(re)Adjusting to America

It hasn’t been easy (re)Adjusting to America. I’ve been overwhelmed by everything from thick bath towels longer than I am tall (ok, almost), Keurig coffee makers, and the Kardashians – just to name a few of the many things that I can’t seem to be able to wrap my head around. It would seem that I simply don’t know what it is to be “American” these days. Target employees make me want to run and hide in the middle of a rack of clothing. HELLO! HOW CAN I HELP YOU TODAY? ARE YOU FINDING EVERYTHING OK? ANYTHING I CAN DO FOR YOU? And then there’s the plethora of choices. So. many. choices. all. the. time. Different brands. Different sizes. Different packages. Aisles upon aisles of… food and more food. or toothpastes. or bras and underwear. or lotions. or candy. or magazines. or…

When I left America, there was cheese. Sure, there were different kinds of cheese; cheddar, mozzarella, feta… But now there’s non-dairy cheese. Lactose intolerant cheese. Organic cheese. Gluten free cheese. Vegan cheese. And the diets everyone is on? It makes my head spin. I shouldn’t judge. I know my diet changed a lot on our trip. Like in S.E. Asia, there were noodles- so we ate noodles. In Nepal and India, there wasn’t any beef, but there was a lot of curry! We didn’t eat beef, we ate curry. In Africa it was impossible to find fresh vegetables. Guess what we didn’t eat? Fresh vegetables. And now that we’re back in America, where you can eat absolutely anything you could possibly want… people choose not to eat certain foods? Even worse, people let food go to waste?

You’re full after eating your soup AND appetizer, so you’re just going to throw away half of a perfectly good cheeseburger because you’re FULL? Because YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT IT’S LIKE TO NOT HAVE HAD A GOOD CHEESEBURGER IN MONTHS? Girl, please, I will take that cheeseburger home for you if you don’t want it. And no, not because there are poor starving children in Africa (although there are) but because I know what it’s like to not have a cheeseburger when I really, really want one. It’s not just this that’s on my mind if I’m out at a restaurant these days. It’s the bubbly waitress, it’s the constant coffee refills, it’s the tipping… I haven’t tipped in so long, it’s like I never learned basic math skills to immediately calculate and slip 20% in with my bill.

And did you know EVERYONE SPEAKS ENGLISH?

At least in middle America they do.

There was one night in Madison (Wisconsin) though where we found ourselves in a Vietnamese restaurant next to a table full of Spanish speakers. Because listening to their conversation felt more normal than anything had since we touched down in America, I couldn’t help but giggle as one of them (in Spanish) made fun of someone who told them they needed to stop speaking “Mexican.”

And everyone talks to you all the time. At least, to me they do. It’s fantastic! And totally weird because I’m not used to speaking the same language fluently. But it’s great… just as long as no one else is speaking English at the same time. Because I’ve lost all ability to filter other conversations out of my brain simultaneously. When you’re living in Korea, and your Korean isn’t fluent, filtering others out is literally a no-brainer. Same for traveling in and out of countries where you don’t speak the language. But when everything is in English? It’s like everyone in close proximity is inside of my brain and I cannot for the life of me get their voices, their conversations out of it. Perhaps if I thought everyone was speaking at a reasonable volume it would be easier… But it seems like everyone has been shouting at me or in every conversation with or around me since our arrival. I would like to think everyone has just been really excited to see me, but I have a feeling it has nothing to do with me and more to do with the bigger (voice) the better. I have yet to figure out why…

I thought (stupidly) that adjusting to being around our old friends again was going to be the hardest part. It’s definitely been an adjustment, but mostly because Andrew and I went without friends (unless we were lucky enough to meet or meet up with some on our trip for more than one afternoon or night) for 15 months. The majority of that time, we were alone. Friendships were maintained via email and even then it was a bit spotty. I would go for weeks or months without hearing from some friends and I would have to remind myself that I was the one who left them. I was the one who went off the grid when the internet simply didn’t work very well in countries like Nepal or Mozambique or Ecuador… But as soon as I got back, it felt as though everyone was waiting with arms wide open. They left keys under plants for us to let ourselves in after our plane landed at three in the morning. They showed up with a six pack of Spotted Cow – not even for me – but for Andrew! They bought us (and some continue to buy us) drinks when we go out. One drove an hour and a half just to have dinner with us! Now that I have an American number, they text, they send gifs of the Golden Girls to my phone, they call, and it feels like I have friends again. We aren’t alone anymore. The adjustment isn’t a rough one, but an unexpected “Oh this is what it’s like to have people around” feeling that wasn’t anticipated.

I also thought (stupidly) that adjusting to being a physical part of my family again was going to be one of the easier parts of this transition. They’ve known me the longest, right? They made me, or, at least, they’ve been around after I was made… how could they not ‘get me’ by now? I could not have been more wrong. I have become so familiar with what it’s like to feel like I don’t have a family that I was ecstatic to be “home” again. This enthusiasm was not matched and I struggle with how to let go of the disappointment.

It seems as if everyone has their own opinion of our adventure around the world and the choice that we made to do it in the first place. Most people think of our 15 month jaunt around the world as a vacation. Like, we were having so much fun all the time, and the pictures we posted on Facebook meant we were always having this amazing time. It was amazing, it was an unbelievable adventure, but it was also WAY more work than going to a traditional job everyday from 9-5. Even if we were seeing an incredible site in the morning, in the afternoon we might be traveling or planning how to get to our next destination or where our next destination was going to be. It. was. hard. We went on this adventure to learn and grow and of course, see the world, but not because we thought it was going to be a 15 month holiday. And we’re moving to New York for some of the same reasons, but it seems as though a lot of people think it’s just one more irresponsible dream we’re chasing down. This makes the transition even more difficult.

I also struggle with anxiety over the future. Over wanting our move back to America to work out. Over wanting a job again. Over wanting a full kitchen and inviting friends over for a beautiful dinner. Or simply being able to buy all of my friends drinks instead of the other way around. I don’t know what the future is going to bring, and I’m not always confident in it, or myself. But then Andrew gets crazy optimistic on me. Or I get a gif of Betty White shimmying across a dance floor. Or a message from a friend reminding me that I survived a rhino (it was actually a hippo) threat while high on malaria meds in Africa and to keep calm and carry on.

Day 442: Our last full day of our trip around the world

As Andrew says above, we were definitely feeling reflective, among many other emotions. Ending our 15 month trip around the world is a strange feeling. The closer the trip came to an end, the more ready I felt for it to be finished… Yet, at the same time it’s one of those things that I never really want to end. It’s a jumble of feelings. We tried to capture what we were feeling as we sat down for waffles and ice-cream in Cartagena’s Old Town on our last full day of our trip.

Day 439: Cartagena to Playa Blanca

Playa Blanca is a beautiful white sand beach on one of the Rosario Islands off the coast of Cartagena. Per everyone’s advice, we skipped the aquarium/island tour en route, and went straight from Cartagena to Playa Blanca. At least, that’s what we asked for. Multiple times when we were buying our tickets to Playa Blanca. Waiting at the harbor for the right boat was confusing, for everyone it seemed, except those walking around with clipboards and lists of names. 

Once we finally got on what we were told was the right boat (and we did see our names on the list) we discovered we were with a tour group going to the aquarium. Fortunately, after the thirty minute boat ride, we were dropped off first at Playa Blanca. Again, we heeded advice given to us and immediately began walking down the beach  (to the left of where you get dropped off) to get away from the vendors and day visitors. We settled for a cabana steps from the ocean, slipped into our suits, and pulled chairs under the umbrella and didn’t move for the rest of the afternoon.

Day 438: More salsa in Cartagena? Yes, please!

And that’s exactly what we did. More of the same from the day before. Walked around the old town. And, again, were the only two who showed up to the group lesson at Crazy Salsa. At night, we went back into the old town to a salsa club that one of the guys working at the hostel recommended. We must have showed up too early, because while there were a lot of people milling about, none were dancing. We left to walk around the old town at night, stumbled upon an outdoor concert wrapping up, and then back to the club. When we returned, there was a bit more dancing, and some older Colombians took pity on me dancing by myself next to Andrew who was trying to pay attention to all of the fancy footwork on the little dance floor. After several dances with the same two sweet Colombians, we left to catch a little sleep before our boat to Playa Blanca in the morning.

Day 436: Cartagena

Cartagena is hot. It’s not only hot, it’s humid. Our first stop? Giant glasses of fresh fruit juice a block away from our hostel. Another guest informed us the juice was better (and bigger) there, rather than at the hostel itself. Once we were slightly cooled off, we set off for the old city. The old city of Cartagena is a walled-in city full of beautiful colonial style buildings. All of the guide books recommend walking around Cartagena’s old city for days on end. It’s the thing to do, and as you can see below- for good reason. Every street was full of character, sitting in the park watching the birds and the children feeding (or trying to catch) the birds was entertaining, even when it rained, a rainbow popped up over the walled in city. Beautiful. No other word for it. We walked around the entire day, stopping only to cool off in an air-conditioned store or ice-cream shop.

Day 433: El Rodadero

El Rodadero seemed to be the least dangerous area of Santa Marta. Perhaps this is because it might be the least visited by foreigners. Once we walked around town, we realized why. It seemed to be a locals only tourist destination. When we walked down the main beach, we were amazed at how many people there were and to be frank; how dirty it was. Families upon families were camped out next to each other and garbage was everywhere. At least while we were walking along the beach there were a few garbage men picking up the trash, but still! It was rather unbelievable. I wanted (desperately) to photograph it all, but I didn’t feel comfortable whipping out my DSLR on the beach amongst a lot of locals, so I kept it tucked away in my bag (or room). We left the crowded beach and found a smaller, less crowded, and much less dirty beach a little ways down and enjoyed the water and beach there instead. It was lovely to be on a beach again, but quite different from the beaches of SouthEast Asia and it made us question what fuels the difference. 

Day 432: Medellin to Santa Marta

Despite our love of 12 hour+ bus rides (kidding), we decided to fly from Medellin to Santa Marta instead. We weren’t totally sure if it was going to be smooth sailing, as we heard multiple stories of Viva Colombia! Airlines often canceling and delaying flights. 

There was a lot of confusion within the airport itself, but we managed to land safely only about an hour later in Santa Marta. Much more convenient than a day (and night) on another bus.

Day 426: Bogota’s Free Walking Tour & Gold Museum

We were on the fence about how long we were going to stay in Bogota. We kept hearing conflicting opinions. Bogota was better than Medellin. No, Medellin was better. We were at a loss of where to spend more time before catching a flight to the coast. In the end, despite liking Bogota quite a bit, we decided to head to Medellin sooner in hopes it would be warmer. So with our last day in Bogota (today) we went on the free walking tour, checked out Museo del Oro (The Gold Museum) and even hopped in a taxi to check out the Usaquen Flea Market.

Because we were suddenly pressed for time, we signed up for the free walking tour in Spanish, reassuring ourselves that we needed the practice. Despite understanding most of the Spanish, I was still grateful our guide was bilingual and often gave us a quick recap in English to make sure we understood. The tour wasn’t very long, but it was nice to have a few things pointed out to us that we would have missed otherwise. Below is the president’s house, an elite high-school (if I remember correctly) and a statue commemorating Colombia’s independence.

I felt pretty safe in Bogota. It was grimy and it didn’t always look the safest, but there were so many police officers around looking out for city-dwellers and tourists alike. You can see two officers on the corner below. I think there were four in total. Mostly because this street led to the president’s house, office, and many political buildings… but still, I was grateful and appreciated being able to keep my camera out instead of buried in a backpack on Andrew’s back throughout our entire visit.

We stopped by the cultural center where a public dance class was being held. They were learning (or practicing) the tango. After the tour, Andrew and I had a traditional lunch: an order of ajiaco (a super hearty soup full of chicken, potatoes, and more) and then made our way towards the Museo del Oro a few blocks away. The walk there was full of pedestrians, street performers, human statues, and vendors.

We didn’t plan on visiting the Gold Museum on its ‘free day.’ This was a bit of a mistake. It was packed. So packed, we would speed walk through certain exhibition spaces that were too crowded for our liking. It offers an impressive display of gold and pre-Colombian artifacts. I loved the clay pieces you see above, and was a little disappointed we didn’t see any recreations for sale outside of the museum. I also loved the earrings below. I usually prefer silver, but I would not pass up the opportunity to have a wall full of gold earrings if the opportunity ever presents itself!

The Usaquen Flea Market was a little far, and only seemed accessible by car (or taxi in our case). I was expecting a more traditional flea market, full of used goods, antiques, and the like. The ‘flea’ market was a little more crafty and perhaps trendy(?) than I would have liked. Andrew really wasn’t this grumpy while we strolled through the market, but I thought his expression fit our overall experience.

I debated buying a wooden door (slightly similar to those I admired so much in Salento) but they weren’t nearly as colorful, and in the end settled for a slice of raspberry cheesecake instead.

Day 424: Street Art in Bogota

It was supposed to take us eight hours to get from Armenia to Bogota. It took us fifteen.

We later found out that this is fairly common. We shared a taxi into the city with two other travelers and after dropping them off, we arrived at our guesthouse in Bogota around midnight, utterly exhausted. In my efforts to not bore you with another day of us sitting on a bus, or complaining about sitting on said bus, I put together a melange of street art that we discovered during our stay in Bogota. Just in our late night taxi ride from the station to our guesthouse alone, I was amazed by the beautiful murals along the highway. They were everywhere. They were beautiful. They were big. While it was too dark to shoot footage from the cab at night, I found some other equally impressive art throughout Bogota and tried to record as much of it as I could. Had we known from the start of our stay, we would have readily gone on the Bogota Street Art Tour, but didn’t find out about it until we were on our way out of the city.

There are some impressive artists in Bogota. Unfortunately the links that the aforementioned tour provide didn’t work for me, except this one. DJLU was one of my favorites. Also scattered around the city, were these public sculptures of famous artists as well as political and historical figures sitting on rooftops. As well as a few colorful walls and doors dotted the streets as well. How could I refuse taking a picture of this pretty juxtaposition of color?

Day 423: Halloween in Salento!

A year ago, we were celebrating Halloween in Chiang Mai, Thailand. We didn’t exactly celebrate, per say, but we were there. Halloween in Salento, Colombia is a significantly bigger deal. Everyone seemed to congregate in the town square and the main road just off the square. There was a parade – and by ‘parade’ I mean some police vehicles leading a lot of mothers and young children through the town. It was adorable. We strolled around town, sat and watched children run from storefront to storefront screaming what I believe was the equivalent of “trick or treat!” and enjoyed what felt like our first festive holiday on the entire trip. It was nice to feel like we were a part of something, even though we were very much the visitors. It also made me look forward to celebrating holidays back home. I just might turn into that girl who wraps her front door in wrapping paper on Christmas, makes heart pancakes on Valentines Day, and dresses like a leprechaun on St. Patricks Day.

Andrew really wanted me to get a picture of the square (and the church) with the mountains in the background. Unfortunately the cloud coverage got in the way. I don’t think this picture really does the scene justice, but I’m sharing nonetheless.

I LOVED the doors and walls of Salento. All of them were beautifully painted and it just added so much character to an already lovely ambiance. I would have photographed absolutely every door if the light would have allowed. Instead, I managed to squeeze one of the main street as dusk and more trick-or-treaters took over.

Day 422: Horseback Riding in Salento

Truth: We spent the entire day on a bus again. But our following afternoon and evening (Halloween) in Salento was so much fun, I thought I’d break them up so you could see more! Salento is a little town about forty minutes or so outside of a bigger town called Armenia. We merely stopped through to change buses and were pleasantly surprised when we jumped off our final bus in Salento. It’s small. It’s picturesque. It’s friendly. It has a lot to do. We decided to go horseback riding instead of trekking mostly because it had rained the entire day prior and continued to rain as we walked through town hunting down a couple of horses. Luckily two oversized ponchos were strapped on our horses and we were more or less covered for our four hour ride down the mountain, through the rainforest, to a waterfall, and back!

You know when you’re home and you have plans to do something outdoors, and then it rains, and you decide to stay indoors and watch a movie instead? Unfortunately (or fortunately) traveling around the world doesn’t always allow for those kinds of days. If I were in Korea (or Kentucky), I would have definitely curled up on the couch, ordered food, and turned on a movie. In the middle of Colombia- in Salento for only two nights, we climbed on a couple of horses. You can’t really tell by any of the pictures, but it was raining for most of our ride. Thankfully, I was warm enough under the poncho.

We weren’t exactly expecting the ride to follow the road down the mountain. I think I assumed we would be driven down to the rainforest and palms, where we would then climb on a horse and ride for a few hours. Riding the horse through town, and down the mountain took about an hour and weaving around cars and bikes along the way made the horses a little bit skittish. It was nice once we got into the valley and were on a trail instead of a paved road. We also thought we were going through the palm forest (think really, really tall palm trees) but instead we rode through some beautiful fields, crossed some streams, went along the old railway track, and walked to a waterfall that was simply gushing with all of the recent rainwater. It was a great ride, not exactly what we were expecting, but nice nonetheless.

Our climb back up the mountain was tough. Instead of winding our way back into town on the paved road, instead we climbed a muddy ravine that both of our horses struggled with. By the end of our ride, our backs and legs were sore, we were covered in mud, our shoes were squishy from all of the rain and river crossings, and we were starving.

et and very dirty, we went straight for lunch (instead of showers) mostly because we were afraid the restaurant we wanted to try the most would close before we could get cleaned up. I think I may have gotten too comfortable with being dirty on this trip. Or perhaps simply too used to it? Either way, hot showers and washing machines have become a luxury. I’m not sure if the average American would think the same.

Day 418: Otavalo

Before making our way across the border into Colombia, we stopped for two nights in Otavalo, Ecuador. Otavalo is a little town that is most famous for it’s markets every Saturday morning and early afternoon. As we walked through town last night, I knew I was going to enjoy our short stay here. While the Ecuadorian coast was nice, and the historical center of Quito very pretty, I think the beauty of Ecuador lies in it’s small towns inland, or in the mountains. I loved Mindo, I had a feeling I was going to love Otavalo as well. It made me feel a little bad we spent most of our time in Ecuador studying Spanish instead of traveling around more smaller towns! We spent the morning at Otavalo’s main market, and then the afternoon searching down the Peguche waterfall outside of town.

It seemed as if the entire city shut down and morphed into a giant market. Granted, the city wasn’t that big, but when all of the streets are suddenly covered in tents and stalls selling everything from skeins of yarn to gold bracelets to pre-Colombian statues to slabs of pork on a plate for a quick lunch it felt huge and delightfully overwhelming. Andrew and I strolled around taking it all in, taking pictures, and seeing what was for sale before we bought anything. We could have bought small and unbreakable things, but we went straight for the pre-Colombian statues (some of which you can see below). More specifically, Andrew wanted them. It’s official. I have rubbed off on him. At least when it comes to buying (and subsequently having to carry around) breakable, slightly heavy and hard to pack souvenirs.

We’ve also seen reproductions based off of Ecuadorian artist, Oswaldo Guayasamín‘s work throughout Ecuador. They were everywhere. In our guesthouses, in restaurants, even on the walls in our Spanish school in Quito. I was hoping I’d be able to find a few prints or hear more about the artist before we left Ecuador. Fortunately the market offered lots of reproductions and we were able to hop from stall to stall pricing out different ones we liked and eventually decided on a few that our future walls simply will not be able to live without. Done shopping, we strolled through the food market (always one of my favorite areas of a market) and took pictures before ducking into one of the restaurants for lunch.

The outskirts of the market offered quieter streets which made it relatively easy to sneak back to our room to drop off our newly acquired art before trekking out of Otavalo to check out the Peguche waterfall. We took a public bus and got off at the suggested stop, but we felt a little lost wandering around a much smaller town with no clear signs of a waterfall.

We were also told it was a weaving capital of the area surrounding Otavalo, but we quickly found out this simply meant there was one shop with very pricey rugs and tapestries inside. I was more impressed with the street art. This little tiny two street town with hardly anyone walking through it offered up some incredible murals. Even in Otavalo offered equally impressive public art.

Even though we asked for directions, walking down this dirt road we were a little skeptical if we were heading in the right direction. There weren’t any signs, no other tourists, so when some locals walked past us, we simply followed them and were relieved when we found ourselves at the entrance of the park and winding trail towards the waterfall. Anxious to catch a public bus back into Otavalo before dark, we didn’t linger in the park too long.

Instead, we walked to yet another small town that wrapped itself around the outskirts of Otavalo in search for the bus or perhaps a taxi if we were lucky. Eventually we were told where we could go, and before the sandflies consumed my exposed legs entirely, we were back on a bus towards Otavalo and heading back to Taco Bello (yep, you read correctly) for another taco salad.

Day 416: The Equator (part 2)

The real equator line lies a short walk away from the monument and park. By short walk, I mean a rather unmarked walk along an expressway where we spent the majority of the time wondering if we were going in the right direction or not. After turning down another unmarked road (that we were told to turn down) we kept walking until we saw a sign for the Museo de Sitio Intiñan. Once inside, we were led on a guided tour through the outdoor museum where we did some experiments and of course, had our picture taken on the real equator.

See what I mean about not knowing where to go? It’s a little bit strange how big and grand the official monument and park are for an inaccurate equator line and then how little (actually there is none) signage between the “two equators.” You would also think that the Museo de Sitio Intiñan would put more effort into the walk in between. For the record, we saw others walking in between, looking just as bewildered as we felt.

We started the tour in a huge group of German tourists, but quickly fled once we realized we couldn’t see, nor hear a thing and started the tour over in a smaller mostly English speaking group. The museum is nice, I think it was a bit more interesting than visiting the monument and fake yellow equator. We watched water drain in different directions on either side of the GPS calculated equator, tried to walk in a straight line with our eyes closed on the it, as well as balance an egg on a nail. Andrew walked out with a certificate confirming his abilities to balance the egg. I fully plan on framing it and hanging it up, if he lets me. An hour later, we were back in Quito for one more night, one more Spanish lesson, and one more afternoon in Quito before we started making our way north towards Colombia.

Day 415: The Equator (part 1)

Truth: This yellow line is not the equator, or “middle of the earth” as it’s known in Ecuador. This line, and the subsequent park were built around the measurements calculated by French astronomers in 1736. It’s slightly off though, and according to GPS calculations, the real equator is a short walk away. Don’t believe me? Read more about it here. (Because of bad weather in Quito this week, I split up our visit to the equator into two “days” on the blog, so the real equator is coming at you tomorrow!) I felt a little silly visiting this line, knowing it wasn’t even the real line of the equator, but it felt silly not going. Instead of posing like every other tourist there with one foot in each hemisphere, we walked the line. balanced on the line. tip-toed on the line.

Another truth: I’m not really sure who this dude in the last picture is, but there were lots of busts of explorers leading up to the monument, so I thought one of them deserved their picture taken.

Day 407: Quito at 5 AM

Quito at 5 AM is not exactly the best time to be walking around with all of your worldly possessions in tow. We jumped in an overpriced taxi (we’re gringos after all) and headed straight to our hostel, where we weren’t sure if we would be able to check in immediately or not. When we found out we weren’t able to, we camped out in the living room, and not feeling comfortable enough to sleep, we both pulled out our computers. Until we were able to check into our room, around ten in the morning, I worked on the blog. Yep, for five hours, on very little sleep, I edited photos, videos, took advantage of the fast internet connection (the first time I had a fast internet connection in several weeks) and tried to get some work done. By the time we were sinking into our bed, I had five new posts up and was more than ready to crash. Which is exactly what we did for the majority of the afternoon. We were exhausted. We went out for dinner, and then amidst the excitement in the streets for another Ecuador World Cup Qualifier, we headed back to our room to watch the game in bed, instead of a bar. The best part was not being able to watch the game in my underpants- but that our television was on a tiny delay. Every time we would hear loud cheering on the streets, I would know to pay attention and wouldn’t miss a goal (or a save)! I’m sure not everyone would agree, but given how exhausted I was, it was the perfect way to watch Ecuador make it into the World Cup! 

Day 402: San Vicente

We needed cash. The nearest ATM machine was not so conveniently located in the next town, San Vicente about twenty minutes away. Had we had our own mode of transportation, this wouldn’t have been a problem. Instead, we had to wait by the side of the road for a half hour or so for a passing bus. I thought San Vicente would offer more photo opportunities (which is why I agreed to go with Andrew), but it seems as though the entire town is under construction. You may think that I’m exaggerating- but I assure you, I’m not. I felt a bit weird with my camera out, so quickly put it away after a few blocks, cutting the day in a minute down to a day in 50-ish seconds. Because we also needed some Ecuador gear for the big World Cup qualifier on Friday, we headed even further to the next town, Bahia. Bahia didn’t seem to be under construction, but it didn’t seem to offer a lot of opportunities either- at least ones that I was willing to risk ownership of my camera for. We picked up a jersey for Andrew, a headband for myself, and a cape (yep, a cape) for our new friend Tom for the big game tomorrow and headed back to Sundown to study some more Spanish.

Day 398: Puerto Lopez to Canoa

Our latest bus journey was supposed to be super smooth. We woke up early to make sure it would be a two bus adventure instead of three. We even arrived at the second bus station and jumped on our next bus with relative ease. Perhaps I jinxed us when I said “Wow, this hasn’t been bad at all!” to Andrew as we pulled out of the station. And then several hours passed, and we still weren’t where we were supposed to be. On a map, it’s approximately a three hour journey. Factor in a bus change, and a few road-side pick-ups (of passengers) and sure, an extra hour or even an hour and a half seems reasonable. But SIX AND A HALF HOURS?!? No, six and a half hours from Puerto Lopez to Canoa was not reasonable. By the time we got into Canoa Andrew sat down at the first restaurant we saw while I went in search of a baño. Somehow, I ended up in someone’s outhouse in their backyard (with their permission) while Andrew ordered fish and rice for us to eat around the corner. It was nearing dusk by the time we got to our beachfront hotel and we were too tired to do anything other than jump in the ocean to cool off and then immediately lay down before our next round of Spanish classes started in the morning. 

Day 396: Olón to Puerto Lopez

It’s so interesting to travel through these quiet, little coastal towns in Ecuador after traveling through bigger tourist attractions in Peru. Since arriving in Olón, and traveling from Olón to Puerto Lopez today, it’s as if we hit the slow motion button or something similar… The bus to Puerto Lopez was relatively quick and painless and when we arrived and walked on the quiet beach we were slightly surprised at how deserted the town felt. The town was quiet. The streets did not feel well traveled. Every other building was empty, closed, or crumbling down. More restaurants and bars (than in Olón) sat on the beach, and although most were open, few patrons were seen. We walked up and down the beachfront street, had some ceviche that made us miss Peru (where the servings are bigger, spicier, and generally much more flavorful), and we made a reservation for a whale watching tour in the morning!

Day 370: Huayna Picchu + Machu Picchu

Machu Picchu! Our day started out early, for we signed up to be a few of the four hundred (per day) to climb Huayna Picchu. Around seven in the morning, we were (somewhat) rushing through Machu Picchu to the far end of the site to stand in line at the Huayna Picchu checkpoint. Less than two hours later, we were atop Huayna Picchu, taking in a hands down amazing view of Machu Picchu. (It was well worth the climb – to say the least.) We spent the afternoon walking through Machu Picchu in complete awe and wonder of the Incan architecture. It’s impressive, not only because of the precision and grandeur, but because of the mystery behind it. -Especially when you’re staring out at mountaintops all around… it puts it into very close perspective of how unique it really is. The Great Wall, Angkor Wat, even the Taj Mahal are all incredible, but everyone has always known about them. And in comparison, they were all built somewhat out in the open, for all to see… Even though we were just a few of the many (many, many) daily visitors, it felt like we were being let in on a big secret just by being within the walls of Machu Picchu.

Getting to Machu Picchu is no easy task. Granted, it is MUCH easier than it was back in the days of Hiram Bingham. It’s not cheap, either. To walk the Inca Trail, one must sign up at least six months ahead of time. At least. You’re required to take a few porters, a guide, and a cook… Although we would have loved to walk it, not having firm plans throughout this year of travel and my bum heel prohibited us from even considering walking the trail. The alternative day visit isn’t the cheapest either. After you’ve spent a hundred dollars just to train it to Aguas Calientes, you’re still at the bottom of the Andes, and Machu Picchu is at the top. You can walk up the zig-zagging road to the entrance of Machu Picchu (we saw at least one couple with more gumption than ourselves) or you can fork over $18.50 for the bus (at least it was round-trip) like we did.

However, after you’ve handed over your ticket (that you absolutely must get ahead of time, either online or in Aguas Calientes) you’re walking towards Machu Picchu letting the excitement take over any and all annoyance over the inflated expenses you paid to get here. Arriving just after sunrise didn’t hurt either. Isn’t this light gorgeous?

First stop: Huayna Picchu. I have to admit, I was a little nervous about this climb. I didn’t think it would be a big deal until a few nights ago, Andrew started looking up videos of what it would be like and showed us one with rocks jutting out of the side of a mountain that you had to trust could hold your weight as you climbed up. Ok, so maybe I was a little scared on top of nervous. The problem with me being scared of something though, is that I know that it means I have to do it. There’s no getting around it. Like this entire trip, I guess… when I step back and think about it.

Huayna Picchu (also known as Wayna Picchu) is the mountain that is usually behind Machu Picchu in all of the pictures. The Urubamba River curves around this mountain below it and Machu Picchu. I found it interesting that I had never heard of this mountain, only Machu Picchu, yet the Incas built a trail with temples and terraces on its side and top as well. The peak (our destination) is 8,920 ft above sea level. It’s 1,180 feet higher than Machu Picchu. The climb itself wasn’t terribly hard, but the altitude made things a bit challenging.

Once we got to the top though, I understood why my aunt had emailed, urging us to try to get tickets. Again, only 400 are allowed up the mountain per day. There are two designated time slots, allowing 200 people in during each 2 hour window. We had to sign in before we were allowed to start the climb and were supposed to be back down 2 hours later. However, nothing was really enforced and we took our time once we were up at the top, pausing several times for photos or to just sit and admire the view.

According to Wikipedia, According to local guides, the top of the mountain was the residence for the high priest and the local virgins. Every morning before sunrise, the high priest with a small group would walk to Machu Picchu to signal the coming of the new day. The Temple of the Moon, one of the three major temples in the Machu Picchu area, is nestled on the side of the mountain and is situated at an elevation lower than Machu Picchu. 

Momma was slightly terrified of the edge and the general realization of exactly how high we were once we got to the top. As you’re climbing up, you really don’t have a clear sense of how high you are because you’re on a trail that is winding around the mountain. In other words, it’s not just one “up” direction. These are the steps that scared me in the video Andrew showed us a few days before. The video made it look like the girl was standing on these steps directly over the edge of a mountain. However, they’re above terraces and they aren’t nearly as scary as they might look. Unnerving, sure. Of course. But really, not sooo bad. Unless you’re my mom- who wasn’t going anywhere near them. If you find yourself atop Huayna Picchu- take these steps up. I think it offers a great view, one that isn’t as crowded as other levels.

Some of the shots were taken from the absolute tip top of Huayna Picchu. We had to squeeze our way through and under some rocks that almost seemed precariously balanced atop the mountain. Only because we had to exit this way would Mom even consider climbing up to the top. I convinced her to let me photograph her, but unfortunately had my broken lens on my camera from some prior shots to see if I could squeeze one or two images out of it. I liked these images of her laughing so much I almost don’t mind how blown out they are. I’m pretty sure she thought she was going to slide right off the mountain when we had to cross this rock to get down to some more traditional steps below.

Another family decided to race back down the mountain. I had no desire to even consider racing back down. While the altitude didn’t bother me as much during the descent, these skinny little stairs did. The problem (if you can even call it a problem) with climbing Huayna Picchu before you really explore Machu Picchu, is that it’s kinda in the middle of the traditional visiter route through Machu Picchu. Apparently you’re supposed to follow this route and cannot reverse course halfway through. We didn’t realize this when we started walking through Machu Picchu.

Another “problem” with sprinting through Machu Picchu to climb Huayna Picchu first is that when you’re finished climbing Huayna Picchu, you’re in the middle of Machu Picchu (below on the map at #11) without a guide. This is something I wish we would have realized or thought of before we entered. There are dozens of guides standing outside the entrance to Machu Picchu offering up their services. Had I known any better, I would have made arrangements with one of them to meet us at the Huayna Picchu gate after our climb. (If you plan on doing both in one day- get a guide to meet you!) I enjoyed milling around Machu Picchu, and it was easy to evesdrop on other tours for bits and pieces of information, but I wish I had done some more research on the site, or brought along a Machu Picchu book, or something to better understand what buildings or temples or burial sites we were standing in. Even a map, like this one below (found here) would have helped! I thought perhaps we missed them on our way in, but when we left I looked to see if there were any sitting out and couldn’t findany (or any sign that there were some there previously). 

Above is a view of Huayna Picchu from the middle of Machu Picchu. If you look really closely, you can see the stonework towards the top. It’s pretty incredible how well it blends into the rock and trees of the mountain. If you didn’t know to look for it, I think you would miss it! (At least I would!)

It doesn’t look like there were many people in my pictures. (My mom was a little surprised when she saw the pictures of the monastery in Arequipa how empty it looked. I’m curious if she’ll be surprised with these pictures as well. -Are you Mom?) The truth is, I waited in many cases for people to get out of my shot. Or worked the framing to make the site stand out instead of highlighting just how many people there were around the site with us. There were a lot. It also helped that a few areas were roped off from the public – llamas only, or workers removing unwanted weeds from the stonework. We began our own tour of Machu Picchu through what I think were the houses of factories and then through the industrial zone.

According to some descriptions (and some guides) of Machu Picchu, this area is known as the Temple of the Condor. A temple where the Incas specifically worshiped the condor (the bird which is thought to represent the sky and afterlife of the Incas. We heard that many guides will call it a temple to paint a friendlier picture of Machu Picchu. However, this area was actually the prisoner’s area and there was some cruel torture that went on here, some say is evident by certain niches in the stones. Maybe both are speculation, but I think the prison idea is probably the most accurate.

In the middle of Machu Picchu, above the royal tomb is the Temple of the Sun, also called the Torreón. This is one of the most sacred places in Machu Picchu and only the Inca (the king of the Incas) himself and the high priest could enter. It’s where the diety, Inti (the sun) is worshipped. During the winter solstice, the sun shines through the trapezoidal window onto a really large granite stone, which the temple was built around. Like all of Machu Picchu, the exact purpose of this temple is debated. Was it for female ”Virgins of the Sun” or was it a monument to the Inca Pachacutec or an observatory? Maybe all of the above? Who knows. Regardless, during the winter (in June in these parts) solstice, the sun illuminates the sacred rock in the middle of the temple – for reasons no one is entirely positive about.

Around the Temple of the sun are some houses known as The Royal Sector. Basically, where the royal family lived. (I think.)

At the very top of the middle area of Machu Picchu, is the Temple of the Three Windows, this was more like a wall, surrounding the Sacred Plaza. It’s here where you will find the Principal Temple, the House of the Priest, the Sacristy, and a LOT of tour groups. Unfortunately, at the time, we weren’t sure what we were looking at. I mostly took pictures of what I found interesting and a few roped off areas that I knew were important… only I wasn’t sure exactly why. I followed the crowd and found myself facing this giant rock, guarded by one thin rope and a Machu Picchu employee making sure no one crossed it. Dozens were standing in front of it to get their picture taken. This sacred rock is known as Intihuatana. It supposedly mirrors the shape of Huayna Picchu (the mountain we climbed a few hours ago) and is said to have functioned as a sundial, or astronomical calendar, or agricultural calendar, or perhaps all of the above? Bottom line: it’s special. sacred. super important. Apparently other similar stones were carved elsewhere but were all destroyed by the invading Spaniards (Thanks a lot, Spain!) who wanted to replace them with crosses, thus ridding then Peru of its pagan ways. I found Andrew and Momma waiting for me here, just chillin’ in some Incan niches…

It was right around here where we got in trouble. You see, we had already gone around the far side of Machu Picchu to climb Huayna Picchu. However, when we went to double back to see what we missed, we were directed back where we came from. We listened to the first two Machu Picchu employees, but then held firm with the third one. All we had to do was cross over one walkway to get back to the main stairs. A tourist guide (with his group) stopped to help us, and once the Machu Picchu employee saw that we were creating a crowd, he let us double back to see the half of Machu Picchu (where most people start their visit) we missed.

This might have been my favorite part of Machu Picchu. It provided a beautiful view of Machu Picchu, and seemed a little more secluded and less traveled than the famous temples and lawns full of llamas, terraces, and perfect masonry. We passed through the City Gate, walked up around The House of the Guardians, and we must have passed the Funerary Rock and Cemetary although we didn’t know it at the time. By this time, our water was running low, the sun was getting to us, and we were starting to slow down. Of course, we still enjoyed the view, and I even convinced Momma to get up to jump for a picture or two.

If you walk far back enough, you’ll find yourself at another checkpoint and a trail leading to the Inca Bridge. We were told it wasn’t hard, so Andrew and I decided to check it out. Twenty minutes later, we found ourselves facing this (above) and honestly we weren’t impressed. I don’t see what the big deal was… According to Wikipedia, The trail is a stone path, part of which is cut into a cliff face. A twenty-foot gap was left in this section of the carved cliff edge, over a 1,900 feet drop, that could be bridged with two tree trunks, otherwise leaving the trail impassable to outsiders. I would have been content to instead have spent my time sitting within the walls of Machu Picchu and soaking it up before deciding we had seen enough… We collected Momma, walked around a little more to see if there was anything we missed, went to where we thought was the end/start of the Inca Trail, took a few last pictures and made our way back out and down to Aguas Calientes, and then back to Cusco.

Day 358: More Lessons Learned from Traveling Around the World

At what was essentially the start of this little jaunt, I wrote an article for Groove Magazine (of Seoul, South Korea): Lessons Learned from my first 50 days of traveling around the world. This trip has been a constant learning experience, and after a quick Google search, it appears that I am not the only one who thinks long-term travel is exceptionally educational. Nomadic Matt has learned a thing or two, as has Benny, the Irish polyglot, and even Gary Arndt (as read on the blog of Tim Ferriss – the four hour workweek dude). Bottom line: there are a lot of lists out there. A lot of them (like the ones above) are fairly broad. Mine… not so much.

Instead of regaling you with yet again, another day in a minute in between airports around the world and boring pictures of us on an airplane (this time from London to Lima)… I thought I’d pick up right where I left off from my last list about some of the more specific lessons I’ve learned since our first fifty days… Especially since we’ve been through Nepal and India:

parts of the Middle East:

Africa:

and even Europe:

Lesson #9: Traveling with cards? Be prepared to call your credit card company and bank every three months to verify which countries you’ll be traveling through. Otherwise the Fraud Department(s) will put a hold on your card the onetime you need to use it in that fourth month. In addition, I should have investigated my ATM withdraw and credit card international transaction fees more thoroughly. In 12 months of travel, trying my hardest to stick to a $50.00 (or under) a day budget, I discovered Citibank has charged me a whopping $341.02 – and that’s from only ONE of my two Citibank cards! That’s nearly one full week of my budget! Wiser travelers, Josh and Leanne haven’t been charged any fees using Capital One.   

Lesson #10: Pay attention to that strange feeling in the bottom of your stomach when your bus or hotel room has a certain chemical smell to it. Open a window. Step outside. Change hotels. Whatever that smell is, probably isn’t good for you and the annoyance of moving yourself and your stuff far outweighs the possibility of permanent health damages (or waking up without any of your stuff!)

Lesson #11: When dealing with a ridiculously horrible hotel manager, like at Chiang Mai Thai House, don’t be afraid to stick up for yourself in front of other guests. This horrible (awful, terrible) manager truly embarrassed me in front of other guests, even though he was the one who made the booking mistake! You could say, the lesson learned here was to not stay at this hotel in the first place… (If heading to Chiang Mai, don’t make the same mistake!)

Lesson #12: Nothing in Nepal is free. Renting a car for an impossibly cheap fare for the day comes with the price of sitting in a tourist agency listening to an agent try to pitch trekking trips to you for an hour and a half, despite the fact that you told him you were probably the only tourists in Nepal NOT trekking.

Lesson #13: When you find yourself getting angry with your travel partner over something ridiculous, it’s probably time for a nap, a meal, a day of drinking, or a day of doing nothing at all. Traveling around the world is hard. Don’t let anyone who hasn’t done it tell you otherwise.

Lesson #14: Bathing with elephants in Chitwan, Nepal is not what you think it will be. You’re not going to soap up an elephant in the middle of the river, getting some intimate one-on-one time with an elephant. You’re going to pay a mahout to let you climb onto the back of an elephant whose spirit has been broken. The elephant is going to spray you with water when the mahout prods him/her with a giant spear to do so. And then after ten minutes (give or take) your experience “bathing” the elephant will be finished. You’re better off buying some bananas and feeding an elephant in between other tourists (who don’t know of the damage the mahouts have done to the poor beasts) bathing experiences.

Lesson #15: When your bus breaks down in the middle of the mountains in Nepal, don’t hesitate to hop on the next bus that passes. If you wait around (like we did) you’ll simply find out your bus won’t be up and running again in time to cross the border into India and catch your next bus. Better to jump on a passing bus with one or two others instead of twenty who are now equally in need of a ride to the border.

Lesson #16: Don’t drink sugarcane juice out of a glass from a vendor on the streets of Varanasi. Always drink out of a plastic (unused) cup. This will ensure that you won’t be spending several hours in the bathroom in the middle of the night and next morning. Furthermore: Charcoal tablets (and Apple Cider Vinegar) will cure all stomach issues. Now, I never travel without them. They have saved my life. My stomach, and some of my other parts… more than once on this trip since that unfortunate glass of sugarcane juice.

Lesson #17: Learn the scams of India. Which scam is popular in each city. Be prepared. But also be prepared to fall victim to a new scam that hasn’t hit the Internet yet… This is one of the many prices you have to pay for traveling around the world. It might make you crazy the moment you realize you’ve been scammed, but chances are you’ll merely shrug about it later.

Lesson #18: When asking if your room for the night comes equipped with hot water and wi-fi… Be. More. Specific. Ask; “Does the room have hot water and wi-fi today?” Furthermore, when you arrive exceedingly early thanks to your bus/train/plane into the city, and your hotel says you cannot check in early; use up any and all available sofa space in the common area or lobby to sleep until they magically find a room for you. As soon as you act like the lobby is your own private living room they are more likely to want you in your own private room.

Lesson #19: Women should not initiate conversation with Emirati men – especially by themselves. If you’re married, keep in mind your status doesn’t matter to an Emirati who wants to inappropriately grab you while you’re standing next to your non-Emirati husband (or in my case “husband”). Furthermore, at a party in the U.A.E. – never, not once, go anywhere on your own. Emirati men can and will do whatever they want, and because they are Emirati, in the U.A.E. they will get away with it.

Lesson #20: Jordanians are the nicest people on earth. Seriously, the nicest. However, nothing can prepare you for the day a Syrian child refugee punches you in the back.

Lesson #21: When going through Israeli immigration, it’s probably best to know your geography ahead of time so you don’t bat an eye when asked if you will be visiting the West Bank or any of the occupied territories.

Lesson #22: Floating in the Dead Sea is painful. Don’t shave any part of your body for a week a year before you visit. Wear a wetsuit! Stay in no longer than five minutes! No, three minutes! And bring a bottle of water to pour over your burning skin as you make your way to the fresh water showers two flights of stairs away!

Lesson #23: Israel is expensive and “Birthrighters” –especially of the young, American variety are annoying. Sorry Birthrighters, but this non-Birthrighter spending a fortune to see what you got to do for free overheard one too many conversations about how “wasted we’re going to get tonight/tomorrow/when we get back to the hotel” and “Ohmigod, You’re a Cohen, too?”

Lesson #24: Your politics will change, or at least become more defined the day your morning is spent at the Holocaust Museum in Jerusalem and your afternoon in a Palestinian refugee camp outside of Bethlehem.

Lesson #25: You can never plan too much for your trip around the world. Had we planned more, we would have not even tried Europe in the winter, we wouldn’t have flown from Israel to Belgium to Morocco to Uganda, and we definitely would have looked into the overland tours (like this one) through Africa.

Lesson #26: You can plan too much during your trip around the world. There comes a point where you need to step away from the computer with the TripAdvisor forum on its screen.

Lesson #27: Marrakech is as awful as everyone (who has been) says it is. But chances are you’re going to have to go and see for yourself. When the man with the snakes/monkeys/magic tricks insist you pay him for the picture you just took – even though you were just walking by carrying your camera… just remember… “I told you so!”

Lesson #28: When a Moroccan man asks how much you cost, don’t say “I’m not for sale!” at least find out how much he thinks you’re worth! I promise, it will make for a better story, err, status update on Facebook.

Lesson #29: Postagram is cheaper than buying postcards and stamps around the world. Trust me. (Obviously I’m a bit biased because they foot my elementary school pen-pal project, but you fork over the equivalent of $30.00 for postage in the middle of Laos just to send postcards to your family and you might fall in love with the app yourself!)

Lesson #30: Malaria prophylaxis will drive you crazy. If you’re anything like me (sensitive to medication), you’ll feel like your skin is burning anytime you’re in the sun, you’ll cry for no reason, and you might even attempt to break up with your boyfriend over something you won’t even remember (nor understand) the next morning. My advice after nearly one month straight of taking them, (and crying all. the. time.) avoid the pills and take your chances with bug spray instead.

Lesson #31: When camping during your African safari, warthogs wandering through will eat your snacks by day and giant hippos will eat the grass outside your tent at night. When you wake up to the ridiculously noisy chomping in the middle of the night, do yourself a favor and stay inside your tent. While warthogs aren’t so dangerous, hippos are.

Lesson #32: When your thirty-year old bus blows a tire and flies off the road, landing in a pool of water in the middle of Tanzania, get your stuff and get. out. There are no emergency services coming to file a report, or take people to the hospital, or even to make sure everyone is accounted for. Flag down a bus passing by, climb in, and stand in the aisle until the next stop.

Lesson #33: Document your (car/bus/motorcycle) accident as best as you can. Ask your hotel/hostel to help find documentation of the accident to give your Travel Insurance Company when trying to file a claim for damaged possessions. Otherwise, self-insure. Because, if you’re anything like me, someone who invested in travel insurance for AFRICA – for situations just like this one… You will be out of luck when you realize you don’t have a bus ticket, a police report, or even your name on the guest registry at the hostel you’re staying at when you try unsuccessfully to file a claim for some damaged camera lenses. (Thanks for nothing, WorldNomads.)

Lesson #34: Feet swell during pregnancy (so I’ve heard). They also swell during overnight and/or 10 hour + bus rides. That being said; Mozambique is the most difficult country to travel through on your own. Domestic flights are crazy expensive, and every bus ride is at least 10 hours long. At least. And chances are they will be crammed with so many people you will spend the majority of your 12-14 hour journey holding someone else’s sack of rice, live chicken, or if you’re lucky, their adorably silent wide-eyed child. If you can survive one (or in our case, four) bus in Mozambique, you can survive anything. Keeping that in mind, Mozambique Island is beautiful. A bitch to get to, but beautiful.

Lesson #35: Reverse culture shock is standing in an aisle full of gummie candy in a gas station mini-mart after spending two months traveling around Uganda, Tanzania, and Mozambique. “Do you want tropical fruit or sour colas?” I asked my partner. I may as well have been speaking in Swahili. Although, chances are he would have been more likely to understand me, given the recent location(s) of our adventures.

Lesson #36: South Africa is a beautiful country. But it’s a strange one. Regardless if you come from a country with a history of slavery or apartheid, it will certainly make you evaluate equality in not only the country that you’re visiting but the country you’re from as well.

Lesson #37: Couch-surfing is a wonderful way to meet amazing people around the world. And when it’s not the perfect experience, it sure does make for a great story for future couch-surfing connections, friends in foreign countries, and family back home!

Lesson #38: Become a tissue/toilet paper HOARDER. Don’t underestimate the powers of an individually wrapped wet-wipe. (I hoard these, too!) And never leave your scarf in your hotel room. (Chances are you’ll get cold, or you’ll find yourself outside of a mosque you’d really like to visit, or you need something to wrap around your legs as a skirt when curious eyes haven’t seen a pair of bright white female legs before… It’s always worth tying around your purse strap or stuffing into the bottom of your day-pack.)

Lesson #39: Always pack your camera battery charger in your carry-on. Especially when flying Etihad Air. And when said airline’s third party baggage company cannot locate your lost luggage after an entire week stranded in Istanbul, get on the horn with other airlines and airports to find your own bag. If said airline promises you that they will provide a daily allowance to make up for the HUGE inconvenience, don’t count on being reimbursed for anything. It’s now been six months. It’s safe to say they didn’t (and don’t) care about inconveniencing past, present, or future customers’ travel schedules at all!

Lesson #40: There is such a thing as the 10-Month Travel Slump. This travel obstacle, too, shall pass.

Lesson #41: Buying lunch (or dinner) at the local grocery store and having a picnic can be far more memorable and atmospheric than eating in an overpriced tourist café. Forget the cold croque monsieur and loud Americans at the next table, head to the Seine with a baguette, some cheese and a bottle of wine! Guaranteed to be prettier and easier on your budget!

Lesson #42: Don’t stay with friends in foreign countries unless you really, really enjoy their company. A free place to stay could come with a price that could cost you time navigating into the center of the city, a vegan dinner when all you really wanted was a big fat cheeseburger, or even your friendship.

Lesson #43: Mailing boxes of replacement clothes, shoes, and toiletries to myself in different countries was quite possibly the smartest thing I’ve done in regards to preparing for this trip. As it turns out, wearing flip-flops for eight months straight wasn’t the smartest move for my feet. Reuniting with my barely used neon orange Nikes in the middle of England was glorious. As was indulging in my favorite SkinFood beauty products, refilling my empty cranberry pill bottle, and slipping into a pair of jeans for the first time in a year! Jeans! Who knew something so basic could bring so much happiness? Mail boxes to yourself. If you don’t have friends, find a couchsurfer.

Lesson #44: Don’t get lost en route to, or show up late for your shared ride via BlaBlacar. Otherwise you might find yourself stranded outside of Barcelona when you thought you’d be in a car en route to Paris for the day.

Lesson #45: Traveling without a point and shoot was a bad idea. I wish I had one in addition to my DSLR. Regardless if you’re traveling with multiple cameras, be prepared to buy a replacement camera and/or lens. Travel is hard on cameras and related gear, and accidents tend to happen.

Lesson #46: “Free” Walking tours are an awesome way to see a new city! That is, if your “free” guide is giving tours because he loves his city, country, and quite simply enjoys giving tours. The minute your guide suggests how much you should donate (I’m looking at you, Discover Walks Paris!) as a “tip” give half and research different Free Tours. In our experience, the best guides never suggest a specific amount and we always enjoy them, and tip them the most.

Lesson #47: Trying to couchsurf in Western Europe in the middle of the summer is an exercise in futility. Trying to stay at a budget hostel/hotel/guesthouse is even worse. Lesson learned? Pay more for a better located and higher priced hotel. Otherwise you might find yourself staying in the middle of a bus station in Prague in a room with leaky windows and staff that doesn’t care when you report a drenched backpack after you know you closed the windows before you left.

Lesson #48: I may have friends around the world, but when you’re on the road for as long as we have been, it can often feel like you don’t know a soul on earth. No one emails on the weekend. With the exception of my girl, Mindy, friends don’t comment on your travel blog. Celebrating Thanksgiving (or any American holiday for that matter) lasts as long as your Skype connection, and then you feast on Indian food in the middle of Varanasi. This brings me back to Lesson #2 (Choose your travel partner wisely) or else you better be good at making friends in hostels, or in my case in the middle of the street in a foreign country.

Lesson #49: “How can you afford this trip?” has become my least favorite question to be asked about my year of traveling around the world. I’ve been out of the country for quite a few years, so maybe things have changed… Is it currently acceptable to ask how friends, family, and random strangers can afford their house, their new car, or quitting their job to go back to school? Not that anyone needs to know, but I don’t have a house, a car, or any kids. I worked hard. I saved up. That’s how I can afford this trip.

Lesson #50: You’re going to miss it. You’re going to miss that feeling of awe when you’re standing in front of the Taj Mahal. You’re going to miss the feeling of sheer exhaustion during and after a 24-hour (or more) journey from one city (or country) to the next. You’re going to miss everything amazing and absolutely heartbreaking about your trip – no matter how long, be it one year, fifteen months, or however long your trip is planned to be… It will be over before you know it. And you will miss it. More than you can ever prepare yourself for.

Obviously the list of lessons learned exceeds this little list of fifty… like how I will never take for granted the super sonic internet speeds in South Korea again. How friends or perfect strangers who have bought us a beer (or lunch, or dinner) are acts of kindness that I will never, ever forget. How incredibly humbling it is to be so impatient, cranky, and at times mean and have your travel partner forgive you for being so… human. How incredibly scary the world and its people are not. I’ve learned more than any list can ever spell out, and perhaps the most amazing part of this journey is that I’ve possibly learned more than I might ever even realize.