Keeping a Journal

Those who know me well know I am an avid journaler.  I got serious about keeping one when I traveled to Europe in high school, and since then my journals have evolved and grown into an integral part of my life.

My history with journaling began before I could write.  On family trips my mom would sit down with me and my brother every night and write as we dictated our entries to her.  Obviously the practice stuck with me, as I even made mini journals for my stuffed animals.  

On my trip to Fiji, I kept a journal--for exactly one day.  Granted I was only 8, but when I found the little red and while book years later I knew if I ever traveled again I would write religiously.  While I remember quite a bit from that trip, many of my memories are pieced together from photos and stories my parents have told me.  I know there is so much that has been lost by not writing down my thoughts. 

The only entry I wrote in Fiji

Europe Journal 2008

Months before I left for my Europe trip I was wandering through my local art store and stumbled upon a book about bookbinding.  I flipped through the book, completely absorbed, until my mom pulled me out of there.  For weeks after I had dreams of sipping tea in some hidden restaurant in Paris, the Amelié soundtrack played softly in the background, while I wrote in my well-worn, leather-bound journal.  Not long after, I went back to purchase the book along with all the necessary supplies I would need to make a journal of my very own.

I had no idea what I was doing, but somehow I managed to make a book that stayed together.  It was massive, but I carried it everywhere during my 3 week long trip.  I collected stamps, stickers, tickets, and brochures, and filled my pages with doodles and maps of the places we stayed.

Journal Spread Paris 2008

My journal from Europe 2008 was Journal #3, and I just finished assembling Journal #12- Europe and Africa 2014.  I'll post pictures of my latest journal in a separate post, as I'm really pleased with how it turned out.   I can't wait until it's completely full and brimming with memories from my next adventure!

Journaling must be in my blood, because my mom kept a journal when she went to France in high school.  Can you believe she only took $130 with her for a full week in Paris?

The Path to Morocco- Part 1

The short story is that my European trip just became an international one.

The long story is that a while ago I realized that I was having some reservations about my trip.  I have always been excited about the opportunity to travel for such an extended period of time, but I realized that something was holding me back.  There are places I'm dying to visit, and monuments I'd love to see, but I never really wanted to spend almost 4 months simply sightseeing.

About a month ago I was rushing off to my nannying job and realized I didn't have anything to read at the doctor's appointment I was taking the kids to, so I grabbed a book off my shelf.  The Art of Pilgrimage: A Seeker's Guide to Making Travel Sacred.  The book is basically what you'd expect.  Lots of Rumi quotes with a dash of Buddhist philosophy on top--complete with generously applied underlining and exclamation points in the margins in bright red pen from the previous owner.   While it was a bit excessive at times, when I reached the chapter titled "The Call of Destiny" (I know, I know, I rolled my eyes too), I couldn't put the book down.

During my car ride home, the best place for thinking second only to a hot shower, my mind was buzzing.  The chapter focused on discovering what your true passion or purpose is, and making your travels focused on that.  I am passionate about animals and art and psychology and a million other things, but what I kept coming back to is the work I've done with children and adolescents.

I thought about the girl I mentor who is in every way like a true little sister to me.  How she bought me a Doctor Who necklace with her carefully saved money because she thought of me when she was at the mall.  How she shyly and proudly presented it to me as soon as I picked her up the next day.

I thought about the kids I nanny and how--without even realizing it-- my job went from a way to save up to my trip to an integral part of my life.  How that afternoon the 12-year-old had followed me around the living room, resting her head on the arm of the couch where I was sitting.

I thought about the girl my mom and I sponsor who lives in Kenya.   How she wrote a letter saying she was proud she had a sponsor so she could continue her education.

I thought of the girls who were adopted from foster care who received dolls I made as a Christmas gift this year.  How they drew me pictures and wrote how they tell their dolls their worries every night before bed.

And I realized this is it.  This is why I exist.  This is why I survived all the struggles I went through in high school, even though I didn't realize it at the time.

I dedicate my free time to volunteering and helping at-risk children.  My major and future career path are structured around giving back and helping kids who need it most.  Why not make my trip about that too?

5,968,800 Seconds

In two months and a little over a week I will be boarding a plane for another continent and leaving behind the city where I have lived for more than 21 years.  I like to think of myself as adventurous, as someone who likes to explore new places and meet new people, but the truth is I love familiarity.

I like the way the banana with peanut butter tastes every morning when I eat it for breakfast.  I like knowing exactly where they keep the cilantro in the grocery store one block from my house.  I like waking up every morning under the quilt my cousin made me, with my dog's whiskers tickling my ear.  I like knowing exactly how much it costs to mail a letter, all of my neighbors' first names, and when the leaves on the gingko tree across the street from my house turn yellow in the fall.
Leaving my life for several months, saying goodbye to family, friends, my beloved dog, and flying half way across the world terrifies me.  And that is exactly why I'm doing it.

I bought my ticket in November and promptly put it out of my mind.  I needed to focus on school and work.  "You'll plan more after the semester is over," I told myself.
Well, now the semester is over.  But I still have work.  And some loose ends to tie up for school.  And I need to decide what university I'll be transfering to next fall.  And I have to return books to the library.  And go to an eye check-up appointment that I was suppose to schedule in September.  Life keeps moving and I have no idea where I'm going to be sleeping in three months.
I have a stack of guide books to read, hostels to research, shoes to buy.  I have to decide if I'm taking my cell phone, if I need travel insurance, and, oh yeah, which countries I'll actually be visiting.
For years I've lived in the same house, slept in the same bed since I left a crib and although I'm definitely excited, the reality of traveling so far away by myself is really sinking in.

I've been abroad before, but I really struggled on my last international trip.  I was 16, traveling with a friend's family and dealing with undiagnosed health problems.  Pretty much a recipe for disaster.  Almost every journal entry from that trip talks about how homesick I was, I cried at least once a day, and by the time I returned I had racked up hundreds of dollars in phone charges calling my family frequently.

I realize I am much stronger, more stable, and happier than I was during that period in my life, but that's partly due to a carefully crafted regimen. Yes, I am stronger now, but I am also more careful about taking care of myself, and traveling will throw that all out of whack.

I am hoping that this semester will be one where I discover just how strong I really am.  I know no matter what happens it will be a life-defining, monumental experience, but I would be lying if I said I wasn't having some major anxiety about it.

I've got 68 days before I set out on the biggest adventure of my life so far.  So stick around! I'm going to Europe!