Climb for Hospice

I’ve done a bit of solo traveling (America, France, Australia, Mexico…), and as great as it is to see the world, it’s just so much more fulfilling to share the world. I’m tired of traveling alone. Seeing all these amazing, strange, breathtaking things, and then turning around to see no one beside me to be in awe with. As much as I like the fact that I can wake up at 7am with an entire day ahead of me in an exotic locale, going to bed alone at the end of the day with no one to excitedly recount the adventures of the day with is really difficult.

I remember being in Paris on Christmas Day, and being totally alone. I was in this *tiny* hotel room, and all I had was my book, a journal, some bread, and my 14 billionth wheel of brie to keep me company. I had spent the day in a laundromat (which I promptly flooded owing to my inability to read French directions on the washing machine), then had gone out for coffee before running to the local store and grabbing some important provisions (fruit, wine, chocolate…).

I came back to my horrendously expensive rented hovel, and rooted through my groceries for a make-shift dinner. After the rattling of the plastic bag was finished, and the brown paper on the bread had been ripped back, I sat down on the bed in total, complete silence. It was so quiet that I lost my appetite.

It wasn’t that I had a bad day or anything – in fact, I kind of get a kick out of the fact that I destroyed a Parisienne laundromat and wandered around in the sleet of December 25th – it was that I had no one to laugh with about my adventures of the day. I became very, very lonely.

I wrapped my dinner back up and put it carefully in my backpack. At 6:30pm, I went to sleep.

I’m tired of traveling alone. I love the fact that I’ll be sharing my Kili experiences with Ali, Christopher and Amanda, and I’m thrilled that I get to blog about it to all of you, as well. I may be on my own when I wander through Dar es Salaam, and I may be swimming with dolphins in Zanzibar all on my own, but I know that you’ll all be here. I’ll get to tell my stories, and recount them moments after they happen, not 2 weeks later when I’m picked up at the airport and want to breathlessly cram 3 weeks of stories into the 20-minute car ride home.

So thank you. Thank you for coming along with me on this journey. Your support means more than you know to the lonely, solo traveler in me.

48 days…

I do not travel well. Really, I don’t. Don’t get me wrong, I love to get out into the craziness of the world and experience new things, but whenever I do something inevitably goes horribly awry.

Like the time I spent a week on the beautiful island of Virgin Gorda after the airline had lost my luggage. Well, when I say “lost” I actually mean “sitting behind the counter in the San Juan airport, the victim of “It’s Not My Job”. Not that one needs a lot of luggage to chill out on a Caribbean island, but a bikini is always nice. And some sunscreen. Since the friend who I was staying with was a size zero, (I don’t care what anyone says, ZERO is NOT a size!), I had to break down and buy a bikini on the island. For $250.

Or how about the time when I went to Paris, and my travel partner took ill and went into the hospital. I must say, wandering around Pigalle by oneself while worried about the health of someone you care about can really put a new spin on a vacation. No worries though, I hopped a bus to Rotterdam. Unfortunately, they showed the movie “Air Bud” on the bus trip. And I cried like a baby through the entire movie, trying desperately to hide my face and sob into my shoulder.

Then there was the “I’ll-Sleep-In-The-Lobby” sized argument that I had with a friend in Mexico City.

And the 3-day leg rash and edema in Amsterdam.

And, of course, the “Your-Credit-Card-Has-Been-Compromised-So-We-Cancelled-It” fiasco that happened when I still had three days left in Greece.

And finally, the “Screaming-Toddler-On-The-Flight-Home” ordeal. Seriously, that kid wailed for almost SEVEN STRAIGHT HOURS. I’ve never seen anything like it. The day after I got home I went to Bose and bought those fabulous Noise-Canceling headphones. HALLELUJAH!

At the time, all of these things were devastating, humiliating and/or mondo-sob inducing. But when I look back now, I can laugh at these situations. I know that something horrendous will happen when I am in Tanzania, and that scares the crap out of me. I’m just hoping it doesn’t involve spiders. Or mugging. Or mugging spiders.

However, no matter what happens, I also know that I’ll be able to laugh about it as time passes. But I’ll admit it: I’m really scared right now…