Author: Jill Meinecke

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A view from heaven at Haleakala

By Jill Meinecke on

I’m on another spontaneous road trip, the only kind worth having by the way, with my sister Bree visiting from Chicago and my boyfriend Jon. He’s a good travel partner because we go wherever the wind blows us. This time we’re heading all the way up to the 10,023 foot volcano summit of Haleakala on Maui.

We’re toward upcountry Maui from the center of town. We’ve already visited a bird sanctuary that was less than spectacular and a huge African tortoise named Freddie at the Maui humane society. Our original plan was to head toward Paia, but one wrong turn starts us on an incredible adventure.

Bree and I sit like dogs, our heads hanging out the window, smelling the woodsy air as the climate cools and outside is so reminiscent of fall, it’s hard to believe an hour ago we were sweating at the beach. I think the most surprising thing about Maui and the Hawaiian islands in general is the diversity of landscapes. You can from sea level to 10,000 odd feet in an hour. People who scuba dive aren’t allowed to do in the same day. You’re head might explore, or something.

Our minds are being blown as Jon drives up the mountain, twisting and turning, going up and up. The drive becomes nerve wracking and surreal:  I can’t believe we’re driving this close to the edge of a mountain with no barriers or guard rails. Another thing to love about Hawaii is that you can do just about anything at your own risk. Want to hike to the lava flow in the middle of the night on Big Island? Go for it. There’s no gates holding you back. Want to scale a cliff? It’s all you. Climb a triple-tiered slippery-as-hell waterfall? If you can hack it, why not?

Going up!

This time Hawaii beckons us up toward Haleakala’s summit, part of a national park. Just when I think we can’t possibly go any further up, since, jeez, we’re already in the clouds, we pull up to the booth to pay the ranger our $10 admission fee.

“Welcome folks. The visitor center is just ahead and it’s about another 40 minutes to the summit up the mountain,” the ranger says nonchalantly.

I’m usually not a nervous traveler. I’ve gone ’round the world solo, but somehow driving on the edge of the world, and on the edge of reason, along this 2 way road full of dangerous, sometimes blind switchbacks, above the clouds is enough to make me sit on my hands and sweat.

What is this place?

Jon takes the opportunity to pretend at each curve that he’s going to go straight off the mountain. I’d hit him except I’m afraid one false move will send us plummeting off the cliff to our imminent deaths.

I envy the cars coming down. No one looks as scared or nervous as I feel. I calm down remembering that the views will be worth it. We see some hiking trails and a few nene (Hawaiian goose) crossing the road.

Soon we are truly above the clouds. We’ve traveled 1/3 of a commercial airline’s cruising altitude…by car. A little short of breath and freezing (since impromptu road trips to different climates rarely means being prepared with hoodies or fleeces), we get out of the car and observe Mars.

The crater

Haleakala hasn’t erupted since 1790 and technically lies dormant. The mountain itself comprises 75 percent of Maui’s total landmass. The past few years there have been earthquakes and there’s rumors that the sleeping “House of the Sun” (Halekala’s translation) may rouse and flow once more.

We traveled there around sunset which was a fantastic view, the clouds painted the beautiful colors of twilight. Sunrise is a very popular time, and some heighten watching the sun rise from behind the clouds to a religious experience.

The descent

Either way, sunrise, sunset, to see some nene, roaming cows, feasting your eyes on a veritable alien landscape, or just to say you survived the drive, Haleakala is one of the must-dos on Maui.

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Ten things I love about Hawaii

By Jill Meinecke on

It’s no secret that basically all I do is gush about life in Hawaii. Is it really THAT good? To me, yes! Everyday I have a moment of blissful adoration for Maui, whether it be an amazing sunset I catch, a view of the mountains at just the right light, or a “Try Go Slow, Kids at Play…Mahalo” sign. What is it about this place that is so special?

It’s probably the food.

Among other reasons, I’ve comprised a list of 10 things I absolutely love about Hawaii, in no particular order. I know I can come up with many more…perhaps this will become a series of posts to come.

1. Always having dirty feet: No matter what I do to try to keep my feet clean, they always end up tracking some dirt or sand into the house. I think my heel is permasealed with dirt. Hey, in a place you can go practically anywhere barefoot, it’s liberating to go sans-shoes once in a while!

2. Wild chickens, roosters and peacocks roam around everywhere: I thought that chickens just lived in the country, but it turns out that even the suburban areas of Maui  have roosters crowing at the crack of dawn, running across the street whenever they want and basically just living the chicken life (aka the goooood life) here in Hawaii.

3. The Hawaiian tradition to remove your slippahs and shoes before entering the house: This is one of my favorite Hawaiian traditions brought by the Japanese plantation workers back in the day. You know the party is bumpin’ when you see a pile of 30 plus slippahs (sandals) and shoes outside the door. While house hunting, I met with a realtor who took off his dress shoes before entering any of the properties he showed us. That’s life in Hawaii…respecting your living space and leaving the outside outside (as much as possible since you’re likely to have dirty feet).

4. It’s legal, acceptable and FUN to ride in the back of trucks: Some of the most fun I’ve ever had was hitching rides in the back of pick-up trucks…Windy, rainy? Who cares? Sitting on a wheel well, cruising in the back while you’re being driven through a winding gulch is better and more beautiful than any roller coaster I’ve ever been on. Sometimes you see kids just chilling in the back of trucks or people parked up at the beach sitting in their beach chairs in the back of their trucks watching the surf. The back of a truck is a local hangout!

I’ve probably used this photo 100 times, but c’mon..look at this fun group of hooligans! Five people, one truck.

5. Plastic bags at grocery stores have been OUTLAWED! Paper & reusable bags only: My heart melts for this one. A place that’s actually environmentally friendly enough to BAN plastic bags? Rock on! Hawaii’s unique circumstance of being surrounded in all directions by thousands of miles of open ocean means that a lot of life here depends on keeping the oceans clean and healthy. Unnecessary trash and debris, especially plastic bags, threaten to ruin our most precious Eco-system. Plus, it’s just good practice to keep reusable bags in the car.

6. There’s a huge movement to buy local, farm-fresh produce: There’s a reason I wear a trucker hat with an emblem of the Hawaiian islands, a taro leaf and a recycle symbol signifying a movement for a sustainable Hawaii. Those that live here know expensive produce and food in general is because it’s shipped from the mainland. Those that are visiting usually can’t believe their eyes at our prices in the grocery stores. Who can blame them? Luckily people are in favor of buying local, organic, supporting the farmers or even starting their own farms. I’m in the process of weeding my yard so I can plant some herbs, veggies and fruits. Though right now I’m not in the position to live off my garden, I’d love one day to only supplement my diet at the grocery store rather than rely on it.

7. The availability of good food is mind-blowing: There’s sushi happy hours everywhere, ahi poke (raw, cubed ahi tuna dressed with sesame oil, soy sauce, sea salt, green onions, Maui onion, limu seaweed and chili pepper), plate lunches with mac salad, teriyaki beef, white rice, fresh Maui Gold pineapple, huli huli chicken (BBQ chicken), garlic shrimp, korean tacos, lau lau (pork steamed inside taro leaves)…The food alone is reason to live here, to be honest.

Lau lau and all the fixings. You haven’t lived ’til you’ve eaten ono (delicious) Hawaiian food

8. Hawaii’s a cultural melting pot: I can’t get over the cultural diversity here. I love it. There’s Hawaiian, Caucasian, Japanese, Korean, Chinese, Filipino, Vietnamese, Portuguese…what a great place to live! I get exposure every day to new customs, traditions and most interestingly, recipes from all these different cultures. It’s also awesome to think that I’m just as close to Asia as the mainland, so if I ever want to vacation to Asia, it’s not an arm and a leg away. Score on all accounts.

9.  The lack of materialism: You would hardly know who’s a millionaire here and who is a beach bum. Dressing up in Hawaii is an Aloha shirt (you’ve seen ’em..typical floral print shirts) and khakis. Professionals only sometimes tuck in their shirts. You won’t be looked down upon if you rock a sarong and slippahs or drive around shirtless (guys). As far as I can tell, everyone is treated as an equal.

10. Having respect for the ‘aina: This is an essential for living in Hawaii and something I learn again and again here. To get respect, you have to give respect: for people, animals, plants and the precious land. Leave only footprints and make only memories is a phrase I hear often here.

 

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On moving to Maui and hunting for home Pt. 2

By Jill Meinecke on

There’s a magic associated with the Hawaiian islands. It’s said that if you’re meant to be here, things will coalesce serendipitously in your favor. Circumstances will iron themselves out in such a way that you, without a doubt, believe the fact that you are meant to be here. The spirit of aloha will touch you, envelop you, and deliver to you what you’ve been looking for, if you’re wise enough to recognize it, that is.

It’s been a while since my last post, chronicling the weird and wonderful tales of trying to make a home in Maui. I was on my own, putting my feelers out there and searching for direction in any sense of the word. I was tied up doing a job that wasn’t “me” and I was living on a part of the island where I thought I’d have a hard time meeting people. I felt far removed from my goals and intentions for coming here.

Then it happened: I met a guy.

This could very well be a gag me moment, but I’ll try to spare the ever-so-sweet details that might have you throwing up in your mouth a little bit. Just suffice it to say that Jonathan entered my life and helped me find focus and direction.

Jon and I on top of the world- Haleakala Crater, Maui

As most relationships happened, we met and started off friends. We were both in similar boats, just having moved to Maui, him from Utah and me from the Big Island. Thus, we began a job hunt together. We’re both in the hospitality industry, so we spent hours combing Craigslist and dropping off resumes, fishing for leads and crossing our fingers for work.

In between looking for work, we’d traverse around the island getting to know our new home, driving some amazing cliffs, playing in the ocean, enjoying countless meals out, sharing wine and strawberries at the beach…it wasn’t long before a romance developed!

Salty kisses and black sandy feet

Fast forward about a month and here we are, living in north Kihei in a green little Ohana (detached home on a shared property) right near the beach. Life has a funny way of working itself out!

Jon is a local boy, having grown up in Oahu. Meeting him was clever luck because he has this inherent island sonar that allows him to know most of the secret spots, where all of the good food and manages to talk story on a personal level with everyone we meet. What a great catch!

With his help and my determination, I’ve made a home on Maui. I found a 1989 Jeep Comanche Maui cruiser AKA Da Beast, a job, a house and a man. Somehow this all transpired for me in what seemed like the blink of an eye.

DA BEAST!

I even had a chance to visit Oahu for the first time, which was incredible. I’ll be posting more about that later.

In other words, things have come together for me. Though I’m still settling in and trying to find a groove, keeping my eyes peeled for new friends and volunteer opportunities, I have a lot to be thankful for. I know Maui has welcomed me with open arms, providing plenty of amazing things all at once, giving me reasons to stay and make a home.

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On moving to Maui and hunting for home Pt. 1

By Jill Meinecke on

This is a place of transients. Vegabonds. Beach bums, vacationers, time-share holders, escapees, the young, the restless.

The locals are kind and warm, weird and wonderful. They’re weary, careful and curious. They’re helpful but suspicious. You can see the look on their face when you say you just moved here: “She won’t make it longer than six months. Most people don’t.”

Calling around for places to live, I encounter some incredible and strange characters. Depending on what area of town I’m looking, people are all different, but I think everyone shares a similar love for the islands, the weather, the way of life.

I drive to Paia, the sleepy little surfer town on north shore Maui. I’m looking to rent a room and share a place, get to know some people. I find myself eye-to-eye with Kimo, a local surfer dude whose house reeks of pakalolo. Hey, no judgements, of course, but not exactly a place I want to call home. The house has seen better days (to put it kindly), so I thank him politely and I’m on my way.

Driving down to Kihei in west Maui. I knock on the door of a guy named Jon’s house. The floors are all torn up and it’s a certifiable bachelor pad. The room has no flooring or carpeting. The kitchen is falling apart. Welcome to the tropics.

Another place in Kihei offers no refuge. My roommate would be a 40-something shave-ice shop owner originally from the UK. Another bachelor pad. Not a bad room, all things considered..and my own bathroom! It could be nice. When I mention having visitors (friends, family), he grimaces and mentions sternly that the room would be “just for me.” Point taken.

My new job had me working from home, so I needed quiet. My boss suggested Haiku, a quiet “upcountry” spot. Very lovely, unlike anywhere I’ve ever seen, but a little too remote for my tastes right now. I humor him and check out the most bizarre situation yet.

I pull up to Sonya’s home in the hills of Haiku…it’s honestly a lovely home, well manicured and taken care of. She also owns a vacation rental that she rents out to make extra money in addition to designing homes. She answers the door, half clad, her shorts unbuttoned, her midriff flopping about. She seems out of sorts. I’m led to the room I’d be staying…a decent size but full of stuff, including a blow-up mattress that her husband and his girlfriend sleep occasionally.

“So you’re husband still lives here?” I ask.

“Not technically. But we’re divorced and he will never leave me alone!” she lamented.

Great. So I’d have that presence to battle against. Not to mention the GIANT black safe in the corner of the room.

“He’s an ex-military guy,” Sonya starts.

Enough is enough. The last thing I need in the corner of my room is a giant safe full of god knows what from an ex-military guy. I know those types and have been warmed adamantly to stay away from them.

It wasn’t until a day or two later that I found my current digs: a nice, quiet studio in the country of Haiku. The place is great except that I don’t have a washer/dryer or a stove. I cook on a hot plate and go to the laundry mat. It’s not the end of the world, but it’s not exactly what I’m looking for at the same time.

My humble abode

This begs the question: What AM I looking for?

The answer became clearer to me after spending about a week traversing around the island, meeting people, talking story with locals and feeling out the vibe. Although the west side is touristy, it’s what I need. I need a bit of a scene. I want to get involved, to meet people and friends. I want to make some connections and work on a boat. I’d like to work outside, preferably, and live close to work.

Sometimes exactly what we want is too much to ask for.

A woman named Kristy at a bar on Front Street isrestaurant owner from Atlanta and was giving me advice about being a free woman, following your intuition and scoping out the best possible scenario for yourself.

“It’s all about just riding the horse. Sometimes instead of trying to control everything, you need to let go and let things happen. Just sit up on the saddle and ride it. That’s life,” she said.

I’m going to heed that advice. I’m going to find the most ideal situation for me where I can get involved, meet people and make a difference. I want to make some money and have fun on my days off. I just have to give it a chance here is all.

The learning curve is high. This is an island, people have island attitudes. They are jetting off to all over the place, visiting from all over the world, but mostly California. Its no wonder why the locals have a reason to be suspicious of newcomers.

I’m going to prove them wrong. I want to be kama’aina (a local), to carve out a little life for myself that’s unique. The opportunity is there, I just need to go for it.

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Reconnecting with Aloha

By Jill Meinecke on

I am back island side after 2 long months of traveling, visiting family and friends around the mainland, and making a trip to Thailand.

What a whirlwind year! When I think of it all, it almost makes me crazy to think of all the times I’ve taken off, landed, stuck my thumb out for a ride (still need to return that favor when I see hitchhikers) and laid my head to rest in various parts of the world.

That’s a whole lotta travel!

With the stresses of moving halfway across the world to Maui, I have found that it’s been a bit of an adjustment to come back to Hawaiian time and the Hawaiian way. I’ve officially been here one week and I’m just now starting to slip back into the ways of Aloha. What do I mean by that?

Moving automatically makes you self-driven, operating in survival mode, ready to throw elbows against competitors and nay-sayers. I know this is the sort of attitude I developed, and I want to flush it down the toilet. I already managed to piss off one friend by calling him out for not picking me up at the airport. Though I think we both over-reacted, I can’t afford to make enemies before I even make friends. That’s not my lot in life.

Detoxing from the mainland takes some time. When I was gone from Hawaii the first time around, it took me almost 3 weeks to be born-again. I arrived and I looked haggard. My skin had faded to a pasty white and I surely put on some pounds from eating so much red meat back home (yummy but not good for my body or complexion). I was wound up from the mainland, riddled with anxiety and nerves and I was overall a big mess. I guess you can say much of the same this time around.

I have a lot riding on this move. I sold my car back home, I said goodbye to my friends and family…I jetted off into the unknown where I only knew one person (who probably seriously hates me now, but what can I do?) and I’m attempting to carve out a life for myself. For now, more question marks than answers are in front of me. I’m nervous that I’m burning through money too fast, spending more than I’m making and wondering if I’m getting the “best deal.”

But then it occurred to me that no matter where I am in life, that’s where I’m supposed to be. So what if I’m a little uncomfortable to start and a bit lonely? Worrying about making friends isn’t going to help me make them. Worrying that I won’t have enough money to survive here isn’t going to make me money to survive here. Thinking it’s all about me without counting my blessing is my biggest mistake yet.

With coming to the islands and living aloha, you respect and give blessings and thanks for everything you have in your life. You live with love, awareness, humility and kindness. Instead of worrying with negativity, you anticipate with positive energy. Instead of blaming, you appreciate. Instead of being out for yourself and your survival, you see the world with new eyes, eyes that help you see that the world is a product of your mindset. If you treat it poorly, it will treat you poorly in return.

It will take me more time still to figure out my role here on Maui. I need to continuously be grateful for all of the opportunities afforded to me, have follow through, be committed and do my best. I need to smile more than I furrow my brow, quit worrying so much, and appreciate the natural beauty around me. If something this beautiful can exist from behind my eyes, than I have to know things will be okay:

Sunset at Ho’okipa Beach. Photo by author

 

I sat on the beach the other night, alone, worried. As I was sitting there on the rocks, I had a conversation aloud with Maui about how hard this last week has been for me, and even though I’m strong, I can’t handle too many more curve balls. I  admitted that I’m lonely and constantly going over negative thoughts in my head. I promised to have respect for the island and to be pono (do what’s right).

As I sat there and offered all of myself up to the island, watching the Pacific rolling in and the sun dipping into the clouds, eight large green sea turtles began to crawl onto shore. In Hawaii, honu, or turtles, are symbolic of good luck. As if answering my prayers for a sign that things will work out how they’re supposed to, almost ten turtles emerged from the sea onto the shore to “rest.”

Photo by author

I felt so humbled and blessed at the same time. Never before had I seen so many of God’s beautiful creatures up close and in one place: and they were crawling toward me! I am going to forever remember that special moment for inspiration when times are lonely and hard: that good luck is here with me always, I just have to be wise enough to believe it.

Mahalo ke akua!
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Common Thai scams and how to avoid them

By Jill Meinecke on

Somehow I just lived through a whirlwind trip to Thailand in Southeast Asia for a week: yes a week. Between days-long flights, nasty airplane food and being dropped in another world, I was already ready to throw the towel in upon landing in Bangkok. I’ve seen Japan‘s airport. Yeah, I used the little fancy bidet and music maker on the toilet. I set foot in Bangkok. It was enough to say I did it and go home, right?

Flushing sound, sounds while…flushing

Not so. It was time to make the most of our week in Thailand, jetlagged or not.

After a not so restful night of sleep after traveling 23 hours, the girls and I sprang out of bed at 6 a.m. to hit the streets of Bangkok for some site-seeing. Our presence as Westerners must have been obvious…we walked for about 5 minutes before a man came up to us, offering us directions to some nearby MUST-SEE temples. He was even kind enough to hail a tuk-tuk for us.

Sly devils

1. Never believe that a tuk-tuk ride would cost you 15 Baht (75 cents, USD maybe?). A more decent fare (depending on where you’re going) is about 100 Baht. Our tuk-tuk driver took us on an escapade of Bangkok, taking us to various temples, waiting for us, giving us our own private tour around this new foreign city. Score, right? Wrong. Half the day later, he dropped us off at a tailor that wanted to sell us expensive cashmere coats and silk ties (neither of which we had any use for, by the way, it being 100 degrees and muggy outside). When we refused to buy anything, he insulted us and basically chased us out of the shop. The driver guilted us and said that if we bought something, he’d get gasoline coupons. We tried to appreciate his honesty (even if it was after the fact) and paid him normal fare instead being dragged around town to gem and tailor shops so that he could gain commission.

2. A taxi ride from the airport is not 1,000 Baht, contrary to jetlagged-melted-brain belief. A much fairer and common rate is 400 Baht. Always go to the taxi stand and have a taxi that is METERED take you on your journey. It’s so much cheaper. And it’s illegal in Thailand for taxi drivers to pick up fares without using a meter. A metered Thai taxi is your friend. Remember it.

Tuk-tuk, motorbike, taxi? There’s many ways to get around in Thailand

2. Haggle the shit out of your vendor for a better price. If it’s not low enough, walk away. I had a woman offer to sell me a deck of cards and dice for an outrageous 1600 Baht. That’s about $45 dollars! It’s clearly a joke and they expect you to haggle with them. The common rule of thumb is offer 1/3 of the asking price. If they deny it, start walking away. Then they usually ask, “How much you pay?” Now we’re talking.

Do it right? Mad loot.

3. Whatever you do, don’t book your side trips through the agency T.A.T. Luckily we booked through a different agency, but we we warned against the inherently evil and malicious T.A.T. “They’ll eat your firstborn!” they warned. “They want your blood!” our concierge bemoaned. Not really, but we were told some horror stories about people being charged upwards of 4 times the amount it really costs for train transport, tours and accommodations on islands like Koh Samui and Koh Phangnan. Best said: do your homework. Don’t listen to strangers off the street who want you to spend money. And be wise with your cash! No refunds!

All in all, these scams weren’t dangerous, just annoying. A small blip in an otherwise amazing trip!

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Is the American Dream really a nightmare?

By Jill Meinecke on

Uh oh.

The fun and games are almost over. My year on the road is officially coming to a close.

This year has given me a lot of time to contemplate the kind of life I want to live and I delved into many living situations to find out which best suits me.

I’ve surfed couches, beds, blow-up mattresses and tents. I’ve lived in cities, jungles and just about everywhere in between.

As far as what’s best, no place is “better” than any other. But I think there are certain ways of living that reflect more mainstream America ideals, such as life in the suburbs.

I just came from the land of aloha and my heart and mind is open to tolerating all walks of life, all professions and all sorts of different people. But one thing I can’t stand is the mindless ideal of the “American Dream.”

Talking with my friend Monica from Colombia, an au pair in Virginia, she was kind enough to give me an honest assessment of her time in America, especially in comparison to life in Colombia.

She expressed that many things in America are plastic, both literally and figuratively: that our happiness is fabricated. Our beds are bigger, our portions are bigger, our opportunities endless. Yet, somehow people are still unfulfilled. Why is that?

Is it because are arrogant enough to believe that we are “owed” the creature comforts of Wi-fi, satellite TV, Starbucks lattes made with skim milk (nevermind what farm that milk came from, or even bothering to learn your barista’s name…)? With freedom should come a certain amount of self-education and responsibility.

What do I mean by that?

How many of you know how to farm? I learned the basics, and I mean the bare essentials, of farming only 2 years ago when I started a small vegetable and herb garden in my Philadelphia urban dwelling. I lived in the city, but everyday for breakfast I managed to collect almost all of my ingredients from my garden: chives, peppers, tomatoes, cilantro. I worked in restaurants where everything was supplied from Lancaster County, PA and everything was sourced locally and home made. I became aware of where my dairy and meat came from. I learned to appreciate what it means to grow your own food instead of relying on a grocery store all the time to provide it.

I learned sustainable and organic farming in Hawaii. I helped harvest and collect pineapple, papaya, mint, mamaki, spinach, holy basil, avocado, Hawaiian bird peppers, eggs, bananas, macadamia nuts, and a myriad of other items. I know growing patterns and basic mulching techniques. I know how to weed and supplement my diet off the land. Is there anything more satisfying than a meal made from things plucked off of your own trees? Hardly.

Bounty, Hawaiian Style

Living this lifestyle helped me appreciate food as precious sustenance rather than a commodity owed to me by grocery stores and nameless/faceless farmers.

Another thing I see on the mainland is mindless consumption.

People complain about how much money they DON’T have, but continuously frequent drive thrus for iced coffees, can’t bear to quit their mani/pedi habits and buy thread after expensive thread at Victoria’s Secret. They run their AC on days when windows would be just fine. They eat out twice or more a week instead of cooking their own food. They spend money getting drunk as sin on weekends in bars where prices are notoriously high. They mindlessly consume television advertisements, sit by idly with eyes glazed watching commercial after commerical about whitening their already impeccable smile (thanks to their expensive health insurance and religious whitening regime). They throw away perfectly recyclable materials. They throw garbage in the streets. They litter.

Is this the American Dream? It sounds like a nightmare. 

Are you guilty of these things? I was at one time, only because I didn’t know any better. I spent my money on expensive restaurant meals and cigarettes. I believe I deserved a good job because I was educated, American. I scoffed at bruised produce in the grocery store. I littered. I’m not proud of these things. But travel changed me for the better.

I’m now a conscious consumer. I farm or at least try to grow some of my own things. I NEVER litter and I actively recycle. I turn off the water when washing dishes, using this Earth’s precious resource sparingly and wisely. I sign petitions again developing natural farmlands and protecting our oceans. I volunteered at an eco-hostel for the better part of a year.

Love yourself enough to love your environment

I urge everyone to look at their lives and decide, honestly, whether or not they are living the best version of themselves. Take responsibility for your life rather than expecting someone else to do it for you.

Instead of taking advantage of your liberties, earn your liberties.  WORK FOR the respect that so many people around the world give Americans. Self-start. Farm. Know what the hell you’re doing and why. Pick up a book, turn off the television and learn to do something you’d ordinarily pay for. There’s enormous satisfaction in self-awareness that money just can’t buy.

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A Day at Wivenhoe Dam, Australia

By Jill Meinecke on

We packed up a barbie, some chairs, an inflatable kayak and we were off, driving on the left side of the road on the other side of the world.

I had just arrived in Australia, my first out of country experience, and I was wide-eyed and bushy-tailed for who I’d meet, where I’d go and what I’d see.

I decided to check out Brisbane for about 2 weeks during my stay in Oz. In order to fit my budget (and to learn what was like for an Australian family), I did a home stay which I organized through Helpx. *Side note: I can’t say enough about Helpx, travelers! Don’t be put off by the subscription fee. It’s been worth every dime and more!*

I stayed with a youngish, modern and hip couple called Angie and Gary. Angie worked for the local government while Gary was a chef at a nearby college. They met in London years ago and since had traveled the world together. They opened their home to travelers in order to show Clancy, their young daughter, the ways of the world.

Meet Clancy. This girl has style!

I arrived as Fresh American Meat. When Gary picked me up from the train station and we arrived home he announced, “I found an American!”

That day I was greeted with a lovely lunch and some introductory conversations. But then we were off to explore.

Wivenhoe Dam was on the agenda, about 50 miles from Brisbane. We ended up at a place that’s actually an artificial lake, which made swimming safe (no crocs to worry about!)

A day at the dam

As Gary inflated the kayak and Clancy put on her lifejacket and immediately took to the water, Angie pointed in the distance.

“Look there they are! Some kangaroos!”

I almost fell over in shock. Wild kangaroos were galloping and bouncing about. I definitely was somewhere far away from home.

Where was I? What day was it? How was I on the other side of the world where marsupials bounced around freely? I grew up in the Midwest of America with the likes of squirrels and deer. To be honest, kangaroos are a bit mangy and not very cute.  They’re just as common as deer back in the U.S., but that didn’t make it any less cool to see them hopping around.

Straight up chillin’. Australia’s hot, yo!

Gary and I paddled in the kayak around the lake, taking in the scenery. He was very curious about me and admitted to adoring America and Americans.

“So what do you think of this place?” Gary asked me.

I could see were enormous, beautiful bluish grey mountains in the horizon. The sun was hot on my face and the sunglasses I had borrowed from Angie kept slipping off my nose. All I could conjure up was that this area of Australia reminded me of a tropical Vermont.

I think that observation amused Gary because I heard him repeat it several times throughout my stay with them. Having traveled America extensively, he was very familiar with the North east and I think his laugh was in a surprised agreement. What a strange pairing, Vermont and Australia. But what can I say? It worked.

We had a delicious barbecue next to the lake as the sun set. Typical fare was had like sausages, bread, steaks and chips.

Fire up the barbie

Shortly thereafter, I went to the bathroom and almost sat on the biggest toad I’ve ever seen camped out in the toilet. I then saw an enormous spider, the likes of something you’d see in a zoo. To Ozzies, that’s the norm. They’re just part of the Australian package.

Let it be known: if you’re weary of wildlife, exercise caution when planning your Australian holiday! I never let it get the best of me, but the squirmish better beware.

After sunset we left and I felt lucky and happy to be taken in by such a kind family who wanted to show me their little slice of Queensland heaven.

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The uncertainty of the travel flow

By Jill Meinecke on

Traveling opened up about a million cans of awesome, and almost as many cans of worms.

This year alone has been my greatest success. I conquered continents. I traveled here, to there, to here and to there again.

A lot of people ask me, “What are you running away from?”

I like to answer, “It’s not a question of what I’m running away from, but what I’m running toward.”

The line, though, my friends, becomes pretty blurred after months on end on the road.

I think I’m suffering from travel burnout.

Correction Sydney airport, home is where I lay my hat

Sounds like a pretty nice problem to have, huh?

Traveling is great and has afforded me some awesome opportunities. I burned my tongue silly on the hottest goddamn pepper in the world. I cuddled koalas in Australia, snorkeled the Great Barrier Reef (saw some sharks!), swam with dolphins, surfed wild waves, learned Hawaiian permaculture and enjoyed my fair share of California sunsets. I have juggled the most amazing friends and lovers all over the world.

I’ve seen things people only dream about. I woke up from a reality that I perceived to be my only way of life. Then I realized how much more there was out there to see. A dizzying amount of opportunities. How do you know which one is right?

Who is who?

Like I’ve decided earlier, I’m calling Hawaii my home. I’m in search of something more permanent. I loved meeting and creating contacts all over the world. I love having friends that I can stay with or call or share a memory with, but saying goodbye time and again has become so very difficult for me.

I think Anthony Bourdain said it best:

“Travel changes you. As you move through this life and this world you change things slightly, you leave marks behind, however small. And in return, life – and travel – leaves marks on you. Most of the time, those marks – on your body or on your heart – are beautiful. Often, though, they hurt.”

In Hawaii, I met some amazing, life-altering soul friends. We shared many philosophical conversations, resources, adventures, work life, the works. Leaving them was especially difficult. Are these people meant to come into our lives to make an impact forever? Certainly. How do I cope with feelings of greediness?  I want them all in my life always.

Part of my jungle family

I think it comes down to making decisions and following your heart. It was a difficult choice to leave home to travel in the first place. I remember after my going away party, I cried for hours wondering why forces were pulling me away from a comfy, lovely and perfectly wonderful support system: my family and friends. But cutting that cord offered me a million unique opportunities I would’ve never had otherwise.

Is that always the compromise? While traveling, I missed my family and friends and wished they could be with me. But I know that can’t be the case, because when I’m alone, I’m a free agent. I can re-invent myself somewhere totally different. I can go my own way without preconceived notions of who I was before. It sounds bizzare, but your reputation, even when it’s good, follows you and hinders you in some ways.

I’ve been able to let go and be completely me on the road, getting into shenanigans & cars with “strangers,” eating exotic foods in exotic locales, learning about things I might not have been exposed to before. That to me, was worth the pay off of leaving home.

Dragonfruit..tastes like a hot pink kiwi…who knew?

But now, the new experiences have become a bit daunting. Experiences end as quickly as the they began. New faces become old friends on Facebook in the matter of months, days even.

I’m ready to set up shop. I’m ready to set up a support network. I’m ready to hang up the vegabond hat for a while in search of the elusive dish-all over coffee or a beer best friend. I want a dog. Hell, I even want a partner. I want people I can look at at the end of the day, smile with and feel a piece of my heart and soul growing, rather than having to have it all torn away week to week, day to day.

C’mon, let’s share the view

After all, happiness is only real when shared.

How do you cope with the  travel blues?

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