Yesterday, I stood on a rocky cliff at the top of Mt. York, with my arms outstretched for balance and my toes not but a few inches from a sheer drop-off of several hundred feet. I couldn't see the ground beneath me, but in the distance I could see it fade into a misty blue forest of Eucalyptus trees. The air felt arid and damp at the same time; slow, strong wind rattled the leaves to make a continuous white noise, broken only by the occasional bird call—sounds I've only ever heard in Australia.
The Blue Mountains, just west of Sydney, are not exactly the type of mountains I'm used to as a Californian. When I stepped out of the bus upon arrival, I didn't look up at a mountain range.
Instead, I found myself standing on a rocky plateau looking out over a massive bluish canyon that wound around jutting sandstone formations of orange and brown...
My heart sped up a bit as I stood still there on the edge of the cliff, with nothing but a clear breeze between me and the panoramic, painted scenery before me. The view was quite beautiful, and the moment quite serene. To say the very least.
My moment was cut short by news that I had to return to the group so we could continue with our day-tour of the mountains. We spent the rest of that afternoon hiking, visiting tourist-swarmed lookout points, and learning about the history of the Blue Mountains area—including its significance to both indigenous people and European colonists.
Right now I'm sitting in my bedroom in Manly Vale early on a Sunday morning, and I can't believe it's been two weeks since I left California! Still, as is often the case when we leave behind the times we choose to call our every-day lives for the times we call adventures, I feel like I've jammed a fair amount of experiences into the last couple of weeks. These have ranged from awe inspiring to terrifying, frustrating to fascinating, and lots of ordinary stuff in between.
I think the most common excuse I hear (and often make myself) for not keeping blogs, journals, or scrapbooks of travels is that there is not enough time. In all the exploring and travelling, we claim, we don't have the time or motivation to stop and record it.
I was about to make that excuse just now, in fact.
I've hardly written more than a couple sentences in my travelogue since leaving the States; it really does feel like I haven't had the time! Between homework, interning, field trips, and tours—and no less than an hour-and-a-half bus commute to each—I feel like the times to rest and reflect are simply slipping by me...
I don't want to make that excuse though, because for me, reflection is an adventure in itself. It is the opportunity to recreate and rebuild, to make sense of some things and to wonder about others.
I choose to write to this purpose, but that's not the only way to reflect on our experiences; art, music, drunken rants in pubs, long phone calls to our mothers, or meditation would, I imagine, do the job just as well. Reflecting also helps us to remember, to solidify our memories and extricate from our experiences what we wish.
Had I not decided to sit and reflect on my experience in the Blue Mountains a bit this morning, for example, I doubt that I would have forgotten it. Still, it's possible that the feeling of awe and my vivid memory of the landscape will soon fade away—perhaps to be replaced by my almost equally vivid memory of being trapped on a tour bus with 25 other American students from my university for most of the day...
That would be a shame, because it was a lovely little adventure to remember.
...
Speaking of adventures. This afternoon, I'm using the free voucher to go whale watching that my supervisors at The WORD Australia gave me! So please forgive the typos; I've got to go!
Much love,
Erin <3
The Blue Mountains, just west of Sydney, are not exactly the type of mountains I'm used to as a Californian. When I stepped out of the bus upon arrival, I didn't look up at a mountain range.
Instead, I found myself standing on a rocky plateau looking out over a massive bluish canyon that wound around jutting sandstone formations of orange and brown...
My heart sped up a bit as I stood still there on the edge of the cliff, with nothing but a clear breeze between me and the panoramic, painted scenery before me. The view was quite beautiful, and the moment quite serene. To say the very least.
My moment was cut short by news that I had to return to the group so we could continue with our day-tour of the mountains. We spent the rest of that afternoon hiking, visiting tourist-swarmed lookout points, and learning about the history of the Blue Mountains area—including its significance to both indigenous people and European colonists.
 |
| ... |
I think the most common excuse I hear (and often make myself) for not keeping blogs, journals, or scrapbooks of travels is that there is not enough time. In all the exploring and travelling, we claim, we don't have the time or motivation to stop and record it.
I was about to make that excuse just now, in fact.
I've hardly written more than a couple sentences in my travelogue since leaving the States; it really does feel like I haven't had the time! Between homework, interning, field trips, and tours—and no less than an hour-and-a-half bus commute to each—I feel like the times to rest and reflect are simply slipping by me...
I don't want to make that excuse though, because for me, reflection is an adventure in itself. It is the opportunity to recreate and rebuild, to make sense of some things and to wonder about others.
I choose to write to this purpose, but that's not the only way to reflect on our experiences; art, music, drunken rants in pubs, long phone calls to our mothers, or meditation would, I imagine, do the job just as well. Reflecting also helps us to remember, to solidify our memories and extricate from our experiences what we wish.
Had I not decided to sit and reflect on my experience in the Blue Mountains a bit this morning, for example, I doubt that I would have forgotten it. Still, it's possible that the feeling of awe and my vivid memory of the landscape will soon fade away—perhaps to be replaced by my almost equally vivid memory of being trapped on a tour bus with 25 other American students from my university for most of the day...
That would be a shame, because it was a lovely little adventure to remember.
...
Speaking of adventures. This afternoon, I'm using the free voucher to go whale watching that my supervisors at The WORD Australia gave me! So please forgive the typos; I've got to go!
 |
| This is not the moment that I described above, but it's pretty close! |
Erin <3
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