Salt Water

A tiny washed up fish on Tallow Beach. Just after I took this photo, the next wave took her out again.

I’m just about to leave Australia and it’s got me tumbled. I think it’s fair to say, I’m having a blip. Maybe it’s an every three months thing. As I think the last blip I had, on arriving in the Philippines, was three months ago. I’ll check the calendar and see if that fits. Because then I can put it down to biorhythms. Or something. Or maybe it’s the moon. Are waxing crescents tricky?

The transition between places and countries has felt at least a little difficult all the way along. But the connections I already had here, and the new ones I’ve made, just make it all the more so. I tell myself, and those I’m connected to, that I’ll be back one day in order to disguise the feelings of finality. I am hugely grateful for what has been and I remind myself of the exciting new adventures that I’m about to embark on. And I imagine Sweet Jimmy Dee waiting for me at the airport in Wellington, NZ. But until I’m there, I’m here. In a strange kind of limbo. And in a bit of a mess.

So there are endings to face as well as some not-knowing to wallow in. That darn Corvid-19 is pure fuel for uncertainty. I have booked a cheap flight out of New Zealand to keep the folks at immigration happy but I’m still undecided about where I really want to be, or where it will be okay to be, next. Malaysia was high on my list. I was imagining Borneo. Or some more Indonesia. Sulawesi and the Togean Islands look pretty special. Of course I’m thinking about diving. But I’m being forced to loosen my grip. Perhaps that’s a good thing.

It’s the Sydney Gay and Lesbian Mardis Gras today and this afternoon I’m going to take the Light Railway into Central Station to soak up some of the carnival atmosphere and to meet my close-by son for one last squeeze and to say so long. Tomorrow morning I’m taking a taxi to the airport bright and very early to board an 8:45am flight. There will be tears on take-off. A short cry in the sky is my thing.

The cure for anything is salt water - sweat, tears, or the sea.

Karen Blixen