Journal Scraps: Port Stephens…

Where: Port Stephens (or there abouts), Australia
Part of the UltimateOz intro week, at base camp –
Worth checking out if you’re planning a trip to Australia, awesome group leaders, fun activities and a great way to meet people. 

We walk down the footpath in the darkness for the first time, barefoot on rural earth, cider in hand, slight stumbles and whispered slurs. As we step onto the warm sand there is a still silence as we take it in, the constellations so clear above, alive in a way our city hooded eyes had never seen, in the distance the waves leap onto the shore in a serene melody and the air around stirs clean and calm.

A bunch of backpackers from cities around the world are brought together in this moment to admire a nature so lost and so unfairly alien that we are all connected in our awe, our desire to reconcile with mother earth and her secrets, secrets like this one.

To be away from the place we’ve come from, to be there in the moment on a high from natural bliss, to be something more than our physical boulders, cementing us down in our man made chaos. And I talk to them in clusters around the beach, listen in on conversation, lose lips tangle up truths. shakey minds let tidbits slip through the gaps. We’re all at our most vulnerable and filled up with emotion. Some people are there for adventure, for stories to write home about. Others are seeking a new life, a chance for a fresh start, experience to still their panicked minds.

Then there are us , the youthful, the reckless, the ones blind to expectant reality, wanderers with uncertain fates. But we’re all united here on a desolate beach, in Port Stephens, Australia, looking up at the same star filled sky, seeing all varying possibilities in their illuminations, all comforted and terrified simultaneously by what is and what will be and what could be.


Doing Brunch in Darlinghurst…


It’s not all vegan sadly but they make a darn good go at it. I’ve tried my fair share of fake croissants, all of which have left me a tad disheartened, but this one was scrummy and didn’t taste like “special” food. The jam was super too, very sweet. My travel buddies are not vegan (though thankfully they are open minded) and were able to choose from a few diary and even meat rich options (these options are paleo too if thats your kinda vibe). There was a lot of egg and green stuff on their plates and nothing but crumbs by the end of the meal. Everything on the menu looked to be flavoursome and full of healthiness, with big bowls of salad stuffs and a pretty hefty selection of smoothies. My smoothie was like a chocolate desserty paradise with cocoa, banana, dates, coconut milk and chia seeds but there were fruity ones too as well as some quirky speciality coffees (which I sadly did not get to try) one of which included coconut ice cream. Overall it was a well needed break from asking for salads with no cheese, meat or dressing. I’d love to go again and try some falafel and vegan ice cream.

Ooo and there may have been a raw bounty bite for afters too, rich dark chocolate covered, sweet coconut bliss. Mmmmmmm…

Journal Scraps: It’s about the journey…


I sit crossed legged, half dazed, in Changi airport, Singapore. My head aches faintly whether because of lack of sleep or lack of caffeine I’m unsure but the feeling leaves my brain tender, thoughts hazy. The sun is rising as I sit, though I haven’t experienced night yet. It was morning when I left London and then there was a timeless void somewhere inbetween here and there, up in the heavens where humans haven’t had their meticulous measuring ways just yet. But now dawn is breaking again and its already tomorrow and I’ve travelled through time, this last fact has me in a stupor, eyes squinting, subdued by the magic of it all. Time travel, wow. And though I left my teary eyed parents behind and felt homesick somewhere around breakfast time (which was actually dinner in the sky where we were living in tomorrow) on the plane I’m yet to allow the panic to hit.

My viens thrum, heart beats a little quicker, letting me know that somewhere the anxiety is creeping, though not about the flight or the prospect of living on the other side of the globe but instead about the people I have yet to meet. But it’s okay because the thrill of adventure is thrumming deliciously through my veins and the line between my reality and hearty imaginings is blurring for the first time in my life and despite the distant jibes from my killjoy subconscious, about lowering my expectations and not getting carried away, my domineering gypsy soul is finally in control and she is the most liberated she’s ever felt.

I can feel myself becoming someone else but that’s comforting because this new person, she smiles at me with reckless promises and embraces me unconditionally as we meet. This is it, finally, I’m living.

G’day Australia…

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I’d always planned on making my next blogging debut whilst I was on my travels however I’ve spent the majority of the past couple weeks too overwhelmed by the magic that is my life to stop and really document it. Never have I been one to live in the moment, I’m a sentimentalist and I appreciate scraps and images to remember my best days by. But when you’re surrounded by sites and landmarks you’ve only ever seen in pictures or movies, only ever contemplated as an unrealistic dream, there isn’t time to waste. No time to pick up your camera and experience it at a distance yet again, no time to miss out on socialising on the beach at night to jot down everything in your travel journal. So many of the travellers I’ve come across so far have taken a chilled afternoon on their busy itinerary to scribble down haphazard notes from weeks gone by. But I need to make an effort because all of this living is going to inspire, console and have me smiling in reminiscent bliss when I’m at my worst in the future.

So yeah I’m in Australia! and it is every bit as warm and sunny as I imagined. The harbour, the bridge, the botanical gardens, the art gallery, the beaches experiencing all of this has seemed like a hazy trance so far. I look back over the past couple weeks in awe because I’ve done more exciting things in those weeks than I did in the whole of last year, maybe even the whole of the last three years. I’m hoping to use this as a platform to share all of my future experiences, travelling and then hopefully living and working over here. If I can inspire just one other lost soul to take the leap and hop on the next possible flight I’d be over the moon.

What keeps me awake at night?

Sometimes I’ll be laying in bed trying my hardest to drift off to sleep but I’ll be held captive in the waking world by troublesome butterflies dancing in my tummy. This is the time when I’ll think of the world in scale to tiny insignificant me, alive and bustling in every corner. Right now it’s 1:36 am UK time but it’s not time for sleeping everywhere and I shiver at thought of how much I’m missing out on. How many writers are typing at keyboards and scratching with pens, full focus on projects so far from finished, giving up sleep to work on a masterpiece that will never be read, or understood, or given the prize it’s effort deserves? How many road trips are in full flow, a rickety truck on desert roads, classic rock blaring, sun radiating a soulful energy only accessible miles from expecting civilisation? And how many are surfing through candy floss clouds, lost in unsettled, frustrated, expecting excitements, a specific sub category of the emotion only evoked on a plane ride to some raw, unexplored destination? How many lovers are reunited, families laughing around tables, kids opening surprises? How many bodies on beaches, splitting through waves, manning boats and jumping off of cliffs? And not to mention the drunk dancers, bedroom ravers, gig goers buzzing, melodies conducted, underground poetry, paintings evolving, artists inspired? Then under all the obvious, how many smiles at strangers? Hugs? all of the hugs! And perhaps the most envious of all, how many settled minds lost in blissful slumber? And all of this from other insignificant me’s just trying to find some living amongst all of this fear and terror. And it’s funny that these thoughts of strangers keep me awake wanting, impatient, invigorated, wishing but mostly they keep me awake in awe that we as humans manage any semblance of happiness when our world is torn apart and the only news is bad news. Funny to be kept from sleeping by positive energy. And it’s in these midnight imaginings of people and places unknown that keep me sane, keep me hoping and reaching and living.

The myth of oneness: a personal struggle…

When I was eleven and starting high school I went through a crisis of being. Who was I? Where was I going? Why wasn’t I more like my fictional heroines? When would I find me and my path? Back then there was no spirituality to it, no battle of right and wrong, no desperately seeking out my passion and purpose, it was just about fitting in. Now these bouts of uncertainty are still as frequent, only they’re less easy to blame on growing up and growing into your skin. Why is ego so all consuming? There is, in some part of me tucked away deep inside, an acknowledgment of unity, of the individual not mattering as an individual. There are days when I feel like I’m floating through life, when everything is in place and not dependant on careers, personal expression and appearance. Everything about me up to this point are pieces of other people, friends, people I see for a second in a coffee shop, fictional characters and celebrities I admire. I’m a mimic, a fraud, nothing is concrete or real. Fake layers to cover up that eleven year old girl still inside me shouting out to be found. It’s probably some vague borderline personality disorder, but it’s nothing a councillor could pin point and nothing anyone I’ve confided in could understand. This is the most honest I think I’ve ever been and thats so important to a girl with a history of compulsive lying and vague acceptance of self. Maybe I’m going to get better as I grow but for now I’m stuck obsessing over people, the psyche, what my zodiac says about me, what my Jungian personality type is. Clutching at straws to get an idea of individuality.

So now I’m fleeing to the other side of the world. Honestly? I think it’s some feeble attempt to make something of my life. That old cliche of travelling to “find yourself” and the sun of course, that helps too. In all of this mess, this vortex of scattered thoughts and nonsensical slips of philosophical evaluation I’ve found solace in writing, in drawing, in music. This blog has never been one thing or another, looking back it doesn’t really seem like me at all. And no maybe the internet isn’t the place to divulge our deepest darkest secrets or a secure foundation to start piecing together your identity when you’re easily influenced. But I have passions and ideas and notebooks full of amateur writing and though I’m not the most intellectual, the most coherent or talented I’m not asking for praise here, I’m asking for understanding. To connect with anyone is an accomplishment and I’m hoping this is the start.