Kiwi Walkabout

I have been tramping on my own for quite a while in New Zealand—something I would never attempt back in Malaysia—and I’m finding it oddly.. soothing. Thoughts would wrap themselves around my head, and it’s completely mystifying to think while listening to the waves crashing on the beach, or walking through thick green foliage bustling with life all around. It’s my walkabout—trying to find myself, or where my soul resides, and although I had craved for companions during the earlier half of my Kiwi journey (and got the worst travelling partner one could’ve ever wished for in the form of a grumpy old fart), right now I felt very much at home at being on my own. It felt like a month since I first started travelling here, but it has only been just over a week. I’ve yet to find my soul or myself—which the 35-year-old English guy had talked to me about in his state of happy, buzzed inebriety—but I for one have rediscovered trust among strangers from various walks of life. Suddenly the world is less obnoxious and heartless even for just a day.