Tag Archives: journal

On coming home…

In one word: weird.

There’s a rush of everything and everyone you’ve missed being so exciting, and the urge to do everything you used to do, and the hype of getting a job and a place….then a week or two passes…then all of the sudden it becomes more apparent than ever that perhaps you have actually changed…and perhaps more frightening, the notion that it might just be more comfortable to be new in a new place than new in an old one. I’d rather not know where to go in Hanoi than in the city I was born and raised in….and I surely do not want to be surrounded by 1995’s NINETY FIVES at the bar that are like so totally jacked about toonie Tuesdays and want to tell me about how they just got accepted to trades school and don’t know that Africa is a continent not a country.

I have pretty much kept Starbucks in business the last couple weeks, all the while well having already done 2 jobs, bought a new iPhone in cash, and already taken a week long trip back to Edmonton (where I went to uni). …in 3 weeks. I have been in Canada for 3 weeks. This year so far, I have spent more time in 10 of the countries I visited.

It’s a bit weird though, having the most clean slate I’m bound to have for the rest of my life. I have every choice I could want, but I want everything but to make the decision. I legitimately could go to grad school or work anywhere in the world and in an entry level position in virtually any career path. I have landed softly at home with my parents where my belongings are still in the boxes I moved them home in a year ago. I have enough in the bank to sit back and make ‘the right choice’ …

Additionally everyone thinks my opinion should either be so happy to be home and back to routine or so depressed and wishing I was still travelling. I don’t actually know where I stand. I think I’m in a complacent state of wondering. Probably a state most young people have encountered, but as I’ve blazed through the last 5 years without a spare minute or looking back, this might have been my first take at it.

Anyway….’on coming home’…it’s weird. I advise any traveller to prepare for it before you leave. I hid money around my room, bought fresh lululemon pants, and left myself coffee gift cards. Everything I would have gulped at after a long trip was there for me, and I had a solid 1500 budgeted for ‘homecoming’ just so I could be a little choosier with jobs and have fun with the people I missed as opposed to mooching (we’ll save that for the bday next month). I set myself up for it well, but I will tell you that any choices you thought you’d have to make will have exponential amounts of possibility based on things you’ve learned while travelling…and opinions you thought you had will be tested real quick. I guess in a weird way I feel like I don’t know myself because I know in theory that pre-travels Anika would have blown through 20 job applications by now, and had it ‘all figured out’….I’m not saying that I’d have it any other way, but I’ve definitely been forced into much harder choices much quicker than I anticipated.

The good news. I have great people in my life. Ones that stayed in touch and ones that didn’t really….but I gained the strength while travelling to take a stand for what friendships I value. Everyone I’ve wanted to be there has been, everyone I’ve needed has exceeded their ‘friend obligations’, and even some unexpected gems have risen to the challenge of making me feel happy to be back, and welcomed back.

I wasn’t forgotten. And as many annoying or daunting tasks that I have in front of me, that matters…a lot.



I’m sure there are big things that I’ll look back on in however many years and attribute to this [nearly] year I devoted to seeing the world. In foresight, I’m grateful because I can’t think of a piece I’d rather be placing in the puzzle of who I am becoming… But I’m also grateful right this second. I’m in the back of the family CRV driving the 16 hour journey home from Seaside, Oregon and for the first time since we first came over a decade ago, I’m marvelling at the scenery. The lush greenery leading up rigid peaks to the East and rolling hills of golden grass past the Columbia river to the West. We’re breaking the drive to two days, 8 hours a day, toilet breaks, food stops, lingering salt water taffy…compared to 24 hours with a squat toilet and Asians just a little too comfortable with bodily functions, I’m laughing.

The 8th and final semester of my Human Ecology degree was the most important to my degree. Not because it literally determined whether or not I’d get the 40,000 dollar piece of paper, but because it all started to make sense. Not to say I was in the dark for four years, but I always felt like I was going through motions, learning semi-useful theory, and doubting my post-graduation opportunities. In that final semester every presentation I made seemed a little easier, each paper contained ‘aha!’ inclusions from research done in other classes, and most importantly I finally integrated my core values with the profession of Human Ecology.

Academically it all started to mix, but that final component followed an assignment to write our mission and vision as practitioners. I’ve had jobs with a couple big ‘brand’ companies; mission statements weren’t a new concept, in fact I was sure I’d find a perfectly cheesy tag line to satisfy the passing criteria easily. But when I sat at my computer type out a simple sentence for 5% of a 4th year course, I was stumped. I felt like I had to choose in that moment what I wanted to do with my life because mission statements are goal specific. So if I chose to pursue HR it should be about recruiting, targets, development…but a position in cancer care should be about compassion, support, and empowerment. In writing this simple (changeable) statement, I felt I was choosing my career path forever. Obviously I wasn’t.

My personal values weren’t conflicted, I just didn’t understand until the eleventh hour what my whole degree really meant. If ‘Human Ecology’ were greek and I were giving you that disproportionately long translation, I would say it means ‘it’s all connected’. And when I stopped writing company mission statements and started writing my own I realized that no matter what career I was targeting it at, it turned out the same. Go figure. I strive to empower individuals and communities to achieve their highest potential through providing accessible resources, inspiring education, and being a role model for integrity. Sure, a recruiter may want to hear about my success in achieving sales targets for business versus my volunteering and understanding of families for patient care…but in terms of my personal attitude and intention towards what I’m doing, that’s all same same but different.

The last couple months of travel have been sort of like that last semester; every weird moment, accident, and world wonder fit together in just the right order for me to experience situations and meet people at just the right time so that in the end the ‘why’s melted away and my confidence that I was meant to do it all is unwavering.

I’ve been in Oregon with family for the past week in what a friend of mine referred to as a state of suspension. I’m not home, but I’m not still travelling; I’m with family, but not friends; it’s familiar, but not home. It’s a pleasant yet potentially detrimental place for introspection (…and job searching) . It has been good though, to condense my whole ‘speech’ before meeting the masses and facing job interviews.

As I drafted cover letters I found myself doing the same thing I did with my mission statement over a year ago. Using ‘organization, adaptability, cultural awareness’ on business letters and ‘empathy, understanding, humanity’ on patient care positions…then I stopped. I took a step back and thought about what nearly a year, 4 sub-continents, and hundreds of people met ultimately meant for me…hoping that it would be something a little more profound than characteristics I could get just as well from being part of multi-racial school club or petting some cats at the SPCA. What I’ve decided is this: travelling has shown me the value of an open mind and heart; an openness that empathizes with needs, appreciates all perspectives, and recognizes every opportunity for growth.

Sure, there are other great by-products to travel like Aladdin pants, bargaining skills, using a squat toilet, or knowing how to describe the taste of zebra…but in the end, even the less lame things like saying yes when you would say no, acting with right intention, letting go of outcomes, and recognizing the contentment that can in fact be found in simplicity all lead back to having an open heart and mind. I would have heard every golden nugget of advice or food for thought just for being in the right place at the right time. It was the openness that allowed me to accept, processes, and live it.

So, when I really think about it…after a month of Yoga Teacher Training, making my body (and probably my heart) as physically open as it’s ever been….it’s really no coincidence that the months following were when it all ‘came together’. Whether we realize or not, our discomforts arise from a lack of openness, in hips or in life…

Carolyn said on day one of training, “People are happier when they do yoga”. I heard it, I smiled, and thought of my own superficial benefits from practicing asana. Somehow though, in this state of suspension it has returned to me and I’ve brought it all together. You know how they say body language says it all…like if you’re standing in a circle, your feet and hips may point to who you’re most interested in…duh, it’s in cosmo…maybe right, maybe that’s the angle your blisters don’t hurt in. What is true though is that the more open your body is, the more open you are. Your posture improves so your aura can shine bright and you are open to receive the love and opportunities headed your way. Years of running will produce tight hips, it doesn’t make you a close minded person. However, in working through the tightness physically you are allowing yourself a greater range of comfortable motion which subconsciously is mirrored by the heart and mind.

So my friends, travel young…not because you can’t travel old, but because you will have that many more years to share your stories, see things more openly, and go again. And do yoga. Stick with it. Trust me.

Travel Makeover

To the popular sense of the word ‘makeover’….I’d say I’ve only gone downhill. I’m quite curious to see how I look in not silver threaded neon singlets from lululemon and with a swipe of mascara…god maybe even a nice watch…But for what I’ve let go on the outside, I’d like to think I’ve made leaps and bounds with on the inside (enough cheese?).

They say travelling changes you. Sometimes instantly, sometimes gradually, and sometimes long after the fact….The joy of travelling for nearly a year, is that I can look back and see all those changes while I’m still in it. I’m sure I will get home and things will continue to shift from my previous comforts to new ones, and people will tell me I’m ‘different’….but even now, alone, sans-internet in my room in Delhi, I can tell you I’ll never be the same.

It’s interesting, when other people leave and come back, how easy it is to put your finger on what’s different. However, when it comes to yourself it feels weird…vein almost…to think about how your travels have changed you, and it’s that much harder to see the shifts. As I’ve begun practicing for job interviews, mostly practicing explaining why I thought peacing out for a year after graduation was a good idea and what I learned, I’ve come to see how different my trip has turned out than I first expected or intended.

If I ask myself why I left to travel I could give you what an employer wants to hear “to enrich my understanding of the global community …blah…blah”….but honestly, I wanted to have fun and explore cheaply (at times dirtily) while it was still acceptable to do so personally and socially. I had no intention of changing my life or my personality. It wasn’t until I was in Bali that I recognized the true magnitude of the venture I’m on. I was speaking to a yoga teacher whose reaction was “wow, this is going to be the year you wish you were re-living for the rest of your life”. In that moment I realized 2 things. 1) there was no way in hell this would be the best year of my life…peaking at 22 does not interest me…therefore, its ok not to see it ALL, because I will have awesome years to come that will include travel all the same. 2) even though I didn’t want this to be my glory year…it is by far the raddest year I’ve had so far, and it is pretty freaking cool that I saved enough cash and had enough guts to do what I’m doing so I might as well carpe diem.

So, that all being said…if you talked to me after Byron Bay I would have been gushing with my ‘epiphanies’ on life, and myself…but now I come to you with another 6ish months under my belt. I have completed the majority of my trip, and what I haven’t is pretty much planned (for once)…so now, all those hours on planes, trains, and buses aren’t spent rigorously flipping from one page to another in Lonely Planet…and as I polish off Shantaram, all that’s really left to think about is what has been done (and getting a job…but that’s less fun).

Not until lately have I noticed my thoughts shifting from future to past, and as much as I enjoy watching slideshows of my photos and thinking of the friends I’ve made, it is a bit depressing. I am stoked to go home, don’t get me wrong…my Egyptian cotton duvet and real pillows are calling my name loud and clear…but I am having a really hard time accepting that it’s almost over. More so, knowing what ‘it’ is…this way of living I’ve become accustomed to over the past 9 months has been far from normal, but after months of resenting it, I’m attached to it.

I’m attached to the ultimate freedom to do what I want and go where I please, the constant meeting of sweet people, the sense of accomplishment after beating a scam, the fact that I can say I was at the Taj Mahal yesterday, Angkor a few months back, and swimming the great barrier reef months before that and knowing soon it will be ‘last month at work’. I’m attached to what my friendships have become, the fact that I don’t associate with people I don’t want to, and I’m so far away that it is acceptable; the lack of waste in general…not wasting money on things I won’t need…and knowing I won’t need much out of bag restriction, and the stigma of being a ‘traveler’. Most of all, that moment when you adopt a local ‘ism’ or impress a local with your cultural awareness, and you feel for a second like you are becoming a global citizen, but more so…that moment right following that slaps you in the face with humility as you realize once again how little you know about anything at all.

Back to the point….or maybe that was the point….but I meant to write about how I’ve changed…or how I think I’ve changed….which is probably, if I’ve learned anything, the opposite of how I’ve changed. All in all changed might be the wrong word, evolved or grown may be more fitting, but to which direction I’ve changed will all be a matter of perspective. I know that when I go home some of my ideas are different…so much so that people around me may be thrown off. I know that when I go back I will have to face the friendships I’ve let go in person, and perhaps most daunting to me at the moment is this notion of work. Not that I’m lazy, but more so that I have become picky. I’m coming back from travelling for 11 months, I need a job and beggars can’t be choosers…but at the same time, I’ve become so strongly rooted in what I think is important that I’m scared, almost terrified, that I won’t be able to find an employer who shares my perspective, even if part of it is that we must remove ourselves and see the perspective of others.

When I look back to October of last year before I left, it seems like 5 years ago and yesterday all at the same time. In terms of what feels like years ago, I remember being bitter that plans had changed and I was going alone, caring a lot about what people thought about my trip…mostly to justify to myself that I was leaving to spend money for a year (or two at that time) instead of getting into the workforce as somebody of my age ‘should’ be doing. I remember worrying about keeping in touch with all the people I felt I had to, I wasn’t scared…well I was, of dying on the plane because the tarot card reader told me so…but otherwise I was arrogant as hell to my travel abilities. I was all “yeah I went to Peru by myself when I was 19, I’ll be fine”…I figured I’d pick up the lingo and Asian phrases and find bargains easily because I looked local.

As per the part that feels like yesterday, I can still smell my old laundry detergent, remember the taste of Dad’s eggs benedict, and it feels like yesterday I had a beverage cup in my hand that wasn’t water that was bigger than 8oz. I remember showering and feeling clean, and walking outside without looking like I’d been swimming in my clothes. I remember being cold, and I remember ….remembering. That sense of ‘home’, of knowing where things are—not in a backpack but in a house and a city. Yeah, Sydney, Bangkok and everywhere else I’ve been have a slight sense of familiarity that could almost be home. But I don’t know any running paths the same way and no baristas know my name. I know I’ll get home and it will feel like I never left, but that everything is different all at the same time, and I think that’s what III fear most….I just don’t know what half.

Since I’ve been gone I’ve learned a lot about nothing…and a little about big things….
I’ve learned how to drink ‘goon’ straight from the bag, that if you crush a cockroach it reproduces 10 fold, that the ‘no ozone’ thing in oz/nz is not a myth, that Sydney has the best NYE fireworks in the world, that Wellington is the place for coffee….other than Vietnam (obvi), that I pick up accents very quickly, that I can indeed live without a phone, that it’s much harder to learn languages that don’t use the alphabet…or that or tonal, getting visas is expensive-and a bitch, the French only speak French, the German’s say they want to speak English but speak German, the Scandinavians will speak English, and Americans will yell. I learned not to use airport exchange booths—on that note that there are Commonwealth ATMs in Bali, to research holidays before travelling, not to get menthol talcum powder in the eyes but that it is to humidity what lotion is to dryness, find a good laundry lady and never let go, looking same same doesn’t mean paying same same, distance on a map in NZ has no correlation to time, and apparently I really like tennis. Belgians have good beer….even in Laos, put money in separate pockets to avoid actually being robbed of “all monies”, skyscanner kicks kayak’s ass, sometimes you do need to weigh time vs money (i.e. 48 hours of buses to save $10 over flying for 1), everything can be bought for a price, everywhere has a dollar store, cheap pens aren’t worth it, losing weight from the flu isn’t attractive, wearing scarves in 38 degree heat is worth not getting eye raped by creepy men, don’t require medical attention in Cambodia, always ask to see a room first, go up behind a local paying then pay the same amount no questions asked…works every time. McDonalds is truly amazing: wifi, toilet paper, 30 c cone, air conditioning, visa at no fee; Starbucks in asia doesn’t have free wifi—the 5 dollar coffee isn’t worth it, never trust the lonely planet, know your exchange rate at all times, withdraw large amounts infrequently to avoid fees, get travel insurance and keep all receipts. Cameras don’t have international warrantees, choose your moments to be that tourist wisely, make them cut fruit fresh at carts in Asia, AEON ATMs charge no fees, Cambodia’s USD atms are more valuable than you ever realize while you’re there, 24 hour buses aren’t bad if you have sleeper beds…and are Asian sized, always carry toilet paper and sanitizer, always have a scarf for chest/bum/nose coverage, new doesn’t mean clean, there is such a thing as too local. Air Asia is the shit, don’t eat on long haul transport, budget a LOT for water in asia, a quick stroll is probably 45 mins up hill in NZ, boys will be boys anywhere in the world, don’t take clean water for granted, always check beaches for clam shells and coral before drunk wandering, don’t surf with stitches in your knee, there is a point when silverescent starts to stink, per MB internet sucks balls, foam beats springs always. Of all things, don’t forget your ipod at home, you never know what somebody wants to steal, you get what you pay for applies to fake havaianas/birkenstocks, always have a a flashlight/swissarmy knife/lock, brushing teeth will make you feel better no matter how nasty your surrounding environment is, dentists are CHEAP in Thailand.

*I know that above is all commas and below is all periods…but I’m far too lazy to change it. I am also acutely aware of the poor grammar…sorry.*

I’ve also seen how privy I am to be a female in the western world and to have an open minded family that has allowed me a well-rounded and unbiased upbringing, and given me their blessing to trot the globe as a girl alone. I have realized how un worthy men are of tears, on so many levels. I have experienced the friend version of soul mates with people I’ve met for short periods that I think know me better than people I’ve been friends with for years. I know that I would rather be fit than thin. I have learned the value of my time, and the importance of not letting others use or abuse it. I have learned who my real friends are and see the superficial bonds I thought I had with others. I have learned that it really is possible to have 13kg of possessions to live off of for a year. I am less cynical, and I compensate less for my cynicism with disingenuous optimism. I believe in energy. There are more galaxies in the universe than there are grains of sand on earth—don’t sweat the small…or ‘big’ things. Even the most amazing ideas are worth sleeping on. It’s all a matter of perspective, and the more you think there is only one, the more there are. People can sense fear, so can dogs…and camels. Moments are only ever as frustrating as you allow them to be, accept what you cannot change. Sometimes even when you know you’re right, it’s easier on everybody to be wrong just for a minute. Gratitude goes a long way. Email is efficient but nothing is greater than the sincerity of hand written words. The less you wear makeup the worse it looks when you do. Some people are just good, accept that they may not be out to get you, maybe…just maybe you have some good karma banked. As morbid as it sounds, the best way to make decisions can be to consider if you’d do it if you were dying…considering the most extreme things will teach you your own priorities realllll quick. Know your own countries facts when you go abroad, hearing Americans brag that they are all the most populated, largest, and highest profit generating country in the world is nauseating on too many levels. I’ve learned that none of the world is as multi-cultural as North America, and to expect the knowledge of other countries about the rest of the world is unfair. Some books will completely change your perspective on life, others will make you sure of the opinions you already hold. Right effort is a beautiful thing; karma lies in intentions not outcomes. There will always be cool kids until you are happy with yourself, because you create the cool kids as who you wish you could be. On that note, there are times when ass-kissing is necessary. Health is cyclical, the better you feel, the better you treat yourself, the better you become; the opposite is true. Unexpected people will step up to the plate, don’t hesitate to be the unexpected person once in a while. There is a large moat between knowing and believing, typically we try to build the bridge with self-talk and faking it til we make it, but every so often life comes at you like a heard of lions and makes you leap…and most of the time you land safely, without a way back. I am most thankful for the people I loathe the most; in a world of endless possibility knowing what not to be is more liberating than thinking we know what to be. Striving for an endpoint is restricting, it’s finite, it’s in the box…acting with intention is open ended and allows possibility we didn’t know existed. When you see something beautiful tell at least one person, it might completely change their day. Compliment others. It’s ok not to be the best, and when you know you are, you don’t need to make sure everyone else does too. Sometimes it’s OK to follow the status quo. I am thankful for the safety in Canada, safety I never understood I had until I lost it all in India. Have a little faith in people; one day you’ll realize it grew to a lot of faith, and that you’re better off for it. The human race is fascinating.

I read a hand journal entry I made a few months ago about who I want to be when I’m 25… now I want none of it. Mostly because I don’t want to know now what will be in 3 years, I want what will be in 3 years to be better than me now knows exists. I don’t know much about what will happen when I go home, but I’ll tell you what I do know. I know that I will put my family and a few friends that are like family first always and make sure they know it through my actions. I know that I won’t brush what I feel under the rug for what I think. I know that yoga needs to be in my life. I know that I need more than just an income as a product of my work in order to be happy. And more importantly I know that I’m sweet, I have sweet people in my life, and if like attracts like (which I’m more than positive it does), life will be sweet too. I feel no need to fit a mold for a job, friend, or man, and gratefully I can say I am on the side of believing all of the above instead of only knowing it, and ultimately that is the meat and potatoes of what I’ve learned so far…so seeing as how I wanted to have a little fun and an authentic pad thai, I’d say I’ve done alright.