I landed in California 4 days ago, but it feels like I've only been here 1 day. Jet lag, I guess.

The first thing I did after being picked up at the airport and sitting in typical California traffic was get some In n Out burger! Cheeseburger, Fries and a Barq's root beer. SO GOOD.

Most days/nights have been a blur since then. I've been sleeping a lot. I can easily sleep to 11am if not longer. Partially because I can't fall asleep until 3am (on average) but also because the room I'm in is so dark. It's luxurious and I'm enjoying every minute of sleep.

Friday night, Kate and I went to Chili's (Buffalo Chicken Salad) in San Leandro. It was packed. We waited for about 30 minutes to be seated, which I enjoyed tremendously. Taking in the cultural diversities was entertainment enough. I'd say the clientele were 90% African American and Latino, 10% Caucasian (and that might be generous). 

Saturday night was Chipotle (Salad with Chicken and Guacamole) and then over to a friends' for Cards Against Humanity, which I can only describe as a Mad Libs style card game where you can only fill in the blanks with the most offensive options available to you. Check your sensibilities at the door, and it's WHOLE LOT of fun. 

Sunday was spent shopping with Kate and then we had Casper's (Cheesedog with a little mustard) from the Hayward location. I once got very stoned in college and ate TWO of these foot long hotdogs. I did NOT feel well afterwards. But then, I didn't really care either.

It may seem like I'm having a food tour of the bay area, but a girl's gotta eat and I am enjoying all my favorite things. Even Thin Mint Girl Scout Cookies and Trader Joe's frozen burritos and tamales. 

Two posts ago, I said I was concerned that US me would want to stay in the US and that Australian Me would be out of luck. Well, US me is still concerned for Australian me, but at this point and for the next few months, I'm going to relieve myself of the burden of figuring out "the rest of my life". There is no great sin in enjoying where you are in the moment and future me is just going to have to live with that. Wherever that may be.

So far, I'm having a great time taking it easy and enjoying myself with no agenda.

Last night in Oz

It's my last night in Australia before the big adventure. Everything's all taken care of. I've checked into my flights, booked an airport shuttle, packed my bags and enlisted the help of my flatmate to assist me in carrying my luggage down 4 flights of stairs in the morning. My friend Kate will pick me up from the airport in San Francisco.

I've really enjoyed the last two months, which is exactly how long I've been unemployed. Coming and going as I please, watching all the movies in the theatre, golfing, planning this trip I'm about to go on. I've spent a lot of time with friends and that's been the best part.

The next two months (hopefully longer) will be more of the same. A quick recap:

• San Francisco / Bay Area for 9 days
• Friends
• Seattle for 4 days
• Friends
• Pike's Market, etc
• Florida with the folks for 25 days
• Met's vs Red Sox spring training game
• Harry Potter World
• Scotland
• Glasgow
• Loch Ness
• Paris
• Too much to list...I'm looking forward to these blog posts =)
• Italy (not yet booked)
• Copenhagen (not yet booked)
• And then whatever my heart desires

I vow to update this blog at least once in each location, ideally a little something everyday (at least when I'm in Europe). I will also try to include more pictures than I have included thus far (current photo count: zero).

Stress Bucket

There is a clear difference between knowing something and feeling something. For example:

I know that:

• I'm going to have a great time travelling
• I am building amazing memories
• No one ever said, "Gee, that was a terrible idea to travel the world" (thanks for that one, Meegz)
• I have enough money
• I have enough time
• If I have any problems, I have friends and family all over the world who would help me

But the closer I get to Thursday (when I fly out of Oz), the tighter I feel. I have been trying to define it, describe it...nail it down so I can get over it. I have no fears about running out of money or getting injured. I have no fears about getting lost or being in a plane crash or terrorist attack (which would be reasonable fears considering the state of the world in 2015). Here are my best attempts to explain what's got me all bunged up.

• At this point, I want to move back to Australia and fear that when I'm in the US, I'll want to stay there, leaving "Australian me" out of luck
• I am saying "Goodbye for now" to all my friends in Sydney but it still feels like "Goodbye forever". The heaviness in my chest and tightness in my muscles are strong as ever.
• I've been "planning" for 6 months. Planning every detail of when to quit my job, where to go, what to do when I'm there. I've trained myself to focus on the future. Now that it's here, it's time, I am worried that I will not enjoy myself in the present moment.

Even as I type these things, I know they are ridiculous fears. I will not be sitting at a cafe in Paris thinking, "Why am I here? I should be planning my trip to Copenhagen." Just like today - I am going to a farewell lunch in a half hour with a handful of friends. I will be in the moment, enjoying their company. Just like two days ago when I was out golfing with a friend. At no point was I thinking about anything other than how wonderful the weather was and what awesome chip shots I was making. =) 

Knowing that my 'fears' are irrational, I want them to go away. I want to loosen up in my down time. I wanat to stop filling these quiet moments with worry. 

Ok, nerdy/self-help time.

What would future me say to today me?

"Don't give it another thought. When a worry comes up, let it come and just as easily as it came, let it go. You don't need to keep yourself busy to distract yourself either because then you're not letting the worry go. You're capturing it and putting it deep inside you to deal with after the busy work. It doesn't need to be dealt with because it's not valuable or valid. 

Pretend like it's someone you accidentally run into on the street. Say 'Oh, I'm sorry" and move on.

P.S. You're going to have a great time on the trip and no matter how much you plan, you can't possibly predict it all. It's way more awesome than you can imagine!"

Thanks Future Me! I feel much better!

Bagpipes, Loch Ness and Kilts. Oh, my.

After two restless nights and acidic stomach-churning days of research into flight plans and options, options, options I finally found something that would work perfectly.

Glasgow Scotland!

Scotland's largest city with tons to see and do. The flights were easy to book and the transfers made sense (for example, some options had me flying into Gatwick and out of Heathrow...a bullshit complication that I just didn't need).

The options and opportunities never stop, and this is something I'm going to have to learn to lean into but I'll save that line of thinking for another day.

I've booked flights from Miami to Glasgow and Glasgow to Paris. It's starting to feel like the adventure is about to begin...and it damn well should as I fly out of Oz in 8 days!

P.S. On Saturday, I was in a park in Sydney having a coffee and some dude was playing bagpipes. If my life were a movie, that would've been excellent foreshadowing...and we could have a montage of my flights with bagpipe music playing throughout. 

-end scene

What I've learned so far

Last week, I went to Samsung (my old place of work) to have lunch and coffee with some friends. One of whom asked me, "What have you learned so far?" Meaning, what have I learned since my last day at Samsung, since being jobless and free. It was a HARD question. Here is my attempt to answer it.

My instinct, once becoming unemployed, was to pinch my pennies. Save all the money I could for my "upcoming adventures." I think I spent $20 in something like 4 weeks. Great effort really! But what a miserable time I was having. I rarely left the house, watched too much TV, didn't see anyone for a meal or coffee.  Like any corporation will tell you "Plan, Do, Check, Act (or Adjust)". I planned to save money. I did save money. I looked at how it was making me feel (bored and lonely) and adjusted my plan. "What's the point of saving money when you're not really living?" I asked myself. I decided that I would still be frugal, but at least buy a coffee every day. 

Side note: Australia has fantastic coffee. Really. They know their stuff. For instance, Starbucks never took off here. I know of two in Sydney and they're where all the Americans go to be tourists and drink terrible coffee. Australia, instead, has small coffee shops EVERYWHERE. And Lane Cove (where I currently live) has some of the best coffee I've had. 

So, I'd at least buy coffee, which helped me relax and spend money here or there on meals out with friends, seeing Wicked at the Capitol Theatre, golfing, etc. Lesson 1: Just because I wasn't in America or Europe didn't mean that my life wasn't worth living (aka spending a little money on). Phrase to remember: "Enjoy yourself".

The second instinct I had was to sleep in. Why bother waking up at 8am, when I didn't have to. Sleeping in was great for about a week and then I started to feel like I was wasting the day. It's much better to go to the movies (which I've done A LOT - one of my favourite things in the world) while people are at work. There are far fewer people to hate for talking during the film. The buses and trains always have a seat in the middle of the day. The library is open (free wi-fi and endless entertainment). Everything is better. And if I wanted to stay up to 3am writing or reading, I could do that and then sleep in, but as a treat, not a habit. Lesson 2: I prefer to be out and about in the world while everyone else is at work. Phrase to remember: "Sleeping in is great...every once in a while."

There's one final thing. It's not something I necessarily learned recently, but it's something that keeps coming up in my life. A lesson I tend to have to learn and then re-learn. Lesson 3: Options are great, but they can be a great burden too. Phrases to remember: "Pull the trigger" or "Throw my cap over the wall"

I have spent more hours than I'd like to admit just looking at my options. Example: When would I like to fly to the US, where would I like to go and for how long in each place? First, I knew I was getting my Citizenship on Jan 26th and could then get my passport (after waiting 10 business days and then applying for my passport and paying to expedite it's delivery - p.s. The Australian Government completed my passport within 48 hours). So, I did my math and figured that Feb 19th was a good day; enough time to get my passport (and allow for any unexpected mishaps), not so much time that I'd be sitting around doing nothing for too long. As it turns out, I have about 2 weeks "down time". Then came the 'where'. Did I want to go to San Francisco to see friends or just one friend or should I settle down there for a while? Did I want to go to Cleveland to visit family? Did I want to go to Boston because I'd never been? Should I fly or buy a car somewhere and drive around? These types of questions are fun at first. But the options become too many and a little too crazy. "I suppose I could fly into Cleveland for a day or two, but then who would I see and how could I only see one or two people and then fly out of there? No, when I go to Cleveland I'll want to go for a week or so. Could I do that now? But then you're postponing going to Europe." Blah blah blah. I finally just sat down and forced myself to book flights. I decided that whatever I booked would be perfect. 9 days in San Francisco, 4 days in Seattle and then on to visit my parents. As soon as I booked the fights, it felt like a HUGE weight was lifted...until today.

I have to book my flight to Europe and I'm done putting it off. I am meeting a friend in Paris on April 6th. You'd think that'd make my decision easy. You're wrong. The airport(s) near my parents' house don't fly to Paris that week (I'm using Qantas Frequent Flyer points - that was another decision...do I pay cash or use the points). So, do I fly to another US city and fly out of there (Boston?) or do I fly to Europe earlier and entertain myself for 4-5 days somewhere other than Paris?

Oh boy, that was today GONE. I started looking up Easter Festivals. Did you know there is a small town on a Greek Island where two churches fire rockets (like fireworks) at each other across a river all night from 8pm until after midnight on the Saturday before Easter? So, I looked into that for the better part of an hour. Three layovers on several airlines I'd never heard of, 18 hours total travel time -- Yeah, I could do that, but there were NO websites that give opinions on the best hotels or how to get to the festival. Plus one site said that most people actually hide in the churches for safety because "Dangers: Being hit by a stray rocket." Would I even be able to get a picture of it or would I be hunkered down somewhere, trying to avoid fiery rocket death?

I've thought about (meaning fully planned every possible option for) going to Iceland, Chicago, Boston, Greece, Ireland, Seville Spain...I don't even know if I'm having fun anymore. It is at this point where I throw my hands in the air and say, "STOP IT! Just book something! It doesn't have to be perfect. Just pick something and GO!"

So, tomorrow (after I get confirmation that my parents can take me to an airport that's 2 1/2 hours from their house) I'm going to 'pull the trigger'...'throw my cap over the wall' and book something. I will book it and after I've booked it, I will make it work.

Stay tuned for destination deatils (because even I don't know at this point).

The longest blog entry I'll probably ever write

I would like to tell the story of my citizenship, but it's not going to be what you're expecting because I was distracted.

It'd been my goal to obtain Australian Citizenship since having been in Sydney one year. At that point, I knew I was going to stay. So, one day I sat down and wrote a list of goals. Not just a bucket list, but a chart. What I want, why I wanted it, how I was going to get it (what obstacles I would have to overcome).

This was an important thing for me. I applied for my Permanent Residency, filling out 25 pages of the application. I obtained letters of reference, certified copies of my birth certificate and passport, proof of residency, and FBI and Australian Federal police reports which proved that I was not (am not) a criminal. I paid $2,500 to apply and waited 2 years to get it. After the Permanent Residency came through, I had to wait 12 months before applying for the Citizenship. At 12:01am (immediately after midnight) exactly 12 months from being granted PR, I applied online for my Citizenship. Again, I provided proof of who I was and my residency. I was assigned a day and time to take the Citizenship Exam, which I passed with flying colours. And then began the long wait for the final step. The Ceremony. It took 6 months to be assigned a date. Australia Day! There is no better day to be made an official Australian. There are flags a-flyin' and it feels like the whole world is celebrating your citizenship.

Here's where the story takes a turn (small warning, I'm going to get more personal than I am usually with anyone). About a month before my ceremony, I started noticing some soreness in my left breast. It was like someone was pressing their thumb quite firmly on the outside near my ribs, on the top left or directly on my nipple. It would come and go and didn't worry me. As any woman knows, breast soreness is part of the deal. They hurt when they grow, they hurt when menstruating, they can hurt for no reason.

As soon as I noticed the sore spots, I started doing frequent breast exams. Now, the thing with a self breast exam is that you're told, as a young girl, how to do it. You lift your arm above your head and, with your fingers together, press in circles. You do this around the breast, on the chest, in the armpits. What we're told to feel for are lumps. A lump is often described as small (maybe as small as a pea) and hard. What I don't remember being told is that breasts are basically filled with all kinds of things. Ducts, glands, fatty tissue, muscle. And it's up to each of us to know what the "normal" feeling is for our own breasts, which is why we're told to regularly check them, so that we can recognise the difference. I've been checking mine regularly since I was 16, so, I've got my baseline for normal.

The mind is a funny thing. Let's say you find a hard lump on the back of your left hand. You start to panic. What the hell is that? Then you ask yourself routine questions. "Did I hit my hand against something?" You feel it, poke it, try to move it around, as if all that will help define it or make it go away. Then you start feeling the back of your right hand, to see if you have the same thing on the other hand. If you find it, and you realise it is a normal bone needed for a hand, you calm right down and feel a little silly really, but all the poking and prodding is an anxiety multiplier.

At first, I felt nothing out of the ordinary, or if I did, I felt the same sort of thing on my right breast and therefore thought, "Sure, that's normal. Breasts are full of bumpy things. This is normal."

Then, like normal, I would go about my days - which are such a blessing at the moment. Each day is filled only by what I want to do. Go to the library, write, read, see movies (a lot of movies), go to lunch or dinner with friends, take walks. I notice each incredible gift while I'm out in the world. If I take a bus or train into the city, I always take the time to notice the Opera House view as I go by. I've enjoyed taking pictures of birds on my walks.

The other day, I was walking home from the bus late at night. I responded to a friend's text message and looked up just in time to see a massive (about the size of my palm) spider building his web right across the sidewalk. I stopped (in time before being trapped forever and swallowed whole) and took a picture, admiring how amazing Australia is and that spider in particular. I really do enjoy every flower, every type of weather, every sip of coffee.

I can't remember the first time that it happened, but I started noticing some pain while doing my out and about things. I'd be on the bus, looking out the window at the harbour and all the sudden wince, my attention captured by some mild soreness. "Maybe it's a period related thing. I'll wait for my next one and see if it continues after that." And it did. I'd walk home, sit in the movies, read in bed and in the middle of it all, more and more often, I'd find myself forced to notice this 'not normal' soreness with an involuntary wince. The pain was not terrible. The wince was more of a reaction in recognition of something I didn't want to be feeling.

And then, I started to notice the 'not normal' lumpiness.

Now, here are some thoughts that cross my mind.

• You really don't want to share this news with anyone. You'd just worry them for no reason.
• You should get this checked out.
• Maybe it'll go away on its own.
• It's only been a week (then two, then three, then a month).
• Could it be muscle related?
• I'm leaving the country in three weeks, if it is something serious, I'd want to take care of it in Australia. I trust the health care here.

Then I called to make an appointment at the Sydney Breast Clinic, but I found a reason to "have to call back later" and hung up, not having made the appointment. At least a week went by. I decided to focus on my citizenship ceremony.

I sat on the couch, practicing the Australian National Anthem, subconsciously feeling for lumps. Breathing deeply in or out, assessing if maybe my bra was just too tight, causing all this fuss.

The day of my Citizenship Ceremony I was very excited. First of all, it was raining, so the location was moved to the Library (which was AWESOME because I love this library and go there all the time). 

Ten of my dearest friends came to celebrate and watch me become a true blue Aussie. I greeted each of them on their arrival and stood with them while a jazz ensemble played jaunty tunes. I smiled and was genuinely thrilled that they each came to celebrate this huge day with me. 

I was seated in line with all the other new citizens. The Town Crier (Bill Wallace) rang his bell and called out that we are all welcome here for this occasion. Wince. "Oh, not now," I thought. The nagging soreness was quite a distraction, interfering with my joy. I sat there in the library, staring at the guest speakers one by one congratulating us all, while a tormenting internal debate raged on, "You're going to have to get this checked out." / "After the trip." / "Really, and what if it is...you know what?" / "Voldemort?" / "Oh knock it off. Stop deflecting. What if it is Cancer (with a capital C) and you go on your holiday without getting it taken care of or diagnosed. Are you willing to let it kill you?" / "Well, maybe that's a good way to go. To die doing what I love." / "Are you serious? / "No, I'm scared, now can I please just focus on what the Mayor is saying about Lane Cove?"

When the speeches were complete, we (new citizens) stood and swore an oath to Australia. And then our names were called, and one by one, we walked up to the podium to accept our Citizenship and shake hands with the Mayor. I saw one friend (with my camera) go to my left and two other friends (with their cameras) go to my right. Everyone taking pictures from all angles. My name was called and I went up. I shook the mayor's hand, someone to my right (some official of some variety) said, "Oh, you brought a fan club". I was so excited and nervous, standing there with my paperwork, I didn't even notice if anyone cheered. I turned the mayor to my right and we posed for a picture. 

After all the names were called, and all the applause concluded, I stood to join my friends and take pictures with them. I wanted more than anything to capture my love and appreciation for them in each snapshot. It meant the world to me that they came.

We ate lamingtons. And I was given a plant from the boy scouts (the plant type was "Eggs and Bacon"...I'm not kidding!) And I was given a baseball style cap from the local Rotary that looked like The Australian Flag.

Later that night, I went to dinner with a good friend. We were going to meet at the restaurant. I was early, as usual. Wince. "Oh God Damn it. Just call. Make the appointment." And so I called. I left a message at the clinic that I'd like to make an appointment and please call me the following day. 

My good friend showed up soon after and took me to Jamie's Italian to celebrate the citizenship. After dinner, we walked to the Opera House just in time to see fireworks. It was an incredible day, wonderful evening, spent with the people I love.

It rained all day the following day. Wednesday. Buckets of rain. I stayed home and looked over the pictures again and again of my friends and my special day. Finally achieving this goal, so long in the making. Wince. Shit. And then I got a phone call from the clinic. I made the appointment for Friday morning. I would need to get a doctor's referral before coming in.

And then Thursday morning, I called to cancelled the appointment out of sheer fear that they would find something, but I blamed it on anything else. I knew it was a private facility and therefore would cost money (could be $500-$1,000 minus 30% that Medicare would cover). I waffled back and forth about that. "I have the money" / "Yeah, but that's for your adventures." / "It's probably nothing," I'd say, not believing it, "but what is the price for peace of mind?"

Only, when I got through to someone at the clinic, it was a friend of mine. You see, months ago, I'd run into her after not seeing her for about a year. We were at a mutual friend's party, celebrating that friend's Permanent Residency (the same friend who bought me dinner to celebrate my citizenship). Well, this friend that I'd run into at the party told me all about her story. 

Now, I feel that it is every one's right to tell their own story, so I'll keep it brief and unspecific. Basically, she was working at the Sydney Breast Clinic and found herself dealing with breast health issues of her own. Her story was inspiring and a little terrifying because she had no symptoms what-so-ever and ended up with some pretty serious decisions to make. 

So, when I called to cancel my appointment, I lied to my friend about not being able to get a Dr's certificate. I hung up, feeling ashamed and no closer to being done with the discomfort, unknowing and fear. But the thing about a friend is...

She sent me a private message on Facebook and told me to get in touch with her when I wanted to rebook my appointment, that she'd make sure I was taken care of.

I hopped on a bus, went to a medical centre and was seen within 3 minutes (That NEVER happens. I've waited 2 hours at that medical centre to see someone). The doctor asked me if there was anyone in my family with breast cancer. I said, "Yes, my aunt on my mother's side." This time she winced. She said something about it being a close connection. "Do you have any lumps?" I said, "It's lumpy not so much A lump." And after a few more preliminary questions, she examined me. She barely had her fingertips on my skins when she said, "Yes, it is rather lumpy." Her bedside manner was spectacular, honestly, but there is nothing this woman could have done or said that would've eased my nerves. She said something about it being natural for some woman to have lumpy breasts, "even without a lot of breast tissue" which I remember thinking "Is she saying I have small breasts...really?" But then she said, "I am going to recommend an ultrasound." And all the sudden, it became REALLY REAL. "I know that is probably not what you want to hear," she said, "but you don't need to worry." To which I visibly and audibly scoffed. As if I could control the floodgate of emotions. I held it together, requesting that she give me a referral to the Sydney Breast Clinic, that I had a friend there, etc. While she was writing the referral, I was already texting my friend to see if she could get my appointment back.

I folded the paper and walked out. I made it 30 feet before sitting down and calling my mother. With tears in my eyes, trying to hide the emotion from my voice, I said the facts, "A doctor has recommended that I get an ultrasound." My mother's reaction couldn't have been more perfect. She assured me that it was nothing. That she's gone through it and of course they have to check with an ultrasound, but don't worry, because worrying never solves anything. My tears cleared up and I asked technical questions about our relatives with breast cancer. Again, my mother's delivery was better than I could have expected, "There is a good kind of breast cancer, the kind that doesn't spread. The good kind is the type of cancer in our family." Like, even if this turns out to be something, "meh, we only get the good stuff". No worries.

I hung up feeling relieved mentally, loved by my parents and like my blood was swirling in an emotional mess. Two out of three wasn't bad.

I made an appointment at the clinic for the following morning. Then, I went to a movie to distract myself. The Theory of Everything. The Stephen Hawking story. I cried the whole time. Yes, the movie was good, but I really needed to get the emotions out. After the movie, I turned my phone back on to find that my friend at the clinic had messaged me. She said she was going to take care of me. She sent two or three super supportive messages and then the tears really started to flow.

I got a hold of myself and decided to walk across the street to my old place of work. There I caught up with friends I hadn't seen in a year and a half. We talked about my Citizenship, my upcoming travel and how they'd been. It was just the mood lifter (and distraction) I needed.

Tonight, I ordered delivery and decided to write this. (In the middle of which, my friend at the clinic messaged me, "See you tomorrow", giving me good reason not to chicken out again). Tomorrow morning at 8:30 I'll see my friend and get this thing checked out. I'm going to wait for the results before posting this entry because I don't want to make anyone have to wait.

I've gone through every possible outcome, as one is bound to do. I've made plans in my head for the worst, but more than anything I give myself permission to cry either way. And either way, I will pick my head up and do whatever's next, do what need doing.

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It's 1pm the following day. I had my appointment at 8:30am and after three hours of feeling, pressing, squishing, squashing, mammogram and ultrasound, the verdict is good. I'm in the clear. (I have written a detailed account of the day, but will save you the details).

Everything is "normal" and "lovely". And that's when I wanted the doctor to stop talking, but she didn't. 

She felt that out of the three levels of risk for familial breast cancer, I was only not in the least risky group by a technicality (I was "barely" in the second level of risk). She was not worried so much about my Aunt (and a cousin, which I found out from my mother). She would be more worried if it were my mother and grandmother, for example. Then there would be a clear link in my immediate family. She then said that there are four levels of breast density. The first two, the lowest two, are where 90% of women fall. Then there's the "dense" level 3 and then there's "insanely dense" which is where I sit. She called this, "and elite group of women". I thought that was a cute way to put it. Unfortunately, women with this type of breast density (basically my breasts have an abundance of milk glands), are more likely to develop breast cancer. For some reason, this density is a hormone haven for things like that to develop. 

What this means for me is that I will need regular (annual) mammograms coupled with ultrasounds. 

So, "All clear" were the words I wanted to hear - and I did. And though "high risk" were words that I also heard, I'm looking at it this way...More frequent and thorough checking means the likelihood of finding something earlier rather than later is also high. And I like that (though I will always hope there is nothing to find). 

Thanks for reading this massive blog post. I hope it wasn't an "over share". I felt like it couldn't hurt to express the anxiety I went through, and the repeated attempts to avoid finding out what was going on. I'm sure a lot of women feel this way, but ultimately knowing is better. Now I have peace of mind for my trip, and a clear plan of action for my health in the future. 

The World is my Tapas

Warning: I hate this blog entry. When I was inspired to write it, I had higher hopes. I thought maybe there would be a better "wrap up" or point, but I feel like it ended up being disjointed. Rather than clean it up, I am going to leave it a mess...because I am mad at it and need some alone time to think about where we went wrong. This entry and I.

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I am a huge fan of Elizabeth Gilbert. She is the author of Eat, Pray, Love and the speaker in a couple of brilliant TED Talks. She is honest, loving (to everyone on the planet) and a travel junky.

I'm currently reading her follow-up to Eat, Pray, Love. Committed. Elizabeth Gilbert's book about marriage. 

I was so hoping it would be a yummy set of stories and events like EPL, but it reads more like a history book about marriage, women, men, expectation and parenting. While she's explaining what she's learned, sharing quotes and historical anecdotes, she's wrapped these facts within the story of her own engagement. 

A little back story here. Liz found a man with whom she would like to spend the rest of her life, but marriage was a sore topic for them both (having both been divorced). He was Brazilian with Australian citizenship...not American, like herself. He was eventually stopped by Homeland Security and refused entry to the US because he was repeatedly staying on 90 day Visas and the US got sick of it. This caused Liz and her boyfriend to make a decision about how they could/would spend the rest of their lives together. Marriage was the obvious choice (for them), but because this is a governmental affair, they were delayed from marrying in the US for many, many months (even with lawyers to help speed up the process). They decided to spend the time together in Southeast Asia, where they could afford to live (since his business dealt mostly inside America and he could no longer go there). 

I'm feeling like this was maybe too much back story, because the point I want to make is simple really. Elizabeth found out that, though they were both avid travellers, they were different kinds of travellers. I had no idea there were different kinds, had never thought about it.

For Liz, she loved to jump from place to place exploring constantly. For her fiance, he loved to travel to a place and settle down - even after just 3 days, he would settle into a routine, identify his favourite restaurant and bar and could easily live there, work there and stay for an indefinite period of time, no matter where they were (Laos for example).

Reading this made me ask the question, "What kind of traveller am I?"

My gut reaction is that I don't travel all that often. I'm a bit of a homebody who loves routine. I watch TV, I love my local library. I could easily go to work, come home, go to sleep and start again the next day without much trouble. I like a steady paycheck and the routine of paying my bills on the 17th of every month.

But this is a narrow and fairly inaccurate representation of what I actually enjoy and do. Sure there are the comforts of routine, but when I started to really look I saw something very different.

When I was in my late teens and early 20's, just starting to explore (Los Angeles, Seattle, Northern California) I would drive aimlessly, staying at different hotels and motels each night. I drove from New Jersey to California only stopping for food and sleep. I enjoyed eating gumbo in New Orleans, the river walk in San Antonio, border crossings nowhere near a border. I would rarely stay in a single town for longer than a few days. Gobbling up bits and pieces of each place. I traveled to Alaska (Dog sled ride with an Iditarod dog sled team), Washington DC (Millennium March for gay rights), Las Vegas (losing money at blackjack), Utah (saw the Mormon temple in Salt Lake City), New York (too many to list). I enjoyed flying to a new state, new city. Even the places I travelled to more than once were still filled with new activities. Alaska - I went once in the winter and once in the summer. Wildly different experiences. I took a bus tour from Fairbanks to Anchorage, snaking in and out of Canada. I've been to New York/New Jersey a half a dozen times or more, never staying in the same area. For the most part, I would explore new corners, new museums, new stores, restaurants. Travelling to me was like tapas. I wanted little tastes of everything I could get my hands on.

There were the occasional things that captured my attention. For example, I've been to the Met (Metropolitan Museum of Art) to stare at the same sculpture on no less than 5 different trips. I went to Yankee Stadium on 3 different trips. I've been to Disneyland at least 20 times. I suppose even with tapas, one can have a favourite restaurant.

When I turned 30, I came to Australia. This was a different kind of travelling. I kept a blog for months about all the differences between America and Australia. The people, the culture, the language, driving on different sides of the road. I did my best to notice the differences and then I settled into them. But the settling turned Sydney into a "home base" from which to travel.

During these 6 1/2 years in Australia, I have lived in 7 different homes around Sydney. I have seen Melbourne, Perth, Adelaide, the Gold Coast, the Hunter Valley, Pebbly Beach, The Blue Mountains, Mildura (seeing Outback NSW on the way - wild EMU!), Wollongong and a number of other places (including Auckland New Zealand, a 4 day trip to Vietnam). 

And do you know what thought ALWAYS creeps into my head? "Sarah, you don't explore enough. There have been so many more days spent working, or watching TV than travelling. Its lopsided."

I feel like I require constant change. If I can't travel endlessly, if I need to keep a job to pay the bills, then I'll change homes (10 between college and Australia). I'll take long weekend trips to destinations within reach (hence my LA/Disneyland obsession in my early 20's). Settling down in the same house for 50 years, going to the same vacation home every summer - this is not for me. 

I want to travel like a maniac. I don't want to rent an apartment in Rome for 3 months, I want to eat pasta there, and Pizza in Naples. I want to pay too much for a gondola ride in Venice, take my picture next to the leaning tower of Pisa. I want to ingest bite-sized pieces of each wonderful place and then move onto the next.