same difference.

We're leaving Queenstown so very soon. Monday to be exact. Yesterday was my last day at the shop, and to be honest I'd started to feel mildly anxious for the next phase of this adventure. I was ready to wrap up my last days on the clock and start logging the traveling experience. To celebrate, a few of us made plands to imbibe after work last night. Leading up, I wasn't significantly in the mood to mark the occasion. I now believe this is because I'm terrible with Goodbye's and well, the drinking scene hasn't really appealed to me here.

I must say though, I sat with Brittney and Jeff tonight and I haven't laughed that hard in probably a year. I mean, laughing to where I actually noticed and heard myself - paused - and wondered if maybe I was keeping someone awake in the vicinity of our outdoor table. I truly have the most obnoxious sounding laugh when its triggered in response to something I deem hilarious.

Amid the laughter, I had one of those moments where you sort of elevate yourself above the scenario, and marvel in whatever it is that's happening. Marvel because you see, I am a creature of comfort. I love warmth, routine, lists and people of familiarity. I love my house and more over, I love owning my house and making small improvements only to make it feel even more mine. Hosting dinners or sitting with good friends for small, genuine and REAL experiences is one of my favorite parts of being alive. I say all this in an attempt to convey my original apprehension for our trip to New Zealand -a trip sure to knock familiarity clean in the face, and inevidably walk away from all the things I'd been building over the past few years. I remember thinking, This isn't me. I haven't even had a roommate for more than six years. In fact, I don't DO roommates anymore. Frankly, I'm too old. I often wondered if friends also thought to themselves, "Isn't she a little old for something like this? She's not in her twenties anymore." or "Isn't it time to grow up?"...maybe because I secretly wondered those things myself. But when I was mentally hovering over the table during drinks and obnoxious laughter with my newest friends, I started to realize something. Isn't it interesting how adaptable we humans are? In this experience alone, living on the other side of the world, Fall is Spring and Spring is Fall. We were living with flatmates who were our friends when we got here, but then we decided to move closer to town. So we looked through the ads at the grocery store and BOOM, two weeks later we were living somewhere else, with two other people we didn't know and directed to a closet full of linens open for use. Lets see, my things aren't here, namely my bed, my bike, a set of coveted pots and pans for cooking and my favorite coffee shop. However, you just sort of figure things out, find a job, make things happen and astonishingly life ends up being life, just in a different place. I guess I just found it so strange that one minute I couldn't imagine life without my classic comforts, easy friends and all that is familiar and the next I'm at the grocery store where bell peppers are actually called Capsicums and I'm heading home to make dinner with my new roommates. Capsicums? Really? Its sort of given me this reassurance that whatever happens in my life, I'm going to find a way to navigate through it. The human spirit really is resilient, and if you're open to experiences, things eventually settle into new routines and a place of comfort where you never thought possible.

So I sat there. I laughed my arse off with my new pals from the southern hemisphere. And when I hugged them goodbye I felt truly sad. An experience I hadn't really felt that invested in, suddenly felt like a high interest savings account that I forgot I'd signed up for many years ago. Interest had accrued all while I wasn't looking.