follow the flow
a travel journal and photography journey
Terence and I have been in Juneau for a week now! And the explorings have been of both the internal and external kind—unsurprisingly, if you’ve read this blog before.
On the external note, on this intimate little island:
We walked around the downtown area, filled with tourists from the MASSIVE cruise ships that were docked close by. I’d never really seen cruise ships up close like that before…and holy fuck they are hotels on water. Terence used to work on cruise ships when he was younger, and so told me many the inside scoop on cruise-ship life—the people, the food, the locations, but most of all, the debauchery. But those are stories for another time…hehe.
We didn’t spend much time walking about this downtown spot, as most of the stores end up being money grabs for the tourists who are only there for a few hours. Terence’s typical course of action during his cruise-ship life was to walk about 5 blocks away, in any direction, from where all the tourism was. There, he would find the local gems. And so did we.
We found this awesome organic market called Rainbow Foods (but um, of course) and met this kooky-adorable lady named…wait for it…Cricket. Don’t care if that name was chosen or given, it’s awesome. And so was she. Super knowledgable on food and nutrition—we quickly got into it with her about the benefits of eating fats, and then ecstatic dance, and then energy work. Yup, our people.
We also saw a production of Hamlet at a non-profit theatre called Theatre in the Rough, and it was the first time Terence had seen Hamlet, ever! The production was very grass-roots, sparse, and simple, but filled with a lot of heart.
Side Note: As I was watching the curtain call, I was paying particularly close attention to the ways each of the actors were tearing up and looking at each other with exhausted smiles; the we did it, smiles. I know those tears and smiles so well. I have cried at the end of every show I have ever done. Because when putting on a play, the cast and crew become family. And that particular family witnesses and supports you through extremely vulnerable terrain. The actors are there every day pushing their edges and exploring their boundaries with everyone else present to their process. It can be terrifying, especially with dense, heavy, challenging text like Shakespeare—so whatever the outcome of the actual production, good, bad, clean, messy, the bond created in working on the production is sacred, and special, and worth it. I saw this in their faces. It made me miss being onstage.
We hiked to a glacier! The Mendenhall Glacier. Which ended up being a much longer and colder hike than anticipated, but it was still pretty epic to see something of that magnitude in person. And then just yesterday we went blueberry picking, by accident! We decided to drive as far North as we could on the island, and there on the side of the road were two people in the bushes. We stopped and asked them what they were picking, and they showed us how to spot the blueberries, huckleberries, and cranberries. Jackpot.
And as for the internal explorings, on Terence’s and my intimate little island:
We are in a new space. A sweeter space. A more intimate space. A space of more attraction. A space of more laughter and silliness and not taking our shit, or each others, too seriously. It took us a while to find this space. It feels like it has been pretty rough seas since we started traveling in the van about two and half months ago. But we were obviously meant to find our reconnection whenever we were meant to find it. Attempting to rush or force sweetness, intimacy, laughter, and silliness, never really fares well. Could you imagine?…sounds awful. So we didn’t. We were present with it when it was hard, when it was ugly, when it was uncomfortable, when it didn’t feel like we were communicating well at all, when it didn’t feel like our relationship was working well at all. We did our best not to make up stories about what it meant, to just be present with the feelings. And something else, something beautiful, emerged…
I think the fact that much of our time in Juneau has been spent being lazy has been FANTASTIC for us. So much of the van journey had been spent getting from place to place—doing doing doing doing driving driving driving driving—that we weren’t really allowing ourselves the space to read a book, or nap, or binge watch Stranger Things season 3 (oh my god oh my god so good), or allow some magic of imagination or connection to come through.
It’s kind of like when you plan to meet up with a friend who you haven’t seen for a long time for coffee. It’s the difference between having 1 hour, or 3, to spend with them. In that first hour, you talk about all the stuff that needs to be talked about so you can be caught up, and the relationship is nurtured, usually to the degree that it stays in the space of intimacy it currently resides. But its in those extra two hours of time spent, where there is nothing that needs to be talked about, that the spontaneity, acute listening, and heightened curiosity comes in. Odd questions are asked, surprising answers are found, awkward moments maybe occur, and a more intricate layer of connection is uncovered. I think the extra two hours are the space within which relationships discover their depth.
And this is the same as within my relationship, and within traveling, in my experience of it anyway. I can understand, comprehend, and totally appreciate a place traveled to if I am there for only a few minutes. But it’s in those extra bits of time, where all agenda has passed, that the nuances of the earth reveal themselves to me, and I fall in love.