I walked one foot in front of the other,
walking, exploring as I always do. Then
the air was different. It was cooler, fresher,
but it was more than that. With each
breath there was a feeling. It was like
the feeling you get when a friend embraces you, or when you raise your head out
of the ocean after that first dive in. The
feeling of when your dad gives you a cheeky grin of a joke only you know, or
when you see a familiar face in a crowd of strangers. As I walked from the city into the depths of
the forest the trees towered above me, the ground became dense with fern and
moss, and the dappled light shone through the leaves. I listened, and to my surprise there was the
distinct sound of waves crashing on the shoreline. Although, it wasn’t waves, it was the wind in
the treetops. In that moment, in that
feeling, I knew I was home again.
So I though of ‘home’. What is home?
Where is it? Can you have more
than one? For some, home is where you
grew up, it’s a location, or a structure with a roof. Perhaps, it’s that feeling when you’re
absolutely besotted with the one you’re with.
No matter where you are, if that person is by your side then that’s all
you need. They become that warm and cozy
fireplace, that feeling of content and protection, they are your release that
you can be completely yourself as if walking through the front door. Like Edward Sharp sings, “home is whenever
I’m with you”. Home is not a feeling of
pure familiarity or attachment, but a feeling from deep within. When you get that feeling, you just know when
you’re home. For me, Australia is too
far away, it will always be home but I can’t take it with me. I used to have that ‘love home’ but then it
felt like it was burnt to the ground, a rainstorm soaked the ashes, and then maybe
a cyclone come through to knocked down any remaining structure. I’ve tried to build other ‘love homes’ but
maybe they were made of feathers or sticks and the big bad wolf found it
laughable. I need a home that I can go
to wherever I am in this world, and on that forest walk I realized. Mother Nature she stole my heart.
I wanted to come to America to be within
nature. I’m not sure why of all places I
chose America. I don’t even know exactly
what I expected to see or do, I just knew that’s where I was going. The thing I love most about nature is the
intricacies, the pure beauty, and the feeling of being so small, man so
incomparable to anything nature has to offer.
On my journey I met chipmunks, prairie dogs, elk and deer as I climbed
to the top of Rocky Mountains. I drove
along winding autumn mountain roads that looked like leprechauns and elves had
been dancing through the trees, carelessly throwing their gold faery treasure
all over the mountainside. I could
imagine they put their best golden treasures on display before packing them up
for the winter. I hiked through dense
forest where my favorite colour of green was as far as the eye could see. I stood at the base of great waterfalls with
the mist and forest air rushing over my face.
I soaked in natural hot springs, and reconnected to my spiritual self at
a hippy commune. In the depths of the
forest the yellow leaves on the black branches looked like faeries glowing
suspended midflight. At days end of
exploring the giant redwood forests I was shaking from adrenaline, my mind
trying to comprehend the indescribable beauty my eyes had seen. I was seeking nature, and Mother Nature
welcomed me with a huge soul hug.
I followed the ridiculously winding road
through the last of the forest to be spat out on the west coast highway 1. After months away from the ocean, I’d finally
made it back to the Pacific. I dreamed
of blue water and sunny days driving the California coast. Instead, cold and fog and a dark ocean thick
with kelp greeted me. The coastline was
a rugged beauty, but it appeared to be trying to imitate the Great Ocean Road and
didn’t quite have the finishing touch.
It was like seeing the same dress worn on lady California, but it didn’t
hug the right curves, the hem didn’t float as freely, and her style just didn’t
do it justice unlike lady Australia.
After being away from the water for so long I thought I would be eager
to dive in but it just didn’t seem enticing.
If there are seals in there I know it’s going to be freezing. I guess it can be hard to please an
Australian when it comes a coastline. My
first night on the coast I thought I would sleep in the car just like I would
back home. Except here it was a hire
car, no cosy van set up. It was also a
foreign land that grew darker and scarier to sleep in the middle of know where
on my own. Ignoring the slight fear in
my gut I curled up on the hard floor of the boot of the station wagon sharing
the space with my backpack, as this was the only place I could lie flat. I put layer upon layer of clothes, jackets,
tights, socks, beanie and gloves and the remaining clothes I attempted to use
for padding. I had one pillow and a
light blanket I “borrowed” from a hotel spare cupboard I stayed in the night
before. In the middle of the night I
woke to poring rain, horrible pain in my hip from laying on my side but no room
to lay on my back, and I was absolutely freezing. I folded the blanket into a small square so
there were more layers and curled up into a tighter ball. There was no other way I could get any
warmer. The next night I found the
cutest BnB fit for a queen with heating and didn’t want to leave the room.
In between the forest and coast I visited adorable
towns and cities. I experienced the
culture with a little of the east, to the centre, to the west. The west being my favorite, where there is a
clear air of creativity. Unknowingly, I
chose to visit all the states where marijuana is legal. Along the way I was welcomed into the homes of
friends of friends with amazing generosity. I often found myself giggling as I’d hear
accents or phrases I’ve only heard in movies. As a
Dietitian I frustratingly now understand why America makes my job so hard. As I roamed the streets I met some lovely
people and crazy ones! I was often in
conversation with people on the street whether I was listening or not. I found if they wanted to know something,
they would ask despite common social barriers.
I felt like everyone had an opinion they were trying to depict. Whether it was expressed in conversation, or
blatant yelling on the street, signs, or fashion. The public transport was also an
experience. There were loud
conversations, people talk to whoever is next to them, the bus driver even gets
involved yelling down to the back of the bus, sometimes the whole bus is
involved in one big discussion. Coming
from London where you could hear a pin drop on the tube and everyone is
politely in their own bubble, this was quite the contrast. The novelty wore off though and I was often
wishing I could hear my own thoughts again and if I had an opinion I would
happily keep it to myself. In saying
that, there were a lot of good things about being in such an environment. I could tell they thrive for
information. They want to learn from
each other. I could spend whole days in
the book stores as the range of literature was astounding, including a wide
selection of faery books. I had some
really interesting conversations and found them to be very open and
generous. I can see why as a nation they
do so well at acting and writing, because they can tell a good story and
they’re not shy. I could feel the
ambition on the street, particularly in New York. There is a distinct feeling that you dream
big. Unfortunately, I could imagine
perhaps a lot of the homeless might have been some of those big dreamers and
lost it all. America has a huge
influence on the world and with that comes the internal influence for free
thinking, ambition, and opinions. Unfortunately, despite a willingness to learn
I found there are only small minorities that actually experience and travel
outside the American bubble. It’s a
grand and interesting place I actually didn’t intent to spend much time, but
for it to have such an impact on the world how could you not get drawn in to
see what it’s all about.
