I remember my first night in my first hostel. There was a girl from the UK in my room who was organizing and packing her bags, getting ready for her flight the next day, which was the last day of her one year working holiday visa. I remember looking at her and thinking, “Oh my god, a YEAR?! There’s no WAY I could do that!” But alas, here we are.
One year. One freaking year. Three hundred sixty-five days. Eight thousand seven hundred and sixty hours. Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes.
I’ve been saying it leading up to today and I’ve said it and written it numerous times today, but it still doesn’t feel real.
I remember this day a year ago like it was yesterday. My dad, my brother, my grandma, and my uncle rushing over to the house to say some quick goodbyes. Grabbing my 13kg backpack (which has drastically increased in weight since then) and heading off to the airport with my mom and Mark. Waving at them as I walked through security and around the corner. Meeting one of my best friends, Tom, in the Vancouver Airport on my 5 hour layover for dinner and my last pint of Grandville Island Winter Ale, with a hockey game on the in background for good measure. Taking a “goodbye” selfie with him right before going through security. Realizing I hadn’t let my bank know that I was going to be using my credit card out of country a mere 10 minutes before boarding, and frantically calling them at 11:50pm at night. Sitting beside a wonderfully nice guy from the UK named Robb on my flight, who was a circus performer and who also was going backpacking. Stealing Robb’s puke bag after 2.5 hours of straight, lift-you-out-of-your-seat turbulence (thanks Robb). Landing in Sydney at 11:30am with no plan – no hostel booked, no flight to New Zealand booked, and absolutely no idea what I was doing. Sitting down in Macca’s (McDonald’s down under) at the airport and stealing their wifi to try to sort my life out, which has developed to be a rather common theme during the past year. And well, the rest is history, which is documented in countless photos and journal entries and the odd infrequent blog post.
One year. One year of backpacking, Stray-busing, volcano climbing, waterfall chasing, trekking, cabin-living, road-tripping, woofing, kayaking and paddle-boarding, and having more adventures than I could have ever imagined. One year of some of the most incredible, unique, beautiful people that I’ve ever met, from various countries and all walks of life. One year of many new friendships, and maintaining long-distance ones back home. One year of being completely independent, sometimes nomadic. One year of learning to stop “planning” and just having ideas and going with the flow. One year of change withing myself that I didn’t even know was possible. One year filled with the most magnificent memories.
One year.
By far, the best year of my life.
vanislandgirl 
Yay and
Happy new year girl !!
Sent from my iPhone
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