A Kat's Tale: Keeping up with Katryna

IMPORTANT: READ ME! CHANGE OF BLOG ADDRESS

kat617 — Mon, 9 Feb 2015 14:55:00 GMT

Due to the extremely limited functions of this particular blogging platform, I have decided to relocate my blog to a different platform.

Please follow the link below and bookmark it or select one of the "follow me" options on the page to keep up to date with my adventures from now on.

https://keepingupwithkatryna.wordpress.com/

A new blog post has been uploaded onto my new webpage! Please follow the link above to see it.

The new page has all my previous blogs uploaded onto it and updated, so you can start reading right from the beginning of my grand adventures!

Thank you all for your unwavering support and love.

xoxo

Things That Were, Things That Are, and Things That Will Be.

kat617 — Thu, 29 Jan 2015 14:44:00 GMT

When I began to write this entry, I wasn’t sure where to begin. Then I wasn’t sure where to finish. I just kept writing everything that came to mind, and I wrote for hours. By the time I ran out of things to say I was so tired that I couldn’t even read my own words. I meant to re-read and edit the following day, but I ended up quite sick (seemingly with a variation of the flu) and couldn’t look at a computer screen without worsening my headache. Today, feeling much better although definitely not one hundred percent recovered, I have finally managed to edit all my ramblings into what I think is an acceptable first post written in South America. It may be a little rough (I’m still sick!) so please bear with me.

Welcome friends, family, colleagues, acquaintances, and internet strangers: welcome to Peru!

Here, drivers have the right of way over pedestrians (possibly true in all of South America, but I can’t confirm that yet). The use of a vehicular horn is quite different in this part of the world. People drive down the streets honking at everything and everyone, ALL of the time. Sometimes there isn’t even anything to honk at, and drivers honk anyway: I witnessed one guy lay on the horn the entire way down an abandoned street. There are a ton of stray dogs running around the city, baking in the sun during the day wherever they can find a patch of pavement to rest, and ganging up in groups at night to fight each other. Barking is so common it becomes part of the background noise- you stop noticing it after about a week. Unfortunately you also stop noticing the presents those dogs leave behind all over the sidewalks and roads, and once in a while you get the remnants of one of those presents on the bottom of your shoe. I often hear the shrewd and annoying sounds of whistles late into the night, although I have no idea why. They sound similar to the whistles that the traffic police use during the busy hours of the day. Fireworks are huge here. People have fireworks for everything- regardless of time or special event. I have heard them booming at all hours of the night. It isn’t necessary to set an alarm for the morning because like clockwork, there is someone relatively close to my neighborhood that feels a need to make very loud noises at 4:00 am, 5:00 am, 6:00 am, 7:00 am, 7:15 am, 7:30 am, 7:45 am...you get the point. There are people standing outside the doors of little restaurants and cafes, welcoming you to come in and try their ceviche or their lomo saltado, or their pisco sour. Some of them have English (okay, Spanglish) catch-phrases: “you want drink? Is muy hot! Happy hour! Come in for happy hour!” I also had a street artist try to sell me his paintings by telling me “my name is Johnny Cash!” I have to admit, that was almost a selling point right there.

So what does this all mean? It means the noise never stops. The noise. Never. Stops. But along with all that incessant noise comes a lot of cultural exuberance. Life is everywhere. It is in the small Andean child, his round rosy cheeks beaming while he sits on the sidewalk outside of his mother’s small store (tienda) and plays with the tiny, fluffy, puppy. It is in the artist who walks the streets day in and day out, carrying a giant portfolio of paintings to sell to anyone who he can get to stop for a conversation. It is in the fruit vendor, who pushes her little cart up and down the sidewalks, fanning away the flies from the wide variety of local fruits. It is in the restaurant owner, who beckons you inside the main floor of her house that she has converted into a makeshift restaurant, takes your order, and then goes and cooks it herself, proudly serving you her home cooked meals for the equivalent of a few dollars. It is in the markets, in all the little stalls, in all the lovely handmade pieces: everything you can possibly think of, and then some. It is in the multiple museums and art galleries, the tour stores advertising treks and train rides, and the little lavanderias where you can get your clothes washed, dried, and folded in a few hours for a couple dollars. Life is huge here.

I had a moment the other day that really struck a note with me. When you take out money from a bank here it costs you $5 every time, so you are always conscientious of that fact and try to withdraw bigger amounts at once and then hide the extra cash around so you don’t lose it if you get pickpocketed or mugged. Yesterday I took a S/.100 (100 Peruvian Soles) with me for the day; it just so happened that I managed to spend it all in one day. I got a beautiful scarf from a market, a pair of shoes, some food, and some ice cream; it all added up. I realized I had just spent all of the S/.100 and for a moment was quite shocked. I couldn’t believe I had spent so much. How would I ever survive long enough on my savings if I spend money like this? After mentally kicking myself for a few minutes, I decided to check and see how much S/.100 converted to in CAD$. It is equivalent to about $40 Canadian.

Yeah. I couldn’t help but laugh at myself, despite my bemusement. I had gotten so used to the value of money here for locals that I started to think the same way about my money. When you’re traveling for an extended period of time, this is actually the best way to think about the value of your money- it gets you farther on less. I am glad I have started to appreciate the value of my money here, and to realize that with every extra Sol you spend on a drink or on a taxi, the less you’ll be able to do in the future. Once in a while though, you have that little reality check and realize that it isn’t the end of the world because you spent what is a lot according to local standards.

It all comes down to one simple thing, in the end: what really matters? Are you a big spender? Do you appreciate what you have? Are you always wanting more? More of what? More clothes, more nights out, more trips to museums, more flights, more hostels, more food, more water? You can’t drink the tap water here, so you better budget for bottled water or make sure you’re in a place with a drinking filter on the tap. You want a shower? Make sure you know during what hours the place you’re staying at has water (my current home doesn’t have water between approximately 8:00 pm and 5:00 am). Our level of appreciation is very different than so many parts of the world. We, our North American society as a whole, lack appreciation. It is obvious in our throw-away, buy-a-new-one economy. One major thing that I love about Peru is that you can get ANYTHING fixed here. Your toaster stopped working? Take it down to one of the markets, there will be a guy there who can fix it for you in a few hours. Your sole came off your shoe? Take it to the market as well- probably in the stall next to the toaster-fixing guy. Button popped off your shirt and you can’t sew? You could have it repaired while you munch on a tamale from the stall next door. Such is life in Peru: different, humbling, curious, fascinating, lively, and loud.

Beyond general observations of the country, let me sum up my life since arriving in Peru almost two weeks ago. I landed in Lima just before midnight on the 14th (almost the 15th for those who are chronically challenged). I had arranged for the hostel I booked with to pick me up at the airport, so there was no sketchy taxi business involved. It ended up being 1:30 am by the time I arrived at the hostel and got my room. Jet-lag was not my friend and despite being exhausted from nearly two full days of flying, I was unable to sleep until almost 4:00 am. Fast forward to the normal daylight hours: I woke up in Miraflores, a beautiful coastal section of Lima. It is the rich part of the city and, consequently, the one with the most tourism (a common association). The sun was beating down, casting gorgeous rays of light across the city. It was hot, but with a slight breeze sweeping in off the ocean the temperature felt wonderful. It was like I had woken up in a dreamland. I stayed in Lima for three days. During that time I managed to give myself a terrible sunburn, which got me many odd looks in the streets and several comments from store tenders and fellow hostellers. I ate wonderful, fresh, Peruvian cuisine and had some lovely Pisco Sours and local red wine. I met people from all over the world: primarily Australians, Americans, and Europeans, most of whom also seemed to be traveling without any particular set intention in mind. The conversations with fellow travelers are something I cherish greatly. People come from all different paths in life and I find it inherently interesting to know why someone is traveling, to know their plans, to know where they’ve already been and what they loved, to know what went wrong or was a bit beyond their comfort level, and so on. I perused the streets of Lima and explored the markets with some of these new friends. I met up with an old friend for an afternoon and we practiced conversing in both Spanish and English (practicing Spanish was for me, practicing English was for her- it worked out nicely!). I milled about the beaches and chatted with surfers and slept off my jet-lag. I read in the sun-soaked patio of my hostel. I re-gained confidence in the Spanish that I know, but haven’t practiced in years. And then, I took an early morning flight to Cusco, on the 18th.

Cusco. I have been here for about a week and a half now. I was picked up at the airport by employees of the school through which I am taking my TEFL course. They brought me to the main office, where I signed in and got my welcome package including a tour of the school. They then dropped me off at my homestay house.

Edit: I tried to add photos directly into this blog but it wouldn't size them properly and kept cutting them off. Very frustrating!! Instead I have created an online album and you can view my photos from Cusco and the hike to Naupa here:

https://www.dropbox.com/sh/o5cwlq44ve99ub3/AACf7MKx_4V9tEvCqE-0987ka?dl=0

Funny story: it was the wrong homestay house. No one noticed for about an hour, by which point I had already met the family and fellow students, and had mostly unpacked my bag. I was given an option to stay or go to the homestay I was originally supposed to be in. I liked the place I was in already so I decided to stay. Turned out to be a great decision- my host family is sweet, welcoming, and hilarious, and they are trying to learn English so we often practice each others’ languages. They are a middle-aged couple with two sons who do not live at home, and a ten year old daughter who loves theater, miming, and painting my nails (actually, just the other night we had a sing-off. I won’t tell you who lost). They also have a beautiful little cocker spaniel dog, named Toffe (pronounced Toffee). The cousins visit frequently, so there are usually quite a few people around. The kids are hilarious and love to play games with us. It is a happy house. During my few bouts of sickness my host-mama has taken care of me as if I were her own child: checking up on me, bringing me dinner in bed when I was too exhausted and weak to eat at the table, ensuring I had enough blankets and pillows, and making me hot lemon teas at night to help me sleep. When you’re sick and in a place far away from home, this kind of comfort means so much to you. I couldn’t ask for a better placement.

As for my TEFL course, it is a lot of work. I didn’t realize quite how much work would be involved. On the first day we were told that this one-month-long program is equivalent to three full-semester university courses.

I’ll just leave that statement up there for you to read again. Go ahead. Read it again.

INTENSE, right? Week one just finished and I didn’t go to sleep before midnight from Wednesday on. We are in class all day, then have assigned readings and papers to write. I had several days where I was at the school for 10-11 hours straight, then came home for dinner and did homework all evening. This is my primary excuse for not providing any updates until now. Eat, school, eat, school, eat, homework, sleep, repeat. My program is back-loaded, so it will only get more difficult.

The course itself is pretty good. We have 16 students in the class and everyone is cool. When you are with the same people for so long, day in and day out, you get to know each other’s quirks pretty quickly. I think we have a good thing going on. Some of us went on a day-hike/brewery visit out in the Sacred Valley on Saturday, where we took a bus an hour and a half out of town and hiked up to some Incan ruins, known as Ñaupa (pronounced “nee-ow-pa”). It is a place considered to be very spiritual and people often go up with offerings to Pachamama (“Mother Earth”) to say thanks or to ask for something (like rain, when it has been dry for a while). There are terraces and stone steps up the side of a mountain that lead to a cave, where you can see that chunks of rock have been carved out to provide spaces to leave offerings. After visiting the site, we stopped at the Sacred Valley Brewing Company where we enjoyed a barbeque, live music, and of course, beer, in their courtyard. Quite a nice way to spend a sunny afternoon!

On Sunday I managed to have a day off, because I finished my homework early (I hate getting behind). I went to a yoga class with some of my housemates. It was pretty interesting to do yoga at 11,000 feet above sea level! The altitude here takes a while to adjust to- the first few days I was here, I was tired and had low energy levels, but once your body starts to adjust it’s fine. Altitude affects everyone differently and some people actually struggle quite a bit. Apparently it takes about two weeks to fully adjust, so I’m not quite there yet. This past weekend was really the first time I attempted any sort of physical activity beyond climbing up and down the hills of Cusco to get around. I still get winded going up stairs (and there are a LOT of stairs in this town!). Another big issue is that the air here is quite dry, so I find myself constantly thirsty. You learn quickly to make sure you always bring a water bottle with you! The UV is much higher here, as there is a growing hole in the ozone layer above Chile, and a lot of that affects Peru. I now wear an SPF 80 daily and usually long sleeves/pants or a skirt to prevent any more sunburns.

Cusco is full of beautiful colonial buildings and large Catholic temples. It is known as the archaeological capital of the Americas, although I’m sure other cities would disagree. There are tons of little winding side streets, barely wide enough to fit one car, with sidewalks just big enough for you to squeeze past without getting run over. Some of the walls in the city are built with the cut stones from Incan era buildings, that the Spaniards disassembled and used in their own structures. It is a charming place. If you want to know more (I highly recommend learning more about Cusco as it has a really interesting past and was highly significant to the Incan civilization and during the time of the Spanish Invasion/Conquest), this website has a decent summary of Cusco’s history as the Incan Capital: http://archive.archaeology.org/online/features/peru/cuzco.html

This area is rich with archaeological ruins and well-documented history. My plan is to visit as many local archaeological sites as possible while I’m here, especially on the weekends when I have a bit more time. By the end of my program I will hopefully have become well adapted to the altitude and will be in much better shape for potentially taking on Machu Picchu. There are great looking hikes in the area as well; alternatively you can easily grab an inexpensive bus ride out into the Sacred Valley and do some exploring. I could see this place being quite a comfortable one to live in for a while. I don’t know what my plans are yet, after my TEFL course is done. I may stick around for a while and get in some more exploring, I may try to pick up a job in the area, or I may move on. Decisions will need to be made eventually, but for now I’m focusing on my TEFL course and attempting to stay healthy. I am also considering taking some Spanish classes to help speed up my learning process. Living with my host family and speaking with locals at stores and restaurants certainly helps but I think I’d like to catapult myself into it. Along my current line of thinking, it would probably be best to learn as much Spanish as I can in a place where I am relatively comfortable and have somewhat of a safety network before moving on.

Well, friends and family, that is about it for this time around. If you’re still reading by this point I’m flattered and impressed. It was a long one. I thank you all for sticking with me and continuing to read about my updates and adventures!

Hugs from Cusco.

Pre-Departure and In-Flight Ponderings

kat617 — Thu, 15 Jan 2015 05:26:00 GMT

Ugh, those feelings.

I mean, how can one person experience so many emotions in such a short span of time?

It is some kind of overload, similar to when you try to run too many programs simultaneously on a computer and it starts going really slowly or just freezes on you. Our poor human brains. Capable of immense possibilities, but so fragile at the same time. You would think evolution would have helped us out a bit more on this front. Feelings suck, but I guess they’re necessary...how else would those little girl guides at your door get you to buy their overpriced cookies? You have a hard time saying no to them because you FEEL they’re cute. Or maybe a better example is when you FEEL guilty about calling in sick to work so you go in anyway. Really, brain? Emotional intelligence: it will either be the downfall or the saving grace of the human population.

Well, where do I start? The last week has been absolutely crazy. I have said “see ya later” to many people in my life. You have all been so supportive and thoughtful. The fact that a lot of you went out of your way to see me before I left because you couldn’t make it to my good-bye shindig was really touching. Every message and phone call I have received has made me feel loved and I am blessed to be surrounded by people like you.

When I started actually planning this adventure several months ago (although in my head it had been planned for far longer), it all seemed surreal. Even when I booked my one-way flights, I only had a second of hesitation. When I registered for my TEFL course it seemed like nothing. When I booked my hostel for the first night in Lima, it wasn’t anything special; and so on, and so on. In theory, I was as ready as I possibly could be for this adventure.

If I had to choose one word to characterize how the last week has made me feel I would say “overwhelmed.” Like, severely. Every time I saw someone and knew it was the last time I would see them for a long time, I choked up a little bit more. By the time I arrived at YVR and was saying bye to my Mom, I couldn’t even speak without breaking out in tears. WHO AM I?!

Every time I receive a phone call or text message or email or facebook chat from someone with last minute wishes and thoughts, I am somewhat reassured. And then I think about that person who contacted me, I realize I won’t see them for a long time, and the anxiety creeps up again. I don’t really know why. I’m not new to world travels. I’ve gone international before and I’ve been fine. The difference this time is that I don’t have a set return date, or even a set itinerary after the first month, and the only word to describe THAT feeling is absolutely, unresputidley terrifying.

Don’t get me wrong. I am so lucky to have the opportunity to follow one of my dreams. I mean, I worked really hard to make it happen, but I managed, and it’s becoming a reality. How often have you done that? Really done that? This is completely unjustified in so many ways. Let me explain: I justified my dream of going to university because in our society, it is the next natural step after high school, and supposedly helps you get better job options, et cetera. I justified becoming a lifeguard, and then a first aid instructor, because it would help me pay for school and rent. I justified organizing and running a full fledged lifeguard competition two years in a row because it provided an educational experience and showed I was capable of management skills. I justified going on two archaeological field schools, because I wanted to look really good on paper when I finally applied for jobs. Do you see a trend yet?I’ve never simply chased down a dream for the sake of it. This time, it’s the opposite. I am traveling, for the sake of traveling. Everything else is just white noise.

Freedom. Too much of it is a bit frightening. We are so used to our daily lives in the rat-race that I think we forget what we are capable of. Wake up, get ready, go to work, come home, eat dinner, do some random but probably not life-changing things, and go to bed. Every. Single. Day. I’m not critizing anyone for this routine; I’m guilty of it myself and it’s how our society works. But it’s also how we get by. How we survive. I’m sick of simply surviving. I want to live.

Okay so maybe this is sounding all meta-bullshit and a bit radical, and I did just watch The Matrix trilogy before Christmas so there is some potential for recent bias in how I see the world, but at some point I think you have to accept that you know you aren’t living the life you want to be living, and then you have the choice of what to do about that fact. As previously stated in my first blog entry, 2014 was the year I finally admitted it was time to do something about that. So here I am, sitting in the JFK airport in New York, waiting at the gate for the next leg of my flight to take me to my dreams.

When I was in grade seven we had a substitute teacher that ended up taking over our class after our regular teacher went on a stress-leave. Everyone thought he was a jerk. He would tell us that we always have a choice. I absolutely hated that phrase. In my naive mind I would come up with infinite situations in which I believed I wouldn’t have a choice: the house catches fire- of course you leave the building! Someone robs you at gunpoint- of course you give them your stuff! It took me years to understand what that teacher meant (to clarify I likely would still make those decisions if put in those situations, but you catch my drift. One could theoretically CHOOSE to stay in a burning building or stand up to an armed robbery). Many people have told me over the past while that they think what I’m doing is inspiring, brave, they wish they could do it, they’re jealous. Now, I don’t want to be misunderstood here- I love the amount of support people in my life have given me for this decision. It is astounding. I deeply appreciate all commentary on what I’ve chosen to do; however, when I hear comments like the above there is always a little voice in the back of my mind questioning why those people don’t choose to make their dreams happen.

Okay I need to back up a step here, because I’m starting to sound pretentious and callous. I completely understand why there is a general hesitancy to change directions in life. There are a TON of factors involved, believe me. It is emotionally draining (and I haven’t even reached my destination yet). I had this conversation with a close friend of mine the other day and they pointed out that a lot of the time it is a priority issue. Whatever the main priority in your life is will always come first over everything else if you let it. But don’t you choose your priorities? Aren’t you in charge of your life? I was raised to believe that if you really want to do something, there is almost nothing that can stand in your way of achieving it. You work hard enough, you put in the time and effort, and you will likely succeed. I was also raised to not give up. I think the phrase I remember hearing most growing up was “if at first you don’t succeed, try again.” Maybe it’s just me, maybe I’m restless and unsettled, maybe I don’t find the typical life routine satisfying, and maybe that’s enough to push me to change my life. There are a thousand maybes out there. All you can do is find the one that sounds most interesting to you and take a chance on it.

So yes, I am terrified. Moreso than I even like to admit. I have had multiple bouts of anxiety in the last few weeks. I’ve had moments where I stopped what I was doing and had a minor freak out, asking myself what the hell I am doing. I even had a moment where I briefly considered canceling the whole thing, because I got so overwhelmed. I don’t know what will happen. I don’t know if I’ll love this dream as much as I think I will. I could hate it. I could be miserable and decide that it isn’t for me, and I could be home much sooner than I had planned to be. Or I could fall absolutely, unequivicolly in love with my new life path. All I know at this point is if I don’t at least try, I’ll never know what I could be missing out on. Life is full of choices and consequences, after all, it’s just that most of the choices we make are small daily ones. Once in a while, a choice comes along that has a bit more of an impact on your life. This happens to be one of those times in my life.

And so, friends, family, colleagues, and the wide world of the Internet: if I have one thing I can say to you, it is that I am not inspiring or brave or crazy or anything else. I have made a choice. It is a choice with more risk and more potential complications than deciding to have Chinese food for dinner, but it also has a potential higher return for life satisfaction. In my eyes, that’s worth the risk.

Hugs, and infinite amounts of love, from New York.

P.S. I likely will not have as frequent internet access once I land in Peru tonight, so don’t worry if it takes me longer than normal to respond. I am also keeping my phone in airplane mode until I can get a local SIM card for it to avoid ridiculous long-distance roaming charges. As of the 16th, my BC phone number will no longer be in service. This means you must use Skype or Google Hangouts video to call me. Send me a message online to set up a video call time!

P.P.S. I have not gotten much sleep lately so if I rambled a lot in this entry I apologize. I did attempt to edit!

P.P.P.S. I am now 3 hours ahead of you if you live in the PST time zone, and I will be as long as I am on the west coast of South America (at least for the next month). If my time zone changes again I will post an update.

Seven days until a Pisco Sour!

kat617 — Wed, 7 Jan 2015 15:46:00 GMT

Seven days.

Not “The Ring” creepy-dead-girl-crawling-out-of-a-well-to-haunt-you-and-kill-you version. You weirdos.

Seven days until I depart from Canada!

One week. I have one week to finish preparing for a massive life change. Since the excitement of Christmas and New Years passed, I have been trying to figure out what I’ll actually bring with me. Now, I’m not one who would describe myself as particularly materialistic, but if there is anything that can get me to admit I have WAY too much stuff for one person…it’s attempting to pack only what I absolutely need into ONE bag.

I’ve looked at countless travel blogs: read seasoned backpackers’ explanations of their bag size, how they managed to fit everything they took with them for a round-the-world-trip in a 35 litre backpack, what they found the most useful items to be, what to leave behind, and so on. I’ve bookmarked and Pinterest-ed many “what to pack” lists, photos included. I’ve read Lonely Planet chapters. I even resorted to several forums of obscure backpacker/traveler websites that I didn’t know existed. I asked The Google Gods what to pack for teaching English overseas, what to pack for traveling South America, what to pack for hiking Machu Picchu, what to pack for visiting the Galapagos Islands, what to pack for checking out Patagonia, what the best kind of bag for backpacking is, if I should bring a sleeping bag or just a sleep sack, if it’s worth it to bring hiking boots and runners or if I should just pick one and get over it, and the list continues. I searched Amazon for items marked as critical by other backpackers. By this point it should be fairly obvious that the Internet swallowed me into its dark recesses for several days as I frantically searched for as much information as I could possibly lay my hands on. I thought I had it pretty figured out, after doing my due diligence in researching the topic…until I started pulling items out of their respective places in my room and piling them onto my bed.

Several lists told me that a scarf is an essential travel item. Well, okay, I have scarves- that should be easy enough. I pulled out the box from under my bed that holds outdoor gear and started sorting through it. Well, what kind of scarf? A cozy, knit one? A lightweight one that could be used as a head scarf or shawl? A large, warm one? And what color? What pattern? Should I take two? I’ll be experiencing all seasons and all climates in my travels! How can I possibly pick one? I’m sure you can guess how the thought process went when I tried to pick one pair of gloves, one hat, only three pairs of footwear…in short, I believe this is the ultimate test of a true adventurer: leave behind damn near everything you own and go only with what you can carry on your back.

What complicates this whole process even more is that I’m not simply backpacking South America. While I will be doing the exciting, adventurous, tourist-type things, I’m also going to be spending a lot of time in the professional world. I need to bring school/work appropriate attire as well as the typical traveling and hiking gear. In much of South America, Peru especially, people don’t dress shabbily. Even the poorest still dress as nicely as they can. Class is much more prevalent than in our society; it would be absurd to purposefully walk around wearing ripped jeans or a t-shirt, for example. I’m the epitome of a slob when I don’t feel like putting effort in to appearance and I could usually care less about leaving my house in old jeans and a hoodie. I’m the girl who works out of town in remote locations for months on end, with a wardrobe containing nearly exclusively Carhartt-brand work clothes and steel-toed boots. I love my sweatpants.

This will be a bit of a change for me.

Change is good, though! So while I am sitting here, reflecting on how I’ve been pulling my hair out trying to decide what to bring, I need to keep that in mind. Nothing is permanent, anyway. Mail exists. Stores exist. If something isn’t working out for me, I can ditch it on the road. If I really need something I don’t have, I can get it shipped from home (thanks in advance, Mom!) or buy it there. It really isn’t as big of a deal as it seems to be at this point in time, and I think that as my adventures begin I will become more comfortable with my limited choices. Besides, if I don’t have something I need, that just means I get to buy it, right? Shopping!! Shopping in foreign countries!! Shopping in large artisan markets surrounded by new sights and smells and experiences!!

Once I have it figured out I’ll post a list (maybe even with a photo) of what made the cut, to quench your curiosity. I know you’re all dying to know just how many shirts I’ll manage to squeeze into my bag. One can never have too many cute tops…

I’ve managed to ramble on about packing for the majority of this entry (surprise), so I feel I should add a few more thoughts before closing. One thing I am really looking forward to is the food. Some of you may not know, but over the past five years or so Peruvian food has really made its way into the international food limelight. There are a multitude of restaurants run by world-famous chefs, with CHEAP prices compared to what North American and European countries charge. The first three days of my trip will be spent in Lima before I fly to Cusco, and Lima is where a lot of these restaurants are. Guess what I’ll be doing! Besides the food, it’s been years since I’ve had a good Pisco Sour. Literally, the last time I had a good one was IN Peru, in 2011. Either bars don’t have Pisco in Canada or when they do, they really can’t make the drink properly. Either way it’s a disappointing experience to try and have Peru’s national drink in Canada. I think that will be one of the first stops I make while wandering around Lima! I can see it now: a nice restaurant patio, with an ocean view, sipping a delicious Pisco Sour while reading a novel. Heaven.

The other thing I am excited for is meeting my host family. I am doing a homestay in Cusco while I’m taking the TEFL program (it’s all arranged through the school) and this will be the first time I’ve ever done so. A whole month of living with complete strangers- I’m excited to adopt even more people into my family circle! One of my main goals is to become fluent in Spanish, so I am hoping that living with a Peruvian family will really help speed up the process through maximizing my immersion in the language. Can’t wait!

Here I am, a week away from departing this beautiful home land of mine, and I can’t help but think of the places I’m going to see, the people I’m going to meet, the adventures I’m going to have, and the experiences I’ll never forget. I’m excited to be able to share it with you all.

¡Hasta la vista, amigos!

Photos: Inspiration

kat617 — Sat, 27 Dec 2014 12:22:00 GMT

photos that help capture my love of travel; stolen from the interwebs (thanks google images!). I refer back to these when I'm at a loss for writing, or to remind me why I am undertaking such endeavors.

Because, I can.

kat617 — Mon, 15 Dec 2014 16:02:00 GMT

Friends, family, colleagues, and those who have wandered haphazardly onto this page: welcome.

Welcome to the inner workings and nuances of my mind as I embark on a new adventure to South America.

Today marks the 30 Day Countdown until my date of departure from Canada. From this point henceforth, I am unable to guarantee sanity in what I write. Those who know me, know I have a tendency to ramble; I will do my best to keep my ramblings to a minimum (or at least edit what I write before I post it online!).

I have decided to take on the challenge of committing to keeping a travel blog. I have several reasons for doing so, the primary one being that I find the number of emails I would need to send ominous if I were to attempt to update my loved ones that way. Secondly, I kept a journal while I was in Peru in 2011 and I have often read it over again, reliving those memories. I’d like to preserve my new memories in the same way. Third, and perhaps the most selfish reason of all, this will be an exercise in commitment. I have set this as a personal goal and hope to be able to stick it through. While I would normally ask for your help in this matter by harassing me if I begin to fail in my blog updates, I am instead going to ask that you let me attempt to do this on my own. It needs to come from me.

Well. Enough of the technical information. On to the meat and potatoes of my adventure: why I am leaving everything behind and running away to South America for an indeterminate period of time.

I must warn you that what follows is quite emotionally charged.

On February 10^th, 2014, a good friend of mine passed away in a motor vehicle accident on her way home from work to visit her family, on what was the Family Day stat holiday in our province. Carley’s death was a terrible accident, a tragedy that shocked us all. It goes without saying the immeasurable sadness that followed. The shining moment in that patch of darkness was how so many people came together to deal with the brutality of the incident. We sat together in disbelief at first, any words we could think of sounding completely worthless in the face of what had happened. We cried together. We made sure all of her friends and acquaintances, all the people whose lives Carley had touched, knew about her death. There were many. We somehow made it to her funeral in her hometown; and the following weekend had a celebration of life for her in Vancouver. Each day I woke up and for a few quick seconds I was normal. I was happy. And each morning, after those few blissful moments, I would suddenly remember that one of my close friends was dead and my stomach would drop, and instant nausea would set in. It was like reliving the initial shock every day. For lack of better words, it was agony.

At some point, somehow, the pain began to lessen. It took months but eventually when I woke up in the mornings, it wasn’t quite as much of a shock when I remembered Carley had died. It went from the big shocks to the little ones: seeing her name in my phone’s contact list as I was scrolling through; or finding the handwritten Christmas card she had sent me over the holidays, less than two months before she died. The agony began to morph into a quiet sadness, hitting me like the ebbs and flows of the ocean tides: firmly, often, and with whimsical nostalgia for the loss of something profound. Upon reflection, I learned that what I was experiencing is referred to as acceptance.

Carley’s death seemed to coincide with a period of overwhelming negativity in my life. In the months that followed I had four jobs but no reliable, steady work. I managed to injure myself badly enough that I had to stay off my feet for six weeks, forcing me to be sedentary and to gain more insanity. I found myself abruptly moving out of my home of two years due to extenuating circumstances which I no longer felt were worth fighting over. These are several examples of what was happening in my life on top of the regular comings and goings and more personal matters, and in no certain terms, I was in a slump. It was at this point I realized how unhappy I really was. I do not know if my state could be considered depression, but I knew I needed change. However, my lack of reliable income and the steady inflow of bills prevented me from being able to instigate anything drastic right away, so I came up with a plan.

I knew my seasonal job in archaeology would be picking up at some point in the near future. I planned to work as much as I could during that time, make as much as I possibly could, essentially selling my soul to work and work only for as long as I could possibly milk the busy season for. Then I would do what I had wanted to do since I was a teenager in high school: become an ESL teacher and travel the world.

The fantasy originated in my young, eleventh-grade mind, after I participated in a cultural exchange that my high school had set up with a college in Taiwan. I had caught the travel bug and the most obvious way for me to be able to travel far and wide forever was to become an English teacher. I was convinced this was the best way for me to live my life. Then I graduated high school with the intention of fulfilling my dream and quickly realized that in order to travel, even if you will be working, you first need to have some money. I was duped by my inability to support my own dreams. Defeated, I decided I had to get a degree, in order to get a job that would pay well, in order to be able to afford to travel. Off to university I went, and my high school dreams were soon lost among the thousands of new ideas that one experiences in the realm of university courses. I became an anthropologist, an archaeologist. I graduated university and was hired right away at a firm to do consulting work. I thought life was pretty good. I completely forgot about my intentions of traveling the world, until the events of early 2014 occurred.

So here I am, friends. I have come back to the unfulfilled dream, spurred by a series of unfortunate events and the need for change. It isn’t a pretty story, but it is a significant one. And to me, that means the most. I’m leaving my home and my job(s) and family and friends; I’m leaving my comfort zone, because when your comfort zone is no longer comfortable there is something wrong. I’m chasing the naïve dream of a 16 year old girl who was unable to follow it 10 years ago. I’m doing it because I can, and because some people aren’t lucky enough to. While this trip is primarily for me, it is also for you, Carley. I will make it to the top of Machu Picchu, I will raft down the Amazon river, I will attend Carnival in Rio, I will explore the Atacama desert, I will board the sand dunes and visit the salt mines of Bolivia, and I will learn the tango and drink locally grown wines in Argentina. Because, simply, I can.

Until next time, friends.