It's real, and it's near

It's starting to feel real. Butterflies are in my stomach. Both excited butterflies, and the omg-what-am-i-doing? butterflies. Seriously, what am I thinking to pack up myself and my 6-year-old daughter for six months and go to another country? 

Have I lost my mind? Some people have said yes. But where would be without people you leapt first and thought second.

I've learned that sometimes you have to say, "this seems crazy, and it probably is, but I'm going to not think about it and just do it."

Some examples that come to mind are the time I jumped off a large rock in the Pacific Ocean in Waimea Bay on the island is Oahu in Hawaii.

Another one is when I decided to not get a full-time, steady job with benefits and instead I pieced together a living with freelance and one-off gigs. I love it. I don't want to go back. Doing that has enabled me to pack up and head to Japan/Asia for six months. I still need to make money, but I can do it from anywhere because of what I've built--and because of technology.

I'm so excited to see what life has i store for my girl and I in Japan.

The wanderlust bug has bitten...

I'm just over five weeks away from embarking on my next adventure--six months in Japan. With my six-year-old daughter.
I'm starting to question if I'm sane. I've already been told that I'm not.
Because...
We have a 13-hour flight from LAX to Taiwan. Then another two-hour flight to Fukuoka, Japan. The longest flight my daughter has been on is three hours, from LAX to Kansas City...when she was 7 months old and I got her sleep while wearing her. Now, when my daughter gets overly tired she sounds like a fire alarm when the batter runs low. Except she doesn't beep, it's just a single high-pitched squeal. I don't even think she knows she's doing it. It's like a warning single, don't get too close, I might bite.
I might never come back just to avoid another 13-hour flight...
38 days to go.

Steve the Zebra Pigeon Feeder

While exploring Waikiki Beach this morning, I walked down a concrete (let's call it something like a pier, because it went out into the water, but it's not a traditional wood pier) pier after a long and meandering path down the beach and then back via road (I just walked have a vague sense of direction, figuring if I got lost, alll the better). Walking toward the end of the pier, a man (about my age and Asian) had one hand and arm covered in small birds. An older American man was talking to him. I took a few photos of this. The American man looked at me and asked, "You want to feed them? It's free."

"OK," I said, though I was unsure about having birds on my arm. He gave me a couple of pieces of bread.

"Put your thumb of top of it so they don't make off with the whole pieces," he said.

I did that and instantly my hand and left arm were covered with birds. Zebra pigeons he said they are called. We stood there, the two of us. Not talking a whole lot to start with -- I never like being nosy, so I often have a difficult time just asking people questions. But after a while -- maybe only a few minutes -- he asked me where I'm from. 

"California," I said.

"What part?"

"Central Coast."

Eventually, he mentioned Morro Bay. "That's really close to me," I said.

He and his wife lived in Seattle until they moved to Waikiki 11 years ago. He said he retired 18 years ago, but took his time deciding where to retire, until he realized that Waikiki was the place he wanted to be.

He walks out that pier nearly every morning about 7 a.m. and stays untill 10 or 11 a.m. feeding the birds and talking to visitors. He knows the other regulars who are out there boogie boarding and chats up with a smile all those who stop by.

Early Morning Exploring-Day 1

At 2:30 in the moring my eyes were open, my body ready to go, even though I had only sank into bed three hours earlier and tossed and turned, slipping in and out of sleep, the whole time. At home, it was 5:30, already an hour after my alarm usually rouses me from sleep.

I arrived in Honolulu last night after 9 p.m., to my hostel after 10, so hadn't even figured out where the beach way or what was surrounding me. I was ready to explore, but since the sun wasn't even peaking over the horizon yet, I promised myself a sunrise walk if only I stayed in the twin bed -- a spring digging into my side -- for another two to three hours. So I did. Every so often, every 15 minutes it seemed, I would open my eyes, put my glasses on my face and glance at the digital clock on the stove across the room from my bed.

3:04

3:18

3:37

3:52.....

Finally, 5:03 came up.

I rose, grabbed my new bikini, never worn except to try it on in my closet imagining myself actuallly wearing it on the beach...in Hawaii, shorts and cover up top, changed quickly in the small bathroom, careful to not wake my three roommates all soundly sleeping in their beds. Two of the women stumbled into the room around 2 a.m., I thought it was much later, until I put on my glasses and saw the time.

In my beach clothes, flip flops on my feet and bag with beach mat, towel, water, smartphone, pen and guides on my shoulder, I headed out. The friendly man with an Austrialian accent at the front desk gave me directions to the beach.

"It's easy, Love. Take a right out the door, then turn left at the next road and it's a block up," he said with a smile.

The beach was the opposite way that I imagined and the opposite way that I would have gone on my own.

When I turned the corner, I saw narrow palm trees coming out of the light brown sand with blue water lapping onto shore. There were a few other early birds up walking around. Probably afflicted with the same jet lag that I had (well, still have).

I stopped where the sidewalk met the sand, closed my eyes and breathed deeply, bringing in the warm arm, smelling the tropical flowers on the trees around me, and hearing the water lap onto shore. There weren't a lot of other sounds, most of Waikiki still being asleep.

I then took off my flip flops and with them in hand, walked straight into the water. Not far, just enough to feel it. People who have been hear before insisted that the water was warm like bath water. I believed them, I really did, but still expected to gasp with surprisse when it was ice cold. But I did not, because it was warm, just like they said.

I was prepared to sack out on the beach to enjoy the early morning quietness and take a swim, but overwhelmed with excitement to check out the new place, I just kept walking. I took a few photos, but just took in the sights, smells and sounds of my first real day in O'ahu. My first time, even, in Hawai'i.

I was just going to take a selfie of me with Diamond Head in the background but happened across a couple from Texas taking photos of each other. I offered to take one of them and they took one of me. Tip for people traveling solo, offer to take photos of others because it'lll make it easier for you to ask for them to do the same (or they will offer), so that you get soe photos of you on vacation that aren't all selfies.

The beginning of another adventure

There's something about sitting, alone, in a crowded bar surrounded by others sitting alone. Each of us with our own device in front of us, some single travelers chatting each other up, most  wrapped up in themselves, either not wanting to interact, or afraid to look up and connect. Or afraid of rejection, a drink in one hand, a device in the other.

As I ready to embark on yet another solor adventure, I'm questioning myself. Should I be going? Why in the world do I think going to Hawaii ALONE is a good idea? Of course, even if I talk to no one while I'm there, I need the time alone. To get OUT of my own head. Or perhaps to work out what's going on inside my head without all the distractions of my life. I'm happy with my life, but get caught up in going here and there that I often don't have the time to sit and listen. Though that's what I need to do the most. All the time especially with a 5-year-old constantly wanting, and needing, my attention. I've been finding my patience has been waning and a vacation from my life is exactly what I need. And as my professional life is at a turning point -- my publisher told me this week that the July  issue will be our last -- I need some time to meditate on what that means for me and where I need to go. I have a pretty good idea, but everything needs some sand, sun and relaxation while they work themselves out. Sure, I've got all those things at home, but I also have a house that always needs something done, a 5-year-old who loves and adores me (and whom I love and adore), and a million other things that I'd choose before me. I did comtemplate a staycation, but realized that getting thousands of miles away would be a better idea, I couldn't just head home when I missed my daughter (and I already do!)

While I almost thought I should cancel my trip (yeah, I thought this only an hour ago), I'm here and I'm going. And I need it.

Metz Cathedral

When I decided to venture to Metz, Frnace, it was because of a recommedation from my friend, Stephaie. I had other great recommedations, but I was drawn to Metz for some reason. Maybe because the others sounded German and I still wanted to a French experiece. It was more of a mental thing than anything specific.
I arrived in Metz yesterday via train from Paris. I didn't know what to expect or even where I would stay. I just went. This morning I ventured out to explored the small city. One place I wanted to see was the cathedral. I could see the top of the spires from throughout the city. What I didn't know until I got up close and personal is that it looks very much like Notre-Dame de Paris. Very much like it.
I looked around for a line to get in. There was none, but I saw people coming and going, so in I went. The inside also very much resembled Notre-Dame. The biggest difference? The number of people. There were maybe 50 people total inside the cathedral while I was there. The line to get into Notre-Dame was way longer than that. While there wasn't a lot of noise in Notre-Dame, there still has a dull hum because of the shear number of people there.
I recommend Metz as a definite visit if you ever go to France. You can see some of the same kinds of sights (a cathedral like Notre-Dame; the Centre Pompidou, etc.), but get a much more French town. Now, most of the people don't speak much English, or don't cop to it, so you'll have to know a little French at least.

French food

I am enjoying the food in France so very much, but I have to admit that I'm looking forward to being back home where I'll have more control-such as my own kitchen.
Being a tourist, especially in large cities is difficult between not knowing where to go and not wanting to spend too much, as well as eating somewhat healthy-though the last list out. The most healthy things I have had are fruit smoothies from McDonalds, and some salads when I would have a sit-down meal.
While I feel I may have gained a ton, I think it has been evened out by the shear number of miles I have logged in my feet.
Here is some of the food I have had on my trip.