tired eyed, i wake to chickens and roosters and birds who make morning noises. to sunlight through grey clouds. and rain drops, a breeze and cars driving by. i wake, and i’m tired, but adventures are waiting!
waking, my eyes are tired. a little sore, too. my hair is a matted mess of salt and sand. and as i yawn i type methodically, as if it will spill words onto the screen with no thought at all. having just awoke, i’m not thinking much anyway. my movements are slow and meaningful somehow. like every time i breath i know my lungs are filling with air. there is something about this morning.
i’ve woken up a little just writing this. activating my brain, beginning the day. and what a great way to. i feel like writing because i know today is an important day. at home. things like this make me feel like writing. i said it before i left, i knew i’d miss things. and i’m okay with that. but i have a close knit family. so when things like this come up, it’s hard not to feel something about it. so while i’m (more than) happy to be here, i still know i’m missing an important day. but this is important for me too. so i’ll think about it with love. no regret or longing.
we’re going surfing this morning. it’s a beautiful day. “the swell is going to be amazing,” the man in the store told us as i tried on his brightly coloured watches. for a novice like me, i’m not too mad on the swell being amazing. the swell could be terrible and i wouldn’t really know. that’s the beauty of being a beginner. everything seems perfect because you don’t know any different. there’s no comparison. i like that.
everyone was on the beach this morning.
men, women, kids, dogs, drunks, photographers. a pregnant lady, a painter with an easel, a boy with a bike. couples, singles, grey beards, no beards, birds, crabs crawling in and out of hand made homes in the sand.
the beach was bustling.
people learning to surf, so proud when they finally stood up, a smile from ear to ear. towels were being lain gently, so as not to be covered with sand too soon – somewhat delaying the inevitable. sunblock smeared on the white bodies of tourists so easily picked from the locals. some wandering, some talking, some floating in the ocean. all happy to be near the ocean on an island. in paradise.
am i a tourist? no. i’d like to think of myself as a traveller. i am experiencing maui in a different way, on a different level. as an adopted local. it’s nice to observe from a different angle. as a tourist, you don’t get much from any place your in, except a hole in your wallet, an extra few kilograms on your tummy and a bazillion photos with no memory of why you absolutely needed to get that shot. as a traveller, you immerse yourself. find a reason for everything. realise things are different. but appreciate it all.
so as i walked along the beach this morning, i watched and learned and saw how (i’m sure) i would be at some points in my life. a tourist. even if not on holiday. simply coasting through life. day to day. mundane. usual. uninteresting. breathing, not living. not taking the time to stop to listen not just hear, and see not just look. and taste and smell and touch. and fall absolutely head over heels in love with everything around you.