Signed Sincerely Me

The Pursuit of Happiness

Sun, 24 Mar 2013 20:52:24 -0400

I guess I should start with saying I’m terrible at blogging. I just checked my page a few moments ago and realized that I haven’t updated it in months; and things have drastically changed since then. Most of the things I said I wanted, I don’t. And most of the things I said I’d do, I won’t. I think I’m bipolar.

For the last year or so, my friends make fun of me when I tell them what my upcoming plans are because they constantly change. “So this is the December plan, Steph? Oook. We’ll wait to see what January brings.” We laugh, but, really, we all know they’re right. When I wrote that post from Perth, it was December, and January brought on a very new plan.

After I left Perth, I went back to my home away from home, Sydney. I saw all of my friends again and planned a last month-long hoorah before I left the country for what I thought was good. And as my departure date approached, I did more of the things I love and realized that I was devastated about leaving. Everything I wanted was in Sydney, so why was I leaving? If you had a chance to live your dream, would you give it up to live the life people expect you to live? I’m not sure if I was lonely in Perth or if it was just the pace of life that had me missing home, but the minute I got to Sydney I thought, “What was I thinking??” I planned my last trips with my best bud Simone to Tasmania, Thailand (again… why not?), and Bali. If I was going to go home, I was going to savor every single second I had left on the road. And the sunshine too. Definitely the sunshine.

Tasmania reminded me quite a bit of New Zealand. The scenery is quite untamed including its beautiful beaches, lakes, and mountains. We rented a car with our Canadian friend Jason who lives out there now, and we camped out ON a beach. It was paradise on earth. You know that moment when you’re camping, the first minute you gain consciousness the next morning when you’re waking up? It’s sweltering in your tent, your mouth tastes like ass, you’re stuck to your sleeping bag, and it smells like shit. Well, imagine being able to get out of the tent, strip down, and have your morning pee and shower in the ocean 20 steps away. Ah! It’s amazing. I refuse to camp any other way from now on (ok, maybe not, but it’s amazing).

After Tasi, I made my way back to Thailand. I was meeting my English friend Steph who was making her way back to England. And to be honest, it doesn’t take much to get me to Thailand. I’d had so much fun last year, I was thinking about it anyway for my second chance at Phi Phi and a tattoo. I spent the whole time I was in Thailand without shoes, a shirt, or a worry (and if I was wearing a shirt, I wasn’t wearing a bra). I was so relaxed, on top of the world, the best version of myself. To feel so unfettered is a luxury in life, and it wasn’t one I took for granted.

Lastly, I hopped over to Bali, which I had heard was a top destination for Aussie travelers. In fact, I think Balinese people are so accustomed to foreigners that they don’t bother getting to know us or treating us with any kind of regard. I felt like they just wanted my dollar. I kind of got that feeling when I was in India and Cambodia too, but here it was different. There was a kind of rudeness to it, I guess. I’m not saying all Balinese people treating us with contempt, but when it came to cab drivers or store clerks I felt hustled. I managed to have an amazing time because I was with Simone (the Italian stallion I met in Sydney). He is one of the many amazing friends I have made along my way, and our time spent traveling together added an element to our friendship. Although he and I are polar opposites in many ways, we somehow manage to get along, enjoy each other’s company, and love each other. We stayed in hotels with pools and restaurants to take advantage of the abroad lifestyle our Aussie dollar could provide us ($100 = 1 MILLION rupiahs), we rented a scooter on one of the islands and cruised along the narrow, roads and rickety bridges with no shirts on, and we jumped off a 42-foot cliff into the raging, warm ocean. And the sunsets. We watched the sunset every night, whether it was on the beach or at a restaurant. We took the time every day to watch another day end, reminding us that our time was limited and worth savoring.

After a month on the road, it was time to go back to Oz, see my friends one more time, and pack my bags. Every day I was in Australia, I lived. I saw the wonderful people that I am blessed to call friends, did things I’d always put off doing like going to the zoo, went out till the sun came up, and barely slept. You can sleep when you’re dead! There were many moments when I considered missing that flight. Our last day in Bali, Simone proposed we miss our flight, buy a restaurant by the beach, and start a new life. Lost opportunity number one. My last week in Sydney, my best gal pal Nicole offered to quit her teaching job, so I could take it and stay. You can’t buy friendship like that. And on my last night, my friends offered to get me so drunk I’d miss my 8 a.m. shuttle to the airport. Despite the best of attempts, I made that flight. But not without a February plan brewing…

So where am I now? I’m in Boston. I got a teaching job and an apartment within a week of my return. When I have my mind made up, I’m pretty good at getting shit done. I’m on a mission. I’m taking time to see my family and friends who have long awaited my return, and I’m trying to keep my feet planted in the present. To me, it feels like no time has gone by, but to them I’ve been gone for two years. And two years to normal people is a long time. I’m not planning on sticking around very long. I’ve already decided – I decided before I got on that plane – that I’m going back to Sydney. I don’t know how yet logistically. I’m working on that. But every day I wake up, I have my hazelnut coffee, I go to work, and I know that I’m leaving. Little by little, I’m sorting it out, to live my dream. I’m looking at student visas because it’s the best I can do from here: sign up for a program that could somehow help my teaching career and teach part-time (the legal limit on the visa is 20 hours a week). My March plan is that I’ll be on a plane by September, before I have to bear, endure, suffer through another Boston winter. Of course, this is the March plan, so who knows what April will bring? But if you could live your life exactly as you wanted to, wouldn’t you?

“she moves so fast that I can’t keep up” from...

Tue, 05 Mar 2013 13:36:39 -0500

“she moves so fast that I can’t keep up” from the land of Oz, Bag Raiders

Oh, the Places You’ll Go

Wed, 14 Nov 2012 08:58:05 -0500

Oh, the Places You’ll Go

Perth: How Do You Say **** in English?

Wed, 14 Nov 2012 08:57:27 -0500

I’ve been living in Perth (in Western Australia) since mid-August. I came here to get away from my not-so-healthy lifestyle in Sydney. Sydney was amazing, wild, and memorable. After three months of the best of times with the best of people, I felt quite lost. Not because of the people I was with, but because my life had been in ultra-drive since March 2011, and here I was stuck in neutral in Kings Cross. I quit my everyday, nothing-special job one week after I had my revelation that it was time to move on. I booked a one-way ticket to booming, mining-centric Perth, home to my sister from another mister and mother, Jill. I don’t coin the term “sister” lightly because I have one, and she’s god’s gift to my life, if I believe in god. But a select few of the girlfriends I’ve met in this lifetime come a close second to Delphine; Jill is one of those girls. Seeing as we haven’t lived on the same continent since 2007, it was an absolute must that I spend a stint of my Aussie experience living at her doorstep. So on August 14th I knocked on her and Ronan’s door and crashed on their sofa bed until I found a job.

At first, I thought I might get a farming job for 88 days to get a visa extension. But then I thought Perth might also be a good place to get some decent teaching experience. (With the mining industry booming out in WA, I thought there might be quite a few foreigners in the area trying to learn English before getting a piece of that Aussie dollar.) I figured I’d try for both and go from there, knowing full well that I was leaning towards teaching which is what I really wanted to do as opposed to sweating my ass off in a field picking fruit and living in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of nowhere (repetition intentional as, if you know anything about Australia, you know that the outback is bare as ****, like no one and nothing around for thousands of miles). Amazingly enough I found a substitute teaching gig at Kaplan in Perth - a five-minute walk from Jill’s place - my second week in town, and then another gig at another school the following week. On my fourth week in Perth, Kaplan offered me a contract to teach for them until the end of November. Everything came together so smoothly it was unreal. After staying with Jill and Ronan for two weeks, their extremely generous and equally awesome friends Jen and Mike offered me their spare room for three weeks for the pure cost of “paying it forward.” That’s the thing with living in Oz as an expat: we’re all in the same boat, we’ve all been there, and we’re all equally willing to one day return the favor. They didn’t have to, but someone had once helped them, and they were compelled to do me a solid for the sake of karma and the balance of the universe. Not only that, but I am now proud and stoked to call them friends of mine. As it should be… in the universe of balances and backpacking.

I fell in love with their town, Subiaco, only a 20 or so minute walk to my new job - and Jill’s apartment - and decided to find an apartment in that area. I found a sublet with a 25-year-old Tasmanian who goes by the name “Jono” (super Aussie). It’s in a gorgeous complex with a pool. Needless to say, after a few weeks of calm and comfort, I rediscovered an affection for a stable and predictable life, and I started missing home. Dun dun duuun.

But before I get to that let me tell you a little bit about a day in the life here in WA. I can’t express how grateful I am to James (see my NZ post) for getting me into teaching. I love it so much! These days I teach an afternoon class every day of the week and one at night two to three times a week. I have students that range between the ages of 15 and 50-something from Korea, Brazil, Colombia, Japan, Czech Republic, China, and many more. Their English levels range from zero to proficient depending on which class I’m teaching (elementary to intermediate). Our common point: we’re all expats. I travel distances via my students’ experiences, I learn about their cultures, and I make wacky jokes and presentations to make it fun for all of us (at least I think so). Every day is a new adventure, and I’m so glad for the opportunity. So yeah… life is awesome!

To give you an idea of what makes my job so fun, allow me to illustrate with some of my top moments:
- when teaching the pronunciation of “horror,” after asking the class to repeat after me, I heard a loud echo of “whore.” After a brief but unsuccessfully restrained giggle, I had to take it back a notch, reteach the pronunciation, and explain why their first attempt wasn’t going to slide. I also mentioned an alternative to “horror”: “scary.” Maybe that’ll work better.
- after teaching the word “funny,” one of my students asked if it was the same as “fanny” as she spelled it out for me in her notebook. The poor girl was horrified to discover that she’d been Facebook chatting and using the word with an Aussie, to whom a fanny is a vagina.
- teaching TLC (tender loving care), singing “Waterfalls” by TLC only to find out none of my students knew the band. They called me old. Even the ones that were older than me.
- my discovery that I am a terrible whiteboard artist… Upon trying to draw an electric guitar with spiky ends, a student interrupted me saying “Ooooh. Teacher….” I looked at my drawing and realized that I had drawn an electric penis. Quick, quick! Where’s the eraser?
This may not be funny to you, but this cracks me up and warms my heart. I’m a grammar nerd, let’s face it. It’s one of the many reasons why this is a perfect job for me.

Anyway, while loving my job and taming my lifestyle to put my best forward every day in the classroom, I realized that I miss working towards a stable future, and I know that I don’t want that in Australia. I miss my family and friends, and I want to be closer. So I’ve made up my mind. I’m coming home. For good. I think I got the travel bug out of my system, and if not I know I can get my favorite things about travel out of teaching ESL (English as a Second Language). So you see, the adventure continues. Still following my dream, but to a place closer to home.

My plan as of now is to stay in Perth until my contract runs out and then to spend the holidays in Sydney to reunite with my friends out there. Come January I’ll do a little more bouncing around. Since I’m all the way over here, I might as well get the most out of it. And to avoid spending all of my hard-earned money, I’ll head back to the US of A in February (NY to visit, Boston to live) to get the next chapter of my life started. And maybe, who knows, I’ll put it all in a book some day. Until then, thanks for reading. I’ll see you on the other side. x

Let’s go to the beach beach

Wed, 14 Nov 2012 01:15:39 -0500

Let’s go to the beach beach

Sydney: Hey, I Just Met You...

Wed, 14 Nov 2012 01:14:22 -0500

My initial “plan” - and I use the term lightly because there is no such thing really when you’re backpacking around the world - was to move to Melbourne because I prefer it to Sydney. And that’s kind of how it is over here; you either prefer the one or the other (kind of like Boston and New York, if you ask me). Melbourne feels artsy-hipster and is spotted with European-esque architecture and narrow back alleys leading to hidden gems. Sydney is metropolitan and lacks charm, besides the Opera House and Darling Harbour.

I ended up moving to Sydney though. In terms of the “plan,” it made more sense: Sydney had more opportunities for my new career in teaching English as a Second Language, and I already had friends living out there, so I thought it would be a smoother transition.

Turns out arriving there in May was bad timing and the slow season for schools, so after two weeks of walking the city CV in hand and blistering the bottoms of my feet, literally, I settled for a job in a call center for Carnival Cruise Lines, its P&O branch to be precise. It was a steady, full-time job that paid $21 an hour, which was more than I was earning in America at a job I’d had for four years. It wasn’t very exciting, but it was pretty easy when people weren’t yelling at me for things I had no control over, which happened at least twice a day.

By night, I was living full-time in a hostel in the raunchy, fiery red-light district Kings Cross and working as co-entertainment manager with my newfound bud Simone, the Italian stallion, for the cost of rent. What does an entertainment manager do, you ask? Well, you organize the nightly activities in the hostel which mainly entails convincing patrons to stop drinking in the hostel common room after 10 p.m. and to join you at a bar for at least one free drink, so they don’t annoy and/or wake up the other guests. They get one free drink, I get at least five. It was quite the balancing act working a boring desk job during the day and coming home to be the “face of the hostel,” hosting the daily welcome meetings and peer pressuring people into going out when what I really wanted to do was put my pajamas on and crash. To be fair, there were definitely nights when my job at the hostel was nothing like a job but more like a typical night out with friends, only I didn’t have to pay for any drinks which was sweeeeeet. I made some amazing friends, and I wouldn’t take it back for the world. I didn’t want to have the kind of life where I worked all day and slept all night. I’m in AUSTRALIA, and you only live once. I wanted to party, have fun, and I got to do it with my favorite people on this side of the world. I saved a lot of money (or should I say “heaps”?) on rent, and I spent every day living my life to the fullest and forging memories. As you can imagine though, eventually the wild lifestyle took its toll, and I started getting tired. I was tired of working a mindless job and tired of doing the same things every night, every week. I didn’t travel halfway across the world to have a routine that I was only kind of, sometimes enjoying. And there was still Jill to go see on the other side of Australia. So one day I decided - and it was really as abrupt as I’ve written it - I was moving to Perth to be closer to Jill and to try to find a teaching job over there, and short of that a farming job to extend my visa for another year. Another year??? That was the plan anyway, but, like I said, those don’t exist out here. At least they didn’t until now…

Fat Freddy’s Drop from NZ

Thu, 26 Apr 2012 07:53:27 -0400

Fat Freddy’s Drop from NZ

No Shirt, No Shoes, No Problem: Auckland, NZ

Thu, 26 Apr 2012 07:51:41 -0400

Hey there, friends!

I’m sorry I’ve left you hangin’ for all this time. I dove back into the life of school and have just resurfaced. Funny how as an adult you can easily invest 100% of yourself in school without a second thought or any regret for the late night bingers you’ll miss out on. Maybe it’s because you’re there because you want to be and hopefully you’re studying something you enjoy. At least, that was the case for me.

Ladies and gents, you are looking at a Trinity-certified TESOL (Teaching English as a Second Language) teacher. I spent five weeks in an intensive program and got my first taste of teaching. I must say I was pleasantly surprised at how naturally teaching came to me and how much I enjoy it. I say “so far” because I have commitment issues these days and am hard to please when it comes to the whole career thing. One thing I learned last year is “life is like a box of chocolates…” so don’t resist it.

I’m one of those people who has never known what I want to be when I grow up. I used to torture myself about it and wrack my brain about what my calling could possibly be. Now though, I’m okay with not knowing what is it I am meant to do, and I’m also okay with the idea that maybe I won’t have just one career; maybe I’ll have lots of them. I’m driven and hard-working at everything I do (no, this is not a cover letter), so why not do everything? My trip abroad opened so many possibilities for me that it’s really hard to choose just one thing. Why must I only have one when I can have them all? Clearly, my trip abroad has also warped my self-esteem. Regardless… I am Steph. Hear me roar!

New Zealand has been a dream and a home away from home. I lived on Elspeth and James’s couch for 2 months, and they quickly made me feel at home, as well as their warm, wacky friends. I didn’t do much trekking or exploring while I was here (one, I’d done it last time I was in NZ, and, two, I was knee deep in books and schoolwork), but I still managed to have some lovely times with the Auckland crew, and I am so grateful for their welcoming embrace. I will sincerely miss them (see you at Elp’s and James’s wedding next year!).

As much as I love my Auckland friends - old and new (Facebook official means REAL) - NZ is a place I’d have trouble living in full time. Kiwis (that’s New Zealanders for the newbies) have crazy accents, drive on the wrong side of the road, walk around barefoot EVERYWHERE (restaurants, supermarkets, the streets), and have an all around islander vibe which is great, but also incomprehensible for a native New Yorker like me. Yes, New York City terrifies me now, yes I’ve developed a phobia of responsibility and being rushed, but I still can’t let go of my ingrained anxiety and fear of everything that makes me an American. What do you mean I can grill in this public park? What do you mean I am free to roam and take my dog wherever I want? And don’t get me started on the cost of living. Granted the exchange rate is $1 NZ = $0.75 US, but what is this about $14 NZ breakfasts and $2 NZ candy bars. Don’t get me wrong. NZ has a lot to offer: mountains, lakes, beauty, nature, views that’ll burn your eyeballs, but it gets small, and a city girl like me just isn’t cut for it. I need to be able to go shopping at 8 p.m. if the desire to buy lavish, unnecessary things tickled me, and cities need to take WEEKS to get around by foot (NZ towns are so cute and quaint, but, really, with my American ADD, I need more. I need chaos. I need noise). Now that I’ve written it all down I hate myself a little bit. There is absolute nothing wrong with NZ. There is something wrong with me. So I’m moving on.

I head out to Sydney on Monday where I hope to get a job teaching English (to the foreigners, not the Aussies) and eventually find an apartment or room to rent out. I’ll be staying in a hostel until further notice. As James likes to say as he overtly tries to convince me to stay in Auckland, I’m off to the land of ALL murderous animal species: spiders, sharks, crocodiles, you name it. I will sleep with one eye open, and I will love every minute of it. Why? So I can tell you everything that’s wrong with it when I decide it’s time to move on.

Seriously though. I love it every day.

Yours self-righteously,

“I fly with the stars in the skies/ I am no longer...

Sat, 21 Jan 2012 15:29:37 -0500

“I fly with the stars in the skies/ I am no longer tryin’ to survive/ I believe that life is a prize/ But to live doesn’t mean you’re alive”

Nobody Puts Baby in the Corner

Sat, 21 Jan 2012 15:27:27 -0500

Hello, hello. Writing to y’all from the tropical city of… Mamaroneck, New York. Actually, it’s snowing out right now, and I can sincerely affirm that, no, I didn’t miss the winter. Some people enjoy the snow and like to retreat to the couch, by the fireplace, with a good book and hot cocoa in hand. I’m not one of those people. I don’t really see anything good about cold weather, wet clothes, and white streets. What I like is white sand, hot rays of sunshine, and cold, wild waves. To each his own.

So what am I up to these days? What is it like to be back, you ask?

I’ve been Stateside now for a month. I’ve seen my much-missed family and friends, and I’ve shared my tales and pictures with those curious - and patient - enough to ask. The novelty of my return has faded, and now it’s back to the closest thing to “normal” I can get to. My friends all work 9 to 5, Monday through Friday jobs, and they all live all over the place, some in Manhattan, some in Boston, and others a Greyhound trek or flight away. So what do I do now? As any other useful citizen would, I look for a job to make some money to live my dream. Thing is though, one of the reasons I’m going back to Australia is that there aren’t any jobs here and that minimum wage is something around $8 an hour. So I deal with the ups and downs of submitting resumes, going to interviews, and making peanuts, only to sit on the fact that I’m leaving again in a month’s time. Then again, I can’t very well sit on my hands for that long either, wasting away, watching the walls grow, while the rest of the world goes round.

I had my fair share of battles upon my return, convincing nay-sayers and conventionalists why moving to the other side of the world isn’t such a nutty decision after all. I’m 27, and yet I find myself still justifying my decisions and having to prove something to my friends and family. I’m not crazy, I swear. And to me, this all makes sense, so hopefully one day it will to you too. Truth is I’m living outside of the box, and anyone inside will see my plan as escapism. I wasn’t always unconventional, but that’s what got me on that around-the-world plane ticket in the first place: my breaking point. Like I said, I’m 27, and I’ve decided to live my life the way I want to, not the way I should based on what other people expect, which to some, in itself, is nutty. I’m taking this one day at a time, and I’m going to make the best of it because, really, you only get one chance at life.

Video

Tue, 17 Jan 2012 17:37:10 -0500

the Lash Team anthem

Tue, 17 Jan 2012 17:36:34 -0500

the Lash Team anthem

New Zealand: Go Big or Go Home

Tue, 10 Jan 2012 17:09:29 -0500

Last but definitely not least.

When I arrived in New Zealand, I knew I only had a month and a half to make the best of what was left, and I wasn’t about to hold back… on anything.

My first stop was Auckland, where I was reunited with an old college buddy, James. James and I have an interesting story: we met in Spain on spring break sophomore year in college and saw each other about three or four times after that. Four years went by with a Facebook poke/post/whatever every once in a blue moon, and then I wrote to him in 2010 to tell him I was coming to NZ where he had moved two years earlier. It was simple: he said, “I don’t know what I’m doing tomorrow, but if I’m still here in 2011 awesome!!” Lucky for me, he was still around by the time my turtle and I made it to Auckland, and he picked me up from the airport. From that moment forward, it was sealed; we were still great friends, and we were going to have a great time. I slept on his and his now fiancee’s couch (shout-out to future Mrs. Elspeth Frascatore, doctor by day, kickass artist, pipe-smoker, pyjama-rocker by night), snuggled up with their kitties Nubs and Tubs.

[Funny sidenote about the kitties: one night, when the house was still and the streets of Auckland were resting, I heard a noise. It started on the porch. There was a bird chirp - a cry for help - and then a pounce. A primal struggle I was in no way going to interrupt. Tubs (or was it Nubs?) escorted its prey back into the house by the kitty door, and the murder proceeded in the kitchen. My greatest fear was that I’d have a dead bird laying on my pillow in the morning, the proud kitty’s trophy. When we woke up the next morning, there was a dead bird in the bathroom and feathers scattered throughout the kitchen. Birdie put up a valiant fight.]

My first weekend in town, James and I drove to Taupo for one of his frisbee tournaments. I was told there would be a Kiwiana-themed party, and we would have to dress up. He had me at “beer.” His frisbee buds are hoots of fun and mostly all fellow expats. Frisbee is their way to “work out,” but also to have fun and cut loose. I watched the games, cheering (and napping) from the sidelines. His friends are awesome and took me under their wings, even after James was out of town (much lovin’s to Emma, Adam, Davey Jones, James, Elliott, Jess, and the rest of the Taupo Hat crew).

After a week in the comfort of a friend’s company, I left James’s side to board the Magic bus, a backpacker bus that takes travelers all around the north and south islands of NZ. Much like the Baz Bus in South Africa, the bus picks you up and drops you off at participating hostels, and arranges daily activities if you so choose. My most memorable acquaintances aboard the NZ bus were the Lashtastic Six, which I’ll introduce in a sec.

After two weeks traveling around the north island (my favorite city being the windy capital of Wellington and my most memorable activity being the Tongariro Crossing on Mount Doom - a 19.5km hike across mountains, snow, crevasses, and a rainforest), I made my way back to Auckland to pick up my sister from the international terminal in Auckland’s airport. Because our silly motherland only offers 2 weeks vacation to even the hardest of workers, Delphine was only able to stay a week, but we made sure to soak up every second of our time together. We visited the city, sipped on local wines on the nearby island of Waiheke, and then made our way north to Peihia, in the Bay of Islands. We were blessed with blue skies and warm weather, perfect for beach-bumming, parasailing, and swimming with the dolphins (although I don’t recommend the latter to the weak-hearted. Think tuna caught in a net, drowned in freezing cold water). We treated ourselves to a beachside motel room, a week of adventure, and moments of pure enjoyment.

After my sister left the NZ summer behind, I made my way to the south island, where some of the coolest people were waiting for me to join their crew. Aboard the Magic bus, I met Nikki, Rob, Chris W, Becky, Will, and Chris L aka the Lash Crew (MAD SHOUT TO MY LASH KIDS!!!). We explored the icy crevasses of the Franz Josef Glacier, rented a minivan and drove to Milford Sound where we saw seals, dolphins, and views that would put Lord of the Rings to shame, and partied our booties off in Queenstown three nights in a row, shutting down the bars and making sure bouncers and bartenders alike knew who we were. Every moment spent in their presence was a blast, and they made sure I ended my trip with a BOOM BOOM BANG BANG.

My first day in Queenstown, an adrenaline bug bit me, and I signed up to do NZ’s highest bungy jump, the Nevis, at 134 meters. If you knew me before November, you’d know I’d never in a million years do such a thing, but yet here I am, having done it and writing to you about it. It was the scariest, bravest, and coolest thing I’ve ever done. And I’d do it again. As they say at Nevis, go big or go home… and I wasn’t ready to go home. My gal pal Nikki came along as my spectator, and little did she know I’d have her standing (shaking) right by me on the platform of a swaying structure hanging off a cable. She was quite the trooper for a girl terrified of heights, and the sheer terror in her eyes made me forget about my jitters; I was too busy trying to make her feel better to think about what I was about to do. I was pumped up on adrenaline, and the loud hip hop music had me dancing in place and excited. I may have been in some kind of unconscious coma, but I was cool as ice until that leap… The feeling I had the minute I realized I was falling, weightless, in the air is a different story.

My adventures behind me, I headed back to Auckland with my Lash crew minus two and started making plans for 2012. I applied to Edenz College to take the TESOL course, so I can teach English to foreigners abroad. After that, I’ll be moving to Australia for a year to find work and keep moving. I feel like I’ve got it figured out (kind of), but what’s most important is that I’m happy about my decision and really excited. So you see, it’s not the end; it’s just the beginning.

This could be paradise.

Wed, 30 Nov 2011 22:10:16 -0500

This could be paradise.

Video

Thu, 03 Nov 2011 05:05:09 -0400

Australia: If You Can't Beat Them, Join Them

Thu, 03 Nov 2011 05:04:45 -0400

I’ve only been out of Oz two days, but I miss it already. Mostly I miss the hodgepodge of funky travelers I met there.

I started my month-and-a-half stint in Oz in Sydney. I was there a week, at the bars every night, and having the time of my life every minute. Nowadays, it’s hard to meet a foreigner in Australia NOT traveling for a year and looking for a job - whether it be picking fruit, waitressing at a stripclub, or cleaning toilets in a hostel. And to tell you the truth, I envy them. My year is quickly coming to a close, and I’m looking for any excuse/plan to keep it going. These Oz dwellers seem to have the best of both worlds: a year to meet new people, enjoy new adventures, party like they’re on vacation from reality (which they are), AND work some sort of job they might not want in their motherland and yet love abroad since it feels unreal and still manages to pay the bar tabs.

I must admit that Aussies know how to party, although after 1 am the bar turns into a frightening nightmare of sloppy women and starving men. There is always something happening in Sydney, and I made sure to check my “Cheap Guide” every night to avoid paying the average $10 for a beer. After a week of non-stop partying with a group of English folk and my Canadian pool partner Matt, it was high time I took a break and headed “home” to the other side of Oz, in Jillie’s sweet embrace.

Ever since I met Jill at 2 am in the Warren Towers bathroom, brushing our teeth, we’ve been linked at the hip, so you can understand my heartache when she fell in love with Irishman Ronan and moved to Dublin. Now the economy is shite, there are no jobs, and they moved Perth. It was so nice to go to a piece of home and have an Irish good time on the other side of the world. We went camping in Margaret River, where we stalked kangaroos hopping about our site after dark - probably not the wisest of decisions - and sipped on Oz’s finest wines. During Jill’s work week (I don’t have such a thing), we’d meet up for lunch, catch up, and enjoy the comfort of our years of history. She’s my sister from another mister. Yes, it’s true she tried to convince me to move to Oz, and, yes, it’s true, I am easily convinced to try anything at least once. Oz 2012?! After two weeks in the best of company, including Jill and Ronan’s Irish expat clan, I was sad to go but eager to catch a glimpse of Australia’s infamous Great Barrier Reef.

I flew out to Cairns and moved into my dorm room at 5 am in a room full of booze-seeping blokes, landmines of clothing, and a howling snorchestra. Thankfully by morning, these monsters were replaced by Mark and Kasper, a couple of Danish guys on a long holiday. We had a great time sharing a glass of goon or two, free meals at The Woolshed, and the daily mayhem at Gilligan’s. I took a tour of nearby waterfalls on Captain Matty’s Barefoot Tour, where I met Canadian Raylyn who could hold her own as well as I could in the bar. And on one of the only sunny days I got in Cairns, I took a daytrip to the Great Barrier Reef, where I was left free to roam the underwater realm at my ease and to my immense satisfaction. There is nothing I love more than breathing underwater (and any girl who used to pretend to be a mermaid in the pool will empathize).

The place I’ll miss the most in Oz was my last stop, Melbourne. When meeting Australians, you’ll notice a clear rivalry between Sydney and Melbourne. Sydney is crowded and very cosmopolitan, and Melbourne is a little more spread out geographically and has quaint cafes and more of a hipster vibe, as far as I can tell. It’s like the difference between Sex and the City and How I Met Your Mother. My hostel had a bar that I frequented daily, beer being the international ice breaker, as well as pool. Shout out to my boys Graham, Dominic, Rich, and Timmy. These fellows took great care of me, making sure to drag me to the bars until 5 am, luring me into a happy hour at 4 pm, and schooling me on the pool table. If I could take them with me, I would. Again, I’ve learned that it’s not really the place that matters but the people you meet. When you feel genuine excitement about seeing your crew, you know you’ve got it made.

Moving to Oz next year is a tempting idea. It’s hard to decide what it is I should do when I return, my end date creeping up behind me. I know that I’ve never been as happy as I’ve been this year, on the road, meeting the funnest and most diverse of people from across the world, sharing tales, nights, dancefloors, and dorm rooms. I find it hard to believe that there isn’t a way I can make this feeling last forever, that I can’t make my life out of this. It could all just be a dream, but if it is I don’t want to wake up.

Photo

Sun, 25 Sep 2011 03:11:22 -0400

South Africa <3 “BBM” by Liquideep

Sun, 25 Sep 2011 02:25:07 -0400

South Africa <3 “BBM” by Liquideep

South Africa: The World's Best Kept Secret

Sun, 25 Sep 2011 02:14:26 -0400

My original plan was to fly in and out of Cape Town, my parents pleading that I avoid Johannesburg at all costs. But destiny - and EgyptAir - had a different plan for me. After traveling for 27 hours, I arrived in Joburg at 11 a.m., missing my connection to Cape Town. I knew I wanted to visit the coast of South Africa via Baz Bus, and heading from Joburg to Cape Town made more sense with only 10 days to see it all (in hindsight, I would have spent three to four weeks in South Africa). After claiming my luggage, which miraculously followed me the whole way, my first mission was to book a safe place to stay in Joburg while I mapped out the days and trips ahead. I could have panicked. I could have booked another flight to Cape Town. But ultimately I was glad for the delay, for while I waited in the Cairo airport, seeing the hours tick by, I prepared myself for this and saw the brighter side of the hiccup.

Baz Bus is one of the many amazing things about South Africa. It’s a backpacker bus that connects Joburg to Cape Town making numerous stops along the way to passenger-picked hostels and lodges. It’s door-to-door service along the Garden Route, and it runs daily. It’s the best way to travel through South Africa and to meet fellow backpackers.

After booking my Joburg hostel through the Baz Bus Web site, I waited for the shuttle. When Tony the driver showed up, we loaded the car and put the keys in the ignition. Nothing. Turns out Tony was used to this, and he had to ask a couple of fellows loitering around to help him push the van. As I watched the scene unravel, I couldn’t help but giggle and think, “Welcome to South Africa!”

The Africa Centre Airport Lodge was a welcome taste of luxury, with a pool, an empty 8-bed dorm, and organized “tours.” The entire staff knew my name and even went as far as calling me Stephie. The bartender gave me his Lonely Planet guidebook, and another employee suggested a bunch of hostels on the Baz Bus route that he had visited.

All in all, I found South Africans to be extremely friendly and helpful. They all want to know where you’re from, what you do, and what you think of South Africa being a very proud nation. Most think that the country offers everything anyone could ever want and have no great desire to venture any farther - and they may be right. You can hike, surf, sail, kayak, safari, swim, dive, zipline, BBQ, drink, live, laugh, love in South Africa. As far as safety goes, I never had any problems. South Africans were eager to help and keep me safe. I only felt uneasy when locals would tell me to be extremely cautious and to avoid going out on my way, like the Big Bad Wolf was lurking around the corner. In Durban, when I strayed from my planned route, I asked police officers for directions, and they went as far as giving me a ride in the paddy wagon to get me to where I was going.

The scenery on the route from Joburg to Cape Town was amazingly breathtaking. Mountains, oceans, fields, wildlife, green, sunshine, pink, blue. I’m going back as soon as I can because I want to see and do it all, with more money and more time.

On the Baz Bus I befriended a couple of German girls (whatup, Gesa and Vanessa!!), and we traveled together from Durban to Coffee Bay, Port Elizabeth, Knysna, and finally Cape Town. The Garden Route is a surfer’s paradise, but mind the sharks! Whether you want to hike Table Mountain (which I so proudly accomplished at 1000 meters above sea level), ride a wave, pet a lion, or sunbathe, South Africa is for you, so get in on it!

Berlin: Rock n' Wall

Thu, 01 Sep 2011 06:44:45 -0400

I had a feeling about Berlin. I met an Ozzy in Beijing that told me of all the places he’d been (and he’d been everywhere), Berlin was his favorite city in the WORLD. Now that’s saying a lot. I had no idea what to expect; I only knew that I’d need more than just a weekend’s time to find out.

When I got to Plus Berlin Hostel, my home away from home for the week, I was first greeted with the wide smiles and invitations of the guys at the reception. After checking in, I entered my six-bed dormroom which had TWO ensuite bathrooms, high ceilings, and spotless floors. On my bottom bunk, Rob from Brighton, England was waiting for me, for as destiny would have it, we were meant to share a bunk, a room, and an adventure (shout-out to my homeboy Rob!! Berlin 2012 for the sequel?). Two Brightoners from two different sides of the pond, we took Berlin by storm, starting at the hostel bar to meet the rest of our not-yet-encountered posse.

At the bar, we ordered a round of manly-sized Berliner pints from one of Europe’s best bartenders, Filip, boding from the fair city of Prague. While sitting at the bar, we exchanged words and were then approached by more Plus employees, inviting, friendly, and eager to show Berlin virgins the local side of their city (although none of them are native Berliners, but no matter). As a solo traveler, you never decline an invitation because you never know what kind of adventure you can get yourself into. What started at the bar progressed into a nightly ritual of laughing and trading travel stories over a few, and ending up amid the rest of the city in a park, bar, or club. One of the unique and extremely positive things about Plus Hostel is that its entire staff is from somewhere else, all of them being in fact like their guests: travelers, social butterflies, and ready for anything. (A warm Gutten Tag to David, Nino, Filip, MORGAN, Lars, Curgy, and the rest of the fun-filled clan at Plus.) They took Rob and me under their wings, and we shared evenings like we’d known each other for ages. Maybe they’re used to entertaining people like us week in and week out, but they made us feel at home, and Rob and I fell in love… with Berlin.

But the nightlife is not all there is to Berlin. Its history is fascinating and still apparent on the remnants of its Wall. While trotting along its sidewalks, it’s impossible not to try to imagine what it was like in the 40s and then in the 60s. What resulted from such a perturbed past is present-day Berlin’s fashion, or lack thereof. I’ve never seen as many amazingly hideous hairstyles as I did in Berlin. Everyone is rebelling against fashion, trends, and the norm. Ripped tights (on purpose), abundantly pierced faces, and shaved, dyed, sculpted, or gelled hairdos. The theme here is: you do you, and I don’t give a f**k.

One of my favorite places in Berlin is the Jewish Museum, designed by famous architect Daniel Libeskind. It’s a museum created to not only tell the story of Holocaust victims but to incite strong emotions and connections in its visitors. I can’t really describe the experience; I can only say that it was an experience and not just a visit. Go to its Holocaust Tower, stand there for a while, and listen. You can’t hear much, but you can feel it.

In Berlin, you’ll time-travel.