Alberto offered to give me a lift to the airport, which was really great of him. We chucked the boxed-up Stef in the back of the clapped-out Chevy and I was careful where I put my pannier bags. There’s a hole the size of a large suitcase on the rear left of the Chevy’s floor, Alberto reminds me not to put anything there or it will wind up on the road. We parted ways with a hug, I’m gonna miss Alberto and his clapped-out Chevy.

The airline was fine about taking the bike, for an extra sixty dollars. They wouldn’t let me take the bicycle lock for some reason. The plane made a wide arc across the island so it was possible to see the reefs I’d been diving on over the past month. I’m gonna miss Cozumel.

Today didn’t exist for me, I lost it at some point over the Pacific, probably during the three or four hours of sleep I managed on the way to Taipei.

I arrived in Singapore with plans to meet up with a friend, but of course I’d given them the wrong day, the day that didn’t exist for me. I took the free city tour just to get some sun on my face.

Flew into Perth just before midnight, almost two days after I checked in at Cozumel. Stef showed up on the baggage conveyor twenty minutes later, without a scratch.

I don’t know how I should end this, so I won’t even try. I was expecting myself to have some sort of insight or maybe feel a little enlightened but nothing. I am, however, feeling the happiest and most relaxed I can ever remember feeling. Happiness is all relative anyway. Happiness can be living in a place you love. Happiness can be grinding your own coffee beans in the morning before you brew that kick-arse wake up drink.