German

A few days ago, I was thinking about time. 

The difference a year can make...

It can take a frightful night and turn it into a wonderful story to be shared with friends.

Time can make reality seem like a distant dream. 

It can change perspectives, personalities and love.

LOVE! 

Time has such a strange way with love, it can hold tightly to it, or let it fly away to rest with the forgotten or unmentioned moments of your history. 

I am discussing this with you now, because I have a story to tell you. 

BOY DO I HAVE A STORY TO TELL YOU!

But, time... it's a funny thing, although this happened almost six months ago, it still seems so precious. So, perfect, that sharing it seems personal, and exciting. I don't mind sharing personal things on this blog, that's why I made it, silly!

I guess

 I just don't know how this story ends, which makes it seem unfinished. 

So, in my handmade journal that I took with me everywhere on my travels this spring, lies a story... 

A story that goes a little something like this:

This is the story of my German romance in New Zealand

I was dropped off in a small surfer town on the western coast of New Zealand. Left on the side of the road in my only pair of clean clothes and my dirty backpack weighing down my heart and my body. I had come to this small town in search of adventure and myself. But when my fellow travelers dropped me off I instantly felt lost. I had no idea what I was doing in this small town. On a whim and random recommendations I had followed the curvy back roads to here. Here, being Raglan. A summer surf town where every store closes at 4:00 and most of the houses stay empty for the majority of the year. Barefooted and backpacked, I tried my luck and asked a local if there was a hostel near by.

A New Zealand native with a thick accent told me about Raglan Backpackers, the only and best place to stay. A place that was "sweet as" And, wow, was it. As I checked in, I noticed the hammocks, hot tub, community kitchen and the gorgeous view of the bay. A sweet Swedish girl named Anna showed me around the place and curiously asked me more about myself... I noticed that everyone I saw seemed to already know each other, and if they didn't they were asking. The new faces and accents were as vast as the ocean around us. As I dropped off my heavy backpack in the 12 person dorm room that would be my home for the next week, a brown haired boy, with skin the color of cream toffee and eyes as clear and green as the deep sea smiled at me from his bunk.
The first thought that went through my head as I picked my bed and settled in was something like: "Oh, no you don't girly, not again."
As I found myself giving my heart a mental pep-talk I grabbed my stuff as quickly as possible and ran outside. Headed for the black sand beaches, knowing that fresh air and squeaky sand was the best remedy for a fluttered and cluttered head.

When I got back, his alarmingly white teeth were there again, "We're having a barbeque tonight, would you like anything?" He said in a thick German accent.
To be completely honest, I don't remember what I said, (partially stunned by his good looks, and partially in awe of his kindness) all I know, is that watching him cut up potatoes, mince garlic and de-stem rosemary was better than most New Zealand sunsets. He smiled with such ease, laughing at the little things and danced around the kitchen as he cooked. His friends and him cracked jokes in broken English, sliding back into fast German when they got deep into discussion. For the first time, I found myself wishing I spoke German. How did I not notice how sexy it was until now?? By the end of the night, I was so rapped up in his charisma, that I found myself saying that I wanted to learn to surf. Tomorrow.
Wait, I said WHAT?
Not only am I deathly afraid of the ocean, but I am one of the least likely people to be found in the water when there is perfectly good sand to be suntanning on nearby. But, with the help of my new German friends, I found myself wiggling into a wet suit the very next day.
I only lasted about 45 minutes in the water, getting pushed, bashed and shoved to the bottom of the cold, and fierce ocean... before even getting on to the board. But, I say to this day, that 25 dollars was worth seeing his warn body strip out of a wet suit later that day.

 

That night, I drank a bottle of wine, and laughed as him and his friends sat with me by the cool ocean on the path down to the ocean. Listening to country music for the first time (for them) and watching his two friends getting higher, and higher. Giggling more and more as the night got darker and the clouds passed over the moon. That night, I noticed his confidence. He sang and danced with an ease that is hard to find anywhere. We held hands for split second, then went our separate ways for bed. 

The next day, we wanted to see who would get tipsier off one bottle of wine (my tolerance being at an all time high) The whole day was spent hot tubing in the rain, playing Australian football, (which included a little bit of flirting and way too much giggling on my part.)

That night, I learned more about him than I have most people I have known for years. It was raining out, and so we sat under a porch, listening to the rain, and to songs on an i-pod and shared stories about our past, present and future. I learned that he is one of the middle children of four kids, he sang "Oh Christmas tree" in german, just the way my grandpa sings it every year at Christmas... It went back and forth like that for a long time, the deep stuff, the dreams and worries, the laughter and giggles.
It was a full moon, he kept looking at me under deep, dark lashes... I knew then that we were going to kiss. I was scared, as I usually am, that in one single second it could all be gone. The excitement, the magic, the smiles...
But then we kissed.
We kissed and I forgot my name.
I forgot where I was and I forgot how to breath.
My head floated out of my body and watched the whole thing take place.
The way he put his hand on my neck, the way he looked at me.
The way he whispered that he could kiss me forever.
My head watched it all.
And I felt like the happiest girl in all of New Zealand.
Me?
He liked kissing me?
Frizzy haired me?
He did! And we did, until we fell asleep holding each others hands tightly. Both. Because one was not enough.

The next day was another spent on the beach, me, thinking through my life (as per usual) and him, showing off his talent on a surf board. We held hands, built sandcastles, and ran down the beach screaming at the waves. Even looking at him made my heart flutter.
How did this end up happening? This feeling in my heart? And did I really just have tonight with him?
After dinner we went for a walk, he hold me about his sisters, his life and the stuff that I usually avoid talking about with guys, the stuff that hurts for them to share. Yet, it didn't have the same weight as some peoples stories. His love for his family emanated out of him when he shared stories about them, and I could tell then that the crinkles around his eyes from smiling were permanently there. We shared one last night kissing and whispering early into the morning. And then, as soon as it was here- that feeling- those feelings- he was gone. Our last morning together was spent holding hands, kissing sweetly, trying to put unsaid wishes and intentions into each kiss. Each look. As I walked him and his friends to the bus stop, my heart hurt and ached. We shared our last look and kiss on the front steps of the Raglan library. And then my German romance left.
He was gone. Gone away.

A flower for you my dear

Wildflowers.

Today I went walking. 

When I walk, I think about my life... 

Sometimes it makes me sad. 

Not today. 

Today, I realized once again just how fucking fortunate I am. 

I am seriously the luckiest girl in the world. 

I have a kind, loving and beautiful family. 

I am strong. I am confident.

I am SO blessed to be in Oregon. 

I am ALIVE. 

So, why NOT be happy. 

So...

I started smiling. 

I started picking wildflowers and handing them to people I passed. 

I started walking slower. 

I started looking up, instead of down. 

I looked around and realized, again, how beautiful everything was. 

IS. 

I love when the sun is out.

I love when people hold hands. 

I love when you can tell someone is in love. 

I LOVE when people smile back at me. 

I love doing random acts of kindness to the people who need to be reminded 

JUST HOW GOOD LIFE IS. 

Because, boy, is life good. 

Please, if there's one thing that I want YOU, who ever you may be... to remember is that.

Life is happiness.

Life is rain in the fall.

Life is that one cloud in an endless blue sky. 

Life is the baby nephew that is growing bigger each day.

And

Life is flying by. 

So

Don't waste it in misery. 

Don't waste it with sleep.

Don't waste the moments you'll remember when you're old.

Don't waste the dark pink sunsets and the sweet deep kisses. 

It's too great. 

<3 

Have a good day! 

Hiking the PCT

Dear PCT,
We are not that experienced, we are young, out of shape and tired. We want to have a safe, fun and beautiful trip for the next 120 miles. We would like to have a clear and well marked trail on (preferably) snow-less ground. We would like to get along and have a friendly time with animals as well as people. We would like to stay away from all bears and rain. We would like to feel healthy everyday, and leave this trip with new muscles and a new sense of love for the outdoors. We are so excited to begin this journey and we can not WAIT to begin hiking your trail tomorrow. Hopefully all of those requests are do-able, if not... please, above all else, keep us safe.

With much love and dedication,
The snails, Hannah, Cassidy and Christiana. 

Dear tomorrow,
Please, Please, Please be as wonderful as today. Let us walk, talk and laugh as hard as we did today. Let us feel confident as we walk down the ever-changing and ever-wonderful trail of the PCT.
Thank you for a fantastic day filled with beautiful wildflowers, smiles, lakes and sweaty boobs. It was a great day. Let's do it again tomorrow.

With love and greasy hair...
The Snails, Hannah, Cassidy and Christiana.




More pictures and writing soon!

Angel From Montgomery

I bought a used acoustic guitar from a grimy

pawn shop coming down highway 1 yesterday.

I own a fake Fender.

Her name is Lucy and she's beautiful.

She makes due with my poorly trained hands

strumming her strings the wrong way.

She sings sweet, the only two cords I know.

It was around exit 552,

That I began to miss you again.

So instead of calling you to rehash painful wounds,

Lucy kept me company as I sat barefoot in the sand.

On that forgotten California coast last night.

Her smooth wooden body held my hands, keeping them busy.

I was no longer empty. My lap was full of music.

I had something to distract my heart from loneliness.

And there in that solitary second the waves began

to make my sorrows into something to sing about.

My busy brain feels hushed for a moment.

Letting in the simple sound of a single tune.

I can hear the rhythm coming from me.

I am here... only here. 

Not all who wander are lost.

120 miles.
Finished.
I am dark.
My legs permanently look "swoll"
My hair is two shades lighter.
My stomach two sizes smaller.
I can run without stopping.
I can hang my food in trees.
I can walk 14 miles in a day with a 55 pound pack on my back.

I wrote less in my journal than I had planned.
I didn't think much about my life goals much.
I thought about grilled cheese sandwiches and hot showers.
I didn't fight with my friends.
We snuggled each night, thankful for surviving another day on wild trail and slapped bugs off each other.
We laughed when things weren't funny because we liked the way the sound cut through the silence of the woods. We ate dehydrated food and dreamed of greasy fries and fresh veggies.
We were the youngest girls on the trail, doing the hardest section of the p.c.t (Pacific crest trail) in washington.
We finished 120 miles in 10 days.
We did it.
And I am the happiest and proudest I have ever been of myself and my body.
I am sure I will write more later, but as of now... A few pictures to keep you guessing.
Xoxo

Thank You For the Comment and Keep Reading!

-->

Hello EVERYONE!

Recently, as you may have noticed, I have not been very constant in my blog writing. I instead, have been busy traveling, learning, laughing and growing. (Literally, as I live on a farm.)

I have so much to update everyone on, even those who know me the best don’t know me much at all at the moment... Seeing as how I am spending the majority of my time playing capture the flag and milking cows with campers ages 7 to 12.

This summer, like the last 10 summers, I am working at Camp Full Belly Farm.

(Located, very conveniently, right outside my house.)  Already, I have gotten to know almost 120 different campers all with different personalities, quirks and talents. 

I love this job.

It makes me yearn for sleep more than I have ever in my whole life. It also reminds me how fortunate I am to grow up with a 250-acre back yard. 

I am pretty dang lucky. 

So, this summer, along with getting back from my trip across the globe, I am being reminded of those things I hold most dear. Dogs, stars, friendships that are as strong as the muscles I am getting from pulling campers up the creek… and life. 

Recently, I had a most passionate reader comment on my blog reminding me that I should tell the truth about who I am as an individual. Well here it goes: 

This summer I feel strong. I feel cared for by my friends and family. I feel capable of leading 56 campers in rhythms and games and farming activities with enthusiasm and love. I feel confident that I can get on a train or plane ANYWHERE and figure it out by myself. I feel confident that I am beautiful, on the inside and the out. And NO words, however hurtful, and NO person, no matter how hateful, will make me think less of myself. 

This year has been a time FULL of tremendous growth for me. I have learned how to stand on my own two feet. I have learned that getting lost can be fun, because you get to experience the journey of finding your way back. I learned that I can live through earthquakes, hate mail, heartbreak and tears. I learned that although I am the baby, that doesn't mean I need to count on anyone else to live my life. 

So readers… ALL readers, “thanks for the comment and keep reading!”

Because BOY do I have a lot to tell YOU!

These pictures remind me of the STRENGTH that I felt on my trip and the strength that I now know I have. 

More pictures!!!!

Bad roommate.

I've never had a bad roommate. My last two were pretty superb and even on this trip I have been blessed with friendly travelers and hunky Germans. So, last night was a new one for me. It was horrible. It brought back memories of living in the same room as my sister. But worst. It was a horrible, no-good, very bad roommate experience. Last night I was feeling very run down and crappy. I decided to call it a night at 7 and turn in with my oranges, tim tams and the hobbit. Well, about 10:00 my roommate... Let's call him Jo, came in and started to tell me all about his next adventure, which included traveling around the south island with his "Internet girlfriend" not making this shit up. It wouldn't have been a problem but then he tried to convince me to go with them to save money. After I politely declined, he started to watch shows on his lap top. Without ear phones. Then he left. And right as I was dozing off to sleep, he came back into the room with a steaming plate of food. The smell of which began to upset my already queasy stomach. Then the chewing began. No lie, he made his way through TWO ears of corn. The sound of munching could be heard through my I-pod. He finally got into bed. (oh, did I mention he took the top bunk above me... Even though there were two empty beds on the other side of the room. ) then around 1:00 I woke up from a restless half awake half asleep state to hear him climbing down the bunk, opening the window and a bunch of really heavy breathing. Well, at first I was just curious why he was standing behind the curtains with his head out the 6th story of a building. Then, our room began to smell like smoke. My roommate Jo was hanging out of our room, at 1 in the morning, smoking a cigarette, hiding behind the curtains. If that wasn't enough, his alarm went off at 5:30 and he began an hour long, LOUD process of packing up all of his gear. My dear roommate Jo is gone now. But I have a feeling that I will remember that little turd for a while.
Ahhhh hostels and the journey bring.
Anyway. Pictures. Here are some more updates. Xxoo