“Smell my fleece.” Andrew demanded. I kept seeing him sniff different parts of it while we had been sitting in front of our computers in the hostel lobby. The joys of backpacking are not limited to smelling each other’s clothes, shoes, bodies at various times. I leaned in.
“Was your fleece on top of your shoes? Because it smells like it. Right here.” I pointed to the left side of his chest.
“Not here… but, right. here.” I said after sniffing around his chest, noting that there is something seriously wrong with us that we are willing to do such activities without hesitation.
“I knew it! Ohmigod I can’t wear this today. We HAVE to do laundry!” He said, and then we went upstairs for him to exchange his smelly fleece for a scarf instead.
My friend Michelle recently asked and made the comment “How is it wearing the same clothes over and over again? These are the kinds of things that people who are too scared to do what you’re doing say is the reason they arent doing it.”
Sometimes, it’s not fun at all. I fall asleep thinking of the variety of shirts and jewelry and bags and heels I have waiting for me at home. Who needs to count sheep when one can lust after her own closet thousands of miles away. Wool sweaters that are too bulky to pack. Dangly earrings that aren’t meant for overnight buses or camel safaris in the desert. The cocktail dress that is not wrinkle free. My silver pointy pumps. My green ballet flats. My ‘moquestian’ boots. I miss my shoes the most.
This is when my Mom starts singing ‘Material Girl’ and I do not disagree. I miss it all. Sometimes I wear the same outfit for three days in a row because it’s the only thing I have that is warm enough. I can count on one hand how many times I’ve worn mascara on this trip. I’m pretty sure both pairs of my leggings (that I wear as pants, sorry Casey) have holes in them. And I still despise my backpack/daypack situation.
I miss having my own bed, clean sheets, and a pillow that is just right. I hate carrying my computer, DSLR body and three lenses around all of the time because I don’t feel it’s safe to leave behind in our hotel or hostel room. Relying on Skype to call your Mom or your best-friend is the WORST. Unless you keep getting sick in Nepal and India. In that case, that’s the worst. And you miss being able to safely lay down on the bathroom floor knowing you just scrubbed it a week or two ago and it’s relatively clean.
I haven’t cooked anything- as in follow a recipe and/or make something from scratch- since… August? I am officially ‘dog-crazy’ meaning I want one and have to have one right now. But I can’t because Andrew says it’s impossible or whatever while we’re traveling around the world. I miss wing nights and having a ‘place’ where you you go for a beer after work or to meet your friends for dinner. I miss my friends. Desperately. Especially of the girl variety because I’m tired of Andrew rolling his eyes whenever I mention movies starring Channing Tatum.
But.
Like I told Michelle, and like I remind myself constantly, it’s all temporary. And it’s totally worth it. Because when you’re walking through the Siq towards The Treasury in the middle of Petra, you’re not thinking about the closet full of clothes at your parents’ house. When you’re paragliding off the Himalayas, you’re suddenly not so worried about the backpack you’re going to have to pack up and haul around the country when you land back on the ground. And when you’re able to swap out a lens to get a close up shot of the kid hanging out on the Palestinian rooftop, you suddenly don’t mind having carried it around for the past four months straight.
