Malta

The truth is, I saw a picture on television once, and decided I would come here. One picture, and I was sold. The first thing that strikes me is the heat, the oppressive, dry heat. The kind of heat that doesn’t make you sweat, but rather makes you feel as if you are caked in dirt, baking slowly. I get on a bus and make my way to Valletta, the city I once saw, an image I’ve held in my mind until now. The island of Malta has seemed remote, exotic, but in all truth it’s in the middle – accessible, a blend of European and the Middle East. A land fought for my many empires, a collaboration of culture, art, and architecture. Continue reading “Malta”

Kingston

Cars speed past me, I stumble on the rocky resemblance of a sidewalk as I navigate my way through Kingston. Keep your bag close I’m told. “Hey Princess”, a guy calls to me, where are you from? He grabs my hand, kisses it, and I walk on. Sweat. Sweat is dripping down my face. I’ve not stop sweating since I arrived nearly a week ago. Jamaica is hot, Kingston is intense, smoldering, crowded; absolutely opposite of the remote Long Bay beach town I came from. I wanted to see Kingston, it’s just that I don’t know what to do with myself in this unwalkable, dusty madness. Continue reading “Kingston”

Running Mount Royal

True story, unedited to make me appear less strange, so no judgement please. I’ve just devoured a vegan orange infused chocolate croissant (after breakfast)¬†and I think it’s a good idea to adventure on Mount Royal. I start to walk up sidewalks, through downtown Montreal, until I get to stairs, a clear path up the mountain. With a burst of energy, I leap up the stairs, two at a time, taking off layers as the evasive sun shines through the clouds. The redish orange scenery is breathtaking as bits of the buildings peak through, reminding me that I’m still in a city. Continue reading “Running Mount Royal”

Montreal

My feelings always surprise me. I’ve been so ready to leave Providence, yet when the anticipated moment comes, I’m sad. I’m filled with a sense of emptiness and loss, the loss of a life and community I’ve slowly built over the past two years. The loss of a community to which I belonged. Reflecting, I board a plane en route to Montreal, fully prepared to lose myself in the unfamiliar streets of another city. Sometimes I forget that I’m connected to everything, everyone. Continue reading “Montreal”

Lamma

Anticipation. I navigate the hectic, crowded streets of Hong Kong Central. Tourists and business men alike plough through the incessant traffic. Bodies run into me as I seek a ferry escape to the nearby island of Lamma. After navigating the complex, impassable streets of the Central Business District, I gratefully board a ferry to an unknown destination, a village name, and cross my fingers I’m headed the right way. Such is life. Continue reading “Lamma”

Surf Therapy

Muizenberg. The beach town that became my home last year has tricked me. Tricked me into thinking it was the same, that I could pick up where I left off, but so much has changed. I find myself lost in thought, struggling to be present amongst this beautiful beachy community. Why am I here? I question why I came back, what I’m doing with my life, what does it mean? I look for answers amongst the sea and the mountains, my two favorite things, perfectly complimenting each other. Surely I’ll find my answers as I walk between the things I love the most. Continue reading “Surf Therapy”

Afropunk

Afro: Born of African Spirit and Heritage, see also black (not always), see also rhythm and color, see also other, underdog. Punk: as in rebel, opposing the simple route, looking forward with simplicity, rawness and curiosity, see also other, underdog. Afropunk, as in where I ended up on New Year’s Eve in Johannesburg, South Africa. Clearly, more along the punk lines than the afro, nevertheless, I randomly wandered into this music festival with curiosity. Continue reading “Afropunk”