When I decided to take a gap year to Australia after high school, I received a plethora of opinions. Some people thought it was a cool idea, but were also scared for my choice of an unfamiliar path. Others thought it was the worst decision ever and I needed to go to college right away … and I’ll probably die. However, some people absolutely loved the idea and supported me all the way, including my best friend Conner who also wanted to move to Australia. Conner and I both listened to all the advice and finally said “f*ck it” and applied for our visas.
What I learned was the people who were 100% behind me were the people I looked up to the most. My mother, my art teacher, and the artsy hippies of NWO (Northwest Ohio) were all my biggest supporters. I realized then the people who I surround myself with will be who I’ll become.
The friends I have met over the last few years are some of the coolest, most wholesome, open-minded, and positive people I could ever imagine. I appreciate them more and more with every new trip and experience. The more I travel, the more I realize it’s because I want to meet everyone from everywhere. I have to keep traveling because there are just so many people I haven’t met yet. Also, the views are pretty cool too.
This is a story about my first month in Australia as an 18-year-old, growing up extremely fast while being on the other side of the world. A time in my life that illustrated how important it is to surround yourself with the kind of people you want to become.
Meeting Henry
Six months after deciding to get our visas, Conner and I were adjusting to our new lives in Sydney, Australia. We stumbled upon a small cafe near our new apartment and went in and asked if they had any job openings. We were hired immediately, though the job was pretty awful, unreliable, and clearly temporary. Nevertheless, we were happy to have some income until we could find something better.
While working at the cafe, we met a guy named Henry from Estonia, who happened to be the same age as us. He had very little money and was in a foreign country by himself, but he had such a light about him and his energy was contagious. I noticed right away how invested he was in being present in the moment.
We started hanging out with Henry regularly, and he would sometimes stay at our place because it was close to work. We lived in this really cool building that was at one time housing for nuns and was now filled with travelers from all over the world. One afternoon we went downstairs to the courtyard with Henry so he could smoke a cigarette. On the way we walked by an open door where our neighbor was painting in his room. Henry, being Henry and talking to anybody, walked in and said, “Hey dude, what you doing?” Conner and I looked at each other for a second, shrugged and followed him in. It was time to meet our neighbor Alex.
Alex and the Painting
The studio apartment was a masterpiece shit-hole. Paint covered everything, from the bed and kitchen to the walls, floors, and even the man himself. But after meeting Alex, the room began to make sense. He was the type of artist you read about in books, with a mind as beautiful as his creations on canvas. A true nomad, he was an illegal immigrant originally from Hawaii. He didn’t have a job because, in his own words, “I will never sell my soul to make a couple bucks.”
Alex had a French friend who was visiting. He was everything I thought a French man would be: he had the accent, used a lot of hand gestures when he talked, and on that day was wearing a French beret and drinking a glass of red wine. Honestly, all he needed was a baguette to complete the look.
Alex had only one canvas, and would paint a piece before instantly painting over it with white to create another. As Henry and I were talking, the fresh white paint was close to being dry when Henry asked, “What are you going to paint next?” Alex looked at me and said, “I’m going to paint you.” I looked around the room and said, “Me?” He replied, “Yes, you.” He started painting and said, “Don’t think about making it perfect, just paint.” He flicked his wrist and moved his arm freely, with no real direction as to what the painting would look like. It was beautiful to see.
I thought about my 10-year-old self when my mother bought me some paint and a canvas. The canvas never saw a drop of color because I thought canvases were permanent and demanded greatness. My anxiety molded this idea that I couldn’t think of anything grand enough to paint on a canvas. So, I just hid it in my closet and never touched it again. Seeing Alex paint from his heart without the limitation of perfection made me feel a sense of calmness for my 10-year-old, anxious self.
He then said, “You guys give it a go, add to the painting.” Henry approached timidly, not wanting to mess it up, and added a couple of colors to it. Alex told him, “Dude, what did I say? Don’t think, just paint.” Henry smiled and then again did what Henry does best and led with his heart. We all joined in and basically made a big blob over Alex’s painting.
A year later, I ended up tattooing Alex’s painting on my arm. I thought it was a beautiful symbol of what that year meant to me: not thinking too much and enjoying what’s in front of me. That’s exactly what I was trying to get out of moving to Australia after graduation – to be present.
An Imperfect Yet Perfect Night
About a week after our painting experience, Henry, Conner, and I hung out after work. Henry was telling us how much he had been working and he finally had a bit of a money cushion. To celebrate, he bought beer and we went to Bondi Beach. There, we watched the waves crash against the rocks for hours, talked, and laughed. Later, we took an Uber back to our apartment.
When we were getting out of the Uber, Henry realized he couldn’t find his wallet. We then turned the car inside out searching. He thought maybe he left it at the beach and the Uber driver offered to take us back. Henry told us all the money he had made working was in his wallet. I looked at him and asked, “Wait, you haven’t put your cash in a bank account?” We were paid under the table, so everything we made was in cash. He calmly replied, “No, I have $1000 in my wallet. But it’s okay if I can’t find it, I can always make more money.”
Conner and I exchanged a look, knowing we would be freaking out if we had just lost a thousand dollars. For the last six months leading up to my trip to Australia, I had been constantly stressed about saving every penny. Unfortunately, this mindset carried over into my experience in Australia, and I found myself hating to spend money on anything. It consumed my thoughts and became a major part of my life. Although I still feel this way sometimes, it’s nothing compared to how I felt during that time.
We made the trek back to Bondi and returned to the cliff where we had been sitting. We searched all over with our phone flashlights, and after about five minutes of looking, Henry yelled out, “Woohoo! I found it! I actually found it!” He was grinning from ear to ear and exclaimed, “Wow, how cool is it that it was still here? I think I need a beer.” We returned to the apartment and celebrated once again.
The Lesson: Don’t Think, Just Paint
That first month in Australia showed me how simple life can be. I learned to be happy about the smallest things, that money isn’t everything, and how necessary it is to have meaningful connections with people along the way. It took me a while to fully understand, but after so many similar experiences throughout my travels, it has become clear how these beginning memories in Australia have shaped the way I live my life now.
Since Australia, I try to work for only four months out of the year then travel cheaply for as long as I can. When I run out of money, I go back to work. The 18-year-old KD version of myself would have never been able to live on such a schedule. All I truly want now is to chase new experiences and surround myself with beautiful, simple moments and deep connections with humans, just like Henry, Connor, and Alex. Looking back, this was my beginning to trust that The Trail Always Provides.
Chasing new experiences, one adventure at a time. – Flo