again in Rome on my way back from Europe, realizing it had been a year nearly to the day since I’d first stepped foot in the ancient Italian capital on my first European adventure. How is it that I continuously seem to find myself back where I started? Whatever the reason, I’m eternally grateful for the opportunity for comparison. Sometimes it’s difficult to appreciate how far we’ve come until we circle back to the beginning.

 

 

I’m staring down a blinking cursor, feeling the fluttering electricity of the hundred thousand words I want to make it conjure, but unable to translate, unable to properly select the vernacular of my mind, heart, and soul at present. I feel as though I’ve lived four lifetimes since I left, and I have no idea how to describe that in words. I will say, however, that beginning tomorrow I’ll be in the careful hands of my nearest and dearest, my family, and a string of long lost friends, and though it was sad to leave my mates in Auckland, my loyal beautiful companions who gave me so much with what I consider to be inadequate reciprocation, I am elated with the prospect of these next few months. I’m beginning to think of America as some foreign, exotic land that I’m looking forward to exploring. I feel removed enough to be able to examine it from a cultural standpoint, fascinated and probably baffled.

 

 

 

But before I throw my musings into the speculative abyss of the future, allow me to toss a spotlight onto the past few weeks, my much anticipated journey to the South Island…

 

 

 

 

 

How I Spent My Summer Vacation

 

 

I tarried in Auckland long enough to catch Anika Moa, one of my favorite kiwi musicians, at the Spiegeltent, one of my favorite venues, with Karen. The show was part of the Auckland Fringe Festival, and the Spiegeltent, which travels around the world to different Fringe events, was the very same as it was when my flatmates and I saw Camille in Edinburgh. (We even sat in the same seats… circles again.) It’s designed to reflect the nuances of a traveling circus, one of my favorite themes (past life, I’m convinced), and the atmosphere lent itself beautifully to Anika’s immaculate voice and spunky style. It was a great show.

 

The next day I caught a flight down to Nelson, where I was promptly adopted by a couchsurfing family, Nerissa and Darren. I spent several days being spoiled by homecooked family meals, my own room, and comic books and board games with their 12-year-old son, Ian. I spent a day hiking around the legendary Abel Tasman National Park, but otherwise just enjoyed chilling out for the first time in six months. (I also got a psychic reading in town that was, to say the least, very interesting. I’ll let you know if I actually end up a gypsy.)

 

I didn’t really know where specifically to go next, so I set out hitching. My first lift took me all the way out to the west coast, and from there I caught a series of rides until I made it to Franz Joseph. I spent the night in a hostel with the trio of German girls who had gotten me there, and met Hilary along the way, an Aquarian from Nova Scotia who shared my state of mind. We took a midnight walk through the woods to find glow worms, and along the way discussed every topic under the stars. She had just completed a meditation course similar to the one I did at Suan Mokkh and had made some important self discoveries in her travels. Both of us felt as though we had finally cut loose and reconnected with ourselves, and were back on the right paths. She slipped a bracelet she had made me into my backpack the next day.

 

I spent most of the day exploring the glaciers, surprised and refreshed that most of the trails around the area were free (too many natural wonders in NZ charge admission). I got on the road that night and headed all the way down the remainder of the coast with a couple of Swedish guys. (As it turns out, they had spent some time with Hilary the night before, and she had used one of their wrists to measure my bracelet.) After a long ride and a stop over in Wanaka, we carried through to Queenstown as the sun was setting, casting lovely light onto the cliffsides as we traversed intensely winding mountain passes. I found a bed in a hostel and got up early to investigate trips to Milford Sound, the top of everyone’s suggestion list. A couple of guys from Sydney in the lobby overheard my inquiries and offered to drive me out there, since they were on their way anyway (easiest hitch ever). We drove four hours through some more breathtaking countryside and caught a boat out into the sound, which is actually a fjord. The weather was stunning (the guide kept reminding us of how bafflingly lucky we were to have such a perfect day), but I was a little disappointed, since the usually numerous, boisterous waterfalls were nonexistent in the sun, and the Tasman Sea was placid, as the Tasman never should be. But far be it from me to complain about Milford Sound. There were dolphins and seals and overall, pretty spectacular.

 

The Aussie boys and I stayed the night at a backpackers in Te Anau, but not before hitting the local pub (they were Australian, after all). You can’t beat lively discussions, bad bar music, and pool, especially in a small NZ town.

 

We went back to Queenstown the following day, where I immediately booked an overnight cruise to Doubtful Sound. It wasn’t for another two days, however, which gave me some time to kill. I don’t believe in killing time and have trouble staying still for too long, so naturally I decided to jump off a cliff.

 

I started slow with a paraglide, reasoning that while I love heights and views, I hate drops, and a paraglide would cut the plummeting out of the equation. I hooked into my tandem and, with a running leap, jumped from the mountain face into what proved to be a gorgeous, though rather boring ride. It was too easy, so I decided to kick it up a notch and try a hang glide. Nice weather was once again against me, as we waited an hour for a breath of wind. My fellow hang glider was a 60-something Australian lady on holiday for a few weeks, who was terrified of heights, but determined to prove to her kids that she could do it. She ended up having the best time, and though I hardly knew her, I was proud.

 

I got to talking to the instructors, Sean and Niall, and they invited me to crash at their flat of some fifteen international people, one of which (Brian) I had met the night before anyway (it’s a small town). Early the next morning, after a rather sleepless night, I embarked on my Doubtful Sound excursion, which ended up being discounted 50% simply because the boat had malfunctioned and the tour organizers had to cut kayaking out of the equation (it had been so long since I’d done a tour catering to Western tourists… the concession, to me, was immense, infinitely surprising, and exceedingly helpful). On the boat ride across Lake Manapouri (apparently one of the most beautiful places in NZ when it snows) I met Ben from DC who became my buddy on the trip. Once across the lake there was another bus to take us to yet another boat (this is why I didn’t hitch this trip). It was misty and rainy, as Fjordland should be. We tooled around the sound (another misnomer, actually a fjord), saw waterfalls and seals, learned about the flora, fauna, and history of the area, then settled in to a massive buffet dinner and some lively conversation with a small group of travelers we had assembled. The morning brought sunrise and another huge meal, as well as more drifting around. We all agreed we wanted to jump ship and live forever on one of the small islands that dot the fjord.

 

I made my way back to Queenstown and again met up with Sean for one last coffee. He was kind enough to give me a lift out of town, which turned into a lift nearly half way to Invercargill. From there it was a series of rides until I hit it. My last lift was a lady called Rose who offered to let me stay the night at her house (her daughter was away at camp and I was more than welcome to sleep in her room). It turned out to be fate. Rose is one of the few people I’ve met who traveled like me, even more intensely. She went through Asia in the 80’s with only a small backpack, among other remarkable feats. Now she’s a lawyer, specifically an advocate for children, which is the field I’m interested in going into. To top it off, her husband Mike turned out to be a clinical psychologist. The three of us could have stayed up talking all night, and very nearly did.

 

In the morning, Mike drove me to the outskirts of town for my toughest hitch. It took me six rides and four hours to get from Invercargill to Curio and Porpoise Bay, which I was prepared for ahead of time (Annika, a Danish girl I’d met on the Doubtful Sound cruise, warned me that going through the Catlins Mountains is tough going for a hitchhiker, but well worth it). My last lift was an elderly gentleman named Jim who took care of the grounds around the campsite and had been living in the area for 15 years. After driving me around to show me the highlights, he convinced me to stay and dropped me at a hostel he knew to be good. There I met Tim and Dave, a couple of Americans, and Eva, a Swiss girl cycling around NZ, and the four of us set out to explore the famed petrified forest, search in vain for penguins, and hang out with the nearly domesticated sea lions in the area. We made dinner and enjoyed a quite night of books and tea, enveloped in a gale force storm throwing a tantrum outside.

 

The next day a Canadian girl called Christie, who had been staying at the backpackers as well, offered to give me a ride as far as Surat Bay. It was a random, last minute union, but we ended up having quite a bit in common. Along the way we stopped to check out the Cathedral Caves and a short hike up to a dazzling waterfall. In the end I decided to stay the night with her in Surat Bay. We made some dinner and set out exploring, missing the penguins (again) but catching some incredible views from a lighthouse nearby.

 

The next day I grabbed a lift to Dunedin, which took me entirely by surprise. It was my favorite city by far, the cultural atmosphere of Wellington coupled with the teeming energy of a university town. It didn’t hurt that the Fringe Festival was in town, as well as the NZ Documentary Film Fest that I was gutted to have missed in Auckland. I spent a satiating couple of days drinking in a desperately needed heroine-esque dose of culture. There were two documentaries that I managed to squeeze in, one about Nepalese women during the Maoist Revolution, and another about a Palestinian boy whose father made the courageous decision to donate his organs after he had been accidentally shot by an Israeli soldier. There was a play by a local playwright about the trials and tribulations of his half Samoan / half English background, that explored domestic violence, growth, change, and culture (it had a talented cast of three who switched brilliantly between a wide range of characters). There was a circus/cabaret show that concluded in fire dancing, fire eating, and fire juggling (my days in Edinburgh came shooting back to me). And finally, there was a small matinee folk show, featuring two bands: The Tomato Plants are new to the scene, which showed, but the lead singer had a remarkable voice, and the uke player looked and sounded like Seth Rogen. (Who knows? Maybe it was Seth Rogen.) The other band, Delgirl, is exactly what I want to be when I grow up. A trio of 50-something women whose voices blend so harmoniously together they sound like a river. One played guitar, another played upright electric bass, and the third played an array of instruments, including the uke, the banjo, and the drums. (The latter looked like Tina Fey. I don’t think it was Tina Fey, though.) I was immediately enamored.

 

I stayed with Ani, and Egyptian born kiwi studying medicine who I found on CS. She was so easy going and fun to be around, and her friends were fabulous. My friend Tim, who I’d met in Curio Bay, joined me for the Fringe as well, and between the three of us and Ani’s friends there was never a dull moment. One day Tim and I spent wandering around the botanic gardens and the museum, finding oddities everywhere and just laughing at everything.

 

On my last day I finally connected with Katherine, my friend Alex’s sister. Alex had insisted that we were fated to be friends, and we both knew he’d never forgive us if we didn’t meet up. She showed up with her six-month-old son Ezra (who, by the way, she had dressed as a bumble bee) and treated me to the butterfly exhibit at the museum. We immediately bonded.

 

After wandering around the curiosities in the attic of the museum, Katherine dropped me near her home north of Dunedin to catch a lift to Christchurch. My last ride was a couple of guys from Ashburton who invited me to join them for laser tag once we got to the city. I of course accepted and ended up just crashing with them for the night. One of the guys, Jon, agreed to drive me all the way to Kaikoura the next day, since I wanted to go and he hadn’t been in ages. We made it up just as the sun was setting and decided to sleep in the car, partly to save the money, and partly just for the experience. I’ve never been more freezing in my life, but it was all worth it to see the sun rise over the sea, painting the snow capped mountains in soft pastels.

 

In the end, we bagged the whale watching idea because we were told no one had seen whales in days, and decided to head back to town.

 

Two hours outside of Christchurch, we got into a car wreck. Everyone’s fault (and, thus, no one’s fault), we hit a van that decided last minute, without looking, to make a right turn as we were overtaking traffic. It was bad, but it should have been a lot worse. Had Jon not regained control of the car, we might have ended up crashing into a garage, into fuel pumps, into a fuel truck, or into any one of the parked or moving cars nearby. It was also pretty impressive that it happened in front of the only garage for miles. Overall, pretty lucky, though it gave me a nasty case of whiplash. At everyone else’s insistence, and since health care is free, I opted to get it checked out, which meant a ridiculous looking spectacle of a neck brace and an ambulance ride down to Christchurch. It was my last hitch. Figures.

 

Once at the hospital, the doctors decided blood tests and x-rays were unnecessary, pumped me full of pain killers and sent me on my way. I spent my remaining time in the city trying to figure out how to backpack my way back to New York with a sore neck and back, but the pain has, to my very pleasant surprise, already subsided (which is good because I seem to have acquired far too much crap again and am back to looking like a pregnant turtle until I make it home.)

 

I made it back to Auckland and was greeted at the airport by Karen, who was kind enough to pick me up. Once I got home, Channy and Nicky invited me over to Jason’s for dinner. The next day (yesterday) the La Zeppa kids met me for a lovely picnic in the sun and an evening of pizza at Frances’ house. I got my proper goodbyes from the people who made my hectic, stupid, dumbfounding schedule in Auckland manageable. For most of them, it doesn’t really feel like goodbye anyway. I know in my heart that I’ll meet many of them again, for we’ve all got that spark to get out there and go, and in that we’re bonded.

 

Besides, the word “goodbye” seems to have been replaced by the word “facebook” anyway.

 

 

 

So, here, again, in familiar Fiji, at the end of the beginning all over again, I realize: a year ago, I was knee-deep in a meditative silence in a Thai monastery. A year from now…?

 

…Well, where do you think you’ll be?

 

 

 

 

 

xo

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

‘Cause it’s a winding road
I’ve been walking for a long time
I still don’t know where it goes
and it’s a long way home
I’ve been searching for a long time
I still have hope
I’m gonna find my way home

all these dreams took me so far
and I felt I just couldn’t go on
and I want to hang out the window of your car
and see just how good this baby can run…

New Zealand never stood a chance.

I realize this now, nearly six months since first setting foot onto this little chunk of land imbedded into the Pacific. As soon as I got here I was ready to leave, which had nothing to do with NZ and everything to do with the events that lined it, past and future, before and after. It could have been anywhere… it wouldn’t have made a difference.

My mind wasn’t here. My wallet was unprepared. And mostly, I had given away too much of my heart before I got here and had too little of it left to give. NZ was always just an obstacle to tackle before I could make it home, to the open and waiting arms of the people and places I love so dearly, that have been so patient. It wasn’t fair. I wasn’t fair.

And yet somehow, despite my lack of completeness, despite my inability to properly give back, I made friends. I made good friends… true friends, who loved me regardless and fully supported me the whole way through. How I managed to do that is beyond my comprehension, but I am infinitely grateful, because without them I would have left long ago.

I’m such a little chameleon that I fell instantly into the roll I had given myself without even questioning why I’d deemed it necessary in the first place. I had my reasons for not cutting it short, even though I’m a huge proponent of doing all you can to change your circumstances if they’re not working for you. I wasn’t going to run away for fear of missing out on an experience… and I harbor no regrets there, because I certainly got one, even if it wasn’t the one I was expecting. All the better, right?

I’ll concede that there are some things I would have done differently. Small moments remind me of this… like Summer Series a few weeks ago, a big outdoor music festival in the middle of the city at which my friends and I spent the whole day chilling out in the sun and enjoying the musical stylings of the new, old, and disbanded. [coughReductionAgentscough]… or the other night when Karen and I got all dolled up for a kiwi play featured in the Auckland Fringe. Or a simple day at the beach eating fish and chips wrapped in newspaper, or shopping spree with the girls capped with a drink in the sun and a BBQ, or nachos and a DVD with my flatmates. I spent far too much of my precious time here working to properly enjoy all that NZ in summer has to offer. But it did make the little time I did get to spend with them all the more treasured.

It’s not just me… most of the foreigners I’ve met here are in consensus that New Zealand is beautiful, but a bit boring. It is an island, after all… an island far from anything else, established by the Brits. It’s lovely to grow up here, but when you’ve been robbed and nearly arrested in Russia, taken a vow of silence in a Thai Buddhist monastery, gone mountain climbing in sneakers in Slovakia, and seen sunsets in Venice and Granada, NZ can be a bit on the dull side.

 

I’m still happy I ended up here instead of Australia, though.

 

 

So now it’s that time again… time to pack up and leave, time for reminiscence, time for anxious flutterings, and time for the ever-impossible goodbyes. Bittersweet as ever. An explosion within me.  

  

Once when I was in Asia, my dad wrote me something that made me think. He wrote to tell me that he had seen a fully arced 180° rainbow, and then over it another fully arced 180° rainbow, and his first thought was to call someone or do something. And it’s true. When you see one, more often than not you immediately panic, faced with an overwhelming desire to do something… anything… because you know it’s rare and you know it will fade in a matter of minutes. But what can you do? Besides settle down and just enjoy it before it’s gone, or maybe tell someone so they can share it with you.

We could all learn a thing or two from rainbows.

 

 xo

 

 

 

 All The Woulda-Coulda-Shouldas
Layin’ In The Sun,
Talkin’ ‘Bout The Things
They Woulda-Coulda-Shoulda Done…
But All Those Woulda-Coulda-Shouldas
All Ran Away And Hid
From One Little Did.

 

[Note: Love and sunshine to Doug for inspiring me to revisit Shel Silverstein. The stars should not be seen alone, darling.]

“Anyone from Auckland? Welome to New Zealand!”
–conductor, railway through mountains, Coromandel

 

Nearly four months have passed since I first stepped foot onto this little island nestled in the Pacific. Four months and I’m still hesitant to form an opinion of it and my time here. I suppose I learned early on that this would be a time of self-discovery, of personal experiential integration, and something like that is bound to result in a little internal conflict. Kierkegaard’s words ring in my mind: “It was completely fruitless to quarrel with the world, whereas the quarrel with oneself was occasionally fruitful and always, she had to admit, interesting.”

It was probably a poor decision to come here to work, intending to make back all my money, starting at practically zero. I should have come here to travel and moved on. I’m working 70 hour weeks now, run ragged by the time I reach my one day off [glamorous Mondays], stuck in the one city in New Zealandeveryone says to avoid, pulling in just enough funding to get me home. Were I staying, it would be fine, but since I’m facing a nasty exchange rate upon moving back to the States, my blood and sweat money will be out the window by the time I reach New York. I minor hurdle really, because I refuse to believe any money could be squandered on traveling… but I’ll admit this is not quite the life I intended when I bought a ticket to laid back NZ.

I’m living the most normal life I’m likely to ever live. I have two jobs, I have a car, I live in a big house in the suburbs, I pay taxes, I get stuck in traffic… I keep house for Karen, then I keep house at the restaurant, then I come home and keep my own house. I’m in training to be the world’s greatest housewife, which is a shame since I’ve got all those pesky ambitions. It’s just another one of those things I never saw coming, and it’s infinitely fascinating in retrospect.

Still, I was never one to wallow, and I am keeping my focus primarily on the positive. Logistically, Aucklandserves my purposes better than any other city here… the jobs pay the most, and the weather is the best, especially in the summer. I also absolutely adore my jobs. Karen and I have become fast friends, and the La Zeppa crew keeps me laughing endlessly. Just the other day, Karen took me up to this restaurant called Elevation, tucked into the lush hills overlooking the whole city and its stunning cerulean coastline, which I’m convinced changes color everyday. We ordered a couple of delectable desserts and spent an hour in the warm midday sun, chatting and taking pictures. I marveled in the greatness of my day job and sighed contentedly. And even though we were horribly busy and understaffed later on at the restaurant, which lead to me washing glasses all night, I still had big fun with my friends the whole night through, and made enough tips this week to keep me away from my bank account for a while [which is much more of a rarity here than back home].

I’ve also never been one to miss out if I can help it. I took three weeks off over the holidays and made as much of it as I could. This year was my first hot weather Christmas, which means I kept waiting for it to snow, but gave up and went to the beach instead. It didn’t feel like the holidays at all (when you don’t follow the religious or materialistic side of Christmas, it all falls to family, and since mine is a hemisphere away, it didn’t feel like much of anything, really). I ended up spending it with someone else’s family… a friend of my flatmate…. and though they made us feel welcome, it was still rather weird. Still, it was lovely of them to invite us and better than nothing at all.

New Year’s was great, though. Ten of us got together and drove to Mangawhai, a popular beach town up north, and stayed in a little chalet for two nights. We chose a bar with live music for midnight, BBQed, beached, surfed, kayaked, and jacuzzied… everything I’ve never in my life associated with January. It was gorgeous and heaps of fun.

Once we got back, I immediately jumped in my car and got on the road for some North Islandexploration. Prentice and I headed down to Taupo, the biggest lake in NZ, with crisp water and snow covered peaks in the distance. We went quad biking, which was dirty rainy kickass fun. When we were warned that those who had learned on two wheel bikes tend to have more trouble than those who had never quad biked at all, I didn’t believe it… until I ended up with two wheels spinning in the air, cursing my motorbiking days in Thailand. I got it eventually, though.

We met up with Russell and Julia, a couple from Wellington who had hitched to Taupo and who I had contacted on CouchSurfing beforehand. The four of us grabbed some dinner and hit the hot tub at our hostel, which we shared with a Scottish guy who [it turned out] not only used to live in Edinburgh, but reckons he used to get thrown out of Sandy Bell’s all the time by Josh, my best friend and former flatmate who used to work there. How incredibly small is the world?

The next day, Prentice got on a bus Auckland bound while Julia, Russell and I took off for Wellington. During the drive, we took a 15 minute scenic detour around a canyon that ended up lasting two hours because backroad NZ will swallow you whole. It was Lord of the Rings the whole way, and stunning, but after an hour we were desperate to find the main highway again, the massive sign for which I had somehow managed to completely miss. It astounds me how good I still am at getting hopelessly lost, even after two years of traveling. It makes things more interesting, though.

Wellington is a cool city, really bohemian, and it gave me the culture fix I’ve been craving. I spent most of the day in and out of museums and galleries. Te Papa, the national museum, is a must-see. Remember that colossal squid they caught a few years back? It’s on display at Te Papa, along with everything else you could possibly want to know about New Zealand. I saw an exhibit on Da Vinci’s machines, as well as a phenomenal display of Stephen Martyn Welch’s work at the Portrait Gallery [http://www.portraitgallery.nzl.org/press/smw.html]. Julia and Russell were gracious hosts, and I got some great NZ travel advice from their flatmate Craig and Juliet, his Canadian-turned-kiwi girlfriend.

After that, it was a whole lot of solo driving around the most beautiful windy mountain passes, around gorges and canyons, along shorelines, through rocks and trees and… I gave up taking photos after a while. I drove up to Gisborne, which is the eastern most part of NZ before the dateline, so the first place to see the sun. I camped on the beach and woke up to see the first sunrise in the world. Fiona and Mary, friends of Karen’s and two of the coolest people I know, let me use their beachfront batch as a campsite and cooked me a beautiful meal. I couldn’t have asked for more.

From there, I drove up to Hot Water Beach, where during low tide you can dig to thermal pockets and create your own hot tub in the sand. It was gorgeous and wonderfully relaxing, though I wish I’d found my sunscreen in the morning, instead of after a day of sunbathing in direct ozone-layer-less sunlight. I camped there for two nights before deciding to head home, but not before a quick stop in Coromandel Town for a railway ride through the mountains, up to a magnificent view. After that, I was sunburned, it was cloudy, the tide was out, and my car had just clicked over the mileage it should have hit in April and was beginning to make funny noises. I decided it was time to go back, and I was greeted with 40 kilometers of solid traffic and every red light in the city. I love you too, Auckland.

Once home, though I still had a few days before my psychotic schedule started up again, I was pretty unmotivated to go anywhere or do anything, so I spent it genuinely relaxing, plowing through books and touching the movies I hadn’t had time to look at since October. It was much needed.

When I returned from my trip, I was greeted by a pile awaiting me at the door… packages, letters, envelopes of all sizes, not to mention an inbox full of emails and messages upon popping open my laptop. The generous outreach of all my family and friends from every corner of the globe overwhelmed me and warmed my heart. Belated Christmas. Real Christmas.

I’ve since survived my first week back at work and I must say, it’s actually really nice to be back. As I said, I love my jobs, and besides, I’m now officially on an eight week countdown. I can do anything for eight weeks.

I’ll be finishing work on the 13^th of March, then exploring the South Island for three weeks, which is supposed to be the most uniquely beautiful place in the world. After that, it’s off to Australia for two weeks for the sole purpose of seeing Josh, then to LA, and from there making my way slowly east, back to New York, visiting friends along the way.

 

Time is flying, or it has lost all meaning, or both.

It doesn’t really matter, anyway.

 

xo

 

 

“Funny how we think of romance as always involving two, when the romance of solitude can be ever so much more delicious and intense. Alone, the world offers itself freely to us. To be unmasked, it has no choice.”

It’s been written that metaphors are dangerous, not to be trifled with, because a single metaphor can give birth to love; that life’s metaphors are God’s instructions.

All I know is that I’ve always been a sucker for them, because what better way of understanding something than to relate it to something you already understand? I’m also pretty sure that the beds I’ve possessed over the years have always reflected my life and mindset.

My feet dangle from the bottom of my mattress in New York whenever I go home, chilly as they escape the pure white duvet in the room I grew up in. [White is the color I chose for trim when I took it upon myself to renovate at some point in high school.] Lying in bed on the rare occasion I am home, I can’t move much without colliding with some sort of wall. I out grew it long ago, but that doesn’t stop me from snuggling deep down and drifting into a dream when I’m there. It’s still my room, after all.

I had the same bedding throughout university… golden yellow sheets beneath a navy blue comforter decorated with celestial patters, suns and moons and that. They were among the only things that came with me to all three apartments. I never stopped loving the pattern, but I couldn’t take them with me traveling, and they didn’t fit my room back home. I think they’re in a closet somewhere, but I still like them, and think of them fondly, and intend to maybe use them again one day, though they are rather juvenile, and fit for a twin.

Edinburgh was a bed not my own, sheets and quilts waiting for me upon arrival, with the exception of the extra blanket I picked up in a charity shop for a few pounds. It was surrounded by the walls my flatmate painted bright, intense, yet oddly fitting colors. The blanket stayed when I left, immersed in the rest of the bedding. I knew I’d never see it again, though it had kept me so warm on those cold Scottish nights.

The first queen I ever had was in Thailand, and it was harder than a bathroom floor. I endured it for four months, though most people couldn’t/wouldn’t have. A love/hate relationship developed, a feeling of pride and conquer coupled with a strong desire to sleep elsewhere. It was not meant to last. I’ll have another queen someday, when circumstances warrant it. Chaiyaphum was the wrong place and the wrong time.

And now I’m back in a twin, immensely soft and piled with thick blankets and quilts [again, not my own] that protect me from the bitter chill of my basement bedroom. I pushed it into the perfect fit of an alcove when I rearranged the furniture to make the room my own. I know that I will leave this bed as well one day, and again I’ve added my own touch… a blanket I swiped from a plane that, despite its weight, remained in my backpack, just in case. I will probably leave it here when I go.

Beds are where we dream. Beds are home. I’m starting to realize they represent more than we give them credit for.

I finally found my place in Auckland.

I know I’ve had a literal ‘place’ here since before I arrived. That was never an issue. But it took some time before I understood what I was meant to do in that place.

In Europe I was predominantly on my own, though I was never really alone. I met heaps of people along the way and loved them dearly before we parted ways. That’s what I was after at the time… I needed to experience as much as I could for myself, which included meeting people during my journey who fit into that place and time [usually only that place and that time]. I was by myself in the sense that my companions came with the territory, but there was almost always someone to pick up, to bond with briefly, to experience that moment with me. On the rare occasion I did find myself completely alone… a coffee shop in Stockholm comes to mind, as well as that hilltop in Nafplio, just snippets of memory here and there… I felt incomplete, wondering what my intentions were, temporarily lost. I was meant to incorporate the people of the world into my own. I was meant to love and leave. I call it ‘vagabonding.’

Asia was a time of deep bonding and [though I'm hesitant to admit it] dependence. I was almost always traveling with a friend, and when I finally settled down to teach I had a core group that was always on hand. It got to the point where activities lost their appeal if no one was game to join me in them. It was exactly what I needed. In a place more foreign than any I had yet encountered, in a time following a rather ephemeral existence plowing my way across the globe at warp speed, settling into a comfortable routine with solid rock reliable friends was necessary, even if it was, in the grand scheme of things, fleeting. I readily and happily surrendered my fierce independence to lock hips with the same folks continuously and consistently for five months; without doing so I would have been lost. I wasn’t yet ready for the isolation that would have resulted from being the only foreigner in a little Thai town, especially after being my own entity traveling through Europe with no real ties. I was spoiled and probably missed out on a very different experience, but it wasn’t my time to learn those lessons.

I found myself searching in vain for that same foundation in New Zealand, which I think accounts for my initial haunting feeling of restlessness, despite establishing a solid life so quickly. I expected to find the bonds I’d made in Ban Phe just as easily here, but my TEFL training group was a fluke… the perfect cocktail of random wanderers who happened to be at the same crossroads in life, who formed an inevitable [though completely unique] clique thereafter. We took it for granted, this absurd luck of finding each other at the very same time we were looking to find something none of us could name. It was extraordinary, and I’ve learned to not seek it here, because a new chapter has begun and my individual needs and wants have shifted.

Here in New Zealand, going over the facts in my mind, all signs are pointing to solitude, stripped of its negative connotations. The country itself is seclusion incarnate; its very geography represents finding everything one needs inside oneself, as far as you can get from the rest of the world. Tropical to arctic, there isn’t much you can’t find here, and yet one glance at a map and its isolation on a global scale is obvious. It’s an ideal location to find oneself.

Not to mention I’m working about 60 hours a week these days. I love my jobs… I need them for more than financial reasons. Caring for Karen is more rewarding than I anticipated, and it’s actually pretty nice to be back in a restaurant, doing what I do well. It’s a good test of character for me, keeping in high spirits despite my sleep-depriving schedule. I’m also learning to take the best possible care of myself out of pure necessity, because I’m going to need all the energy I can get. Overall, though it may run me down and burn me out, I will probably be in my healthiest state when I’m through. Mainly because I will be forced to learn balance, a lesson I’ve been trying to master my entire life… my biggest challenge, constantly, through and through.

Once I finally realized that this is a time to be on my own, once I stopped looking and waiting for an adventure buddy, I was at peace. I compiled a list of must-sees and must-dos in New Zealand and have been slowly chipping away at it, just me and my car. Nissa is all I need these days, and I’ve developed a deep affection for her. [Hopefully a small lesson in car maintenance will come out of this experience as well. Goodness knows I could use one.] Yesterday I spent a few hours at the Auckland Museum, learning about a multitude of subjects, including Maori culture. I took Rushdie on a picnic atop Mt Eden afterward, a dormant volcano with stunning views of the city and beyond. This morning I went to the zoo, which was nice though slightly mediocre, especially for someone with aspirations to see Africa one day. Everyone said I had to go though, so I did, and I harbor no regrets. This weekend was only the tip of my to-see-to-do list iceburg, but it reinforced my contentment of this plan of mine, to revolve my experiences in this country around the things I want to do and see, regardless of company. It’s going to be a beautiful few months.

I fully intend to expend New Zealand. I’ll slowly see the north over weekends, and take bigger [and much anticipated] trips down south over the holidays and at the end of my stay. When I leave, I’m quite looking forward to state-hopping my way back to New York, visiting friends, immersing and reacquainting myself with my country. Summer is up in the air, let alone the time that will follow, but my plate is full enough in the meantime.

All I’ve ever really needed is a rough outline, the most important feature of which being the possibility that everything can change.

I’ve plastered my room with photos and maps. A map of the world and detailed maps of the North and South Islands. Photos my family, of New York, of my travels, of Edinburgh, of Thailand, my students and my friends, and a growing cluster reserved for New Zealand. For this particular phase of my life requires integration of the pieces into the whole, remembering where I’ve been and keeping in sight where I’m going. It’s a balancing act, one that will [appropriately] require both care and foolishness.

Here goes.

 
xo

        For a long while I have believed … that in every generation there are a few souls, call them lucky or cursed, who are simply born not belonging, who come into the world semi-detached, if you like, without strong affiliation to family or location or nation or race; that there may even be millions, billions of such souls, as many non-belongers as belongers, perhaps; that, in sum, the phenomenon may be as “natural” a manifestation of human nature as its opposite, but one that been mostly frustrated, throughout human history, by lack of opportunity.
        And not only by that: for those who value stability, who fear transience, uncertainty, change, have erected a powerful system of stigmas and taboos against rootlessness, that disruptive, anti-social force, so that we mostly conform, we pretend to be motivated by loyalties and solidarities we do not really feel, we hide our secret identities beneath the false skins of those identities which bear the belongers seal of approval. But the truth leaks out in our dreams; alone in our beds (because we are all alone at night, even if we do not sleep by ourselves), we soar, we fly, we flee. And in the waking dreams our societies permit, in our myths, our arts, our songs, we celebrate the non-belongers, the different ones, the outlaws, the freaks. What we forbid ourselves we pay good money to watch, in a play-house or movie theatre, or to read about between the secret covers of a book. Our libraries, our places of entertainment tell the truth. The tramp, the assassin, the rebel, the thief, the mutant, the outcast, the delinquent, the devil, the sinner, the traveler, the gangster, the runner, the mask: if we did not recognize in them our least-fulfilled needs, we would not invent them over and over again, in every place, in every language, in every time.
        No sooner did we have ships than we rushed to sea, sailing across oceans in paper boats. No sooner did we have cars than we hit the road. No sooner did we have airplanes then we zoomed to the furthers corners of the globe. Now we yearn for the moon’s dark side, the rocky plains of Mars, the rings of Saturn, the interstellar deeps. We send mechanical photographers into orbit, or on one-way journeys to the stars, and we weep at the wonders they transmit; we are humbled by the mighty images of far-off galaxies standing like cloud pillars in the sky, and we give names to alien rocks, as if they were our pets. We hunger for warp space, for the outlying rim of time. And this is the species that kids itself it likes to stay at home, to bind itself with — what are they called again? — ties.
        That’s my view. You don’t have to buy it. Maybe there aren’t so many of us, after all. Maybe we are disruptive and anti-social and we shouldn’t be allowed. You’re entitled to your opinion. All I will say is: sleep soundly, baby. Sleep tight and sweet dreams.

I owe the world a New Zealand update, I know.

I’ve been putting off writing this entry mainly because my circumstances, opinions, and outlooks have been changing daily, and I’m afraid that anything I write will become moot the second I post it. But things have finally settled a bit, and I believe I’ve finally reached a point where I can recount some of my experiences thus far.

The beginning is as good a place as any to start, I suppose…

I arrived in Auckland after a harrowing journey through several time zones. Doing the math I realized I hadn’t slept in 24 hours by the time I landed, though it never really hit me. I guess by now I’m a seasoned traveller, impervious to time changes and jet lag and other such nonsense, and (let’s give credit where credit is due) there’s something to be said for adrenaline.

Through a series of fateful twists I ended up in a beautiful house in the suburbs of Auckland… one of the richest suburbs in New Zealand, in fact, though my room is more than affordable. My housemates have been an instant family from the beginning. There’s Chantelle from South Africa, who’s the sweetest little thing you could ever hope to meet; Nicky, a Kiwi originally though only recently stepped foot back onto NZ soil after 12 years in Denmark and Scandinavia… she’s studying to be a social worker and we’ve got heaps in common; Emma is from Thailand (yay!) and is just as nuts as I’d expect… I loved her immediately; Eliana is from Chile and we’re resolved to teach each other our respective languages; and poor Prentice is the only guy, which he handles with grace and finesse… he’s a Kiwi, a designer, a stand-up gentleman, and has taken on the role of everyone’s brother.

I haven’t been home much lately, however, because I went and got myself a few jobs and [inadvertently] a few cars as well. I got hired full time at an upscale tapas bar in the city. It’s a great place… I’ve worked in a lot of restaurants and I can tell that these guys really know what they’re doing. The staff is cool and hip and funny as hell, management is approachable and keeps things in order, and the clientele are business execs who can be a bit high-and-mighty but we’re encouraged to hold our own if they give us a hard time. Overall, I got pretty lucky to have found this place.

I also got hired to care for a woman with a spinal injury. Karen is in her 30s and lost the use of her limbs in an accident. I’m still sorting through paperwork with the agency that hired me for her, so I haven’t started working with or even met her yet, but I’m really looking forward to it, even though it will mean working 8am-midnight most days. I think I can handle it, and it’ll be nice to be busy again, not to mention build my travel fund back up.

What else? Ah, yes! The car. Well, I was dumb and apparently needed to learn a lesson I should have known already… went and bought a car without checking it first, and it died on me. Sigh. That’s what I get. But mistakes like that tend to only be made once, and I did it right the next time around. I found a lovely little green Nissan Primera that runs like a dream. Her name’s Nissa, based on how Kiwis pronounce the make. We’re going to see some things together, me and Nissa.

But for now it’s just work work work, I’m afraid. I’ve got to keep my head down and make back some funding for the time being before I can take a look around. I’m a bit worried about having settled in Auckland, because I know it’s not representative of New Zealand, and as soon as I get down to Wellington and Christchurch and the rest of this spectacular country I’ll be kicking myself for staying here, but I don’t mind. I’m on this side of the world for six or seven months, and in that time I’m determined to thoroughly explore every piece of New Zealand. Today I bought a bunch of maps and surrounded myself with them, plastering the walls of my tiny room with plans, schemes, and memories.

Things have been in chaos while I’ve been between cars. The restaurant keeps me in the city after buses and trains stop running, so I’ve been crashing in backpackers and with couch surfers. The other night was the first I’ve spent in my own bed in a week… but things are calming, routines are setting in, and my restlessness is subsiding (though not completely… never completely). I’ve been reading a lot; I discovered the library very fast and hold my library card in higher regard than most other things I possess. My guitar popped a string. I should probably do something about that.

When I have had time to spare I’ve spent it out on the town with my roommates; on a beach adventure with Itai, a fellow traveler from Israel, that ended in my car overheating [but not before a lovely picnic]; galavanting through town [including a gay bar one night until an easy 4am] with Fede from Uruguay who I met on the airport bus into the city when I landed; and spending time with Tracey, who’s been housesitting her way through New Zealand and finding time to explore a bit with me. I got lost [as perusual] on the way to see her in Muriwai Beach the other day… just driving an hour south for no reason… and didn’t regret it at all. This country really is breathtaking, and while everyone says that, it’s still shocking when you experience it for yourself. I’m thirsty to get down south…

…but one venture at a time. This is my time to play house for a while, and I’m alright with that.

For now, here I sit, in my new room, wrapped in a blanket, watching the last of my Phuket skin flake off my arms… yet another chapter is open and scribbling. We’ll see how this one ends…

…and I’m taking bets as to how long it’ll take me to start saying “sweet as” on a regular basis. Inquire within.

xo

p.s. This entry was a bit cut and dry, I realize. Everything has been moving so fast, that’s all I have the energy and attention for at the moment. Hopefully my next will be a bit more insightful. For now, I’m fried.

There we stand, about to fly
Peeking down over land, parachute behind
What was that moment for which we live?
Without a parachute, about to dive

Find my self convincing
Blindly falling faster
How easy
Know the place I’m leaving
And the rest is just gone

Oh, the adoration
But how much strength does it take
For exploration?
For split decision?
Are you stronger to remain?

It crept up on me
Ignored all my pleas
Begging to believe
No justice to name me
Fell out of the sky
Cease it to be
Without a reply
Gravity fails me
When I awoke
I knew what was real
Hope to convince you
Lies they all torture me
Opened the door
Knew what was me
I finally realized

Parachute over me.

The traffic of the crossroads, and playing therein.

 

I’ve written countless blog entries of this nature from this very internet cafe in Bangkok… on the verge of some major transition, contemplating the ever-bittersweet ying-yang symbiosis of endings and beginnings, grateful for my (natural or learned?) ability to live completely in the present, since the past and future are overwhelming to consider (independently, let alone together). I’m off to
New Zealand tomorrow, clocking my time in Thailand at roughly six months, and leaving the timer running on my time away from home… the longest bout to date, not to mention the farthest.

 

I finished up my semester at Satri with smiles, tears, and a heavy heart. It was more difficult to leave than I’d anticipated… half my kids were in tears, and they gave me lovely gifts as we chatted about the future and took some final photos. I’ll miss my students dearly, but I’ve already received an email from one of them, so hopefully it’ll be possible to keep in touch. This experience has gotten me seriously considering a teaching career. I can’t help but wonder, if I can connect with these kids, what could I do with students who fully understand my language? At any rate, it’s something to consider.

 

Bidding my friends farewell was just as hard, though those goodbyes will take a bit longer to sink in. Rodney was the first, off to Angkor Wat to kick off a whirlwind three-week tour of southeast Asia as only Rodney could dream up and pull off. It was tough to see him go, since I’ve spent the most time with him by far. It’s already strange not to see him every day. Carissa was next, up north to Laos through the flood that has plagued Chaiyaphum for a week now. (Getting everyone to the bus station was tricky, but lots of fun. There were kids swimming in the streets, BBQs on the side of the road, and one guy even had a remote control boat he was driving around. Nothing like a natural disaster to bring a neighborhood together.) Rob and Mike then headed out, leaving behind a very disappointed Andrew, who had been planning on joining them before he managed to contract Dengay fever. On Monday I left myself, off to Phuket to spend some time with Beth and Mia, and to see Eric, who is doing his own teacher training down there. After a day on a bus, I finally made it and met up with the girls, as well as two of Beth’s friends from Korea. We spent the next few days enjoying the breathtaking scenery, motorbiking around the island, being beach bums, paying way too much for everything, and doing our best to convince people that we speak Thai and hate typical tourists, who were everywhere. It was nothing short of lovely to see Eric again. His training group reminds me much of my own, and he’s got a great set-up… training in a tropical paradise and teaching in a cool Thai town a stone’s throw from Bangkok. We’ve each come a long way as individuals and it was nice to see a familiar face. It’s an amazing thing watching your friends grow up… they force you to reflect upon your own progress. If you’re lucky, both will make you smile.

 

I flew back to Bangkok on Friday, meeting some interesting characters along the way (slipping comfortably back into my old travel self after a six month hiatus… ever the backpacker). There was Judy, a 60-year-old Australian woman who completely deflated all the jaded feelings festering inside me after living in Thailand for so long. Her husband of 32 years had recently died of cancer, and now she’s engaged again to another guy she’s crazy about. She had never really traveled, but the family across the street had invited her to Thailand and the travel bug had bitten hard. In seven days she had ridden an elephant, gone parasailing, white water rafted, and all kinds of other amazing Thai activities astounding for a woman her age. Her energy and enthusiasm were contagious and inspiring. Then I met Mark, a Russian guy who provided a great chat about the state of the world, politics, and the major differences (which we both agreed are actually similarities) between Russia and America. We played Connect Four and Jenga in the airport, acknowledging and musing at the fact that had we been doing so twenty years ago there would be KGB agents watching our every move. The world is such a volatile place.

 

Once in Bangkok I spent a quiet goodbye weekend with Scott, indulging in Western foods and drinks, and for the most part just wandering around. Sold some stuff, bought some stuff, and gathered my remaining stuff for its overseas journey tomorrow. A few hours ago I tearfully put Scott on a bus and set out for my last night in Thailand, which will likely be spent much like many of my previous nights in Thailand… sweating under a fan, reading a freshly purchased second-hand book, trying to figure out how to further limit my already limited possessions, and letting the past and future swirl, twirl, and dance flippantly around my mind, bathing in memories and prospects to come.

 

xo

if we can call them friends then we can call them on red telephones
and they won’t pretend that they’re too busy or they’re not alone
if we can call them friends we can call them
holler at them down these hallowed halls
just don’t let the human factor fail to be a factor at all

don’t you worry about the atmosphere
or any sudden pressure change
’cause I know that it’s starting to get warm in here
and things are starting to get strange

and did you see how all our friends were there?
and they’re drinking roses from the can
and how I wish I had talked to them
and I wish they fit into the plan.

I know we’re gonna meet someday in the crumbled financial institutions of this land
there will be tables and chairs
there will be pony rides and dancing bears
there’ll even be a band
’cause, listen, after the fall there’ll be no more countries
no currencies at all
we’re gonna live on our wits
gonna throw away survival kits
trade butterfly knives for adderal
and that’s not all
there will be snacks, there will
there will be snacks.

so don’t you
don’t you worry
about the atmosphere.

In a tranquil whisper of some unnoticed moment in time, I was ambushed by the halfway mark. It’s unfathomably August, and I’ve only got six weeks left in this beguiling little teaching experiment of mine. Doing the math this morning, I realized that by the time I leave here I will have spent more time in Asia than in Europe, though it doesn’t feel that way at all. Surely the perpetual summer of this continent has added an extra layer to the onion of sur-reality [time has been difficult enough to gauge and follow while traveling without eliminating the passing of seasons], but it still somehow shocks me. My trip and my life become less and less planned as time goes on, which of course injects an element of surprise into all unfolding events… but I still can’t help feeling like my bafflement of it all should have subsided by now. I guess beginnings and endings never really lose their impact, no matter how many you encounter.

I’m trying to not think about leaving this place, but the thought inevitably creeps in every now and again. There is a lot here that I’ll be grateful to get away from… I’m getting tired of being stared at all the time; it will be nice to be able to lean over to any person I wish and be understood; and I’m looking forward to the day when the first thing I see when I walk into a supermarket isn’t a massive display of fish sauce. But it’s going to be incredibly odd to leave all of my friends. I’ve never spent this much time with anyone before; I’ve seen them literally every single day for what will amount to five months straight… I didn’t even spend that much time with my flatmates in Edinburgh [and we lived together!]… but, come October, it’ll be goodbye for who-knows-how-long-maybe-forever? It’s tough not to think about that sometimes, even if there is a corresponding voice in my head screaming at me to just enjoy it rather than miss it already. There will be plenty of time to miss it later; it’s not dead yet.

At the same time, getting back on the road recently has revived my itchy feet, and I’m stoked to start traveling again, even if it’s only for a short while. Last week was sports week at my school, which meant no classes as the students competed in various games and matches. Rodney and I stuck around for the opening ceremonies on Monday, but then took advantage of the time off with a trip to Sukhothai, the ancient capital, for some rest, relaxation, and ruins. It was very last minute, but turned out to be perfect. We arrived in the middle of the night after some confusion with out connecting bus in Khon Kaen [our 6:30 bus became an 8:00 bus… long story.], but still managed to find a reasonable tuk tuk driver and a great room. We spent two days exploring the ruins on our trusty rented bike we dubbed “pink lightning” due to it’s comically Barbie-esque hue, enjoying the scenery and the odd sensation [for me, anyway] of being back on the tourist trail. White people and English menus threw me through a bit of a loop, and I got tired of telling my story just as quickly as ever. Nonetheless, a taste of Western life [no matter how contrived] is nice every now and again. It was also great to be able to have a little chat with a local in Thai, then turn around and say “bonjour” to a French tour group passing by, then strike up a conversation in Spanish with a couple from Madrid. I am by no means good at languages [I respect, admire, and am infinitely jealous of people like Mia who can pick them up like *that*], and it’s not that traveling has given me a knack for learning them, but it has taught me to comfortably switch between them, which I’ve found quite handy. People respond well when you try to accommodate them, even if the attempt is feeble and doesn’t carry you very far.

It was nice to travel with Rodney. Between us we have a good skill set for travel, and we already see each other every day at school and the apartment, so it didn’t take a major adjustment. We hit a bit of a snag on the way back when our bus broke down, delaying us four hours and forcing us to stay an extra night in Khon Kaen, but we made the most of it. We found a dirt cheap room, wandered around, and got the first bus back to Chaiyaphum in the morning. We were back in school by 9:30 on Friday, just in time to get some work done during the day and attend the teachers’ party at 4:00… which turned out to be all the Satri teachers drinking whiskey and singing karaoke in the gym.

There are some things I am going to miss.

xo

[Author’s note: I couldn’t decide on a quote, so I’ll simply conclude this entry with several and you can decide which is the most fitting. I’ll even credit them this time.]

“Time, of course, topples everyone in its path equally — the way that driver beat his old horse until it died on the road. But the thrashing we receive is one of frightful gentleness. Few of us even realise that we are being beaten.”
–Haruki Murakami

“But today he only saw one of the river’s secrets, one that gripped his soul. He saw that the water continually flowed and flowed and yet it was always there; it was always the same and yet every moment it was new.”
–Herman Hesse

“In the end, though, maybe we must all give up trying to pay back the people in this world who sustain our lives. In the end, maybe it’s wiser to surrender before the miraculous scope of human generosity and to just keep saying thank you, forever and sincerely, for as long as we have voices.”
–Elizabeth Gilbert

“I am imagining a paradise in which there is no lack of time. I would like for everyone to have so plentifully much time, and everyone such an excellent memory, that eventually, over time, everyone will have been everyone else. Do you see? In the length of history everyone will have been all the other people in the world. And then for once finally we will treat each other well. You and I will treat each other perfectly.”
–Benjamin Kunkel

“But why think about that when all the golden land’s ahead of you and all kinds of unforeseen events wait lurking to surprise you and make you glad you’re alive to see?”
–Jack Kerouac

Adaptation.

It’s a perfectly natural part of every living creature’s existence, quite essential for survival. Humans are no exception, though as conscious beings capable of contemplating their own fate, it can be disappointing. I find that every time I stop traveling for an extended period of time, where I am becomes nearly irrelevant. Regardless of how new and different life in a foreign setting may be, routines inevitably emerge and ‘normal’ begins to shift in definition. Adaptation is unavoidable, and the more you embrace it and hone it as a skill, the easier everyday life will become… though an unfortunate side effect will be everyday life melting into life as a whole, and the occasional realization that everything is being taken for granted.

So though I’m living in Isan teaching in a Thai high school, in a universe light years away from what most people I know could ever fathom, life has still managed to become static. It’s when I get out of town and revisit the road that I fall in love with Thailand all over again. Motorbiking through winding mountain passes, past rice paddy fields and palm tree covered hills, under billowy clouds and a scorching sun that claws at your skin through the wind on your face… I remember how I felt when I first landed in Asia.

I got my first taste of revival on our weekend trip to Nong Bua Daeng to visit Alison and Lise a few weeks back. Taking photographs from the back of Andrew’s bike, driving in the general direction of some caves we had heard about, parking and hiking through the thicket of some random mountain when we couldn’t drive any further (on a path we pretty much made up as we went along), and Carissa buying baby chickens in a night market for five baht each. I drove home with Rodney in a dreamy sleepy daze, warmly reminded of why I love this country.

This past weekend offered a similar experience. It was our much awaited four day holiday weekend (Buddhist lent) that we’d been planning for a month… or trying to, at least… plans ended up being pretty last minute anyway, as they usually are. The boys decided to head over to Ko Chang for a few days on an island, while Carissa, Mia, Beth and I opted for Phetchaburi, shooting for mountain treks and camping as well as some beach time. After school on Wednesday we caught the bus down to Bangkok and met up on Khao San Road, including Scott who had decided to join us instead of the guys at the last minute. We had a typical Bangkok evening, got on a bus the next day to Phetchaburi, and spent a quiet rainy night reading and chatting in our little guest house (joined at this point also by Kai, Carissa’s boyfriend). We took off for Chaam on Friday (the less popular beach in the area) and immediately jumped into the ocean, then sprawled ourselves out in the sun, wandered around eating street food, watched the beach-goers, enjoyed a beautiful rainbow that decided to surprise us, and drank some beers in the sand under the full moon while hypnotized by the lightening over the horizon. We got a cheap hotel and in the morning bid the boys farewell (Kai had a flight back to India and Scott wanted to get back to Chaiyaphum). The girls and I then rented motorbikes and took off for Thailand’s largest national park. It was a beautiful day through some breathtaking scenery, and it’s a shame we didn’t have time to do some camping, but we can save it for next time. We got back to town seconds before an immense downpour and boarded a bus back to Bangkok, solely to catch the new Batman flick (and who can blame us?). We found a guest house in the pouring rain at 2am, slept in, got Indian food for breakfast/lunch, did some shopping, tooled around, and hopped on a late bus bound for home.

It was the perfect mix of all the great things Thailand has to offer, and a desperately needed break from reality. Now it’s back to the grind, but at least I had some time to clear my head… not to mention a chance to rediscover the country I’ve so readily adapted to and learn to appreciate it all over again.

xo

well, I just wanna laugh my way through life
and not worry about
whether they think what I’m doing is wrong or right
‘cause I’ve got so much to learn
and you know this fire’s just dying to burn…