I Wanna Be a Travel Writer - Secrets, Dreams & a Pair of Scissors: Jen turns 30 in Australia

"What are we doing today?" asked James, a senior stylist at Oscar's on the Queen Street Mall.

"A short bob, unless you think something else would look good with the shape of my face," I
replied.

"Do you blow dry," he said lifting my hair and turning my head.

"Nope. Maybe twice a week and that's a big maybe."

"Ok, a classic bob would be good for you then."

I started to wonder what I'd get, how I'd look and what new personality quirks I'd take on if I could muster the motivation to spend just a little more time on my hair.

It's my 30th birthday. I'm a million miles from home, or at least a continent away, and I'm
laughing quietly to myself that I'm even thinking about my hair. You see, my hair was supposed to be at least six inches longer than it is right now. Or so I thought two years ago...

"I'll let you in on a secret," I said to my cousin Julia while we excitedly caught up in her kitchen in Idaho after years of absence from each other's lives.

"I've never told this to anyone," I prefaced. It was the only secret I had left, but we were in a moment usually shared between sisters or best friends. I couldn't hold back from telling her.

"I'm growing my hair out for my wedding," I said smiling.

Julia didn't seem surprised so I continued on, "Long hair is prettier, I think, and I've been growing it out every since Joe and I started going out."

There wasn't an engagement ring in sight, or on the way for that matter, but I figured it'd take about two years to grow.

Julia was my cousin closest in age. We lingered in her kitchen swapping love stories. I looked around at her four bedroom house, the pictures of her and her husband, the studio out back and I wanted it too. I'd been wanting it since I was 16, I think. Or twelve. Maybe even when I was in the first grade and kissed Christopher Skull on the cheek.

Two weeks later Joe met me in Idaho. I wanted to take him to meet my family and see the affordable houses, but we drove in the other direction. So much for needing long hair.

I don't know what it is about the big three-oh. Is it American culture, mass media, or peer
pressure that places 30 as the milemarker for adulthood and domestic achievement?

When I was 22, some friends asked me what my five year plan was. I revealed that my dream was to have a book published, a ring, and a kid on the way. And to tell you the truth, I thought it'd be the book to hold me up.

So when I first came to Australia without any of those three things, I wondered how I'd celebrate my 30th. I thought it should be significant. Would I go back for another dive at the Great Barrier Reef, body surfing on the Sunshine Coast, or would I look for some kind of spiritual meaning away from the Pacific? A co-worker had told me about a pilgrimage spot in Toowoomba where he once saw Jesus. I thought about going, but what if Jesus didn't appear for me? Or what if he did?

Every time I tried to think up a plan, I got the nagging feeling that I didn't need to create a huge event for the big day. The fact that I'm even here is more meaningful than I'd been giving myself credit for. After all, I'd wanted to be roaming around for just as long as the other dreams.

Remembering the adventure I was on got me thinking about how solid I've felt since coming to Queensland...how apart from the time it takes to get familiar with new surroundings, I've felt more comfortable with myself here than at home. How could that be when where you come from is what makes you who you are? And Brisbane is miles away from where I was raised.

My friends back in California keep asking me why I like it here so much. But it's nothing that can fit into a guidebook description. It's personal. Here, I don't feel like some freak anti-feminist woman just because I appreciate men opening doors for women, or handing over their seats on a bus even when the woman is not pregnant or 90, or having a man give your order to the waiter in a restaurant. I like all that, always have. And here, more often than not, it's a way of life. But it's not just that, it's in the friendliness of the people, the color of the sky, the song of the birds, the pace that's got enough energy to be ambitious, but not so fast it'll give you a heart attack. All of this, a mix I haven't found at home yet.

So, as I sat in front of James while he cut two and three inches off, I smiled. Sure I was turning 30, and the beauty of that was that I was a million miles from home doing exactly what I wanted. Sure I hadn't reached my five year plan that I came up with when I was 22. But those five, come eight years were far from wasted. I'll get a family some day, and I'll write some books. But not on a schedule. Just like you don't know where in the world you're going to be when you feel at home.