U is for Unicorn

I’m pretty sure there aren’t any actually unicorns to be found anymore, except on that one Noah’s Arc game I used to play at Godfather’s pizzeria when I didn’t like pizza, and in The movie The Last Unicorn which I watched in the theaters and first realized that a unicorn was not, in fact, a Thanksgiving decoration.  And so I’m not talking about finding a real live unicorn (though I reserve the right to still look every now and again), I’m talking about that which we think cannot be attained.

Isn’t that what a bucket list is, anyway? And just like that game I used to play, every now and again, you get the Unicorn, and bring it back to Noah’s Arc just in time, and it’s possible to imagine a whole new world, one that contains unicorns. And I like that world. Don’t you?

R is for Return to Semester at Sea

Pretty much since the moment I stepped off ‘The Great White Mother’ as the SS Universe Explorer was affectionately called by its 600 plus voyagers, in December 1999, I was plotting my return.  Never has an experience changed and formed my life path more then that of the voyage around the world Semester at Sea took me on in the fall of 1999. Quite frankly, Semester at Sea ruined me. I would never again live a simple, easy life. I would always be seeking new worlds, new cultures, people, food and experiences.

It was on the ship, in the early get to know you days on the Bali deck where my cabin was located that I formed my first seemingly unattainable goal to visit all seven continents.  Semester at Sea had brought me to Africa, my fifth continent. It was five years later that I stepped foot on the continent of Antarctica (#7) having sailed from Ushuaia, Argentina (#6).

I became an ESL teacher as a result of having seen the world through Semester at Sea. It was the best way I knew to travel and see the world while actually making money. I taught and lived in Chile and Honduras and traveled extensively from both.  I simply could not shake the wanderlust that Semester at Sea had planted in me. And truthfully, I didn’t want to.

Upon returning to the states, the dream to return to Semester at Sea was still there.  I researched several ways to return to the ship (now a new ship called the MV Explorer.)  I could return as a travel agent for the various field excursions in port, or as the shipboard store clerk or any of the various jobs needed on essentially a cruise ship. I was open to anything that would get me back and traveling around the world again.

But the one job I had become particularly fond of, especially now that I was a teacher, was that of professor. I felt it was the most prestigious for sure, and as such, also the hardest to get. When I got my current job teaching ESL at Colorado State University, I felt a little closer to that goal.  Not that Semester at Sea is looking for ESL teachers, but I felt I had my foot in the door a little bit more now that I was teaching at a university. I envision teaching creative writing and literature onboard, just like the teachers I had while sailing around the world.  

I am not sure how I will eventually get back on the ship that ruined my life and set me on a path of adventure and discovery, but I know that one day the recurring dreams I have of being back on the ship will come true.

O is for Obliterate Obstacles

Bonus points for alliteration! There are always bonus points for alliteration.  Here’s your monthly dose of inspiration coming at you simply because I already talked about Opening a bar, and there’s nothing else I really want to Own now that I recently bought my first house, and there’s only one country that starts with O (can you guess it) and I just recently talked about moving to the Middle East (Opps, did I give it away…. There’s another O.) So, ya, O was a bit of a struggle, and though it’s not a bucket list item, it Offers (there I go again) some advice on how to accomplish all those bucket list goals we all have.

Obstacle is defined as something that obstructs (ohh, another O) or hinders progress.  With a bucket list like mine, you can bet there are more than a few obstacles that stand in the way of completing my goals.  Age, time, and money to name just a few.  But you may have noticed with each post I have a plan, a ‘when’ and a ‘where’ and sometimes a ‘how.’ This plan is how I will obliterate obstacles in my way.

The truth is, any goal you may have will have obstacles, otherwise it wouldn’t be a goal, and you would have already done it by now. It’s a goal because it’s not easy. I met a guy in Costa Rica who left me with a quote I’ve always remember, “The view from the top looks better when you worked hard to get there.”  It’s true. There’s a certain satisfaction in knowing you toiled, you sacrificed, you ate canned food for months, you missed your favorite concert, you worked three jobs, you didn’t sleep.  When you reach that goal, everything seems more worthwhile and you wonder if it wouldn’t feel as good as it does here at the top, because man it feels good, if it didn’t take so much to get there.

Obstacles are just things, usually tiny things that only seem big because they’re blocking our way at the moment. They can be obliterated if you want it badly enough. And I want it badly enough. 

Z is Zugspitze

The Zugspitze is the tallest mountain in Germany.  It is on the border between Germanyand Austria. Its peak measures 9,718 feet above sea level.  I visited The Zugspitze while on a family trip when I was in middle school. This blog was going to be about losing my purse there and not being able to go back and get it. It was going to be about how it was the first time I felt grown up in a bad way. The first time I experienced panic and fear. I didn’t know what else to write about and I needed a Z.

I needed a Z because I am almost finished with this A-Z challenge. But now I know what I will write about when I write about The Zugspitze. I will write about accomplishment.  I didn’t climb to the top of The Zugspitze, that’s not the kind of family I was ever a part of. We simply went to the visitor’s center, probably taking some sort of gondola up and witnessing spectacular views on the way. We didn’t work hard to get to the top, we simply paid a few Francs and were on our way.

I am sure several people have climbed to the top.  And it reminds me of a quote I heard from a guy I met traveling in Montezuma, Costa Rica- “The view from the top looks better when you’ve worked hard to get there.”  We appreciate things so much more when we’ve had to work hard to get there. I tell my ESL students all the time, “don’t translate. You’ll remember it more if you’ve worked hard to discover the answer.”

Our sense of achievement is directly related to our effort.  It is much more satisfying to complete something, reach a goal, finish a project when you know you worked hard, put your best effort into it and couldn’t have done more.

That’s kind of how I feel about this A-Z challenge. When I started out, I wasn’t even sure I could or would be able to do it. It was something I wanted to do to see if I could. Could I write a blog nearly every day for a month? Could I let go the idea that it needs to be perfect and edited and thought over for days? Could I simply write and put it out there day after day? Turns out I could. And I did. And it kind of feels like reaching the top of a mountain, looking down and appreciating where I’ve come even more because of the struggle it took.

I’m glad I did it. It feels great to start something and finish it. It gives me a sense of accomplishment I will carry with me. It lets me know I can do anything I set my mind to. I like to have reminders like that, little challenges that keep me going.  I am happy to be finished and able to focus my attention on other writing, namely, my novel which I have sadly neglected this month. I feel, however, that the brief hiatus will renew me and bring me back fresh to my novel, ready and raring to go.

Z is Zugspitze

The Zugspitze is the tallest mountain in Germany.  It is on the border between Germany and Austria. Its peak measures 9,718 feet above sea level.  I visited The Zugspitze while on a family trip when I was in middle school. This blog was going to be about losing my purse there and not being able to go back and get it. It was going to be about how it was the first time I felt grown up in a bad way. The first time I experienced panic and fear. I didn’t know what else to write about and I needed a Z.

I needed a Z because I am almost finished with this A-Z challenge. But now I know what I will write about when I write about The Zugspitze. I will write about accomplishment.  I didn’t climb to the top of The Zugspitze, that’s not the kind of family I was ever a part of. We simply went to the visitor’s center, probably taking some sort of gondola up and witnessing spectacular views on the way. We didn’t work hard to get to the top, we simply paid a few Francs and were on our way.

I am sure several people have climbed to the top.  And it reminds me of a quote I heard from a guy I met traveling in Montezuma, Costa Rica- “The view from the top looks better when you’ve worked hard to get there.”  We appreciate things so much more when we’ve had to work hard to get there. I tell my ESL students all the time, “don’t translate. You’ll remember it more if you’ve worked hard to discover the answer.”

Our sense of achievement is directly related to our effort.  It is much more satisfying to complete something, reach a goal, finish a project when you know you worked hard, put your best effort into it and couldn’t have done more.

That’s kind of how I feel about this A-Z challenge. When I started out, I wasn’t even sure I could or would be able to do it. It was something I wanted to do to see if I could. Could I write a blog nearly every day for a month? Could I let go the idea that it needs to be perfect and edited and thought over for days? Could I simply write and put it out there day after day? Turns out I could. And I did. And it kind of feels like reaching the top of a mountain, looking down and appreciating where I’ve come even more because of the struggle it took.

I’m glad I did it. It feels great to start something and finish it. It gives me a sense of accomplishment I will carry with me. It lets me know I can do anything I set my mind to. I like to have reminders like that, little challenges that keep me going.  I am happy to be finished and able to focus my attention on other writing, namely, my novel which I have sadly neglected this month. I feel, however, that the brief hiatus will renew me and bring me back fresh to my novel, ready and raring to go.

Semester at Sea

Ours was the Millennium voyage, the Mr. MOB voyage, the CNN voyage, or otherwise known as the voyage that changed my life.   We were going around the world, literally. A fact we reminded ourselves of in every port as we posed for pictures in front of the Great Pyramids, the Taj Mahal, the Great Wall of China, with our arms above our heads in a circle; clearly the universal sign for ‘going around the world.’ 

 I knew it was a significant time of my live, I’m sure I had an inkling that it could be life changing, but I was 21 years old.  There was no way to know how truly significant it would be then. I’m not sure, even now, I fully understand the impact taking that voyage has had on me. If I had known, would I have done anything differently?

  I’m not sure how many countries I had visited when I stepped foot onto the ship, but I know I added 10 more in those three months and gained a desire and zest for travel that cannot be quenched. I am now at 43 countries and all seven continents. My ultimate goal is to travel to every country in the world.  It’s lofty I know, but so was my goal of going on Semester at Sea, and that happened.

 After Semester at Sea, I moved to Chicagofor a few years after graduating college. Then I took a TEFL course and moved to Santiago, Chile, where I taught for a year and a half. I returned to the states to get my master’s in education and then was off again; this time to Comayagua, Honduras for a year to teach high school.  I never wanted to teach before, but after Semester at Sea I knew I wanted to travel, and teaching became the way I could do that. I continue to teach ESLas CSU and remain in an international community while residing in the States, something I didn’t know was possible.   All of this, I am certain, is not a path I would have chosen were it not for one particular voyage.

 And so, when a good friend from the ship, Ron, recently posted a video of our semester around the world, a compilation of our time on the ship, which we affectionately called The Great White Mother, and our time around the various 10 countries we visited, I was in tears remembering the incredible times we had. I became so nostalgic it hurt.

 On the ship and in the months and years that followed our arrival back in the States I vowed that I would one day return to The Great White Mother, this time as a teacher.  It was pretty hard being back in the States and setting another goal of returning to the ship made things a little easier. Before disembarking at our final port in Miami, I learned that this difficulty returning home had a name, reverse culture shock. I had never heard of such a thing, yet it was something I would become very familiar with with every journey I would return ‘home’ from. It never gets easier.

 It is no longer a possibility to return to The Great White Mother, as she has been put to rest wherever it is great ships go.  But there is another ship and another voyage, isn’t there always? Ron’s video and perhaps the new year has let me return to that goal.  How did I ever get away from it?

 Directly after watching the video I got on the Semester at Sea website, well that’s not true, directly after I went outside to smoke a cigarette and compose myself. I was at work after all.  Directly after that cigarette, I came back in and got on the website. I looked at the different employment opportunities. I applied to one. I found four others I could also possibly qualify for. 

 It’s funny the way tiny reminders can bring you back to giant goals.  For me, seeing all those old friends, dear countries and the ship brought me back to a time in my life that I can now, 15 years later, say was perfect. It will always be the time in my life to which everything else is compared, and generally pales.

 I know I cannot recreate it. I’ve thought that before about returning to Chile.  And as another good friend from that time in my life pointed out, when I texted him to tell him I wanted to return to Semester as Sea and therefore needed to get my Phd, “Would they really let a PhD student go? It wouldn’t be quite the same.” I had to clarify for him, that getting my PhD would be the means by which I would become a professor on the ship, not a student.  And no, it wouldn’t be the same. Of course it wouldn’t.

 If I had known, would I have done anything differently? Probably not.  That’s the problem, isn’t it?  We’ve no way of knowing exactly what this moment or that journey is going to be for us.  We can only hope that some day, long after it is all over, we can look back and remember it the way we hoped we would before we ever started.

Semester at Sea

Ours was the Millennium voyage, the Mr. MOB voyage, the CNN voyage, or otherwise known as the voyage that changed my life.   We were going around the world, literally. A fact we reminded ourselves of in every port as we posed for pictures in front of the Great Pyramids, the Taj Mahal, the Great Wall of China, with our arms above our heads in a circle; clearly the universal sign for ‘going around the world.’ 

 I knew it was a significant time of my live, I’m sure I had an inkling that it could be life changing, but I was 21 years old.  There was no way to know how truly significant it would be then. I’m not sure, even now, I fully understand the impact taking that voyage has had on me. If I had known, would I have done anything differently?

  I’m not sure how many countries I had visited when I stepped foot onto the ship, but I know I added 10 more in those three months and gained a desire and zest for travel that cannot be quenched. I am now at 43 countries and all seven continents. My ultimate goal is to travel to every country in the world.  It’s lofty I know, but so was my goal of going on Semester at Sea, and that happened.

 After Semester at Sea, I moved to Chicago for a few years after graduating college. Then I took a TEFL course and moved to Santiago, Chile, where I taught for a year and a half. I returned to the states to get my master’s in education and then was off again; this time to Comayagua, Honduras for a year to teach high school.  I never wanted to teach before, but after Semester at Sea I knew I wanted to travel, and teaching became the way I could do that. I continue to teach ESL as CSU and remain in an international community while residing in the States, something I didn’t know was possible.   All of this, I am certain, is not a path I would have chosen were it not for one particular voyage.

 And so, when a good friend from the ship, Ron, recently posted a video of our semester around the world, a compilation of our time on the ship, which we affectionately called The Great White Mother, and our time around the various 10 countries we visited, I was in tears remembering the incredible times we had. I became so nostalgic it hurt.

 On the ship and in the months and years that followed our arrival back in the States I vowed that I would one day return to The Great White Mother, this time as a teacher.  It was pretty hard being back in the States and setting another goal of returning to the ship made things a little easier. Before disembarking at our final port in Miami, I learned that this difficulty returning home had a name, reverse culture shock. I had never heard of such a thing, yet it was something I would become very familiar with with every journey I would return ‘home’ from. It never gets easier.

 It is no longer a possibility to return to The Great White Mother, as she has been put to rest wherever it is great ships go.  But there is another ship and another voyage, isn’t there always? Ron’s video and perhaps the new year has let me return to that goal.  How did I ever get away from it?

 Directly after watching the video I got on the Semester at Sea website, well that’s not true, directly after I went outside to smoke a cigarette and compose myself. I was at work after all.  Directly after that cigarette, I came back in and got on the website. I looked at the different employment opportunities. I applied to one. I found four others I could also possibly qualify for. 

 It’s funny the way tiny reminders can bring you back to giant goals.  For me, seeing all those old friends, dear countries and the ship brought me back to a time in my life that I can now, 15 years later, say was perfect. It will always be the time in my life to which everything else is compared, and generally pales.

 I know I cannot recreate it. I’ve thought that before about returning to Chile.  And as another good friend from that time in my life pointed out, when I texted him to tell him I wanted to return to Semester as Sea and therefore needed to get my Phd, “Would they really let a PhD student go? It wouldn’t be quite the same.” I had to clarify for him, that getting my PhD would be the means by which I would become a professor on the ship, not a student.  And no, it wouldn’t be the same. Of course it wouldn’t.

 If I had known, would I have done anything differently? Probably not.  That’s the problem, isn’t it?  We’ve no way of knowing exactly what this moment or that journey is going to be for us.  We can only hope that some day, long after it is all over, we can look back and remember it the way we hoped we would before we ever started.

#7

There is a postcard I have framed which I keep in my bathroom. It is a daily reminder of a specific goal and a dream completed.  When I start to feel defeated I can simply look at that postcard and remember all that I am capable of.

The postcard is one I sent to myself. It is not so much the message I wrote, as the place from which I sent it that is important.  I purchased the postcard in Buenos Aries.  It has a beautiful picture of what I later learned are called jacarandas. They are these gorgeous, purple flowered trees that just fill up the space with purple. I bought the postcard because it reminded me of my time living in Chile (another dream realized).

I lived near Parque Las Lillas in Provedencia, Santiago. More often than not, I could be found in this park on any given weekend day. I might be reading, writing or playing Frisbee, (apparently a completely American pastime if I trusted the stares we received as we played.) 

I remember one day in particular.  While I’d always enjoyed the abundant purple flowers, I gained a new appreciation for them on this day.  It must have been nearing the end of summer because as I approached the park I was overcome by the blanket of these flowers covering the ground. I could see no green, only purple. Nature so often surprises.   I remember walking through the park to my usual spot and feeling incredibly calm, immensely at peace.  I sat down at my spot; not bothering to spread the blanket I had brought. I ran my hands through the flowers like one might do to sand. I was overcome by the vastness of purple, the beauty of it all.

There were moments in that city when calm and peace often escaped me. I remember feeling so grateful for this little park so close to the city, this refuge from the chaos. It was like something changed that day at the park, like somehow I knew from that day forward I could make my own peace; I could find my place of calm.

When I saw the postcard in Buenos Aries I had to buy it. It was such a lovely reminder of that perfect day and, really, my entire time in Chile.  My plan was simply to frame it once I returned to the states.  I hoped it would be a simple reminder of my life abroad.  But as so often happens with plans, that postcard had greater destinations.

In the postcard, the trees line either side of the path and the path is of course covered in that purple blanket.  Along the path walks a person with a red umbrella. The face is covered by the umbrella so I do not know whether the person is coming or going. Often I imagine it is me.

The postcard was waiting for me in the states, waiting for me to return from the place I had sent it.  It made it to the states much quicker than I. But that was the final plan.  It is a long way from Antarctica to the United States after all.

I can distinctly remember the day I set the goal to travel to Antarctica.  Rather, the goal was to travel to all seven continents, though I knew that Antarctica would be the most difficult to reach. 

I was on a ship, traveling to 10 different countries.  I was a student on Semester at Sea, a goal I had set over eight years prior. It was a goal I had worked toward through high school and college. It was the most significant goal I had ever achieved at the time. It gave me the confidence to know I could do anything, and I reveled in this newfound knowledge.  It was like I had figured out a secret and I was ready to test it again and again.

My cabin was on the Bali deck, the lowest deck before the staff. No windows (but we still could see). Simply put, we were the poor kids.  And we bonded in this knowledge.   On day one, after the lifeboat drill and the mandatory running around the ship and exploring, we had a Bali deck meeting.  We all gathered at the bottom of the stairs, sitting cross legged on the floor.  Our resident assistant, Heather, led the meeting.

She started with a ‘get to know you’ game I have since used in all my classes on the first day.  It is called two truths and one lie, perhaps you know it?  Students had to come up with two truths and one lie about themselves and the rest of us had to guess which was the lie.  I do not remember which was my lie and it has changed since anyway, but I remember one of my truths. I had said that after this trip around the world, I would have traveled to five of the seven continents.  That was a pretty big feat at only 21 years of age. I was proud and excited to share this realization with my fellow Bali mates. But instantly, as the idea for my truth formed in my head, I was unsatisfied.  Why settle for only five? There was so much more to see, I thought.  And so it was, in the moment of revealing my truth to my fellow shipmates, whilst sailing around the world completing a forever goal, I formed my next goal; I would travel to all seven continents.

I was never worried about not achieving it. In fact that thought never crossed my mind. I was so confident in my ability to make my goals a reality, after all, I knew the secret now. Traveling around the world was proof that I could do anything.  I lived for a long while off of the high of that dream becoming a reality. I merely had to think about that to know that I could do it!  It was simply a matter of when and how, not a matter of if.

Chile, or rather, South America was my sixth continent, as you may have guessed.  And it wasn’t until about halfway through my time there that I started to realize, as I planned my trip south, that Antarctica wasn’t too far away.

Before I had left to travel south through Chile and Argentina I had attempted to secure passage on a navel ship to Antarctica.  The idea was to reach Ushuaia, Argentina, El fin del mundo (the end of the world, and only if you consider Antarctica the beginning), and possibly be a deckhand on a navel ship. My boyfriend at the time, tried to help me.  He was Chilean and had some connections he had written.  They corresponded for a while.  I was very hopeful for a while too.  But I headed south, with nothing coming to fruition and having broken up with my boyfriend. I was on my own.

As I traveled south that month, I began to hear more and more about last minute deals to Antarctica. In hostels, I would overhear travelers traveling back up from Ushuaia talking about their amazing voyage to Antarctica. My heart would beat irregularly, a common side effect of realizing how close I am to my goal.  I was not shy. I would quickly introduce myself and begin overwhelming them with questions.  The answer was always the same, go there, wait. Be ready to pay $2,000. 

I had a credit card. I had never used it my whole time in Chile but I figured this is why we have credit cards.  I had time. I was only a month into my two and a half month trip. I was ready to change all plans if it meant I could make it to Antarctica.

I was about halfway from Santiago and halfway to Ushuaia. I was so ready, so giddy, so impatient to be there, that instead of continuing by road and ‘seeing the sights’ as I had planned, I purchased a plane ticket, luckily under $100. I took a rather scary puddle jumper airplane. I was on day two of a cold that wouldn’t be finished for another four days.  My budget was not happy with me.

Though I did not hesitate, I was hesitant. There is a feeling you get when you are so close to your dream, it feels a bit like disbelief, you worry that perhaps someone might grab the cookie that is dangling in front of you and laugh in your face. Silly girl, this is too good to be true.

During the bumpy plane ride I contemplated the merits of my decision. Was I completely crazy?  What exactly did I think I was doing? Nothing was certain. I could fly all the way there and find out there were no more voyages for the season, or they might be all full, or they might not take a credit card, or it might be even more than $2000, or they might not take Americans.  All the silly, foolish thoughts one has when one makes such a rash decision.  I didn’t let myself think of what would happen if I actually did make it on a ship; that would have induced that irregular heart beat which I wasn’t sure I could handle on this already shaky plane ride.

The plane landed. I took a taxi to a random hostel. I dropped off my bag and immediately went walking. I was determined to find these last minute deals so many travelers were telling me about. It was drizzling rain.  It was a dark and gloomy mid afternoon in Ushuaia. I was coughing and sneezing.  Had I not been on such a high from the giddiness of being so close to my goal, I would have been miserable. 

It didn’t take long. There seemed to be a travel agency on every street. I walked into the first one I came upon, but not before taking a deep breath, letting it go and making a mental note of this moment.  This was the moment it was all about to happen. I was consciously, vividly aware that I would walk out those doors different from when I walked in.  There are certain defining moments in your life, some come and go with little to no recognition at the time. They are only felt upon reflection, perhaps years later, yes, in fact that was when everything changed, you realize. This was not that way. This was clear from the very beginning.  I was so acutely aware that I wanted to, maybe needed to, take that moment and remember what life was like before.

I walked in. I was nervous, as I often am when I know that a dream is so near.  I knew that there was no turning back, and though that wasn’t what I wanted to do, there is a distinct feeling of fear and an overwhelming sense of ‘Oh my god!’ There is a wavering in your mind, a wondering, is this really what you want?  Though you spend so much of your life wishing and dreaming, planning and scheming to make it happen, at the time it is about to happen, you need to contemplate it one more time, weight the pros and cons of this decision.   Though what could the cons possibly be?  You get to this quite quickly and carry on as planned.

I remember calling my mom. I remember thinking how convenient is was that the travel agency was also an internet/phone center.  I told her I was going to Antarctica by asking her to please open and pay the credit card bill that would be arriving shortly at her house. I promised I would pay her back, and I did, within my first two months back in the states.  I was crying when I ended the phone call. Talking to my mother made it final. I was going. She knew. I was going.

The lady behind the desk ran my credit card. I was still crying. I was not ashamed, rather I kept smiling at her when she looked at me in confusion.  Crying is how I show just about every emotion and I do not do it shyly.

I walked out of the agency. My tears mixed with the rain as I quickly walked back to my hostel. I remember thinking I should celebrate, enter  the next bar I came upon and tell whoever would listen.  But I was tired and sick.  I went back to my hostel, looked at the credit card receipt for the hundredth time and recall thinking, I will have this forever, it will be the first thing I put in my scrapbook. This is the beginning.

 I had to wait nine days for the next voyage.  It wasn’t difficult.  After you wait over six years for something, not knowing when it will ever happen, often thinking you will do it when you are old and gray, but you’ll do it someday, nine days is nothing.  Not to mention there are worse places to explore than Ushuaia. I spent my time discovering the different paths and wildlife in Tierra De Fuego. I bought a week pass and went nearly every day. I moved hostels for a more lively, friendly one and in all my time spent socializing before the voyage I met no one who would be going. In fact everyone was in awe and quite jealous of my venture.  As a traveler, there is nothing more satisfying than going somewhere few have ever been.

The day we set sail there was a double rainbow above us as we all assembled for the lifeboat drill.  I admit, I cried.  What better way to send us on our way.    The Drake passage was eventful, nauseating, and Dramamine filled, though I am quite certain I did not complain once.  Who can complain when you are sailing to Antarctica?

Before I left, I gathered the necessary items to make a sign. It held one number; the number seven.  It was my plan to have my picture taken with it the moment I stepped onto the continent.  I would eventually put it on the cover of the book I would write about my travel experiences. The next goal was already formed. Apparently that is how I work. Before I had even accomplished this dream I was beginning the next.  That is how life should be led.

That picture was taken. One of me alone with my number seven, yes, tears in my eyes, and one with the other five folks for whom Antarctica was number seven. Apparently, amongst serious travelers, there is little no one else has done. I was, however, the only American in the picture.

I mailed the postcard from Port Lockroy, our second to last landing. This is what I wrote on it… “Caro! You did it! Your dream has been realized! Now on to the next… the book! You can do it, you have lived it! Do it! Antarctica was so far away and now you’re walking on it! The book can and will be realized too! Dreams come true and you know it! Finish the book! – Kari.” That was it, complete will punctuation. Give me a break, I am allowed to be sickly, sadly cheesy when sending myself a postcard from Antarctica, if there are exceptions to cheese, this was one of them.

I was the last one on the ship after our last landing. The crew and my shipmates conceded me the privilege.  Apparently if you talk long enough about how this was your dream, people start to think it’s pretty special.  I was grateful to them, I considered it an honor, to be nearly alone on that continent and say my goodbye to it. I took my time.  I had to be told to leave. I had fallen in love with the place, with the dream. I rode back to the ship in the zodiac with just me and the driver. My eyes didn’t leave the spot I had just.

I see that postcard everyday, five or six times a day probably.  I think about Antarctica and all I did to get there everyday. I remember how encouraged I was, how motivated and  how determined I was.  I take that with me always. There comes a time when you do something so crazy, so out there, so impossible, that everything after it seems incredibly, easily attainable.

#7

There is a postcard I have framed which I keep in my bathroom. It is a daily reminder of a specific goal and a dream completed.  When I start to feel defeated I can simply look at that postcard and remember all that I am capable of.

The postcard is one I sent to myself. It is not so much the message I wrote, as the place from which I sent it that is important.  I purchased the postcard in Buenos Aries.  It has a beautiful picture of what I later learned are called jacarandas. They are these gorgeous, purple flowered trees that just fill up the space with purple. I bought the postcard because it reminded me of my time living in Chile (another dream realized).

I lived near Parque Las Lillas in Provedencia, Santiago. More often than not, I could be found in this park on any given weekend day. I might be reading, writing or playing Frisbee, (apparently a completely American pastime if I trusted the stares we received as we played.) 

I remember one day in particular.  While I’d always enjoyed the abundant purple flowers, I gained a new appreciation for them on this day.  It must have been nearing the end of summer because as I approached the park I was overcome by the blanket of these flowers covering the ground. I could see no green, only purple. Nature so often surprises.   I remember walking through the park to my usual spot and feeling incredibly calm, immensely at peace.  I sat down at my spot; not bothering to spread the blanket I had brought. I ran my hands through the flowers like one might do to sand. I was overcome by the vastness of purple, the beauty of it all.

There were moments in that city when calm and peace often escaped me. I remember feeling so grateful for this little park so close to the city, this refuge from the chaos. It was like something changed that day at the park, like somehow I knew from that day forward I could make my own peace; I could find my place of calm.

When I saw the postcard in Buenos Aries I had to buy it. It was such a lovely reminder of that perfect day and, really, my entire time in Chile.  My plan was simply to frame it once I returned to the states.  I hoped it would be a simple reminder of my life abroad.  But as so often happens with plans, that postcard had greater destinations.

In the postcard, the trees line either side of the path and the path is of course covered in that purple blanket.  Along the path walks a person with a red umbrella. The face is covered by the umbrella so I do not know whether the person is coming or going. Often I imagine it is me.

The postcard was waiting for me in the states, waiting for me to return from the place I had sent it.  It made it to the states much quicker than I. But that was the final plan.  It is a long way from Antarctica to the United States after all.

I can distinctly remember the day I set the goal to travel to Antarctica.  Rather, the goal was to travel to all seven continents, though I knew that Antarctica would be the most difficult to reach. 

I was on a ship, traveling to 10 different countries.  I was a student on Semester at Sea, a goal I had set over eight years prior. It was a goal I had worked toward through high school and college. It was the most significant goal I had ever achieved at the time. It gave me the confidence to know I could do anything, and I reveled in this newfound knowledge.  It was like I had figured out a secret and I was ready to test it again and again.

My cabin was on the Bali deck, the lowest deck before the staff. No windows (but we still could see). Simply put, we were the poor kids.  And we bonded in this knowledge.   On day one, after the lifeboat drill and the mandatory running around the ship and exploring, we had a Bali deck meeting.  We all gathered at the bottom of the stairs, sitting cross legged on the floor.  Our resident assistant, Heather, led the meeting.

She started with a ‘get to know you’ game I have since used in all my classes on the first day.  It is called two truths and one lie, perhaps you know it?  Students had to come up with two truths and one lie about themselves and the rest of us had to guess which was the lie.  I do not remember which was my lie and it has changed since anyway, but I remember one of my truths. I had said that after this trip around the world, I would have traveled to five of the seven continents.  That was a pretty big feat at only 21 years of age. I was proud and excited to share this realization with my fellow Bali mates. But instantly, as the idea for my truth formed in my head, I was unsatisfied.  Why settle for only five? There was so much more to see, I thought.  And so it was, in the moment of revealing my truth to my fellow shipmates, whilst sailing around the world completing a forever goal, I formed my next goal; I would travel to all seven continents.

I was never worried about not achieving it. In fact that thought never crossed my mind. I was so confident in my ability to make my goals a reality, after all, I knew the secret now. Traveling around the world was proof that I could do anything.  I lived for a long while off of the high of that dream becoming a reality. I merely had to think about that to know that I could do it!  It was simply a matter of when and how, not a matter of if.

Chile, or rather, South America was my sixth continent, as you may have guessed.  And it wasn’t until about halfway through my time there that I started to realize, as I planned my trip south, that Antarctica wasn’t too far away.

Before I had left to travel south through Chile and Argentina I had attempted to secure passage on a navel ship to Antarctica.  The idea was to reach Ushuaia, Argentina, El fin del mundo (the end of the world, and only if you consider Antarctica the beginning), and possibly be a deckhand on a navel ship. My boyfriend at the time, tried to help me.  He was Chilean and had some connections he had written.  They corresponded for a while.  I was very hopeful for a while too.  But I headed south, with nothing coming to fruition and having broken up with my boyfriend. I was on my own.

As I traveled south that month, I began to hear more and more about last minute deals to Antarctica. In hostels, I would overhear travelers traveling back up from Ushuaia talking about their amazing voyage to Antarctica. My heart would beat irregularly, a common side effect of realizing how close I am to my goal.  I was not shy. I would quickly introduce myself and begin overwhelming them with questions.  The answer was always the same, go there, wait. Be ready to pay $2,000. 

I had a credit card. I had never used it my whole time in Chile but I figured this is why we have credit cards.  I had time. I was only a month into my two and a half month trip. I was ready to change all plans if it meant I could make it to Antarctica.

I was about halfway from Santiago and halfway to Ushuaia. I was so ready, so giddy, so impatient to be there, that instead of continuing by road and ‘seeing the sights’ as I had planned, I purchased a plane ticket, luckily under $100. I took a rather scary puddle jumper airplane. I was on day two of a cold that wouldn’t be finished for another four days.  My budget was not happy with me.

Though I did not hesitate, I was hesitant. There is a feeling you get when you are so close to your dream, it feels a bit like disbelief, you worry that perhaps someone might grab the cookie that is dangling in front of you and laugh in your face. Silly girl, this is too good to be true.

During the bumpy plane ride I contemplated the merits of my decision. Was I completely crazy?  What exactly did I think I was doing? Nothing was certain. I could fly all the way there and find out there were no more voyages for the season, or they might be all full, or they might not take a credit card, or it might be even more than $2000, or they might not take Americans.  All the silly, foolish thoughts one has when one makes such a rash decision.  I didn’t let myself think of what would happen if I actually did make it on a ship; that would have induced that irregular heart beat which I wasn’t sure I could handle on this already shaky plane ride.

The plane landed. I took a taxi to a random hostel. I dropped off my bag and immediately went walking. I was determined to find these last minute deals so many travelers were telling me about. It was drizzling rain.  It was a dark and gloomy mid afternoon in Ushuaia. I was coughing and sneezing.  Had I not been on such a high from the giddiness of being so close to my goal, I would have been miserable. 

It didn’t take long. There seemed to be a travel agency on every street. I walked into the first one I came upon, but not before taking a deep breath, letting it go and making a mental note of this moment.  This was the moment it was all about to happen. I was consciously, vividly aware that I would walk out those doors different from when I walked in.  There are certain defining moments in your life, some come and go with little to no recognition at the time. They are only felt upon reflection, perhaps years later, yes, in fact that was when everything changed, you realize. This was not that way. This was clear from the very beginning.  I was so acutely aware that I wanted to, maybe needed to, take that moment and remember what life was like before.

I walked in. I was nervous, as I often am when I know that a dream is so near.  I knew that there was no turning back, and though that wasn’t what I wanted to do, there is a distinct feeling of fear and an overwhelming sense of ‘Oh my god!’ There is a wavering in your mind, a wondering, is this really what you want?  Though you spend so much of your life wishing and dreaming, planning and scheming to make it happen, at the time it is about to happen, you need to contemplate it one more time, weight the pros and cons of this decision.   Though what could the cons possibly be?  You get to this quite quickly and carry on as planned.

I remember calling my mom. I remember thinking how convenient is was that the travel agency was also an internet/phone center.  I told her I was going to Antarctica by asking her to please open and pay the credit card bill that would be arriving shortly at her house. I promised I would pay her back, and I did, within my first two months back in the states.  I was crying when I ended the phone call. Talking to my mother made it final. I was going. She knew. I was going.

The lady behind the desk ran my credit card. I was still crying. I was not ashamed, rather I kept smiling at her when she looked at me in confusion.  Crying is how I show just about every emotion and I do not do it shyly.

I walked out of the agency. My tears mixed with the rain as I quickly walked back to my hostel. I remember thinking I should celebrate, enter  the next bar I came upon and tell whoever would listen.  But I was tired and sick.  I went back to my hostel, looked at the credit card receipt for the hundredth time and recall thinking, I will have this forever, it will be the first thing I put in my scrapbook. This is the beginning.

 I had to wait nine days for the next voyage.  It wasn’t difficult.  After you wait over six years for something, not knowing when it will ever happen, often thinking you will do it when you are old and gray, but you’ll do it someday, nine days is nothing.  Not to mention there are worse places to explore than Ushuaia. I spent my time discovering the different paths and wildlife in Tierra De Fuego. I bought a week pass and went nearly every day. I moved hostels for a more lively, friendly one and in all my time spent socializing before the voyage I met no one who would be going. In fact everyone was in awe and quite jealous of my venture.  As a traveler, there is nothing more satisfying than going somewhere few have ever been.

The day we set sail there was a double rainbow above us as we all assembled for the lifeboat drill.  I admit, I cried.  What better way to send us on our way.    The Drake passage was eventful, nauseating, and Dramamine filled, though I am quite certain I did not complain once.  Who can complain when you are sailing to Antarctica?

Before I left, I gathered the necessary items to make a sign. It held one number; the number seven.  It was my plan to have my picture taken with it the moment I stepped onto the continent.  I would eventually put it on the cover of the book I would write about my travel experiences. The next goal was already formed. Apparently that is how I work. Before I had even accomplished this dream I was beginning the next.  That is how life should be led.

That picture was taken. One of me alone with my number seven, yes, tears in my eyes, and one with the other five folks for whom Antarctica was number seven. Apparently, amongst serious travelers, there is little no one else has done. I was, however, the only American in the picture.

I mailed the postcard from Port Lockroy, our second to last landing. This is what I wrote on it… “Caro! You did it! Your dream has been realized! Now on to the next… the book! You can do it, you have lived it! Do it! Antarctica was so far away and now you’re walking on it! The book can and will be realized too! Dreams come true and you know it! Finish the book! – Kari.” That was it, complete will punctuation. Give me a break, I am allowed to be sickly, sadly cheesy when sending myself a postcard from Antarctica, if there are exceptions to cheese, this was one of them.

I was the last one on the ship after our last landing. The crew and my shipmates conceded me the privilege.  Apparently if you talk long enough about how this was your dream, people start to think it’s pretty special.  I was grateful to them, I considered it an honor, to be nearly alone on that continent and say my goodbye to it. I took my time.  I had to be told to leave. I had fallen in love with the place, with the dream. I rode back to the ship in the zodiac with just me and the driver. My eyes didn’t leave the spot I had just.

I see that postcard everyday, five or six times a day probably.  I think about Antarctica and all I did to get there everyday. I remember how encouraged I was, how motivated and  how determined I was.  I take that with me always. There comes a time when you do something so crazy, so out there, so impossible, that everything after it seems incredibly, easily attainable.