Hilary Billings is a Las Vegas scholar who became a nomadic adventurer after receiving 14 rejection letters into doctoral programs. Searching for answers on what to do next in her life, she works on Hollywood sets with A-list celebrities, travels the world, and recounts her unpredictable life in Las Vegas that involves one too many encounters with lions.
They have whittled the top twenty-five in each category down to three. After 14 days, 3,000 new Facebook fans, 998 miles, 350 new Twitter followers, 200 blog comments, 13 endorsements, 8 parks, 8 interviews, and 1 academy award winner… Continue reading →
G’Day, adventurers! Hilary here, your Park Ranger in Training!
Holy cow, has this been an adventurous two weeks.
I’ve traveled almost a thousand miles gathering endorsements, visiting parks, conducting “Park Ranger in Training” interviews, meeting experts, and immersing myself in all things Aussie. Continue reading →
G’Day, fellow adventurers! Hilary, your favorite “Park Ranger in Training”, here…
In my quest to become a knowledgeable and prepared Park Ranger, I’ve been doing A LOT research. On my mission to learn how to best ‘blend in’ with the locals, I received a little help from a very cool group of guys. They happen to have a headlining show here in Las Vegas. It’s no big deal. 😉 Continue reading →
After waiting for hours in a hammock, staring intently in the direction of Napoleon’s village, I successfully willed him back to The Beachouse.
Okay, so he really just woke up from his nap and decided to wander back. But I’d LIKE to pretend that it was my sheer concentration and my focus alone that swayed him to teach me how to make jewelry out of coconuts. Continue reading →
Fun. blared over the restaurant stereo. Motivated surfers paddled out to the reef break to catch morning waves. Other backpackers yawned over their morning coffee, hiding their hangovers behind their sunglasses.
As for me, I was on a mission.
I’d finally said goodbye to my Fijian family and made my way down the Coral Coast. I set up camp at a beachfront hostel appropriately (but none too creatively) called The Beachouse.
The boat engine revved, pushing us with great difficulty over the waves and choppy current. D’Tui sat in Ro Mereani’s lap. Sala and I squealed, huddled together on the floor as we hit each wave with a loud thwack. Water poured over the metal siding, filling the bottom of the boat with a thin layer of water.
Mereani wouldn’t let us sit on the bench and gave us a tarp to share. “You’ll bounce right out of the boat if you sit up there,” she cautioned. Continue reading →