Honesty and Observation
A local... or a tourist?
“You guys are living like locals”
How weird is that? When three study abroad students visited from Sydney that was one of the first things they said to Laney and me. They noticed how well we knew our area and each other. A lot of people have begun to notice how well we have adjusted to this new place. But, that’s the thing. It’s not new anymore. I’ve lived in Cairns, Australia for three months now. That’s 90 days. That’s 2,160 hours. 129,600 minutes. I mean, it’s not a long time in the grand scheme of things. It’s only 3 months of my almost 21 years of being alive, and yet I feel as though I have been here longer.
I look outside my smudged window every morning. I’m awake by 5:30 on the dot to see the sun climb from the bottom of the mountains everyday, knowing that it will provide amelioration to my brain. My body has learned to crave the sunrise. It’s part of me now, part of love, and part of my life. The weather has gotten cooler and I find myself putting on a sweatshirt when it’s 23 degrees outside (celsius that is). Each day it’s either Lafayette or Feeling Swell, although recently I have leaned towards my Ronan Gibbs surfboard one by the small brand. Lafayette doesn’t feel as closely connected to me here and I find myself talking about it less and less. That is until now. One month remaining and I now feel as though I am leaving soon. 30 days left on this side of the world. Three days will be spent camping with my Environmental Science class in the southwest. One week will be spent with Declan in Fiji. One Saturday will be spent out near Port Douglas for our last IFSA excursion. So that’s 11 days that I lose. Now it’s 19 days. Holy shit.
How is that possible? I feel as though I just got here. I don’t even know the Australian national anthem. I still think of it as Down Under by Men at Work. When I interact with my friends here, it feels like we have known each other for a lifetime. They call us “the Americans” but they love us like their own. I feel like their own. I find myself even talking like them. Holding an augh sound at the end of phrases and saying things like “I reckon” and “if you’re keen.” I hope that part of my voice never fades. It’s like I will always have these wonderful humans with me everytime I speak. How weird is that? I mean… it’s only 90 days.
90 days. That doesn’t mean we are locals but it sure as hell doesn’t make me feel like a tourist anymore. An interrelation of the two might be the epitome of my heart the past few days.
Every time I look out my window in the dewy mornings, it feels more normal. My heart doesn’t burst out of my chest anymore or rise to my brain. Now, this doesn’t mean I do not appreciate it anymore, but it does mean I have adjusted. It’s a weird feeling to have the unfamiliar become so familiar. Being adjusted to a place you have known for 2,160 hours. A place where you have grown to be yourself without anyone that you have known before the day you tapped down in that 31 degree weather.
I miss my family and friends. I miss Declan. I miss being in a place that I know and am comfortable in. I have found my own comfort in Cairns, but the warmth of my treehouse home will go unmatched even in this ultimate paradise. And what I have learned is that that is okay. It is perfectly normal if not expected to feel these things. Having people, places, and things to miss makes transition harder. The way that my heart doesn’t feel full by my surroundings here. My heart, my head, and my body are full of personal growth and personal fulfillment. My heart, my head, and my body are not quite full of social fulfillments.
I spent the last 24 hours alone. I talked to two people within those 24 hours. The bus driver and the lovely Meghan. Did I cry because of that, yes… yes I did. But I am a Cuban woman so what do you expect? It’s not sad, it’s not depressing, but it is lonely. And I love to be alone, but while everyone else around me was doing their thing and understanding how to live here, I as an outsider was not. This is the draw that I have with being a “local” and a “tourist.” This awkward and grueling feeling of not being understood and not understanding. It’s a peculiar feeling. Not a bad one, just not one that I myself am not used to. And again, that’s normal. If any of the few people reading this are somewhere where they feel that, talk to my parents. They will help you like they ease me even at four in the morning. I don’t know what the hell I am doing and neither do any of us, but it is comforting to know how loved we are.
There is still some confusion that floods my brain. I mean how can it not when I am here, that wouldn’t be natural or normal at all. This beautiful side of the world, god I love it… but it’s okay to feel disconnected. I feel disconnected. Then again, is there any place on earth that people can feel true association to? I mean I’ve lived in four different states and I feel a deep relationship with each one of them, although that is primarily because I was with two pillars (Brandi & Nestor) and the sun (Sōl) for the past 20 years. Now, I am alone. And the place that I am alone is really just, so far away. It doesn’t feel as far in retrospect, but it definitely can become a daunting feeling once you realize the number of miles or kilometers you would have to travel to get a hug at practice from Maura. Or to go on a two mile walk with your best friend.
I have learned so much, and I continue to learn so much about myself. I do not regret a single decision I have made, and this place was perfect for me. It wouldn’t be for everyone, but it definitely was for me. I have met some of the most astonishing people I have ever laid my eyes on since coming here. I met people who have shown me how to deeply see every part of myself and love every part of myself for what it is. Now some of you may see this revelation as “cringey”, but I see it as added peace. I hope that everyone can have this type of experience within themselves. I guess that is the upside for that uncomfortable feeling.
Cairns, Australia. Man. That’s all I can say. It will forever now be a part of who I am and I will fondly reminisce on it as an illuminating place once I return home. I will know what I learned here and I will hold that so close to me. I know myself well, and I know that this experience has shown me a lot. So whether or not I am considered a “tourist” or a “local”, as long as I know what my experience brought me is all I care about. Because well, a local is someone who exists within a place that is deemed their stomping ground, while a tourist is someone visiting to create illustrious memories of paradise. Tourists carefully pick whatever experience they desire while locals experience it all. That line. That fine line is where I fall. What a cloudy area. It’s strange, but necessary. I’d like to offer the word “observer”. That’s who I am. An observer of all sorts down here. Kind of dorky, but I feel that it works. Not fully embracing the deep culture, but keeping myself outside of that bubble of what “should be seen by outsiders”.
An observer! How remarkable and yet another brilliant definition I can place on resumes to define myself.
-Harvest