Leave it. Forget. Let go. Move on. A problem I’ve been dealing with for a few years. I get attached to everything too quickly: to my surroundings, to people, even to things. And I’m not a materialist. Far from it. Traveling across Australia will teach me this too. How to say goodbye. How to live for today, not yesterday.
I never have trouble spending time with myself. Quite the opposite; I’ve started enjoying the solitude. However, I’m still a social being who needs company. When I have it, I try to take advantage of the moment and meet people. Spend quality time with them. Get to know their outlook on the world, on themselves and on life. Understand their opinion, because only then I can understand myself and my own opinion. All of this evokes emotions, an attachment, and everything that can make us miserable.
I am once again faced with a decision. To stay and persevere, or pack up and move on? Just the thought, that I want something different, something more, a new experience, answers enough. But where? Where to go? I’ve managed to save up some money, but it’ll only be enough for maybe two weeks. I need work. An income.
I grew up in a big family, where I would often take responsibility of taking care of my younger brothers and sisters. Not because I had to, but because I felt I wanted to. Because I know I can give them that which only a sister can.
I still have this love for children.
Maybe because I don’t have any of my own.
I still have this love for children. Maybe because I don’t have any of my own. Maybe because there are experiences waiting for me, which will fulfill me.
There are many working families in the South and East of Australia that work night shifts, their work forcing them to hire a nanny. That’s especially true for the most remote industrial cities, or less tourist-developed places, where you’re left with nothing else but to spend time with the kids and save up the money you receive from your family. The most remote offer I’ve received was in Mt. Isa, where I would be taking care of four children. Every other week. I could work as a waitress in-between. In a town where they regulate air pollution the most. So, digging up copper, zinc, lead, silver and gold really does pollute the environment.
Would I live in a remote town, far from the tourist destinations, for a month? Where peace and quiet find their place. I would have time for self-reflection. Why not? Offers from Port Hedland kept rolling in. It’s a coastal city, where I could explore the surrounding national parks. Observe the turtles on the beach and the life of the residents at the same time, those who live in a work-heavy industry. Long freight trains and large ships roll through the city, the latter sailing into the harbor, where they load up the heaviest ships in Australia. Those are loaded up with large quantities of salt they gather in the local salt panes.
Slowly, I guess I am going to have to start saying goodbye to unnecessary things.
New acquaintances, new discoveries about yourself.
In Exmouth, by the Indian Ocean, I would live with a wealthy family, joining them on their yacht on the weekends. But. I can forget all about privacy in the next three months. About personal development. Then. This experience could bring something new; new relations, new discoveries about myself.
I’m packing again. It’s hard to fit everything in the backpack. Harder and harder. It seems I would soon have to say goodbye to the unnecessary things. So I’ll have enough room for new adventures, new people, and new experiences. Thank you, Sunshine Coast. Thank you for the sunshine that guided me towards tomorrow, erasing the signposts that point towards yesterday. Hello, Present.