My return from long-term travel

The trip is over.

3 months ago, I came “home” or whatever Berlin is to me.

Since then I am going through phases of settling in again.

Phase 1: The arrival

The first few days felt really good and exciting: meeting friends and beloved former colleagues, hearing what they’ve been up to, sharing travel stories, signing my new work contract, saying hello to my new colleagues, enjoying the city on a weekday in the warm September sunlight, finding new cafés in my new neighbourhood and feeling that special Berlin vibe which is especially present when you’re not part of the active workforce. I was expecting a post-trip depression, but it wasn’t happening. I was simply happy, looking back at my trip with contentment and curious about what the future would hold.

Phase 2: Feeling overwhelmed

This “I-just-returned-from-a-trip-around-the-world-and-everything-is-awesome”-wave I was surfing on wasn’t built to last forever. I guess that’s the nature of waves. I got started with my job and got thrown in at the deep end. I am used to managing crisis in companies, but everything seemed to accumulate all of a sudden. The busy city life overwhelmed me. All the cars and cyclists and pedestrians around me in Kreuzberg on my way home. So. Hectic. All these messages on Facebook, Whatsapp and Gmail, had I ever managed to respond to all of them? All these duties that come with an adult life, I had forgotten about them the last couple of months. With more belongings and a higher standard of living, also the maintenance work of my life had increased. After just ‘being’ for a long while, fulfilling all the roles that seemed to be expected of me were simply daunting.

Phase 3: Adaptation

Pretty obvious: a phase of adaptation followed soon after. I got used to the hectic streets and felt comfortable riding my bike again. I appreciated the crisis I got into at work because it forced me to get my hands dirty right away which resulted in a very steep learning curve. I got a bit of a routine in terms of workout. I have a gym again and have tried out a few yoga studios, checked out places to boulder, did bike tours, visited the old airport Tempelhof with my longboard and explored the restaurant scene in the area.

Phase 4: Questioning & Taking Action

The longer I wait to publish this post the more stages I enter. I am currently in the “Questioning” phase. I question if and why everything has to be the way it is. The low energy and emptiness I feel at the end of a stressful day at work. The rent I pay for my flat every month which equals the amount of money I needed to pay for everything for a whole month or more on my trip. How much waste we all produce thinking we are so much better than less developed countries….but there’s still plastic everywhere. All the hatred against other nationalities and beliefs these days. While I still struggle with all of those questions to some extend, I have started to take action on #1 and got back into practicing teaching yoga. I offer yoga classes at work for the yoga teacher door not to slowly close in front of my nose while I type corporate emails with limited meaning and a hunched back. Also #3 got into my personal focus and I decided to take responsibility for my own trash. I got some inspiration on YouTube and different blogs regarding a zero waste lifestyle and started producing my own products like tooth paste, shower gel (shower mousse in my case) and deodorant (I cannot say yet if it really works, but the first try was even a bit more promising than the regular aluminium-free alternatives I’ve tried so far). Next on my list are lip balm and detergent. Needless to say that I also try to purchase items from shops that try to limit plastic packaging as well.

There are plenty of more things to say about the trip in retrospective. But I’ll save that for another post.

Iceland – on the ring road

With the car full of camping gear, Þórir and I hit the road to travel anticlockwise around Iceland on the ring road. Already on the first day we ticked so many boxes and saw so many waterfalls that it was almost difficult to keep track of them – especially with this hint of jet lag that I still had.

Of course we did not miss the ‘Golden Circle’ with Þingvellir National Park where the American and Eurasian tectonic plates are pulling apart at a rate of a few centimetres per year….

…the Geysir geothermal area where the Strokkur geyser shoots a column of water into the air every 4-8 minutes…

… and Gullfoss, the ‘Golden Falls” waterfall, created by the river Hvítá (‘White’ river) which is fed by Iceland´s second biggest glacier, the Langjökull. Here the water plummets down 32 meters in two stages into a rugged canyon which walls reach up to 70 meters in height. Wearing rain jacket and trousers is highly recommended.

We made our way through hobbit-like land…

as well as moon-like landscapes…

…until we crashed at Þórir’s parents’ place. In the little town the inhabitants celebrated a meat soup festival and houses were decorated in different colours.

The next day, Þórir was asked to jump in as a second guide during a hiking tour and so I enjoyed the privilege to join for free.

The next day took us to the most special camp ground I had seen in a long while: Þakgil

When we arrived, there were many, many candles lit in a cave serving as the communal kitchen. In front of the cave ran a little river, which nicely compensated for the lack of a sink, tab water and a fridge all at once.

What else can you wish for when you sit in a cave full of candles with a cup of delicious, self-brewed cold beer in your hand, steaming vegetables filled with feta cheese in front of you and a content barbecue master eating his steak next to you? There’s simply nothing else you can wish for. This is it. I had reached it. Ultimate happiness and contentment in this moment in Iceland.

Throughout the onward journey this feeling persisted. It was not a feeling of hyped excitement, but just a deep feeling of satisfaction, stillness and peace. What contributed to this was that I abandoned my phone. I had not bought a SIM card, so I had no reception and I also tried avoiding to use the occasional free Wifi in any of the more sophisticated accommodations.

Hard to believe, but you really don’t miss a thing if you don’t check Facebook every hour (writing this, I do have Facebook open in one tab, so this is clearly a note to self).

With a mind free of the newest updates from Buzzfeed and whatnot, I enjoyed Jökulsárlón…

…as well as Svartifoss…

… nice little little houses along the way…

… collected some knowledge about the history of herring in Iceland…

… and did some whale watching starting from Húsavík.

And yay, some humpback whales said hello.

While I said hello sitting in a lukewarm river – just for the photo. Luckily, I did not get sick afterwards.

The last few days, after the trip around the island was finished, I spent in lovely Reykjavík…

…before I had to say good bye to my friend Þórir, looking back at an incredible time in this special place so close to the Arctic circle.

When I walked down the gangway to my AirBerlin plane I felt nostalgic. All those memories of my trip were running through my mind.

I sat down in my aisle seat and realized:

“Wow. This trip is over now.”

Arriving in Iceland

The flight to Reykjavik was actually not that long, but it felt like one of the longest flights on my whole trip. Main reasons:

1. I was stuck in the middle seat (note to self: checking in online 24 hours in advance is not enough)
2. Icelandair did not serve ANY food on this 6,5 hours flight and I did not want to give in by buying their snacks, I rather wanted to starve in front of them (note to self: bring emergency food)
3. My entertainment system failed to play movies. I could only listen to a fine selection of Icelandic music.

Luckily, the girl sitting next to me on the window seat shared her granola bars with me and we started to have a nice conversation which lasted until we had to say goodbye in the terminal in Reykjavik where she had to catch a connecting flight to London.

I proceeded to the flybus that took me to the city (approx. 50 minutes drive). Once again, I realized how much I love sunrises, especially over this incredible moon-like landscape.

Reykjavik is not a big city, but due to the lack of Wi-fi and my jetlag I took a taxi from the bus terminal. Looking at the houses and despite the unusual landscape I realized: I was back in Europe!

I arrived at my friend’s place at around 7.30 am and woke him up by ringing the door bell (and I was not even bringing breakfast, how rude!): Hello Þórir!

How great to see this amazing travel companion again after meeting him for the first time 3,5 years ago on a tour in Tasmania!

During the subsequent days it turned out that I could not have made a better friend back in Australia for my stay in Iceland to become comfortable and memorable. In the last 3,5 years while I wasn’t watching, Þórir had not only vastly improved his English, he had also become a tour guide and had purchased camping gear and clothing to equip a whole family or two. Even before I knew I needed something, he would pull it out of his sleeve: woolen long johns, a 66° North hat, a sleeping bag and a pillow, super thick socks… no matter what I needed – he had it.

With this phenomenon at my side I felt more than ready to hit the ring road around Iceland…. let the trip begin!

Solitude in Canada

The second last country on my trip around the world: Canada.

More specifically only British Columbia and even more specifically just Vancouver and Vancouver Island.

On my way to the hostel in Vancouver I was surprised about the number of homeless people in the streets. In the entertainment district where my accommodation was located every second person looked neglected. The two guys behind the counter at the SameSun Backpackers looked scruffy, too, so maybe this was just Vancouver style, I figured? Later on, studying the hostel’s handout, I learnt that the west coast of Canada indeed was the most popular area with homeless people due to the mild climate. Despite this very useful information, the hostel was still not entirely up my alley. Too busy, too loud, too anonymous.

I decided to stay only one night and enjoyed an evening of solitude with a mushroom burger and fries in a diner right across from the hostel at the counter where the loners like to sit.

The next day I escaped to Victoria on Vancouver Island. On the ferry from Tsawwassen to Swartz Bay, Canada showed the beautiful face it’s known for.

My AirBnB host picked me up from the ferry terminal in Swartz Bay. He was a software engineer on sick leave due to a major paragliding accident one year ago where he had crashed into a mountain and had fallen 50 metres down, broken most of the bones in his body and seriously injured his lungs. Quite a miracle that he survived. After one year his walking abilities were still impaired, but it was good enough to be an outstanding host for his AirBnB guests. In his house I met a very nice French guy on vacation and a Jewish couple on their honeymoon. Basically everybody in the house was raving about the amazing Jewish couple who were indeed incredibly kind, witty and inspiring at the same time. After a couple of minutes with them in the kitchen, learning about what kosher really means and that they where not even allowed to touch each others’ pinkie before they got married, I was ready to convert to Judaism. Unfortunately when I asked how that could be accomplished somebody else entered the kitchen and diverted the conversation.

Downtown Victoria was a 25-minute bus ride away from my accommodation. I went
there the next morning, searching for coffee and looking at Chinatown – the smallest I had ever seen. I found a coffee cart on my stroll around town and started a conversation with the operator about how I should spend my day in Victoria – turned out he was Austrian-Canadian and had worked in a café in Berlin recently. I promised to visit it upon my return.

Georg, the friendly coffee guy, had recommended that I rent a bike, so I did. Following the coast, I rode back to my accommodation and was surprised how long it took me. This was a serious workout. The serious cycling workout continued the next day when I rode all the way up to Sidney – actually just for the “Sydney-Sidney” joke. It reminded me of this story of a German who wanted to visit his girlfriend in Sydney, but then he ended up in Sidney, because both his spelling abilities as well as his geographical knowledge were not that great. Anyway…this is what Sidney looks like if you apply an Instagram filter:

The day after, I visited the coffee cart and Georg again and then took off to cycle along the Galloping Goose Trail. Some more impressions of this as well as the Mt. Douglas Park next to my accommodation:

Soon it was time again to go back to Vancouver. My French flat mate left the same day and offered me a ride to the ferry which I gladly accepted. Back in town I checked into the HI at Jericho Beach, such a classical youth hostel with a very specific HI vibe going on which I personally love. I continued enjoying solitude for the most part, running and walking a lot.

While I was walking and walking and walking and there was really nothing special happening, I started to wonder if I had become boring. There had been all these interesting stories at the beginning and the middle of my trip and now, there was only nice landscape, birds singing and peace of mind.

Why? Whyyyy?!?!

I suddenly realized that it had nothing to do with me. It was all about the countries I was in – those western countries are simply not known for their craziness.

At least Iceland was known for crazy food, so naturally I could barely wait to get to the airport to hop onto my plane to Reykjavik.

Hiking and hitch-hiking in Santa Cruz

I hope my mom does not read this!

Mom… just skip this one, okay? And don’t even bother to look up what hitch-hiking means. 😉

Now that I got that sorted, let’s get at it:

After I arrived at my friend’s place in Bonny Doon in Santa Cruz county, I moved into a pagoda to continue the camping lifestyle.

The first night I had to get used to the openness and the exposure of this spot, but the subsequent nights I slept like a baby…. except that one night when I almost froze to death even though I wore 6 layers of clothes. It can get cold in the hills of Bonny Doon. I know that now.

Anyway… Santa Cruz is a nice place, very chilled out and the county has so many, many beaches. The produce is so good, your taste buds will be in a constant state of bliss. If you ever visit and like a good cup of coffee, visit Verve.

There are lots of state parks in the area and I checked out both the Wilder Ranch SP and the Big Basin Redwoods SP.

Hiking and cycling in the Wilder Ranch really makes it hard to ignore the alarming drought in California.

Walking through the grassland is almost scary in the shimmering heat, knowing that only one spark is enough to set the whole place on fire.

I could not reach the Big Basin Redwoods SP by bike, so Andre dropped me off at the entrance gate right at Waddell Beach and assured me that I would certainly find someone who could give me a ride back to Santa Cruz to meet him for dinner.

Hitch-hiking! How exciting!

But first things first: hiking!

Still a bit sore from cycling and walking the previous day I walked at a very slow pace, not developing any ambition at all – also due to the fact that there were no real loop trails available. I just walked the ‘skyline to the sea trail’ (in reverse order) and then just turned around when my desire to hitch-hike became greater than my desire to continue walking.

Back at Waddell Beach I positioned myself at the end of the parking lot where cars pulled onto the street, so that I could observe people first and then chose whom I wanted to approach. That’s me, today’s risk-averse hitch-hiker, no thumb, no nothing, how lame! 😀

Nobody was going to Santa Cruz, though! 10 minutes and 5 failed attempts later, I finally talked to an older couple.

I, the psychologist, had noticed how the man, while sitting on the beach, had observed me approaching all the other cars, so I assumed he would feel offended if I did not ask them for a ride as well. How right I was! They were only going half the way, though, to Davenport and not Santa Cruz, but when I said: “Nah… ideally I want to go all the way”, the disappointment in their faces was so apparent that I just jumped in. Asking for another ride from Davenport would at least give me more opportunity to practice and improve my hitch-hiking skills.

Getting away from there turned out trickier than expected. Either people were not going to Santa Cruz or they did not look like the kind of people I wanted to go with or they were to preoccupied with the cluttered traffic. I had to rethink my strategy.

I looked down. I saw my right thumb.

“Let’s use this thing – in a smart way!” I said to myself.

I identified a woman in a car on the other side of the road, just about to pull out, direction Santa Cruz. I made vigorous eye contact. I raised my thumb towards her. She knew I meant her, she could not ignore me.

She stopped. “Are you going to Santa Cruz?”

The answer was yes. I hopped in.

“I never pick up any hitch-hikers when I am driving alone or when I have my little girls with me”, she pointed to the back seat, “but you looked like a friend of mine”.

What followed was a lovely conversation for the next 15 minutes and – like so many times before on my trip – an overwhelming feeling of gratitude for the kindness in the world.

Catching fish in Mendocino

Very American-like my friend Andre picked me up from the San Francisco airport: with a white pick-up truck, filled with camping and fishing gear, a yellow kayak, fire wood, coolers and a dog in the back seat.

Up next: going to San Francisco to meet up with our fellow campers for the next couple of days: a cool and laid-back family of four… plus another dog. Over the course of the week I realized that it was not exaggerated to say that these guys were the most professional campers I had ever seen.

Our first break on the way took place on a vineyard, started with sandwiches and ended with a wine tasting, what else?

Due to my jet lag I fell asleep in the truck a couple of times. When I woke up we had almost arrived at our destination: Schooner’s Landing RV Park in Mendocino county. Swiftly, we unloaded the firewood and soon we sat around a solid fire, preparing dinner. Like I mentioned before, due to the high professionalism in this group, there was no ingredient, no tool, no nothing missing to make this a pleasant experience.

I slept very well in my tent, protected by the two dogs and in the company of these experienced campers. The only thing that caught my attention during the night were raindrops…. Consequently, we woke up more or less damp. This did not discourage the group however to get the fishing day started. The adventurous alpha males in our group prepared their kayaks …

… and off they went, swallowed by the fog just moments later.

Women, kids and dogs stayed on the shore, talking, running, chilling, eating, watching seals, dolphins, birds and the other fishing folks around us. After more than half a year of travelling in India, Southeast Asia and Australia, I also discovered the most nauseating toilet on my whole trip, here in the USA, who would have guessed.

After 4 hours of waiting we women started making assumptions why the men were taking so long…. maybe they were really unlucky and did not catch any fish and that’s why they kept on trying and trying because they would be too embarrassed to return empty-handed… that’s when they appeared as little dots in the fog. Soon we learnt that they had been very successful and just could not stop. Quite surprising how big the fish are, swimming right there in California, indeed! Back at the camp I watched how to remove fish guts. If I ever end up on an island, forced to do that by myself to survive, I now have an idea what needs to be done.

The next day, we spent in the beautiful little town of Mendocino, visiting a hot tub place, followed by another very, very successful fishing day. Here you see the men cleaning something that looked like red snappers.

We left the fish camp and spent our last night in a state park called Hendy Woods surrounded by mighty redwood trees.

Moving on to Andre’s residence in Santa Cruz county, I was full with new enthusiasm for this simple, yet intriguing way of life.

Time travel to Los Angeles

My plane from Sydney departed at 9.50 AM in the morning. I had informed my AirBnB host in LA that I would arrive at 6.30 PM.

When the airline crew announced the meal service it dawned on me that it was obviously not one of my brightest moment when I had interpreted the time “6.30” on the itinerary.

“We will serve lunch and dinner, followed by a quiet time during which we’ll switch of the lights, followed by a breakfast before we start our descent into Los Angeles.”

Breakfast in the evening… that’s usually not what airlines do… Ok, so I was basically travelling into the past!! Starting at 9.50 in the morning and arriving at 6.30 in the morning the same day!! Mind-blowing! Probably the longest 9th of August I would ever experience in my life. I was amazed and embarrassed at the same time. Also a bit worried just in case this would cause any inconvenience for my host. I calmed myself down by assuming that people who engage in the AirBnB business must love dealing with challenges that occur due to all the unforeseen things that can happen on a trip – like a plane arriving 12 hours earlier.

I watched three movies – it started somewhat intellectual with “Wild” – Reese Witherspoon hiking the Pacific Crest Trail from Mexico to Canada and ended less intellectual with “Horrible Bosses 2”. I forgot the one in the middle.

The flight was over too soon – already after 12 hours 50 minutes – I could have watched even more than those three, my brain capacity would have allowed approximately another two.

Also immigration and customs in LA were incredibly quick (self-service at the kiosk, hello, you brave new world!) – it took me less than 1 hour from landing to taking my first breath of fresh LA air. A special surprise: the immigration officer’s kindness.

“What brings you to the US?”

“I am traveling around the world and the US was on the way.”

“Oh nice, how long are you planning to stay?”

“Just two weeks and then I’ll go up to Canada.”

“Sounds good, have fun and safe travels!”

That was it? Wow!

My AirBnB host Greg – a retired mechanical engineer who’s son had just moved out of his house – turned out to be the greatest AirBnB host on planet earth. He picked me up from LAX 12 hours early and made only little fun of me, took me to Venice Beach for lunch (kale salad!), to the mall so that I could purchase yet another SIM card and on a walk with his dog Diamond in the hills of LA. In the evening we ordered pizza and made a fire in his garden while having the greatest conversation about life and other things you can possibly have with a person you know only a few hours.

This unexpected day in LA turned out to be a real gift.

Early the next morning Greg took me to the airport again and I made my way to San Francisco this time to meet my Californian friend Andre, who I had met a few months before in Bali.

Last highlights in Australia

When my plane approached Sydney from Queensland, I was once again stunned with Sydney’s beauty from above. These colours, the ocean, the beaches, the cliffs, the Harbour Bridge, these picture-perfect skyscrapers of the CBD, the little boats all over the place… So beautiful that it almost looked unreal. The aircraft took a few loops and I spotted an area south of Sydney which I had seen on the map before, but not explored on my own before: the Royal National Park. Looking at the cliffs and the bushland, I immediately knew I had to go there.

Back at my sister’s I researched the different hiking options through the park and very soon came up with the idea to hike the Coast track which goes from the top to the bottom and is recommended as a 2-day hike with roughly 30 km to walk.

I had done 30 km hikes in one day before, so that was exactly what I wanted to do – although people online said this would resemble a boot camp and not a hike. To get to the trail head early, I booked a night in a hostel in Cronulla – the closest place to the ferry which would take me to Bundeena, the start of the hike. Unbelievable but true, this hostel – Cronulla Beach – was the first YHA hostel on my trip. Unusal for a YHA, this one targets long-term backpackers aka work-and-travel folks. Normally, you’re not allowed to stay longer than 2 weeks. As a result, the rooms were pretty messy, but the inhabitants were simply adorable. I shared a 6-bed female dorm with a German and an Australian chick and also got to know a couple of other people during communal dinner in the kitchen. Fun fact, almost everybody worked in a fudge factory and I learnt that the boys pretty much got all of their calories from consuming the pieces of fudge they got for free. They still looked somewhat healthy though.

The German chick had her American boyfriend visiting during the night – hell, I would never be able to share those tiny beds with somebody, even if I loved that someone very much – but I did not even need the ear plugs, thank god!
In the morning at 5.30 am the hostel woke up. Another good day to make fudge! Or, in my case, a good day to do a boot camp hike. I filled up all my water bottles. And I brought plenty! I am not sure when I had developed this – maybe in a previous life? – but I have a deeply rooted strange anxiety in me of getting lost on hikes and then die of thirst. That’s why I always carry more water with me than necessary. With 7 litres of finest Australian tab water I rushed to the best coffee shop in town to get my daily dose of caffeine and then swiftly proceeded to the marina not to miss the ferry at 6.30 am. At that time – surprise, surprise – I was the only passenger wanting to go to Bundeena.

On board, I witnessed the sun rising. I knew: “This day will be a good day”.

On the other side, I identified the trail head easily and started walking with the sun in my back.

Finding words for the beauty of this hike is difficult. I made my way through bushland, rocky areas on top of the cliffs and sand on the countless beaches along the way. Uphill and downhill. Through palm and eucalyptus trees. Watching the powerful waves crashing onto the shore, silently admiring the power of nature.

On a rational level, I had been aware that I liked hiking, but despite my tour on Magnetic Island I had not practised it a lot during my trip. Here on the Coast Track it hit me with full force: I just looooved walking (even with a painful blister developing on my left foot). How could I forget about this on an emotional level?!

I walked and walked and met nobody for the first 3,5 hours. Then I ran into an elderly man, had a brief chat and kept on walking. The sky got a bit cloudier and the temperature dropped, but that did not bother me. After 7 hours on the track, I arrived at the train station in Otford with tired limbs and another 3,5 litres of water in my backpack. Nice workout!

Those last days in Sydney were also days of farewell, last drinks, last dinners and last hugs. I tried to shed as little tears as possible, but looking at my niece’s dark eye circles because she had been thinking about my departure already during day care just broke my heart.

I left Sydney on the day of City2Surf, the big running event. On my aisle seat in the middle row I wasn’t able to catch a glimpse of it, unfortunately, but maybe it was good not to look back, but rather move on: all the way to Los Angeles.

Queensland: sail, snorkel, sleep, repeat

Cairns, here I was again – 2 months after my first stay – yet the city had a completely different feel to it this time. Walking through the streets the average age seemed to have risen by 20 years (pensioners trying to escape the colder south, maybe?) and all in all I could not shake off a feeling of “This party is over”. The rainy weather and my hostel choice did not help, either – the Cairns Girls Hostel – a rather gloomy place strangely popular with women 50+. Its only outstanding features were reliable Wifi (I was actually able to do some Skype job interviews from here that went surprisingly smooth – from a connectivity perspective) and very, very clean kitchens. First time I ever experienced backpackers sticking to the 4-step rule: use it, wash it, dry it, put it away. Why did I not check in at the Traveller’s Oasis again?! Well, after my raving reviews, they were completely booked out… seemingly FOREVER.

Cairns served as my starting point to travel south. I boarded the greyhound bus from the Reef Fleet Terminal in the early morning (my first greyhound journey on this trip!), made myself comfortable, absorbed the last impressions of Cairns and finally watched the landscape flooded with sunlight pass by once we had left the city. Australia has so many shades of green! An overwhelming feeling of “THIS is exactly what I love about traveling” came over me. A fuzzy feeling of anticipation mixed with ‘the journey is the reward’ wisdom. I enjoyed it as long as I could, knowing it would subside when my butt and legs eventually became numb from sitting too long.

5 hours later we arrived in Townsville and I directly hopped onto the ferry to Magnetic Island – the greyhound conveniently stops right at the ferry terminal. I had booked a somewhat cheap package with 2 nights in the Base hostel right at the beach in Nelly Bay. Literally ALL the backpackers on the ferry went to Base – so consequently, this turned out to be my first encounter with a real party hostel…..it had to happen eventually! Too bad I had decided to make this Queensland trip all about detox after all the partying in Sydney – so no alcohol for me. I simply enjoyed the views and went on a 7 hours hiking tour the next day – enjoying my own company – starting from Nelly Bay to Arcadia and Horseshoe Bay and from there to Radical and Florence Bay until I arrived at the “The Forts” bus stop.

Impressions from my hike:

On the way back to Townsville I met another female solo traveller and we both took the greyhound bus further south to Airlie Beach, not exactly a route off the beaten track, by the way. More and more, despite my deep affection for Australia, I realized that it had become way too easy to travel here and that I needed more of a challenge – hence new plans for another trip around the world were already taking shape in my head. I just could not enjoy the easy life for too long! Where are the squat toilets without toilet paper, where’s the exciting uncertainty to get sick or not from brushing your teeth with tab water, where’s all the sweet struggle? I know I should be careful what I wish for  – given the fact that every single time I complained about something in a blog post, my experience changed completely until the next article, so let’s see what happens. 😉

The easy life continued in Airlie Beach, a neat, artificial town where I checked in to the Beaches hostel, an accommodation on the cheaper end of the scale. In the evening I was given the opportunity to experiment with slacklining for the first time in my life. A cool dude called Andy invited basically everyone over to try it out and I happily accepted. Later on I met up with my greyhound acquaintance Lisa again and we girls took advantage of the Beaches meal deal: 15$ main + drink (I promise I only drank one beer, and well, another beer… I still consider this detox compared to my debaucheries in Sydney, haha!) while sharing travel stories.

On the next day, it was time for #thatboatlife to begin: 3 days, 2 nights on a catamaran “Wings 2” sailing around the Whitsunday Islands together with 22 other people and a crew of 3. Knowing about my tendency to get seasick, I stocked up on medicine – wise idea! We were assigned to our beds (I slept next to the kitchen in a converted seating area) and the adventure began. Lying on the deck with this sea breeze in your hair and summer tunes in your ear: suddenly life just made sense and all doubts about whatever disappear…. this is what life is supposed to be like!

The title of this post suggests something different but we did not actually sail, at least not for the first two days. Instead, the captain used the engine. I just thought it sounds nicer as a headline. The snorkelling part is true, though. After having seen the Outer Great Barrier Reef at the height of Cairns, the snorkelling sites around the Whitsundays were not a life-changing experience, but still very nice. The water was significantly colder and I chose to wear a long wetsuit plus a shorty on top. After snorkelling, the boat life continued, including a great sunset and a really, really good dinner with a special dish for vegetarians.

The following day, we got up early to visit Whitehaven, probably the most popular spot on the Whitsundays.

Some brave souls even jumped into the waves, just with their swimmers on. Later on we proceeded to the next snorkelling spot, still hoping to encounter whales, sharks and turtles…. but, not much luck!

The wind had picked up and the wind forecast for the day of the return to Airlie Beach was even nastier. I had looked forward to a few hours lying on the deck but the waves were so high and the wind so strong (30 knots) that we had to stay in the back of the boat, focussing the horizon in a desperate attempt not to get seasick. And: as long as I didn’t go under deck it worked for me. It was even a little bit of fun, standing there and getting splashes of water into my face repeatedly. Wet, exhausted, but happy we arrived back in Airlie Beach, now with the ground moving under our feet.

A relaxed evening run along the bay at sunset rounded of my stay in Airlie Beach.

Tigerair took me back to Sydney the following day. My final 10 days in Australia had begun.

Fighting the settler mode

When you adjust your ‘current city’ on Facebook from Berlin to Sydney…

When you start having a favourite barista and this dude knows how to pronounce your German name correctly, knows that your default order is a large soy flat white and asks you about the job you applied for last week…

When the bus driver notices that you bought a new jacket…

When you know who takes their dogs out at what time in the neighbourhood….

When this bartender in the Barbershop gives you the “You again!?” look….

When the self-checkout at Coles with a basket full of fresh produce takes only seconds because you know with your eyes closed where all the buttons for red papaya, pink lady apples, broccoli, pears and eggplant are …

….well, when things like that happen, then you are not travelling anymore!! You’ve gotten comfortable wherever you are. You have entered the settler mode!

I cannot deny: being in this comfort zone feels very, very cozy. But: time flies by far too quickly when things become routine, so I realized I had to take countermeasures. Especially now that my Au Pair replacement arrived in Sydney and I am free again to do whatever I want.

So what’s the right dose of travelling adventure after switching from the world traveller to the settler mode?

For nostalgic reasons I answered this question with ‘a trip to the Blue Mountains with an option to stay overnight’.

Wait, nostalgic reasons? Why was that again?

Well, in early 2012, my solo travelling ‘career’ had begun in the Blue Mountains. And so here I was again, 3 years later on a wonderful winter’s day with the bluest skies and the crispest air you can possibly imagine. This time around I had numerous recommendations up my sleeve from a Blue Mountains local (who had also introduced me to some hot shit in Sydney) ranging from where to sit on the Blue Mountains Train to enjoy the best views (upstairs on the left), which hikes to do (National Pass from Wentworth Falls), which bakeries to visit (Hominy bakery), what to eat (pies), where to have lunch (The red door in Leura) to where to see street art.

Seriously, who would have guessed that there’s a Street Art Walk in Katoomba?! Consider me impressed:

 

 

While hiking from the Three Sisters to the Leura Cascades, I started dedicating some thoughts to the question in which aspects I had evolved in the last 3 years of solo travelling… but then I just stopped thinking and enjoyed the moment.

After arriving in Leura, I connected with my well-developed inner voice to find out what to do next. It said: “Eat a pie.” So, I ate a delicious veggie pie on a bench in the sun. And now? Going on another hike? My inner voice said “Heck, no. It’s getting cold!” and steered me towards the Leura station to catch a warm train back to Sydney instead of arranging an overnight stay. Back in the travelling mode, I booked a one-way flight to Queensland for the following week: Whitsunday Islands, here I come! Settler mode, subside! 🙂