Air.
I saw a shooting star meteor just outside Auckland, New Zealand. …in a hot tub. The following night, as a group, we saw a handful more. I made a wish. Then, unsure of the protocol with the extras, just wished harder on the first wish rather than diversifying my assets.
Fire. (Water.)
The hot tub wasn’t my only exposure to water the trip–in fact, of the elements fire, water, earth, and air–that activity had more of a [camp]fire feel to it than maybe any other. I maybe, though, want to put the hot tubs with fire because water is the category that overflows, while the others have less.
Water.
Water was where we found ourselves falling down slides (at Waiwera), bouncing on jet skis and being pulled behind them. Water was ocean trip number one with ice cream and discussions over New Zealanders obsession with twenty-first birthdays despite that no longer being the age of majority. Water was ocean trip number two where I knew I wasn’t passing up an opportunity to swim on a vacant beach under crazy round green hills and islands. Water was ocean trip number three with ‘the boys’ and ocean trip number four where my excitement was shared by hundreds of others at Bondi Beach. It was the geothermal pools, the brief rains, and the unpreventable good-bye at AKL. It was each day’s shower scheduling and the calculating if showers were necessary, or the day ahead was too active to warrant it. Time and time again I gave thanks for my ability to swim, and tread, and dive under and just enjoy it–my years out at our hometown outdoor pool paid dividends!
Air.
Air was the shooting star. It was the bungee jump that was unexpected yet all that made sense in the moment. It was the anticipation on the plane-ride there and the reflection on the plane-ride back. Air was the luge-ing and the tumbling down hills in giant translucent plastic bubbles. Air was the music of Wicked. It was the hellos to familiar faces, new ones, and those only seen in photos. Air was the girl seizing the moment for free excitement. It was the view from the boys’ rooftop.
Fire.
Fire was the bar-b-que and meeting New Zealand. It was the many other meals. …the $10 ribs, I just know I haven’t experienced for the only time in my life. It was the laughter. …the street party. It was the red wine (and the white). Fire was my mystery evening waltz with Auckland–its pizza, its lights, its reverse bungee, its feel, its past, its harbour, its underlit terrace coffee finds. It was Sydney’s many dancefloors where I wondered what would translate unnecessarily, most did. It was my toe, ripped in half.
Earth.
Earth was the caves. (although, again, some is lent there from water as it was all through spring water, too). Earth was the mountains, the walking, the parks, and the gardens. It was the photo-shoots and the towers, and the opera houses. Earth was the familiarity everything had–and the constant comparissons to the only places I’d ever been: Vancouver, Montreal, New York, Dominican. Earth was the total newness of everything. It was the school with no need for a gymnasium with an ambiently temperature-ed outside playspace. Earth was the green. It was the hills, and the sulfur smell, and the new unseen animals (and crazy plants). Earth was the spiders, and the three heads, and the staircases, and the subway.
So.
Irrespective of all things fire, water, earth, air… I’m not typing out my meteor wish. I’m also not typing how or why I think this trip changed me, and see the world differently, nor how it will probably be a very, very long time until everything I experienced on the trip gets fully processed, understood, and realized.
Regardless of the elements or setting certain truths remain: communal experiences with amazing people are good for the heart. Laughter feels like nothing else, especially so when it has been a good long while with certain folks far away. Resolutions get followed through on. Or they don’t. Wishes are realized. Or not. Over time I will probably exaggerate everything that took place these two weeks. I’ll forget certain parts. Or I won’t.
I felt very alive. …and that was the point. I feel very grateful to many. …which only makes me glad to be able to jump up and down while waving my arms over here, until others come over and I can attempt to return the favours.
I’m so glad I won’t have to look at planes so longingly now. This trip has left me fulfilled, and content, and happy… I know it will last for a good long while, especially as things unthaw.
I can’t tell you how good it was to (re)connect like that.
Joy.
(Wish.)
(A total education. …of the heart.)
