the continuation and re-ending of Otter and Seal

So, when my longtime partner in crime Sencha Mujer Otterchoa departed Olympia, I didn’t expect we would ever occupy the same city again. Ergo, her relocation to Australia was a welcome and surprising delight.

I’m never at a loss for amazement that sometimes you get to share life with people who are so magnificent. This one is ready to join in on any adventure I might imagine. Prepared to propose adventures which I wouldn’t imagine. Ready with pizza upon my landing[s] at [all] the airport[s]. And soup on my sick days. And cookies before I crave them. And tea when I awaken. (We like food.) And surprises for no reason. Ready with patience when I’m grumpy. With energy when I’m exhausted. With encouragement when I’m defeated. With solid advice and understanding for any situation I fall into. With enthusiasm every day of the week. Ready for chips (fries), always.

I think relationships at their very best look like people allowing each other to be themselves, uncompromisingly. Creating an atmosphere that is both comfortable and safe for the other to flourish. Being both encouraging and challenging. That’s exactly the space we’ve had in Melbourne (and beyond). Such a beautiful foundation for intentional and incandescent living. I’ve felt so nourished and supported. So ready to exist fully.

This past year has seen a lot of kilometres of gorgeous landscape and fun experiences on the road. It has also seen days and weeks and months of simple life conducted out of a cozy [partial] home. It has been an exceptionally creative time for me (I think it’s safe to say for both of us). Creative cooking based on whatever seasonal, local produce we’ve found delivered in our CERES boxes. Gourmet road trip meals mostly-suited to the desert, or to the bone-deep winter of Tassie. Sewing projects beyond my experience, painting, card games, reading and other shenanigans at Bar Josephine. Filling scrapbooks from an entire country. Braiding, knotting, macrame-ing a sea glass toned collection of anklets. Threading together film clips of a gorgeous island state. I struggle with motivation, often. But this year has been so full. Of experiences. Of growth. Of satisfaction. I attribute this to having a really solid foundation. One which was created, significantly, by this gorgeous friendship. By this caring and conscious individual. It feels good to be ready for life. It feels good to have the energy and the space to live well. And while Melbourne is filled with so much excellence and so many stellar people of it’s own accord, it is this human, as always, who has filled so much of my heart. And filled my life with so much more than I would’ve had on my own.

Thanks Mujer for a year of epic goodness. Thanks for making me more me. Thanks for changing the fabric of this city for a year. I love you endlessly.

As a side note that deserves (and will have) its own note (eventually): While we’ve created our own precious space, we’ve also had so many people adopt us into their homes and their lives, and we wouldn’t have loved this place so much without all of you who have been there for us. Our hearts are full! 💕

the crumpet fiasco

Somehow I had gotten it into my head that crumpets would be an excellent road trip food. Not like, store bought crumpets. No. Crumpets from scratch. So in our trip preparations we bought egg rings and yeast and Sunita dutifully let me make my usual overambitious and absurd plans. However, the desert is decidedly less ubiquitous with its gas bbqs than other parts of Australia. So I had been putting off the crumpet endeavours. But after a full day of hiking and swimming and being in the sun, making and eating real food sounded like a hassle. And for once we had heaps of daylight left after arriving at our roomy desert camp for the evening. I decided today was the day. The day for crumpets. The perfect road trip food.

So I retrieved my little handwritten recipe and set about the process. Our soymilk was cold and I needed warm milk for yeast activating purposes. I could’ve used our camp stove. But instead, I set the container I had chosen, our large jar normally reserved for iced tea (our best reprieve from the heat), on the hood of the car. Sunita noticed this, and suggested popping the hood instead. Which I agreed was, in fact, a superior method. So there we were with the hood open and a jar of yeasty sugar milk resting on our seemingly ever-warm engine. (A fellow camper checked to make sure we weren’t having car issues.) Next, everything else gets mixed in and then it rests for forty-five minutes and gets all fermenty. This was the point where I set it well away from us since the flies had taken particular interest in it’s rich, quickly souring aroma. Also, where I realized, in hindsight, that I should’ve halved the recipe. We’d be eating crumpets forever.

We were cramped together in the way way back of our Honda CR-V. It was too warm to be in the car, but the alternative – being outside, but covered in flies – was worse. Would you rather? In an almost unprecedented scenario, I’d choose heat. Anyways. It occurred to me, suddenly, the near certainty of this crumpet mixture rising beyond its vessel’s capacity. I braved the flies to check on it. Before even reaching it I notice the once flat top had become a bulbous mound. Damn. And then everything is moving in fast forward and I’m covered in a sticky fly-attracting white goo for the next hour. My elbows to my fingertips unusable for anything unrelated to crumpetry. Unsuitable really even for that. The batter covered tea towel gets left in the dirt, the ever erupting jar needs constant attention to keep the flies from claiming our precious crumpets-to-be as their own. Sunita prepares the stove and everything to start cooking this underdone concoction immediately. As It turns out, I wasn’t feeling patient enough to use the egg rings and make proper crumpets in these conditions. They were more like crumpet pancakes. Which, hybrid pastries are like a major trend right now, hey? Cruffins and cronuts and the lot. We didn’t have the means to properly clean the jar or the tea towel so they got disappeared into the roof pod for future us to deal with. Meanwhile the desert floor is dotted with little crumpet puffs that got smattered about (and cooked!) while I was attempting to both pour crumpet batter and swat away the damned flies. I’d like to say we had a nice meal of crumpet pancakes (Sunita didn’t appreciate the title of ‘crumpcakes.’) but realistically, as soon as the less-than-successful crumpets were slathered in butter and honey the flies became absolutely frenzied and we had to fight viciously for each bite. My hands were still covered in dried batter and plenty of red dust. Still, I licked the precious Tasmanian pepper berry honey from my fingers.

So yeah. I guess this is what we get up to. On our road trips. In the desert. Needless to say, I have conceded that crumpets are best left to a kitchen environment…

Western Tasmania

cows cows

The way I heard it, the reason behind the ubiquitous free BBQs throughout Australia is due to hooligans vandalising their coin operated predecessors. That the government did some calculations and figured it would actually cost them less to provide the BBQs for free, than to keep sending repairmen to fix them (in other words: remove all of the foreign objects lodged into the coin slots by said hooligans attempting to BBQ their food at the mere price of game tokens or wood chips or bits of plastic.)

Anyways, there is now a generous smattering of electric BBQs across the country, and Sunita and I have made excellent use of them. It seems like every meal we have is rich with the smokey char of grilled veggies. By now we have arguably mastered most foods on the grill. Fried eggs were problematic at first, but you learn quickly. You can toast bread pretty well in a makeshift oven with those standard metal camping plates. We even finally found that we could simultaneously boil our tea water in a pot in one corner. Thus, BBQs have become an indelible part of our daily map.

We’re pretty fancy with our meals on the road. Breakfast is pretty easy with standard eggs on toast or porridge with an array of toppings. Lunch is often leftovers from the previous night’s dinner. For dinner we get creative. We’ve had curries; gnocchi with pumpkin cream sauce or eggplant, cauliflower and lemon cream; thick, juicy mushroom burgers with local pepper berry cheese and a host of toppings and condiments; Ethiopian style lentils and veggies over cous cous (everything with cous cous because it cooks so quickly); pasta loaded with grilled veggies and a rich nutmeat; burritos with sweet potatoes and black beans, or grilled veggies and – wait for it – cous cous; sloppy BBQ sandwiches; various soups. We’re never bored with our food. But we always have heaps of dishes at the end of the day. And in winter, cold water dish washing is not a pleasant task. I’ve taken to stealing the last dregs of the BBQ’s heat to warm plates of water, so that at least the scrubbing portion is okay. Your hands go numb with the rinsing, but when mouse inhabitants (more on that later) are the alternative to fastidious dish washing, you sacrifice your hands.The unfortunate combination of cold and a pre-five-o’clock-sunset has led to much extended sleeping hours. Try as I might to keep occupied in the evenings, when I am lying in a warm, cozy bed there is just nothing left but surrender to sleep. The eastern side of the state has proven a more manageable climate. At least my nose doesn’t freeze and I can spend some hours reading and writing in addition to our usual routine of listening to a podcast or audiobook. At Friendly Beaches we stayed out well past the sun. We spent our dinner watching pinks and purples wash across the sky. Then we had several walks in hopes of spotting wildlife. We saw various macropods, a large wombat, a spotted quoll, and a brush tail possum. We were pleased with our platonic hunt. We caught the sunrise, too, in an array of orange and red that faded into a warm teal in tones reminiscent of Miami Vice.
At breakfast we had an insistent wallaby guest who was well curious of our goings on. He munched on ferns and eucalyptus with a flurry of fairy wrens fluttering at his feet. Wallabies seem like the friendliest of the locals in general. We had another instance where a couple joined us during our dinner prep and were most interested in the radio lab episode we were listening to. We both suspected one might grab the speaker in its altogether too-short- for-such-a-task arms and take off with it.  But it merely gave the glowing device and inquisitive lick and continued listening with us. The wombats on the other hand appear far speedier in Tasmania, and want nothing to do with us. Unlike the thoroughly apathetic wombats of Victoria. We love them all the same. We’ve sought out several colonies of our old friends, the glow worms. The first was with a proper tour in a gorgeous cave, but the glow worm experience wasn’t very lovely or intimate. We explored another cave on our own, plus an old tunnel, and finally a “grotto” of fern dwelling glow worms. Soft constellations of blue scattered across the Tasmanian darkness. I admit I am as captivated by their brilliant bioluminescence as their unwitting prey. We’ve yet to spot glowing fungi, so-called sea sparkle, or the bewitching Aurora Australis, as I had hoped. But I suppose that is much to ask of one venture. The stars are brilliant here. The bright smear of the milky way adorns the night as though it is commonplace. Shimmering planets making bold appearances as early as 6pm. We feel spoiled on clear nights. I joked about seeing a shooting star as I squatted for a piss outside the van one night, but it was was a commonplace magic. Exquisite events are occurring constantly, and available to be witnessed by those who put themselves in situations to do so. I always wonder why I don’t make sunrises/sunsets a priority when I am viewing one. Cascades pouring water down endless rock faces, thundering, damp lush scents. Ferns and every manner of flora unfurling in forests and jungles in meadows and mountains. Ocean reaching onto the sand and curling ever back into its own mass. Salty. Teals and blues, greens and greys. It is a privilege to bask in this sense soaked island.

wild narcotic

It would be easy to confuse Tasmania with some mythical land. Ever since our arrival on the ferry from Melbourne, we have been nothing less than awestruck and wonder filled. Each day holds a trove of new delights. Every new grid mark of map we explore presents a fresh display of landscapes composed of grand scenes and tiny ecosystems.The great and bountiful west treated us to days of cold, mist scattered weather. I found myself fattened by layers composed of all the warm clothing I own worn all at once. My feet too thick with socks to fit properly into my Dr Martens. I quickly surmised that the entire month of photos would be nearly indistinguishable by a decided lack of variety in attire. I would quickly acquire an additional dandelion coloured knit cap (from an op shop) and wool gloves the colour of deep red poppies (from the gift store at Cradle Mountain) for their very necessary added warmth. The cold I could dress for, but the rain was something for which I never felt prepared. My several-year-old rain jacket now leaks with barely any prompting. My legs constantly exposed. My gum boots leave my toes numb. But, we are Olympians, at least in part. And we weren’t to be deterred from our brimming itinerary. Our time was precious, and carrying on essential.Our first camp overlooked the ocean, not so far from the ferry port. I had romantic ideas of waking to ocean views – perhaps a watercolour sunrise from under the covers. What I had drastically underrated however, was the astounding level of condensation created by two adults over the course of nearly-twelve-hour nights in deep winter (astonishingly close to Antarctica). Come morning, we saw only moist blurs of light, and cautiously avoided contact with the sides of the van. Opening the windows or the back wasn’t an option either, as the cold wind from the ocean was about as welcome as the devil himself. The sunrises we would happen to catch during our month long travels were heavily bundled forays into the great outdoors, abandoning our wet-breath-covered, nice-view-obscuring vessel of a van.

There was more than one instance of mis-planning. Or rather, lack of comprehension of Tasmanian roads. For instance, the day we thought we could continue on from “The Edge of the World.” As the name implies, there is no going on. We had to unexpectedly backtrack our entire day’s journey. It was less enchanting the second time around. The fact that our phone service in this state is minimal and our GPS has become suddenly perplexed at everything we ask of it doesn’t improve upon our issues. It’s not so bad, I suppose, when anywhere you end up looks like a postcard waiting to be printed. Getting lost equates to finding unplanned lovely scenery.

namaste to all of my outside forces

This is not my first ‘in between’ period in life. And during the first of them, I learned quite solidly that it was hardly a mere in between. It was after I dropped out of college, after the cafe where I was going to work closed down suddenly, and before I moved to Gainesville to work on starting The Heart & Soul Cafe. Those six months ‘in between’ were some of the most weighted, in terms of being shaped, of my life. The relationships I formed that formed so much of who I am and how I interact with people today. The pursuit of real intentionality. The letting go of external affirmation.
In Gainesville as well, despite having five different sources of income, I had an abundance of free time. And with my newfound knowledge that busyness is not synonymous with important or valuable, I did not seek to participate in more activities. I decided to instead focus on forging a foundation and growing from there. I started exercising regularly for the first time in my life. I ran every single day. Christy and I became vegan for the year, and we spent a lot of time focusing on what nutrients we were putting into our bodies, in addition to what levels of deliciousness we were putting on the table. I sought to balance social time and solitude. I actually had the space to look at all of the ways in which I spend my time, and ask whether each one was really important to me. And why it was important to me. I learned that so much of how I filled my time was due to this feeling of cultural or social obligation. I didn’t actually want to be that busy, I just felt like I was supposed to. So I let some things go. Others I added. But intentionality became an absolute priority in my life.

I think I have the propensity to come off as quite whimsical and spontaneous. And while I can enjoy those attitudes, I function better with discipline. The times in my life that I have taken the time and energy to build really solid foundations, to set in place frameworks for my life, I have thrived.

These first few months in Australia have not looked like I would have imagined, had I tried to build a picture in my mind. In some fabulous ways, as straightaway I’ve gotten to experience some gems in random corners of Victoria. But I’m nearly two months in now, and I have a copious amount of unoccupied time to manage. The first two weeks I was here I spent all of my non-adventure time recuperating from the three months of transversing the US and Canada. And that felt great, that felt right. And then I had some more adventures available to me, so I decided to put off finding a job even further. Which took me to just before Christmas, handing out my cv. As it turns out, I only applied for two jobs, two that I would be really excited to get. Unfortunately, due to holidays, the whole process has been dragged out for a few weeks. Which, again, so many empty days. I’ve been systematically exploring Melbourne, and on the days where it’s not sweltering, that has been fun. Anna and I bought proper maps of the city and markers to fill in where we’ve been and what we’ve seen and what’s been good. And I am filling a notebook with my hopes for and experiences in this city. But, these things cost money if you want to do them properly. I have plenty of savings to last until I acquire a job. But it’s not like I could go spend a bunch of money every day for two months and not feel it in my bank account. So some days I explore, and some days I don’t. All of this to say, I’ve taken this period as another opportunity to work on constructing a foundation.

I’ve started doing yoga first thing every morning. I spend time each day with no distractions, just my thoughts. On Christmas day I decided to go (mostly) vegan again, so I’ve been taking more time to cook nutritious vegetable filled meals. I’ve been trying to spend time learning every day, either by listening to podcasts or listening to TED talks or watching documentaries or reading. I’ve been a lot more creative lately than usual.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m excited to start working. I’m excited to learn new things and be challenged and have forced interactions with people frequently (sad and humorous, but so true). I’m looking forward to having income again after five months of only negative movement in my bank account. But…I don’t think I would have made any of these other things a priority if I had immediately filled my life with a bunch of…busyness, and I’m glad for all of these in my life. I’m glad I’ve had this strange bonus time to be intentional.

two zero one six

thirty-four things to do before I die:

1. hitchhiking across the United States, and all of the wonders therein.2. seeing Thoth & Lila Angelique in person (after a decade of anticipation).3. attending a mewithoutYou show, at very long last.4. taking the exquisitely scenic train across Canada.5. visiting Australia (new country, new continent).

bonus items:

I. surprise trip to Florida to see some of my very favorite humans. (and The Top!!)II. revisiting the ever charming Astoria (and its seals!) with Jeremiah.
III. roadtripping New England/visiting Vermont: land of Vil, with Sunita.
IV. spontaneous Port Townsend/couchsurfing-with-new-friends trip.
V. taking on the northwestern northwest for Kate’s birthday adventures.
VI. attending the Pemberton music festival (as a VIP!) with Corey and Stazzie.
VII. finally making it to the Bahamas (new country) with Corey and Stazzie.VIII. eventually completing the Mosa Lina road trip via reuniting in long lost Boston.

I, for one, have had a stellar year.

very well then

The A to B of getting to Melbourne from Toronto was objectively probably one of the worst travel experiences I’ve ever had. Unpleasantries arose during every leg of the journey. From sitting in that row of screaming kids (I get it, it happens, it can’t be helped), to New Zealand confiscating my deodorant for no good reason, to being in the middle seat on the twelve hour stretch overseas (and the widow seat passenger taking up half of my legroom in addition to his own). All around it was almost laughable how many frustrating scenarios popped up. But even so, I mostly kept my cool despite the circumstances. Giving in to feelings of frustration never made anyone any happier. Certainly not me.

I had been kind of nervous about dealing with customs in Australia. This isn’t the first time I’ve had to get a visa, but it’s the first time I’ve been on a non-strictly-holiday visa. And the approval process was way too easy. Disconcertingly so. What government approves your visa application the same day you submit it? (Australia’s, apparently.) Anyways, I’ve been shelving for months this slight fear that there was some sort of misunderstanding. And I wondered if I would be like detained and questioned and asked for ten thousand documents (which I had with me, ready to present, damn it). But I was barely at the immigration counter for thirty seconds before they dismissed me and I was magically a resident of Australia. I was acquired from the airport by the lovely Anna, whom Sunita and I were charmed by and enamored with pretty immediately upon meeting a few years ago when she couchsurfed with us in Olympia. She’s one of those people with whom I only spent a smattering of [much too short] days. But I knew with absolute certainty that Anna was someone that I trusted, and respected, and cared about, and would be thrilled to have more present in my life. She’s one of those women whom you hope to be shaped by. And so coming to Australia was exciting in itself, but getting to share a city with Anna was definitely as enticing as anything else this continent has to offer.

At Anna’s house we were greeted by her sister, Nelly, their housemate Liz, the dogs, Bear and Sophie (and the budgie, Caterpillar), and coverage of the American election in progress on tv. To my surprise and amusement, Nelly and Liz were sporting anti-Trump and pro-Hillary shirts, respectively. Liz was sprawled across the floor compiling a state by state chart of the progress. Hillary was currently in the lead. Various members of the household disappeared for a few hours, and I settled into the little sunroom bedroom nook Anna had created for me to reside in until the housing I would inhabit for the next few months was available. Liz returned with beer, and we ordered pizzas to finish the election evening. By now Trump was in the lead, and it was seeming pretty final. Nobody in this household was impressed by or excited about the results, and I was surprised to find over the next several days how invested Australians in general felt about the American election. Young Australians, especially, were just gutted by the outcome. Upon waking the following morning, I knew that as an American, arriving at this particular time, I would have a lot to answer for. This has proven true. Everyone I have conversed with for more than a few sentences is curious about my opinion on the matter. To be honest, I used to be shy about claiming to be a US citizen while in foreign lands. But I’ve found that most people I encounter in this world are willing to take me as an individual, who has certainly been shaped by, but is not defined by my country of origin. I am thankful for this. Particularly now. I don’t want to go on a political rant, but for the purpose of my situation and my story in this current place and time, some political delving is relevant. So I’ll say this: Donald Trump may have been elected as the president of my country of citizenship, but he does not represent me. And he is a poor representation, if that, for many of the people I am proud and glad to know, including, I’m quite sure, some people who voted for his presidency. I mean no disrespect to those who did vote for Trump, my point is I wouldn’t sit down to dinner with the man (that probably isn’t true…love and understanding and all that, but I wouldn’t like to), but I imagine I know quite a few who supported him whose dinner tables I have frequented. All of this to say: I’ve come to consider my traveling (and this, my residence in Australia) to be a subtle form of ambassadorship for my country. A means of connecting and knitting together the world, individual to individual from one country and culture to the next. I don’t fit the stereotype of An American Girl (I’m told this, by surprised foreigners, frequently), and I am far from the poster child of a resident of Donald Trump’s America. And so I hope that my interactions – with anyone who lacks an intimate knowledge the United States – portray a kind, caring, understanding, thoughtful, open minded, not-only-tolerant-but-embracive, passionate, engaged, diligent, calm, peaceful, globally conscious and concerned individual. That is to say, I hope I challenge the stereotype. I hope to show people that while there are people who fit into the American generalizations, there are others who certainly do not. We contradict ourselves; we quite literally contain multitudes. Donald Trump’s election to presidency, and most assuredly his actions throughout his term will promote a lot of conversations for me here. A lot of opportunity for discussing similarities and differences between the US and Australia and elsewhere. Discussing likes and dislikes and failures and potentials and hopes and fears. It’s certainly an interesting time to be living abroad.

Politics aside, my first weeks here have been comprised in part of just chilling and being still and enjoying not moving from one place to the next after three months of such. In part of getting stuff done. With some exploring and socializing thrown in as well. I was surprised by how delighted I was to have new clothing in my wardrobe after three months of wearing the same few outfits. And I’ll say, too, that my luck with finding second hand clothing (that both fits and I like) in Australia has been superior to my American experiences (lookin’ at you Olympia Goodwill). I’ve had some stellar, albeit expensive food. After multiple instances going to cafes with people who’ve said, in response to my not drinking coffee, ‘but will you at least try it?!’ I have, I’ve added coffee into my diet, after long, stubborn years of disinterest. Not that the coffee itself is superior, but I think I like the forms in which Australians drink their coffee better. That, and tea is weirdly more expensive than coffee here. I have been truly surprised by how smoothly all of the official things I’ve needed to accomplish have gone. My first order of business was acquiring a new SIM. I decided on a pay-as-you-go plan and had it delivered in the mail. This, I used the following day to get a library card (which…I’ve used extensively). The mail and library card I used in combination to open a bank account. I filed for my tax number and it arrived soon after. Australia is an easy country to exist in. Anna, Nelly, and Liz were all quite thorough in orienting me to the culture in which I am now immersed. From explaining the trains and buses, to the avocado toast culture, to classic Australian musicians, to their new favourite game of ‘we’ll give you an Australian term, and you have to guess what it means.’ I feel prepared to be a resident without embarrassing myself too much.

hitchmerica: in words

8/1 intuition
8/2 pink
8/3 forbearance
8/4 confirmation
8/5 transversal
8/6 ease
8/7 ken
8/8 acquiescence
8/9 appreciate
8/10 exceed
8/11 imprudent
8/12 squall
8/13 advances
8/14 familiarities
8/15 rest
8/16 sufficient
8/17 rummager
8/18 work
8/19 ordinary
8/20 rumination
8/21 firstovers
8/22 cycle
8/23 perseverance
8/24 happenstance
8/25 heritage
8/26 omission
8/27 review
8/28 suppress
8/29 restless
8/30 return
8/31 settle
9/1 recurrence
9/2 voice
9/3 queasy
9/4 queasier
9/5 sonmi
9/6 fig
9/7 ruin
9/8 milkblind
9/9 picturesque
9/10 care
9/11 between
9/12 re
9/13 elements
9/14 processes
9/15 heights
9/16 unready
9/17 quintessentials
9/18 qualms
9/19 fry
9/20 marvels
9/21 perusal
9/22 stages
9/23 staples
9/24 felicitous
9/25 saturated
9/26 reset
9/27 imprints
9/28 confetti
9/29 echoes
9/30 preemptive
10/1 deluge
10/2 focus
10/3 tantalize
10/4 perezidence
10/5 drive
10/6 frustrate
10/7 takeoff
10/8 omnifecta
10/9 drizzle
10/10 poignancy
10/11 double
10/12 poise
10/13 unbeknownst
10/14 episodes
10/15 walk
10/16 counteract
10/17 decongest
10/18 culmination
10/19 tender
10/20 bests
10/21 sequence
10/22 interruption
10/23 garlic
10/24 conclude
10/25 fancy
10/26 candle
10/27 forecast
10/28 recharge
10/29 in situ
10/30 enough
10/31 storytellers
11/1 accept
11/2 unnecessaries
11/3 northerly
11/4 westerly
11/5 symmetry
11/6 significance
11/7 sensitivity
11/8 didn’t happen (due to time travel)
11/9 bittersweet

blanket fort in motion

I’m being a little preemptive here, with my end-of-trip emotional outburst. But, I suppose the flood comes when it will.

It’s been exactly three months since I started this trip. Since I left my home. Today I’m heading right back to the beginning, ever-so-close-to, but-not-quite my home. Still, Vancouver is home-esque. It’s got the weather and the scenery and the general pnw vibe. It’ll suffice, but probably it’ll just make me sad about missing out on two whole seasons in my preferred part of the world. Even so, I’m excited to spend several days on a train traversing Canadian countryside. So far most people who’ve asked about it wince upon hearing ‘three days, four nights’ in response to their ‘wow, how long does that even take?’

To be fair, I guess I’ve gotten used to long journeys. Not only do they not bother me, I genuinely enjoy long durations of changing landscape. I’m realizing more and more how my introvertedness affects my being. And I am quite simply not someone who likes or needs to have an exceptionally packed or varied schedule. I realize this sounds silly, in contrast to the fact that I’ve been on the road for ninety days in dozens of cities across this country. I get that. But the truth is, I need a lot of down time, even while traveling. I need a lot of just sitting and thinking time. A lot of doing normal everyday things time. A lot of not talking to anyone or distracting myself with anything time. Somehow my particular brand of traveling is both way outside of most people’s comfort zones, and simultaneously too boring for the average (non-introverted) person. I had several conversations with Lu about the concept of there being this idea of what people ‘should’ or ‘shouldn’t’ do in any given situation. When in reality, we get to do what we want. We get to do what works for us. We get to do what makes us feel content. Why is there a ‘should’? I still feel weird about detailing the events of an average day of my traveling, because sometimes it doesn’t seem like ‘enough’. Like I’m supposed to do more, see more, experience more. But the fact is, I do the things that are important to me, and the things that I enjoy. I think that’s enough. I think that’s exactly as it should be.

Suffice to say, a several day train journey of reading, writing, listening to music, people watching, scenery gazing, and whatever other small activities sounds fantastic. It’ll be nice to have an uninterrupted period to process these last three months.

It’s been superb. I’ve seen a smattering of sunsets across the wide skyspan of this country. I have gotten to participate in summer from west to east across the States, and fall from south to north. I’ve cliff jumped into streams, tubed down rivers, swam in lakes and oceans. I’ve hiked mountains and forests and the length of an entire city. I’ve taken trains and buses and planes and cars and semis and bikes and boats and golf carts and subways and streetcars. I’ve spent precious time with my closest friends, weeks with my immediate family and several days with extended family, spent time with friends I haven’t seen in years, with countless strangers, and with strangers who have decidedly become friends, and with a goodly amount of puppy and kitten friends, too. I’ve experienced three items on my list of thirty-four things to do before I die. I’ll experience two more by the time I finish. I turned twenty-seven. I hit three countries.

These diverse moments, this patchwork of life experiences I get to have, are always so meaningful to me. Something about all of these things in view of one another, all of these things contrasting and connecting each other – there’s something so overwhelming about it all. A revelation of viewing this existence with a regard I can only muster after being flooded by it’s amazing scope. There are days where my life doesn’t feel full or satisfying, but these days I can feel only the richness of being a human in this mesmerizing world. These days even the negative things that I experience have their proper balance to them, where I cannot be harmed by my own lack of perspective. What I am left with, after ninety days, is that this life was meant to be lived so intentionally, so depthfully.