It always made sense to me that Sayulita's streets are like a string of veins, each veering in one direction or the other. They all end at the ocean - there to serve the city's heart. 

Wandering Around: New York City

First subway station on the Upper West Side

The smells wafting from each neighborhood’s restaurants erupt before they can float above the skyscrapers… linguini mixing with lamb chops mixing with won tons until it all becomes too much.

Lane lines are rendered useless as cabs dart in every direction to drive cosmopolitans to cocktail hour. Each building is larger and more elaborate than the next, as if they’re mirroring the pedestrians below and competing for popularity.

I dare you to take one ride on the subway and not see every race represented, every age, every gender, it's all there. I dare you to look out your window at 4 a.m. and not see a crowd still wandering the sidewalks, moving in slow motion under the lights of the Lower East Side.

Neighborhoods demand allegiances, and each one has its own calling card. 

Heels stomp, horns honk, peddlers sell, cameras flash and the homeless jiggle their nearly empty cans.

New York City is everything, all at once. I got lost and became anonymous in a place that moves faster than I’m capable of. And that’s when I realized it.

Maybe people come to New York City to be alone.

Airports

There’s just something about the airport. Maybe it’s that sweet mix of relief and heartbreak that means I'm going home again, or the fear and excitement of finding myself en route to somewhere new.

There's that few-hour span where I'm in limbo, leaving the place I came from in exchange for where I'm going. It's like the summer before high school and college, the commercial break before the next segment of my life. 

After being assaulted by the x-ray machine, barefoot and vulnerable as my passport is scrutinized and my water bottle is emptied, I'm free to join the airtight space on the other side of the tunnel. In the mix of complete safety among thousands of bustling travelers, there's an overwhelming feeling of anonymity.

At the airport I could be anywhere in the world; each is its own unincorporated space. They’re hubs placed on the outskirts of town, housing hoards of people from every dot on the map. Itineraries have brought so many of us together, and there's beauty in knowing we won’t stay in the same place for long.

Businessmen in suits carry briefcases and smart phones. They have traveling down to a science. Children with tiny suitcases adorned with Nemo and Dora are moved to the front of the line.

Backpackers with dirty faces and unwashed hair swap stories before nestling in a makeshift bed otherwise known as the floor. Flight attendants with their starched uniforms walk in a group, full of purpose while their silk scarves float through the stale air.

Money emits from the bottom floor machines as currency from every culture is converted, conformed to the new place it will economically support.

As we came together, we’ll leave together, forgetting we were ever in the same place.

Drifting

I learned to sail in Australia. The more I relive those three days on the SV Whitehaven, the more I reminisce a conversation I had with the deckhand.

I boarded a plane for a continent 14,000 kilometers away to escape. I escaped the inevitability of being yet another college graduate without a clue of what to do next.

But every time I hear wind surge through hanging sheets or the creak of old wood, I am brought back to the day I laid under the Queensland sun. Cigar smoke drifting inches above my freckled skin, I was rambling to the deckhand about life and wondering whether I was doing it right when I can't even remember to brush my hair or email home. He smiled a crooked smile and told me something I'll never forget.

He said, "The only way to lose your way is to follow something other than your own truth."

Figuring out your truth may seem a distant notion when many of us perform repetitive jobs in order to pay rent and buy pre-packaged meals under the fluorescent glow of a supermarket.

Maybe my life doesn't look like other people's, who seem to have it figured out. I'm more on the way than already there. Maybe the only requirement is to keep heading toward the general coordinates and let the wind take care of the rest. 

Home Again

I am once again in The States. After experiencing reverse culture shock and the pang of a 17-hour time difference, I am now a well-rested and faithful blog poster. Let me first fill you in on what I have been doing for the last three months.

Upon graduation, I didn’t have the drive to immediately begin a career, so I escaped the pressure and dawned the 23-hour (in total) flight to Sydney, Australia. With the unique wildlife and unbeatable landscape, not to mention two of the most famous cities in the world, I couldn’t not go. And with that, I figured I would go to Indonesia as well to focus on my yoga headstands (see: child's pose).

It’s so hard to explain what I did and saw in the 77 days I was abroad, because every day was a new experience and every day was a challenge, whether it was finding someone to jump start our “vintage” van or finding a safe tree to sleep under.

The only thing I know with certainty is that the people I met along the way were what made the experience unforgettable. I drank with the Irish, laughed with the Danish, sailed with Canadians, danced with the Dutch, surfed and dined with the Aussies, explored with the English, and “took the piss out of” the Germans.

I loved cuddling with wild koalas in Otway National Park, feeding baby kangaroos in Alice Springs, playing underground in Coober Pedy, climbing Heart Attack Hill in Kings Canyon, watching the sunrise over Uluru, surfing in Byron Bay, riding motorcycles along the Bruce Highway, standing under waterfalls in Kakadu, seeing the churches of Adelaide, walking under the graffiti and devouring Thanksgiving dinner in Melbourne, exploring the Taronga Zoo and tranny bingo in Sydney, diving the Great Barrier Reef in Carins, learning how to sail in the Whitsundays, driving on the world’s largest sand island, the 360 degree views in the Grampians, the pinnacles along the Great Ocean Road, living in a van for 14 days, the temples of Indonesia, the most intense yoga known to woman and rice patties of Ubud, and all the lovely people I will remember forever.

Firsts

There's something about the first time I experience things that permeates my memory with more strength than any other form. So much so that when reminded of certain events or objects, I am without fail brought back to my first time. There have been a multitude of firsts for me in the last five weeks, some superficial and obvious being my first time visiting both Australia and Asia, and my first time sitting on a flight with my own TV conveniently placed on the back of the passenger in front of mine's seat.

Here are some firsts that made me feel like this trip was worth every penny:

1. Watching fireflies dance over rice terraces in the black night (Ubud, Bali)

2. Riding a motorcycle. And flooring it. I can see why people love it so much (Agnes Water, Queensland)

3. Learning how to sail may have instilled a lifelong passion for the sport (Whitsunday Islands, Queensland)

4. Finishing my first crossword without help from mom (En Route to Byron Bay, NSW)

5. Playing with kangaroos, emus, and monkeys made me realize that humans are quite similar (Cairns, Queensland)

6. Visiting my first Hindu deity thought to have magical forces (Legian, Bali)

7. Using public transportation all by myself was a liberating and challenging experience, despite what others may say (Sydney, NSW)

8. Being called a "best mate" by an Aussie (Airlie Beach, Queensland)

9. Actually caring about the outcome of a Rugby game, and understanding what's going on every seventh play. Do they have plays? (Airlie Beach, Queensland)

In Words...

Hello readers, if I have any left. I have been neglectful of my blog lately, in part because I am busy exploring some amazing wildlife in Australia and Indonesia. 

Thus, in bullet form:

• We embarked on the Greyhound to Byron Bay, a lovely and quaint town packed with surfers, hippies, and nature lovers. I did not want to leave here.
• Hopped on a bus to Nimbin, the hippie...and cannabis capital of Australia and home to the 1973 Aquarius Festival (think Woodstock).
• Rode the Greyhound to Rainbow Beach, a town with virtually nothing in it, but is still on everyone's travel stops. We stayed at Pippie's Beach House and met some of the coolest people I've ever known. We ended up singing songs and passing goon around a campfire.
• Then it was on to 1770/Agnes Waters where we spent some quality time getting vertical on surfboards, and tried our best Hells Angels impersonations when we rode motorcycles, complete with flame jackets and helmets and fake tattoos, around the Kangaroo infested town. 
• Again. The Greyhound. This time to Hervey Bay where we began our 4W drive journey through Fraser Island.
• The Greyhound. To Airlie Beach, one of the most beautiful, and fun towns along the East Coast. We embarked on our journey through the Whitsunday Islands from here.
• Greyhound. Last time taking the Greyhound! Thank the Lord. We arrive in Cairns at 11 p.m. It is still 98 degrees out...100 percent humidity. 
• Great Barrier Reef! We saw Dori, Nemo, and some sea turtles!
• We went on Uncle Brian's Adventure and we saw the site of the Herbal Essence commercials from the 1990s, rode down a natural water slide, and saw a platypus in the wild. 
• Spent some time in the Daintree, the world's oldest and most bio-diverse rain forest. 

• Arrived in Bali a few hours later than we expected (we didn't account for the time change).
• Spent nearly $100 on what exactly? Fake designer wallets, sunglasses, perfume, etc.
• Hawkers around every corner. This is what they say to you. Always a variation of "Hello Darling. Have look in my shop," "Good morning. Have look. I give good price," "Massage?" Gets me every time.
• Saw some amazing temples. Only problem is that it is over 100 degrees and to show respect, you need to wear sleeves and pants. Hellllloooo sweat.
• Oh, speaking of, I have TD. The first letter stands for Traveler's and the second word you can come up with yourself. Not pretty.
• Spent time at the Bali Museum, where I slipped on some stairs and sprained my ankle. I turned around and found nearly 35 Balinese breathless and holding their shirts over their contorted and heaving faces. Wonderful.
• Finally make it to Ubud. Find that it is still just as hot as Legian. Not cool, Bali. Not cool. 
• Oh, also purchased some completely legal DVDs from a store for $1 each. Have become a Gleek.
• Still have TD. Bad.

East Coast

We finally said goodbye to Sydney (after going to bed a bit too late and oversleeping, therefore missing our bus) we arrived in Byron Bay. When one thinks of the perfect Australian life, they are thinking of Byron Bay. Old men with hair covering their shoulders in tank tops exposing their brown, leathered skin...it's fabulous. Surfers line the streets as their boards hit cars and those not paying attention. We had the pleasure of visiting a "beer garden" which is basically an outdoor hut that plays live music and serves up excellent brews. They say that Byron hasn't changed since the 60's, when it was discovered that it had the best waves in all of Australia. The expats never left, and that's why there are so many old hippies here.

We met Aaron's dad's friend there named Ray and he was a gem. We talked journalism and the differences between American culture and Australian.

We also visited the hippie town of Nimbin, in which you cannot go one block without a little old lady asking you to buy her freshly baked "cookies".  Nimbin was the site of the 1973 Aquarius Festival, similar to Woodstock in The States, and it hasn't changed since.

We continued bumping along what Australians call "highways" until we reached Surfers Paradise (think Miami), Mooloolaba, and Rainbow Beach.

Tomorrow we leave to explore the largest sand island in the world, Fraser Island.

Highlights:

• I saw my first whale breaching, a humpback. It was majestic
• I went to the most easterly point of Australia
• Tried surfing. Got caught in a bit of a rip tide. I'm still alive.
• Tried barramundi. Excellent fish.

ACE

Over Spring Break, I had the pleasure of visiting the Ace Hotel in Palm Springs. The atmosphere was perfect for the mid century style of the area, and I soon found out that there was an Ace in Portland, OR as well as other areas around the country. I fell in LOVE with the hotel's style. Have a look for yourself. 

Portland

Palm Springs

New York

Seattle

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