“We’re going traveling,” he says to me with a cheesy grin.

It was 6:30 a.m. on our last day in Malapascua, Philippines and our first day traveling together. Though I was feeling a bit rough from my snorkel test the night before, the final stage of any good divemaster course in which candidates funnel a concoction of booze, I couldn’t help but smile also.

Anyone whose followed my blog or even just looked at the about me page knows that solo travel was my thing. I’ve always prided myself on being able to go anywhere in the world alone. But something changed on this trip.

It all started about eight months ago in the tropical village of  Port Douglas, Australia when I started waiting tables at a place called Mango Jam. I was a bit nervous to be doing a job I hadn’t in years, but my friendly co-workers made me welcome and at ease. I liked everyone that worked there, but one chef named Ric in particular stood out a bit more.

That first night we all went to Iron Bar for karaoke. Ric and I spoke a bit, but he seemed a bit shy or uninterested, so I left it at that. I asked another girl there about him and she just said,” He’s parsley!” which was a code word for hot one of her friends came up with when she first saw him.

If he was uninterested when we first spoke, then he would want nothing to do with me by the end of the night as I sang “Jessie’s girl.” I’m probably the worst karaoke singer, but I just love it too much to resist.

We stayed friendly with short conversation as I came in and out of the kitchen to pick up food, but that was it. Then one day he came into work on his day off, slightly pissed, and came out of his shell to me by means of licking my face and picking my nose.

I was in love.

Ric and I picnicing in the Botanic Gardens in Melbourne, Australia.

He wasn’t uninterested, just shy. Since I was leaving about ten days after that I figured what the hell and went for him. We started a little work romance that we both knew was just a fling since I was going and he was staying. I felt more, but knew it didn’t matter. I was content with bouncing around the town with him and sneaking into his tent.

And I thought he was too.

Then came my last night. He stopped at my hostel to say hang out for a bit and say goodbye. In the middle of it, he got a call from a friend.

“Nah, I can’t make it. I’m doing something,” he said. “I know. I know. I’ll catch the end of it.”

When he hung up I said if he needed to go I would understand.

“Nah, it just the first Liverpool game of the season,” he said. “My mates were wondering where I was.”

That’s when I knew it was true love.

Living in England for six months, I know how important footie is to them. Knowing Ric for just two months, I knew how important Liverpool was to him.

I left Port Douglas for a month and we kept in touch. I came back  and a week later we moved in together. He left before me and we met in Melbourne. We celebrated the holidays together. He met my dad. We were both upset to say goodbye when I had to leave Australia in January for the Philippines.

He stayed in Australia and saved up with plans of making it out in two months.

Two months?

I couldn’t even get through a day without him.

We made it five weeks, then he made the ridiculous journey to meet me in Malapascua.

He was the last thing I expected in the travels and the best thing I found. While we’ve been living together for about four months, technically we still have not traveled together until now.

Our travels together officially started when we left Malapacua in route to Hong Kong. Since this site is about my travels, it only seems logical for him to join it. So as of now, Heels and Wheels is no longer about solo travel, but about traveling as couple.

Together on our last night in Malapascua, Philippines.

Ric and I both know traveling together will not always be easy. All couples fight and travel can add extra stress. So to prepare for this big change in my travels I went to traveling couples Amy and Kieron of Don’t Ever Look Back, Laura and Roberto of Travel for Love and Mike and Luci of 1000 Fights for tips and advice. Read what they had to say here.

Welcome Ric to Heels and Wheels and the wonderful world of travel blogging. Be kind to him-he’s still writing with the outdated form of English.

What a difference a year makes?

That’s the biggest understatement of my 2010.

More so than any other year of my life, this one has been the most changing and unexpected.

I came to Australia in a drought and leave it in floods. I arrived with one friend on the continent and depart with heaps all over. All I wanted to see last January was a koala, now I won’t settle for anything less than a cassowary. I expected to head directly out west and spend most of my year there, but found my heart in tropical Queensland.

My wardrobe to consisted of J. Crew, Old Navy and Anthropology. My wardrobe from contains Cotton On, Witchery and Country Road. I didn’t know of another Bobbi this time last year. Now I know three, one of which is one of my greatest friends-that’s going to be confusing. I came thinking I KNEW good coffee, but leave Melbourne realizing I had NO IDEA!

I thought I’d meet and make friends with tons of Aussies, but the majority of mine came from the UK. A year ago the thought of Manchester, England wouldn’t have even crossed my mind, now I’ve adopted a family of “Mancs.”

I arrived single, selfish and uninterested in anything other than business and travel and leave committed, in love and counting the days till I see him again.

It’s definitely been a year of surprises, but best of my life thus far.

I’ve thought of how I would write this post a million times throughout my trip. The first draft explained it as just a nice, impacting visit filled with a few good people and great photos. The next was written as just a one year anniversary, rather than a good bye. The following was a letter to the government, begging them to let me stay just a little bit long. But the last, this one, is a huge thank you and can’t wait to see you again.

This year and this country has made me a happier person.

Through a lot of great times and even some bad, I can honestly say that I love this country for better or worse. It’s home to some of the most beautiful places on earth. The culture changes over and over from top to bottom. The only thing its people are serious about is being proud of their homeland, and sport. They never miss an opportunity to celebrate life and they’ll take the piss out of just about anyone, including themselves.

It’s just a care free and easy place to live- and I got a whole year here.

Those who have followed me through this trip know what I’ve taken from it. But besides a few comments, I’m not sure what they’ve taken. So on my last day here, I’ll say what I hope it is.

Possibility.

I spent a lot of my last year in college on the computer, trying to figure out what to do next. After 22 years of following what in America people are just suppose to do, I finally had a chance to make my own decision. I wanted so badly to travel, but was scared and lost hope quite a few times. Whether because of money, work or circumstance, I didn’t think it was possible for me at that moment.

I followed “the American dream” a bit more and landed a sweet job. I was happy, but it wasn’t what I wanted. So I revisited my dream, this time with determination. It started with putting a bit money aside, continued with a passport application and finished with a plane ticket.

I’ve received so many emails from people saying they wish they could do what I’m doing. My response will always be, “You can.” It may not always be easy, but anything is possible.

Maybe travel isn’t your passion. That’s fine. Follow whatever makes you happy. But for those with who dream of life abroad like I did, stop reading about it and do it. Stop Googling to make sure it’s okay and just see for yourself. Stop limiting yourself to one place and realize the possibilities available to you all over the world.

Never have I felt as many possibilities as I did during this past year in this country.

For that, thanks Australia. You’ve made more opportunities possible for this little American than you’ll ever know.

I hate writing about relationships, which is why I’ve put off a post like this several times in my travels.

But I’ve reached a point in my trip where it can’t be avoided.

Throughout this trip I’ve met boys, kissed them, liked them, left them, broken hearts and had my own broken. But up until now I’ve never actually fallen for one of them.

It started with flirtation at work, continued with a kiss in the middle of the main street in town and progressed to spending every day together. The whole time I thought it was just fun, fun, fun. Then one day I realized I was changing my own plans in order to spend more time with him. It was just little changes in my day-to-day routine, but nonetheless changes to suit someone else, from a girl who actually encourages selfishness.

Travel is selfish. It’s not a bad thing, just the way it is. A person spends months, sometimes years, saving up for the trip of  a lifetime. So when that person reaches his or her destination, he or she has every right to spend his or her money and time how he or she chooses.

That mindset was easy when I was constantly moving and never really forming lasting relationships. But when I finally stopped, my selfish self slowly faded away. I met friends that made me want to think of more than just myself and formed relationships that made me want to give more than just a day.

Even if I felt like Port Douglas was my home, I always knew it wouldn’t last. I was going to leave here at some point and leave all the people I has become so close with. Still, I never thought that “just a fling” would make the move this difficult.

It’s probably the most nerve-wrecking thing for independent women to find themselves rethinking their plans. I changed my departure date twice, because I wanted more time with another person. It’s hard to tell what’s the right thing to do in a situation like this and I think inevitably you just need to follow your heart and do what makes you happy, but even that can be shaky.

Say you’re both on the road and want to try to make your encounter more than brief. Someone has to compromise. You both came to a place with things you wanted to see and do. If those things are the same than that’s luck, but they’ll most likely be different, especially if you’re at different points on your trip. So who is going to change their plans and how do you know the person that does won’t feel subconsciously bitter about it.

Further, people aren’t always themselves abroad. I know I can be a bit different from place to place and I’m definitely more relaxed while traveling than I am at home. So how do you know you won’t discover a new person in your significant other after only a few weeks traveling together and when you do, what do you do? Where do you go? It’s not easy to up and change your plans when your on a budget.

It’s not easy to leave someone you like, but sometimes it can be even harder to stay with them.

Relationships can bring on a level of stress to someone who is constantly on the go. So why bother? Is it even worth it?

Yes.

One shouldn’t avoid dating abroad for fear of getting too attached. The people you meet, the moments you have with them and things you learn are worth any heart ache or loss.

Everyone has needs and they shouldn’t be neglected. Dating people abroad can produce some exhilarating experiences; spending the night kissing a stranger along the waterways in Amsterdam, running off with someone for a few days to Paris, shacking up with someone for a few months in Thailand.

Further, dating people outside your own culture is fun and intriguing. It adds a difference in dating that most people never experience. Every culture has differences in everything from kissing to cuddling. It keeps you on your toes, because you really don’t know what to expect.

Inevitably, I think it’s important to give a bit of yourself to romance during your travels, but never lose yourself completely. The most important person on your trip is you and the last thing you want to do is leave a place thinking, “God I wish I hadn’t of wasted two months following some guy around.”

When you find yourself neglecting what you want to do for another, stop and think about it.

If you’re meant to be with someone you will be again…at some point, somewhere in the world. But you may never have the freedom you have in this trip. The time and the choice to just go wherever and do whatever you want. Embrace it.

It may sound corny, but you’re the most important person in your life, because if you’re not happy, you can’t be happy with other people.

(Banner photo courtesy of www.ocean.com)

It can’t be easy being the parent of a traveling child. While parent’s kids are abroad they can expect constant calls home for cash, an even more constant feeling of unknown (one day your child could be jumping off a cliff and you have no idea) and parents that love their kids probably miss them when they go.

But having a vagabond in the family isn’t all bad. The post cards are cool and the lengths of separation can lead to a greater appreciation of each other. But by far the best part of having a traveler in the family has to be being able to visit him or her.

During my first long term trip abroad, my dad, uncle Paul and aunt Peggy came to visit me in London where I was studying at that point. It meant so much to have them make the trip out to see me and I really enjoyed showing them around a city I had come to love.

To continue this wonderful family tradition, the tri-pod, along with my dad’s girlfriend Mary have decided to come out to see me on my current travels. But unlike last time where they came to the city I was living in, this time I actually get to meet them some place I’ve never been to as well.

Stand-up guys, my dad, myself and my uncle at McFadden's at the Park in Philadelphia before the Army/Navy game last year.

Fiji.

When I told my dad I was going abroad last year, it was a given that he would come see me even with the harsh economic times. I assumed they would be visiting me in Australia, but when they mentioned meeting some place different, I was intrigued. When they decided on Fiji, I was thrilled. This will be my first trip to Asia and well, it’s Fiji. I think that says enough.

There are plenty of ways to see the country and with all it’s islands cruises are probably the most popular. But looking to have a bit of stability and a home base after what will be a long trip out, my uncle rented a house in Rakiraki where we can start our daily explorations from.

With only short bouts of having my own room here and there over the last eight months, I’m really glad to have a home for a week. Not just a home, but one with my real family. Plus a bed and a kitchen and a living area, all to ourselves.

I’m also excited to see a bit of Fiji that most people don’t visit and I have not heard much about, the inland.

While I’ve been really good at remaining spontaneous in Australia, having only a week in a new country has brought me back to my planned traveling self. Guided by Lonely Planet’s most recent guide of Fiji, I’ve chosen quite a few possibilities for the upcoming trip.

We plan on doing heaps of snorkeling and scuba diving while there. Photo courtesy of www.usdivetravel.com

The book covers all of Fiji, but I only selected things I thought we could actually hit considering where we are staying as well as the amount of time and money we have to burn. Based on these considerations I selected activities from Viti Levu, the mainland, and the Mamanuca Group of islands, lower islands off Viti Levu’s west coast.

Some friends suggested renting a car and taking some long day trips, stopping at beaches not listed in the guide book and taking in the coast line. Whether by car, boat or foot, I found some things I definitely want to hit on my upcoming trip.

• Regatta Week at Muscet Cove
• Visit a village – Village visits can include sevusevu, meeting ceremony, and meke, dance performance, which on a tour may seem a bit put on. LP suggests travelers go with tours run by villagers, such as in Navala on Vita Levu (although I’ve read reviews saying otherwise). Don’t forget the kava.
• View a meke dance performance- “a dance performance that enacts ancient lore”
• Drink kava-made of piper methysticum, a type of pepper plant, the somewhat narcotic drink is offered in samples at stores around the country.
• Eat lovo-food prepared in an underground oven.
• Raft on a bili bili-bamboo boat.
• Visit a Hindu temple.
• Buy a sari.
• Hot springs at Sabeto Mountain
• Receive a henna tattoo at Jack’s Little India in Suva.
• Visit a Saturday Market and try nama, cold seaweed salad, lumi, another seaweed, and something sweet wrapped in banana-leaf vakalolo, made of cassava.
• Stop at Bad Dog Cafe in Suva, which is known for smoothies.
• Drive to and dive Raki Raki (Nanau-i-ra island and Dream maker).
• Dive Mamanuca (plantation pinnacles and Gotham City).
• Visit Natadola Beach via Coral Coast Scenic Railway and go on a horse back ride.
• Ride the Yanuca Railway.
• Go on the Adventures Paradise Tour (cave, lunch and bili bili ride).
• Discover Fiji Tour of the Namosi Highlands.
• Seaspray day trip to Mamanuca Group of islands.

Both my trip to Brisbane and the city itself only gets better and better with each day.

I visited Brisbane for a few days back in April and knew I loved it then. Much smaller in population than Sydney and Melbourne, the major Australian city doesn’t get much attention out of its country.

It should.

On top of an exciting CBD, it has heaps of suburbs, each one completely different from the next.

Check out vintage stores while peering into authentic Queenslander homes in Paddington. Hang out at unique, hip cafes like The Three Monkeys Coffee and Tea House in the West End. Even go to the beach at South Bank.

Three Monkey Coffee and Tea House in Brisbane doesn't serve mugs of chai. It serves bowls. Photo by Bobbi Lee Hitchon

The city has fantastic art, food, music and technology scene. They’ve managed to make public art out of every space available and are extremely courteous to wireless junkies, even placing power points outdoor of the State Library, which offers free wireless 24/7.

I came at a perfect time without even knowing it. A transition period from Winter into Spring, August to September in Brisbane is beautiful, but abrupt in change of weather. It was chilly the last few weeks of August, then September 1st happened and it became hot.

The first week in September marks the start of the Brisbane Festival, which includes Riverfire, a fireworks show on the Brisbane River, and several other events in the arts. Brisbane Writers Festival and the Russian Film Festival also kicked off in the first week of September.

Beyond coming here at a happening time, the trip still would have been perfect for the place I got to stay and people I got to meet.

Staying at Yoga in Daily Life was better than what I thought it would be. I got in touch with my spiritual side, which I tend to neglect when traveling, and really looked after my physical side. I was so fortunate to be able to live there, take a ton of classes (25 in three weeks), learn more about yoga and eat fantastic food. My hosts were very kind and trusted me with a lot of freedom.

The centre is honestly the formula to my dream house: take a random building and refurbish it to be a home, add dark hardwood floors, lots of pillows, a kitchen full of spices, heaps of bay windows and light some incense.

Plus the location wasn’t too shabby. Located on Doggett Street in Fortitude Valley, the street was far enough away from the city central and Valley central to be quiet and safe, but close enough to be just walking distance away. My street was on a hill, which reminded me of San Francisco. While I never met any neighbors, the tattoo artists who lived and worked in the house across the street sure seemed interesting (I creeped on him every morning after breakfast and afternoon after lunch as he gave tattoos from a graffiti-decorated living room).

Palace Centro was located only a five-minute walk from my house, so I spent a few of my nights catching some indie-flicks like “I am Love.”

Planning, but failing to, run the Bridge to Brisbane last Sunday, I did a lot of running all over the city. My runs to New Farm, which is only a short distance from where I stayed, were by far my favorite. New Farm is the quintessential small town with corky houses, a serious butcher and adorable library, yet it’s located in the city.

I visited the the Jan Power’s Market in New Farm with a Canadian girl named Jen who WWOOFed with me at Yoga in Daily Life. Jen made me realize why people love Canadians so much over here. She was laid-back, hilarious and fun to be around.

She was one of several great people I met on this trip. One night we met up with Sean, who I originally met in Port Douglas and his friend Nick, who also goes by Muesli Man. We had a great dinner at the Tibetan Kitchen on Brunswick Street. After Sean gave us a tour of his sweet shared living space, which was in this old building that has been several things over the years, including a whore house. It reminded me of the house in Practical Magic. We even walked away from the night with some free muesli!

We ran into Nick, aka Muesli Man, at the market in New Farm. Photo by Bobbi Lee Hitchon

I met old friends, new friends and even some friends I had never officially met. Brisbane might be the Tweet Up capital of Australia. It was definitely the one of my trip. Somehow Brooke of Why Go Australia, Heather of There’s No Place Like Oz, and I (all constant travelers) managed to be in the same city at the same time. We met with resident ex-pats Kristin of A Pair of Boots and a Backpack and tech mercenary Adri as well as real live Aussie Jack of A Blog About Nothing…Much at Jimmy’s on the Mall one night.

I also got to meet Anthony of The Travel Tart at Jamie’s Espresso Bar in the Valley. I learned so much from our chat. It’s pretty ironic that at the time he was working only a block away from where I was living.

It was great to meet them all, talk travel and learn more about them personally. People may knock others meeting through social networking, but I’ll just say I wouldn’t have had half the people I had to hang out with in this city if it weren’t for Twitter.

While Brooke and Heather headed back to Sydney, the rest of us Tweeters got to hang out again. This time at an in-home Mexican restaurant outside the city. It’s my first time going to one of those somewhat illegal restaurant operations people hosts out of their homes. I won’t say much about it cause I want to keep it going, but let me just say, it was a breath of fresh air for someone who loves Mexican food and doesn’t believe tomato paste is a good substitute for salsa on nachos.

Showing some Mexican pride at the illegal operation outside Brisbane. Photo by Bobbi Lee Hitchon

I was a bit sad to leave all my friends in Port Douglas, but this was a great vacation. That may sound weird, considering my life is a vacation, but that’s what this felt like.

As it comes to a close I’m feeling pretty sad about leaving here. I’m not sure when, more like if, I’ll ever be able to return to Brisbane. I feel like this is the perfect city for me and I’m hoping to get some extra time in Australia to figure that out. In case I don’t, I’ve packed my weekend with a lot of great things to do, a poetry slam at the State Library, a community night at Yoga in Daily Life and going to opening night of Cantina, a performance that’s part of the Brisbane Festival.

I’m sad to leave, but I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to get over it considering I’m leaving here to go to Fiji. That last statement seems to be a trend of this trip. In fact, I believe I wrote it in a past post with different places.

Writing things like that makes me realize once again how good life is and how good my life in Australia is.

*So that was a fun way to end this piece, but let’s try this one on for size cause my love for this city multiplied in the midst of trying to post it.

I wrote up to this point of this post while eating dinner at Three Monkeys in the West End, which is a place I mentioned earlier. I arrived there starving, so I ate while texting Sean and Nick, both of which are mentioned above. I texted to tell them about community night at Yoga in Daily Life. It was actually the first time I’ve texted Nick. He responded first and said he didn’t know about tomorrow, but if I wasn’t busy tonight to come check out his performance at the Poetry Slam at the State Library, which was part of Brisbane Writers Festival.

My response was, “You’re a poet?” Emphasis on the question mark.

I was at that exact library all day and planned on returning to post this after I tried some of the cafe’s scrumptious looking mint chocolate cake. With my new plans I thought I’d post this piece, check out the slam for a bit, seeing as to how I had never been to one, and be in bed by 10 p.m. at the latest.

I ate my cake, met up with Nick while he was waiting to enter and worked on posting this in the mean time. I went in and sat with him and some of his friends when the MC of the event came over and asked Nick’s friend to be a judge, he hesitated and I jumped at saying, “I’ll do it!”

Ya gotta be quick.

She gave me a lei and while I was there I figured I’d take some photos. I thought this was all for fun. Still I wanted my judging to be good, so I listened really well and thought about it. Good thing, cause the winner of this event would go on to compete for the Queensland title, the winner of that event will go on to compete for the Australian title and the winner of that event will go on to compete for the world title. There’s money, travel and work at stake in all these steps, so it’s pretty important for serious poets.

The night included some fantastic participants and some that were just alright, but everything about it was fun. Professional slammers Emily XYZ and Myers Bartlett, both Americans, made a special appearance. They were absolutely incredible. I can say so much about their performance, but it’s really something people must just see to understand.

Emily XYZ and Myers Bartlett performing at the Brisbane Writers Festival Poetry Slam 4 September 2010. Photo by Bobbi Lee Hitchon

Nick, who I must reiterate that I didn’t even know he was a poet until hours before, didn’t go until second to last. Since I didn’t know he was a poet, so I definitely didn’t know he was a great poet. He ended up tying with another bloke for first. They went head to head at the end just to draw a winner, but both will go on to compete in the next slam for the Queensland title.

To celebrate, Nick, his friend Linda and I returned to Three Monkeys for cake. Nick won again for best cake pick as well, which is usually my best event. We talked about a lot of things and somehow the fact that Linda was a circus performer popped up. There I was, at a moment I thought I would be fast asleep in bed, sitting at a table eating cake with a poet and a circus performer.

Really?

Linda and Nick during our celebratory cake feast at Three Monkeys, quite possibly one of the coolest tables I've ever sat at. Photo by Bobbi Lee Hitchon

Nick gave us both a ride home. On the way he stopped at a park on South Bank and performed one of his poems about the father daughter relationship. We stopped again at the top of Kangaroo Point cause we saw for public toilets and decided to check out the park up there, which I must say is awesome.

Nick remembered that Riverfire was the next night and the toilets were probably from that. I’m still not sure if I’ll make it to Riverfire, but if I don’t I can at least say I did see the river on fire, cause the way the lights hit the trees up there looked like a fire in the photos I took.

It was one of those nights when next thing you know it’s 2 a.m. Me a few years back and it would’ve been, next thing you know it’s sunrise. Everyone knows those nights, the ones with someone you barely know, where the end just isn’t a thought, until it is, which is when you realize how good the night was. On the ride after I mentioned that I can’t remember the last time I had a night like that, but it was probably in high school cause we never had anywhere to go.

Sitting here now, I remember. It was actually on my last long term trip abroad in Amsterdam 2007. It took three years to have this type of exquisitely random night again.

I don’t think there’s a more fitting way to “end” this post than by saying this. I mentioned above that I didn’t know when or even if I’d ever return to Brisbane. After tonight that’s no longer true. With a grain of salt (cause every declaration in travel needs one) I’ll be returning to Brisbane October 22 to watch the Queensland Poetry Slam.

To be continued…

I had been looking forward to WWOOFing at Yoga in Daily Life in Brisbane since I left the organization’s retreat in Dungog, NSW over five months ago. Something shook me on that retreat, something I can’t quite explain, but I wanted to explore more.

I was gripping onto that something as my travels took me on a whirlwind journey around Australia. I did some incredible things in the past few months and wouldn’t change any of it, but all the while, returning to the organization to explore a yoga lifestyle stuck in the back of my head.

It’s a lifestyle that’s not the easiest to maintain in society I’ve lived in (I don’t want to say western or modern, because it may be different for everyone). One that requires a bit more discipline than I would say most people are accustomed to, but one where the health and spiritual benefits are incredible.

Living a yoga lifestyle is much more than what I was used to at home. My experience with yoga at home mainly consisted of classes at the gym or small centre near me. But the practice of yoga in class is just scratching the surface.

My duties at Yoga in Daily Life in Brisbane include preparing the studio for daily classes (cleaning, setting up mats, etc.), cooking lunch for volunteers at the centre and helping with some office work.

My favorite part of daily duties is cooking. Only vegetarian food is to be prepared at the centre. It’s great to learn about vegetarian cooking as well as all the herbs, nuts and other food sources that are used a lot in Indian and vegetarian recipes. I’m learning a lot about the benefits of certain herbs and other food sources as well as learning how yummy cooking healthy can be.

Black bean Soup and baked stuffed capsicums is a delicious veggie lunch option. Photo by Bobbi Lee Hitchon

Daily duties only take up about five hours of my day, the rest is spent in class or exploring the city. I’ve taken advantage of all the classes the centre offers, ranging from level one to level five of the Yoga in Daily Life System. After just a few days of classes, I felt great, but as I’ve continued I’ve noticed a difference in muscles and body parts I never really thought about.

It’s amazing how forgiving the body is. I arrived at Yoga in Daily Life Brisbane about two weeks ago mentally and physically exhausted. Two months of working a lot, not eating well and not maintaining my usual healthy living habits seemed to have caught up with me.

The day I arrived, I hadn’t slept in two days, mainly because my flight was so early that morning I didn’t  want to waste money on a room the night before, so opted to stay awake instead. Plus I was coming off a pretty high bakery high. I hit up the 24-hour alley way shop one last time before leaving Port Douglas to savor my favorite veggie pizzas. I arrived at the centre around 10 a.m., jumped right into a class and spent the rest of the day trying to stay awake. I didn’t make it to the second class of the day, falling asleep at 6 p.m. and waking up the next day at 6:45 a.m. to an alarm, which means I could have gone longer.

Ana, another WWOOFer there at the time, said to me a few day after my arrival, “You have a new face from the day you got here.” I can’t think of a better way to put it.

I usually keep a healthy existence between food, exercise and mental rest, but every now and then I slip out of it and sometimes veer pretty far off the best route for me. Never anything extreme, but little things that I know will add to a healthier and happier me that I’m just too lazy to do.

I get annoyed when I fall out of good habits, but remember that I’m only human and I can always fall back into them with a bit of focus.

However, my next step in yoga is requiring a lot more than a bit of focus to learn and practice.

Meditation.

It always seemed so simple and easy. For the longest time I never even considered trying it. Looking back, I don’t think it was that I didn’t consider trying it, but I couldn’t imagine trying it. It was not until Dungog that I actually started to think about meditating, but I couldn’t bring myself to try there or anywhere else since visiting there.

I decided I would try at Brisbane though and luckily the centre started a 4-week meditation course a weeks after I arrived. In classes before the course started I put  a lot more effort into meditating at the end of my yoga classes.

Classes at Yoga in Daily Life in Brisbane are held in a massive room that looks like it was once a basketball or netball court. Photo by Bobbi Lee Hitchon

Once I started to try to meditate in class I noticed when my thoughts started drifting and tried to bring them back to focus. One of the teachers at the centre said this is one of the the first steps in meditation and a big one. Still, I can’t stop it and it’s really frustrating. I don’t know what triggers the distraction, but a minute after losing focus I’ll notice that I’m thinking about something extremely random like what groceries I need to buy or a memory that doesn’t even mean anything. I’ve found that it’s easy for me to sit still, but impossible to think still.

The best I’ve felt meditating at the centre yet was when a teacher led the class through a meditation advising us to focus on a time when we felt most loved. I started to think of memories of friends and boyfriends, then finally found the right one. It was me at about four years old swinging from the arms of my mom and dad as we walked to the Friendly’s near my house.

The teacher went deeper into it, but advising us to think about every little thing about the moment, from the color of our clothing to the feelings we felt.

The goal of yoga is self-relization, but I’m still unsure what the goal is with each meditation practice. I don’t know exactly what people are suppose to see or feel. Some people have told me they’ve seen colors or felt warmth.

I don’t know about any of that, but I know after that one meditation, I came back to the room and felt like I had just arrived from somewhere else. I felt a bit groggy and like my body was falling asleep but my mind was still awake.

It felt like I had reached something I never had before in my meditation attempts and I thought I could build on that in the following practices. No luck. Even during the course, where my only focus for an hour was meditation, I couldn’t do it.

It’s hard and it makes me hungry after each attempt, but I’m glad I have the chance to do it in such a peaceful environment.

I only have another week left at Yoga in Daily Life in Brisbane, so I plan to make the most of all the great things offered there. It would be great to stay longer, but my upcoming plans are too exciting to be upset about leaving. In a week I get to see my absolute favorite person in the world, my daddy, as well as my Uncle Paul, Aunt Peggy and my dad’s girlfriend Mary, all in Fiji. It will be my first trip to Asia and the first time I’ve seen my dad in eight months.

I’ve been pretty good at not getting homesick this whole trip, but for some reason whenever I say that statement, “the first time I’ve seen him in eight months,” I get choked up. Needless to say, there will be tears shed at the Nadi airport.

Have I mentioned how much I love Port Douglas yet? Something about the tropical village just takes hold of you and causes you to act in ways you wouldn’t normally act. Love, or something like it, is an often occurrence and sporadic is a way of life. Everyday I woke up there I didn’t know what my day would entail and planning just never seemed like a good idea.

One random day, my good friend Dorcey and I turned a trip to Jai Gallery into a proper photo shoot. Amongst countless photos of her and I posing to look like Kate Moss and Anna Wintour, this one just happened by accident. Nico, an artist working in the shop at the time, had left out flowers that sat perfectly around the word “Love” written in black marker on a table in the porch out back.

Photo by Bobbi Lee Hitchon

To see more photos, check out the gallery “Chai at Jai” on my facebook page.

After three months, I’ve finally left Port Douglas.

I’ve had to say goodbye to a lot of great people and places during my travels in Australia, but this was by far the hardest, because it wasn’t just a person or place.

It was home.

My time in the tropical village definitely had it’s ups and downs, but included more laughter than tears and sun than rain.

With Alex and big brother Joe at a secret beach we found on a road trip to Mossman Gorge.

As with most things in my life, it was a “sign” that brought me to Port Douglas. I ran into an acquaintance on the street in Cairns who offered me work. Short on cash and at the end of my two-month blogging journey up the east coast with The Word, I took up the opportunity without hesitation.

It was extremely hard saying goodbye to my other half, Bobbi-Jo, but at that point we were both kind of clueless as to what we should do next and sitting in a desolate Cairns became more and more unappealing by the minute.

There were some opportunities for me elsewhere, but I decided to follow what seemed to be the easiest place to make quick cash. I came to the town looking to do only that. After two months of dealing with, “what’s your name” and “where are you from” on the reg, I was a bit tired of introductions and just wanted to not be new or meet anyone new for awhile.

This mentality led to a disastrous first month in my new home in regards to both work and relationships. By the end of June I was starting to doubt my belief in “signs,” which has pretty much guided me through most of my life. I regretted following my pockets instead of my heart and I was even thinking of packing my things and leaving.

An easy thought when you’re on the road, I laid in bed a few nights planning out the logistics of where would be easiest place to escape to next. Determined not to leave the town uttering the word “mistake,” I decided to stick it out until my originally planned departure date, which was August 16.

Things got better, then they got worse. I couldn’t figure out how to make everything right  again and go back to being my normal happy self.

During a conversation with a friend on the couch at Iron Bar, he said, “Bobbi, you have to simplify things.”

I started to think about everything on my shoulders at that point. The unusual dramas of my new life magnified by the fact that I was miles and miles away from the place where I feel safest and most at ease. Then I took things apart.

The major issue in my unhappiness there was the thing that led me there to begin with, a job. A job I didn’t even care about, nor was right for. Once that was out of the picture it was as if everything was right in the world again. I found new work, waitressing at restaurant on Macrossan Street and freelancing at the local newspaper.

Throughout all my struggles, it was strangers that came to my aid without hesitation or complaint. Strangers that became friends and friends that became family.

My Dorcey horey and James acting tough.

After all the drama dissipated, I saw Port Douglas for what it was, paradise, and the people in it for what they were, perfect. It’s hard to believe that 20-somethings could manage to live in such a spectacular place, but we did. Leaving it for a big city, something I was eager to do a month in, was not easy.

In a modern art class I took in college I learned about Ernst Kirchner’s painting “Street, Dresden.” The colorful painting depicts a busy city street, full of action and people. Yet there’s something unsettling and cold about it. According to the MOMA website, Kirchner painted the people’s faces to look like masks with vacant eyes to show the alienation and loneliness of modernization in the city at that time.

When I first learned about the painting, I understood his thought behind it, but I couldn’t relate. Living only 20 minutes from Philadelphia, in the busy suburbs of also New York City and Washington D.C., I always felt at home in the city and at ease surrounded by people.

After leaving Port Douglas and arriving in Brisbane earlier this week, I finally understand Kirchner’s feelings about Dresden.

To say Port Douglas is a small town is an understatement. There is one main street (Macrossan) where I could find not everything I wanted, but everything I needed (Tim Tams, pizza and chai), I couldn’t walk down the street without bumping into someone I knew and I had a coffee shop where the owners knew me by name and drink. The town is safe enough to leave a purse on the counter and run to the toilets and clean enough to never have to wear shoes.

Brisbane isn’t the biggest city by any standards, yet I feel completely lost here. Seeing me the first day here, people would never guess I came from the northeast America. It took me three times circling the same block to find the street I’m staying on. I almost got hit by at least four cars. I even got lost in a mall, which is shocking considering I’ve spent the majority of the last 20 years of my life in various malls.

I can’t think of Port Douglas as a place anymore, but rather a time. One that is definitely in the top greatest of my life and one that I’ll never be able to recreate. Everyone in the town is so friendly and welcoming. Everyone in my hostel was so caring and open. We shared some wonderful moments together and while I know I’ll share more with those people individually, it will never be everyone and it will never be like what I just left. That’s one of the worst aspects of living abroad. The groups that form include people from all parts of the world, making it hard to reunite that same group again.

Life in Port Douglas was like a crazy camp where there were no wake up calls, booze was encouraged and people could get away with sneaking into the opposite sex’s tent.

I complained about it being too small. I complained about it being too loud. I complained about being sick of Iron Bar. But sitting in my own room, in a large city with tons of different bars filled with tons of different people, I miss home.

In fact, I’m feeling really homesick for the first time in about three years and for the first time ever about a place other than my normal home.

My love for the town and the people in it has led me to book a return flight in September. It won’t be as long a stay and it won’t be the same Port Douglas as a lot of people are scheduled to leave before then, but a lot of the reasons that made the town special to me will still be there.

And I know that will make me feel like I’m coming home for the first time in a long time.

There’s always going to be a shit situation.

I’ve been very fortunate in my life. Everything always seems to go right. In fact, too right. Every time everything is going just too perfect I start to think that something must go wrong soon.

It has to.

There’s no way things can be this perfect.

Usually the only thing that ends up being really wrong is my own worrying. However, this time it was different.

Leaving behind details and reasons, things went wrong and I take the blame for a lot of it. Though I honestly thought for a second there was no silver lining and that this was actually a mistake.

But it was just a second.

There’s a reason for everything. It may or may not be apparent at the time, but eventually it all becomes clear.

This time all the mistakes were worth it because of the people, which at the end of the day, isn’t that what it’s all about?

Since arriving in Port Douglas I haven’t felt exactly grounded.

With anything…

It’s only strange because I’m the girl that’s always put together and always on point. I’m the one without the relationship drama and the one with the brilliant career life.

That wasn’t the case here. Here I thought things were too good to continue on that way and for the first time in a long time…that was actually the case.

But there’s a reason.

There’s a reason to feel like your falling and this time it was to understand the importance of the incredible people around me.

People.

Not family or long term friends. But people.

I think I’ve used the term “independent to a fault” quite a few times in this section. Little old me who doesn’t need anyone or anything to take care of her.

But I needed someone this time. And without any close friends around and a pretty shit internet connection, I didn’t know where to turn.

People.

They’re actually pretty great. Those people in random places you don’t know anything about nor do they know anything about  you.

It's never been hard for me to find good people. My friends at home in Love Park this Christmas after giving food to the homeless. Photo by Bobbi Lee Hitchon

They’re there for you. It’s weird, because they don’t have to be.

They don’t have to waste their time listening to your complaints or problems. They don’t have to waste their wine filling your glass when your feeling down. And they definitely don’t have to waste their shoulder when you can’t hold in the tears any longer.

But they’re there without a single sign that helping you is a waste.

It’s really quite incredible.

People.

With all the bullshit and hatred that goes on in the world. At the end of the day, there is someone there that cares. It’s a stranger. It’s someone you talk to in passing every once in awhile. But at the end of the day it’s people.

I’m not going to say they all care. In fact, quite a few can be quite shit. Some are really special and willing to help a lot. Others, it just works with certain people.

But there always are people who care. No matter how bad things get.

And that’s why nothing is ever a mistake. That’s why everything happens for a reason. To show you no matter how shit things get, things are genuinely good. People are genuinely good.

It may not always be apparent with everyone or everything, but it’s there.

It’s clear here, on the road, because where else will you see that people you’ve met just a month before can help you through a problem.

At home, it’s people you’ve been with for years, through thick and thin. People who you expect to help you through something, because you’ve helped them through it before.

But here, there are no expectations. No pay backs.

Just people.

Who act as they are and say what they say.

And for some reason, they’re there for you and they listen.

You meet someone new everyday when you’re on the road. You hear so many stories and so many names. Some are just in passing. Some last a bit longer. Almost none are forever.

That’s just the nature of it.

But that makes it all the better. Because without any pretenses, some people are just there.

It makes any problem. Any faults. Any regrets. Worth any grievances.

It’s easy to feel alone when you’re a million miles from home and everything is going wrong. But there’s people here.

And regardless of all the flack humanity receives. People are actually good. There always there. And just like you care.

So do they.

It seems to good to be true. Work a few hours a week and earn free accommodation. The deal is great, but the workload and hours are tough.

Most work for accommodation is for hostel cleaners. Imagine cleaning an 80-bed dorm of smelly, hungover backpackers. Plus there’s the kitchen the smells even worse, the bathrooms that often have a sink full of puke in the morning and sometimes even condemns left in strange places that you’ll never look at the same.

Even though the daily work load only amounts to an hourly rate of about $7 per hour in a country where minimum wage is $15 per hour, backpackers flock to this deal.

While the major portion of long term hostel guests usually include people cleaning the hostel for their room, it can also include people actually working at the hostel and those working in town who just prefer to stay at a backpacers.

I’m the second type of long term hostel guests. I’m a receptionists and bartender at a hostel in Port Douglas, QLD for a decent hourly rate and have $150 taken out of my paycheck each week for accommodation.

It’s a strange way of life that I can only relate to college dorm life during freshman year of college, except with less places to escape, more partying and zero classes. While this sounds like a dream, it has its ups and downs, but is almost a right of passage for backpackers in Australia.

Some days, hostel workers may not even step foot off the property. They wake up at the hostel, go to work at the hostel, eat their meals at the hostel, party at the hostel bar and once again return to bed at the hostel. It’s great only having to walk a few steps to and from work every day.

But makes it hard to escape.

I work four days a week, yet everyday people ask me questions about everything from staying another week to how to work the microwave. I don’t mean to be rude, but sometimes I just need to walk away when this happens to keep my sanity.

On top of the guests asking things, there’s the boss asking things. When people leave work at the end of the day or week, they’re out of reach. They don’t have to run into their superiors and they can just ignore calls or emails if they really want to.

That’s not a luxury had by people who live where they work. Just walking into the hostel on my day off I can be asked to help with something. If I’m not visible, my room is only a few steps away.

But always having people around can have its benefits. It’s not always easy to make friends in new cities. It usually takes awhile and requires going out or joining clubs and activities. However, at a hostel there’s always people around to hangout with and some of those people might end up being great friends.

Unfortunately, this means sometimes hostel workers must reprimand their friends. This is a huge problem. The majority of the time, hostel guests are breaking hostel rules. Technically those employed at the hostel should reprimand or report this. But not only does that add more off-the-clock work, but it’s also not a good way to keep friends.

Then there’s those that become more than just friends.

It’s easy to find love (or something like that) in a place that hosts 50 or so usually 20-something people a night. Plus the people are constantly changing increasing the chances of finding Mr. Right or Mr. Right Now.

With all the drinking and partying that comes with hostel life, booty calls are more in reach at 3 a.m. here than they are anywhere else in the world (for those that are into that).

It’s easy to find someone to crawl into bed with at night, but you’re bound to run into them the next day. Sometimes this can be good if those people really had that connection, but usually it’s just awkward and can even be annoying for those not interested.

If this fling moves past the next day, living a few rooms away from a potential partner can be straining. Both always know where each other are, which provokes a bit more drama than there would be if the pair lived far apart.

It almost feels like moving in with someone you may really like, but literally just met. Everything from your dirty laundry to your eating habits are exposed giving the hostel relationship nearly no chance.

It seems like a dream trade and looks like so much fun for those just visiting the hostel. But like anything else, it has its ups and downs and they’re hard to escape.