ISH

“I don’t know where I’m going from here, but I promise it won’t be boring.” – David Bowie

This is my new answer to people asking me questions about my plans. More often than not, I truly just don’t know.

While on the ferry from Wellington to the South Island, I met a guy who was fascinated by how Americans use the suffix “ish.” “You stick it everywhere. Like that answer was an exact answer. You don’t need to say ish.”

But I do need to add ish. I’m showing you the flexibility of my world. The fact that all of what I’m planning is subject to the whim of three little letters shows you that I am unfazed by the fickleness of planning. At the same time, I usually have some sort of idea in the back of my head. It’s just more realistic to say I really have no plan…ish.

But for those of you who are curious, here is my current general idea of what I am doing.

Tomorrow I am hitchhiking north for a night to see a friend before returning back to Christchurch.

My traveling buddies and I will be going to Arthur’s Pass National Park once we finally leave Christchurch. (My traveling buddies are 3 lovely Germans with a love of dancing, singing, and head massages. They are trying to teach me German. The gendered nouns are throwing me off. Like, what the hell. Why is a butterfly male?…but if there are multiple they are female. I usually just end up spluttering as I try to pronounce their R. “You don’t have to roll it. Just say it normal…Okay don’t say it like an American. Here. You say it in the back of your throat…We’ll work on it.” Insert me hissing like a cat in an attempt to make it work.)

In June I go to Tasmania for three weeks to meet up with another friend I made in National Park and to participate in a museum festival. Still wavering on whether or not I’ll join in with the nude swim on the winter solstice. Cause freaking brrrrr.

Here is where things get fuzzy. My visa expires in September. After which I am thinking I will go to Australia again to see the mainland. Or maybe Samoa. Or Fiji. Or Vietnam. Or none of the above and I do something completely unexpected.

Or go home.

But I promise it won’t be bowie-ng.

 

 

…that was terrible…

 

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