A Pre-Post Asia Pondering

Once again I was reminded of one of the things that I love about traveling. It expands your comfort zone and breaks you all at once. It breaks you in the worst way and then you’re left to rebuild yourself into the new version of you. Never is it an easy task and if you cry, that’s okay.

When I had booked tickets to Bangkok I was fresh into my adventure. Barely three days into my trip and my original plans had gone to shit. The hostel hadn’t gotten back to me and honestly I being home for Christmas was looking really nice. Not to mention Jimmy had invited me to his EMT formal in January. So finishing my trip early and with a bang seemed like the best idea!

I remember booking the tickets and I was so excited. I stayed up half the night looking for things to do and places to see. It was all a brilliant sparkly new idea. Then somewhere along the way I decided it was going to be better to swing by a few countries. AirAsia made that an easy decision.

I booked tickets and hostels while in Prague. Although admittedly I put off a lot of the hostel booking because it was stressing me out.

The closer Bangkok got the more I started to over think it. People were pointing out how dangerous South East Asia was, especially for a solo female. I was getting in my own head because I had my Macbook along for the ride.

And then I was getting jacked up on the idea that I didn’t speak the language. Taxi’s were the easiest way to get about but what if they took me an extra long route on purpose? I didn’t want to be a typical tourist getting ripped off. Clearly I over though the entire thing and it stressed me to the max. It broke me.

I flew from Prague to Oslo to catch my flight south. I had an hour layover in Oslo. Just enough time to disembark, pass security, grab a coffee and have a near meltdown.

I was standing in the line to get my exit stamp from the Schengen Line when I was thinking “Maybe heading home would be best.” I’d been feeling sick to my stomach and weepy since I left Lenka’s that morning.

Then I passed boarder control and I was past the point of no return. So I tried to psyche myself up and give myself a pep talk.

Because honestly the last time I’d come so close to quitting an adventure was January 2011 when I was standing in the Shannon immigration line at 5 in the morning. I had to firmly remind myself that the last time I felt this scared was the beginning of a life changing trip.

The fact that I had kept the tears at bay didn’t keep me from sending long, loving text messages to my family, friends and Jimmy. Because I figured hey if anything goes wrong at least everyone knows I love them.

That 13 hour flight felt twice as long. I felt borderline sick the entire ride. I tried to journal out my fear. I got no sleep and ended up watching movies.

I landed in Bangkok and went through boarder control without a single issue. By this point I had a headache and was exhausted. It was 7 something local time. The time difference would continue to fuck me up the entire stint in SEA.

The twelve hour difference between Thailand and New Jersey meant that everyone was busy with their own lives at home. I flailed and tried to get a hold of someone to talk me down because I felt a full on melt down coming.

No one was there.

So I sat in the Bangkok airport and cried.

I totally broke.

And I leaned into the brokenness and fear that had been tinging the last day and a half. I cried it out while everyone at home was moving on with their day totally unaware that I felt the most alone I’d felt in years.

The only thing that kept me from booking a flight home was the fact that I didn’t want to board another long haul flight of 13+ hours to get home. That and the fact that I was sure I’d never forgive myself for giving up right before the true adventure started.

I was gently gathering the pieces of my broken self when my mum messaged me back. With none of the gentlness I though I needed.To say the least it wasn’t the response I had expected. It was harsh and it was something that I would tell myself. It was just what I needed.

And that was that. I wiped my eyes, blew my nose, shouldered my pack and went to the taxi queue.

That was when Asia officially started. The hardest part of that entire trip was leaving the Bangkok airport. And as I write this post I’m reminded of another trip that the hardest part was leaving the airport. November 2011 I backpacked Spain for 12 days all on my own, it was my first solo backpacking endevour. The hardest and scariest part of that trip was leaving the Madrid Airport.

So in life, I think the thing that makes us all the most scared of doing something is our preconcieved idea of what lays in the next step. Weather that step is leaving an airport or sending an email to an agent.

The fear is only in our heads.

That was the most poinent lesson of this trip. That all the things I thought were scary were just in my head. If I just ignored those voices that said something should strike fear into me I had the best day.

There were times in my trip where I didn’t feel safe. Where I felt out of my depth. Where I felt off kilter and awkward. Where I felt alone. Where I felt lost and afraid.

In one particular instance of wandering where I felt unsafe, out of my depth, and close to tears I was hit with the most profound idea. That just because I’m scared doesn’t mean that a place is scary. And if you find the fear that’s within you is based on your external surroundings then you should challenge it. Push your limits and break that fear. Because there’s a vast area on the other side where fear used to live and now you can move in there. Your comfort zone can expand into that place that used to harbor fear. And that’s just what I did. Over and over and over again.

Two weeks in South East Asia saw me doing things daily that scared me shitless. But at the end of the day when I’d text everyone or update Instagram I was proud to talk about my day and the things that I saw. I never really shared all my fears because by the evening they seemed so far off and petty.

What I love most about my travels is that every time I face down something new. I graple with it every day of my trip and I come home someone new and changed.

Travel breaks you.

But it also rebuilds you.

Feelings-sick

These last two days have been a bit shit for me. And it's been drama from home that's been bringing me down. And the fact that my dad told me that my dog Charles got out of the house and got picked up by animal control and had to get a rabies booster. It worries me there because my dog Sydney got really sick after her rabies booster and we had to put her down as a result. So I've been upset and stressed over that. And it's thrown in a tinge of homesickness to my trip.

But I was thinking about it a bit because I don't actually have a home to be homesick about. My dad is moving in a few week (before I get home) so the house I left I'll never be going back too... So I'm not really homesick for a place... I'm more Feelings-sick. 

I'm homesick for that feeling of comfort of seeing your friends or cuddling up with your dogs. 

I'm homesick for a familiar face and the feeling of being safe.

Now it's not to say I don't feel safe traveling because I do. But you just sleep a bit on edge when you're in a room with strangers. You know. And my dad hasn't been diligent at all about sending me puppy updates. My mum on the other had has been grand... But i really want to see Charles and Will.

And that doesn't even start to cover the whole missing Jameson thing. Because FaceTime is like a bandaid. It doesn't make the missing him easier it just makes it less while we're talking. After I have to hang up I'm mopey for a while. The same goes for talking with my mum or Kelly but well not as clingy missy.

I always get a bit of this thing called "homesick" when I travel. Sometimes it hits me early in a trip. Other times it makes the last week a teary mess for me. But this time it's hit me earlyish... or maybe it's already half way through my trip. I've been away for nearly 3 weeks now. Who knows if I'll make it another 3. I really don't know. My plans are all over the place and crazy and constantly changing. It's fun but at the same time... I just want to lay in bed and have a lazy day. Or walk around without pants on. Or stay up really late and write and not worry about missing breakfast. 

I'm missing a lot of the small things right now. So I'm doing my best to do what I always do and just suck it up. I'm hoping London will set me straight. I'm headed off at 6:40 tomorrow morning for my favourite city! I'll have lunch in Trafalgar and grin like an idiot. Hopefully a good dose of London will kick my feelings-sickness for a while. And if it doesn't then at least this trip isn't forever. I'll be heading home, where ever it may be, in a few weeks.

But before I can think of home I need London. It's my unhealthy addiction... Or maybe it is healthy... well either way I love London!

Cheers,

Morocco Shock

This trip I've decided to adopt an "open book" policy on my experience. Normally when I travel I internalize my shitty days and homesickness. I would only ever tell my friends about the good times I was having. Which is great and maybe inspires people to travel as well but might not help them once they get there.

I'm not going to try to sound cool about my first few days in Morocco. They were tough.  Like really fucking tough. And I don't think I read any other blog about what a shock it is.

Granted I'm a solo female and did fly into Marrakech and that city is just overwhelming. I learned to see it as a good overwhelming. But none the less it was hard.

I think my first "crisis" was brought on by the fact that I was sleep deprived. At times of almost tears in a sleep deprived state I remember my first day in Limerick and how I cried over my busted converter. Why do I recall this? To remind myself that a little sleep solves all the problems.

My "crisis" was thus. People stared at me more then I had prepared mentally for. Everyone tried to compliment my hair. My host wasn't as good with English as I thought, so my fast talking slang wasn't doing me any favours. His family didn't speak English so I felt rude and inconvenient to them,  I hate that out of place feeling. I also walked around the city that first day. Trust me tired and Marrakech don't work.

I ended up messaging my mum. I was whiny and upset and strangely homesick even though I'd been away only 5 days. She nicely put me in my place and reminded me why I had gone in the first place.

The next day I walked around with new eyes. I was trying to pick out places and settings from my favorite book series, Daughter of Smoke and Bone.  That helped quell my wacky feelings. This series is essentially why I came to Morocco. Side note it's by Laini Taylor and it's amazing so go read it!

I felt accomplished when I found my hostel in Marrakech my last night.  I did have help but I still felt good. I got on the bus at 9h00 to Merzouga and arrived at 21h00. It was a long day.

My near break down there was iver stress of not knowing how to get to my next city if Azrou. I ended up deciding I didn't give a fuck where I went next and BAM I made it to Azrou.

So lesson learned stop giving so many fucks about every little thing. I know plans change when you travel and they have in the past. This time it was just tough for me to take the different environment and plan mix ups in stride. But I'm on my last leg of Morocco! I can do this!

Cheers,
Taylor