Travel Based on Intuition and Inspiration
Part 1: Vancouver Samesun
Sex, music, infatuation, bonds, all-nighters, beaches, accents, inspiration, reflection, and the Samesun.
I’m Canadian and moved to Vancouver, inspired by a band. I dropped out of university, sold my possessions, left friends, and my terminally ill granny. I left my family because I felt that moving away is the answer. I realize after coming to BC that Toronto is home.
I couch surfed, deciding to return to Toronto. However, I deciphered to remain in BC for one month first. If I hadn’t chosen to return, I wouldn’t have gone to hostels, I wouldn’t have split to LA, I wouldn’t have done explicit things, I wouldn’t have musically connected, I wouldn’t have met unforgettable beings, I wouldn’t have been inspired to write more songs, I wouldn’t have discovered me and I wouldn’t have envisioned travels that I will be doing in 2014. This hostel genuinely changed my future.
I didn’t do much the first week. I had my period so I stayed in bed. I was joked about by my roommates. It was a great week in the sense of getting to know them. That week, I didn’t know what to do, where to go, who to meet… it was a good time until I knew I HAD to push.
I did an open mic at the Beaver. These are the nights where my soul opens all flesh to the world, when my libido sparks- the nights of magic. Multiple people told me how amazing I am. That is why I love doing what I do. It’s the feeling of happiness that is better than sex and the disappointment that follows, better than a hot fudge sundae, better than mac ‘n cheese covered in pulled pork. I made friends. I realized that my voice is power. I have drawn people into my aura.
The key to traveling is not the location- rather, the connections you make. I now know what traveling means. It’s about making mates and remaining in touch with their anecdotes. It’s about having sofas to sleep on in foreign countries when you visit the bud you met at the Samesun.
I sit with my buds, connecting through language. As I walk to my room, a guy from Albania walks with me. He blows a kiss. This is when I think, “Ou. This will get interesting, eh?”.
The rest of that week was full of blood, cramps, sleep and chocolate. My body prepared me for what was coming.
Roommates come and leave. I may never see them, but that’s the sadness of travel- pure exhaustion. On the contrary, it’s worth it.
I took my ukulele to Sunset Beach and let ideas flow, inspired by the percussion of the oceanic waves, crashing before my nostrils. I was going to make the best of everything.
I walk into the Beaver and see beautiful guys. I’m ecstatic when I feel prime vibes from people who I perform for. They leave before my set and inside I sink. Before I go on, they return and I know it’s going to be a rad evening. They accompany me with tambourine. Afterward, I thank them. Every sensation feels right. I hang with them until wee hours. They became my British Mancunian muckers. I wish I could be fully open with what happened, but let’s just say the button was pushed and it felt nice.
In hostels, I meet cats the night before they leave. It’s a gift. A gift to spend time with them- enough to know I want them in my life. I wrote them a goodbye speech.
I sit on the windowsill strumming my uke with nothing but feelings of sadness and loneliness. “They’ve left. Now what the fuck am I going to do?” speaks the mind of temporary pessimism. You won’t know until you get out there, Sam. I repeatedly told myself.
A bunch of us go to Sunset Beach and bond. I sing and we sit, looking yonder the orgasmic ocean. I meet many new friends.
Part 2: Venice Beach Samesun
I awake from napping and feel empty. I’ve conjured going to LA before I leave but denied myself until now. I book. The following Monday I’m on the Greyhound headed to sunny California, eh.
(Read more of Sam’s overnight journey here).
It’s a wild bus ride full of African-American female tension, soda-drinking and chip-eating (objectively noted by observing Americans), uncomfortable sleeping positions, missing Canada, the fear of the unknown, but the excitement for the mystery.
Arriving late at the Samesun, the next evening I do an open mic. Returning with feelings of wonder, I sit in the artistic lounge of the hostel and hear conversations. I speak with them, inspired by radiance. We bond and I sing for them as the window lay open, birds sing sweet morning slumber hymns, waves from afar crash and the sun awakens. ‘Tis better than sex. We hang until 7 am. They disperse.
I return to bed, sad. Highs don’t last, but memories, eternal. Roommates arrive and change my life. I descend to Danny’s and watch a band. A man from the hostel sits with me. I’m fine until he tells me I tanned my chest, looking at me with crazed eyes. Thankfully, my roommates come. We return and bond. Laying on the bunk with these two girls, sharing sexual stories, eating chocolate, laughing, grinning, and absorbing.
We go to Santa Monica. We eat American food and observe foreigners. Afterward, we immerse ourselves into the ocean and become high from the waves. We buy American candy. All sitting on the bunk, exchanging Facebook names, eating candy, and relaxing. In walks this Mancunian. The most ironic find is that he along with two mates I fancy have compass tattoos! My intuition tells me he’s a musician and I’m right. Yay, international collaboration! We all dine. I feel the physical tension between him and I. We purchase alcohol and scurry to our room. I can’t write what I wish to write, but all I will say is that I did something that I had always been intimidated to do.
I express farewell speeches to everyone.
It was my turn to leave. I meet the greatest of souls when I only have one day to spend with them. I get ready with no sleep and off I head, North.
I arrive at the Vancouver Samesun. I meet French girls from Québec, whom now reside in Banff. I sleep, not knowing what the rest of the week includes.
The time spent in this hostel has sincerely altered the entire course of my existence. I met so many young international travellers, brave beautiful people, musicians, people who have biographies written about them, and sexy guys. I have become inspired to write blog entries, diary writings, and songs. I met people who have gone through the devil. I did things that I never thought I’d do. The Samesun inspires my life, motivates me to dream and encourages me to travel for my essence. I thank you all for everything because your ripple has affected the liquid in my internal body. I am a bird, a dreaming and a doing bird.
You must take it all in. As if you’re sniffing cocaine, which I did not do.
A huge thank you to Sam for sharing her personal & inspiring journey, which we’re sure many travelers can relate to.
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