Today my phone died.

Right foot. Left foot. Both are flat on the pavement. My knees are bent, supporting my book as I write. I've taken off my sunglasses, to see a little clearer- I really need a case for those glasses. The sky is pale grey, almost white, no clouds, no sun.

To my right I can hear the drums and the ringing of bells, they remind me of my primary school lunch bell. It's music. The soundtrack. In the distance sirens sound, a plea to the New York rush hour drivers to move, as if they can. A young man strums his guitar, I always wanted to learn. Silence echoes from the chess players. The girl behind me is planning to move out, her room mate is too loud.

A young girl, maybe 21, bright barbie pink hair is in deep conversation with her cross legged friend. I wonder what about.

A shadow covers my book. Above me stands a black man, in a wedding dress. I blink several times, attempting to take it in. "You write sloppy!" he proclaims, and the laughter around me confirms that not only I heard this. I close my book, realising that he may start reading aloud my descriptions of those around me, barbie pink hair might hear.

"What are you writing? Writing to yourself?!" he snaps.

"Yes...", I smile politely, as if I am the one intruding on him. Is he going to leave? Or will it be me who leaves. I wait patiently.

A woman snaps his picture. "Hey! Come back here! You give me a dollar right now!", he's angry. He leaves my side, he has more important things to do. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean too", but she so did. "This is why I'm not a model!" he really doesn't like his picture being taken, a model would surely be a bad career choice.

I decide to move.

With perspective now on my side, I see he has a white suit shirt and vest with a white silky tie. A long flowing lacy floor length skirt, just like a princess. His neck is covered by a large silk scarf, almost like a tutu. His head holds the white top hat. A silver peace sign necklace hangs on his chest, large goggles cover his eyes. His right hand grasps a large hessian sack, its beautiful. Flowers are woven around the middle. His left hand grips a white plastic bag, looks heavy.

He's screaming now, almost erratic. Between the screams appear short bursts of conversations with the  strangers sitting at his feet. He asks the man what he is reading, impatient he grabs the book to see for himself.

A boy snaps his picture. Barely 15 years old. "HEY!" he saw it, he runs. The boys begins to laugh and runs, looking back as if to check that this is actually happening. The man stops and then stumbles backwards, falling several steps to the ground. Confused and disoriented. No body helps. The boy sees his opportunity and takes it, *click click*, closer this time.

It's Union Square, New York city and the cherry blossoms are floating through the air, falling softy like snow flakes. There is a woman laying asleep to my left, I wonder what she is dreaming. Her backpack supports her head as the pavement supports her body. Folded arms are positioned protectively in front of her stomach. The green beer can catches the light.

Six teenagers, standing in a line. So tall, yet no older than 16. The boy now stands between them, he isn't scared anymore. They taunt the man, smiling and laughing. The young boy walks closer, a little cocky, strength in his voice "what did you say old man?". His friends are only steps away, he feels tough. Shoulders arched.

Others read on, obliviously or seemingly oblivious. Some pause, listening and watching, intrigued perhaps or maybe amused. I've moved a little further, sitting on a bench. I take out a shortbread biscuit, I love shortbread. I uncross my legs, I don't want spider veins.

She twists her ring, as if it's hurting her. She's reciting words from a handwritten note. It's a long note, more like a letter, perhaps one she wrote, or received.

Surely it's too cold for shorts, people are wearing shorts.

The man is now dancing. Slow dancing, is it to the drums? I wonder... where is his family? His friends?

I reach into my bag to check my phone, greeted by the black screen I remember it died. I would have usually had my head phones in, music playing, eyes and brain locked onto that screen.

Instead I watched and listened to the real world around me. I can't share any pictures, because I didn't take any.

His skirt was really very beautiful. 

Mahalo

Mahalo

Last week I was lucky enough to visit Hawaii for the first time. 5 days in paradise with my Grandparents and Uncles (yep lucky me). The New York winter had been harsh, 5 months of sunless days and my skin was now aching for attention. After 10.5 hours of flying from New York, I landed at Honolulu airport, suitcase and handbag in-tow. I made my way for the shuttle bus (Speedi-shuttle), handed my luggage to the driver and boarded the bus- onwards to vacation time! My stomach was home to a family of butterflies, I couldn't wait to be sheltered in the arms of my Grandma. As a child, all I wanted was to be an independent 'adult', making my own choices, but as an adult we all know the feeling too well of that lingering desire to be curled up on Grandmas couch, watching disney films, curtains drawn and not a care in the world (including what's for lunch- Grandma's got that sorted).

As we drive along the coastline, I realise how much I've missed this- the ocean, the outdoors, the SUN! As soon as I get off this bus, I'm headed for that ocean... I thought. 45 minutes later and we arrive at my resort. However, my luggage did not. It had vanished, was missing, lost, stolen, had disappeared... GONE! Keep your calm Rachel, it'll turn up. The driver assured me he would go back and find it- good! I hopped off the bus, greeted with big hugs from my family and despite the fact I only had Nikes, tights and the top I had been wearing for 12 hours... I was happy to be here. The ocean was lingering in front of my lunch table, but with no bikini it would have to wait. 

Hours and eventually days passed, and no luggage. The shuttle bus company taking no responsibility for misplacing/losing my luggage and I had to accept it was never coming back. My suitcase was big, and expensive- I had invested in that suitcase when I had moved to NYC assuming it would last me a good 10 years of travel. With a big suitcase, but only a short vacation I had stupidly thrown every summer item I own in that case. Shoes, dresses, bikinis, hats, skirts, shorts, jewellery and the list goes on. I couldn't believe it had happened. After years of travelling I had never lost a thing! "It's just stuff" I told myself, although I couldn't quite shake the feeling of my new pretty dress, never being worn, roaming Hawaii somewhere... My friend M rightly pointed out that "As morbid as it may sound, we don't cross to the other side with 'things'" and she was right, we don't. They're just things Rachel. The next 5 days was unexplainably amazing. 

"Time, when pursued like a bandit- will behave like one. At some point you have to stop because it won't. You have to admit that you can't catch it. That you're not supposed to catch it. At some point, you gotta let go and sit still and let contentment come to YOU".

For 5 days I got to spend real, uninterrupted time with my family. The laughs were contagious, the food was continuous and the memories will be forever. We sat around the table each night enjoying each other, Grandma and I swam with dolphins, and I mean freestyle swam through the water while the dolphin swam next to us... Grandma and I swam out to the pontoon and sunbaked, we drank from a pineapple and visited Pearl Harbour. I would lose that darn suitcase all over again to have that week. 

I've realised, how easy it is to get lost in 'things'. We 'nest', building our surroundings, filling our wardrobes, our bags and our lives with 'things'. I had just 'lost' thousands of dollars, but as cliche as it is, money couldn't buy the week I had spent with my family. Those memories will be forever. This entire time in New York is about the experiences, the people and the places... not the things I can buy to fill my suitcase. 

There on Kahala beach, I spent my week in 2 bikinis, 2 dresses and a pair of tights and Nikes. Less wardrobe changes than I've ever had, and what a good feeling that was. 

Mahalo. xxx