Friday, June 1, 2012

Reflections on Oceania

And here we are at the close of another chapter of my trip story, where I shall take the opportunity to think about my time in Oceania and postulate theories about myself and that place in a ponderous way that will surely be uninteresting to anyone but myself, so feel free to skip this entry if you so choose. Precious few direct plot points will come up, I assure you.

I left Oceania feeling that I had had a nearly perfect first trip to New Zealand. I had seen so much of it, met such wonderful people (locals and travelers alike), and encountered such perfect weather so much of the time, all at my own pace with the freedom of my own transport and with an ideal travel companion at my side, that I know I wouldn't feel regretful should I never get to return. I would still like to return one day to visit friends and see the parts of the country I haven't seen, but if for some reason I can't, I am certainly satisfied with my time there.

I left feeling quite differently about Australia. I greatly enjoyed my time there and felt that I had covered Sydney, Byron Bay, and Fraser Island quite thoroughly. But my time in the country as a whole was so very brief and allowed me to see so little. Yet the extreme costs of living and traveling there made a longer stay untenable. I think I should like to return a bit more flush and with a friend or partner in order to really do it right. Also, I would certainly CouchSurf there again, but I don't think I would stay in hostels. I would prefer, I think, to stay in guesthouses, B&B's, or other budget accommodations catering to older or at least not such very young travelers. Living and working in Sydney for a time and traveling around on long weekends or holidays could certainly be a viable option, but regardless, a substantial amount of time and money is necessary to really see Australia at large.

Also, aside from the financial aspect, traveling in Australia is too easy! Having traveled in South America, I think that I still craved a bit more of a challenge, a starker cultural contrast, and a language barrier. My stop in LA and my five weeks in New Zealand had provided a welcome return to the creature comforts of truly modern, English-speaking countries, but driving and trekking around New Zealand had provided its own challenges and adventures, and, by the time I left, I felt ready to rough it again. I was also ready to return to a McDonald's-free existence.

On each and every one of our journeys, Franca and I made an obligatory stop at the Golden Arches. See, one of the only places in all of New Zealand where internet comes free with a purchase is MickeyD's, so Franca and I had become regular customers. We would Skype our families when the signal was strong enough, do CouchSurfing searches and make arrangements with our hosts, look for dorms on HostelBookers, check out excursions through TripAdvisor, and take care of odds and ends like our banking. And all of this with the torturously intoxicating aroma of french fries in the air. I probably hadn't entered a McDonald's in twelve years prior to setting foot in Kiwi-land and felt rather proud of this fact. But I hate to admit: their ice cream cones and McCafe hot chocolate and muffins are pretty damn tasty.

Still, I preferred my former state of fast food abstinence. If for no other reason than I had gained a good 10-15 pounds while in Oceania. I had surely gained a small bit in South America, but constantly stopping for fast food and driving around in a car stocked up with snacks from supermarket runs had taken its toll to a far great extent. In fact our stops at supermarkets and gas stations-- where we used coupons obtained FROM our supermarket shopping trips-- hold a large place in my memories of my trip. We couldn't afford to eat out, so we always cooked! But it was the snacks that killed me. Eating peanut butter out of the jar with a spoon and cutting pieces of cheese off the block as we drove. And we drove everywhere! So even with our trekking, we weren't getting as much exercise as I had in SA. No wonder I had started forming cellulite!

Which leads me to another realization, which I am still struggling with now, two months into my travels in Asia: I talk about this stuff far too much. I must have many more insecurities than I'd known because I find myself discussing my weight at regular intervals. I can't say why it comes up so often. Here, I often end up defending a healthy meal selection or my yoga practice to other travelers, as if it's anyone else's business what I eat or whether or not I want to work out. But both can be greeted with perplexity or ridicule, particularly now that I have lost most of the weight I had gained. "Jesus, you're already skinny. Why are you thinking about this while you're traveling?" This inevitably leads to me explaining how much weight I
had gained at my heaviest point in the trip, how I can feel pretty much any extra pounds putting strain on the herniated discs in my back, and how weight gain no longer seems to mean just fat now that I've hit my thirties, but cellulite too, which is far less attractive and far harder, if not impossible, to get rid of.

And why do I end up defending myself in such detail? I don't know. Why do I talk about ANYTHING in such detail? I just do. It is my compulsion and my curse. Do I know that a woman talking about her weight is annoying and unattractive? Of course I do! And it's something I never or rarely did prior to living in New York, which gives some insight into the root of the problem, i.e. in such an appearance-concerned city. I've also noticed my disturbing tendency to repeat compliments that have been given to me, particularly to guys I like. Ugh! How vile. I've always felt that a confident person has no need of mentioning their good points, their achievements, or what others say of them because security and true self-confidence are self-evident and need no embellishment or advertisement. Well, physician, heal thyself.

I used to think that I didn't care what other people think about me. I know now that that isn't true. I just care what SOME people think. And I probably care a bit too much. Ironically, this makes me talk about all those things a confident person doesn't need to talk about when I am in the company of those people upon whom I would like to make a good impression, achieving quite the opposite effect. And so, I make this mid-year's resolution, avowed on June 2nd, 2012: "I will stop making an ass out of myself by discussing my physical appearance and regurgitating compliments."

Will I stop making an ass out of myself completely? Surely not. Would that I could. But I have as large a propensity for foolish behavior and bad judgement as anyone and surely a larger ego, less graceful feet, and a greater tendency to put my foot in my own mouth, leading, undoubtably, to even more humiliations, pratfalls and misunderstandings than most people endure. But most prove valuable, if humbling, life lessons and nearly all provide comic relief, so at least there's that.

So why isn't there more comedy in this blog then? Well, for two reasons I suppose. The first is the sad fact that I am just not that funny. While in Indonesia, I read Tina Fey's "Bossy Pants" and nearly bubbled over with envy of her wry brilliance. I don't think such a thing can be taught. Improved upon, yes, but taught? No. A truly keen eye for the absurdities of life is a gift
and the ability to dissect them in comic form, a born talent. Some people-- my friends Zhubin Parang and Julie Sharbutt among them-- have it; some people don't. And sadly, I find myself in the latter group.

Besides which, some things I just can't talk about here. I have no problem laying myself open, but I choose not to discuss other people's personal business on here (even when it overlaps with my own) or say anything that might tarnish the reputation of or cause a problem for any of the people I meet on the traveler trail, should the wrong person read this. Is such a thing unlikely? Probably. But in this day and age of information exchange, you never know. And let's admit, most truly funny episodes come out of something at least one person would be embarrassed about.

And the last thing I would want is to embarrass any of the friends or acquaintances I have met on this trip because overwhelmingly, everyone has been incredible to me. I really can't say enough about the overwhelming open-heartedness and generosity of most travelers. A girl I barely knew gave me all the warm clothes I needed to make it through the unusually chilly New Zealand summer. A random guy in the hostel in Queenstown saved me fourteen bucks by giving me his "Lonely Planet Australia". In Indonesia, a guy gave me a guidebook AND his travel phone. When I lost yet another eye mask, one of my roommates just happened to have received an unwanted free one from their last flight. I CouchSurfed literally half of my time in Oceania! All thanks to the hospitality of fellow travelers.

Not to say that I've liked everyone I've met or liked everything about those I liked in general. And sometimes I just want to be alone. I never really thought about it before, but I am a bit of a loner, in truth. I don't always like going out, and sometimes I wish people wouldn't talk to me. I never voice this or ignore anyone because I've learned to be very very careful about what I wish for, and I could end up very lonely that way. But I do hit streaks where I enjoy myself most just sitting somewhere reading or writing, enjoying a meal and a glass of wine and the view totally isolated.

These times alone give me plenty of room to think, and I realized in Australia that I'm done pursuing music as a performer. I'll still sing, hopefully with a band somewhere, for my own enjoyment, and I'll still write songs. Maybe even sell some. But I think I'm done trying to make a career out of it. I worked hard at it. Maybe not hard enough, but hard. I loved it. Maybe not enough either. And I think I'd started to lose some of that love. And maybe I just wasn't good enough. Who knows? I really think that I might just be true jack of all trades, master of none, and I'm coming to enjoy and appreciate that. I could be happy doing lots of things, not just music. And that's probably why I didn't succeed in it.

Anyway, hat was one of two decisions I've come to. The other is that I need to live somewhere that is warm most of the time. I am just happier that way. I like the seasons, don't get me wrong, but a little cold goes a long way. And everything is better when the sun's out.

And so a few closing notes and lessons from my travels in Oceania: 1) Roundabouts are far superior to traffic lights, save at gridded city intersections. They require no electricity, and they lead to far fewer accidents and traffic jams. America needs to get on board. 2) If ever you feel lost in New Zealand, simply look at what's around you. What's the name of the road you're on or the creek you just crossed? Because there's about a 90% chance that that's the name of the town you're in. Seriously. 3) I don't know how I left without taking a picture of the purple flowers that carpet NZ. They were everywhere, and I miss them. 4) Unlike in America, where there are many accents and in Britain, where there are innumerably, in Australia, there is really only one accent with varying degrees of thickness. These range from "Very Australian" in the middle (read: Sydney and most of the East Coast) to "Very, Very Australian" at one extreme (read: Darwin and the outback) to something barely discernible from upperclass London at the other And finally, 5) That furry brown fruit you eat with the green inside? That is a kiwifruit, not a kiwi. Remember that, should you ever travel to NZ.

Books read: Clash of Kings, The Time Traveler's Wife,
Articles lost: not much! or at least not much that I can remember!

On to Asia!!

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Location:Darwin, Australia

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