there was nowhere
in particular
that i had to be
or any real reason
for me to be
where i'd ended up
i had been wandering
most of the day
seeing the sights
but mostly trying
to see the city
in its truest

and so found myself
amidst the bustle
of little market stalls
lining either side
of the path leading
to the centre of
a neighbourhood park
i had wanted a coffee
and was ready to
continue my march
towards a flat-white
but urged myself
to rest my feet
to pause for awhile
and enjoy the theatre
of these unconnected lives
unwittingly intertwined;

the young couple
bartering at a stall
while the elderly pair
laughed in pantomime
as the girl passed by
struggling to control
her overexcited pup
sat there watching
i too had a role
playing a part
in their lives
that i would
never know

Dear diary;
I have thought a lot
about leaving this all behind
and buying a one-way ticket
to anywhere where no one
knows my name.
I want to forget who I am
and lose myself
in another's culture.
I want to stay until I tire
and do it all again
somewhere else.

i want to go back to tokyo,
somehow the city always feels like home, even when
i’m always a foreigner;
a touristy tourist with a camera on my hand,
snapping polaroids and selfies with a thousand filters
layered on top of each other,
to enunciate the beauty of the city and at the same time,
reinforce my place as a touristy tourist.

i want to go back to tokyo,
to feel the night breeze kissing my face,
or the scorching daylight next to the vending machine that sets my soul
ablaze;
hot and cold, cold and hot,
i don’t know whether to take my jacket or leave it at the bnb
but i know how cold i’d be,
at night when the sun’s asleep,
and i should be too, if i weren’t too busy loving tokyo.

Thirty three stones
stacked and painted
neon green, purple, grey.
The sun's blaze shimmering heat waves
back toward the flat landscape.
The magic pillars attract disciples
to their path,
bring color on a desolate drive.

March single file, up, up, up.
Take the stairs two at a time,
sweat beads run lines down your face.
Get to the tunnel carved in rock,
push past the crowds to break out,
then up, up, up
till you peak at the top,
the trail's end.
Survey the crater, lush, serene,
barricaded against the city
which spills between hills and mountains.
Forget it all,
turn to face the sea.

He watches them with amused scorn,
The tourists with their cameras
Factual guide books and audio tours;
Collecting his memories as their own
Walking from room to room,
Trying to sense his presence
Capture the essence of his spirit;
Ignoring the signs that say
Please don’t touch and
No photography.

He was a tourist who conquered worlds
Risked his life for his souvenirs,
Instead of visiting the gift shop
For some token piece of plastic crap,
Or magnet to put on the fridge door
As a reminder when they got the milk,
Of adventures they never had;
Wishing they could’ve walked
In the footsteps of the ghost,
Of a tourist.

Sometimes there's something jarringly disparate About the fresh sea salt fog and the beauty queen moon of the Monterey wharf.

Sometimes you need the painfully cold sludge of a Cleveland street with no sidewalks and the crying skeletons of trees to match your black coffee soul.

looking into
your eyes,
i wouldn't think
of getting lost
in them.

instead,
your eyes
are a getaway
where i find myself.

Let's just all stop judging each other okay?

I have a new challenge for you:

to amend your attitude, to not put others down for the things that erupt passion in their hearts.

When did it become the cool thing to look down on others because they show excitement for something?

I was recently thinking about the term 'tourist'. That word used to make me cringe. I hated the idea of being a tourist because I hated the idea of being the outsider, the person who isn't "from around here". In reality, however, we are all tourists. We can't be from everywhere and often times I still consider myself a tourist in my own town. I feel like "being a tourist" has gotten such a bad wrap. Often times the term is synonymous with "annoying" and "main-stream". I've heard people say, "Be a traveler, not a tourist." And I say, aren't they the same thing? Aren't they both people who are passionate about exploring somewhere  new? People spend so much time gawking at the tourists that kiss in front of the Eiffel tower or take photos in front of the Coliseum. How unfair is it for us to judge them for that? They are documenting a memory, their memory. They are fully immersed in the now. They are enjoying every last drop of everywhere they go.

It's disappointing to see so many people look down on others for the way they show their excitement and passion simply because it doesn't look like theirs. Just because you don't show your joy by taking a tour through the Louvre doesn't mean it's wrong. Sure, hidden gems of cities can always be cool and unique but that's not the only way to experience the world. Attractions are popular because they hold a value to so many people - if anything, that just makes it that much more worth it.

I myself, am more along the lines of getting off the beaten path and forging my own - but still floating back to earth a bit to see the views everyone's talking about. I know everyone travels differently and people are interested in other things - that's okay. That's what brings diversity and personality to the world. I'm not saying you need to conform and do what everyone else is doing, I'm just saying - don't judge others for how they choose to spend this life - but also, don't be afraid to spend yours how you want. Don't shy away from visiting Neuschwannstein Castle just because everyone goes there. Who cares how it looks to others? Only you. If we all spent a little less time judging others, maybe that would leave a little more time for enjoying the life we are in. You never know what is going to happen a week from now, a month from now, or years from now - so go do what excites your spirit - no matter how many or how little people do the same thing. Just go, explore the world, and be unapologetically you.