Simple Drama

I LOVE telenovelas. Just ask the girls from 1923, especially Kaitlin, who came home most nights to me passed out in bed, blaring the Spanish channel. I love the dramatics, even though I can't always understand what they're being dramatic about.

I've settled into a routine here in Xela, and look forward to ending my days with Cuando Me Enamoro with my family. No matter what the day brings, I know that when I arrive home at 7pm, they will be planted in front of the TV hanging on every word. I drop my things, grab a cup of coffee, and join right in. So what if I have no idea what's going on? It's a chance for me to hang out with my family, and not have to think too hard about how to communicate with them. It's zoning out, except not zoning out because I'm trying so hard to understand why Roberta is yelling at everyone. The acting is less than good, but it's so entertaining.

I found a yoga studio, and get this...classes are only Q15, which is $2US. Two dollars for challenging legitimate yoga classes. I was very pleased with this discovery, and went promptly to my first class on Friday evening. Well wouldn't you know it? Guatemalan men apparently think I am doing yoga to find a husband. Obviously. Where else would I find one? After a great first class, I started to head home, and the guy who practiced next to me asked me on a date. I declined, not so politely this time, and he insisted on walking me home from class, telling me it's too dangerous for me to walk home at 7pm. I let him walk me halfway, chatting in Spanish, before excusing myself and walking to my fake house. It's bad enough that I'm going to see him in class (because I am not giving up these yoga classes), but I definitely don't need him to know where I live. He told me he was going to go to the late class on Monday night, so I went to the early one. Imagine my surprise when he showed up to the same one! I passive aggressively avoided him, and hopefully have solved this problem. It's funny how these guys don't give up even when I tell them about my pretend boyfriend. The better news is that Kevin, the guy who runs the studio has asked me to guest teach a few classes starting early next week. 

I am enjoying a simple life in Xela. I learned to wash my clothes using the pilla at the house. Next time I must remember not to wash it all at once, leaving myself something to wear while my clothes dry for a day. It only took me about 30 minutes to wash everything, and I had a serious sense of accomplishment when it was done. You don't get that with a washer and dryer. It's nice to go back to basics without a cell phone, and with limited email/internet access. I make plans by saying, "I'll be at such and such a place at such and such a time, or I won't. If I'm not, it means I've changed my mind and won't be joining you guys".  We have a 10-minute grace period for these plans in case something is keeping you. Thought let's be honest, most nights I'm in bed by 10 because I'm so exhausted from classes and verb tenses, and last weekend despite efforts to do awesome things, I came down with a cold and spent most of my time sleeping it off and drinking Emergen-C. I did go to a salsa lesson last week, and my confidence in my dance moves is gone. How do these people move their bodies this way? I felt like a 5-year-old, which is something that happens often in a place where you struggle with the language. 

There are a lot of moments when I am at a loss for words, or feel awkward, like when people are speaking so rapidly that I can't even understand one word. But that's what this trip is about, getting out of my comfort zone. As many challenging moments as I have, I can also see an improvement in my abilities in just a week. I have to struggle through the weirdness to master the language and to learn. I will be able to speak Spanish when this is all said and done, and come hell or high water, I will learn to Salsa. 

Learning another language is funny sometimes, especially when you totally miscommunicate something. Last night while talking with Lilian about their Christmas traditions, she told me that on Christmas Eve the children throw lunch meat. How peculiar, right? So I asked my teacher, Ruth, about it and she explained that they throw or set off fireworks. I just heard the wrong word. Then today, my classmate Sarah asked her teacher to fuck her when she is wrong. Again, a misrepresentation because what she actually wanted was for her teacher to correct her. 

I can't get over the views, but will keep taking pictures because one day I will miss them.

Sunset

my skivvies drying in my room

the pilla - lay the clothing in the right side, dump water on it, scrub with soap on rough surface, rinse, ring out

This is one side of my house. It goes until the red-barred window (which is my room).

This is the other side, which goes past the orange.

Good things come in weird aggravating packages

my first chicken bus - day trip to Salcajas

Due to warnings from my hostel, I decided against the chicken bus as a way to Xela (Shey-Lah), and paid the extra money for the shuttle service. Lesson: always ask if service is direct without transfers. Shuttles here are best compared to old VW vans, and mine was filled with 7 other male travelers. I was looking forward to my iPod, and a nap on the 4.5-hour journey. Imagine my surprise when they dropped me at a shady bus station in Guatemala City to catch the bus they forgot to tell me I was catching. To say I was livid is an understatement. But big girls don’t cry over such things, even when there is no toilet paper in the bathroom and you have to wipe with a torn piece of a map. Finally at 3pm I was on my way. Next lesson: sometimes the best things come when you least expect them. The road to Xela wraps up and around the highlands into the mountains. I think bus drivers here have to have some crazy in their blood to navigate the “highways” and pedestrians darting into the streets. I started worry because it would be dark when I reached Xela, but then the sun started setting. I won’t even try to recreate in words what actually happened, but the combination of clouds, volcanoes, mountains, and scenery made for the most astounding hour-long sunset these eyes have ever seen. Thank god I took the late shuttle, and ended up on the bus!

I got to school Monday morning after a great night’s sleep in a hotel. I splurged the extra $20 because I wanted to be rested for the week.  Orientation started at 8am, where we got all the info on the school and what to expect. I’m studying at PLQE, Proyecto Linguistico Quetzalco de Espanol, which is a non-profit Spanish language school which gives students an awareness of the social, political, and economic realities of Guatemala and Latin America, and has a history of working with human rights organizations. We had a history lesson on Guatemala, focusing mostly on its military struggle and the Peace Accords. I find it really interesting and was able to contribute some of my knowledge from my previous involvement with the SOA vigil while at UD. 

I got a piece of paper, stating the terms of my stay with Doña Lilian Chacon Ramos and her family. Her 10-year-old son Marco and 17-year-old nephew Mainor picked me up at 1. The house is about a 4-block/5-minute walk from the school. We arrived in time for lunch, and Lilian, the woman of the house, showed me to my room. We then joined Marcos, Mainor, daughter Wendy (9), and two other cousins, Heydi (13) and Denia (18). I later found out the kids have a winter break of 2 months, and the cousins are visiting until the end of December.  Lunch was a bit awkward as it was our first meal together, and involved me struggling through answering questions, and a lot of silence. Buen Provecho.

At 2pm I met my teacher Doris, and the mind fuck began (in a good way). There is no English in the class. If I don’t understand something, I find a way to say it in Spanish. It’s super challenging but I know it will be worth it. She gave me a test to figure out my level, and we developed a plan of study for the week. I will have a new teacher every week so I can work with different accents and teaching styles. At the end of the 5-hour session I thought my brain was going to fall out of my head. We are starting with the basics so I can review all that I have forgotten. Yesterday afternoon, I couldn't even speak English. My mouth was only producing word vomit, neither English or Spanish. But today, after three days of classes, I am not too overwhelmed, and am starting to improve already. Doris has a way of talking to me that makes me feel like I am much better than I really am. I feel like an adult, but know she is speaking Spanish to me at the level of a 5th grader. I appreciate that.

It’s much colder here than in Antigua, but the kind of cold that I like, circa late fall in New York. It’s probably 42 in the morning, and warms up to high 60s in the sun in the afternoon. My house is an open-air house, which is awesome, but also means the nights are pretty freaking cold. At night after dinner, I play games with the kids in the open courtyard. Monday it was an hour of hide-and-seek, and last night soccer until we lost the ball on the roof. They speak so quickly, and I can only understand about every 10th word, but Doris says if I keep listening and listening and listening it will get easier. Lilian's husband works in Guatemala City during the week, and returns on Saturdays to spend the weekend with the family. I will meet him along with Lilian's sister and brother-in-law Saturday. They are coming to stay for the month of December so it will be a full house. 

My classes got moved to the morning, so my schedule usually goes something like this:

6 - wake up, do some yoga so my body doesn't hate me

7 - shower

7:15/:30 - eat breakfast with Lilian

8 - start class

10:30 - morning break for coffee and bread

11-1 - finish class for the day

1:15 - lunch with the whole family

2-6:30ish - study/explore the city/nap/read/go on a trip with the school

7 - head home for dinner 

7-8 - dinner with the whole family

8-9 - play with the kids/watch a movie/TV

9-10 - study

10 - bed

my hostel in Antigua

top bunk on the right

hotel room in Xela

view from Salcajas - we took a day trip to the market and to see some weaving

said to be the oldest church in Central America - looks like a crime scene

I have never been so amazed by the work that goes into making something

the view at night from inside my house

Taking the mountains to the ruins

Tomas - and my short-lived trip to the ruin

I don’t expect to fit in. I expect to stand out a bit. I’m taller than most Guatemalans, and though I re-upped my summer tan in Miami, I’ll never be as dark skinned. Plus, I have a limited, functional wardrobe. In the last few days in the small town of Antigua, standing out has been exhausting, and I am looking forward to heading to Xela, which is a bigger city. Not that my height or skin color will change, but I won’t have as much of a chance of running into the same people all the time. That, or I’ll just get used to it. 

Knowing that the next week, starting classes and living with a family will be overwhelming albeit exciting, I’ve been trying to relax, and ease into my first days on the road. No day trips from Antigua, just walking around, taking it all in, reading, observing. I have a whole year to do. This week has been for acclimation to this new beautiful lifestyle.

It would be a shame to visit Antigua and not see the inside of one of the great ruins here, so I made my way to Convento de Capuchinas, attracting unwanted attention with my conservative travel skirt. You would have thought I was wearing a club mini skirt the way heads were turning. Mental note to think about this next time I want to wear it.  The convent was beautiful, and I realized that my Spanish reading skills far exceed any others, and going forward resolve to only communicate in writing.

After lunch, I ran into Tomas, a 34-year-old flute salesman I had met earlier in the day. Sometimes I curse the two mountains that make up my chest. Now I think they may have magnets in them. Surely, there are man magnets in my boobs. And some day, I will learn to listen to the reasoning side of my brain.

Tomas said he would teach me some Spanish. I accepted, knowing it would be either a positive experience or a great lesson. He paid Q10 for both of us to enter the ruins of the San Francisco church, and was dismayed when I insisted on giving him my half. I didn't want him to think I owed him anything. With Tomas' numerous hand-holding attempts, and googely eyes, I started to panic. When I told him about my "boyfriend" and then refused to climb higher up the ruin for a photo (up my skirt) he asked why I was nervous and didn't like photos. I fumbled for words to explain my discomfort. He turned to face me, placed his hands on my shoulders, "accidentally" grazing my boob with the outside of one hand. Enough. I started to walk away as he tried to hug me and my chest got in the way again. I wonder what he might have gotten out of that, but didn't care to find out. 

But let's stop for a moment, now that I'm safely out of the situation. If I'm a guy, and I want to touch your boobs, and I know you're probably not going to like it because you've made it very clear that this whole situation is inappropriate and told me about your fake boyfriend, and you're walking away, and I might get slapped anyway, I would probably grab a whole handful to make it somewhat worth my while. Just saying.

So. Now. I know. You live, you learn. 

I came back to the hostel, and now will not venture out on my own without my Aussie friend Alison. I am not afraid, but I’ve made enough “friends” in this town for one week. When you’re with someone else, people are less likely to approach you. Sometimes, this is a necessity. We went to a charity concert last night, which turned out to be more of a US frat party dropped in a great open-air bar. The music was good, and Alison won us a free lunch in the raffle, which we collected today. We ended the night at Café No Se across the street from our hostel. It’s a great bohemian, candle-lit, music-filled bar packed with travelers and locals alike. It’s become our stomping ground.

Tomorrow I set off for Quetzaltenango to move in with my Guatmalan family. I have been back and forth on my decision to brave the public buses or take the shuttle. I think I’ll choose adventure since I didn’t make any new friends today.

The best news of my day was an email I received this morning. I submitted a piece to one of my favorite travel websites, The Lost Girls World, and heard from one of the founders today. I'M GOING TO BE ONE OF THEIR LATIN AMERICAN CORRESPONDENTS!!! I'll work with an editor to write an article/post every other week now through the end of December. I couldn't be more excited. Check them out here: http://www.lostgirlsworld.com

Arch of Santa Catalina with a view of Agua Volcano

Badass drummer from the band last night

On a walk today with Alison, not making new friends

Nick Lachey and My Friends in Antigua

Stepping out of the airport in Guatemala City is unlike anything I've experienced before. It's how I imagine Nick Lachey must have felt in Newlyweds that one time he went home to Cincinnati and had to deal with all the paparazzi when he was just trying to go to lunch with his family. Except in my case there were no camera flashes, and no one yelling for Nick Lachey to look at them. So I guess it's really not that much the same.

From inside the sliding automatic doors in the airport, I could see hundreds of people standing behind metal barricades, waiting for passengers to exit. Some of them I assume were there to welcome home their loved ones, some stood with hand-written signs with travelers' names, and the others just waited for me to step outside that barricade so they could kidnap me. No, not really.

As I came out, the security guard asked me, in Spanish, which I had been preparing for on the short walk from baggage claim, where I was going and how I wanted to get there. Shuttle was my response because I knew it to be the cheaper option. He said a taxi is the best way because he knew it would be more expensive. I insisted on shuttle, so he fed me to the shuttle wolves. The moment I crossed the barrier, there were 8 men in my space convincing me the theirs was the best shuttle. Holy overwhelming. The only reason I chose the one I did was because he was like Superman and swooped me out from the middle of the bidders and led me to his van. Sold.

I met an Aussie who has been traveling for almost a year on the ride to Antigua. I don't know that he realized how lucky he was to meet my acquaintance in the moment. But he sure did appreciate me later when I literally ran into him, flailing his arms, running down some random street (Phoebe style from Friends). I smiled in recognition, and was quite pleased when he said he had been looking for me. Apparently, he was so absent-minded, that he left his pack in the shuttle, and remembered that the driver had given me his card. So he was racing around Antigua looking for that phone number, and by dumb luck ran into me. How do you leave your only bag, your whole big bag with everything in it in the car? Who am I to judge? Travel lessons 1 & 2: don't leave your bag in the shuttle, and always, always take the driver's card in case you do.

I have an affinity for making friends with the locals. Every time I have sat down in a public space to journal or take it all in, I have found myself with company. Yesterday it was Federico, a man of about 50, who stopped me on the street and asked if I had a moment to chat. I agreed to with a quick scan of my surroundings. His friends thought it was funny to drive by repeatedly and congratulate him on his young gringo girlfriend. Later in the afternoon Delfina and her 9-year-old daughter Sylvia sat down next to me after I politely refused the bracelets they were selling. Sylvia spoke rapidly in Spanish, and I spoke slowly, feeling like a child myself with no words. 40 minutes later, she tired of my broken skills and started in with the bracelets again. I bid them adieu. My third and probably best friend is Francisco, 62, who sat with me this morning in the park. He inquired about my life, my travel plans, my boyfriend, and told me all about what I understood to be his freelance real estate business. (it would be interesting to have an interpreter on hand, Francisco probably builds pools for a living and I just am that clueless.) He then offered to show me all the sights in town assuring me of his status as an honest Catholic man and genuine friend. I thanked him as he gave me his phone number in case I need anything. With a kiss on the cheek I was off. Later this afternoon I figured out that to be alone I have to sit in some place random where people just look at me questionably.

Antigua is beautiful, everything I imagined it to be. I am enjoying a lot of walking around and taking it all in, while convincing myself I do not need all of the hand-woven sweaters and blankets. I want to buy everything. It's all so vibrant and colorful.

I cannot wait to start classes next week and really be able to work on my Spanish. I am getting by pretty well, and think that with every random interaction I am learning something new. The great thing about Guatemalans is that they have been patient with me, and correct me if I say something wrong.

I had a moment yesterday when I actually said to myself in my head, "man, it feels like I'm in another country". 

the view from my secluded corner hangout

Iglesia de San Francisco where a mentally handicapped man tried to get me to help him break open a gate

Parque Union where I met Sylvia and Delfina

TOMORROW

Tomorrow morning, I am flying to Guatemala. That makes me want to pee my pants a little.

I can't believe this is happening. I have been planning and talking and thinking about this for 2 years, and I'm about to make my dreams come true.

I have never been so anxious or excited for anything in my whole life.

I'm going to spend the evening reminding myself to breathe.

Next time you hear from me I'll be on the road.

Holy shit.

T-Rex and Morality Checks

Blah, blah, blah, I have a blog. Blah, blah, blah…MEHHHHH! 

The planets aligned this weekend, bringing together a unique dream team and reality TV hopefuls, K-Lo and MatTony. We kicked off the weekend with some Four Loco, a Cava toast to Matt’s new home, and some Arby’s beef and cheddar heartburn.

After a lesson in Machu Picchu geography from Tony, who we now refer to as Tenacious T, we hit the dance floor at Yabbas where we discovered some guest stars, Small Hands Maria and Fat Elvis.

Had I been wearing socks, they would have been knocked off by the dancing “pet the dog” performance a la Matt and Tony on the dance floor. And I thought I had dance skills. It has been proven that I need to continue working on said dance skills as I couldn’t master the full tap dance/hula hoop move.

After a hydraulic, Slim Jim filled ride home with our shirtless co-pilot we took our seats on the back patio, sans Lauren who needed sleepy time. Matt left us following an inspiring rendition of some Tenacious D. TT and I continued to question morality and taxes, and finally called it a night after the rooster crowed for about an hour and then the sun came up. Seriously.

On Saturday, despite our big plans to head to the beach or perhaps jaunt to the Everglades for an air boat ride, we traded in productivity and hygiene for a day of movies, napping, and grilled cheese sandwiches. We actually didn’t move from the 20-foot radius of the porch, kitchen, or living room until 9:30 when we decided to get our bowl on. What can I say, we’re a simple posse. And there is no better entertainment or ab workout than the 4 of us sitting around that table for a combined total of at least 10 hours. Believe the hype and get us that reality show.

The swanky bowling lounge was the scene for our ball rolling adventures and continued infancy. Lauren took some “lessons” from Matt, which involved some serious hip guiding and heavy petting, but she seemed to improve as the night went on. Who could blame them? Self-posed cell phone photos of the chin-gina and hairy-elbow-butt elicited monumental levels of doubled over laughter and a whole new level of hysteria. In a test to gauge our sanity, we offered up the photos to a drunken patron on the patio, only to be greeted with mad pelvic thrusting and stories of his boy's camel toe. Twice.

After many a great deep conversation, mostly intelligent ones concerning cocks, bubble baths, bubble beards, and reverse bulimia, the weekend was coming to an end. We ended on a high note with the “gas special” at Nana’s. After one final claw moment and some hugs, the dream team sadly disbanded. After a well-deserved day at the beach Lauren and I are recovering with copious amounts of snacks and other goodies. It’s a don’t ask don’t tell solution.

I couldn’t imagine a better way to spend my last weekend in the States. These peeps are sending me off in style, and I didn’t even know two of them when I got here. And who knows? Maybe when I come back I’ll take Matt up on his offer to build a palm tree house in his backyard. Cause what’s a little dog vomit between friends?

Also – as I’m turning my phone off tomorrow, you can now reach me at 555-MEHH.

MaTony at the mini park

K-Lo reunion time

bowling shoes. shout out to Tenacious T for the socks

juggle face

juggle skills

MEHH photo shoot take 1

MEHH Part Deux

MEHH to the 3rd power

get well soon or something

MEHH I'm a T-Rex

My not so little sister

My sister is amazing. Sometimes it’s hard for me to remember that she’s an adult, and a grown woman who has her own life, and who doesn’t need me to help her make decisions. We always joked as kids that I was the mother hen, an idea we got from watching White Christmas a la the Haynes sisters. I have had to find a balance over the years between being her friend and confidante and “mothering” her. What she needs from me is support and love in all she does, not to challenge everything. She has a mother to mother her, and now is the mother of not one, but two incredible little girls.

As a part of my hiatus in between the bike trip and my international journey, I’ve been blessed with time to spend with Jess, her husband Jason and their 3-year-old daughter Cameron, who blows me away on a daily basis. I got to spend time hanging out with Cam, and was able to be in Miami when they welcomed their new daughter, Isabella, to their family.

Now, having no kids of my own, I have grown to love Cameron in a way I didn’t think was possible. And have absolutely no doubt the same will go for little Bella. I am so thankful for Jess and Jason allowing me to be present for this monumental event. But more than anything, I want to give the two of them a shout-out. Jess and I couldn’t be more different, but we have made it through at lot of ups and downs in the past. Over the last few years, I am lucky to count her as one of my besterest (that means the best of the best) friends. I am so thankful to have her in my life, and to have had the chance to see her in action as a mom and wife. Similarly, I have had the joy of getting to know Jason in the past years, and have grown to admire and love him for being such an attentive and caring husband and father (and of course brother-in-law).

Cameron is as wonderful and charming as she is because she has two extremely loving and patient parents in Jess and Jason. I have been constantly amazed at their strength and vigor in overcoming obstacles, and creating a great life for their family. No matter what happens, they always come out on top, as a united front, and I am beyond impressed with their ability to persevere. Cameron and Isabella are fortunate to come into this world unconditionally loved by their parents.

So here’s to you Jess and Jason. I am in awe of you guys, and how much you do in your every day. If I am ever a mother, I hope I am half as good as my sister. Much love today and every day to the Thomas family.  Thanks for putting up with me for 3 whole weeks (not to mention the last 26 years)!

And without further ado, I present to you pictures of Bella and Cam the time I got to spend with them

 carving punkins

 woody and woody - not jessie

 "reach for the stars"

 cam teaching me how to do crafts

 me and jess and little bella...6lbs 3oz

 cam kissing bella

 the thomas family

 bella on her way home

 cam being a big helper feeding bella

 cam holding her baby sister

1

 tea party!

 my nieces...my loves

 daddy and bella sleeping

.  she looks a lot like her sister

All my bags are packed I'm ready to go

I can't believe it! Only 10 days until I board my plane for Guatemala to begin this year-long (give or take) journey. I've alerted my credit card companies/bank of my plans, purchased travel insurance, booked my Spanish classes, and made all the other necessary arrangements for my trip. The thing I've been most worried about is the packing situation.

What do you pack for a year on the road? I've been asking myself this since I decided to embark on this adventure. I've read countless packing lists and blogs, and asked anyone I know who has had a similar experience. The tips I got most were this:

1. Buy a smaller pack. If you have something big, you're sure to over pack. And remember, you have to carry it on your back. You'll be sorry if it's too big and heavy.
2. Lay out everything you think you'll need, then cut that in half, and take only those things.
3. Make sure you have room for purchases on the road.
5. Don't pack any clothing you can't layer or mix and match.
6. Whatever you decide to take, it will be enough. Don't stress. Even if you forget things, you can always buy them on the road.

Easy for them to say. I made a packing list about 3 months ago, and have been perfecting it since, adding and deleting as I ponder what I should leave behind. I took a lot of this advice, but made personal adjustments according to my needs.

It turns out that my anal list-making was helpful. The last 5 months since leaving NYC and living out of a suitcase coupled with wearing the same 3 outfits all summer on Bike & Build made the packing fun much easier. Packing was surprisingly simple.

Here's what I decided on:

Clothing:
3 t-shirts
3 tank tops (one dressier)
1 long sleeve light weight shirt
2 pairs of shorts (1 athletic, 1 regular/hiking)
1 pair of long hiking pants
1 pair of jeans
2 travel skirts
1 pair leggings
1 micro fleece
1 rain jacket
5 pairs underwear
3 pairs of socks
2 sports bras
2 regular bras
1 swim suit
1 knit hat
Chaco sandals
Hiking/athletic shoes

Toiletries:
shampoo/conditioner/body wash
sunscreen/moisturizer
toothpaste/toothbrush
comb
deodorant
razor

Miscellaneous:
super glue
duct tape
sewing kit
safety pins
pocket laundry soap
tiger balm
eyeliner
hair ties/bobby pins
nail clippers/tweezers
lip balm
extra zip lock bags (2 sizes)

combo locks

clothes line 

universal sink plug

spoon 

lighter

headband/bandana

silk sleep sack

Pak towel

head lamp

blow-up neck pillow/eye cover/ear plugs

First aid kit:
cold pills
ibuprofen
Cipro
antibiotic cream
benadryl
band aids
pepto
emergency tooth kit
emergen-c
tampons

Electronics pouch:
converter
portable hard drive
alarm clock/calculator
camera cord/charger
thumb drive
extra memory cards

Day bag:
sunglasses
guide book
journal/book to read/pens/glue stick
passport
wallet
camera
hand sanitizer/tissues
computer
ipod

While pack shopping, all of the outfitters tried to sell me a bigger pack, just as the guidebooks promised. But I held my ground, and went with a 50L pack by Gregory. (the book suggested 35-50L, and I couldn't imagine only 35L) It's a top-loader, but has a great side pocket so I can reach anything in the pack at all times. I made sure to go to the store and try it on to make sure it fit right. It is going to be my best friend for the next year, and I want to make sure it's going to be comfortable.

For my day bag, I chose an over the shoulder messenger bag. I got this in hopes of looking less tourist-y and because I feel it's easier to keep track of than a backpack that I can't see when wearing it.

The shirts, pants, and shorts I packed are all quick-dry materials except for my jeans. This was a hard thing to find. I don't want to look like I'm going running every day, but don't want to take cotton clothes because they don't dry as quickly. I found what I like to call "magic shirts" from a New Zealand company called Icebreaker. They were super expensive, but I found them for 50% off, so it was a no-brainer. The guy at the store says you can wear them for a month without them smelling as they are stink-proof. Seems kind of gross, but I'm sold. Plus, they're v-neck, and look totally normal. Many people have warned me against packing jeans because they are heavy and don't dry quickly, but I can't imagine living without them for a year. If they become a pain, I can always leave them or send them home. All my clothes can be mixed and matched and worn together, and it won't always look like I'm heading to the gym.

I chose to pack my computer in order keep track of my photos and for blogging ease. I have accepted the fact that this along with my iPod may make me more of a target for theft, but I have made peace with the fact that both items could be stolen. They are only material things, and I can buy new ones when I'm back to the real world some day. I will back everything up on my portable hard drive, and will upload photos on the road to my MobileMe site. I will keep the hard drive in my pack, separate from my computer, which will be in my day bag. This way if one gets stolen, I still have all my photos.

I had a debate with myself over footwear. A lot of what I read said that one thing people regret packing is too many shoes. My Chaco sandals are an obvious choice. They are supportive enough that I can wear them to walk around all day, on hikes and when it's raining, and can be worn with something dressier if need be. I was going to pack only those, but after a lot of conversations, I decided that closed-toed shoes are good for longer hikes and colder weather. As my cousin Robin said, sometimes your toes just want to be covered. I didn't want to pack my heavy hiking boots because they're too big and bulky, so I went for a smaller pair of lightweight athletic/hiking shoes.

With all this packed, I still have some room leftover. My bag is small enough that I can carry it on planes and compact enough that I can fit up and down plane/bus/train aisles without slamming people in the head. And it's not too heavy.

here's everything all ready to go

I used stuff sacks to better organize everything... one for clothes, socks/bras/underwear in another, toiletries together, fleece/rain jacket, and the last one for electronics (which are now in a water proof bag)...computer/iPod will go in the canvass bag

After 2.5 years of anal money management and saving plus a year of meticulous planning, I'm just about ready to go. All I have left to do is turn off my phone and get travelers checks to pay for my Spanish classes. I've decided that my AT&T plan of $100/month is an expense that will take away from activities on the road. I'll use email, Skype, Facebook, and my blog to communicate with my people along the way. Plus, I'm afraid I'll overuse my phone and forget to immerse myself in this once-in-a-lifetime experience. I'd rather be chatting with locals than getting lost in my phone. If I find I need it, I can get a cheaper prepaid phone on the road.

The art of unplanned planning turns out to be somewhat of a challenge for me. As a project manager by trade, I tend to be pretty organized and a slave to process, schedules and deadlines. It's a big step for me to let go and go with the flow. I've planned a loose itinerary of where I want to go and things I want to see, but know I want to be open to whatever comes my way. Who knows where the next year will take me!

Breaking and entering minus the breaking

Turns out I'm way more street smart than my Mom ever gave me credit for. She always said I was book smart, but couldn't find my way out of a paper bag. Cheers to me traveling solo for the next year, huh?

I have skills I didn't even know about. Skills in breaking and entering. This is really good for me, not so great for my sister and brother-in-law and their confidence in their home security system.

Cam and I took a late night trip to the hospital to see her new baby sister, Isabella Grace. (more on that tomorrow) Jason put a sleepy Cam into her car seat, and we made the trek home around 12:30 am in a crazy rain storm. About half way home the orange gas light blinked on, and I panicked. You see I have quite the track record for running out of gas. I always give the car the benefit of the doubt that it will make it to where I need to be first. Thankfully, I didn't risk it this time.

We arrived home, full gas tank, around 1:15, and I went to open the garage, over-excited to hit the pillow. I was mighty pleased with myself when we left the house because I turned the latch on the garage so I would be sure I felt safer coming home alone so late. What I didn't realize is that you have to have a key to unlock the latch on the garage, a key which I do not have. I suppose those are the street smarts I'm missing.

I quietly jumped out of the car so as not to wake Cam, expecting to quickly open it and glide through the door, making my bedtime dreams come true. Locked. For real. Enter a lot of cursing here. Assured that the car with my sleeping beauty was secure, I jogged to the front of the house, vigilant of frogs, lizzards, and other creepers, damn well knowing I locked the front door, too. And since it's South Florida and hot as hades all the time, they never open the windows around here, so as you might well assume, they are locked too. The pole to secure the sliding patio door was diligently in place as I had left it also.

I called Jess and Jason about 100 times, but they are tired and sleeping as they should be. The thought of sleeping in the car was way more appealing than driving back to the hospital to get some keys. Just as I was about to give up hope and do something (I hadn't totally processed what yet), I decided to try the small window on the patio. I popped the screen out after about 7 minutes of struggling with it, and the window slid open. And all I could picture was Cam waking up, screaming for me, and me stuck in this small window because my rack is so stacked and wouldn't fit through. But after creatively maneuvering myself and my rack through the window I was safe. Ben was excited to see me, and didn't seem to think it was weird at all that I was coming through the window. He would not make a good guard dog. He would just lick someone to death.

So anyway, don't worry, we made it home. And I didn't get stuck in the window even though I'm well endowed.

How to be a big girl

After a melodramatic phone call, time delay, doc swap, deployment fib, and hospital change, Baby Girl Thomas is scheduled to be induced to make her way into this world tomorrow, November 4, 2010. We are all very excited and anxious for her arrival. Jess and Jason will go in at 6am tomorrow, and Cam and I will occupy ourselves until we get a phone call to come meet #2, who will receive her name upon arrival. We are very hopeful it will all happen tomorrow, but either way, we shall meet her in the next few days!

Cam tells me that when her little sister arrives, she will teach her all the things big sisters are supposed to pass on to their siblings. Things such as..."how to be a big girl", "how to share toys", "how to eat like a big girl", "how to sing songs", and other adorable lessons. I've gotten her on video twice telling me these things. I couldn't choose just one.