Vanuatu: I’m restless. So I’m going.

It’s hard to pinpoint the subtle background static that suggests unpredictability. Anticipation. It doesn’t brew in many places.

 

I miss the version of myself who strides into chaotic traffic to secure some dodgy form of local transport to get to work.

That person who later walks into the office drenched from the monsoon, with an early morning tale of misadventure or hijinks.

 

The suspicion that A Very Big Adventure may be close, and there is no way to know what to expect. It could be terrible. It could be wonderful. It will probably be both.

 

Plants need sunlight to grow: I need the prospect of surprise, horror, wildness, unpredictability, danger, and (if I’m lucky), human connectedness. To share a mutual humanity with people who are so very different from me, at the same time as being just like me.     Us.     People who like cats.

 

It’s been too long.

I need to seek that out.

 

Here I sit in the Brisbane airport with a moment to collect my thoughts and take a deep breath. I’ve never been to the Pacific – I’m enlivened by the prospect of something entirely new.

 

I need this. I like this version of me.

 

This version of me is surrounded by strangers in an unknown land: She gets scared, frustrated, lonely, gastro, and she misses her cats.

 

This is where she grows. She can handle anything. This is where she shines.

 

She has a coffee plunger in her backpack.

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