If you’ve travelled before, you understand what it’s like. It’s something that truly can’t be described unless you experience it for yourself. Growing up, I would constantly hear the travelling adventures that my parents went on. My mother’s experiences...
If you’ve travelled before, you understand what it’s like. It’s something that truly can’t be described unless you experience it for yourself. Growing up, I would constantly hear the travelling adventures that my parents went on. My mother’s experiences across Europe constantly came up when we were watching Getaway in our living room. A monument or a scenic location would appear on the screen which would be quickly followed with my mum shouting to the room “been there”. Oh how I envied her. The stories about America though were something else. I got to hear two sides, two versions, both with the same outcome. You see, America means something different to me. A lot of people just see the States as the patriotic country constantly screaming how free they are or as the place where many of their favourite shows, movies and characters are located. For me though; I know it as the location where my parents met and it's a piece of the travel pie that I always wanted a thick slice of.
New York City 1991. My mother boards a plane from Sydney, for a whirlwind trip around Europe, followed by the States. My father from Invercargill New Zealand to NYC, to take what is better known as a rite of passage in Australia, a Contiki. Contiki is a travel company that have pre-organised tours for you. It's a company that has been around for over 50-years and this wasn’t my dad’s first rodeo. Dad had done this very same trip before when he was 19-years old and was doing it again at 24. My mother though? A very dewy-eyed 22-year old excited to see what the States had in store for her. The trip was the Grand Southern. Starting in NYC, travellers make their way down the east coast and then all the way across the south to finish in LA. Who would think that 28 years later, I too would be doing the very same trip that my parents met on.
Let it be known that I didn’t plan for that to happen. Since the age of about 15, I always wanted to go to America. Hearing my parents talk about it, it was always encouraged that I travel solo and discover it for myself. So I did. One day I walked into my local travel agent, brought my Contiki book with my desired trip circled in bright pink highlighter, with coloured bookmarks on all other potential trips that just didn’t make the cut. An hour later, I had spent my time and all my money on a 5-week holiday that would take me across the ‘land of the free’. I arrived home and dumped all the paperwork and booklets on the kitchen bench where my dad suddenly walks over with a keen interest and starts flicking through.
“Booked America have you”, he asks with a smirk.
“Damn right I did”, I reply. “What Contiki did you book?”, “Oh, the Grand Southern. It goes for 26-days”. “Yeah, I know. It’s the one your mother and I met on”. *Internally screams. “WHAAAAAT!”
In that very moment, I felt empty. Not because I wasn’t excited to be going any more but because I didn’t know what to feel. What will this trip entail? Will there be pressure to meet someone? Will I enjoy it just as much as my parents did? Those questions and more suddenly washed over me and then I realised... I didn’t book this trip because my parents did the same one. I booked it because that’s what I wanted to do. My parents and I just happen to have great taste! I wanted to experience everything America had to offer. I wanted to see everything that my parents did and suddenly I knew it would be something that would connect me with them as an experience that the three of us could share.
October 2018 rolled around faster than you can imagine and there I am; 22-years old and standing in front of the departure gate at Kingsford Smith Airport. The very spot my mother stood in 1991 when she was 22-years old. She’s crying, I’m getting teary as she gives me a massive hug for a good minute and a half. We let go, I wave goodbye and turn around to what is now the 20-hour journey to the big apple!
The city that never sleeps was definitely one for the memory bank. I ticked off so many bucket list items. I saw the Knicks at Maddison Square Garden. I enjoyed a show on Broadway. I went on an open-door helicopter flight over the entire city, but one of the last locations that I went to was Ground Zero. A memorial set in place to remember those who lost their lives during the terror attacks of September 11, 2001. Standing there at Ground Zero was one of the most surreal experiences of my life because it was a totally opposite experience to what my parents would have had. Walking towards the site I could feel a change. A change in my surroundings, the atmosphere. I could feel my heart beat as everything around me started to slow down. For me, standing there looking around, it suddenly hit me. There I am taking in this gorgeous memorial, reading all the names of the people that lost their lives. But my parents would have had a totally different experience. 1991, they were looking up at the World Trade Center. 2018 was me looking down at what was and all that was lost.
It was these moments in New York that made me realise; I wasn't going to have the same experiences that my parents did. They didn't go to Maddison Square Garden. They didn't sit in a helicopter having their hair blown across their face and they didn't see Ground Zero, at least the same way I did. This trip was going to be exactly what I planned for. A trip for myself and a trip for me to enjoy and no one else. My parent's got their all-American apple pie, but I was going to make mine a deep dish with lashings of cream and covered in decadent butterscotch sauce.
It was these moments in New York that made me realise; I wasn't going to have the same experiences that my parents did. They didn't go to Maddison Square Garden. They didn't sit in a helicopter having their hair blown across their face and they didn't see Ground Zero, at least the same way I did. This trip was going to be exactly what I planned for. A trip for myself and a trip for me to enjoy and no one else. My parent's got their all-American apple pie, but I was going to make mine a deep dish with lashings of cream and covered in decadent butterscotch sauce.
My eyes sparkled and I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Years of working hard and saving had paid off. I thought that one day I would wake up and suddenly see that I was just waiting for my train to arrive to take me to work. But instead there I was. Amongst one of the most famous cities in the world.
There were many highlights of my trip. Rainbow Row in Charleston, sunny Miami, living out my Harry Potter fantasy in Orlando, celebrating Halloween in New Orleans, flying high in a hot Air Balloon in Albuquerque, livin’ it up in Sin City; the list could go on and on. But the greatest highlight of all (you may want to grab some crackers for the amount of cheese that I am about to serve) I got to share something with my parents. I finally got a piece of good ole' American pie only, my parents took a piece in 1991 and in 2018 it was my turn to have a slice. And if there's anything that America does well, it's pie.
