I bought a yellow backpack yesterday. It has a happy yellow flower on it. And if I get lost in the forest WITH my backpack, I do hope that a yellow speck amongst the thick green and brown undergrowth will be considered an anomaly to be quickly investigated. I like my yellow backpack.
It's just a mere 4 weeks to the start of a traipse around a few south american countries. All the plotting and planning and wishing and wondering over the last 6 months is now like a huge moss ball rolling down a steep hill, accelerating to the start line at Tullamarine Airport.
Have I really prepared as well as I could have? Healthwise, I'm probably invincible, given the number of vaccinations I have had in the last month. Moneywise, it is as good as it's going to get. Languagewise, I like to think that as I can read latinised script, somehow, I'll get by and not misunderstand or be misunderstood too often.
I'm excitedly scared. It's been a few years since I let it all hang loose and let the travel itch enthuse me and fill me with great wonder. I've grown old(er) and a bit more reticent, a bit more worrywart-like. Everyone says that once I get on that plane, I will forget all my concerns. Logically, I know that. Emotionally, I'm doubting myself.
Well, I do have 4 weeks and a few more errands to run on the way to Tullamarine Airport. I suppose if I do get cold feet, I can always look at my happy yellow backpack with the happy yellow flower, and I'll remember why I'm doing this - Because I can and because I know I will push my physical boundaries and relish every moment.
