Finding Purpose in Culture Shock

I never really know how my travel experiences have affected me until I return to my starting point: home. Flying through various destinations and worrying about logistics sometimes takes away the mind’s energy to process what it’s witnessed until it’s back on familiar soil. And since each trip is different, every time I return home, it’s a brand new feeling, a new form of culture shock I can never predict. Coming home from Italy, I have felt pissed off at my hometown for not being as historical and visually stimulating as Florence. After Semester at Sea, it pained me to be away from the people I grew very close to on board. And with the conclusion of my Big Journey, I think I felt more stable and purpose-driven, albeit more confused, than any previous homecoming led me to feel. I think it all depends on the nature of the journey and where you are in your personal path with self-awareness. Because that’s one major reason I travel: to become more self-aware.

And now with the winding down of the World Traveler Internship, I have a whole new set of emotions and passions driving me. For once, I’ve welcomed the comforts of home excitedly. Man did I love sitting around! And for the last month, I’ve spent about 90 hours a week working on my website, on personal projects, and anything fathomable to get me on the path towards being a freelance travel writer. It was the WTI program that assured me I love being thrown into a new country with a mission of documentation. I’ve learned how I love to travel, where I want to travel, and how to deal with the rigors of this oddball, unconventional, thrilling profession.

Anyone with a smidgeon of wanderlust would adore being a World Traveler Intern, but I can promise you an aspiring travel writer, photojournalist, basically anyone wanting to experience and express as a career will be numbed by how cool is to have this job. Throughout the trip, I sporadically stopped and smiled, so appreciative of the opportunity and fully aware of how lucky I was. And now I look forward to seeing what lucky souls will receive the honor next year. I’m certain they will have the time of their lives and return to their home bases more alive and wanderlust-ful, because as any traveler knows, that obsession never goes away. Travel begets more travel.

And now I apply the heaviest of connotations, the deepest of meaning to these next two words, directed at the lovely people at STA Travel: Thank you.

Consume & Update: Travel Quotes, Site Potential and Mexico

This week's RSS feeds and reading sessions resulted in some good finds. Here are the articles and book excerpts I've found relevant, as well as an update on Nomadderwhere. This must be why my hometown of Wabash, Indiana has been calling to me these past few months. For years, I felt odd when visiting the town I left, comparing it to my new city of Indianapolis and letting the occasional snotty comment change my perception of where I spent my first 15 years. But Christine, a head Matadorian, wrote about enjoying the simple pleasures (as determined by you) and how this can lead to an authentic, happy, on-track lifestyle.

Many of us can get caught up in what we see other people doing, and compare ourselves - positively or negatively - to how we perceive them. Instead, as Erica points out, it feels better (and I believe, gets us further) to remind ourselves of what we love in our life. The best part about her list is the fact that she names pretty simple things, ones most people can do pretty much anywhere in the world.

Yet another article from Brave New Traveler, this one relates travel with the art form of improv...not your obvious correlation there. This quote rings very true for me in many instances, and these are often the times when I feel I'm being ungrateful or in "grandma mode". However, just as I remember having to make my own fun in a small town, when traveling I often feel it's up to me and not the place to create the awesome experience.

Most of us can accept that going to a party is no promise of having a good time. Yet, not so obvious to many, is that simply going somewhere exotic is no guarantee of enjoyment. Likewise, most people don’t realize improv isn’t about going out on stage without a script and “being funny.”

Currently, I'm reading Lonely Planet's Travel Writing book that is already accumulating a lot of green highlighter marks and sticky notes for its stellar, yet sometimes obvious, advice. Some of the points I've found useful thus far either teach me something that seems to be a key into the industry or simply remind me of a concept I already know and need to continually relearn throughout this career.

Travel writing, more than any other kind of writing, has to transport you, has to teach you about the world, has to inform you, and, ideally, has to take you into deeper and deeper questions about yourself and the world...get the reader to see the world as a question
Writing of every kind is a way to wake oneself up and keep as alive as when one has just fallen in love.
Bad writing often comes from bad traveling - and bad travel is unimaginative, uninformed and unoriginal.
Writing about everything you did on holiday should be kept strictly between you and your diary; you need to find the theme that will interest an editor.

Update on Nomadderwhere

After an anti-laborious weekend with some of my childhood pals, the week became dedicated to identifying ways I can make money by doing what I already love and commit time/energy to. In doing so, I started brainstorming the possibilities for Nomadderwhere, including new sub-domains, ebooks, services to offer, and new ideas for blog posts. Not only am I looking at my own work but at what I can offer to others without having the foundation of multiple publications and such. And if I'm going to think about what others would pay for, I'm going to need to find out what people want to read, look for that hook to bring in readers.

And Future Travel?

I'm beginning to research the great country to the south in preparation for my Mexican Riviera trip in October. Did you know Mexico is crazy about being the best? or having the most? or making the biggest? at acquiring superlatives? Personally, I'm trying to steer away from the American obsession to use or obsess about superlatives (e.g. OMG, Becca, that was like the best Cheeto I've ever had!), but it looks like Mexico is trying to get back on the world's stage for something other than the piggy flu. I'm grateful to all the Tweeters helping me out with advice on Puerto Vallarta, Mazatlan and Cabo San Lucas, and if you've got suggestions for adventure sports, good times, and more local excitement, let me know!

Consume & Update: Bloggers on Happiness, Ambition, and Reason

I did a little reading this week, and this is what stuck from the lot. Click on the images to read the articles.

The key to happiness or maybe just a good stepping stone

Good Investments

I've only recently come to hear of Rolf Potts, and I look forward to reading his novel "Vagablogging" in the coming months. Here on his blog, fellow writer Scott Gilbertson discusses possible reasons for unhappiness as a result of putting your money to the wrong use: stuff for yourself, and not on experiences for yourself or the people around you. I've really tried to apply this philosophy to my life in the last three years, running from buying stuff and saving for memorable experiences...maybe not with the direct goal of happiness at the front of my mind but more for the "I know I'll be a better person for doing this" reason. I've never been Miss Moneybags and have been spending my own money for quite some time, but I've known I always had enough to do the things I wanted. It may also be that I've only chosen to desire the things that are within my reach. Travel the world? Who needs twenty years of savings! Buy some drinks for people I don't know? Bottoms up, strangers! And the times I've spent money on dresses or crap for the shelves have never been as fulfilling as the money spent on a chicken dinner and dance party for kids. I'm not trying to say I'm holier and happier than thou, but it's all we can do to make the sensible, compassionate steps toward being people we're proud of. And if we're proud of who we are, we're probably pretty happy.

Why its easy to be fat, stupid and untraveled

Shake Up Your Lazy Inertia

This the second Vagabondish article I've really liked from author Turner Wright. His piece entitled "Why it's easier to stay fat, stupid and untraveled" is pretty straightforward. It's too bad our priorities as a mass population reflect a desire to do very little and be happy with that. We never stay still when we eat, or rarely even cook with known, natural ingredients. If your trigger finger is strong and nimble, you can shoot down every online deal you spend hours on your butt searching for. I guess I fall into the sloth lifestyle upon coming home. I work online or read sixteen hours a day and drive to the gym when I need to move around. I rationalize it as time spent researching and building a foundation for those times when I'm running around the world with a mission and a desire to live out ambitions. Anyway, this is an interesting article and one I'd love to hear reflections on from fellow readers.

You're You Everywhere

Lea Woodward writes well and often about being unattached to a place and still making a living. It's called Location Independence. Look into it. Often it's easy to look at a purpose-driven life that's created from one's passions and think "That is the life!" Well, wherever you go, though, there you are. There you are doing the same things, and even though the initial thrills will please you and your travel objectives, we humans are habitual and get into routines, which often feel remarkably similar to those we once had at home...in that stable, stiffling, mundane environment. Wait a minute. Her article isn't to say creating your own lifestyle anywhere in the world is unnecessary because everything's the same everywhere, but it's a "reality check" to make sure you're not in a dream world. Travel and location independence for some is the holy grail, but romanticizing it too much will lead you astray from the realities.

Toxicity Kills the Journey

If I'm honest, I've felt very toxic for the last few months. The acid in my mind (figuratively speaking...) almost felt tangible at moments, and sometimes it takes all the energy you can muster to make those thoughts liquefy and disperse in the name of happiness. This blog from Brave New Traveler, a Matador magazine on the inner thoughts of a traveler, could have been very useful to me in preventing toxicity during my travels.

Update on Nomadderwhere

Since I've been home from the World Traveler Internship, I've begun work on my new website, researched potential projects, and connected with many people interested in my trajectory. My work week is something like 90 hours. I drink a lot of tea. It doesn't feel like work, which means it's the right path, and surprisingly I still don't feel like I have enough hours to progress as far as I'd like.

So what does all this mean for Nomadderwhere?

I'm learning how to write first and write well. Objectives = great subject matter, great blogs, potentially great book material
I've scheduled four different speaking engagements throughout the Northern Indiana area, some directed at photography passionates and professionals. I'm moving from online expression to that of the verbal kind.
The book on my solo RTW has begun its morphing process into a complete idea. It will take many years and many sessions in front of a blank screen...but that end result will come to be.
A new website will be ready and raring by September 23rd that includes more travel advice, suggestions for reading, technology and destination highlights, free city guides, and an even more exciting development for photography.
I have the incredible fortune of cheap travel in the near future, which gives me the perfect chance to create new work on places I've never been or really observed. October is the Mexican Riviera. November is Chicago, Illinois. Who knows if December will hold nothing or a fantastic travel opportunity with a favorite vagabond pal...

Consume & Update: Matador and Upgrade

One thing I missed while frantically running across the globe for the STA internship was the downtime to enjoy some of my favorite reading material: The Matador Network.

Click on the images to follow the stories!

In Traveler’s Notebook

Josh says your active earbuds stand in the way of experience the audio sensations of a destination. For me it completely depends on my mood, because sometimes I’m desperate to get away from the familiar and other times I want to tie old memories music-linked association to the new place I’m experiencing. Occasionally this adds layers to the music you already love (and usually gives me audio inspiration for videos), but I’m on Josh’s side with knowing all sensory factors of the places you visit.

In Matador Goods

Traveling with a scarf (or more specifically a shawl/pashmina/whatevayacallit) is something I firmly believe in. There have been many times when a scarf has served some key purposes: keeping my neck and head from touching snow and getting frostbite, looking dressy even while wearing pajamas, and dressing modestly in conservative areas.

In Brave New Traveler

One more person that makes me think my yet-to-be-explained need to write while traveling is absolutely necessary. Christine writes a good piece on travel writing that links to an interesting book I may just check out! And I understood the following excerpt all too well on the WTI trip.

“Even when we are traveling, attempting to see all the sights - and hit all the nightclubs - keeps us disconnected from this inner knowing. And when we are at home, ideas start drying up; inspiration is, well, lacking. We get frustrated and hit a wall…then, nothing.” Photo by The Trial

Young girl in an orphanage in Chennai, India

Shannon tackles an issue of having compassion on the road and realities behind the impoverished asking for help. I don’t like feeling so cold when confronted on the street by a shoeless child, but I know that giving money or any offering of care isn’t usually the most helpful thing to do. Shannon makes these inner thoughts visible and explains why she appears unaffected by the poverty of her resident country. We certainly all take it in and feel assorted levels of pain and guilt for the suffering of others, but what balance must we strike between indifference and active concern in order to make through the street, the trip, the long term journey? Heavy issue…good read.

And for a Nomadderwhere Update

I've decided to take Nomadderwhere a little further into the travel blog-o-sphere by moving from Wordpress.com to Wordpress.org. For those who don't understand that lingo, I'm making my website bigger and better and in doing so hopefully tailoring it more closely to what people want to read.

It may be wishful thinking, but I plan to launch the new website on my 24th birthday...not too far away! In the meantime, enjoy the current site and feel free to make suggestions for future content! The future may even hold a Nomadderwhere photography site, but it all depends on my computer capabilities...which are a bit lacking for the internet world. I hope you stick around for the revealing of:

The New Nomadderwhere coming September 23rd, 2009!

The real day of departure: Day 3

A torrential downpour washed Dallas clean on the day of our departure. It wasn't the most comforting story to see on a big flight day when the television discussed the Air France flight lost in the abyss of the Atlantic Ocean. But we took comfort in the odds that a similar accident of lightning striking wouldn't happen within 48 hours of the last.

Travel Mecca: Day 2

Dallas is quite a sprawling metropolis, and at her outskirts is a little place some call Heaven...others call Lewisville. When Carly brought us into view of this nook of Texas, I was enthralled by the George Jetson highways soaring above us, the rhythm of strip malls and restaurants lining all roads, and the amount of cars that made up the moving landscape. They really DO do it bigger in Texas. Alright, alright. STA Travel, a.k.a. Travel Mecca, is everything I thought it would be, thanks to the YouTube video coverage parodying The Office and the regular Facebook clips for assorted sweepstakes. When faced with the chance to introduce myself to the company and express my joy and anticipation for the journey ahead, I resulted to the "words cannot express" method (since it's completely applicable here) but wished I could've wowed them with the skills that got me chosen in the first place. Gotta save something for the videos and such. Yeah, that was my strategy all along...

Meeting after meeting flew by discussing our itinerary, our assignments, our incredible equipment, and I buzzed on coffee and questions. Are we really discussing right now a trip that we are taking for free? And all we have to do is tell you and show you how much fun we're having? There still has to be a catch to this whole crackpot scheme. Ah, but no, my friends, we really were covering the details of our African safaris, followed by our Cape Town adventures, followed by our Greek island hopping (and so on and so on).

And with a quick final word of advice from Rachel and Pat, we were off to have dinner and drinks with the STA crew and discuss travel styles, destinations, and the passions behind it all. This, for me, would constitute as celestial perfection, a.k.a. Heaven (cue to harking angels and a beam of light from above). Just a couple chums talking about travel tales over Shiners.

Speaking of Heaven, our last stop for the night to indulge in a "time-honored Texan tradition" brought us to a destination called Red Neck Heaven. Sounds too good to be true, no? Ah, but it wasn't. In fact, I watched four boys inhale live fish down their gullets and one very distressed woman choke back a very, very dead one due to some evil peer pressure.

I, without a lick of regret, did not partake in the challenge and instead could really appreciate the flamboyant horn that sounded after they took their shots. Just like an old neighbor's truck horn in Wabash. Played a little melody I know all too well. The sound of success, if you ask me.

The Moment of Truth: Day 1

From my spot in seat 12D on that much-awaited flight out, I took a bird's-eye-view of Indianapolis and said "sayonara"; I was heading off to be part of the COOLEST INTERNSHIP ON THE PLANET! Pumped. I was so pumped to be traveling again, especially towards an opportunity that could open up mounds of possibilities down the road! Pumped to now travel with a like-minded buddy I'd never met. So utterly pumped was I that I began sweating to the point of being THAT airplane passenger. Ya know...the one that smells like peanuts and armpit.

Upon descending into Dallas and viewing the ever expansive city, I actually had to grab the vomit bag in the seat pocket in front of me. My anticipation of meeting the marketing team and, of course, my travel buddy was causing me incredible bouts of nausea...the good kind. Don't worry, I didn't use the bag. I'm a champ.

Hanging out beside the baggage claim, hat tilted back, bags dangling from his wandering frame, there was Chris, my travel pal. We pulled a "cheesy movie" moment and ran to each other in slow motion, embracing at the meeting point with a much awaited "Yeah boy! Finally! We're doin this!"

And thus began our evening with the marketing team of STA. They hooked us up with a swanky hotel (knowing we weren't going to have it that posh for a while) and took us out for glorious Mexican food. The conversations blossomed like the queso disappeared: instantly. The enthusiasm was palpable, and I went to bed that night a happy woman (watching Family Matters wrapped in a down comforter dressed with a smile).

Day One for Chris and I: one for long-awaited fulfillment.

My Final Solo Hour: Day 203

Screen-shot-2010-02-25-at-9.49.16-PM.png

The following rant was produced during a final purging session in the Honolulu airport. These are quite raw thoughts from a mind coming down from a solo RTW at a very early and confused age... It's been far too easy to accept being around people I know, spending money that's not mine in amounts unjustified, sleeping on mattresses and wearing clean clothes, letting someone else fend for my safety and entertainment, letting myself forget about what I just did. I was so anxious to get off the plane in Maui and see people who would release so many burdens for me and make me finally feel comfortable. I received the treatment that comes with money at no cost to me. And I had the luxury of ears that would listen to my stories, and my mouth wouldn't stop. I wanted to pull out every shirt and bag of tea I bought to display, telling stories of their capture and the game I had to play to pay the right price.

We immediately went into recovery mode, sending me to the spa to cleanse my craggy face. Laying in that perfect bed with someone treating my face to sublime perfection only had me adding the costs and realizing I was spending so many families' yearly incomes on something for myself…that I could do to myself.

I came to the realization that the world is not fair, and I was born in a prosperous and privileged society. I cannot be mad at that. I cannot be mad that people don't know what's out there when it's so hard to penetrate that bubble around America and find the truth of billions of lives. The greenbacks have so little value here, though I was spending them with no problems in worlds that treasured their worth like golden tickets.

And I was once a spectacle with my white skin, my fine hair, a massive German-built backpack and real trekking shoes. I had to hide the location where I stashed my $1 bills and never pulled out my phone unless I could hide it in a corner or feel the comfort of a two-star hotel. I stare at the shoulder of the road, in awe of the space available, and wish there were snack, merchandise, and restaurant stands where I could spend my cents on a cultural gem.

I'm still among oceans and volcanoes, neon sunsets and an international crowd, so I imagine something profound will hit me when I return home to a bleak and misty hometown. I'll be wearing scarves to shield low temperatures instead of covering my shoulders for temples or my hair in Muslim cultures. A coat will be worn more often than a t-shirt, and I'll have a choice of clothing that will make the matter between my ears ache. I'll be tempted by and probably often succumb to the vices of alcohol and club nights more than I will sleep on public transportation and pull out my camera.

I never have to change money. I will have vast quantities of shampoo, conditioner, lotion, soap, hot water, clean water, make-up, light, clean towels, towels with any nip at all, floor surfaces that don't stick or require flip-flops, clean sheets, mattresses with springs and without stains, AC blowing from all angles, air that doesn't have the hint of watered down urine, and I could go on.

There are postcards available through Dragoman Overland that showcase posed pictures of people making the rough transition back home from their overlanding experiences..men squatting in their manicured front lawns while reading the Times and using toilet paper that hovers from an isolated wire…or a person prepared with fork and knife looking at the live guinea pig in front of them, unsure of where to go from here. I plan on being confused again for a long time, and hopefully this time around I will combine that feeling with a little more happiness.

I know that traveling is something that challenges me like a social, gastronomic, survival, monetary, cultural, geographic game of strategy, but I yearn for something other than what I can do for myself. I have taken to heart the advice of a selected few I met on the trail, and whether they were reliable sources of wisdom, I believe there was a fated reason I heard those words trickle from their lips. From their knowledge, I have learned that I think too much, that my imagination has stood in the way of my realized life, and that maybe…I am not happy.

That last statement hurt me the most.

How is it possible to be successful at motivating others, pulsing life into parties, making others and yourself laugh, and listening to your inner most desires without honestly knowing whether happiness is something you truly possess. I have family and some friends that complete my heart's need for company and love, and I have the ability to do things only a tiny fraction of the world's population can share with me. How can I live with an Italian family, cost free, weekend at a Tuscan villa, drink top notch Limoncello, and slice through the world's best pizza without feeling the satisfaction the majority of the world would treasure? I cried at their lunch table because they told me I was unhappy. I started asking people I didn't know if they could sense my Happy Meter.

There could be some merit in the fact that I've done something so magnificent that, now, the thing I want to do the most is what is normally expected of me, at this age, in this culture, in this family, and in this millennium.

It is so important to me to stay in touch with the most primitive side of myself, peeing in the grass, drinking river water, grabbing soil and sleeping undisturbed with the crickets, but I have such a problem following suit in the effort to find the other half that humans have decided is necessary. I've grown so much. I know this has to be true. I've learned recipes and have talked to people in historic societies. I've had a distant perspective on a huge event in my own country and seen how the world reacts to our words. I've been secluded from people who think like me and have found a hidden sense of nationalism that never existed in the consciousness before. I've been without my crutches and my companions for so long that I've become a ready-to-punch, survival-minded Neanderthal that talks to itself for amusement.

This is my mind on overpriced beer, teetering on the edge of a big life landmark. I just traveled around the world and am boarding my 22nd plane of the year. I've maxed out a persons allotted superlatives at the age of 23, and I could brag, I am compelled to unknowingly brag, but I don't want to. I want to seal my lips and hold those thoughts inside. I want to write a novel of secrets and leave the publication the gift of surprise on those I know. So the trip has come to a close. I feel like the world around me should be fuzzy…give me another beer and I think that could happen.

This is a piece I will read at a later date, edit and add to, and suck on like a sweet nostalgic candy. This is a big moment in my life. 203 days of scouring the Earth for happiness and the meaning of life. It was a noble quest that makes me pretend to believe I connect with the greats of history. And now I wish to relate to the greats of my radio, my toted books, the personas on the screens, the withered wrinkles of a past generation I admire. The only thing that matters at this point of time is the word behind the cursor.

I want to make money in some way. I wish I could paint and write and sing dollars into my account while enlightening others to Van Gogh their lives instantly. I'll set such goals lofty high in order to give my life meaning I can be proud of. However, what is very likely is that I will get a job that sets me in a nice place and find myself a few years down the line reminiscing too much about a trip I took one year.

My hope and rock lies in the fact that I've had this thought before, and I squashed it by the conception of my Big Journey. I became a nomad after dreaming about being one. I had a highlight that depressed me, knowing it would soon be in my wake. But a new highlight bubbled into my biography, and I made it happen with desire, dollars, and the knowledge that it was envied. I used to have so much confidence in the person that was myself, that I had never let go of my values, even when they changed, and let the microphone of my consciousness' decisions always resonate the voice of my being…but now I think I am more complicated than I ever let myself acknowledge. I want someone to probe me for information that uncovers layers I've never allowed the light of day. Maybe that's the information that tingles when I have epiphanies, when the broom sweeps the matter I keep piling for comfort and leaves me to feel the rush of wind that combines with a peaceful moment.

I hope that even an ounce of this purge is true. I cannot truly be confident in that fact anymore. I'm just following the ranks of Mrs. Dalloway. Today I wondered why the shuttle driver was so chatty. You ask one question and they ramble like they're the prime time attraction on the latest late night show. And then it came to me, from my father's knowing mouth…they want a tip. Blasted!

America! I forgot your sneaky ways! Welcome home, me. Enjoy your cat. She probably hates you. Begin your life as it was predicted to be. But keep your new knowledge close by. And go pee for Pete's sake! You've had a liter already!

And with this, my Big Journey comes to a close.

Back on Home Turf: Day 202

I left Tokyo in the evening of November 17th...and then I arrived on the morning of November 17th after flying halfway across the world's most expansive ocean. Time travel can really trip you out, if you allow those thoughts to infiltrate your over-stimulated senses. I landed and immediately started making phone calls, thanks to the ridiculous concept that Hawai'i is a part of America (a concept I'll happily accept since it's ballin'.) Oh, the joys of making domestic calls and not worry about accessing the value of your phone call since each minute steals from you $3.00. For the first time since I found out about her engagement in September, I talked to my best friend about her upcoming wedding. It was grand.

Something that developed from this solo trip abroad was an intense willingness to chit-chat with anyone I could come in contact with: customs officers, check-in personnel, and the guy who arranges the pylons in the parking lot...er'body. I find great joy in identifying these things that have changed in me from May to November, and talking to strangers as if we're chums is one of them.

I hung out in the Honolulu airport for a few hours, smiling from ear to ear every time I could speak to an airport employee or grace my optics on a gawdy, hilarious Hawaiian shirt. And I was anxiously anticipating the coming reunion, that with my parents after six months apart. Not that I'm a Mama's girl or anything, but that length of time can certainly make you miss your parentals. It was only a 15 minute flight, flying with the trade winds and grazing over blue waters and white feathered waves, but it was hard to appreciate the beauty of my last lone flight on this journey because of my knocking knees and chattering choppers.

Descending the escalator of the terminal to see Mom's dancing feet was a thrill. There were a few double pulsed hugs and the adornment of the obligatory lei. I willingly soaked up every moment when someone wanted to do something for me. Usually I demand to carry my own weight and open my own doors, but I let Dad be the white knight to his heart's content.

I rode in the seat of honor, up front in a blinding white convertible, regurgitating stories non-stop and watching the street shoulders, amazed there were no entrepreneurs out selling their food and wares. I played my CDs purchased from the streets of Bangkok and showed off what finger and toe nails I was able to salvage from my fungal issue (delicious, eh?).

I looked around to observe the entire island of Maui. We weren't driving on a skyway or even at a high elevation, but as we looped around towards Maui's northwest coast, I could see the looming volcano and wrapping beaches for miles. Each time we drove throw a cut, fences and nets held back the settling crumbles of volcanic rock wanting to go with gravity. The drive reminded me of my bucket list plans to live on a beach for a year and solidified the idea that Hawai'i might have to be the place for such a beach-front lifestyle.

We had a time share condo in a building by the Kanapali beach where I took great pleasure in seeing the Clark household staples food groups: red wine, skim milk, chocolate, pretzels/nuts, and whole wheat bread. My mom didn't waste a second in making me a welcome back Bloody Mary, not that I enjoy this drink especially but because she was proud of her ever-so delicious Zing-Zang mix. After setting up my office on the patio with my computer my parents brought from home, I began showing photos from the most recent experiences. I could not organize my thoughts into digestible stories nor could I even stay with one photo album but jumped from safari shots in Africa to people poses in India. How does one start retelling a tale of epic proportions?

I kid you not, and I apologize for being graphic, but I had a beard of acne upon getting back to American soil. I was disgusted with myself, and Mom was more than willing to help me out with this issue by sending me on my way to the in-house spa. After briefly discussing my trip and recent trans-Pacific flight with the woman performing my intense facial, I completely passed out, unfortunately not feeling the soothing effects of the work but definitely benefiting from the extraction of African dust and sweat from Asia. It was a job that desperately needed to be done. Ick.

I lounged by the pool, read issues of my high school magazine, and called every friend I missed hearing. I adorned new clothing for the first time since...who knows when. And we hit up every type of food I had missed while out and about. Mexican was a speedy first stop, although, being out of the habit of carrying around my ID, I lacked adequate proof I was of age to imbibe any cold ones from Mexico. This happened not just once but just about every time we went out. Fortunately we stopped getting so adventurous and just started eating at the hotel, within running distance from the ID in our room.

Now, the Clark family isn't the most adventurous or active family. We have trouble doing anything that doesn't involve a tennis racquet, walking shoes, or a beach chair while on vacation. But one thing Mom organized for us to do, initiated by her own desire, was ziplining across the valleys of the volcano. And let me tell you, watching those two fling themselves around from ledge to ledge was entertaining to the point of stomach cramps. Each time one of them landed at the end point of one zipline, their feet would struggle to grab the landing, often resulting in a butt slide or Fred Flintstone twinkle toe moment. I video taped everything to laugh at time and time again. Our group loved the hilarity and couldn't believe this was all Mom's idea to fly around a volcano on wires.

The drive to and from the ziplines was reminiscent of the drive to the Serengeti in Tanzania, corrugated and highly pocked, which made the middle-agers wince and make one-liner jokes to their adventure companions. I love how people bond on these afternoon excursions; everyone wanting to prove they aren't the group party-pooper or dry spirit. It's hilarious. I volunteered to sit in the back, knowing from experience I don't normally spew when deprived of good air and sent airborne in the back of a motor vehicle.

The consensus of this Hawaiian experience in my mind was that it was surprisingly NOT hard to get back to the luxurious side of life. True, this fact shocked and actually scared me, that I had not be completely slanted towards the simple ways after four months of hard living (in Africa and Asia). However, I think this time coming home, I understood all too well that the world really is unfair, and that I've lived like this lushly since birth. Not that we lose Benjamins in the couch cushions and buy caviar for our Ritz crackers or anything, but we are comfortable in the American eye. I guess I looked at this change in lifestyle as a cultural experience. Just one more stop on the itinerary, and I looked at our family traditions with a fresh glance.

I awoke very late in the mornings due to jetlag, and I often felt uneasy as I opened my eyelids. Many times in Maui, I had the unsettling dream that I, along with my family and all who knew me, forgot what I had just accomplished: seven months of solo RTW travel. In these nightmares, I would have brief recollections of my experiences but would soon lose lucidity and go on living like I used to. I think I felt this because we stopped talking in such detail and with interest about my trip, but I battled those nightmares off by pulling out my computer yet again to reconnect with the images of my traveling past. Apparently, my subconscious never wants to forget my 2008 voyage. I don't blame it.

Written in the Star

I feel incredibly privileged to be a featured person in the Indianapolis Star. After an hour long interview and photo shoot a couple months ago, this article brought me great joy with its final materialization on Sunday, also race day in Indianapolis.

I was sitting in a lawn chair, cold beer perched in my camera-case-turned-koozie, hearing Indy cars zoom behind me, when my parents forwarded the link to the piece online. Reading the whole thing while sitting there amongst the thousands of fans at an event that was integral to my WTI success (see video)...it was all so smile-inducing.

The article takes the form of a Q & A, just as the interview did. The responses, now not just in my head but in print around central Indiana, reminded me of the excitement I find in this travel game (not that I needed the memo) and why I do it.

I'm hoping to open minds, and being from a city where the travel section comes out but once a week in a small, hidden section of the paper, I hope to connect to many at home that may have the misconception of "scary, expensive travel" and not "mind-boggling, self-defining, gorgeous, inspiring, life-changing travel."

Big expectations. Big dreams. A big summer. We doin' big thangs, whodi.

Two Weeks to Go!

Guacamole of Holiness! We're leaving in the wink of a moment for the World Traveler Internship. I keep thinking back to the big phone call and that visceral awareness I had of this imminent journey. Today, it's but an idea that I cannot grasp. I keep saying this, but it's impossible to fathom how cool this experience really is! So two weeks until departure...What have I been up to?

I've been brushing up on my dance moves, perfecting such moves as the Jerri Blank, the robot, unspeakable gyrating, and much more, hopefully all culturally accepted in our future destinations.

During said dance break, I began my work on dealing with uncomfortable situations by "dealing" with the dead chipmunk my cat dragged to the threshold of the downstairs patio. Troubleshooting involved first using my tripod legs like I was Inspector Gadget to remove the dead rodent and second, successfully, with the bottoms of my flip-flops. Bucky is still lying outside my window in the garden, legs frozen in pre-spring tension (sorry for the grotesqueness, PETA).

Flexibility is key in travel, so when I had to take a detour in my plans with "bush" camping, thanks to a mild monsoon, I dealt with these changes like a pro...and regretfully returned to my "comfortable, safe, convenient" bed inside. Darn.

Had some fun with time lapse photography and a mock packing exercise. I'm still waiting to know what I'm packing...it's all up to the poll!

Since I'm still an owner of a PC (please don't giggle), STA sent me the MacBook to allow adequate familiarity with the world of Macs. Did you all know it's possible to compose your own music on something called GarageBand? And do you know how swiftly these things run? How intuitively? My mind has been iRocked.

If you pay attention to this blog at all, you've realized surely by now that I'm all about recording every moment of this pre-departure experience. Now that you've seen what I am able to produce, I'd love some feedback on what you like to hear...AND SEE! After all, I am putting myself through this rigorous experience all for the benefit of hopeful travelers like yourselves. Oh, what a burden I must bear. Ha!

T minus 20 days until Lewisville

I have less than three weeks, THREE WEEKS I tell you, until my plane leaves for the STA Head Office in Lewisville, Texas. I couldn't list any adjectives describing my excitement even if my life depended on it. The visceral anticipation has not come to me yet, and how could it when the most incredible opportunity too cool to fathom is on my horizon? I recently spelled out a few things I am doing to prepare for the World Traveler Internship, but how is everything developing, you ask? Quite nicely, actually. Thank you for inquiring.

Body Training

I've never been fit, I'll be honest. I used to wear t-shirts in the pool and nude-colored leotards under my skimpy dance outfits. However, I've gotten over that embarrassed state from my childhood and have learned to use that extra fluff for even more impressive cannonballs.

On my previous trip, I had trouble incorporating a workout routine to my nomadic lifestyle, and this left me feeling bogged down and rather unhealthy. Fortunately for my slow body, I (usually) allotted myself oodles of time to avoid that rushed and exhausting experience of being on the road. The Internship, however, will be a whirlwind I've got to be prepared for.

I decided to turn up the dial and hire a trainer, April, at my local industrial sized fitness facility, Lifestyle Family Fitness (I'm not plugging right now, I just like specifics). This girl has everything I want in a trainer:

1. Doesn't treat me as though I am inferior
2. Admits her own inadequacies and makes this fitness challenge feel like a group effort
3. Offers wonderful ideas for replicating the workouts we do while traveling (e.g. "Do these push-ups off your hostel bed...You can get the same results by sitting like this with a rubber band around your feet")

I take multi-vitamins. I now eat roughly six small meals a day. I get my heart rate up six times a week and pump mad iron four times. My grandma thinks I'm losing weight. I'll take her word for it.

I'm actually liking all this. I am a creature of habit, so getting into a routine pleases me. All I can ask for is a little more vim and vigor on the road (and possibly a core like Jennifer Aniston), so I can approach any experience energetically from start to finish.

Mind Training

I listened to you. There was an overwhelming lead for Bill Bryson's In a Sunburned Country at the time when I was ready for a new book, and now, any chance I get, that two-pointed nose of mine is all up in that book.

Spirit Training

As evident by the background of suburban homes, this adventure is sure to be trying and extreme. What am I trying to do?

Get tough.

Living with the comforts of a nice mattress, clean carpet, and temperature control have possibly made me a nancy, no longer able to hack it in the world of adventure travel. I'm powerless and vulnerable to the hardships the elements can muster. I've got to get my toughness back.

And so I pitched my tent, my beautiful Coleman from my 10th birthday (although back then I was only allowed to pitch it indoors), and this week I will sleep in my backyard and reform that thick skin I used to sport during my Big Journey days. Though the experience will pale in comparison to the bush camping of East Africa, we do have a coyote around here somewhere...and that could make late-night bathroom breaks kinda ugly.

Interested in my backyard tent antics? Videos to come by May 15th and be sure to follow my twitter for real-time updates. I sense you're ever-so anxious to know what happens...

The Yesteryears of Library Cards

Today I read my Bill Bryson book on that ever-so scenic drive to North Manchester, Indiana, and in one of those pauses in concentration when I gazed at the book cover, I realized, "Why did I buy this book?" Oh, I'm very intrigued by the book, don't confuse that. But these days, with my new minimalist attitude towards belongings, I hate holding onto books (other than favorites) after I've read them. I hate spending money, and it's not as if I gain adequate compensation from selling my finished books back to Half Price Books.

When my childhood was filled with trips to the library, long afternoons browsing books and magazines, and sitting in untouched nooks of the stacks with a riveting Roald Dahl work, I wondered today where that compulsion went.

When did the library becoming an after-thought?

Is it the crackling of the clear plastic book covers that causes distaste? The sour memories from caffeine-facilitated all-nighters in college? Fear of the Dewey Decimal System? This made me wonder, "How many of you sidestep Borders and your local discount bookstore for the convenient cost-efficiency of the library?"

One Year Ago Today

One year ago today, this began.

I'm thinking back to the all-nighter I pulled before I guzzled a glass of micro-nutrient drink, piled my bags into the car, and left out of the old (and now non-existent) Indianapolis Airport for Milan, Italy. I'm sad and happy and all sorts of amazed.

How on Earth did I wrangle another RTW experience while still in the wake of the last one. And though I've been battling this concept for the last month (oh gosh, I don't deserve this...wait, maybe I do...naw, I'm un-deserv--O.K. I earned this...and so on), I've landed on grateful, humbled, numb, and overwhelmed.

The last 365 days have been nothing but travel-soaked and incredibly productive. I've grown astronomic amounts with the embarkment, every day of overstimulation, and the decompression in America where I've chewed on my global experiences with fermented values and beliefs. With all the many ladies who have asked me for advice and inspiration to do their own solo RTW, I surely hope I convinced even one to make the dream happen ASAP for the sake of their own development. Not that I believe I've grown as much as I ever will from one year, but at times I feel as though I skipped a year or two in the maturing process and came out a solid individual.

And so tonight, on this Cinco de Mayo, I'll treat myself to a beer or three (domestic unfortunately) and cheers to personal dreams being accomplished and the growth of the individual thanks to travel and experience.

Side note: As it is the end of the month, I am in the process of gathering contributions to the charities I've been moved by. This has been a sad month with the passing of Evan Witty, my friend and fellow volunteer with Cambodia's Hope, and I want to make it easy and convenient for anyone to offer something for his initiatives and passionate endeavors. If you are interested in sending a donation, get it to me and I'll send it off (or give you information on how to do so).

Indy Local News Covers This Girl

I remember the excitement in elementary school from making it on the local TV channel during our Indian and Pioneer reenactments; oh, what a thrill. However, today was infinitely cooler as I took a very “Alice in Wonderland” wide-eyed gaze around the WISHTV set. I was probably just projecting, but those anchors and backdrops looked crisper and more vibrant than the rest of the visible world (must be because they’re in High Def).

After speeding through Indianapolis on a Sunday morning (mistakenly wearing flip-flops out the door and having to meet my mom half-way back home for a shoe switch-a-roo), I went from the entrance to the set’s black couch in about 20 seconds flat. No preparation. No verbal briefing. No quick powdering of the nose.

I watched coverage of the swine flu and local weather forecasts from my dark corner of the set, amazed I had a reason for being there to contribute, and was eventually joined by an anchor who quickly went through the upcoming questions.

I didn’t know where to put my hands. I saw my dark silhouette in the crew’s monitor. The lights illuminated my formerly creepy corner and revealed a set as high tech as the rest of ‘em. My lips started twitching, but knowing that would definitely show up in HD, I looked at my interviewer and mentally checked out. Luckily, autopilot kicked in.

Eventually, the lights dimmed, and I was shaking hands in closing. Unless my mind regenerated a completely fictional last three minutes of life, I actually believe I didn’t mess up! Even my brother, the one most excited to tell me my flaws in a humorous manner, complimented my comfortable and clear dialogue.

Success? Sch-wing!

Only regret: not wearing lipstick. Hello, No-Mouth.

Insert Pun using word "May" here

And then there's May - the beautiful month of blooming things and excitement for the freedom of months ahead. So how does one prepare for the STA World Traveler Intern in the final stretch?

April and its Many Pleasures

The STA World Traveler Internship is becoming a dot on my horizon now, within viewing range and getting bigger and more omnipresent in my daily life with each globe rotation. And if you've been wondering how I am preparing for this experience, I guess you haven't been following my blog. Wa waaaaaaa...sad. Well, I've been building my domain from its humble roots at blogspot to where it is now, a whole lotta pages of stuff. And with my previous trip still hovering in a cloud above my head like unprocessed thought bubbles, I've been busy putting that experience in an oak barrel for further fermentation before its eventual publication (in book form, baby!).

In the last couple weeks, I've had some thrilling moments, all in the name of travel and enjoying the Motherland. With this focus on "being where I'm not", I often shrink out of the social picture or adopt the ways of penny-pinchers to increase my spendings for future trips abroad. Oh, but not this time.

Road Trip to Des Moines

Two weekends ago, I decided to honor a promise I made to a certain sorority house in Des Moines, Iowa, one which graciously offered incredible support for a girl they didn't know in a contest that thrived on public outreach. I called up my travel buddy, Garrett, a Semester at Sea friend, and asked him if he was doing anything that weekend and wanted to fly to Indy for a road trip. Within hours he was booked, and within a week we sat in Broad Ripple (a neighborhood/the Indy Mecca of all things party-like) at a dimly-lit Egyptian restaurant talking strategies for shocking our friend, Alexis, tomorrow in Des Moines. Alexis is another Semester at Sea friend, my potluck roommate, and my ultimate travel companion. She knew I was coming but didn't know about the impromptu Flight of the Garrett.

The drive across three "I" states went from flat to flowing and chatty to hilarious. Needless to spell out in eloquent script, she was happy with the Garrett surprise hidden in the truck under my Dora the Explorer pinata and then immediately led us to our afternoon activities of outdoor paint fights and formal affairs (yes, it was a quick turnaround of cleanliness and demeanor, but we're professionals).

Day #2 in Des Moines consisted of finding Garrett's pants, eating excellent BBQ, and loading into a purple party bus with $250 worth of canned, bubbly goodness. These Drake University sorority girls put on quite a show in the middle of the bus, bringing along stuffed squirrels, skis, and funnels galore, and I couldn't help thinking how interesting American undergraduate culture would seem to anthropologists from foreign lands and times. We laugh at the cows on the streets in India thinking, "Why is that necessary?" I wondered the same thing while rolling through downtown in a crammed bus, sipping chilled beverages, watching others drink and high velocity and volume, and listening to Flo-rida's obsession with boots and fur. What a weird world we live in.

Little 500

The World's Greatest College Weekend. I challenge all to refute this statement. And though I will consider the point that it's delusional to believe without a doubt your college traditions are superior to others, I will speak firmly for myself and say I truly had my greatest Little 5 experience this time around.

Indiana University holds a bike race every spring where Greek and independent teams compete for pure glory and risk the bones in their body for our awe of the athletic spectacle. This time-honored tradition had apparently been in my blood for years prior to my actual attendance, as my father was on the steering committee for the events in his stint as a Hoosier. Of course, I don't bike, and neither does my dad, but we sure do enjoy watching things go in circles; and by things, I mean finely-tuned human machines on Schwinn bicycles.

As evolution would have it, the athletic event named Little 500 (standing in the shadow of the Indy 500 motor race 60 miles away) quickly transformed itself into a week-plus of gluttonous binge drinking and the active pursuit of making this guzzling action creative with varied activities (e.g. Greek events, massive themed house parties, strategic bar hopping, outdoor games, personal challenges, and the "early bird gets the tequila worm" mentality). Once again, the sight is one that simultaneously inspires awe, disgust, belly laughs, amazement, and disbelief.

This year was possibly the best because of my mastery in selecting venues and juggling my circles of friends. I had no idea I would could enjoy the bars on the busiest nights of the year (GO TOWNIE BARS!), hang with my favorite people (thanks to an unexpected, melodious blending of high school and college pals), experience new sides of my four-year home (Hello, Bloomington breakfasts), and all the while feel generally pleasant (life hasn't been the same since I found the "turn-off switch" for imbibing). I'm growing up and learning the tricks, learning who I like to be surrounded by, and understanding my own familiarities with new eyes.

On top of the weekend's perfection, I reaped once again the wonderful benefits of being an applicant in the STA pool. I got to meet up with a fellow Top Ten'er, Bob Fawcett, and boy did we have a good time. Friday night we met and exchanged a good amount of chatter at my new favorite townie bar, The Vid, discussing videos, potential life plans, experiences at IU, and all things deliciously travel related. Saturday night, however, brought on a whole new range of excitement with new townie bars, traditional Bloomington cocktails, night rides in pizza delivery trucks and a pre-dawn hang session in what most Hoosier students would entitle "Hippy/Creeper's/Skater/Don't-go-there-ever Park."

The most notable perk of this awesome encounter happened with our lingering stance on the curb outside the bars, where we conjured plans to ride in a very rumbly, intimidating truck parked nearby. Item #1 on my Life List keeps me always searching for the ultimate truck bed experience, but unfortunately Bloomington on race night is no place to challenge the laws of the State of Indiana. Instead, we asked the pizza delivery guy who owned the fantastic truck to take us along for his next delivery in the truck cab.

"We just want to see the town and go on a little adventure."

After showing us his teeth could pop out of his mouth (wow, they were in his mouth, and then all of a sudden they weren't!), he offered us a ride. We then proceeded to get our brains scrambled with the sudden acceleration of his loud engine and exchange looks in the backseat that screamed "Ridiculous!" in polite silence. It was a short adventure, but it left us laughing for a while as we eventually wandered towards People's Park for a chat that led into Sunday's sunrise.

I have finally found people that do what I do, share my oddball passion, and I thank STA once more for creating a venue for travelers to find each other and share what gets them going. Which leads me to my next pre-departure activity...

Lunching with a fellow Applicant

I'm not the only one who loves Yat's, Indianapolis, and traveling. After watching Jackie Knowles' application video for STA WTI, I thought "Yikes!"...I've got intense competition in my own 'hood! Though we don't share picket fences, Jackie and I share a side of Indianapolis, and we became in contact thanks to our Youtube videos.

We met up this week on an awesome weather day for an outdoor dining experience at our favorite eatery and exchanged travel stories that thrilled us. Jackie has had a slew of ballin opportunities, and lunching with this girl solidified my goal of reaching as many of those like-minded travel enthusiasts (applicants or otherwise) to contribute to the journey ahead.

It's really occurred to me now that the Youtube responses for the Internship are a coagulation of amazing minds that could make the trip mind-boggling in reach, motivation, and coverage. Just as I encouraged Jackie, I want to reiterate to anyone reading, "COLLABORATE!"

Wow. And that was just a week and a half in the Midwest. Not too shabby of a place, my friends, not too shabby at all.

And A Bucket I Did Make!

I got going fast. I guess it was all that sleep I got last night...really got my juices flowing today. Sometimes I need a little help remembering the vast expanse of possibility this world holds for us. And to make it a little more interesting/motivating, I'll keep you up to date on the developments and steps toward making those dreams come true (for those who give a rat's arse). Check out my ever-developing Life List...

Lindsay's Life List...thus far

Bucket. Life. Whatever you want to call it.

Lists.

I love lists.

More importantly, I love using paper to pen-scribble in a way that makes me feel productive and successful. I've tried to make a "Bucket List" many times and have a small one I refer to on occasion. However, it is in no way extensive and truly reflective of my life goals. I do very much believe in the first item on the list (1. Hitchhike in the back of a rickety truck with chickens, goats, or other nervous livestock).

Upon reading this article, I decided I may attempt to grapple this task and see if it feels like the right task for me. If I get annoyed with the concept and scrap my developments in anger and frustration, you'll know by the lack of posting on such a topic in the future.

As I begin my soul-tapping exercise, I dare you to make one yourself...or if you cannot commit to such a high level of responsibility, leave a comment documenting one of the possibilities on your non-existent list. If you are having trouble getting started, a few people have published their life goals for your ridicule, admiration, or klepto-tendencies: Mighty Girl, John Goddard, or the Whole Darn Community.

The Sunglasses Tell All...My STA Introduction

Introduction #2 and more content still to come.

It feels like an honor to be an STA WTI for this summer 2009. Get to know a little more of what I'm about, and I hope you feel very encouraged to follow our journeys and be an active part of the trip!

Beautiful, no? Any questions?