Before I went, a colleague described Uluru as ‘spiritual and magical.’ She couldn’t explain why or what exactly she meant by that.
“You’ll when what I mean when you get there. You will feel … something.”
People have asked me what it was like there and I am similarly lost for words. I haven’t really talked about it and I keep telling people I’ll blog about it instead because every attempt at describing it has fallen short. The spoken word often betrays me and I have always said ‘I write better than I talk,’ but for the first time in my life I can’t even convey my thoughts and feelings in writing.
It has been 6 weeks since I returned home and I am yet to write a single word. Well, that’s a slight lie. I have written a few bits and pieces but every attempt has ended up crumpled up and thrown in the bin.
I simply can’t describe the significance of the place. Or even worse, I make it sound corny. But I’m going to try. I want to share my experience so I can encourage others to go but mainly so I can relive my magical days there and have a record I can always re-read.
You can find prices of activities and reviews of the accommodation anywhere on the internet. I want to write about how I felt a sensory overload. I had only travelled three hours on a plane but I didn’t feel like I was in Australia anymore, at least not the Australia I had grown up in. It felt like an alien planet in so many ways. The sights, sounds, smells, tastes and feelings were overwhelming and in my four days there they never once lost their appeal or stopped completely and utterly fascinating me.