gardegalaxia

[scarlettfevor]

I love the items in acnh and I sometimes fantasize about playing the game again, but then I remember that the first month after you make your island is the most taxing AND the most fun you'll have and then everything after that is mind-numbingly boring

[pengychan]

Te Rerenga Wairua - Ch. 16

Title: Te Rerenga Wairua Summary: Found by the gods drifting at sea, Maui always assumed he had been thrown in it to drown. When that assumption is challenged, there is only one way to find closure: speaking to his long-departed family. But it’s never a smooth sail to the Underworld, and he’ll need help from a friend - plus a token that fell in the claws of an old enemy long ago. Characters: Maui, Moana, Tamatoa Rating: K Prologue and links to all chapters up so far here.

“… And so I thought, ‘wait a moment, I never checked out this place!’, and gave it a go. It looked like there was nothing, but then I noticed something shiny - I can see anything sparkling from a mile away - and further on there was this cave, with crystals everywhere–”

“How old are you?”

“… So of course I– Huh?” Tamatoa blinked, suddenly yanked out of his tale by the sudden and definitely unexpected question. “What does that have to do with anything? Have you been listening to me at all?”

Leaning down in the sand, hands folded behind his head and gaze fixed on the stars, Maui didn’t bother answering his question any more than Tamatoa had answered his. “Three thousand years?” he guessed instead.

“Er… About three and a half, I guess?” Tamatoa ventured, frowning. Come to think of it he’d been acting kind of odd during that visit, like his mind wasn’t really there.

Unaware of his thoughts, Maui let out a hum. “That’s about it for me, too.”

“That’s… nice, I guess? I’m pretty sure I was an only child, though, so if you think you have a long lost twin–” Tamatoa began, only to trail off when Maui laughed. It wasn’t the usual laugh, though; it was far less heartfelt, with a bitterness to it that didn’t escape him at all.

“Hah! I don’t think we look alike enough, but I might have had siblings, who knows? Kids my parents didn’t throw at sea,” he added before falling silent for a full minute. Tamatoa had enough sense not to say anything - he knew it was a sore spot, of course, how could it not be? - and Maui eventually resumed speaking. “If there were any, they’re long gone by now while I’ll keep on living forever, unless something kills me. Funny, isn’t it? If they’d kept me I’d have stayed human, and I’d be dead now. Human lives are so short.”

Nothing in his voice or posture suggested what he’d said was even remotely funny, and Tamatoa didn’t think it was very amusing, either.

If we’d stayed in Lalotai, his Gran’s voice echoed in his mind, you’d have died within days.

Except that his mother and grandmother had meant to save him. Maui’s mortal parents had wanted him gone. “… Are you all right, man?” Tamatoa found himself asking, settling down in the sand. He already knew that he was not, because that kind of talk wasn’t like Maui at all, but he didn’t know what else he could say. Maui shrugged, eyes still fixed on the sky above.

“Yeah. Just missed out on a couple of friends�� passing,” he said vaguely, then, “how long does your kind live?”

To be honest, Tamatoa wasn’t sure. The only other giant crab he’d ever really known was his grandmother; she hadn’t told him that detail, and he’d never really dared to ask her age. He only knew she’d been old, a great deal more than he was now, and likely still had a few more centuries or even thousands of years left in her when the underwater volcanic eruption had quite literally cooked her alive. It had made her easier to chew.

“Well, a lot longer than human, for sure,” he finally said. “Gran was a lot older than me. Like, at least three times as old? Would make sense, being my grandma and all. I’m pretty sure I’m young, man. You still have a lot of time to enjoy my presence,” he added with a grin, pointing at himself with a claw and causing Maui to snort out a laugh.

“I feel so lucky,” he muttered, and finally lifted himself up on his elbows to look at him, tearing his gaze off the sky. “So, you were saying how you got those crystals?”

“Huh? Oh! Right! So, I got to this cave…” Tamatoa resumed his tale with no small amount of relief, but knowing deep down that his audience wasn’t really interested. When Maui came up with the suicidal idea of sneaking past Hine-nui-te-pō to win immortality for mankind, not too long after that night, Tamatoa was plenty worried… but only slightly surprised.

***

“I still can’t believe she let us go. How did you know it would work?”

“I didn’t. I just figured that she’d want to have a lost friend back more than anything else. I mean, who wouldn’t?”

“… Fair enough,” Maui sighed, and turned to glance at Tamatoa, who was resting on the sand by the fire. His somber expression turned slightly graver. “Still no sign of waking up,” he muttered.

“But he’s not shifting anymore, so… I don’t think he’s in pain.”

“Yeah, thanks to Te Fiti. Even if he doesn’t make it, at least there’s that. He’s not hurting.”

“So he could just… not wake up?”

It was the same question Moana had wanted to ask, but it had come from someone else entirely. Pilifeai was halfway into the ocean, munching what looked much like the remains of a shark, though he didn’t come too close to the fire they had started to keep warm and cook themselves some fish. Maui replied to his question with a nod, through a mouthful of said fish.

“Pretty much. Te Fiti has done what she could, but even her powers are limited over those of another goddess. Whether he makes it or not is up to him now. Good news is that, if he does make it, he’ll be virtually immortal.”

Moana blinked. “… He’ll be what now?”

“Hey, you heard me. He would have literally survived the bite of death - that’s a big deal. I mean, if someone cuts his head or something, he will still die. But if he lives to tell this story, he won’t get any older than he is now.”

“So it’s basically death or immortality?”

“Yep. Crabby never really settled for the middle ground, did he? Go big or go home.”

Moana bit her lower lip, and reached to place a hand on Tamatoa’s back. Normally his heartbeat would have been impossible to detect through the shell, but with much of it gone she could press a couple of fingers on the soft tissue beneath - and sure enough there it was, slow but regular.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Silently begging for it not to stop, Moana kept her hand on his back - and within moments he felt the weight of someone else’s hand on her own shoulder. “We’ve done all we could,” Maui said, and she nodded.

“I know. I just… really hope he makes it.”

“Well, makes two of us. I was never much of a fan of friends dying,” Maui said, and the clear bitterness in his voice caused her to turn to him. He looked back at her with a brave attempt at a grin, but it turned into a grimace soon enough. “You know, dying is a thing lots of mortals do. Of old age if they’re lucky. But I don’t grow any older, so I’ve seen… more than a few people leaving.”

… Oh.

Moana hadn’t really paused to wonder why Maui had tried to win immortality for humans, enraging the Goddess of Death for the first time and nearly being killed himself in the process, but now it all made sense. Once grown and wielding the hook gifted to him by the gods, Maui had returned to men seeking their acceptance. He had received their adoration, and likely the friendship of many… but he couldn’t really be one of them, not anymore. He kept living on, and humans just didn’t. How many people Maui had considered his friends had died over the centuries and millennia, like she would one day?

If you do not free the messenger, Hine-nui-te-pō had said, your friend here will pay the price. Her life span is short; her soul will come to my realm one day, as you’re all too aware.

“That… must be difficult to watch,” Moana found herself saying, and Maui shrugged, scratching his cheek.

“Well, truth be told I wasn’t usually there,” he said slowly. “I’d drop by, go away for a time, and then when I went back next time, a few people were…” he made a vague gesture with his hand. “I didn’t let me bother me too much until, well. Ruihi and Vailele weren’t half bad -  Vailele even befriended a whale and learned about currents from it - that’s pretty amazing, I had to give him that,” he said, and gave the fire a distant smile. Moana said nothing, waiting for him to go ahead. He did, after a few moments of silence.

“You know, when you live eternally, you kinda see mortals growing up. Each time you visit they’re a bit older. Those two were inseparable since kids. I don’t think anyone in the village was surprised when he asked her to marry him. Or was it the other way around? You know, knowing them, it was probably the other way around. Anyway, they put off the wedding until I happened to drop by. They wanted me to be there, you know?”

Moana smiled. “That was really nice of them.”

“Yeah, it was. Fun party, too - lasted all night and we were all more than a little drunk the next day. Lots of fermented coconut milk. I am usually pretty proud of creating that tree, but that morning I was sort of regretting it,” he added, and gave a brief laugh before throwing another log into the fire. He paused for a moment, the harsh light of the flames making it impossible for Moana to miss his frown.

“I dropped by from time to time, sometimes even travelled with them,” he finally spoke again. “But as time passed, they were less likely to be at sea. Easier to find them home. They were getting old fast, but I didn’t really notice how fast. Until one time I was away for a few years - can’t remember what I’d been doing, probably helping out other villages, or hunting for treasure with Crabby, or something - and, when I dropped by their island, they just… weren’t there anymore. Their kids were, and they were all happy to see me, but– hey, wait, don’t cry! It’s been a long time and I’m over it, honest!”

Moana blinked. “But I’m… not?” she said. Sure, the tale had saddened her, but she wasn’t crying or… wait a moment, had someone just sniffled? But if she wasn’t crying, Maui wasn’t crying and Tamatoa was unconscious, who…?

“All right, lizard, are you serious now?”

Pilifeai straightened himself and began backtracking into the ocean, though not without another very obvious sniffle. “I got a barnacle in my eye!” he all but yelled before turning and diving back underwater, leaving Maui and Moana to silently stare at the ripples for several moments before Maui spoke up again.

“This is getting slightly out of hand,” he said, deadpanned, and Moana couldn’t hold back a snorting laugh.

“I think this got out of hand from the start,” she pointed out, causing Maui to chuckle as well and sit back on the sand. They shared a few moments of peaceful silence before she reached to put a hand on his arm. “For the record,” she said quietly, “I am planning to stay alive for as long as I can. And even afterwards, I can come looking for you,” she added. “If my grandmother can roam the ocean, then so will I.”

Maui stared at her for a few moments, then grinned and gave her shoulder a small bump. “I’ll be counting on that,” he said, and glanced down at Tamatoa’s sleeping form. “Plus, you’d also be able to find him and give him a piece of my mind if he dares die on us now.”

“Oh, I don’t think it would be needed. Missing out the moment I hit you with my oar would be enough of a punishment.”

“Hah! And here I was hoping you’d forgotten about it.”

“Not a chance,” Moana replied, elbowing his side, and they shared a long, peaceful silence before settling down to sleep. When Tamatoa shifted slightly on the sand, unconsciously moving closer to the fire and to them, neither of them stirred.

***

“Uuuugh…”

It was a groan, more than the light of dawn on her eyelids, that caused Moana to awaken. There was no grogginess, no stage in-between sleep and awareness: she was asleep one moment and sitting up the next, her mind perfectly clear and that groan - the meaning of that groan - all she could ear. “Tamatoa!”

“Uh– what…?” Maui mumbled somewhere behind her, but Moana was hardly aware of his presence: she could only stare down at Tamatoa to see he was blinking against the light, and trying to pull himself up.

You’re all right, she almost said - then Tamatoa’s head fell back onto the sand with a whimper and words died in her throat, relief turning into dread. He was awake and aware, but he didn’t seem to be faring much better. He was still sick. He was still dying.

No. No, please. This can’t be happening. He’s come so far!

She was aware, dimly, of Maui’s hand on her shoulder while he knelt down next to her. Tamatoa stayed still, breath coming out in gasps, and Moana found herself unable to speak for a few moments. When she did, her voice was barely a whisper. “Tamatoa…?”

With what looked like a terrible effort, Tamatoa lifted his eyestalks just enough to look at them, antennae limp. “Human?” he rasped, blinking at her a couple of time. “Is that you?”

Trying her hardest to hold back tears, Moana forced herself to smile. “Of course it’s me. You didn’t think we’d leave you behind, did you?” she added, but Tamatoa seemed not to have even heard her. He leaned his head back down, spent, and closed his eyes.

“So, that was… that was pretty cool, wasn’t it?”

“That was amazing, buddy,” Maui spoke up, his own voice strained. “The most amazing feat I’ve ever seen.”

Another few moments, more labored breathing, and Tamatoa called out again. “So, did you… did you like the song?”

Something ached in Moana’s chest, and it took all of her willpower to hold back a sob. Her vision blurred, and she had to wipe her eyes. “Yes. Yes, I loved the song,” she managed, her voice shaking. She reached down to place a hand on his back, to comfort him somehow.

Except that she never got to.

“Ha-ah! I knew it!”

What…?

Moana reared back, and so did Maui, when Tamatoa suddenly perked up and stood, pointing at them with a claw, all signs of distress gone. “I knew you liked the song! Took you forever to admit it, huh?”

Moana’s eyes shifted towards Maui, who looked back at her in stunned silence before they both slowly turned back to Tamatoa - who, seemingly unaware of their reactions, was still talking.

“… And of course I knew you’d loved it, because who wouldn’t love my voice? And I came up with such clever lyrics, too. It only irked me you wouldn’t just admit it already - I mean, if I didn’t know better, I’d have almost thought you were trying to avoid the quest– hey, what– no! Hey! Put me down! Wait! WA–”

“Aaaaagh!”

Maui’s throw was nothing short of perfect. Tamatoa was flung through the air in a perfect arch, screaming all the way, and finally fell into the ocean with a loud splash - which was immediately followed by another as a huge scaly head suddenly popped out from underwater, much closer to the shore.

“Wait, what was that? What did I miss?” Pilifeai demanded to know, but Maui entirely ignored him:  he just gave a satisfied huff.

“Well, that felt good,” he muttered, then turned to Moana. “I know, I know, I probably shouldn’t have–” he added, but he was cut off when Moana held up her hand.

“No, no, it’s fine,” she said lightly. “He deserved it.”

***

“I really didn’t deserve that.”

“Oh yes, you did.”

“Well, you refused to tell me whether or not you liked that song and feedback is important, all right? So I thought–”

“Tamatoa?”

“What?”

“I can shrink you again if you don’t drop it now.”

The remark had the desired effect, if anything: Tamatoa, back to his usual size, finally shut his mouth - though he did look at her with something that looked awfully close to a pout. In the end he just turned to glance back over his shell, to survey the damage done. After a few moments of silence, he heaved out a sigh.

“Well, this shell is done for,” he muttered darkly, looking away. He didn’t say anything about the great deal of treasure he’d lost again, torn away along with chunks of shell and even flesh, but it was clear that was precisely what he was thinking about.

“Well, you can molt,” Maui pointed out. “And then you’ll have a brand new shell we can cover up with all of the treasure we’ll find at the Taniwha’s islands.”

Tamatoa scoffed. “What, am I supposed to thank you now?”

Maui lifted his hands. “Just pointing out the bright sides,” he said, and glanced at Moana, who crossed her arms and tapped a foot in wait. With a sigh, he turned back to Tamatoa. “By the way, uh… thanks. For trying to warn me, and… well, for taking one for the team.”

Under normal circumstances, Tamatoa would have taken the chance to gloat over Maui owing him - but those weren’t normal circumstances, and the sight of his mangled shell wasn’t helping matters. “I don’t like molting,” the giant crab muttered, a whiny quality to his voice. “It takes days for the new shell to harden. It’s all soft and squishy. I don’t like it.”

And it leaves you vulnerable, Maui thought. If that was the real problem, he couldn’t entirely blame him: he’d been hurt more in the past couple of weeks than he ever had been in millennia, after all. His torn limb must have been a walk in the park by comparison.

“You’re safe here. We’ll make sure nothing happens while you’re, as you put it, soft and squishy,” Maui promised, standing up, and threw the hook on his shoulder. “Not that I think you’re gonna need us as bodyguards. I mean, you’ve sort of beaten death, Crabcake. What can even threaten you anymore?”

Tamatoa glared at him and opened his mouth to reply, but no sound came out. Slowly, his expression turned into one of bewilderment, like he was just realizing exactly what had happened. “Oh. That’s right. She bit me and I didn’t die,” he muttered, and turned to Moana with a wide grin. “Hah! Now that is amazing, isn’t it?”

She raised an eyebrow. “I am still mad at your for the act you put up earlier, you know.”

Tamatoa’s face fell. “Aw, come on! It was just–”

“Go molt.”

“But–”

“Now.”

With a huff like that of a scolded kid who really doesn’t think he deserved the scolding in the first place, Tamatoa crossed his pincers. “Ugh. Fine. But you’ve got to leave.”

“… What?”

“And don’t look!”

Oh, Maui thought, right. He’d almost forgotten that molting was kind of a private matter. “Won’t look. Actually, we’ll be off to catch some fish,” he promised, putting an arm around Moana’s shoulders to lead her away. It would be for the best: from what he could recall, a giant crab molting involved some less than pleasant noises as the old shell was fractured to, not to mention the crunching sounds when said crab proceeded to eat it.

Because, as Tamatoa had said a million times before, his Gran hadn’t raised him to be wasteful.

***

“Hey, Crabcake–”

“Eeek!”

“Oh, come on! I’ve seen you molting befo– huh. Did you already eat all of the old shell?”

Half-hidden next to a huge, moss-covered boulder, Tamatoa shrugged. “I was hungry, man. And besides, a good chunk of it was gone,” he said, voice flat. He was resting his head on his claws, his antennae idly moving around a small pile of trinkets - all that he’d been able to scrape off his old shell’s remains, Maui supposed.

“… Right. Battling death burns calories, huh?” he found himself asking, rubbing the back of his neck a bit awkwardly. His gaze fell back on what little was left of the recovered treasure. “I’m, uh. Sorry about your stuff.”

Tamatoa gave him an apathetic look. “I should have told you about the hairpin sooner, huh?”

Maui sighed, dropping his shoulders. “Well, yeah. But I shouldn’t have gone off ahead like I did. I’d say we’re even when it comes to bad life choices,” he added, and tried to grin. Still, it died on his lips when his gaze fell on Tamatoa’s stump. “I’m also, well. Sorry for your leg.”

Tamatoa’s eyes flickered towards it, then turned back to the remains of his treasure. Some of it was still stained in dried, blue blood. “And I shouldn’t have attacked the humans, I guess,” he said flatly. “But they had so many shiny things, and I…” another pause, and he sighed. “Well, I’m back to square one anyway,” he added, and frowned down at the small heap of treasure before him. “It never really made me special, did it?”

Well. Took him long enough, but here we are.

“What, that heap of junk? Nope. You did,” Maui pointed out, leaning on his hook. “Are you just forgetting the part where you’ve literally stood up to the Goddess of Death, wounded her, and lived to tell the tale?” he asked, causing his antennae to perk up some. “Come on now, don’t make me go all Moana on you. What you did is the stuff legends are made of, and trinkets had absolutely nothing to do with it. It was all you.”

Tamatoa looked rather smug as Maui spoke, but that died down some when he glanced back at the remains of his hoard. It looked like losing it all over again was a sore spot regardless, but it was no surprise to Maui. He’d been there as well: when you spend millennia - most of your existence - defining your worth a certain way, it’s hard to shake it off even once you know better. Pep talks may help, but that kind of stuff took time. He still had plenty of crap to work through himself.

“You know, if that’s still not enough, I’m sure we’ll find plenty of shinies at the Taniwha’s island,” Maui pointed out. Tamatoa made a face.

“It won’t be enough. My shell is going to look hideous, man. I’m scarred and it’s gonna show even more when the shell hardens. I bet there will be cracks and– hey! Careful when climbing! I’m delicate!” he protested. Maui ignored him, and just hoisted himself up on his back - which did feel sort of squishy, to be honest - to take a look. Tamatoa’s skin was several shades lighter than the shell, but it would darken as it hardened. It was also scarred, sure, and that would definitely show on the new shell, probably causing fissures. But they were unlikely to be deep enough to reach skin, and that would make them easy to fill up.

“Pffft, this is nothing. The Taniwha’s gold will be enough to fix any cracks.”

“No it won’t. It can’t be enough to cover all–”

“I said fix them, not cover them.”

“Huh?”

“Just trust me on this one, Crabcake,” Maui said, jumping off and landing next to his head. “I’ll fix you up real good. You might even like your new shell better than the old one - it will show off your battle scars, and that is a story you’re gonna want to tell everyone about. Your story. Like my tattoos, I guess? It’s gonna be something you earned. Oh, by the way!” He grinned and took a step back, spreading his arms. “Notice anything different?”

Tamatoa squinted at him. “… Did you give a hair trim?”

“Nope! It’s– no, wait. Actually, yes,” Maui admitted, running a hand through said hair. His fingers paused for a moment on the hairpin still in it. “That too, just  to get rid of a few split ends. Thanks for noticing. Anything else?”

Tamatoa blinked at him. “Uuuh… I can’t think of– hey, wait a moment…” he said, gaze pausing on Maui’s torso. There, on the right side of his chest, one of his tattoos had changed back to what it had been before. Maui was no longer holding onto the sun on his own: there was a well-known figure back in the picture, helping him in the deed. His own.

“Looks familiar? I mean, you did help. I shouldn’t have taken you out of the narrative - these tattoos should tell all of my story, and not just the parts I want to show off. Oh, but I do want to show off this!” he added, turning to show his back and flexing his arms. “What do you think? I thought this was a fight worth telling about. Please, don’t let the muscles distract you too much.”

There was no comment on his muscles, of course, as there was no comment about the new tattoo on his lower back; Tamatoa was too surprised, Maui supposed. It showed Maui himself trapped under a boulder, a hand reaching out, as well as Moana with her arms lifted in an extreme attempt at protecting herself - but the real centerpiece of the tattoo was Tamatoa, holding off a very pissed Hine-nui-te-pō.

“So, uh. What do you think?”

No answer.

“… I think you’re pretty on-model, really, but if you’ve got changes to sugge–” Maui went on, only to trail off when he heard  the muffled but unmistakable sound of someone sniffling.

Well, who wouldn’t have known? Making monsters cry is even easier than beating them.

“Tell me you’re not crying,” Maui found himself saying, and as a response he got another very obvious sniffle as well as a predictable mumble on how something must have gotten in his eye. When Maui turned, Tamatoa was rubbing both eyes with the back of his claws.

“Must have been a piece of shell,” he muttered, and Maui immediately nodded. On his chest Mini Maui was wiping his eyes as well, with Mini Moana reaching over to pat his shoulder.

“Oh. Sure. A piece of shell,” Mau repeated. He didn’t bother asking if he’d liked the tattoo: the reaction had already told him everything. “So, uh. I’ll leave you alone now. Want me to bring over some fish while you get on hardening that shell? Moana and I caught some.”

Tamatoa immediately nodded, clearly relieved by the change of subject. “Oh. Sure. That would be nice,” he said, and paused for a moment. “… The human is not that mad, is she?”

Maui laughed. “For your little stunt earlier? Maybe a bit, but she won’t be for much longer. She was terrified you’d die on us. Just… never bring up that song again.”

“But she did like–” Tamatoa began, only to trail off when Maui raised an eyebrow. “All right. I won’t,” he said, and Maui grinned before bumping a fist on his claw.

“Now just get that shell ready, and we’ll be good to go. Free the Manaia, get some loot while we’re at it - it’s gonna be a child’s play, just like old times,” he added, and turned to leave.

“Hey, Maui?” Tamatoa called out. Maui paused, and glanced back at him over his shoulder. The giant crab hesitated before shrugging. “… I’m glad I didn’t eat you.”

Again, Maui couldn’t hold back a laugh. “Hah! You should be. I bet I taste horrible, with all of this ink,” he said, walking away. He heard Tamatoa chuckling at the comment and, most of all, he felt his gaze on the new tattoo on his back until the moment he turned the corner.

***

“Maui, your tattoo!”

His hands busy holding onto the rope to keep the sail in the right position, Maui replied without turning. “Which one? You’ll have to be more specific. I’ve done a bit of redecorating.”

Instead of replying, Moana reached to brush aside Maui’s hair, so that she could take a better look. She had seen his new one, depicting the fight at Cape Reinga, and of course she’d noticed Tamatoa was also back in the one on Maui’s chest, but until that moment she hadn’t realized something else had changed, the one on Maui’s upper back.

When she’d last seen it, it showed a long-haired woman throwing a child into the sea; simple as the design was, there had been a sense of heartlessness to it that had made it hard to breathe for a few moments when she’d first learned its meaning. But now the tattoo had changed: he woman’s hair was no longer long and flowing, but cropped short; she was not throwing the baby at sea, but rather gently laying him to rest on the waves, wrapped up in a knot of hair. It was still heartbreaking to look at, but in a different way. Moana traced the woman’s figure with a finger, and looked up to meet Maui’s eyes from over his shoulder.

“Well, Hine-nui-te-pō sort of confirmed I was stillborn until the ocean and the gods intervened, so… I figured it was time to correct a bit of history I always got wrong,” he added with a shrug, like it was no big deal. But of course it was - the biggest deal of them all. Moana poked outline of the baby on his skin, and smiled.

“She’s going to be so happy to meet you,” she said. Maui blinked at her for a moment before turning away just a bit too abruptly, clearing his throat.

“I’ll find out when I see her, I guess,” he muttered, reaching up to rub a forearm across his eyes. “Ugh. Salt water.”

Salt water. Sure.

“Hey, human!” Tamatoa’s voice rang out on their left. He’d emerged on a shallow patch of sea and was walking alongside the boat, head held just out of water. He’d refused to be shrunk again, and had travelled along with them by walking across the bottom of the sea.

“What is it?”

“Unless I’m wrong, and I never am, we’re about to get there,” he added, antennae flickering towards the horizon. Sure enough, the outline of the Taniwha’s islands was becoming more and more visible. “I sort of wonder how did they manage to best the Manaia of all beings. They’re powerful.”

“Must have tricked them,” Maui replied, throwing the fishhook over his shoulder. “Some sort of trap. There is no way those gremlins bested the Manaia in a fight, so they must have been caught by surprise. But no worries, we won’t be. We’ll go and clobber them before they can even try to think up some trick to pull.”

Tamatoa glanced at Moana. “You said you had a plan to get past Headless Guy Who Is Actually The Manaia. Mind to share, babe? Because I think I’ve taken enough beatings to last me a lifetime or two lately.”

Moana shrugged. “It’s a simple one. I distract it, and you go for the island.”

“… What, that’s all?”

Beside her, Maui shrugged. “What else do you need? The Manaia chases after her, we get on the island undisturbed. We ask nicely for the head. If that doesn’t work we trash their place, take the Manaia’s head, you help yourself to any treasure, and then we return the head to its owner.”

“That doesn’t sound very safe.”

“What, afraid of the Taniwha now?”

“Wha– no!” Tamatoa protested, clearly immensely offended by the mere suggestion. “Of course not! I mean that it doesn’t sound safe for the human. That thing is strong, remember? Held off both of us, and almost did me in when I tried to get  past it on my own. If it catches you, you’re done for.”

Moana grinned, leaning against the mast. “But first, it would have to catch me,” she said. “And it won’t even come close. You don’t need to worry about a thing. I maneuvered my way past Te Ka; I can outrun this one, too.”

Tamatoa opened his mouth to say something else, but someone got there first.

“Wait a moment, does that mean you’re splitting up? Am I supposed to pick what to watch?” Pilifeai protested, head popping out from underwater. That gained him a few unimpressed looks.

“Yeah, we sort of forgot to tailor our plan for your convenience,” Maui said drily. “But no worries, you won’t need to pick, because you’re not coming anywhere near the island. Can’t risk you getting the Manaia all the way to us while we’re busy recovering their head. On the other hand, you got yourself a first-row seat to watch the chase.”

“Wha–”

“Iti haere.”

Pilifeai indignant protests at being shrunk again was covered by a laugh. Tamatoa reached to pick him up from the sea with a pincer, holding him before his eyes, and grinned. “You know, I like you a lot better when you’re tiny,” he told him before glancing at Moana. “You sure I can’t eat him?”

“Absolutely. Just leave him with me.”

“Ugh. Fine,” he muttered, unceremoniously dropping Pilifeai down on the boat. The lizard immediately squirmed back his paws and glared daggers at Moana, who gave him an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, but we can’t risk you interfering. No worries, I’ll get you back your size once this is over with.”

“If this boat and everyone on it survives it,” the lizard snorted.

“Get praying, then,” Moana said lightly, and grabbed the rudder before turning to Maui and nodding. “I’m good to go. Move for the main island when the Manaia comes after me.”

“Will do. Lead them to a good long chase,” Maui said, and lifted his hook. “Crabcake, you just follow me. Chee-hoo!”

As Maui’s shark form disappeared under the waves, Tamatoa turned to glance at her one more time. “You sure you’ll be fine, babe?”

“Positive. Have fun raiding that island,” Moana added. On other circumstances she may have suggested a less aggressive approach, but she found she had little sympathy for beings willing to enslave another the way they had done with the Manaia. Unaware of her thoughts, Tamatoa grinned back.

“Oh, you bet we’ll be having fun,” he said, and disappeared underwater to go after Maui. Moana turned back towards the Taniwha’s island, reaching to take a hold of the sail.

“Well, so will I. Ready to go?”

In the hold, Heihei let out a distinctive ‘bwook’. Pua went to sit at the front of the ship, rigid like a warrior steadying himself for a fight. Pilifeai, on the other hand, sighed and flopped down on a rolled-up rope.

“I suppose there would be no point in telling you I can be more useful at full size, would there?”

“Nope. We’re not going to fight it, hust keep it running around like a headless chicken.”

“Bwaaak!”

“… Right. Sorry!”

“Hah! Headless! I see what you did there,” Pilifeai laughed, and sighed. “For the record, I’d be leaving this instant if you weren’t the only one who can turn me back my size. If we die doing this, I’ll spend all of eternity in the Underworld repeating that I’d told you so.”

“Noted,” Moana said, not precisely worried at the thought. After all, she was confident she could outrun the Manaia without too much trouble. And if she couldn’t, Hine-nui-te-pō’s threat to make her afterlife unbearable was slightly more concerning than anything a giant lizard could do or say.

***

“Aren’t you even a bit concerned?”

“Nope. Nice to see you are, though.”

“She’s just a human on a boat, up against a deity!”

“You know, the sooner you stop underestimating that human on a boat, the sooner you can stop feeling stupid when she invariably proves you wrong.”

“But–”

“No, really. Take it as friendly advice.”

“She almost died at Cape Reinga.”

“She was not on a boat.”

“… That is actually a good point. No, wait! There was a moment before that, when some rocks fell and–”

“Relax, Crabcake. There are no falling rocks here and no strong currents. She’ll do just fine,” Maui replied, perched on Tamatoa’s shell. He kept his gaze fixed on the boat sailing some distance away. She was almost near the spot where they’d been when the headless guardian had first attacked them, so any moment now… any moment…

The ocean next to the boat suddenly seemed to rise in a tidal wave, and Moana was reacting to it before the surface even broke: she immediately steered her boat in an almost complete U-turn and, when the headless warrior emerged to strike out at her, its hand hit nothing but water. It had missed, and Moana was already sailing away from it - fast enough to be out of reach, close enough to encourage the chase. And chase it did, turning its back to the main island… and to them.

“All right, it took the bait. Let’s go.”

It was a fast swim from their vantage point to the main island. As Tamatoa stepped on the sand, Maui turned to check the situation. Moana was still ahead of the Manaia, and she was also leading them behind the small island they had spent a night on - entirely shielding them from sight. Not bad, Maui thought, not bad at all.

“All right, let’s make this quick,” Maui said, throwing the hook over his shoulder. “We ask them politely, they decline, we take what we need by force and leave.”

Tamatoa tilted his head on one side. “Why are you so sure they’ll decline? I mean, they know who you are, and they’re on the small side. They could just take a look at us and decide the only smart thing to do is surrender,” he added, causing Maui to shrug.

“I’m doubtful but hey, I have been proven wrong before. Here’s your chance to find out.”

“Huh?” Tamatoa looked ahead to see what Maui had already seen: a bunch of Taniwha - slightly larger than humans, skin covered in scales, unblinking reptilian eyes  - staring back at them from the vegetation. They must have come to see what was going on when they’d heard their guardian being awakened and, if the spears in their hands were anything to go by, they had come prepared to take on any intruder who’d managed to get past the Manaia.

Well, good luck with that.

Maui smiled, and spread his arms. “Good morning there. We’re here for the Manaia’s head, and for the treasure we know you have taken at the Vault. We’re going to give both back to their legitimate owners. My friend here,” he added, gesturing towards Tamatoa, “thinks you’re smart enough to know when to quit, so how about you do just that? Surrender, hand us what we want, and no one gets hurt. Well, unless the Manaia turns on your once freed. Which would be justified, by the way, after a thousand years or so of servitude, but I don’t think I’m the best person to lecture you into not messing with deities. If you surrender, pack up and leave as quickly as possible, the Manaia might even decide not to come after–”

He was cut off by a barrage of furious hissing, and a wall of spears being raised against them, tips glistening in the sun. Maui raised an eyebrow, then looked up at Tamatoa. He was looking down at the spears he may as well have used as toothpicks, clearly unimpressed. His gaze shifted to Maui.

“… Are they serious?”

“Yep. Told you they weren’t smart enough,” Maui said, and lifted his hook, ready for the fight. It was going to be a short one, and the outcome was obvious, but at least they had tried to be polite about it.

***

[Back to Chapter 15]

[On to Chapter 17]

[atamascolily]

Episode Review: Sinbad 1x21 “Isle of Bliss”

In which Doubar gets a girlfriend, Firouz invents the Jacuzzi, and living on a magical island isn’t all fun and games.

We open at a sushi restaurant a pasha’s posh tent-palace, where the crew is hanging out as invited guests. Sinbad is worrying about what the pasha wants from them, Maeve is pretty sure it’s something dangerous for no good reason, and Firouz and Rongar aren’t fans of squid, apparently. Doubar’s having a great shoulder massage, though.

Sure enough, the pasha wants them to go find a rare sword on the Isle of Bliss. Now that’s NOT the same Isle of Bliss we visited in Episode 2 - you know, the one Dim-Dim and Maeve were living on before Turok destroyed it. But nobody even mentions that, which is kinda weird. Anyway, there’s a magical singing sword that lots of people have died trying to get and the pasha wants it for his collection. The sword can also grant one wish, so in exchange for risking their lives, the crew can have the wish as long as the pasha gets the sword. Sounds good, right?

Well, except for the fact that someone is magically spying on Sinbad, urging him to “take the bait”! My first thought is Rumina, because who else uses water to spy on Sinbad? Except it’s not her voice and it’s not her face as we see when the camera pans around the room.

Sinbad is skeptical about the pasha, but believes he could use the wish to get Dim-Dim back, so the crew agrees. The pasha promises them a “map,” which turns out to be a person, Captain Alanna, who we just saw spying on Sinbad a few moments ago. Sinbad doesn’t know this, though, and is sympathetic to Alanna’s story of losing her ship on the Isle of Bliss. Apparently, Alanna gets a bunch of treasure if the pasha gets the sword, which is why she’s going back.

Maeve is super-skeptical about all of this, and gives Alanna the side-eye as they leave. The pasha doesn’t trust Alanna either, and orders an armed escort to go with her to ensure she cooperates. Alanna’s eyes flash with a magical CG gleam, so we can see she is Not Pleased by this development.

Meanwhile, on the boat, Maeve is skeptical about Alanna’s intentions, but nobody listens to her.

Doubar is all chivalrous when Alanna shows up and the crew tosses the pasha’s men into the ocean when they try to board. Alanna almost kills one, but Maeve intervenes, and he jumps into the water, too. Maeve gives Alanna another side-eye.

So they set sail. Firouz is fiddling with something that is basically a Jacuzzi. “Wouldn’t it be simpler if I just tied a rope to you and dragged you off the stern for awhile?” Sinbad asks. “Point of fact, no. The art of relaxation is a managed environment,” Firouz says. Of course his invention comically fails at this point, and Sinbad just shrugs.

How will the Jacuzzi relate to the plot? you might be wondering. Well, we’re getting to that. Meanwhile, Alanna is charming Doubar, who is head over heels in love, and Maeve is suspicious and skeptical. Sinbad is kinda patronizing about her “feminine intuition,” which irritates Maeve and me greatly. Maeve thinks Alanna wants something from Doubar - because people normally fall for Sinbad, which is harsh but kinda true, sadly - but what exactly is her plan? Meanwhile, Rongar is at the tiller and trying to avoid all the UST awkwardness happening right in his face.

But he can’t, because as soon as Maeve stalks off in a huff, Sinbad turns to Rongar. “Women!” Amirite? Sinbad exclaims. Rongar isn’t touching this one with a ten-foot pole.

But Doubar is so happy to have a girlfriend that it’s hard for Sinbad to say anything to dampen his spirits. Look at how happy he is watching the sunset with Alanna. I want Doubar to be happy, damn it.

It would actually be more interesting to me if we didn’t know for sure that Alanna was Up To No Good, but we do, so it feels like a trainwreck is coming for sure.

Sure enough, Maeve taunts Alanna about her lack of sea-legs, and how they can use the stars to navigate instead of relying on Alanna’s experience. Alanna bites back, attributing all of Maeve’s dislike to jealousy and bitchiness: “Well, no doubt being the only woman aboard gave you a certain status, a certain power, and I would imagine you know how to use your female charms and wiles to their full benefit.”

Maeve is not amused. “I am a member of this crew, because I am on a mission.“

“Winning the Captain’s heart, perhaps? Good luck,” Alanna says, and stalks off. Maeve is speechless, probably with fury. What is it with all these random people and their opinions about my totally not romantic relationship with Sinbad anyway?

So perhaps that’s why Alanna went for Doubar and not for Sinbad - because she didn’t think she had a chance with Sinbad? Because Sinbad is used to those sorts of tactics and Doubar isn’t? We never really find out, though....

Alanna is so pissed off, she goes to her private cabin below deck and gets out that magic bowl, and... conjures the night sky away. A random crew member falls overboard. Everyone is freaked out.

Alanna emerges, and tells everyone they’ve passed through a time portal en route to the Isle of Bliss, and they’ll just have to rely on her directions. Maeve is super-skeptical, but somehow didn’t notice all the magic that just happened, and says nothing.

But her concern does inspire Sinbad to have a heart-to-heart with Doubar, which confirms he’s got it bad and that ain’t good.

Meanwhile, Firouz and Rongar are still working on the Jacuzzi. They want her to try it out, but Maeve has other plans.

While Firouz and Rongar distract Alanna, Maeve sneaks into her quarters and finds the bowl. Conrete proof that Alanna is up to no good at last! She doesn’t take it with her.

Alanna catches her, and Maeve brazenly walks out - without the bowl. She doesn’t yell to the crew that something is up. Come on, Maeve, you are normally so smart, it is crazy to watch you keep picking up the Idiot Ball here. What the hell is she thinking, turning her back on an enemy like that?

Before Maeve can get to the rest of the crew, Alanna uses the bowl to wash her overboard. Sinbad screams a lot and tries to rescue her, but to no avail.

This is especially tragic with foreknowledge of the second season, but in the meantime, everyone is devastated except for Alanna, who’s just smug.

Sinbad yells at Dermott for not being able to find Maeve, and then regrets it. He scratches Dermott’s chest just like Maeve does. Aww. They’ve come such a long way since the second episode.

But happily, Firouz invented the telescope, so they find her eventually.

Maeve’s perched in the Jacuzzi, which also washed overboard, throwing up fireballs so the crew can locate her. I love this.

Alanna is not pleased and flees the boat, knowing her cover is blown. Where did she go? The Isle of Bliss, which is just offshore now. Huh. Poor Doubar is crushed.

Meanwhile, a harpy lands on the beach....

...and transforms into Alanna, because magic doesn’t work on the Isle of Bliss, (something that Maeve pointed out in the beginning). Huh. Didn’t see that one coming.

A mysterious boy, seeing her arrival, silently signals something to a chain of other children, which ends up at a village. He also sees the crew arrive sometime later in a longboat. Strange music is heard.

Rongar catches the kid, and they realize he’s deaf. Sinbad asks where his parents are and the kid runs away. The crew follows.

No one’s in the village. They open a door to a cellar....

...and find the whole village, including the kid, hiding inside, a neat trick the crew used back in episode 13.

All of the villagers are deaf, it turns out, on account of the Singing Sword, which thankfully stops at night. Luckily, Firouz knows sign language. Firouz knows sign language. 

Wait, what?

Look, I am totally down with Firouz knowing sign language. I’m actually pleased that’s officially canon. What bugs me is that this also officially means that Firouz, who is supposed to be Rongar’s best friend, and hasn’t taught him sign language so Rongar can communicate. And I’m just... not okay with that. Not. At. All.

Anyway, Firouz knows enough sign language to learn the following: “The sword has brought them nothing but grief. Its singing has deafened them over the years, and placed them at the mercy of every fortune-hunter who comes after it. Strangers who trample their crops and abuse their good will bringing to this once blissful spot nothing but dread and hardship.” Which is why everybody was hiding. Yeah, that sucks. So removing the sword will do them a favor... but the pasha might not want it after all, huh?

Meanwhile, Alanna’s having a rough go of things without her powers, but it’s hard to feel sorry for her. It emphasizes the importance of having a well-rounded skillset, too.

Doubar and Sinbad have another heart to heart. Doubar is upset about Alanna, but Sinbad comforts him. “No one who offers love is sick, or a fool, big brother. That much I know.” Sage advice to everyone, really.

Our mystery child shows up again and makes some gestures about a snake that Doubar brushes off. The kid runs off to cry under a tree - Doubar ends up rescuing him from a GIANT SNAKE thirty seconds later.

Even though it’s clearly a constrictor, Doubar gets bitten fighting it off. The crew comes to his aid, but it doesn’t look good. Still, he won’t stand being left behind while they find the sword.

Meanwhile, dawn comes, the sword starts singing again, and we see an egret!

Alanna finds the sword in a cave, suspended from a string over a giant pool of something you don’t want to touch. We know because she falls in and singes her boots, just as Sinbad and company arrive.

Plan A is for Rongar to cut the rope with a thrown dirk, while Sinbad jumps over the pool and catches the sword before it can fall. This actually goes well, except that the dirk passed through the rope without cutting it. Back to square one.

Plan B is for Dermott to fly up and untangle the sword so Sinbad can catch it before it falls. This actually does work, for no adequately explained reason. Magic, you know?

(Oh, and while we’re on the subject of plot holes, shouldn’t Dermott turn into a human, since magic doesn’t work on this island and a transformed Alanna reverted back to her true human form? But I digress...)

This time, Doubar catches Sinbad and sword before they can fall into acid. Sinbad apologizes to Dim-Dim and uses the wish - “I wish that Doubar might live”. Cue some bad special effects, and it’s done.

Okay, this is a noble wish, but since using the wish used up the sword’s power so magic works again, the smart thing to do would have been to summon Dim-Dim, who could have healed Doubar. But that would end the show, so instead let’s just pretend Sinbad didn’t know that, and move on, okay?

Alana turns into a harpy and attacks! She still wants the sword.

Everybody but Sinbad gets knocked down and she uses her powers to drag Doubar towards the acid pit. Sinbad stabs her with the sword, and she plunges into the pit. Wow, I am lucky that relationship didn’t get very far, says Doubar.

Cut to Doubar and Rongar and some adorable village kids playing Chickenfight, while Maeve and Sinbad comment on how Doubar’s still a child at heart, and it is so heartwarming and amazing and pure and how nobody will go deaf anymore from the sword. I love it.

This is what my fanfiction epilogue for the series looks like, okay? The crew playing with a bunch of happy children - but with some resolved plot threads.

So the pasha never gets his sword. We never learn if he knew Alanna’s true nature, what the real deal between them was, why Alanna needed the crew to get to Isle of Bliss if she could FLY, why she was cozying up to Doubar, why she wanted the sword, etc, etc. But I am willing to forgive all plot holes, except for the one about Firouz not teaching Rongar sign language, because this was a fun episode and it has such a sweet ending. And someday maybe Doubar will have the loving relationship he deserves.

[fesahaawit]

Learning to See the World

Hello and welcome to slow travel week, friends! I’m in the middle of a two-week trip to NYC and Toronto (currently in Toronto), which are just two of the four cities I’ll be spending time in this month. As such, it makes sense that November’s slow living experiment is “slow travel”—and I have a handful of posts I want to share on this topic.

You’ll find two written by me on Tuesday and Thursday. But when I put out a call for guest posts in the summer, I received three related to travel. Based on the stories told and lessons shared, I found all five posts fit so well together that I’ve decided to share them all in one week! That’s right, five posts in one week. Slow travel week. ;)

The first is a guest post from my friend Holly. I think you’ll find it’s the best place to start. And if you like this topic, you might also enjoy Colin’s lessons on travel in Simple Year 2018. Early bird registration closes tomorrow at 12pm (noon) EST. It’s $199 USD (less than $17/month) right now, and will go up to $249 USD in January.

The regret started to creep into my thoughts as I drove the rental car south on highway 2. It was day 3, and we’d left the charming Art Deco city of Napier, New Zealand, early that morning. We were headed to Wellington for an overnight stay before boarding the ferry to the South Island. The spring sunshine cast a gentle light across my husband’s face as he slept in the passenger seat, and I found my eyes drawn to the small cafes of roadside towns, and the signs for wineries and hidden treasures just off the beaten path. I knew we had no time to spare, not if we were to keep to our timeline. But my heart cried out to stay.

I kept driving.

You see, I’ve always been a purposeful traveler. Since my first opportunity, an 8th grade class trip to Germany, I’ve felt the drive to see as much as I can, to make every effort to cross things off of my list and mark them as accomplished. And my type-A sightseeing wasn’t restricted to big international trips. When my family came to visit me in Boston, where I attended university, I marched them all over the city on a blustery day, until all of our feet ached and we opted out of the dinner reservations at the nice restaurant in lieu of couches and comfort.

As I checked more countries off of my list, I stayed focused. On work trips, I’d wake early to squeeze in a run around the city, or stay late to catch the closing hour at a museum or gallery. My coworkers were taken aback when I’d recount my stories of discovery, uncertain how I’d managed to squeeze in so much in so little time. If Alexander Hamilton wrote like he was running out of time, as Lin-Manuel Miranda put so beautifully to music, I traveled as if pursued by the same relentless beast.

This intensity was manageable when I traveled solo, although I often finished a trip feeling tired and strangely dissatisfied. But when I began to travel with my partner—now my husband—it became a point of conflict. Should we stay in our nice hotel room, with the windows open and the sounds of the sea in the distance for a relaxing nap before a walk to dinner? Or should we venture out once more to see another museum, church, piece of history? Whenever I compromised and allowed for the nap, my mind would continue to race, fueled by fear of what I was missing, unsure whether I’d be back in this destination, wondering if I was wasting my precious time.

It wasn’t until our trip to New Zealand in 2015 that I finally began to understand and wrap my head around this fear of missing out and how much it has colored my experience of travel throughout the years. It was on this trip that I began to look at “missing out” through a different filter, and to see how changing my approach to travel would actually allow me to have a much richer experience. I started to understand that the very question of missing out is a false one when it comes to travel. It’s like trying to solve a math equation, and expecting the response to be a poem.

But when I planned our trip to New Zealand, I hadn’t learned these lessons yet. New Zealand had been a dream destination for years. We had about 10 days for the trip, and I was intent on seeing as much of these amazing islands as possible. Even as I built our itinerary, my inner voice started to whisper to me that it was too much. I countered that we always enjoyed road trips. Ultimately, my planning brain won out, and we boarded the plane with 10 full days of trains, tours, boats, cars, busses, and even a helicopter ahead of us, everything planned out to the hour. We would see the main cities, the big attractions, and enjoy a few adventures. We would SEE New Zealand.

By the third day, it began to fall apart.

We spent a full day in the car without enjoying the main excursion planned for the day—exploring a cave. The overnight rain had flooded the caves and the guides assessed it wasn’t safe. We could try again tomorrow, they said. But we had reservations on the other side of the island, so we drove on.

We went for an evening run in Rotorua, the land of geysers and hot springs and sulfur, and spent an evening soaking in the thermal spas. But this relaxation was tempered by the early-morning wake-up and the need to get to the next destination. We both wished we could stay a little longer, see a little more.

By Napier, I was starting to see the impact of the itinerary in real time. Our hotel overlooked the ocean, there were wineries and fine restaurants and a lovely coffeeshop steps from our door. I wanted to stay here, to linger, to experience this town over a few days. Instead, we drove on.

I think it’s important to share that our trip to New Zealand was still an amazing experience. The occasional arguments and the stress of constant movement were overshadowed by the beautiful scenery, the delicious food, the nerdy joy of touring Hobbiton and our delight at the prisma green hills and sheep, sheep, everywhere sheep. We were amazed by the deep orange-yellow color of egg yolks from local chickens, impressed by the free water dispensers and glasses at every cafe, and welcomed by the friendly people at every stop.

But by the time we approached the end of our itinerary, something important had shifted inside of me. I called ahead, and cancelled the rest of our plans. I extended our rental car. I paid extra to stay another night in our final hotel.

And there, in a small town on the southern corner of the south island, I embraced the art of lingering.

We walked the main street. We visited the same cafe for breakfast two days in a row, savoring the coffee and the eggs. I went for a run along the shores of a lake, the forest sheltering me and soft bark carpeting the trail. We sat. We read. We savored. We ate an incredible meal with local ingredients and delicious New Zealand wine. While two days was far from enough time to truly enter into a relationship with this town and its community, it offered me an alternative way of traveling, a different perspective on what I was actually missing while I was so consumed with FOMO, and a vision of how much richer traveling could be.

Several years later, when I think back on this trip, I think it’s meaningful that the two moments I remember most aren’t the helicopter flight to a glacier or the glass of ale at the Green Dragon. The moments that stay with me are the sensation of my heavy heart in the car, driving southbound; and the perfect last day in Te Anau. I learned a lot about the history, people, culture, and nature of New Zealand on this trip; but I learned something perhaps even more important about myself.

This lesson hasn’t waved a magic wand over my life. When I travel, I still experience this anxiety of missing out. I still plan itineraries that encompass entire countries, all of the places and all of the things. But now, I’ve learned to take that plan, and distill it down. I’ve learned to ask myself some important questions that I’d love to share with you.

If I had to choose one experience in this country, what would it be?

How can I find a way to authentically enter into this place?

How can I design my trip—from my lodging, to my transportation—to maximize this experience?

What decisions will help me enjoy parts of the trip that I can’t anticipate from here?

Did I include some buffer time, for an unplanned exploratory run, a rough day of jet lag, an impromptu meeting or a delayed connection?

Is this a trip that meets the needs and expectations of myself and my travel partner(s)?

I’ve also learned to turn these lessons to my everyday life. It’s ironic that my driving pursuit of seeing everything when I’m on the road was mirrored by an indifference to sites closer to home. I’d realize that years had gone by without ever making it to that one museum, or that certain restaurant, or that specific park. So while I’ve tempered my younger travel persona and begun to identify the type of slow travel that works for me, I’ve also tried to engage more intentionally with destinations closer to home. Whether this means prioritizing a visit to a museum opening, stopping to enter into conversation with a local artist, or simply appreciating the diversity of unique, beautiful places within an hour’s drive, I’m slowly learning to truly see what’s in front of me.

As I look back on my past travels and look ahead to those in front of me, I think of the well-known quote from Marcel Proust:

“The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes.”

While I don’t intend to stop seeking out new landscapes, I hope that I can carry with me this new sense of perspective that will let me see more deeply the truth and reality in each destination.

Holly is a writer and yoga teacher who recently made the leap to a freelance life in northwestern Montana. She’s traveled to 37 countries so far, and has a relaxed itinerary planned for her next trip abroad. You can connect with her on Instagram and at her blog.

Learning to See the World posted first on http://ift.tt/2lnwIdQ

[fesahaawit]

Learning to See the World

Hello and welcome to slow travel week, friends! I’m in the middle of a two-week trip to NYC and Toronto (currently in Toronto), which are just two of the four cities I’ll be spending time in this month. As such, it makes sense that November’s slow living experiment is “slow travel”—and I have a handful of posts I want to share on this topic.

You’ll find two written by me on Tuesday and Thursday. But when I put out a call for guest posts in the summer, I received three related to travel. Based on the stories told and lessons shared, I found all five posts fit so well together that I’ve decided to share them all in one week! That’s right, five posts in one week. Slow travel week. ;)

The first is a guest post from my friend Holly. I think you’ll find it’s the best place to start. And if you like this topic, you might also enjoy Colin’s lessons on travel in Simple Year 2018. Early bird registration closes tomorrow at 12pm (noon) EST. It’s $199 USD (less than $17/month) right now, and will go up to $249 USD in January.

The regret started to creep into my thoughts as I drove the rental car south on highway 2. It was day 3, and we’d left the charming Art Deco city of Napier, New Zealand, early that morning. We were headed to Wellington for an overnight stay before boarding the ferry to the South Island. The spring sunshine cast a gentle light across my husband’s face as he slept in the passenger seat, and I found my eyes drawn to the small cafes of roadside towns, and the signs for wineries and hidden treasures just off the beaten path. I knew we had no time to spare, not if we were to keep to our timeline. But my heart cried out to stay.

I kept driving.

You see, I’ve always been a purposeful traveler. Since my first opportunity, an 8th grade class trip to Germany, I’ve felt the drive to see as much as I can, to make every effort to cross things off of my list and mark them as accomplished. And my type-A sightseeing wasn’t restricted to big international trips. When my family came to visit me in Boston, where I attended university, I marched them all over the city on a blustery day, until all of our feet ached and we opted out of the dinner reservations at the nice restaurant in lieu of couches and comfort.

As I checked more countries off of my list, I stayed focused. On work trips, I’d wake early to squeeze in a run around the city, or stay late to catch the closing hour at a museum or gallery. My coworkers were taken aback when I’d recount my stories of discovery, uncertain how I’d managed to squeeze in so much in so little time. If Alexander Hamilton wrote like he was running out of time, as Lin-Manuel Miranda put so beautifully to music, I traveled as if pursued by the same relentless beast.

This intensity was manageable when I traveled solo, although I often finished a trip feeling tired and strangely dissatisfied. But when I began to travel with my partner—now my husband—it became a point of conflict. Should we stay in our nice hotel room, with the windows open and the sounds of the sea in the distance for a relaxing nap before a walk to dinner? Or should we venture out once more to see another museum, church, piece of history? Whenever I compromised and allowed for the nap, my mind would continue to race, fueled by fear of what I was missing, unsure whether I’d be back in this destination, wondering if I was wasting my precious time.

It wasn’t until our trip to New Zealand in 2015 that I finally began to understand and wrap my head around this fear of missing out and how much it has colored my experience of travel throughout the years. It was on this trip that I began to look at “missing out” through a different filter, and to see how changing my approach to travel would actually allow me to have a much richer experience. I started to understand that the very question of missing out is a false one when it comes to travel. It’s like trying to solve a math equation, and expecting the response to be a poem.

But when I planned our trip to New Zealand, I hadn’t learned these lessons yet. New Zealand had been a dream destination for years. We had about 10 days for the trip, and I was intent on seeing as much of these amazing islands as possible. Even as I built our itinerary, my inner voice started to whisper to me that it was too much. I countered that we always enjoyed road trips. Ultimately, my planning brain won out, and we boarded the plane with 10 full days of trains, tours, boats, cars, busses, and even a helicopter ahead of us, everything planned out to the hour. We would see the main cities, the big attractions, and enjoy a few adventures. We would SEE New Zealand.

By the third day, it began to fall apart.

We spent a full day in the car without enjoying the main excursion planned for the day—exploring a cave. The overnight rain had flooded the caves and the guides assessed it wasn’t safe. We could try again tomorrow, they said. But we had reservations on the other side of the island, so we drove on.

We went for an evening run in Rotorua, the land of geysers and hot springs and sulfur, and spent an evening soaking in the thermal spas. But this relaxation was tempered by the early-morning wake-up and the need to get to the next destination. We both wished we could stay a little longer, see a little more.

By Napier, I was starting to see the impact of the itinerary in real time. Our hotel overlooked the ocean, there were wineries and fine restaurants and a lovely coffeeshop steps from our door. I wanted to stay here, to linger, to experience this town over a few days. Instead, we drove on.

I think it’s important to share that our trip to New Zealand was still an amazing experience. The occasional arguments and the stress of constant movement were overshadowed by the beautiful scenery, the delicious food, the nerdy joy of touring Hobbiton and our delight at the prisma green hills and sheep, sheep, everywhere sheep. We were amazed by the deep orange-yellow color of egg yolks from local chickens, impressed by the free water dispensers and glasses at every cafe, and welcomed by the friendly people at every stop.

But by the time we approached the end of our itinerary, something important had shifted inside of me. I called ahead, and cancelled the rest of our plans. I extended our rental car. I paid extra to stay another night in our final hotel.

And there, in a small town on the southern corner of the south island, I embraced the art of lingering.

We walked the main street. We visited the same cafe for breakfast two days in a row, savoring the coffee and the eggs. I went for a run along the shores of a lake, the forest sheltering me and soft bark carpeting the trail. We sat. We read. We savored. We ate an incredible meal with local ingredients and delicious New Zealand wine. While two days was far from enough time to truly enter into a relationship with this town and its community, it offered me an alternative way of traveling, a different perspective on what I was actually missing while I was so consumed with FOMO, and a vision of how much richer traveling could be.

Several years later, when I think back on this trip, I think it’s meaningful that the two moments I remember most aren’t the helicopter flight to a glacier or the glass of ale at the Green Dragon. The moments that stay with me are the sensation of my heavy heart in the car, driving southbound; and the perfect last day in Te Anau. I learned a lot about the history, people, culture, and nature of New Zealand on this trip; but I learned something perhaps even more important about myself.

This lesson hasn’t waved a magic wand over my life. When I travel, I still experience this anxiety of missing out. I still plan itineraries that encompass entire countries, all of the places and all of the things. But now, I’ve learned to take that plan, and distill it down. I’ve learned to ask myself some important questions that I’d love to share with you.

If I had to choose one experience in this country, what would it be?

How can I find a way to authentically enter into this place?

How can I design my trip—from my lodging, to my transportation—to maximize this experience?

What decisions will help me enjoy parts of the trip that I can’t anticipate from here?

Did I include some buffer time, for an unplanned exploratory run, a rough day of jet lag, an impromptu meeting or a delayed connection?

Is this a trip that meets the needs and expectations of myself and my travel partner(s)?

I’ve also learned to turn these lessons to my everyday life. It’s ironic that my driving pursuit of seeing everything when I’m on the road was mirrored by an indifference to sites closer to home. I’d realize that years had gone by without ever making it to that one museum, or that certain restaurant, or that specific park. So while I���ve tempered my younger travel persona and begun to identify the type of slow travel that works for me, I’ve also tried to engage more intentionally with destinations closer to home. Whether this means prioritizing a visit to a museum opening, stopping to enter into conversation with a local artist, or simply appreciating the diversity of unique, beautiful places within an hour’s drive, I’m slowly learning to truly see what’s in front of me.

As I look back on my past travels and look ahead to those in front of me, I think of the well-known quote from Marcel Proust:

“The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes.”

While I don’t intend to stop seeking out new landscapes, I hope that I can carry with me this new sense of perspective that will let me see more deeply the truth and reality in each destination.

Holly is a writer and yoga teacher who recently made the leap to a freelance life in northwestern Montana. She’s traveled to 37 countries so far, and has a relaxed itinerary planned for her next trip abroad. You can connect with her on Instagram and at her blog.

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