Shadow Jumping

Hmm, now where were we?

Oh yes, 4 shell-shocked girls hurtling down the highway, byron in our wake, the beautiful byron shire landscapes passing us by, with Sydney as our final destination. We eventually took out the maps and guidebooks and very roughly planned our voyage to take us along the coastal route, stopping/sleeping at whatever beaches struck our fancy along the way. We decided to avoid cities, stopping only in places small enough to call themselves towns. Other than beaches and towns, our only real stops were petrol stations (gas, snacks, water, and bathrooms....) and supermarkets.

I can't speak for the others, but I know i personally spent these first few days ungluing my mind from byron. My body may have been in that car, but my mind was miles and miles away, still firmly planted In Byron, amongst all the friends and places I had come to truly love. By the time we got to sydney, I had myself reassembled into something mostly like one piece. I was more or less ready to move forward, and it seemed the blue mountains were our next stop.

They were stunning. I can honestly say by now that the best things to see in Australia is pure, unadulterated nature. We stayed at the YHA in Katoomba, a sweet, tiny mountain town full of cafes, 'adventure' equipment stores, and art deco architecture. Our hostel couldn't have been any less like the Factory; dead quiet almost all the time, half empty at that, the guests more focused on planning exhuasting hikes rather than thinking about what they're gonna get from the bakery at 2am that particular night (spinach and ricotta slice, or asperagus+corn+cheese pie? tough call...) The sights were amazing, and the 3hour "National Pass" hike tamar and I took was easily one of the highlights of my australia trip so far. And I FINALLY rode a horse, for the first time EVER in my life. It was pretty cool.

One and a half days in the blue mountains proved enough for myself, Jenny and Tamar. Amber had set her sights on an ambitious 2 day hike, so she and Matt (whom we met up with there) went off on their own into the Jenolan Valley, while us three girls headed back to the coast for more beachy paradises. We set our sights on Jervis Bay National Park, and by the light of dusk set up our tent at the "cave beach" campsite, kept company by the local roo population the whole time. By this point my enthusiasm for camping was pretty well worn off, and fantasies of a nice comfy bed, mine at home even, were frequent.

That day and next were spent relaxing lays on beachs, taking slow forays into local towns for coffee and breakfast, and a hilarious rural op-shop-stop. Night two saw me serenading an audience of fellow campers as we finished off our dinner, right before heading out on a futile mission to find an open pub/bar at 11pm. A laughable venture, really. The next day we packed up and headed towards woolongong, occasional beach stops along the way, to meet Amber and Matt before continuing to Sydney, since we had to return our rental car by 10am the following morning

At some point during these ten days, we coined a motto for our trip, which has since become the motto for my trip as a whole, and perhaps my life? As we raised our wine glasses/mugs by the rosy light of dusk in the bluemountains, I demanded a toast.. I'm big on toasts.. Jenny said, using a lovely translated-from-german turn of phrase, "To jumping over our shadows" which basically means: to facing our fears, pushing our boundaries, and going beyond where our selves seem to end and the rest of the world begins.

And how.

Loving/Leaving the factory

So. After 6 months in Australia, 9 if you count my first stint, with a total of 7.5 months of that time spent at the lovely quagmire that is the arts factory, I figured it was time to move.

As a matter of fact, I'd always had 'after christmas' in my mind as a departure date. 6 months seemed a nice round number. Whatever that means. As January approached, i felt more and more comfortable with my choice because it became clear there would be a mass exodus of 'long termers' around this time; why stay if everyone is leaving? (yet again.. and again.. and again...)

A few days before christmas I realized my departure was fast approaching, and recalled that I had promised myself i'd quit a few weeks early so I could really enjoy my last little while at the Factory. The next day I gave my 2weeks notice, and was off the roster 6 days later. (my wallet and bank balance commiserated...). I had also decided that I was F<^king sick of bus living, and within a week had moved back into the campground. I became a happy full time resident of Sugoi Street!

And so began the emotional rollercoaster that was my arts factory wind-down! For a while I felt no less or more upset about leaving. In fact, it all seemed quite unreal, as drastic changes like this always do; I still can't quite come to grips with how easily and quickly something or someone can become a mere memory. It makes everything feel like it might just slip right through your fingers. Buddhism says we never really held it in the first place, and we must learn to let go. I did try to take comfort in this thought while mentally preparing myself for the separation anxiety to come. (True to byron style; when in doubt, turn to eastern religions! they have good answers AND good food!)




About a week before my departure date, a hazy veil was removed from my eyes and suddenly I saw my little world more clearly than ever before. Every tiny detail was being soaked up by my senses in the vain hope of keeping them with me forever and ever and ever. This 'letting go' thing was proving difficult! The struggle peaked during my last sunday session at Oska Cafe, where musicians (mostly arts factorians) gather on fuzzy sunday mornings to perform/enjoy laid back music and absorb bacon grease&caffeine. Every moment, every note, brought on more and more intense feelings. I tried to focus on how lucky I was that I should leave with memories like these in my mind and heart! But, alas, nothing could stop the flow of emotion and I had to excuse myself about 4 times to go hide around the corner and cry my eyes out.

(the hangover didnt help...)



Finally, d-Day came, rather anticlimactically. Spent my last evening first poking at my first-and-only-ever 2$ dinner at Cheeky Monkeys, then wandering around Byron late at night with Tamar, eating one final hedgehog from the 23hour bakery. Awoke the next morning to a very long to-do list that included giving away half my stuff, and packing the rest into a suitcase, a backpack, and a box to follow me down by post at a later date. Peppered through my tasks were many hugs, goodbyes, and last minute additions to my todo list. (Crap! Never asked so-and-so for that money they owe me! 20minutes is enough time to do laundry, right? Its never too late to make that long-promised 3dozen chocolate chip cookies.....) At about T-minus2hours, I must have blacked out, cause the rest is just a big ol' blur of reassuring words, hugs, tears (mostly mine) and car related pranks.



And then just like that, we were gone. Jenny, Amber, Myself, and Tamar were dazedly packed into the car, hurdling down the highway towards rest stops and beaches unknown, no longer under the protective wing of the Arts Factory and Byron Bay. I felt like a kite whose string had been cut;flying through random space, unsure where or even if I'd land again... How long would I be caught in updrafts, and how far would they carry me? Would I wind up swallowed by the sea? caught in place by some branches again? On I flew.