Category Archives: Experimenting

The Doorman.

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Image via Sunshine in the Fog, Pinterest.

Image via Sunshine in the Fog, Pinterest.

As much as it might appear that I’m this little pocket rocket whose on fire, never stopping to breathe, sleep properly, take a look outside or step my bare-feet on the grass: truth be known it’s those darn little things that keep me sane.

But, like most of this generation of beautifully spoilt, young, wild and free things: I have been forever seeking to postpone the day when my crazy youth is no longer only as close as a crawl through the Narnia cupboard away.

I think for me, it was this idea that adulthood implies a sense of being ‘done and dusted’– forever to be held in the stuffy under-the-stairs crevice of Harry Potter fame, living in the denial of a better and bright yesterday.

What I never considered though, was that inside the man-hole, could exist yet another door, one I never knew about. A door to some new, magical world I would have never found, had I maintained my defiance of never setting foot in Harry’s place.

I know you’ve heard it before, ‘when one door closes, another opens’, but do you believe it, or just nod ignorantly to the elder that claims to share their wisdom?

Have you ever even really considered its truthfulness?

Because yesterday, on a walk along a beach I never once thought was really ‘that’ nice, I found an incredible sunset, some rocks to sit on and a jelly fish to touch.

In that instant, I finally acknowledged that in every second there’s an opportunity for discovery, an ‘aha’ moment or just a simple appreciation that what you never thought you wanted, might actually be the best outcome.

It’s so easy for us to rest on laurels, stop sprinting when it hurts rather than push for an extra 15 seconds until we’re truly out of breath, and to get complacent in the comfort and happiness of what we know we can handle with ease.

It’s so easy to get comfortable and forget about the big dreams and ambitions we hold.

But haven’t you realized that once children can walk they want to run, and once they learn how to clap or talk they do it endlessly, and faster, and more often, urging anyone around them to teach them more.

When did we get so self-righteous, so doom-oriented, boring, and eager to remain the same old place? Where did that hunger for novelty, and excitement for the unknown go?

That, I don’t know, but I do know it’s creeping back.

Because the truth is kid, enough will never be enough, and you are growing, changing and evolving with every passing second.

Are you hungry yet?

Love, S.

Why I’ll never be able to run the world: A Tribute.

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Image via Pinterest.

Image via Pinterest.

You know what, the world isn’t fair.

Waiters take your order wrong and serve you orange juice when you specifically asked for carrot, apple and ginger, and Clinique Beauty Experts will sell you over-priced oily-skin moisturizer when you clearly explained your face is combination.

People let you down, others forget about you, you forget about someone else, and the selfish person gets what you deserve. It all seems so worthy of being negative and upset over.

It’s insane how comfortable we are in our drama blanket, but how many of us have actually ever felt the cold, the real cold?

Does anyone truly grasp the reality that good things happen to bad people, and bad things happen to those totally undeserving of pain and sadness? It’s haunting to comprehend that no matter what we focus on, strive towards, want, desire and pray for; sometimes there is a pre-written story which is totally and utterly set in stone – unchangeable by any amount of tears and wishes for it not to be.

How totally thwarting, humbling, and terrifyingly insightful it is, when we finally appreciate that there are actually real things to be upset about – like losing someone you love, forever.

I’ll never be able to understand why life and this world hands out what it does, and it scares me a little to think that no matter how positively a life is led, there is no guarantee of constant sunshine and happy days. So life is a gamble. Every damn day there are a million things that could go perfectly right or gravely wrong. A smile you could see, or a fight you could encounter. A turn for the better, or a turn for the absolute worse.

And for once, I don’t have an answer for any of it. I’m speechless.

Because as much as I want to believe I can run the world, I’m humbly reminded that reality is untouchable – and it doesn’t care how broken it leaves your heart. For that, I am sorry. I am sorry because the only thing I can come up with, is that in those moments of utterly mind-numbing pain, the only thing left to do is to somehow piece together that shattered glass inside your chest, and love.

Love that before the tears there were so many smiles your cheeks burned from. That before the incessant wails and screams for things to be different, there was laughter that hurt just as hard. That one day, maybe not in a week, month or year, but one day – everything will stop aching, even if just a teeny bit less.

Each day, hour and minute, someone’s world is turning upside down for better or worse, and if you’re reading this, you have to appreciate that for right now, while I’ve got you for just a second you’re mine and safe.

So when you finish reading this, I’d like to ask you to stop. Stop, look up, close your eyes and smile.

Smile because in this moment, everything is perfect, you are healthy, you have people you love around you, and although you have no real clue as to what today or tomorrow will hold, for now you all you have to do is breathe. But I ask you to smile for those who don’t have it in them to the same in this second, and share the beat of your heart with others who will never be able to return it. Smile because although pain and loss is paralyzing, you have the ability to love harder than ever.

For a second, I dare you to take off your blanket and step into the snow – it’s cold out there, but summer will always come.

To two great men: thank-you for being you, the legendary fathers my best friends love and adore.

To my girls who lost them, thank-you for being an example of strength I look up to everyday.

To everyone else this Christmas,  hug your annoying cousin a little tighter than usual, and laugh at every single one of your uncle’s bad jokes. Love, appreciate and treasure this special time with the people who love you.

Merry Christmas.

Love, S.

The un-rave: Lessons I learnt from the ‘night-in’.

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Image via We Heart It.

Image via We Heart It.

It happens to the best of us, whether it be a raging plan that never works out, a tribe of friends that have all conveniently decided to hermit-ize for the weekend, or an overworking job that leaves you feeling tired enough to willingly ‘bench’ this one out; it’s a sad truth, but ‘nights-in’ are an unavoidable reality.

For me, the symptoms of a ‘night-in’ are always the same: I pre-empt the night with a Nanna, rather than a Disco nap (the prefix succinctly defining post-nap activities, #nannalyf vs #discolyf). And this said Nanna nap, turns into a full-blown hibernation lasting almost 3 hours – it was supposed to be a NAP, c’mon Sheesh!

What this terribly timed slumber does for me is two things, two counterintuitive glorious things: It 1) rids me of being tired, and 2) Rids me of being tired just in time for it to be too late to make actual plans.

It’s in that moment of harsh realization that I really begin to ponder life.

I mean, a perfect, summer Friday ‘night-in’, is the perfect antidote for some deep and pensive thinking.

Everyone, well at least everyone except Mum and Dad are out, eating Huxtaburgers, drinking mojitos, mingling, dancing, making memories and loving it. Me? I’m scrolling through the TV programme praying for a roaring movie to be on and checking Facebook every 5 minutes to make sure I’m not missing out on anything too fantastic – I love when people don’t check in, I also love a lack of Instagram posts and no new Snapchat stories, STAY OFF THE PHONE PEOPLE, you are doing wonders for my ego.

After about half an hour of this self-mutilating surveillance of the world that exists everywhere but here, something changes. I’m totally lacking energy, totally detached from the fact that yeah, whilst it’s a ‘night-in’, it could be a great ‘night-in’ at that.

So I take it upon my self to reignite that TGIF splendor, even if it means I remain in my pyjamas for the entirety of it, because there is something about riding a Friday night solo, that is actually quite insightful. Here are the lessons I learnt from the nights I spent in.

Weekend-feel basics.

Sure they may not be heading out for a rager, but parents know how to tune those weekend feels even in the slightest way. While it’s not the most bikini-bod-friendly option, take-away of all sorts does wonders for the soul. No dishes, no meal prep, no worries. It’s the weekend, and that means chill time for all (except the Pizza Man, we need you!).

Windows are open, music is playing and the beers are on the house (literally). You don’t ever need to go too far to feel the weekend vibes.

I really needed this.

Weekdays are often so hectic we don’t notice the little things that need our attention, like:

How long was my room actually going to stay messy for?

That parking fine was almost over-due!

Wow, I totally forgot I left that rotting banana in my bag!

So my sister DID steal my skirt, AND leave it scrunched up on the floor, AND it has a stain on it. Note to self: Must. Kill. Her.

It’s quite bizarre the things you find, realize and do when you have the time to find, realize and do them.

You actually don’t mind Ben Stiller as an Actor.

But I guess, there’s something about ‘There’s something about Mary’ that can turn anyone’s frown upside down. I mean it COULD be worse, you COULD be Ted when he gets ‘stuck’ in the zipper. Poor guy.

When did staying in stop being cool anyway?

Slumber parties were literally the cause of my existence – until they weren’t. Remember the days when your sleeping bag was your best friend and pancakes were a Saturday essential?

Coloured popcorn and movie marathons with friends used to equal the BEST. NIGHT. EVER. I’m not sure when, how or why we decided that wearing short skirts in winter was a better idea than being cocooned in an arctic slumber bag that still smells like grade 6 camp #amirite.

I could do this again next Friday.

It’s the end of the week, FRIYAY! And after 5+ full days of waking up early and being a citizen who contributes to the world, it’s time for some ‘me-time’.

It’s an important trait to have: being okay with being alone. And it can totally be a hoot! Once you get passed the first half hour of wallowing in sadness, reaching for the block of chocolate you know you don’t want (but you’re not going out anyway, so you don’t need to wear a tight skirt, so it’s okay right?) you start reaching instead, for something nourishing, something good, and begin to find that it so easy to feel amazing and great and cool – without the additional extras of a dimly lit dance-floor, a good DJ, a group of friends, and pending bar tab.

Because for tonight, it’s just You + You.

You know You so well, You know what You love, what You feel like, what movie You want to watch, and which book You want to read – as well as everything else there is to know. Cultivate this relationship like you do with your best friend.

Because if there is one person you can truly rely on, someone who will follow you to every corner of the earth and never, ever leave you alone on any Fiday night. It’s you.

Here’s to the night-in!

Love, S.

 

 

 

 

#lemonlyf

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Image via We Heart It.

Image via We Heart It.

‘When life throws lemons at you, make lemonade’ that old chestnut hey?

But who ever signed up for lemonade making? I mean, unless you’re an old-school Grandma who has a better recipe for lemonade than Schweppes, I think you should leave bubble-making to the experts.

But I guess that’s it isn’t it. You may not have signed up for lemonade making, or ‘that’ outcome, ‘that’ answer, ‘that’ response, or ‘that’ moment – it just happened. And here you are, with two bags full of lemons and a lack of thirst. Now what?

Unfortunately, nobody ever makes a plan for things to go badly, and I suppose that’s the magic of life. We never truly know what is up, down, or due to happen in any given second.

All we can be sure of, is this lemonade philosophy: that given even the sourest ingredient imaginable, something good, refreshing and sweet CAN emerge.

At the very least, plan for that and find a recipe for making a comeback, if Mariah Carey can do it, so can you!

Love, S.

 

Life: So wrong it’s right.

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Image by @tezzab via We Heart It.

Image by @tezzab via We Heart It.

Like Killer Pythons and The Lion King, it seems that a broken arm, leg, finger or something, is an essential part of growing up.

Even I, the girl whose idea of a ‘daredevilish’ time is a round on the Ferris Wheel, have endured the torment of broken a bone – admittedly I was one year of age, and it wasn’t my fault.

But Mum has sweetly kept the miniature cast of my thunder thing toddler leg, proving that I’m a fully fledged survivor and the truth that falling down and getting hurt is part of life.

We stumble, often really hard, so hard that the pain is not just a temporary scratch able to be remedied by a cool Wiggles band-aid, but one whose ache lingers for at least 6 weeks, and leaves a great looking scar forever.

But I recently learned something interesting about this: a bone that is broken will heal to be stronger than it was before.

So it seems Yeezy was onto something when he said “Na-na-na that that don’t kill me, can only make me stronger”. Interesting.

It seems that no matter how much Milo smothered milk you drink and how much spinach you eat to keep your bones ‘strong and healthy’, the best thing you can do is to break them, and force their strengthening the hard way – obviously more painful but hey, if it gets the job done right?

Now I’m not suggesting you start attempting backflips and trapeze swinging as a method of toughening up – if you do, at least get a go pro and share the footage around – but I am asking that you see the value in being broken.

I know at the time, a broken bone, crushed heart, shattered dream and battered ego is a brutal sentence, but trust in Mr. Kanye West and rest easy in the knowledge that such tremors “makes us harder, better, faster, stronger”.

We learn far more from our mistakes than our successes, and a huge part of living in this day and age, is our responsibility to abuse the opportunities we are given. No doubt you’ll fall, oh honey, you’re going to crash and burn.

Your world will fall apart, and fall apart again. You’ll stop having fun with your ‘best friend’ and be forced to find a new one, you will stop enjoying your job, mangoes will go out of season and your favourite show will release its finale. Your dream job won’t want you, neither will Ryan Gosling, and you are going to make wrong decisions again and again.

It’s all part of it, and that’s okay. Just know that there is value in getting it wrong, and most of the time it’s so wrong it’s right.

So jump higher than you think you can, and don’t be too afraid of coming back down, because:

Work it harder.

Make it better.

Do it faster.

Makes us stronger.

More than ever.

Love, S.

 

The Presence Present.

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Image by @sjanaelise via Instagram.

Image by @sjanaelise via Instagram.

It’s like, you know when you’ve set yourself up for a ‘Nanna Nap’, not any old nap, but a strictly-18-minutes-only-snooze. You set your alarm for the precise amount of time, and as you slowly allow yourself to drift into a heavenly slumber, you start thinking about everything you have to do as soon as the alarm goes off.

You start to panic wondering if you should just pack it in and ditch the nap altogether, but no, “I deserve and NEED this nap” you tell yourself. But before you commit, you look back at the clock once more, “Alrighty,15 minutes to go, I’ve got this!”

And then the little devil inside chirps up again:

“Hmm is it snack time yet?”

“Surely it’s snack time, hmm, I’m hungry.”

“What will I have for a snack?”

“I think we still have some Pad Thai left, tat will be yum.”

“Lol what am I thinking, I’m trying to be healthy. I saw some bananas, definitely a smoothie.”

“Smoothies, yum! Good idea Shee! I wonder what else I could put in this magical smoothie.”

“Ugh STOP thinking about your damn smoothie, NAP! You have like only 14 minutes left now.”

“Ok so let’s get this straight, as soon as the alarm goes off, I’m going to sort out this, call her, text him about that, clean this, wash that, the list goes on to the tune of “My head is a Jungle”.

“Ok, one last look at my phone for the time before I 100% promise to nap.”

“2 minutes left, What? Seriously? Noooo!!”

The above example is 100% accurate in my world, and following the whole one-sided dialogue, I am always malnourished of the miniscule 18 minute doze I so desperately needed, I often opt instead for a huge cup of coffee, with a side of guilt for

  1. Spending almost a quarter of an hour thinking about a damn smoothie I now don’t even want.
  2. Spending 18 minutes being completely useless, and most of all,
  3. Not having the nap I promised myself.

So I bargained a simple nap, a slice of solitude and relaxation for just a moment, but instead, I polluted every last second of it.

And looking back, I’m a classic for polluting the good by not being totally there, for being less than present and not completely embracing whatever ‘it’ is.

It’s the ultimate sabotage, the purest form of self-betrayal and one, which is way too common today. In an effort to reduce this epidemic, i’ve come up with some simple solutions to some of life’s most pressing issues, hear me out:

You want an ice cream? Then go bloody get it, and grab a double scoop in a waffle cone while you’re at it. And annoy the ice-cream girl with asking for at least 5 samples. This is your time to shine, don’t hold back!

You want to go to the beach? I don’t care that you are in a mode of self-imprisonment due to a forthcoming exam tomorrow – tomorrow is going to come whether you got to the beach or not, so why not just go.

You want to move out? Do it! Sure Mum will be sad, but she’ll still be able to show you love in the form of sending 2000  “are you alive” texts a day. Plus you’ll be home every Tuesday for Spaghetti anyway.

Moral of the story: do what you want – only if you do it with a twist: BE THERE.

Actually show up mentally, physically and emotionally. 

Embrace your salted caramel gelato with every delicate lick, squeeze the sand between your toes with extra vigor and splash around in the ocean because you can. But most importantly, do not be afraid of making the decisions that seemed so huge and adulterated when you were young – because you are older now, and it is time.

So in the words of my favourite Real Housewife, Jackie Gillies:

Shine Shine Shine!

Love, S.

Nailing the Fail.

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Buzz Kill by Arrow Divine via Instagram. Shot by Cloudy Rhodes.

Buzz Kill by Arrow Divine via Instagram.
Shot by Cloudy Rhodes.

There’s a lot of noise surrounding this whole ‘Just Do It’, ‘Never Give Up’ mentality, and I’m about to put my foot down.

Don’t get me wrong, I love the Nike ‘tick’ as much as the next person, but I’m thinking that there’s something quite profound in failure, or as I like to call it, ‘strategic quitting’.

Sounds like an oxymoron and a half I know, but considering the lack of hours in a day, days in a week, weeks in a year and years in a lifetime, I’m going to be a selective snob, and say that quitting and ‘failing’ is kind of really great!

Personally, I couldn’t even tell you how many times I’ve stopped reading a new book after just not ‘feeling it’ within the first 5 pages, how many restaurants my friends and I have ditched after being ‘not totally in love’ with the menu options, or how many movies I’ve only watched 20 minutes of.

Am I Picky? Yes.

A possessor of obscenely high expections? Definitely.

A changeling? Most likely.

But I’m going to own these nuances, and pretend that I’m onto something, something good.

Because, in the past week, a lot of events are really leading me to believe that we only make plans to change them, and that we seek to follow rules only to be a badass and break them anyway.

Unfortunately, the ‘choice’ to discontinue a fad diet, long-term relationship or ‘dream’ career is often labeled as failure with a capital ‘F’, but in my opinion, life is way too short for bad vibes, and if being a failure is what it comes down to, I’ll claim that badge proudly.

Because there HAS to be some profound beauty in walking away – in making new tracks, singing new songs and completely turning your back on something that just doesn’t fit anymore.

I mean, why bother wasting your time drinking bad coffee, finishing an ugly seagull puzzle, or pouring energy into a relationship that doesn’t make you laugh until your cheeks hurt?

So throw the coffee down the sink and make a new one with cinnamon on top and extra sugar, throw away that puzzle and stop making an effort with those who don’t appreciate it.

Don’t feel sorry for yourself, embrace and be the change. There’s no excuse but you don’t need one.

It’s called failing to win.

Love, S.

‘Don’t Cry For Me Argentina': No crying in Buenos Aires.

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No matter how small you are, 24 hours in transit, across seemingly endless seas – even with the entertainment of new movies on demand and a new set of Dr. Dre Beats – is never a comfortable experience. I swear I tried every single method of curling up, and leant my head in every way trying to imitate a decent nights’ sleep – all to no feat.

But like every thing that takes time, finally arriving in Buenos Aires, the Argentine capital, and apparently the cultural capital of ALL South America was totally worth it.

As a Spanish student, witnessing the verbs and syllables I attempt so often in class, being applied to the real world was freakily satisfying, and being able to choose from a menu without the anxiety of wrongly ordering steak tartare (raw mince, oops, what?! no tartare sauce? Weh! – True story) is really quite comforting.

But more than the words that litter these streets in conversation, and the weather which is superbly ideal for a gradual tan, in the risk of sounding clichéd – this place is really, very cool!

I’m talking about a country of late-night loving, tango dancing, sweet-toothed, insanely carnivorous people; whose adoration of dulce de leche (the best type of caramel you’ve ever had – and I hate caramello koalas, so that’s saying something about the level of caramel here) seems to have no registration on waistlines – I mean, these people sure know how to, metaphorically, “put it away”.

I should have known, this is after all the hometown of Shakira. And well, “hips don’t lie”.

But apart from the effortless swing of every native hip, this city is one whose Sunday Markets are second to none, whose streets are perfectly flat for bike riding enthusiasts yet whose pedestrian crossings are more like death wishes. There are ‘hoods which will transport you to Paris in an instant, and others which are so colourful and musical that you will legit think you are trapped inside a play-box of lego and tango costumes.

But honestly Argentina, I’d happily be trapped here forever, and if you too, happen to find yourself in BA (code for Buenos Aires), check out these gems of a good time!

San Telmo Markets.

Sundays only folks, but oh, so, good! I spent a solid 5 hours touching every bracelet, llama wool jumper, antique and bag. There’s a lot of arts and crafty type stuff if you’re into it, but have a geez for some cultural immersion. A good beat of music, or stall of food is never more than 10 steps away, so spending a day here is really a no-brainer.

Dulce de Leche.

With alfajores (short-bread style cookies), in crepes, in a cone, mixed with ice-cream, oozing from a cake, or just rubbing it all over yourself then licking it off. Do whatever you can to consume as much of this as possible. It’s mandatory.

Inner-city gardens.

If like me, you love a bit of a tree-change, check out the Japanese garden , the Botanic Garden, or even the Constanera Sur reserve.

Chimichurri Sauce.

Why isn’t this magical sauce a ‘thing’ in Western Society? I am positive it is God’s condiment of choice. Much too good for children! Best with burgers, chorizo, steak, pork, bread, vegetables, chips, pancakes, – ok too far, but you geddit!

The Cemetery.

Sounds morbid I know, but this is actually sick! See below for insight!

Cafe Tortoni.

Just do it. Get a coffee, use the bathroom or just have a look around – it’s kind of a big deal.

Tango.

Self-explanatory! Cha Cha Cha! – Not sure if that’s part of the tango, but yeah, WOO!

Camiñita, La Boca.

Refer to said, lego box of tango dreams.

#meateater.

#meateater.

Street Tango in La Boca.

Street Tango in La Boca.

Word.

Word.

Café Tortoni.

Café Tortoni.

Camiñita, La Boca.

Camiñita, La Boca.

Greenhouse Lovin' in the Jardín Botánico.

Greenhouse Lovin’ in the Jardín Botánico.

La Recoleta Cemetary.

La Recoleta Cemetary.

Next up: Iguassu Falls. Stay Tuned Amigos!

Sheona xo.

FOMO: A deconstruction.

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Image by @valentina_muntoni via Instagram

Image by @valentina_muntoni via Instagram.

Being available at the drop of a hat is something that I genuinely pride myself on, and I’d like to think that being “down” for anything is a trait that most people would aspire to.

Because in my books, it’s totally okay to text someone at 3pm requesting chai latte accompaniment in half an hour; and my own replies to invitational texts read something like this: “So. There. It’s. Insane.”

Basically, I’ve deduced this erratic tendency of always being available, to nothing other than FOMO.

I’ve heard acceptance is the first step of any form of recovery, so here it is:

I, Sheona Bello, solemnly admit that I am a full-time, hardcore sufferer of FOMO – more extensively known as the “Fear Of Missing Out”.

But to be honest, I never want to lose this ‘fear’. Here’s why.

On the one hand, it could be argued that such a condition leaves one forever in anticipation of the “next big thing” and never truly enjoying the present. But I prefer the contrary, FOMO is the best thing ever!

Think about it: if you have FOMO, it means that you have identified something you want to experience, and in an effort to reduce FOMO, you go ahead and do it! It’s a simple equation, really:

FOMO averted = experience attained = happy days!

And seriously, who doesn’t want happy days, for dayyyssss? It’s not a trick question, we all do! 

Now I am fully anticipating you, my beloved reader, to at this point deduce what I’ve written as a ludicrous indication of naïveté, idealism and outrageous optimism, but please stick with me here.

I mean sure, it may be some form of psychological conditioning, too many olives when I was a toddler or maybe even a recent overdose on coconut water which has conceived these ideas, but I definitely say all this from experience.

Because, once again I am humbly reminded that plans are made to be changed, and there are greater things available than I could have ever imagined myself – only if you are willing to avoid your FOMO, and embrace them!

As such, it is with huge excitement that I write this post, less than 24 hours before boarding a flight to Shanghai – a place I didn’t plan on seeing for another 5 years, and a trip I am not nearly prepared for given the 48 hour proximity of a separate, 2 month trip through South America.

But the opportunity was there, I have FOMO, I wanted to relieve my FOMO, so I POUNCED. 

Don’t blame me, blame it on the boogie.

拜拜啦

Sheona xo.

 

 

Daughters of a European Summer.

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beach-best-friends-blonde-brunette-Favim.com-2011518

There’s a sort of mental and emotional hangover that rushes over you when arriving back home from an overseas trip, and I’m not sure if it’s normal or not, but I am 100% stuck in a European bubble – what’s scary is, I don’t think I ever want to leave it.

I’m ‘fresh off the boat’ as they say, from a 6 week stint through Europe, wheeling a suitcase which could double as my private room (yes, it’s THAT big, and I’m THAT small) through the world’s cutest cobbled alleyways, sipping the cheapest vino over-looking the most stunning sunsets and dancing on the bar-tops of every venue which wouldn’t escort us out for doing so.

I guess I am suffering the side-effects of a 2-month, daily scramble to pick up the remnants of my suit-caser life 5 minutes before EVERY late checkout, making sure that the essential: iPhone, Passport, Birkenstocks and three gal pals were in tow before departure. Or maybe it’s an epic “come-down” from endless bittersweet farewells to cities i’d re-fallen in love with, in exchange for the promise of a new tomorrow in an equally as fresh land complete with new mates and even newer moments to add to my expanding memory bank.

But, it’s now officially a week that my lungs have been privy to the Melbourne, if not Australian air, and I would be lying if I said that most mornings I don’t still flounder in my bed, confused and often delirious about which country I am in, and whether we have woken up too late and already missed our flight to Brussels.

I am constantly running into my sister’s room across the hall trying to decipher which of my friends are still not home from the crazy night before, only to find my Year 12 mini-me, fast asleep in her bed, awaiting a 7am alarm to welcome a day full of high-school torture.

Yep, I am definitely home; I just don’t know it yet and it’s ludicrously, the exact same feeling I had as we flew out on that chilly Melbourne night, 7 weeks ago. A pitch black sky we had been awaiting, for no less than 183 days, 17 hours and precisely, 22 minutes – I remember because I screen-shot the countdown when the travel agent confirmed our outbound flight.

After so long planning, throwing up ideas, making outlandish bucket-list entries and dares that I ‘shot-gun not’; the very hour had finally dawned, and even on the plane as we milked the mini vodkas just like we said we would (thanks Emirates), it still didn’t seem real.

Even now, as I look back at all the pictures we awkwardly asked strangers to take of us in front of the Colosseum, or as I comment on the “take me back to Europe” statuses of my new – now also returned – travel mates, or even listen to the songs which will forever compose the soundtrack to “that 2014 Eurotrip” – it’s still pretty fantastical and surreal.

So in an effort to relive every moment, non-sober epiphany, soul mate meeting and gorgeous view, I am belatedly beginning the memoirs of the summer that was (your Melbourne winter).

Better late than never, hey!

For now, “skies are blue”.