Some images from my four day hop. It felt momentous in its own way - partly because I was crossing a corner of the world I’ve never seen before, joining up the corners of our Eurocentric maps that show the world ending a little east of New Zealand. Also because I was feeling so well. This is the home stretch.
I had a last snorkel in the rain before packing up the beach hut. Jenny, my local friend came to say goodbye with her cup of tea on the balcony as she has done every morning. It was an extremely wet and turbulent flight to Rarotonga (I found a great deal of joy in taking this flight in my flip flops...). Joey met me at the airport and took me back to the farm. I recovered from the journey, repacked the cold weather clothes I’d left there and finished a painting (that’s another post).
Before I left for Aitutaki, Odette had been just as delighted I was going to be there for the final of The National Dancer of the Year Competition as she had originally been cross I was going to miss it. I sat through half the dances (it was a great way to really get under the skin of Cook Island’s Maori culture) before I had to quickly find a way back home to bed.
I said goodbye to Rarotonga and got on the plane around midnight. I knew something was different this time. It is such a tiny airport there was no need for a wheelchair, but I realised how stressful I still find flying as long as there’s some element of ME to deal with. This time, finally for a night flight, I slept on a plane. In Los Angeles the next morning I almost fell into my hotel room by the airport and did nothing (minus a swim, already missing the water). I had arranged it that way. Decided to explore LA when I have some real energy and am on less of a tight budget. I suddenly felt I was back in a more familiar world. With working WiFi, power-showers and baffling politics.
The next morning I flew to Denver. Again, I needed the wheelchair but not half as much as before. It felt much more of a precaution. Maria met me at the luggage carousel. It had been 18 years! We became friends when we were in the same tiny group of people studying with a Tibetan Buddhist nun in Sydney. I had wanted to visit her in Boulder for years and here I was, chatting as if we had just crossed The Golden Gate Bridge.
An ME/CFS Thriver