Heather Corker

Recommendations for taking it slow and easy in the sunshine of Southern California

I’m happiest when I’m flying, suspended in the air.

I know a lot of people hate travel – or, they love the destination, but it’s the getting to the destination they find troublesome. TSA, long lines, cramped seats, little to no leg room for hours on end. The crying babies, the jerky train, the expensive meals ... the list goes on. And, yes, I’ve had my fair share of screaming babies, unfortunate middle seats, too much luggage, unexpected costs and a frequency of travel that has left my eyes bloodshot, skin dry and hair flat. I’ve felt uprooted and disconnected, forever flying away from some version of home.

But what I’ve come to realize, for me, is that traveling is home.

The mountain air was cool, with the bite of winter in the air. The area we were hiking had recently had it's first dusting of snow, covering the rocks and the yellowed grass with a layer of white which reflected the sun and caused the surrounding colors to pop as if someone had suddenly turned up the saturation; the cobalt blue of the lakes below, the deep green of the pines, even the speckled grey of the rocks. In the distance too we could hear the cowbells singling the location of the beasts from whose neck they hung, even though we could not actually see the animals through the hills.

There are three things I most remember about Mallorca; a beautiful wedding at a castle on a cliff overlooking the sea, laughing so hard my sides ached and cheeks suffered and hunting hidden beaches...

Five days in the French Countryside, bookended by Paris. 

New Orleans is a magical place. The dixie trees, the humidity that hugs you, the music in the air. 

The Icelandic landscapes are nothing if not dramatic. And while there was girly silliness, wonderful conversations with strangers and the discovery that shark tastes like something has rotted in your mouth, the landscapes remain most vivid in my memory.

At the end of July I took a holiday. I went halfway around the world to Australia - a place that, to me, seemed alright enough, but which I had no desire to really go - for whatever reason. But I needed out. I needed a break. I needed to find myself again. And, the thought of  place with white sand beaches and quality cafes thousands of miles away from my current reality and all that I knew, seemed, to me, like a good idea. 

I was expecting this trip to bring me clarity. To provide answers to all the questions that had been swirling around my head about work and relationships. To give me healthy habits back. To show me the value of time, of relaxation, of taking it easy. I expected to come back having found grace for my crazy landlord. This trip was going to sort me out.