The lounge room floor is strewn with travel guides, Spanish phrase books, pieces of paper scrawled with details of places we might like to go. My mind is full of visions of beautiful places, interesting people and a new language and way of life. The bank account is not quite full enough, but surely it will work out. I don't doubt that in around 7 months we will be off on the adventure of a life time, starting in Santiago, Chili, then heading to many unknown and exciting destinations, perhaps for a few months, perhaps for a year. I am ridiculously excited, looking forward to it more than anything.
Though last night I felt sad that we would be leaving. I cried, in front of my school principal, when she told me I wasn't allowed to go, she wanted to keep me. I cried only a little, and I cried because of how great life is now. I cried a little bit because I imagined the last day of school, saying goodbye to my 21 little kiddies who I have grown so attached to, knowing that I won't see them again for a while, and when I do, that attachment is likely to be lost. I cried a little bit because I imagined waving goodbye at the airport, to whoever drops me off. I cried a little bit because my dad will be stuck at home and I wondered about how my friendships might change when I return. I cried a little bit because I am so comfortable in the place I am in right now, and I will be changing all of that.
We will be challenging ourselves, hopefully opening our eyes up to the world around us, a world that is not filled with Western wealth and materialism. Perhaps it will be a world that is a little slower paced, where siestas are commonplace and family is most important. I'm hoping it will be a world that is a little less complicated to live in, perhaps a few less bills to pay, a few less reasons to work so hard that you forget to live. But we won't know until we are there, experiencing what South America has to offer. Whilst now I worry about leaving, I also worry that I won't want to return. What if we prefer life in South America? What if we decided to stay there for good? Realistically it probably wont happen... But if it does? Would we have the guts to stay?
Saturday 30 July 2011
Saturday 4 June 2011
My garden
When I contemplate my dream house, I rarely think of the number of bedrooms, what the kitchen looks like, what colour the walls will be. I think of the garden, of the little piece of paradise that I could create there. I have a garden in my mind. The trees and flowers and vegetables. I dream of a little orchard of fruit trees, raised garden beds, bird and butterfly attracting natives, perhaps a frog bog and creek. I'm thinking about cubby houses made of trellis and climbers, plants to touch and smell and taste, trees to climb, hills to roll down (and climb back up!) Gardening doesn't bring so much satisfaction when renting, my pots full of plants will come with me when I move, but I would prefer to be planting in the ground.
In the last week plants have brought me so much joy. The first pink camelia greeting me on my way up the driveway, brightening a frosty morning, beautiful regardless of my dislike of camelias. The morning sun rising over the hills, bathing the tops of the majestic mountain ash in gold as I walk into school. My little potted veggie patch growing growing growing, getting ever closer to harvest. Buds appearing on the bare magnolia tree, though the brilliant flowers are a long way off.
In the last week plants have brought me so much joy. The first pink camelia greeting me on my way up the driveway, brightening a frosty morning, beautiful regardless of my dislike of camelias. The morning sun rising over the hills, bathing the tops of the majestic mountain ash in gold as I walk into school. My little potted veggie patch growing growing growing, getting ever closer to harvest. Buds appearing on the bare magnolia tree, though the brilliant flowers are a long way off.
Saturday 21 May 2011
Stuff is nonsense
The end of the world has come and gone very uneventfully, and aren't I glad!? It made me wonder why we are always counting the days, and what would go wrong if we didn't. Something to ponder about.
Our resolve for South America is strengthening, refusing to spend money unless it's necessary, learning tid bits of Spanish, telling the world about our plans. We helped a friend move house yesterday, and it made it just a little bit more real. That is what we'll be doing in a few months. Instead of moving our 'things' from one house to another, we'll be selling them, donating them, begging people to take care of a piece of furniture or a box of bits and pieces that we can't bear to part with. There isn't too much in that category. Our attachment really limits itself to the papasam chairs and bookshelf, our teapots and crystal glasses, our beautiful quilts and James' toy firetrucks, our beautiful lamp, and perhaps the computer. I'm sure the pile will be large, but not as large as the get rid of pile.
A few years ago I went on a trip to Fiji with a family I worked for, it wasn't a nice experience, two weeks at an island resort, itching to get out and see the real Fiji. We did have one beautiful experience, the only time we left the resort was to visit a local village, we attended a church service in a little sweating wooden building, with windows wide open to catch the breeze and a congregation of curious stares at the foreigners who were given the honour of the front pew.
We were invited into a beautiful, joyous womans home. She had 5 children, her husband working for the local council, and she was proud to show us how they lived. Their home was a single room, a beautiful room the same size as my lounge, a few meters from the sandy beach. A curtain across the middle to separate an area to sleep in, a gas burner in the corner with a few pots and pans, grass matts on the floor and a single chest of draws. She was enourmously proud of her little house, perhaps 'third world' by western standards. My heart swelled to twice its normal size I am sure. My heart swelled at the thought of living with so little need for posession, so much joy brought purely by the people you surround yourself with.
The laughter of the children in the village, the joy on the women's faces, the shy teenagers desperate for a look at Western culture. The men of the village had retired to the village hall for a Kava Ceremony, to which we were invited. From a single glance this village looked so proud and happy, so comfortable and loving, a place where you would be passed from one mother to another as a baby, and cared for by the whole village as an elder. I have no doubts that some aspects of their lifestyle may be slightly 'unsavoury' but heading back to the resort I had a great desire to jump off the bus, head back to the village and stay there. Coming home it was hard not to think about throwing out all of my possessions. It was hard not to feel guilty about the amount of 'stuff' I owned, my insane desire for more, when there is really no need for it. I know it is cultural, I know I'm not to blame for want want want, but to live with so little, and so little need for more, would be so satisfying. To think of our ecological footprint is amazing, how easily it could be changed.
Perhaps our trip is about more than adventure, more than a year off, more than wanting to see another way of life. Perhaps it will also be a cleansing experience, a chance to start from scratch when we return, with the knowledge that anything we acquire has the potential to follow us to our death bed. And on our death bed what will we want? Very little, I anticipate, apart from each other.
Our resolve for South America is strengthening, refusing to spend money unless it's necessary, learning tid bits of Spanish, telling the world about our plans. We helped a friend move house yesterday, and it made it just a little bit more real. That is what we'll be doing in a few months. Instead of moving our 'things' from one house to another, we'll be selling them, donating them, begging people to take care of a piece of furniture or a box of bits and pieces that we can't bear to part with. There isn't too much in that category. Our attachment really limits itself to the papasam chairs and bookshelf, our teapots and crystal glasses, our beautiful quilts and James' toy firetrucks, our beautiful lamp, and perhaps the computer. I'm sure the pile will be large, but not as large as the get rid of pile.
A few years ago I went on a trip to Fiji with a family I worked for, it wasn't a nice experience, two weeks at an island resort, itching to get out and see the real Fiji. We did have one beautiful experience, the only time we left the resort was to visit a local village, we attended a church service in a little sweating wooden building, with windows wide open to catch the breeze and a congregation of curious stares at the foreigners who were given the honour of the front pew.
We were invited into a beautiful, joyous womans home. She had 5 children, her husband working for the local council, and she was proud to show us how they lived. Their home was a single room, a beautiful room the same size as my lounge, a few meters from the sandy beach. A curtain across the middle to separate an area to sleep in, a gas burner in the corner with a few pots and pans, grass matts on the floor and a single chest of draws. She was enourmously proud of her little house, perhaps 'third world' by western standards. My heart swelled to twice its normal size I am sure. My heart swelled at the thought of living with so little need for posession, so much joy brought purely by the people you surround yourself with.
The laughter of the children in the village, the joy on the women's faces, the shy teenagers desperate for a look at Western culture. The men of the village had retired to the village hall for a Kava Ceremony, to which we were invited. From a single glance this village looked so proud and happy, so comfortable and loving, a place where you would be passed from one mother to another as a baby, and cared for by the whole village as an elder. I have no doubts that some aspects of their lifestyle may be slightly 'unsavoury' but heading back to the resort I had a great desire to jump off the bus, head back to the village and stay there. Coming home it was hard not to think about throwing out all of my possessions. It was hard not to feel guilty about the amount of 'stuff' I owned, my insane desire for more, when there is really no need for it. I know it is cultural, I know I'm not to blame for want want want, but to live with so little, and so little need for more, would be so satisfying. To think of our ecological footprint is amazing, how easily it could be changed.
Perhaps our trip is about more than adventure, more than a year off, more than wanting to see another way of life. Perhaps it will also be a cleansing experience, a chance to start from scratch when we return, with the knowledge that anything we acquire has the potential to follow us to our death bed. And on our death bed what will we want? Very little, I anticipate, apart from each other.
Saturday 14 May 2011
From the Eifell Tower to Rio De Janeiro
Once again, I am living for the future rather than for now. That isn't to say I'm not enjoying and making the most out of 'now', I am having the time of my life. But I'm living for, planning for, imagining and heading towards 2012 with as many thoughts as I will allow myself. This seems to be a re-occuring theme within my life... when I've finished school I will... when I've finished uni I will... next year I will...when we get married we will... after we go travelling we will...
2012 will be a year of exploration, a time for James & I to have some amazing experiences and adventures, and an opportunity to shape our world view into something slightly broader, before we bring a little James or Brenna into the world.
We are already proving more indecisive about 2012 than we were about getting married. Our list of plans and ideas for our wedding changed with the wind. We had as many plans than there were weeks in the year, and only finally settled on what we would do a few months before the date we had set. And 2012 is looking the same.
Today I am imagining sleeping in the shadow of Jesus in Rio De Janeiro, playing in the Valley of the Moon in Argentina, walking in the footsteps of Gods along the Inka Trail to Machu Picchu in Peru, dancing all night at a Carnival in Brazil and learning Spanish in a Favela, cooling off at the beaches of Vena Del Mar in Chile and eating my way through tortiallas and salsa and guacamoli from the North to the South of South America.
Last week it was Helpx-ing our way through Europe, with some touristy items in between, before that it was a year in Scottland, soaking up James' family history, occasionally with the thought of just staying home and having a baby instead, or buying a camper van and travelling Australia, a while back our plan was to live somewhere in Asia for a year.
Talking to a very wise past colleague has taken us on the trail to South America. As from her advice, Europe is very familiar, the places you go to are places you have seen on television or read about in books, the people you meet and the lifestyles are not so dramatically different to Australia to be life changing. It is no less amazing, yet South America or India or Africa may open your eyes slightly more to the realities and the differences of life. This excites me.
2012 will be a year of exploration, a time for James & I to have some amazing experiences and adventures, and an opportunity to shape our world view into something slightly broader, before we bring a little James or Brenna into the world.
We are already proving more indecisive about 2012 than we were about getting married. Our list of plans and ideas for our wedding changed with the wind. We had as many plans than there were weeks in the year, and only finally settled on what we would do a few months before the date we had set. And 2012 is looking the same.
Today I am imagining sleeping in the shadow of Jesus in Rio De Janeiro, playing in the Valley of the Moon in Argentina, walking in the footsteps of Gods along the Inka Trail to Machu Picchu in Peru, dancing all night at a Carnival in Brazil and learning Spanish in a Favela, cooling off at the beaches of Vena Del Mar in Chile and eating my way through tortiallas and salsa and guacamoli from the North to the South of South America.
Last week it was Helpx-ing our way through Europe, with some touristy items in between, before that it was a year in Scottland, soaking up James' family history, occasionally with the thought of just staying home and having a baby instead, or buying a camper van and travelling Australia, a while back our plan was to live somewhere in Asia for a year.
Talking to a very wise past colleague has taken us on the trail to South America. As from her advice, Europe is very familiar, the places you go to are places you have seen on television or read about in books, the people you meet and the lifestyles are not so dramatically different to Australia to be life changing. It is no less amazing, yet South America or India or Africa may open your eyes slightly more to the realities and the differences of life. This excites me.
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