2017

At the end of 2015, some of you remember I wrote a post about my year in review. (you can read it here.) Well, I guess when my year turned over I wasn't really interested in blogging. Or setting goals of any kind, because I didn't update anything. This year, I'm getting around to it. 

2017 has been challenging to say the least. I won't go into detail here, but I'll just say it's been real, and I'm not sad to see the year go. Don't get me wrong, it hasn't been all bad. Caleb and I have had a lot of fun this year, but I just feel like most of the year was stress. I don't know how I have hair left, to be honest. Here are some things I learned. (These are lessons I learned, but the examples do not reflect my own experiences this year. 

1) Don't settle. 

2) Don't go into debt.

3) Being generous is great. Just make sure you aren't screwing yourself over when you decide to be.

4) Adventure. Adventure. Adventure!

1) Don't settle. Not for your job. Not for the car you drive. Not for anything. And when I say don't settle for your job, I don't mean don't settle for a starting position when you think you could be a manager. If you find a starting position at the company you want to work at, take it. But don't settle for staying in that starting position. There is always room for improvement. Also, when I say not to settle for the car you drive, I don't mean go buy a Porsche you're going to default on within a month because you've always wanted a Porsche. I mean do what is going to be best for you in the long term. Which leads right into number 2..

2) Don't go into debt. If you're very good at managing your money and creating a budget, you could probably get away with this one. I did for a long time. You can put your car insurance or your utility bill on your credit card and just pay it off every month. It boosts your credit score, you can get a lot of miles on it, and it can benefit you a lot. BUT, if you let it get out of control - not just credit cards - it can eat you alive. You'll wind up like one of the millions of Americans living paycheck to paycheck just trying to stay afloat with $.37 left to their name after they've paid their bills. Just because there's $200 leftover in your budget every month doesn't mean it needs to be going towards a payment on something. Save it. Pay off debt. Get out of debt. Have 75% of your paycheck available to save and spend on whatever it is you want to buy. 

3) Being generous is great. Just make sure you aren't screwing yourself over when you decide to be. If you have some extra crap laying around you don't need and won't use, you can sell it. If it's not worth selling, or would take too much effort, you can give it to goodwill or a church. But when your friend calls and says they need $100. Make damn sure you aren't just giving them $100 because they decided to blow their grocery money on a new pair of shoes. Let them learn their lesson. Also, if you're going to buy or sell something from a friend or family member on payments - write up a contract and get it notarized. It seems petty, especially for family, but it can wind up saving you a lot of headache and resentment. Besides, if they aren't willing to sign a contract, it's either because they were planning to screw you over, or because they were planning to screw you over. Either way, they probably don't really need what you're selling, and you can probably sell it to someone else who is willing to sign for it. Don't let saving someone's feelings come back to bite you in the butt.

4) Adventure. Adventure. Adventure! This one might just be me and some of you like me. Adventure is what keeps me sane. I need a little bit of adventure in my life. I need to go camping, or go on a road trip that's just for fun. I need some "me" time. "Me" time at home taking a bath with no one talking to me is pretty great. But "me" time on a kayak in a river several hours from home is even better - even if I'm with someone. Hike a 14er. Go camping. Go on a road trip to see friends in the next state for the weekend. Get a cheap plane ticket to Las Vegas for the weekend. Take a break from work and go somewhere.

I don't usually do the whole New Years Resolution New Year New Me thing. Instead, I have a list of outlandish tasks to accomplish. In 2015 one of my goals was to fist fight a shark. It was a joke, but it just so happened that I went swimming with nurse sharks in Belize. I tapped one with my fist and claimed it as a win. Kick a pigeon was also on my list. I made contact with one in Venice, Italy. Score. Get launched from a trebuchet was also on my list for the year. Thankfully, I didn't manage that one. But those were two of my most proud moments for the year. I'm pathetic, I know. 

As exciting as it was for me to kick a pigeon and kinda punch a shark, I think I'll set some goals that are a little more realistic this year.

1) Renew my passport. - Honestly, I've been meaning to do this since Caleb and I got married. I just haven't done it yet. It's only $100, but since we don't have any international trips coming up, there hasn't been a reason to do it. I want to renew my passport so I'm one step closer to crossing a border.

2) Get. Out. Of. Debt. - I feel like this one is self-explanatory.

3) Find a profitable side hustle. - We all want some extra money. I'd like to find a side hustle good enough that I can turn it into a job after Caleb and I have kids. I don't want to be stuck doing shift work the rest of my life. I want to home school my kids, make my own schedule, and take vacations when I want. How glorious would that be?

4) Go on more adventures. - Caleb and I went camping and we did some road trips for no apparent reason other than why not. But not nearly enough for my tastes. I want to fill our summer up with random adventures and road trips. 

5) Buy a house. - I've never wanted so badly to own a house as when I'm sitting at work, scrolling through pinterest, saying, "Oh, that would be great to do in our backyard!" only to remember I don't have a backyard. Once we get some debt taken care of, I'm sure we'll be finding a house to buy.

That's about all I have for now. I wish everyone luck in achieving their own goals or new years resolutions this year. I'll be posting more throughout the year to let everyone know what goals I've met!

Starving For Oxygen

Somewhere on the way up Bierstadt.

I  know it's been a hot minute since I posted last. Update: I'm still alive. I've stopped playing Pokemon Go. I believe I've regained my true identity. 

I'm allowed to mountain bike again. While I can't do any gnarly jumps or downhill tracks until next summer, Caleb and I have been out to Oil Well Flats to ride. I actually traded my mountain bike for a rifle. Not because I'm never going to ride again. That's preposterous. But I'd actually been trying to sell my old Gary Fisher for a while and, well, it's old and none of the real enthusiasts out here wanted that old hunk. But one of Caleb's friends rode it and wanted it, so he gave me a rifle. I don't even know what kind it is. 7mm WSM? We have another mountain bike I've been riding. It's a hard tail, but since I'm only allowed to ride easy trails right now, it's perfect for me. Over the winter Caleb is going to build me a new bike from the ground up so I'll have a sick new ride come next summer when I can rip again. I know he'll make sure to build a super capable bike, so my only request is that it looks cool.

In the mean time, we've taken up the cliche' hobby of climbing 14ers.

At the top of Mt. Sherman.

I'm not 100% sure why we got into this. I think it has to do with me not being able to do anything particularly fun. I couldn't ride, run, climb, or swim, so I took up hiking while Caleb was mountain biking. Then my doctor said I should start carrying a light pack around a few times a week to deal with the sensitivity over my collarbone where I had my surgery. So of course the only logical solution is to climb one of the fifty something mountains over 14,000 ft in the state of Colorado. I think those pain meds the doc gave me must have done permanent damage, cause I actually went through with this. Caleb and I loaded up and took the dogs to Mt. Sherman one weekend.

At the top of Bierstadt, starving for oxygen.

We summitted and I was happy to never do one again. But then Caleb did another one on his own. And I volunteered to do another with him the next weekend. I don't know why. I hated ever minute of going up. Except when we stopped and I got to eat watermelon candies we brought.. Then at the top, for some reason, I thought I was having fun. I think it had to do with the lack of oxygen. For someone who is used to having a healthy supply of oxygen in their lungs, it can make you a little loopy.. And sick. And delusional enough to think you're having fun. But the view is nice, so there's that. The best part though is always getting back to the truck. The dogs get in and pass out and we roll down all the windows, and, hoping they'll have enough energy to bite anyone who tries to steal our stuff, we leave them there. And go get margaritas and beer and the biggest cheat meal we can fit in out stomachs. Because we earned it.

We've only done two mountains so far, but weather

Handies Peak, Colorado. AKA, the baby Fitz Roy.

and mechanic issues on our new jeep permitting, we're going to do another this weekend. Probably Handies. Cause it looks beautiful. And it reminds me of a really tiny version of Mt. Fitz Roy in Patagonia. And while I don't necessarily want to climb Mt. Fitz Roy, I'm going to see it first hand one day. If I ever find myself in South America, I'm going to detour to go see it. I don't care if I'm in French Ghana and I have to hitch hike and figure out a way to make money the whole way. It's gonna happen, y'all.

Mt. Fitz Roy, Chile-Argentina border, Patagonia.

 Anyway. That's all I really have for now. I'll post again next time I pick up a new hobby, break a bone, or win the lottery.

March 13th.

On 13 March 2015 some of you will recall I was on Belize's island of Caye Caulker with my friend Dave. It was my very first trip outside the United States, and it proved to be quite eventful. It was a Friday the 13th, the power and running water were out for the whole island. We went snorkeling where I swallowed my fear of open water (and a lot of ocean water). Then I drank a few too many beers to dilute the saltwater, and with the reassurance of Dave and Seb, a British fellow we met at The Split, dove into the ocean to swim the 100 meter split and back. While a storm rolled in. And I nearly drowned in the ocean.

Belize was probably the best trip of my life. I'd been wanting for as long as I could remember to just drop everything on a moment's notice and take a flight to anywhere outside the U.S. and go for an adventure. I may have had a twenty-four hour notice, but it satisfied my need just fine. Much better, in fact, than the month long solo tour in Europe. Because, while my plane ticket to Spain was a one-way ticket, I bought it six weeks in advance. It was like biting into a bitter piece of candy. I loved it, but it wasn't nearly as awesome as sitting on a dock in the Caribbean knowing that only twenty-four hours prior, I'd had no plans to leave the states. It was liberating and I wouldn't trade that experience for any other.

If, while I was sitting on that dock, someone had told me I would be getting married in a year, I wouldn't have believed them. If they showed me some sort of proof, I probably would have cried. At that point in my life nothing sounded better than being single for the rest of my life. The very thought of a relationship almost made me gag. Marriage, for me, has pretty much always sounded like a trap. It was as if, at the wedding ceremony, the priest who married you sucked all the fun out of your life and brain washed you. You began as this fun-loving, adventure having, spontaneous person and were magically transformed into just another suburbian with a white picket fence and HOA fees. You stopped traveling, skydiving, mountain biking, and basically anything else awesome and started mowing the yard on Saturdays and taking long Sunday naps.

Thank God that's not true. I mean, it could be. We haven't had our wedding ceremony yet. The Chaplain very well might put a curse on us and turn us into normal-ass people. But so far, Caleb and I have done quite well to keep adventure a regular part of our lives. We rock climb, ride dirt bikes, go hiking and camping, and even have plans to drive the Pan American in our truck. With the dirt bikes, of course. I'm convinced there's nothing the Chaplain can say on 13 March 2016 that will change the person I was on 13 March 2015 except that I'll be married and I'll have a reliable partner in my adventures. Someone I know is as strong and capable as he is intelligent and adventurous. In two weeks I'll go from being a solo traveler who wakes up and says, "I think I'm going to fly to Ireland today" to someone who, over dinner, says, "Hey, wanna drive to Red Rocks in Vegas next weekend to climb?" or, "Let's go to Germany." And while we may have to limit our overseas travels while we're tied to the Army, that's a sacrifice I'm willing to make so I can keep this guy around.

Moral of the story, marriage isn't a trap (probably). Having kids is a whole different story though. Having kids is definitely a trap. Use birth control.

I'll Have A Day On The Rocks, Please.

In my last post, I mentioned that I'd taken up rock climbing since I moved to Colorado, but I didn't really say anything else about it. That's because I'm basically in love with rock climbing and it deserves its very own post.

You may remember when I went to AZ with Leo, he took me on my first rock climbing adventure. My second climbing venture happened on my trip to Italy. While I was there I met a complete stranger off of tinder who offered to take me climbing. Of course, everyone in Italy then was a complete stranger. But this one was an American stationed in Vicenza. So I met him at the train station with my shoes, a beaner, my ATC, and enough webbing to make a harness (because that's all the rock climbing gear I took on my backpacking trip), jumped in his car, and let him drive me to a whole other city half an hour away. Yes, I recognize the safety concerns involved in this endeavor, but you know what? I'm still here. And I got to go rock climbing. And I made an awesome friend that day! Paul, who I still talk to, took me to Lugminano and explained how it had been one of the biggest rock climbing places in Italy back in the 80's. It was probably a class 3 hike in, but there were soooo many routes! Paul didn't know what the names of the routes were, or what they were graded at (they use a different grading system in Europe than we do here in the states, anyway) but it was fun!

Climbing in Lugminano, Italy. Paul let me borrow his harness!

That day I basically decided when I came back to the states I was going to go learn to climb somewhere.. I initially thought I was going to buy a beat up old van or something and drive it to red rocks just outside of Vegas and just camp out and climb for a few months. Obviously, that's not what happened. And I'm glad it didn't. I really like frequent showers.

When I moved most of my things up here to Colorado in May, I wasted exactly zero time. I was only here for a week before I was to start my road trip to the North East, pretty much only owned what I'd had in Italy plus a harness (climbing in a Swiss seat made from webbing is never fun), I had no idea what I was actually doing, didn't know anyone in the area who climbed, and I had a severely pulled bicep tendon that was still healing. None of those seemed like good reasons to not go climbing. It took me all of two days in Colorado before I found a random person on facebook with enough experience to teach myself and my new roommate the climbing basics. Again, I met two complete stranger in a parking lot at some ungodly early hour and drove off into the mountains with them. Except this time with my roommate. I have yet to regret a spontaneous adventure, and I'm quite glad I took this one.

My roommate and I, climbing at Clear Creek.

I learned the basics of climbing that day, and since I got back from my road trip, I've gone on several climbing ventures. In the last two months I've gone from someone who didn't know what cleaning was to climbing a multi-pitch called "Lost in the Jungle," leading and cleaning routes up to 5.9s, and just last week I climbed a 5.10C called "Via Comatose Amigo." To say that I'm in love with this sport would be putting it mildly. My goal is to be able to lead a 5.11 by the end of the year, and perhaps one day do a climbing competition. Which makes me wonder why I'm sitting on my couch right now instead of climbing... I should do something about that.

Making my way up Via Comatose Amigo - A 5.10C

Since I've Been Gone..

Ok, so it's been a few minutes since my last post, so here's what's been happening. I came back to the states, took up photography, bought an old beat up VW Passat wagon, drove it around the northeast for a month, went to the West Point graduation, did New York City up right, ate at the Chegg on Long Beach Island in New Jersey with my body builder buddies, hiked on the Appalachian Trail, moved to Denver, CO, somehow got a part-time job as a mechanic, a full-time job as a police Dispatcher, and have taken up rock climbing. It's been an adventure to say the least. Here's the highlights...

When I graduated high school, I applied to West Point. Like so many others, I wasn't offered an appointment. I was, however, offered a scholarship from West Point's Association of Graduates to attend Marion Military Institute for a year. If I performed well there, I was all but guaranteed an appointment to West Point the following year. While I was at MMI, I decided West Point wasn't the route I wanted to take to get my commission, but I made some awesome friends - many of whom went on to graduate West Point in May. I was fortunate enough to be invited to stay with Lt. Col. Charles Faint and his family on base during graduation week. I really can't say enough about what awesome hosts they were. Or how nice it was to be on base instead of having to drive there every day. And having Charlie and his wife Lilla give me directions so I didn't wind up completely and utterly lost.

West Point Graduation Parade

The graduation was, well, a military graduation. Efficient. General Dempsey was the honored speaker, and he sang (and made the graduates sing) "New York, New York." Aside from his little Sinatra piece, the General actually laid out some real words of wisdom. I'd love to have lunch with that man.

My roommate from MMI, Chelsea Kay graduated that day, and was commissioned by none other than the Superintendent, General Robert Caslen. How she got the Sup to pin her, I don't know, but she did. It was really cool to get to attend her commissioning in the Sup's garden, away from the hustle and bustle of the rest of the school. It also gave me a kick in the ass. I didn't attend West Point, but I finished college and did my short stint of travels. And here was Kay, kicking my ass and getting her commission first. So now I have no choice but to get mine and catch up with her.

Chelsey Kay, the new butter bar

After I saw Kay off, I made a B-line for New York City. As fate would have it, I discovered that I wasn't the only old cadet from MMI who attended the graduation and was spending the next couple of days in the Big Apple. My old platoon leader from MMI, Roderick Bonner was also in town. We spent the next day sight seeing and tasting all the local cuisines... And by the local cuisines, what I really mean is hot dogs from street carts and the occasional piece of pizza.

The 9-11 memorial on Memorial Day

After NYC, my plans to see a friend in upstate fell through when he had to skip town for work. So I spent a night in the Catskills camping out of my car and hiking. As uneventful as a story as this is, I mostly just want a reason to post this picture..

The sunset where I camped.

My next stop was New Jersey. I was genuinely surprised when not one single gas station I pulled up to was self-serve. Apparently, there's a law in Jersey against people pumping their own gas. No, seriously. Every gas station has attendants to pump your gas for you... I spent the next few days trying to find a balance between not eating too much, and looking like a bird at every meal... Meals, of course, where every few hours. Because I was with Pat the body builder and his body builder buddies. Who only stop eating to work out and sleep. I ate with them, I worked out with them (although we pretended not to know each other in the gym. I'm not leg pressing any cars anytime soon), and I slept in Pat's house. And Pat made sure I got to do the tourist stuff like buy a lighter from Ron Jon's, check out the famous people's houses, and drive the length of Long Beach Island. He's a pretty cool guy when he's not busy trying to date my sister.

The traditional beach pic.

Pat on his third round of wings at the Chegg.

The next stop I made really should have a post all its own, but for the sake of catching up, I'm just going to give it this short piece. That, and I really want to go to sleep.

Becky Lessner and I have been best friends since we both ran on the Point Park Cross Country team in 2012. We decided while I was still in Spain that we were going to do part of the Appalachian Trail. Becky wanted to do the portion up in Maine, but we really didn't have the time to get up there and back, so we opted for a piece out of the middle of the trail. On the first of June we bailed out of our beds at the hostel in Harper's Ferry and got ready to go. It was raining, but we were super prepared. We donned our rain jackets and set out into the 75 degree morning. It was uncharacteristically cold considering it had been well over 80 for the last couple of weeks. We made it about an hour before we realized the temperature wasn't getting higher - it was only getting lower. I'd packed for this trip almost three weeks ago, and I certainly wasn't prepared for this. I had a single pair of pants, a pair of shorts, two shirts, and a rain jacket I'd borrowed from Becky. About twelve miles in we made it to a cabin for hikers and started getting comfortable. We'd taken our hammocks to sleep in and no sleepingbags because, well, it was supposed to be in the 80's and 90's and only getting down to 70 at night. The temperature kept dropping and I was tired of being cold and wet. One of the other hikers on the trail (Over Forty was his trail name), exasperated, expressed how he wished we could start a fire in the furnace in the cabin. "Furnace?! Fire?!" My posture perked like a dog being told to sit for its favorite treat. "Yeah," Over Forty said, "there's a furnace in here, but there's no dry wood." I made my way into the cabin and snatched three dry pieces of wood out of the pile. "Y'all go get wood. We're making a fire." Everybody started bringing me wood. Small stuff at first, and then bigger pieces. One of the fellows there just kept repeating how we would never get a fire going because the wood was too wet. He quit bringing in wood after his second time out, complaining that he was cold. With a paper towel, a couple of dry sticks, and going light headed from blowing on the flames so much, I kept our furnace hot until three in the morning. Over Forty officially named me Draco Fire Starter. So there's one more nickname I have to keep up with. Becky and I ditched our hammocks and took a bunk in the cabin. Around four in the morning we were both freezing our asses off in shorts, all of our t-shirts, our rain jackets, and our hammocks and my microfiber towel for blankets. When you're cold and water logged, even the extra body heat from spooning doesn't keep you warm enough to sleep. We both threw in the towel like the pansies we are, stuffed breakfast down our throats, gave our extra food to the other hikers, and headed back towards Harper's Ferry.

Just after the rain let up.

We were certain velociraptors were going to jump out at any moment.

This is as clear as the weather got for us.

After we finished on the trail, I made a B-line for Nashville to crash at my sister's house. I hadn't slept at all in the cabin, had walked well over twenty-four miles in the mountains in the last two days, and drove eight more hours to make it to Nashville. I don't even remember if I saw my niece and nephew off to bed. All I really remember is that I forced myself to take a shower before I drug myself to my bed. Then I got up ungodly early and drove another eight hours back to Arkansas to gather the rest of my belongings, change my oil, and move to Denver.

Ireland: Carrick-a-rede Bridge and Giant's Causeway

Carrick-a-rede Bridge

Ever since the first time I saw pictures of the Carrick-a-rede bridge several years ago, I've wanted to cross it. When I found out Paddywagon did a tour with a stop there, I had to go. I didn't even care that it wasn't the main attraction, which was the Giant's Causeway, I bought a ticket right there. I didn't even care about going to the causeway, honestly. I boarded my bus around 8 in the morning in Dublin and patiently awaited my destiny. 

On the way there, we stopped at some cool trees that were supposedly used in filming some portion of the Game of Thrones. I'll be honest, they were pretty cool. It was at that stop that I realized two things. First, it was snowing. Second, the wind was blowing. Like a lot. When we got back on the bus, our driver crushed my soul with a single sentence, "the carrick-a-rede bridge is closed due to high winds, so we aren't going to be able to cross it." Thanks, wind! 

We did still go to the bridge though. It's a little over half a mile from the gift shop to the bridge and most people on the tour bus opted to have a nice cup of hot chocolate at the restaurant in the gift shop instead of making the trip. I, however, was not missing this opportunity. I said screw the wind! and started walking. The wind was so high that I was pretty sure I was going to turn into a human kite and fly into the ocean a couple times. I'm really glad nobody had any children there. 

On my way out to the bridge, it actually started sleeting! Then a fellow coming the other way stopped me and said, "be careful, there's a wall of rain coming this way!" And pointed behind me. When I looked and saw the downpour headed for me, I just laughed and said to myself, the only thing that could make this any better is if the wind actually threw me into the ocean!! Then I promptly knocked on the wooden fence along the trail, cause nobody needs that bad ju ju. About that time I found an older British lady who was just as determined as I was and we did our best to act as paperweights for each other for the rest of the hike. 

At the bridge a stout gentleman there saw my complete lack of qualifications in the area of paper weighting 100 pound old ladies in 60 mph winds, and took over for me. Since the half mile trek back was into the wind, I had to grabbed my coat hood from the inside with one hand and pulled it down over my face because the wind was making my eyes tear up. Then I ran. Or tried to. In normal conditions, the pace I was setting would have been a steady 7:30 mile, but I'm pretty sure that's how long it took me to make it the half mile back to the gift shop. 

I may not have gotten to cross the bridge, but I'm pretty happy with having to gotten see it. Plus, it costs money to cross the bridge, and I didn't have to pay! And there were no crowds!! What more can you ask for?

Giant's Causeway

The Giant's Causeway was the next stop after the carrick-a-rede bridge. I'm told that on a clear day you can see Scotland from there. I kinda had to laugh at the thought of a clear day in Ireland, cause I didn't see one the whole week that I was there. 

It was still insanely windy and cold, so I paid the 2£ to ride the shuttle down to the causeway from the visitor center instead of taking the "15 minute hike" to the bottom. There was a lady at the bottom with an infant. Woman was nuts, but must have incredible grip strength cause the wind was measured at 60mph with higher gusts. I won't lie, I was thoroughly unimpressed with the hexagonal rocks. What did impress me though, was when I let myself fall into the wind and it actually held me up! I did that for as long as I could stand the cold and got some foreigner to get a photo of me. Then I paid attention to the rocks.. There was some kind of officer there making sure no one climbed on the rocks, but while someone else was distracting him, I grabbed a guy from Minnesota, gave him my phone, asked him to get a picture for me, and climbed the rocks. 

 

As soon as the next shuttle came around, I jumped back on and rode to the top. There wasn't much to hold my attention in the huge visitors center though, so I did what I do best. I found food. There was a restaurant in the visitors center, but who wants to eat at a visitors center? There's a tiny little restaurant just down the hill that looks more like a cottage. They had a bar and a few open fires. I grabbed a seat next to the fire and had what will probably the best soup and sandwhich combo I'll ever have. And a hard cider. I'm pretty sure I'll never be satisfied by food in the United States again. 

I doubt I'll ever pay that much for soup and a sandwhich ever agin either though. Since  Northern Ireland is technically still a part of the UK, they don't use the Euro, they use the pound. So the 12£ i paid for my meal seemed fairly reasonable. Until I did the math and realized I had just paid about $25.. I still probably should have gotten another cider though. The one wasn't enough to keep me warm for long after I stepped outside. 

Ireland

To anyone who is wanting to travel to Ireland, I have a few pieces of advice for you. First things first; once you land, leave Dublin. It's not a bad city, and there's some cool history there, but in comparison to places like Belfast and Cork and the countryside.. It just doesn't compare. Second, drive around the north. I, unfortunately, didn't get to do that. I tried to rent a car in advance, and Avis' website says they can rent to those under twenty-five, but that was a lie. They did give me a refund though, so that was nice.. I spent the first few days in the south, and while I enjoyed it, my final day in the north was more scenic. In the north the hills roll on for miles a little more fluidly than they do in the south. The mountains are even prettier. It is colder though, so bring a coat. They consider 26C (78F) sweltering heat, so if you're from the south like me, just plan on being cold.

Third, pack a rain coat or an umbrella. Preferably both. Most of the time it's cloudy and drizzly.. And when it's not.. One minute you can see the blue sky there promising you a glorious day under the sun, and the next there's a tempest blowing through. The locals all said that's pretty much an all year round thing. 

If you are going to drive through Ireland, be prepared for some changes. Like EVERYTHING IS BACKWARDS. In my head, I knew they drove on the wrong side of the road and the steering wheel was on the wrong side and the Irish just generally do things involving transportation wrong, but it still messed with me. When I went to get on the bus at the airport, I immediately felt dyslexic. Imagine my surprise when I suddenly looked up from my phone and realized that we were turning into the wrong lane. Yeah, I shit a brick. About twice a day every day. Also, in the cities I think there's more one way streets than there are two-ways. And being a pedestrian trying to figure out which way to look was almost impossible. Thankfully, the Irish have gotten one thing right. On the ground at just about every crosswalk in Dublin it says "<- look left" or "look right ->." That was pretty awesome. 

Do the tourist things. Ireland is gorgeous and if I could (and it was warmer), I would probably rent a car and explore it for a month. But since I didn't have that option, I used the paddy wagon tour company and rode their tour busses all over the place. The tour guides were pretty cool, and they stop at a lot of interesting places. Like the Blarney castle. Yeah, I kissed the stone. I'm really eloquent and have the gift of flattering speech now, could you tell? If I had planned better and wasn't so cheap, I probably would have done their nine day tour. But I am not a big planner and I'm a cheapskate. 

           One last weird thing that I've realized is pretty much the same all across Europe; in a multi story building, the ground floor is floor zero. And you might be on floor three, but have room fifty-one. I swear they do that just so they can watch Americans walk in circles sometimes. 

Overall though I found the Irish people to be very friendly and welcoming. Weirdly enough, I heard a lot of other languages just walking around in downtown Dublin. I mean, virtually everyone speaks English, but other pedestrians talk in several languages. I heard Slavic languages, Arabic, Celtic, Spanish, some Asian languages and several others I couldn't identify. It was really interesting. Overall though, everyone seemed pretty friendly, and even though I stayed in the slums, it didn't feel that sketchy.

          Oh yeah. If you're a cider person, have some Bulmers. It puts everything I've had in the states to shame. Of course there's also the Old Jameson Distillery and the Guinness brewery in Dublin. They were, of course, packed with Americans. 

Withdrawals

At the end of 2014, I reflected on the last year and made a list of things I had learned. Two of those items have stuck out to me the most over the last few weeks of traveling. The first, number five on that list, is that regular adventures are necessary to my overall happiness. I'd say that I've been having some pretty good adventures this year. I went on a road trip and did a couple of what Outside magazine calls the world's most dangerous hikes. I experienced Las Vegas for the first of what I'm sure will be many times. I visited Oklahoma in the snow, and beat a winter storm home from Nashville after a great few days in Tennessee with friends and family. I made my first trip out of the country and got to spend a weekend on Caye Caulker in Belize, and I'm finally living my dream of backpacking Europe. And it's only March.

The next item on that same reflective list, number six, is where the issue begins. Number six said that having a meaningful purpose is just as important to my happiness as having adventures is. Over the last few months, I have completely forgotten about number six. Throughout my entire life, I have had a plan and a goal to strive for. All through high school my goal was to attend West Point. I didn't get in the first time I applied, but I got a scholarship from West Point's Association of Graduates to attend Marion Military Institute. After my first semester at MMI, my purpose changed from West Point to the Intelligence Community. Over the next two years I worked tirelessly in both "real" work and my academics to propel myself into a career in the community. After I had to return to the University of Arkansas from Pennsylvania, I lost a lot of my motivation, but continued on with unparalleled determination. During my last semester at the U of A, my motivation and determination for anything but adventures vanished. I put $2,000 and my passport in my school bag and consistently thought about leaving. I was and still am completely burnt out on that direction in my life, though I plan on returning to it later. But now that college is finished and I've started towards my personal legend, I'm having trouble finding a meaningful purpose.

I know I need this break from the "real world" to gain some perspective and renew my focus, but that hardly feels like a meaningful purpose to me. I have always enjoyed being altruistic and helping people, but it's difficult to find people to help in a place where I'm the expat. If anyone needs help, it's me - which is something that has never sat well with me. So while I may be traveling and having a great time over the next several months, I'm convinced that, for me, this trip would be more fulfilling if I had a meaningful job to do. I know I won't be satisfied if I go home just yet though, so I'll continue to search for my purpose in this world as I scour the globe for adventure. 

Spain

Before I even begin this post, there's one myth I'd like to debunk about Europe right now. 

Myth: Pretty much everyone in Europe under the age of thirty five speaks English. (I can't tell you how many places I've read this, or how many people have told me this. My German teacher told me it was pointless to learn German because everyone there spoke fluent English)

Fact: While most people can play charades and know enough English for you to order food, it's probably best if you just assume they don't speak any English and learn some Spanish. If not as a necessety, then at least as a courtesy. 

I was expecting to have to play charades with people, but I guess the reality of that didn't sink in until I was trying to order food off a Spanish menu. Not that I was asking questions about it. I don't care what I eat as long as it's edible. I literally have just been pointing at stuff or playing eeny-meeny-miney-mo with the numbers, but asking for directions, or how much the bill is is just.. Well, it's not English. Considering this is the first time I've ever been anywhere that they don't speak English as one of the main languages, I'd say I'm doing quite well. I'm also pretty glad that they speak Spanish instead of Czech, because I can at least ask for sangria, beer, and the bathroom in Spanish. Which is a surprise when you take into account the fact that I've never studied Spanish. I can still barely count to ten correctly. I have a much better handle on German than I do Spanish, and I could actually get around in Jordan since I studied Arabic in both high school and college.. A lot of good that's doing me in Spain. Am I surprised at people here not knowing English? Not at all. Would life be much easier if I knew more than how to order booze? Yes. 

Since Saturday my friend Dave and I have been driving around Northern Spain. I'm finding it hard to believe that there are places in the world more beautiful than this, but I can't wait to find them. I have what could be considered an unhealthy obsession with mountains, and Northern Spain has put every mountain I've seen in the states to absolute shame. If you only have a few days in the country and you like good scenery, there would be no better waste of time than to rent a car and drive around the northern coast. Bilbao, Gijon, Segovia, and Oviedo all have breathtaking scenery on the routes to get there. The cities aren't half bad either! 

One thing you'll probably notice about Spain on a road trip through (or even just visiting the cities) is how clean it is. When I say clean, I'm not just talking clean like the main streets of Pittsburgh type of clean, where there's some trash but it's not quite overwhelming you. I'm talking clean as in you're driving through a tiny old town where buildings are falling apart, but you still can't find any trash anywhere. The type of clean where you're pretty sure you're in the slums, but you can't even find a cigarette butt on the side walk to affirm your speculations. It's the type of clean that makes you think, man... Americans are fucking dirty!

While you're stopped in a city somewhere, go in for a drink. It doesn't matter what time of day it is. Eight in the morning. Noon. Three. Seven. Midnight. Sit down and have a drink. Then, have some tapas. Apparently, the Spanish invented this idea, and I don't know if I can continue my life without tapas whenever I go for a drink now. Tapas are just finger foods. They bring you a drink, and they bring you some tapas. It could be some type of biscuit, fish, or whatever. I had some today that was almost like quiche. I honestly don't know why this isn't popular in the states. The night before I left for this trip, a friend and I were having drinks at an actual restaurant and we wanted finger foods. They had no menu and no appetizers to offer at the bar. At least give me a vending machine to hold me over until I crave America's drunk food - Waffle House! I think I might start a protest when I get back. 

The last thing I think I've noticed about this incredibly beautiful country, is how weird the road system works. First off, it's expensive. Renting a car isn't a big deal, but petrol and diesel are both almost 2€/liter. To add to that, road tolls are insane! In the states, we have a couple rolls of quarters to get us through the tolls anywhere. Not here! One toll booth we went through was over 17€! That was just one. In the states, if you take the wrong exit and have to hop back on the freeway and pay the toll, it's maybe a $5 mistake. Imagine making a $30 mistake. Or getting off to fuel up and paying the same in tolls as you just put in your car. No. Thanks. And in cities, be careful where you walk. In the states we very clearly separate our roads from our sidewalks. Not so in the cities here. We were doing a walking tour of Madrid and were casually strolling between buildings when a car drove right through the crowd. In downtown areas, the streets and sidewalks become one... Don't get run over. 

Caye Caulker, Belize.

0720 Wednesday 11 Mar 2015

Dave: "Too bad you have your party Friday night, cheap tickets to Belize for the weekend! You could test out your gear!" 

1920 Thursday 12 Mar 2015

Sitting at the Split on Caye Caulker (pronounced Key caulk-uh) in Belize. 

I've had friends tell me that the week before leaving for my first trip overseas I would be sick with anxiety. The fact that I had less than 24 hours to prepare for this hop to Belize probably helped with that. I wasn't anxious about the trip itself, I was anxious that we wouldn't get on our flights since we were flying standby. I'll be honest, I needed this trip a lot. I don't cope well with boredom, so this was the perfect getaway. And to those of you who had been planning on making it to my going away party, I'm sorry I missed you, but if I get back tonight we can try again. 

Belize was my first trip outside of the United States, and I didn't have a clue about the country.. Or customs processes or anything of that sort. I do know that when we were on approach to land I caught a glimpse of the jungle, and I'll definitely be going back to peruse through there and hopefully make it to some ruins! Once we landed, much to my surprise, everything in Belize was written in English. The taxi driver that took us and an American couple to the water taxi said that everyone in Belize learns English from day one. They speak Creole, but since it isn't a written language, they read and write in English because Belize is a British colony. As a result, most people, especially around the touristy spots, speak pretty good English. 

Once we finally got to Caye Caulker we met a guy who was the cousin of our Air BNB hosts, Rosie and Basilo, and he gave us a ride to the apartment we rented. I honestly would have preferred to have stayed in a hostel, but they were all booked. But! If anyone wants to grab a clean two bedroom apartment with a deck, full kitchen and living room with hot running water, check out Axios Sun with the Blue Sky Apartments. It was a nice place, and they have an adorable puppy that stays in their yard downstairs from where the apartment is. 

After we dropped off our stuff we changed and headed straight for the split. A few decades ago fisherman made a small canal through the island so they didn't have to go all the way around. Over the years with hurricanes and a strong steady current, the canal eroded and got bigger and deeper until it finally turned into what it is today. I wouldn't trust my eye on the distance too much, but my guess is that it's about thirty meters across. And you can definitely see the current through there. We chilled out and had a Belikin (the only beer they offer on the island, since it's brewed in Belize City) on the dock at the bar while the sun went down. That bar is basically the bar on the island. There were a ton of travelers hanging out there and we met a few cool people. Also, while we were sitting on the dock we saw some weird sights. At least, they were weird for me since I'm not really a water or beach person. There was some kind of huge fish that kept leaping out of the water to eat stuff, and some kind of bioluminescent snake swimming around. The tour guide we talked to later said it was probably algae, but I'm pretty sure it wasn't. That thing was definitely swimming. 

Later we went to have dinner and while we were waiting on our food to arrive the power went out. And stayed out. It didn't really matter though because all the stoves there run off natural gas, so we still got our food and ate by candle light. Apparently, the power on the island isn't the most reliable thing in the world, but the locals told us that it's usually only one end of the island that goes out at a time and only for a short time, and they usually still have running water when it goes out. There was intermittent running water and the power stayed out most of the next day. After the power went out you could see every star in the sky. They were everywhere and it was awesome! I love the stars. I can only spot Orion's Belt, and idk crap about any other constellations, but I love to look at them. 

If you're an early riser, there's not a better scene on the whole island than the sunrise. I went and checked it out, then went for a run and made it around the whole island. It's really not very big. The southern end of the island is more secluded, which is neither good nor bad in this place. It probably only takes an hour and a half to walk around the whole island. There's a little forest nature reserve that is unfortunately filled with trash near the ocean. I can honestly say that I never gave pollution much of a thought before seeing that. I've always made it a point not to litter, but after that, I think I might kick someone if I catch them doing it.

There are a ton of stray dogs on the island but they're all pretty friendly. If you're really missing your own dog, you can go to the pet shelter that takes in some strays and mistreated dogs and rent one for the day. It's free and they give you whatever dog you want to take for a walk or a run around the island. Kind of neat if you ask me. 

Dave and I did a half day snorkeling tour. It only cost $35 US, so it was pretty cheap! For those of you who don't know, I have a healthy fear of the open water. I was almost ready to vomit when our guide finally anchored the boat and told us to hop in the water and swim with the nurse sharks. Once I got in, I was fine. Our guide chummed the water and about 10 nurse sharks swam around and we got to pet them. And some manta rays. The Rays are like the cats of the ocean. You'll be standing around and they'll just swim right up and rub on you. Kinda scared the shit out of me the first couple times they did it. Our guide Juan told us that the biggest Ray out there us named Steve after Steve Irwin. We decided not to get kayaks to paddle around the ocean and went to the split instead. I chatted it up with a British fellow named Sebastien for a while. There were some dark clouds starting to move in, but they were at least as far as the reef. I asked Dave and Seb if they thought I could swim the split and back before the storm got there. They both assured me that it was plenty far away.. They were wrong. I dove off the dock and made it to the other side in no time. I didn't realize that the current was helping me out a little bit. I walked up the deep shoreline back to the east to try and counteract the current that I thought was only flowing west. It took everything out of me to get halfway back across the split against the current. When I realized that I was pretty much spent and only halfway there the thought of being swept out to sea (and in a tempest no less) gave me a new fervor and I switched from freestyle to the side stroke. Since the current was flowing west, it would have been ideal to be facing east for this part of the swim so I swam more up the current and didn't pass the dock. But the storm was getting close and the small waves I hadn't even noticed before were throwing tons of water into my eyes and mouth, so I turned around. Then about fifteen feet from the dock the rain started pelting me and the wind was blowing harder. I did finally make it to the dock, but the stairs to get up were a good forty feet up current. An older American man had apparently seen me and came over to pull me up from the water. Thank God for him. He said that he had gotten stuck out in the middle of the split a few days prior and a local had had to come save him. Apparently, they're used to less than intelligent travelers who think they're good swimmers. By the time we made it five feet inland the real rain began. It absolutely poured and a few kayakers got stuck out in it. They were on the west side of the island though, so they didn't have to fight with the current. Still, I was quite glad that we decided not to rent kayaks to go to crocodile alley. 

It was a short trip, but it was much needed and we met some pretty cool people. I can't wait until I get to Europe and get to meet a lot more folks! I'll have to make it home first though. Since im flying standby and separately from Dave, I may wind up spending the night in the airport tonight. As long as I make it home in enough time to get to the other airport to go to Spain, I'll be happy. 

Traveler tip: Money. Make sure you get plenty of cash (US or Belize, they will take both) as soon as you land or when you get to the island. I waited a little too long to get any, and Dave wound up having to pay for more than one of my meals because I kept running out. Most places can take a card, but not when the power is out! Everywhere that takes cash will take US dollars, but I want to accrue pirate money from everywhere I go. Note that prices are all posted with a $, but it's Belize dollars. Since Belize currency is pegged to US currency, it will always be exactly half of the price you see. So if it's $70 BZE to do a snorkeling trip, it's only $35 US. 

Traveler tip: Food. Honestly, everything here is pretty good! I suggest trying conch at least once in any form that it comes in. The seafood is fresh, and there's a pretty good selection at a lot of places. If you want hookah or top shelf liquor, the only place to get it is at the Hookah bar and restaurant. They also have a little dance floor where you can rave out until late at night. It's a little yellow building kind north of "town" but probably at least 100 yards south of the split. Don't eat the food there though. I like middle eastern food, but theirs was anything but tasty. 

Traveler tip: Timing. One thing I noticed about Belize (and Dave says a lot of the world is like this) is that nothing happens on time. The $25us taxi from the airport to the water taxi sped and wove through traffic. But from that point on, everything was slow. The water taxi didn't load until ten minutes after it was supposed to leave. Once we got to the island we were quickly informed that Caye Caulker is "the go slow island" and we needed to not be in a hurry. Your food will take forever to be prepared, so find someone to have a good conversation with. You won't be on time, but you'll get to where you're going. If you look like you're in a hurry, the locals will talk at you from their kiosks along the road, "why are you in a hurry? Slow down." That was really difficult for me seeing as I consider myself late if I'm less than fifteen minutes early, and if I'm running an errand, I always do it as quickly as I can. It was nice to slow down though. While you're on vacation here, just chill out. 

The Packout

I tried for a while (ok, five minutes tops) to find a comprehensive packing list for backpacking Europe AND camping while staying lightweight. My efforts were (unsurprisingly) met with disappointment. So I made one up myself. Considering I've never really backpacked, and I carried entirely too much shit when I did search and rescue, this might turn out to be a disaster. I'm not afraid to experiment. I'll let you know if on my way I figure out that I should have left half that crap at home, or really shouldn't have left some things. So here's what I've got..

Honestly, probably too much crap. I'm too inept and lazy to put little numbers on all the items to tell you what they are, but here's what you're looking at.
My backpack is a small, Gregory Cairn 48L backpack. I chose it because it fits my body type best and I would rather downsize to next to nothing rather than pack too much crap and be miserable carrying around 60lbs. It has top and side access, and plenty of pockets. It's also got a little rain cover to boot. I'm quite certain I'll be needing that.
I've got a pair of jeans, a pair of cargo pants, running shorts, and a pair of thin Patagonia cargo type shorts. I've also got 4 shirts, one of which is a Khul collard shirt that shouldn't really wrinkle or smell too bad, even if I do wear it for a few days straight.. (I will probably stink, but the shirt should be ok). And then there's undies and a bathing suit. All of that is in those blue, red, and green packing cubes you see. I'll be wearing at least one of those outfits at all time (I presume), so the cubes should be significantly smaller. At least when I'm wearing the pants.. I also have a light weight rain jacket for those shitty days when I get stuck out in the middle of a tempest, because if it's going to happen to anyone, it's gonna happen to me. I'm only taking one pair of tennis shoes that should be on my feet pretty much the whole time. They're Nike frees and I love them. I've been told to take hiking shoes instead or in addition, but in all honesty, I know me. I wouldn't wear them. I'm too damn stubborn for that. They dry pretty quickly and the tread is at least half way decent since they're new. Fingers crossed that I won't regret this decision.
I managed to fit my climbing shoes, harness, ATC, carabiner, leather glove, and whatever that long piece of multipurpose webbing is called into my bag as well. I plan on figuring out some way to hook up with some folks who are climbing and swing on their ropes with them. Honestly, if I don't get the chance to climb something, I'll be pissed. Those take up a lot of room and add a lot of weight. Obviously, this isn't a set of items most people would carry.
I've also got a sleeping bag liner from Sea to Summit. My mother wanted me to take a set of sheets for hostels. Let me tell you something. A set of sheets is huge, and I'm not one to put sheets on a bed to stay for one or two nights anyway. When I went to Marion Military Institute, I slept on top of my covers with a contraband blanket so I didn't have to make my bed every morning. I'll also note that every time the Col. inspected the female barracks, my room was always used as the standard. If you ain't cheatin, you ain't tryin! Anyway. I got the thermolite reactor extreme as a compromise. It's supposed to add up to 25C to a sleeping bag, so it should be plenty warm in a hostel, and it should also work pretty well for when I wind up camping. I've also got a small "tarp" I usually use when camp in my hammock to sleep under or on for when it rains.. because that will happen to me.
In my "camping" gear I've got 50' of paracord, a headlamp, batteries, some s-biners, a spork with weird little tools on it, water purifiers, and a little water bottle that rolls up when you're not using it so it takes up very little room. It's also got it's own little clasp for when you are using it so you can hang it on your pack. I've also got one of those flint/phosphorous blocks and some pansy little fire starter sticks. Why? Because I'm lazy and in addition to being tiny, they're virtually weightless. So why not? Since I'm carrying my backpack on instead of checking it, I'll have to buy both a pocket knife/multitool and a lighter once I get there.
In a little dry bag, I have all my electronic cords and converters as well as some benadryl, ibuprofen, and Tylenol. And headphones for train/plane rides. There's also a small first aid kit that has gauze, antibiotic ointment, vet wrap, and super glue and yes, I have a tourniquet. I can make one with a stick and a bit of cloth, but again, I'm lazy. In fact, I'll probably prove to be too lazy to even use it on myself if I need it. Fingers crossed that I don't need any of it.
I have a Sea to Summit antimicrobial dry lite microtowel. I got the XL so I can use it as a bath towel and run from a shower to a room without showing off my assets. I doubt I'll wind up in that position, but oh well.
The Gregory Cairn 48 has a sleeve for a camelbak bladder, so I took mine out of the camelbak I usually use to go mountain biking and stuffed it in there.
The toiletry bag seems a little obvious if you ask me. I've got another Sea to Summit microlite antimicrobial towel in there to use as a washcloth. I got the XS and cut it in half. I got it instead of a regular washcloth because it will dry much faster and I don't have to worry about it souring in my bag and making everything stink. Let's be honest, I'll probably smell bad enough as it is. If you don't know what else belongs in a toiletry bag, you probably shouldn't be backpacking without adult supervision. Let your "parents" pack for you and make sure it's one of those backpacks with a leash on it. 
The last item you might be able to pick out is a runner's pouch. It's kinda like a fanny pack, only tiny and it fits under your shirt so you might not get made fun of as much. I've been told countless times about people getting pick pocketed in Europe, and I'm sure I'll want to keep my passport with me most of the time, so that's what that is for. I'll have my passport and some backup cash in there. There's also a "secret" compartment in the side of my backpack that would be secret if the manufacturer didn't advertise it amongst it's assets (thanks, Gregory!) where I'll probably keep my passport card (virtually useless in anywhere but Canada, Mexico, and the islands, but if you lose your real passport, you can at least show that to your embassy to get a replacement quicker) and some extra cash. 
In addition to all this crap, I have a little messenger bag (or a satchel if you're Indiana Jones or Alan from The Hangover) that I'll use when I've got my backpack stowed in a locker somewhere and just want to run around town. It zips AND clasps, so the chances of it getting pick pocketed are slim. It's big enough to hold my iPad mini, a little journal notebook I've got, some pens, and a charger. I'm also taking a Jockery backup battery with me in it too. To say that I'm addicted to my technology would be the understatement of the year. I like to use it to talk to a select few people and ignore the rest. It also provides an annoyingly finite number of hours of music, movies, and other entertainment. This jockery I got is supposed to charge an iPad or iPhone ten times before it runs out. That should do me. I'll go ahead and point out for anyone that doesn't already know, international plans are EXPENSIVE. I won't be getting one. I'm putting my phone on a reduced rate service plan so it's only $10/month. I'll be switching out my sim card with one that I buy over there with some calling, texting, and data capabilities, but for the most part I'm just going to be relying on wifi. Which means that when I bike across Portugal I may have to actually find a paper map..
I had initially intended to keep my backpack under 22 pounds because that's the cutoff for RyanAir's carry on weight. I don't know how much I'll be trying to use them, but if I decide to, I don't want to be stuck on the ground because my backpack was too heavy. All of this wound up weighing in at 21.2 pounds. Can anyone here say "success?!" But also, the Cairn 48 is slightly bigger in dimensions than they allow.. Hopefully if I try to fly with them, they aren't being sticklers about that, or they have room in the hull. I may wind up ditching an item or twelve before I leave. I may also add one or two. Probably not. We're gonna see how this all plays out. I'll let you know as I go along!

Why I Want to Travel

Whenever I tell people I'm going to go backpack Europe for the next several months, a common question is, "why?" To which I readily respond, "why not?!" They usually follow it up with a slight chuckle and then comment, "I wish I could do/had done that." Tonight I've found myself asking that same question. Why do I want to travel? What has possessed me to sell all the possessions that have helped me identify who I am in order to live out of a backpack on the other side of the world? The answer I've discovered is two-fold. Both of which sound quite cliché, but I'm going to say them anyway.


The first reason is quite simple. In 20 years, I don't want to be one of those people that sits there and says, "Man, I wish I had done that." Regret looks so ugly strewn across even the most beautiful face. I want to be one of those rare beings that enthusiastically leaps at the opportunity to share my stories, advice, and favorite places to eat. As much as I want to soak up every word these people say to me, it's quite impossible to do without a recorder. Even if I had one, I can't possibly go to all the places they've all told me in a single trip; even if it does last more than six months. But these are the people I enjoy talking to the most. Most of these people, especially the ones who traveled less often, or didn't travel lavishly, get a certain twinkle in their eye when they share their stories. Almost as if they were talking about their first love. Most everyone seems to have a person that can give them that eye twinkle, few have a life that gives it to them. I want to be one of those people. I want to be so in love with my own life that people feel inspired and infected by my enthusiasm for it. For me, loving life means regular adventures.


The second half of why I want to travel is experience. Experience, being an ongoing and very much individual process, is an arbitrary term; so allow me to explain what I mean. This is complete speculation on my part, seeing as how I have never been outside the United States and my entire knowledge of the "outside world" has come from  my "higher education," the news, the internet, and hear-say. I believe, however, that Americans are some of the most privileged, yet least culturally aware people on earth. According to the state department, only about 36% of Americans even own a valid passport. I, for one, have had a passport for several years, yet it has gone unused. I wonder how many of the other 36% are in the same boat as myself...


Most of this seems to be because of convenience. The United States is huge. It takes up most of the inhabitable portion of North America. Our only shared borders are with Canada and Mexico. The most prevalent foreign culture in the United States is the Hispanic culture, and no other foreign culture comes close to that percentage. We share so much with them that Spanish is taught as a second language in probably every high school in the United States. If there is a high school or college in the US that doesn't teach Spanish as a second language, I would be genuinely surprised. Also, to put the vast size of the United States into perspective, just pull up a world map (here you go, you lazy bastards). I won't lie, as a child I thought the United States was blown up on world maps because we were the best and most important. While I'd still give our great nation a high-five or some kind of secret handshake for being awesome, we're actually just that big. The puppy dog head (Sweden, Finland, and Norway) could literally fit inside Alaska with room to spare. In the same mileage it would take to drive across Texas from  wingtip to wingtip, you could drive across several countries in Europe, depending on what route you took. Having said that, Americans usually have to drive hundreds if not thousands of miles to cross an international border and experience an all new culture. Europeans, on the other hand.. Well, you can walk across Andorra in less time than it takes the sun to set on their beautiful mountains.


As exhausting/exciting as it sounds to take a road trip through the entire continental United States - and even most of Canada - you would be hard pressed to find a culture too different from your own. In fact, if you're ever forced to play a game of charades because of a language barrier with more than five people present, you probably took a wrong turn and wound up in Mexico. Even though America is filled with sub-cultures, basically everyone (with the exceptions of immigrants and expats) whether democrat, republican, Christian or atheist, everyone you run into in the United States is an American. We all share a common patriotism, language, and cultural history. This isn't so in Europe. Each country has a very unique history, patriotism, and language. Some countries even have several languages. Switzerland has four official languages! The argument could be made that Europeans are all still very European, and they are, but I still believe that with all the border hopping, the charades played to decipher languages (and learning several different languages), and even going from the old architecture of Budapest to the modern buildings in Copenhagen, there is a better understanding of the differences between people in the world. Also, I would like to point out that the European Union actually goes out of it's way to ensure that dying cultures stay alive in their respective areas.


The point here with the experience, I suppose, is that I want to experience the cultures. I want to know what differentiates the Austrians from the Swiss aside from a simple border and language. I don't want to just read about this stuff anymore. I want to go there, see it all for myself, and know it well enough to write about it. I want to be drenched, miserable, and lost. I want to be completely enamored by a picturesque scene. I want to drop a coin in the hat of a street performer and watch them come alive. I want to have the experiences and memories that will give me that twinkle in my eye when I think back on them. I don't just want to be a citizen of the United States. I want to be a citizen of Europe too. And Asia, and Africa, and South America, and Australia. I want to be a citizen of the world.