Why on Earth?
Are you an idiot?
Why did I sell my car and spend my life savings to travel around the world solo when all my friends were getting jobs, getting their Masters, and making bank?
During my second semester of senior year, I believe I stared at my smudged ceiling every night before going to bed, feeling my body lie lifeless on the bed and trying to imagine how I was supposed to be a gear in the big global system. I cried a lot. For me, it didn’t feel right to begin a job in an industry or a location I wasn’t passionate about.
Having already traveled the world with Semester at Sea, I sampled an incredible platter of world cultures and natural settings I could barely process, and to move along with the American timeline as if I knew nothing different was to deny my own happiness and curiosity. I presented myself with a wide variety of options including further schooling, potential careers, city changes and plans to be an expat. Under it all, there was a mad desire to prove to myself I could circumnavigate the 24,000 mile waistline of Lady Earth by my lonesome, so I began checking things out.
How’d you come up with this Crackpot Scheme?
The trip grew very organically. Dad had never been to Italy before, and I wanted to get back to the “Boot” as fast as possible after graduation from University. I looked into living with families, getting an extended stay visa, browsing subletted apartments, and anything under the Tuscan sun. As a graduation gift, my parents used their points to fly me over the Atlantic, and when it came time to plan my return to the US of A, there were no vacant seats on return flights after the three month duration of my regular visa. I don’t know if this constitutes as believing in signs, but I used this “inconvenience” as a wonderful opportunity to undertake another RTW (round the world) journey, chasing the rising sun for months as a solo silhouette.
I spent a lot of time browsing such websites as BootsnAll, Lonely Planet’s Thorn Tree Forum, and too many photo/guide/travel books to ramble off one year later. Papa Bear would accompany me on the many visits to Borders where I sat with a chai latte and a stack off books a foot high, taking copious notes and daydreaming about freedom. Though I hope to be a writer some day and want to support the authors of my favorite travel narrative genre, I don’t often purchase the books I peruse…except for this one: Edward Hasbrouck’s The Practical Nomad
You must’ve blown a HOLE in your pocket just from flights!
On the contrary, my fictional opponent. Hasbrouck being a 15 year veteran of the air travel industry, he knew a thing or 70 about flying in this most unconventional of manners. I went to Airtreks.com and created a few potential multi-city routes around the globe, or at least around the Atlantic. Nico quickly called me in hopes to discuss my travel opportunities and solidify a destination list with dates. WHOA MAMA! I wasn’t truly ready yet, but he was patient as I flipped and flopped around my map looking for what felt right.
You are so weird. NO ONE does this sort of ridiculous trip.
While walking around my college house one afternoon, nose thoroughly sunken into my Practical Nomad, a father of one of my roommates noticed the novel stuck to me and asked about my travel plans after graduation. When I told him I wanted to be a vagabond and traverse the earth like a crazy, he told me he had a family friend that did just that. His e-mail came into my hands, and I inquired about his adventures, seeking help for my own. John wrote back with a very well-thought out description of his budget, ambitions, route, and so on. I was and still am forever indebted.
John spent 100 days abroad in East Africa, South and Southeast Asia, enjoying adventure tours and solo galavanting. I looked further into such tours and modes of traveling in these areas of the world, along with the experiences encountered there, the people and organizations I knew, and went about the active duty of investigating overlanding companies and more.
Why did you choose to go to the most unappealing places?
While my roommates were at Daytona Beach sporting massive sunglasses and looks of dehydration, I sat in my basement scheming. I looked at Italy and saw my Mecca of Florence, my base camp, and all the radiating hot spots I wanted to frequent while in the country. I saw the entirety of Europe and the Balkan countries my Semester at Sea friends and I wanted to paint a robust red color. So I bought a rail pass. But where else?
South Africa while aboard SAS was a continent-tease. It was just the tip, and it wasn’t enough for me. I checked into East Africa and the possibility of getting from A to B…or Z. Forums and travel blogs mentioned the difficulty of using public transportation across some of the countries since buses don’t run on the same predictable time schedule as American (scratch that, Japanese) ones do. Overlanding was the “cool” way to fly around towns and see the spots in between. Who really knows what the land looks like between Jinja and Eldoret? Serengeti and Zanzibar? Iringa to Lilongwe? I didn’t either. Overlanding was the very tempting solution. I had Excel documents lined with pros and cons for each company I found but finally landed back on the company suggested to me by John in the first place: Dragoman.
Jon Krakauer is an excellent storyteller, and never has a girl with mitral valve regurgitation been so inspired to scale a high altitude mountain. Into Thin Air convinced me that I was indeed enamored with not only mountain ranges but THE mountain range. I’m talking about the Himmies. To India I wanted to go. I had already been to the hot and sticky India, the one that wafts the constant stench of poo, but the northern beauties were my ultimate pilgrimage site, and not even poo can stand in the way of that.
With India being on the complete opposite side of the Earth, it only made sense to keep going and hit SE Asia, as I’m sure my wallet wouldn’t be able to lift me around Australia. Jumping over Burma to avoid night terrors from Desmond Tutu, I set out to experience something different than my previous trip exploits: voluteering. I knew about an orphanage in Cambodia that would embrace a SASer with a smile, so I contacted the coordinator of volunteers and put that spot on the list.
With Moms and Pops wanting to meet me before I returned to the big, bad USA, Hawai’i was the only real choice considering my parents have a love affair with the island of Maui. Stopping in Japan first to see a friend and catch the Hawai’i-bound flight, the trip’s lines suddenly all connected, and a route finally materialized. Europe to East Africa to India to Cambodia to Japan to Hawai’i to Indianapolis: I’d come home full circle, once again.
You’re going to get so tired of living out of a backpack.
Nay. I’d get so tired of living a boring life.
Whatever. Nice knowin’ ya. BlahesqueBLAHschplueee…
Every question, derogatory statement, and naive scoff I scribed above (in blue) was a real life response or inquiry I heard while planning this big journey. I had to justify my heart’s calling all too often, but this wasn’t to say that I went unsupported. The thousands of RTWers, especially those of the fairer sex and younger skin, had experience after experience to back my dreams. When it came down to the wire and my flight reservations were awaiting my nod, I began to hesitate and second guess my “crackpot scheme”. Out of the depths came my mother, in the calmest voice she’s summoned since our infant days, to tell me this is what I really wanted and should do. Since Mom is the number one cheerleader who chants “S.T.-ay at HOME, Stay. At. HOME!”, I was surprised to get the most level-headed and understanding comment from her.
The deadline for my reserved flights ticked into its final stretch while I was in art class, and I left my ceramics lab with bone-dry, flaking hands to find a vacant computer in the hallway. I filled out a few more obligatory forms and clicked the final green button. I bought my tickets for a trip around the world and could no longer back down.
I was free.
