Just like that, we were Thelma and Louise setting off to freedom. But instead of taking a wild flight from the law, we took a leap of unknown faith to escape the universal plight of muddled certainty, burdensome instability, and uncanny behavior from an individual who calls himself a man.
& while that man might be on his back, reading this post after playing several rounds of Candy Crush expecting business to be done while piles of dishes fester in his sink, fuming at the idea of me and my dear Thelma “sabotaging” his business, reputation, and entire life, I’ll continue to share my reality with my internet homies on this 4 hour flight to Australia completely and utterly unbothered!
Rest assured, my time in Australia has no motives to go into hiding. Inadvertently, it’s become a reset button to allow my relationship with beautiful New Zealand start anew. Like it’s always been said, space makes the heart grown fonder, and 2,587 miles (4,163 km) is exactly the space I need.
Now where do I begin?
Shall I start with arriving at my accommodation with no heads up (big emphasis on “no heads up”) that there will be strict restrictions on running water with the expectation to seldom flush the toilet, limit my water intake in 90 degree weather (32 degrees Celsius), and cook with no clean dishes? Or the part where I was frequently woken up to the sound of rats having a groovy jive up in the ceiling with all of their 100 cousins? Or the part where it was agreed that I’d be paid an X amount of dollars every week only to end up with my pockets empty on the dry road leading up to who knows where? Face pigmented pink with rage and seasoned with salt by tears. Oh no, I know! I should start with the part where I realized I came all the way to New Zealand and have been domesticated to nurse a grown ass man, his child, and his business while on “holiday!”
While this can very easily sound like a “Can I Speak to your Manager” one star TripAdvisor review and leave you all sorta entertained, I cant help but to feel thankful for the series of unfortunate events that have happened this past month. The lows only highlighted the highs I feel extremely blessed to have felt in the month I was in New Zealand. It has aided me in recognizing the never ending common thread we all share: often times, things never go to plan. And whether we choose to accept this inevitable fate or not, the world continues to do what it’s demanded to. Wouldn’t it be so much greater to just take the harsh reality as is?
We often romanticized the idea and travel and seldom speak about the challenges that come with relocation, especially done alone. At times, it can be incredibly isolating and you’re often met with the voice in your head that forces you to set that emotion aside because of how much you’ve been dreaming of this opportunity. To travel is a privilege and to speak of the mundane complications is concluded to be complaining. So what’s one to do?
I’m keeping it real with ya’ll and telling you that’s it’s so damn hard…& that’s OK.
Lesson have been learned, emotions have been emoted and experiences have been filed away for me to pull out at any given time when I’m old and gray and incredibly fierce. New Zealand has been wildly confusing, and I’m not quite sure what to make of the time I’ve spent there so far, but… this doesn’t bother me very much. To be in this state of confusion relinquishes my hard grasp I had over this interesting chapter in my life. I’ve been rushing to turn the pages instead of meditating on the words written right in front of me and simply accepting this unusual journey that I’m incredibly thankful for.
I look forward to going back, but for now, I’m a bit thankful to lovingly take a step away.
TL;DR: As lost and wildly confused as I was, God ALWAYS came through.
Cheers to the Big Man upstairs!