Leaving on a jet plane

Geraldton –  A little regional town in the Midwest of Western Australia. A place where I landed, unsuspectingly, 3.5 years ago.  The only place in Australia where I have ever felt at home.  It’s funny to think that of all the places I’ve been, this little speck on the map has turned out to be my haven, my utopia.

Wandering around the Farmer’s Market on a Saturday morning, getting fresh produce, running into everybody who’s anybody, and satisfying my addiction for Soybean with Ginger Syrup (seriously, you have to try it!!)

Feeling the coolness of the seabreeze kicking in on a summer’s afternoon, and knowing that after a mere five minute walk from home I can be at the beach, with a kite in the air and the ocean rushing below my board (when I can stay on the board).

Cruising and zigzagging the almost-empty streets of Gero on my bicycle.

Being a short walk from cups of tea with JB, cups of coffee with Philby, French films in Myriam’s garage, or poetry and intelligent conversation at the Hermitage.

Chatting to my neighbours over the fence, or attempting French speak with the Frog Mob. Sitting on the hammocks on my patio, having a laugh with the kids on my street who know me only as “Tinkerbell”.

Being inspired to experiment in wholefood, vegan and raw cookery (and homemade pizza).

Carving up the dance floor to a visiting blues and/or roots band, carving it up with my rock ‘n’ rolling “oldies” who outdo me for stamina, or carving up the sand at an outdoor bush doof.

The sight of the Southgates sand dunes welcoming you to town, and the sight of the ocean as you curve your way down the hill at Coronations.

Being a 10-minute drive from nowhere, where nowhere is full of endless open space, fresh air, hot sun, breathtaking wildflowers, rocky outcrops for exploring, kangaroos, emus, bangarra, goats, sheep, bush flies,  bushfires, floods, and everything else that makes you appreciate and admire the toughness of this country and all that survive in it.

The countless, and I mean countless, number of people that I have come across during my time here that have brought a smile to my face. My life isn’t long enough to mention, and thank, you all individually.

Geraldton.  My home.

So why leave?  Good question, and I think it has something to do with this:

Even if we achieve it, perfect happiness will forever be vulnerable.  There will always be wrongs in the world.  In a world where I am encased in so much good, how do I stop the wrongs from spoiling the rights?  Is it even right to accept injustice in pursuit of individual happiness?  I’m hoping Swaziland might start to answer some of these questions.

And so I say goodbye to my home and the beautiful people that make it so, wipe away the tears, sit back and prepare myself for a bumpy two-year ride of unpredictable life lessons.

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Categories: Exploring | 3 Comments

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3 thoughts on “Leaving on a jet plane

  1. Cath

    Hey Isabel, gorgeous post. Best wishes for your journey and take care. xxxx Cath, Dinesh & SHanti.

  2. Lizzie

    Love it. Will be following. Anxious to hear from you just to know you got there ok…!!! xxx

  3. Isabel, what an absolutely beautiful post. It’s both an amazing, authentic testimonial about why to live in Geraldton and call for those who have tasted (or become wrapped up in) the good life to find ways to create those same happy circumstances for others. Absolutely beautiful.

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