something inside me
wakes when I’m alone.
tugs me across oceans
to lands unknown.
I feel the pressure
the pull in my bones.
to find my home.
Okay, so this is going to be a lot less eloquent and insightful than my last post was, so just bear with me and eventually I’ll post something intelligent again.
Currently I’m sitting in my first uni lecture of a course I’m actually attending (I’ve crashed a mate’s course before) and everyone is on a ten minute break. So obviously, I’m blogging.
So far so good in uni, except for the fact I just embarrassed myself in front of my entire lecture by being called up to do something I’ve actually got no clue how to do. Everyone laughed (me included) as I ran away back to my seat. I could be well on my way to establishing myself as the class clown already. Great!
Anyway, my lecturer is chatting about the Nazi’s (wait, this is a film class right??) so I better sign off and figure out why the heck Hitler is being mentioned.
SO if you know me at all, you’ll know that I am consistently getting into tiffs with friends, normally because I have a really strong differing opinion, or I’ve done something they consider to be inappropriate in the scheme of our friendship. I often end up minus friends for one real or imagined wrongdoing and it was common enough during my high school years that I learned to just let it all go and accept I was not built for girl friendships in this life.
But lately, it seems like all those “ex-besties” have come back and want to kiss and make up. They wanna be back how we used to be, they miss the good times, they regret what they said, etc. Which brings me to my real topic: regret. As I’m addicted to blogging, I got a message on one of my other blogs from someone asking me if I regret anything. This was my short answer:
“I try not to really because living with regret seems a bit pointless to me. You literally do only get to live once, so what’s the point of spending the whole time being like “omg I wish I had/hadn’t done this/that” and never actually enjoying yourself. We all do dumb stuff but it makes us who we are.”
The long answer is this:
Regret is a pointless emotion to harbour for more than an hour or two. You might regret doing something stupid or saying the wrong thing, but what is it going to do for you? Only make you miserable thinking about it because you can’t go back and change anything. You can’t take back that text, that last drink, that kiss. There’s no time machine, no winding back to just tweak something a tiny bit so it turns out how you wanted. And why is that? (I’m gonna get a bit spiritual here) It’s because everything you do makes you exactly who you are. Losing friends, gaining friends, the decisions you made for those events to happen, they all conspire to bring you to this very point in your life, they all turned you into this being, reading this post. And even if you hate yourself, personally I really enjoy myself and my life and think I’m doing just fine.
So I have no regrets, other than maybe not getting that cute guy’s number last night or not sleeping in for another half hour this morning. This is honestly as far as my regrets go. I don’t regret asserting my ownership over money I won that caused a suburb-wide friendship blowout, I don’t regret my current job or how it could affect my future, and I don’t regret kissing that not-so-cute guy last night. I think travel greatly contributed to my newfound appreciation of the phrase “YOLO” (You Only Live Once) because everything is a once in a lifetime chance, a once in a lifetime moment, because nothing will ever be the same ever again. There are no do-overs, only do’s.
I am writing this waaaaay before you’re seeing it (ah, the beauty of scheduled posts!) but this morning I started reading a friend’s book that is based in Iceland. There’s nothing pretty about it because it’s boring and financial based, but Iceland itself.. Another one of my long-loved places on Earth. But, from very lazy Googling and poking around, it seems pretty expensive, so it’s going to have to be one of those adult trips (adult as in old, not dirty!) that I save up for. Darn.
I found this blog a while back and while I’m not sure if it’s still running/posting, I think it’s a super cute blog – about Iceland obviously. Well… actually, it’s set up from Iceland’s point of view. “Hello I am Iceland” is apparently how you instantly suck me into following.
Okay so I’ve seen a salt lake/desert or two in my time (who knew we had them in the Aussie outback?) but this one is definitely the coolest. Hence why it gets on the list.
This one is locatedin the Cordoba and Santiago del Estero provinces of the Sierras de Cordoba in Argentina. Apparently it’s a decent drive (90 kms) to get here, but they use this desert to harvest salt and potassium, which is why there’s the long mini-river out here. So, not only does it look super cool, it’s useful too.
Now, this one I can blame completely on Dean. And I do with no shame. I remember a time when he would just continually send me links to these beautiful images of the French Alps – probably some other Alps too, but I can’t remember exactly. Anyway, he showed me and ever since then when I come across a photo of them I get all “ahhhh” and breathy and dream about exploring, or at least driving, through this awesome place. This photo is one that makes me particularly keen to become a mountain hiker. I think it’s all the green.
Imagine if it was possible to roll down one of these and not gain crazy speeds and end up dead? That’d be so nice.
Okay so Oregon has always been a pretty big thing with me since that time I decided to set one of my many lame stories there. Before you peg me as a Stepehenie Meyer wannabe, it wasn’t for the cloudiness, okay? There was a cave and a town with painted bears everywhere and that’s what drew me in – like it’s really any better. The town is Grants Pass, if you’re wondering. Pretty rad place from what I researched. But the coast is beautiful, the woods are beautiful. This place is basically a dream come true for me, with the whole “untamed wilderness” thing going on that really attracts my greenie side.
Price: $3 AUD per night for a 4 bed dorm
Location: 2 minute motorbike ride from Lat Krabang station.
Staff: Barely talked, but did offer me some foul Swedish licorice.
Sleeping: Average. I failed to get a good night’s sleep the whole time I was here.
Facilities: Only saw one shower/toilet when I was there, and the shower was freeeezing!
Laundry: Not offered.
Internet: Free wifi available.
Backpackers Airport Lounge & Hostel was the last place I laid my head in Thailand – because saying it’s located in Bangkok isn’t exactly accurate – and I left with pretty average feelings about the place.
Right so, I’ve no clue what this place is called. But it goes on the wishlist ANYWAY because I LIKE A CHALLENGE. And frankly, scouring the Internet for hours when I decide it’s time to find out* is what I consider a respectable use of my time. The Internet is like, totally zero calories, omg you guuuuuys!
ANYWAY. Just look at this photo and tell me it isn’t the coolest looking cliff you’ve ever seen.
But hey, if you’ve seen this place somewhere or happen to know what it is,pleaselet me know! Because scouring the Internet for hours when you’re reading this and you know, that isnota respectable use of my time.
* I’ve postponed the finding-out date because the only idea I had right now was to Google “sqaure cliff” and all that brought up was this dude.
So this one is coming a little late, because by now it’s been about two weeks since my birthday, oops. But it’s finally happens, I am officially an adult. Hoorah!
Instead of having just my birthday in Bangkok, I decided to be just a little more self-absorbed and treated myself to a birthday week. If you’re not familiar with the term ‘birthday week’ it’s really just an excuse for people with far too much money to celebrate for the week leading up to the big day. Now obviously I am not someone with far too much money, unless I’m in Bangkok, where I become stupidly rich – in my eyes anyway. So let me tell y’all what I got up to.
I could’ve started my week on a Monday because my birthday this year fell on a Sunday, but seven days of myself would’ve maybe driven me mad, so instead I settled for five and began my week on the 20th. On the first day I was moving hostels, so to cheer myself up I went and got my nose pierced, the same thing I did for my birthday last year. Hopefully this now-yearly birthday ‘tradition’ doesn’t continue into 2013, because it hurt like hell this time. Worse than my tattoo! I maybe even cried a little. Maybe. Luckily, I cheered myself up with a fake plum Casio watch, and a real plum Revlon lipstick. I swear, lipstick soothes all my wounds.
On the 21st, I bought the only dress on the street I’d seen that would fit me, and then bought a new handbag to go with it. Hopefully this bag fares better than my last one from SE Asia, which I fell in love with, and in return, it fell apart. *tear*
The 22nd is actually a mystery to me (I should keep a diary) other than what I did for dinner, which was treat myself to the first, last and only real restaurant meal I had during my stay in Bangkok. I went to Himali Cha Cha & Son, a lovely little Indian place where I stuffed my face with palak paneer and garlic naan. Good, expensive times.
When I woke up the next day, I was resolved to go and rewatch 007: Skyfall at the Lido, but alas, when I finally got there only Breaking Dawn: Part II was showing. Not being one to turn down a movie experience, and needing to see how it all ended, I went and saw it. It actually wasn’t that bad, the slightly cringeworthy moments aside. Returning from that outing to the New Road Guesthouse, the gang there announced they were all headed to the Sky Bar, so I tagged along to admire Bangkok from great heights. This is actually an outing I would recommend to you if you visit the city.
If you’re unaware, the Sky Bar is located on the 64th floor of the Sky Tower. This probably sounds super unfamiliar, but if you’ve seen The Hangover II and remember the rooftop confrontation scene, then you’ve seen the Sky Bar in all it’s glory, as it was filmed here. They’re still serving the “Hangovertini” – a specially created cocktail for the cast and crew of the movie – and will probably keep serving it for the next ten years. Whilst I was up there, my birthday ‘treat’ was the most expensive mojito of my life. Excuse me, but fuck VAT and service tax.
On my birthday eve, the 24th, I played leader in an outing with three Dutch girls to the Chatuchak weekend markets, another outing I’d recommend if Bangkok is your destination. All I bought there was a hairband and some of my beloved smoked chicken which is so good. That night I dragged my new Dutch friend, Florine, to see Cloud Atlas. I’d been obsessing over this movie for about two weeks since first seeing the trailer – which I’ve nicely placed below for your viewing pleasure.
Even though we both left a little dazed and confused, it was a beautifully made movie which I would recommend to anyone who is capable of following multiple storylines. But perhaps read the book first.
Returning home from the cinema, we watched the clock tick over to the 25th, Florine brought me a beer and sang Happy Birthday and then we crashed out in bed.
Finally at the big day itself, I woke up at 6 am and wandered off to Mcdonalds in the rain for the best hashbrowns ever, and when I returned to the guesthouse and awoke after a nap, Florine fed me pancakes and tea and we set off on the boat towards Khao San Road. When we got there we headed off to the “massage garden” that Mark recommended to me, and left about two hours later feeling quite refreshed after our massages in little tents. Following this, I watched proudly as Florine bartered down the prices of some cute dresses for us both, and then we triumphantly took a tuk tuk home, with some obligatory tailor stops along the way. My birthday adventure would’ve ended there, if not for the taxi driver I encountered at the airport on the way to my next hostel.
After driving around for about an hour without the meter on, looking for Airport Backpackers Lounge, we finally found the place and the time came to haggle the price down to something reasonable. Imagine my surprise when instead, the taxi driver offered to take me to dinner. I agreed, and he drove me to Banglamphu, and we ate the best fish soup ever in a little street restaurant. Then he drove me all the way back to my hostel – not without some awkward attempts at handholding and me squeaking “Have boyfriend!!” – and let me out without paying for anything. Oh, and he even gave me a hat as my “present, present” for the day. Such a lovely guy, who really gave the day a great (and slightly hilarious) ending.
All in all, I think that this week and my birthday were perhaps the best so far. And now that I’m an adult, I can happily stop ageing and and never celebrate getting older ever again. But hey, if someone wants to give me some ice cream cake when I get home, I wouldn’t be totally adverse to it.