January 13th, 2018 was a defining day during my travels, for 2 very different reasons. The first, and most obvious:
Yes, one year ago today was the day I thought I was going to die in a nuclear attack while in paradise. I’ve rarely told the full story of how I felt and reacted that day, mainly because I was still a little freaked out when I wrote the blog post and especially because I didn’t want to worry anyone back home (hi mom!). The morning started out innocently enough, sitting at my computer, slowly sipping my coffee and browsing hotel listings in Maui. It was early, I was still in my pyjamas. My phone, my lifeline to the outside world, was resting on the table next to me. It chimed, that promising chime of a friend reaching out from halfway across the world. I absent-mindedly grabbed it, still looking at the 400$ resort listing that had just popped up on my screen. As soon as the message crossed my peripheral field of vision, I knew this wasn’t a normal text. Without even needing to unlock the home screen, the words : Ballistic missile, Hawaii and not a drill leaped off the screen and permanently burned itself on my retinas. I immediately thought that my phone had been hacked (this was the US after all). Concurrently, memories of a local explaining the city’s monthly missile drills, countless headlines and news stories of Trump antagonizing North Korea raced through my mind. This was it. I got up, slowly, deliberately, and went to the window. As I carefully pulled back the curtain, I was surprised not to see a missile streaking across the sky. Hmm. I guess I had some time. I quickly got dressed, grabbed my valuables (camera, laptop, purse and passport) and headed downstairs to the lobby. There was a crowd gathered, slowly pacing, talking excitedly, a palpable level of seething anxiety slowly filling the room. Yet there was no panic. Except for the concierge’s wife, who was on the other end of phone line it seemed. The poor man kept repeating, ‘there’s nothing on tv or on the radio, calm down’. I don’t know if it helped his wife, however I felt oddly soothed. I waited quietly in a corner, wondering if I should be heading to the basement, remembering this hotel didn’t have one, sending texts to my family that I hoped weren’t coming across panicked nor hysterical. 15 minutes, one of the hotel guests read out a tweet from a Hawaiian Senator, announcing it was a false alarm. Everyone quietly returned to their room and I did the same. I settled myself at my computer, ready to resume my search for my next adventure, however I all I could do was stare at the screen. After some time, my phone chirped again.
Still dazed, I picked it up slowly and looked at the message.
It was only then did I realize I had been holding my breath. And then I decided to do what anyone would do in a similar situation, after they had seemingly faced their own mortality head on: I had a nap. When I awoke, my mind as clear, I knew what I had to do. And thus began the second most defining moment of my travels. Right before receiving that faithful message a few hours before, I was desperately searching the net for a place to stay on Maui. Although I did not have an ‘official’ plan for my travel, I did in fact ‘have a plan’. I was going to stay one week on Oahu, one week in Maui then head down to New Zealand, which was in fact where I was trying to end up: Hawaii was just a convenient layover on the way. I had joked a few times to my parents “maybe I’ll just stay longer” however I didn’t give it serious thought. I had places to go, new cities to discover. However, I was stressed. I was in paradise and I was stressed. Just a short week before, I had been sitting in the plane, contemplating turning around and staying home. Why had I left again? As hard as it had been to leave in September, this had been worse. I needed to keep moving, that was the plan after all. And besides, who stays a month in Hawaii? Really, that’s just ridiculous! As I continued to peruse the different travel sites, cursing the 400$/night price tag that accompanies last-minute Maui planning, it came to me. I needed to stop. Stop looking. Stop stressing. Stop moving. Just be. (besides, I tend to be a bit lazy and I love to procrastinate, this seemed like a perfect plan). I had always told myself that traveling for a year would allow me to extend my stay when I loved a place and hurry up and get going when something better came along. However, I hadn’t really allowed myself to do that yet. So I did. In that moment, still sleepy and dazed from the morning’s events, I gave myself permission to just be. Be still, be quiet, be in the moment. Be indulgent, be foolish (a month in a resort on Waikiki beach, I mean come on!), be spontaneous. Just be! I marched straight down to the reception desk and told the stunned clerk that I wanted to stay for 21 more days!
One year later, my 6 weeks in Hawaii remains one of the most memorable and marking period of my adventure. It was the first time that I took my time while traveling: I slept in, I did groceries, I chatted up the locals, I developed a routine. It was the first time I didn’t have ‘fomo’: fear of missing out. The experience was in just being there, in feeling the breeze ruffle my hair, hearing the waves break upon the shore while I meditated on the beach (yup, and it was as awesome as it sounds). I hiked, I swam, I sun bathed, I ate, I explored. I indulged in mouth-watering ahi tuna and I cheaped out by eating peanut butter sandwiches for a week straight. In the end, by standing still, I discovered that in fact, my soul was made to wanderlust…