I’ll meet you halfway…

I’m sitting here in avoidance mode, procrastinating over the avalanche of assessment items I’ve come back to while battling a cold and a broken finger, but I’m not sad. I’m reminiscing over my recent week-long break to Byron Bay with my friend Kaitlin who I met in Montenegro three years ago.

What a time it was. We kept each other alive back then, and over the past three years we maintained a group chat (along with Jake of course) but it was rare for any of us to be in the same country at the same time. I mean, even when we were in the same country we were still at least 750km apart.

But the stars did align and we made a plan. A grand plan. We would meet halfway (well, at least in travel time) and spend a week hanging out. It was like we’d never been apart. Our energy even made an impression on locals, from people in cafes to random passers-by, and Byron Bay certainly made its impressions on us.

To my sister from another mister: I love ya girl! Thanks for mushroom coffees, shopping blisters, shaky hand tattoos, dog spotting, bathroom giggles, whale watching sunsets, waterfalls and cliffs, orgasmic falafel, gelato stalkers, and all the bits I’m missing. It will not take three years to repeat.

Finally there’s Byron Bay. What a place. I was in the best place ever to be a vegan. Amazing options everywhere I turned, an eco friendly heaven. The place just oozes cool from its artistic street vibes to its designer boutiques and cafes. Surrounded by incredible natural beauty and friendly faces.

We also took trips to local places like Mullinbimbi, Crystal Castle, Nimbin and Protestors Falls to name a few. There’s so much to discover in this corner of the world, possibly one of the best corners of Australia. If you are travelling the East Coast of Australia I promise you will not regret stopping at this gem.

Cheers to you Byron Bay!

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The collector.

Nature

Photo by Erika Kochanski.

I am a girl of nature. I think I always have been. When I was a kid I made soup out of flower petals, twigs, water and dirt then my family would sit down and pretend to eat it. I grew out of making garden soup, but not out of nature. Now that I’m older I’m the kind of girl who rescues snails and ladybugs from the pavement or a preying mantis from a car bonnet. I escape to cities temporarily for the greatness they offer, but feel most at home when it’s just me outside catching the last of the day’s sun-rays somewhere on the edge of civilization where wild things roam.

I get my kicks out of spotting a hawk flying overhead or hearing a woodpecker in the forest. I love the rain. I feel alive in the wind. I would rather spend an hour watching a bee collect pollen than ten minutes in a nightclub. Birds make me smile; I often stop to watch them swoop down over a running stream. I jump over slugs so as not to squash them. I take photos at strange moments, but it is usually because something small and seemingly insignificant has taken my attention. That’s how I end up collecting a billion photos of random things throughout any journey I undertake.

I never thought of myself as a collector, but now when I think of it I suppose I am. I am a collector of experiences and memories. My photos are a way to capture time the way I see it. When I look over them I feel an air of peace; a certain feeling of quiet. Every photo, no matter how odd the subject matter, can pinpoint a moment in my life which becomes frozen solid in my memory. This is why I take photos when I travel, because without them memories become less accessible, they may even wither and die as they fall into the forgotten. I do not want to forget.