Born to Depart

Three days, two dinners, one meeting and half a day’s work stand between an airplane and I. This is an intolerable amount of time considering how desperately I’ve been longing to get my feet off the ground. It’s been seven months since I’ve been thrown into travelers abstinence, grounding myself for the sake of education. I’ve endured the withdrawals of an ex-wanderer, pacing in circles to compensate for how stationary life has been.

So I’ve strapped myself down to the circumference of an island and thrashed under my own restraints until I've exhausted the need to take off. I’ve been depressed and hopeless and lonely, but I’ve recovered from my melancholy by drinking it down, throwing it up and hanging it over. It sounds like a reckless way to recover, but I’ve been optimistic and surprisingly sober for the better part of July. Cured, I say, or broken, I think.

What matters is that I’ll be in a terminal once again, moving through gates and metal detectors like a puppet flipping off its axis. I won’t even wear shoes that day 'cause I want to impress security with my obvious familiarity with their rules and regulations. Liquids? Drank, thank you, and recycled, you’re welcome. And I already know where all the emergency exits are located, naturally.

I’m hyper on reliving the feeling of leaving. I want to be a stranger and a brand newcomer and an explorer of a place I know little of. I want to leave this mound of sand to swish in the tides without me while I drink overly chlorinated water in the tourist hub of Orlando. I’ll get paid to reach high elevations, and being on the job will not bring me down.

There’s little use in recovery when, really, I was born to depart. 

73. Take a Self Defense Class

Ah yes, another completed goal straight down the hatch. Despite being half-way there with my 101 Goals in 1001 Days, the list itself is coming along strikingly. Last month I took a free self-defense class for women at Smith Tae Kwon Do Center in Kaneohe, and proceeded to learn what it takes to kick villain butt. In fact, I subsequently wrote an article for The Kapi'o that may help to defend your honor if you so choose to take on the responsibility.

Needless to say, the class was wonderfully educational. Having the knowledge and the practice of defending myself against an attacker has made me feel substantially more safe when I'm alone. I have since purchased a vial of pepper spray, which I whip out with enthusiasm once the sun sets. Sometimes I go through the steps of defense in my head, prepared at all times to do what it takes to ensure that I am never a victim.

Read the article, take the class, defend your honor. Goal #73, you're so history.

The woes of ex-ex-patriotism

My life has become significantly less interesting since I’ve become an ex-expat. I try to supplement my blog with little excursions that I do around the island, but going to Ala Moana Beach Park for a BBQ just isn’t the same as going to Venice for the weekend. Remember when I got lost by myself in Paris where I later learned the fundamentals of travel the hard way? Well, I recently got lost while looking for Friday-night parking in downtown Honolulu and only walked away with the steadfast conviction that one-way roads should be outlawed. The later doesn’t quite have the same appeal.

But I refuse to settle into the belief that home has to be synonymous with boring. I am extraordinarily fortunate to call this tropical island my place of residence. People frequently travel to Hawaii and their experiences are usually filled with exoticism, lush beaches and smoking hot local boys*, all of which are at my daily disposal! Do I have a desire to take advantage of it? Yes. Am I successful? Rarely, but that doesn’t stop me from trying.

So a little goal has birthed itself. You’ll be hearing from me in excess over the next week just so I can prove to you that a story can be found regardless of where you’re looking for it. In many cases, adventure is just disguised as something we’ve already seen before. Sometimes, all it takes are new eyes.

*By “smoking hot local boys,” I actually mean “underaged Asians.”

Chronological and Numerical Form

I know this is a severely inadequate representation of the past two weeks, but due to the fact that I had no electricity for the first week, and no internet for the better half of the second, I think it's safe to say that I'm allowed such a hasty post.

The general rundown in chronological and numerical form is as follows:

1. I packed my things and left Germany.
2. I moved to Italy and unpacked my things where I experienced a five day blackout and three days of internet abstinence. I also made some friends, picked up on Italian, figured out public transportation, went shopping, bought a camera, had gelato (twice), got lost and was subsequently overwhelmed by the consistency of beautiful architecture that has come to define the country. Though I have seen only the mere hem of Italy, is has already swooned me every day that I have left my apartment.
   
3. My grandma had a stroke.
4. My grandma slipped into a coma.
5. I bought a ticket home and leave for Milan, New York, San Fransisco and then Hawaii tomorrow morning at 4am. It will be thirty hours thereafter before I arrive.
6. I will spend roughly a week with my family, mourning and remembering and loving, as we have all learned that we should do more of it while we have the time.

See you in Hawaii.