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My life is a bundle of questions that go something like this: “how much can I work?” “How much can I save?” “Where can I cut corners?”

Saving to go traveling is a lot more stressful than I remembered, and sometimes I think I am forgetting to actually enjoy the fact that I have a ticket to Europe, and that this is really happening. 

Beyond my anxiety and OCD to save, I took my rare and rainy evening off to listen to Bon Iver in my kitchen, prep meals for the week, and remember what I am really grateful for. 

#1 my rad new tattoo 

#2 the wonderfully bearded, open eared and equally as open hearted, loving man lying next to me. 






counting all the beautiful things.

My bills are out of control,

and I am barely pulling in enough money to break even.

But I have intense plans to travel,

handfuls of creativity, 

a lovely roof over my head,

and an amazing man that makes me feel 8 feet tall and overwhelmingly, exceedingly, and powerfully loved and admired.

So, I can not help but wake up feeling exceptionally grateful all the damn time. 




mid way mark

I have been gone from my Vancouver nest 3 months today, and in two days I will be halfway home. This mid way mark, has brought on so much reflection on what was, and the tornado of weeks waking up in different cities and what each of those cities brought to my soul. I am feeling so full of gratitude for each experience I have been able to digest, in each country, and in each culture. There have been moments of awe that I can’t even delve into with words, without tearing a part the simplicity of the moment into an extravagance defeating the purpose. To be in Chile, sitting with a French couple so in love, and so crazy, driving across South America in a VW bus, full filling each of their travel desires through each others lenses. To be in Buenos Aires, feeling electrocuted by the sound radiating from the drum ensemble La Bomba del Tiempo, sharing a no holds barred dance with a cultural center scattered with every nationality of travelers. To be in Mar Del Plata, Argentina, playing guitar and singing with strangers who become your best friends in 24 hours, forgetting about your nightclub plans and instead, drink in the comfort of the most simple social pleasures. To find a connection without the fluidity of language, but with the heart, in both Argentinean people, the passing of a matte cup, and beautiful surfing woman that is so lost, but helps me become even more found. The moment when you say goodbye to the girl who became one of your most treasured friends in only 3 weeks, in the streets where you met, after sitting at the cafe that you loved, and crying because you are so happy to have embraced and shared time with such a beautiful igniting, soul, but also to be separated from it. And when your final moment is her words echoing across the San Telmo cobblestone: “I’ll see you in Vancouver.” Or to be arriving in Lima, where you will be living for the next 5 months, and so riddled with goosebumps because essentially you are alone, but after one month of traveling you have learned you are never really alone, and the curiosity of what awaits is amplified by the silence of your new surroundings. The moment you find a connection to your far away family, that is now so close, and fall in love with the cousin that is now your closest friend here. To be sinking into the typhoon of lust, that is laced with all the love that you always gave, and never received, in the half way mark of a journey that started off about you, and but has become about what others have taught, shown, and given. To practice a new language everyday, and walk into a new building, filled with new education in all different ways, and find yourself tongue tied with all the new words pouring from your lips. To be humbled, by language; put it in your place. To know that just because you are proficient in one, you still must start all over in another. To know that you aren’t changed, but altered, you aren’t found, but you’re no longer lost, and you’re only half way there.