Sometimes, Synchronicity

After exploring the North Island, I wasn't seeing any signs pointing me in any direction. I was hoping for an indication that I was supposed to stay in New Zealand. Maybe I look too hard. I came all this way and I was not ready to give up. I called the airline the night before and changed my flight departure date to give myself two more weeks with hopes that maybe I would find what I was looking for - whatever that is.

I was trying to convince a woman I just met into joining me for an itinerary-less adventure. She had just arrived to New Zealand from the United States on a Working Holiday Visa. She said she needed to find a job first. I was trying to talk her out of that.

“You should explore before having any obligations! You’ll be back in two weeks! Find a job then. It’s an opportunity! An adventure!”

I was trying really hard. I didn’t want to go out there on my own. I would rather go with a complete strange whose name I didn’t even know than go alone. I heard about opportunities to relocate rental cars for free and I thought this would be a great way to travel! 

The things is, I was afraid to drive on the left side of the road and I wanted someone, anyone, to come with me.

A girl I met a couple of days before joined us at the table during this conversation. She interrupted my campaign and says. “I’ll come with you if we can hitchhike.”

My head began to buzz. "Really? Okay! You're sure? We are really doing this? Really? When should we head out? Okay!"

We exchanged a few more excited words and then she held her hand across the table for me to shake.   

I liked this gesture. The deal was sealed. And the excitement that there was now a no-plan filled my body!

It always works out; I always find my way.

Suddenly, in the background, I heard a familiar song from the television on the other side the room - and not just any song. This was not an especially famous song, but it has played a role in my life.

The buzzing in my head got louder as I felt the universe telling me that I was exactly where I was supposed to be.

The song I heard belongs to my musician-friend, Israel, back in Oregon. We have actually talked about what he was thinking when he wrote it! And it was playing. From the television across the room. Here. In New Zealand.

Why now?

As my new travel companion, Emma, and I came up with a rough itinerary of the places we would go on the South Island, the commercial seemed to keep playing every couple of minutes. Over and over again.

(This is not the commercial, but this is the song:)

A couple days later, Emma and I found ourselves on the very scenic ferry ride across the Cook Strait from Wellington to Picton.

My new friend and travel companion, Emma, and I on the ferry crossing the Cook Strait. 

We spend the night in a really cozy backpacker next to a cemetery and with plans to begin the hitchhiking portion of our southbound adventure in the morning!

To be continued!

Because, Fear

If you had asked me as a young child, I would have told you my life goal was to go skydiving. Over the years, as I developed a fear of heights, the impulse to go skydiving morphed into something I would never, ever do.

How have I now found myself in New Zealand at an airport where I am about to… jump out of an airplane?

The idea came to me about a month earlier while riding on a transcontinental train from Philadelphia to Oregon. I heard a voice in my head that told me, “Go to the other side of the world and go skydiving. You have nothing to lose.” I hated that idea, but I knew it needed to happen. (I might be a crazy person.)

Everyone at this tiny airport is asking if I am okay, but I don’t want to talk about it. If I am honest about the fear consuming me, I may not follow through. I am in the depths of some kind of self-induced, self-destructive, terror.

When it comes down to it, I know that I am here because I need to prove to myself that I can push my own boundaries. I am here because I know I can get past fear and do anything.

Waiting to go skydiving - Do not confuse this face with one of bravery.

I have been told repeatedly that a double parachute failure is extremely rare. I am told that they have only seen two people vomit. (I am also told that they have never seen anyone poop their pants while skydiving, because I ask.)

After what feels like forever, a man comes over to attach some harnesses or something to me. I immediately notice he has the same intense blue eyes as me. He says his name is Andrew and I kind of feel like we are the same person, because of our eyes. He's going to jump with me. He sounds like he is from Ireland but I am too afraid of reality at this point to engage in small talk.

If I hear my voice, it might mean this is really happening.

The plane finally pulls up. Don't think. Just keep moving forward.

I cannot even describe the terror pulsating through my body. Everything hurts and I feel sick.

I know that if I don’t go through with it, the disappointment and regret will outweigh everything else. I can’t turn around now. No one has forced me to be here. 

Andrew and I get into the plane. He shows me a little red thing that I’m supposed to do something with in the event that the plane goes down, but I can’t process what he’s saying.

The plane takes off. We’re going higher and higher. The things on the ground are getting smaller and soon we are above the clouds. I’m looking out the window, remembering that I’m afraid of airplanes and feeling especially uncomfortable in this little tin can with wings. I hate this. There is no turning back.

Blue-eyed Andrew and my face full of fear.

I feel like I’m tired now and I’d rather just take a nap instead. Andrew hands me an oxygen mask.

The two guys sitting closest to the door roll it up. A huge burst of wind and noise fill the airborne tin can.

Those two guys. Guess what they do? They just jump out! I see them falling. They fall so much faster than I ever imagined.

I feel sick. What am I doing?

Andrew yells at me to scoot over to the door and… hang my legs over.

What have I done?

That is not an excited smile. I think my face just does that by default.

Don’t look at the ground. Don't look down. Don’t think. Don’t cause a scene. Oh, look at the wing.

And then.
We’re falling.

Noooo! I changed my mind!

We are falling.

We are falling and falling.

I see the ground. It is so far away. 

It feels terrible.

I don't need to breathe because the air is violently forcing itself up my nose.

And we're spinning. Spinning!

“Oh no! Oh no! Oh no! We’re going to spin out of control and we won’t be able to deploy the parachute! It’s going to get all tangled up!” I'm thinking.

I try to scream, “NO!” only to realize that the noise from the wind is SO loud! He can't hear me!

He spins us again and again.

I'm going to pass out.

I am alone.

Not smiling.

Andrew is having a great time!

Suddenly! WHOOSH!!!!!

THE PARACHUTE DEPLOYED! I AM PROBABLY GOING TO SURVIVE!

I'm thinking: Who am I?

It’s not until this moment, floating peacefully in the sky, that I realize... I did not poop myself. Thank you, body. Woo!

Andrew tells me to look at the smoking volcano, Mount Ruapehu (filmed as Mount Doom in Lord of the Rings)!

I’m alive.

My heart is racing so hard. I would not consider this a pleasant sensation in any way.

But do you know what? I did it.

I am terrified still, but I feel proud. I did it.

I did it.

The body of water is Lake Taupo - the result of a supervolcano!

 

When we eventually get to the ground, I fall over. I just want to lie in the grass. I want to be left alone.

I survived. I guess I can do anything.

Was there a moment that I thought I would actually not go through with it? Yes. The entire time. I can still barely believe I did it!

Would I do it again? I don't want to, but I would! 

Even though everything about this was horrifying, I could never be satisfied living a life where I am my own obstacle. 

I know I need to live my life in such a way that no one will even believe me. I need to live a life that I can barely believe in myself.

North Island - Southbound.

As I walked past the queue of people waiting for the bus, I quickly scanned the crowd (as I do when I walk into any new situation) to see if my soul mate was there. No one stood out so I boarded the bus with my small pack and waited for departure.

The radio was playing a morning talk show and I’m sure the driver, who was outside loading bags into the belly of the bus, had no idea the topic was a detailed discussion about vaginas. How comically appropriate!

Once on the road, we did one of those everyone-introduce-yourself-with-your-name-and-country things. This was around the time that I discovered I cannot tell a Canadian accent from an American one. I also quickly learned that most Canadians get offended if you mistake them for an American. (And this was before Donal Trump!) The bus was full of people from all over the world.

We stopped at a waterfall. Pretty.

After a couple hours, when the bus arrived to our destination in Raglan, we were offered an opportunity to take a walk on the beach and the bus would pick us up on the other side to where some people were taking surfing lessons. Doesn’t that sound nice? A walk on the beach - easy and relaxing!

Well, the trek across the beach was actually some kind of boulder field consisting of large, smooth, round rocks that would easily roll out of place. So, what I thought was going to be a nice leisurely stroll on the beach, turned into a careful meditation of foot placement, decision, and balance.

The first time I fell was easy - I fell with grace and slowly. I managed to land carefully and completely protect my camera! I congratulated myself for having such good core strength, or something. Phew! 

The second fall was not graceful when the rock rolled completely and I slammed hard.  I smashed my hand and camera. I was too afraid to open the lens cap or turn it on to determine the damage. 

Beautiful to see and unpleasant to cross.

After what felt like an eternity, I finally made it across to the smooth sand, my hand and arm bleeding, holding my camera against my chest.

As I headed back to where I saw the other people waiting, another guy from the bus was running down a trail and our paths crossed. I find out that he was originally from Indianapolis but has lived in Australia and Chile over the last several years. He has done a lot of traveling around the world. And has a lot more planned.

As long as I can remember, I have been tortured with this pull to get out and wander into places by myself; let the wind or a random suggestion sway my direction. I have felt alone, and sometimes a bit crazy for this, but now I am beginning to meet other people who have the same drive. Maybe I am not so strange. I thought that I wanted to immerse with the locals, but it might turn out that I needed to meet other wanderers who are drifting around the planet alone for their own reasons.

The feeling to travel is a constant tug that I feel in my chest - causing agitation and restlessness. It feels beyond my control and it feels insatiable. I don't know exactly what it is, but I think I have this idea that there is some big thing waiting for me; there is a conversation with someone that I have not yet found, who will have a piece of the puzzle; there exists some vista that will speak to my heart and direct me to wherever I need to go. Maybe I will find some pocket of energy that I need to experience and share with someone else, somehow.

Anyway, when we got back to the group at the end of the beach, we found that one of the guys who had been taking surfing lessons had been caught in the riptide. He was really shaken up. He said he thought he was going to die. He was celebrating his survival with a beer.

Man, my trip would have looked much different if he had died. Good on ya! Surviving! Life! Woo!

After watching the sunset over the Tasman Sea, we all came together for dinner. I said something like, “Hey everyone! I just want to take a minute to point out that we did not know each other this morning and now here we are, eating together, becoming friends, and existing in each others lives!”

The guy who had almost drowned at the beach earlier, turned to me and said with a British accent, "You're tapped in. I'm sticking with you." And then a song that had been stuck in my head for the last few days came on the radio.

Out Traveling.

I'm collecting more stories and I didn't bring a computer! Look for the next update on Monday December 14!