Fertility Nation

I leave the work dinner early because I have to take my shots. "What's the rush?" asks Roee, my colleague who heads up technology. And it spills out because we're all having such a good time my sudden departure does warrant some explanation.

Fabricating one doesn't occur to me. As I open my mouth, I hesitate only briefly before realizing there's nothing to hide here among the Israeli colleagues who are by now also friends. So I tell him frankly: "We just started IVF."

Without skipping a beat and requiring no further explanation he reaches across the table to press my hand, "Wow. Good luck."

Welcome to Fertility Nation.

Most people know Israel as Start Up Nation, that hotbed of technology innovation and serial entrepreneurs. What they don't usually know is that it's also a place that values a healthy pregnancy almost as much as the successful exit. Though it becomes obvious if you take a quick look around. Pregnant women are everywhere. In a country this small they stand out in surprising numbers... in the cafes, at the shuk, on the streets of Tel Aviv on a leisurely Friday morning.

This pro-baby reality was on my list of good reasons to come in considering whether or not to move to Israel when I did. On the verge of 40 I believed Israel would be the best place to decide about motherhood, especially if I was to go at it alone. I picked my 40th birthday as my deadline for a decision which became irrelevant shortly after arriving because that's when I met T.

So here T and I are, embarked on the long and windy path to pregnancy together. And thank goodness for that because long and windy it is. As fluent as I am, my Hebrew is null and void in the face of Israel's social health system with its maze of administrative policies, loopholes, counter loopholes, inside connections and strong personality types. T navigates it with the ease and comfort of a native virtuoso, complementing his perfect Hebrew with endless reserves of patience and fortitude. That he is equipped with a car also helps take the edge off when we suddenly discover we need to go here, then there, and back again per doctor's orders.

I fully embrace the process while oftentimes feeling like I've fallen down the rabbit hole. Between the constant prodding of tests to check my follicles and hormone levels; and subsequent waiting for the phone call with orders for what to do next ("don't call us, we'll call you"), we are at the mercy of higher forces steering us towards the pregnancy finishing line. We follow along willingly and in full confidence everyone involved is clearly on our side. In fact, all of Israel feels somehow in on our mission to have a baby.

"Be'ezrat hashem," says the nurse at the 24 hour clinic we go to the night we get the phone call with instructions to start taking the medication Right Now. She's just finished teaching us how to dose and administer the 2 injections I need to take every night until further notice. When I joke about the size of the needles, she administers a gentler reminder about the reason we're doing this at all.

"Don't forget why you're here," she says. "At the end of all this, you're going to have a baby. Be'ezrat hashem." Literally translated: With God's help.

We've been hearing those words a lot lately, alternated with be'atzlacha, good luck. The first time I just sheepishly smiled and said thanks. Since then I've come to realize it's part of the virtual support system and positive energy that's being generated to see me through to the other side. In this context, be'atzlacha is simply what people say to an aspiring mother as she's leaving the pharmacy, clinic or doctor's office. It's what work colleagues say when you find yourself deciding to bring them in on something people in the States might consider T.M.I.

In Fertility Nation that's not the case. At times surreal at times comical, the process towards pregnancy is also full of revelation with every conscious step we take with increasing yearning towards something that will change our lives forever. Be'atzlacha has become our new mantra. Now I like hearing it at every turn.

A Year's Time

Today marks a year since I left New York and a lot has happened since then. Here's what's changed:

I moved to Tel Aviv
Entered the Israeli startup scene
Fell in love with a guy
Married him
Visited 3 different countries
Found a great job
Did the honeymoon thing

When I think of the difference this year has made I am astounded by all that. Usually it's the silent swoosh of another year passing with accelerating speed that astounds me instead. This has been happening more or less since my 20s and throughout my 30s when school, semesters and summer vacations gave way to the flow of Life As Is. Milestones happened along the way but never so many that were so meaningful in the mere span of 12 fleeting months.

There's a nice saying that reminds us life is what you make it. Each day counts because even though 24 hours may pass in a flash they add up to 24 hours. And the next 24 hours after that. So what you do with that time matters, including working hard, eating right, loving well and taking leaps of faith. For me coming to Israel was a leap of faith.

So today, to mark my one year anniversary since I arrived, we went hiking. Or so that was the plan. Now that I've been in Israel one year and feel like I'm settling in I want to get back to the things I love from before. Art. Reading. Teaching Yoga. Hiking.

Used to be I hiked all the time. Upstate New York, Patagonia, Colorado, the Palisades, Nepal. I have a list I'm pretty proud of but I haven't hiked much since coming to Israel. So today was a sort of new beginning. Also it's Saturday, the Israeli "Day of Rest."

We picked Nahal Taninim which loosely translated from Hebrew means "Alligator River." Israel is a beautiful country, from its European-style rolling hills up North to its Biblical desert landscape down south. Nahal Taninim is somewhere in the middle, a noncommittal 30 minute drive from Tel Aviv in the Carmel region, near Haifa. The trail itself is small and full of other people who had the same idea about how to spend their day not resting. That's the thing about hiking in Israel. Israelis love their country and getting to know it is popular among outdoor enthusiasts, youth groups, families, and all other citizens alike. That makes for a lot of people on one trail in a country this small, especially when that trail is considered "family-friendly."

Nahal Taninim ends up being nothing like the hikes I've experienced before or what I imagined for the day. But we are with some friends so we don't stop there. We end up at another park after that, marvel at its beautifully landscaped grounds and gardens of fresh herbs, then end up at one of Tel Aviv's best steakhouses. By the time we sit down to eat we must've "hiked" about 3 km.

But for a one year anniversary celebration of sorts it isn't bad. Nothing like what I imagined it would be but fun and full of laughs. Fall is just beginning and a cool breeze helped temper the still hot sun. We saw an ancient Roman aqueduct and the steak was delicious.

Mostly, today was pure pleasure in a series of moments that wouldn't have existed if not for every step and every minute that came along the way. These 12 months before could have just passed me by but they brought me here, to this new previously unimaginable life that I love. As the writer Milan Kundera says,

"There is nothing more obvious, more tangible... than the present moment. And yet it eludes us completely. All the sadness of life lies in that fact."

We can grow heavy with such sadness. Or we can learn to take advantage of the "obvious." And revel in it.

Morning window

This is the view I snapped from my bed this morning. I lay there thinking about how much it had changed in less then a year. How the one before had been my view for 11 whole years before I moved. The window then hanging over to my right, shuttered against the sound of West 60th and Broadway, and covered by almost always closed dark green Venetian blinds. There was no point in opening them, as the only thing to see was the Time Warner building blocking any glimpse of the park (though sometimes I did lift the shade to see if people were carrying umbrellas). Walking up in my shuttered room was like waking up in a dim cozy cocoon before descending 11 floors down to face the city day.

Now my morning window lies over to my left. And is almost always at least a little open so I can feel the breeze and hear the birds in the trees right outside. Our window points towards the sea and even though our apartment is too far and too low for a view, you can still feel it in the air. But  my favorite thing about the window is the birds. If I peer out I can see them in the branches, nonchalantly looking about as they make their festive noise.

The new window is indicative of everything else that has changed too. The rhythms and patterns of my days. The constant sunshine with which they begin this time of year in Tel Aviv. The way I move laterally to get to work across the apartment instead of down to the street and then the subway further below. Everything is quieter now too, the forever longing of New York replaced with the calm contentment of knowing better where I belong. There is still so much I need to do to feel truly settled here but I know that it will come.

In the meantime, there's the view. 

Chag Sameach and Happy Spring!

This is my nephew Ariel (aka the whirling dervish). 

This will be our first Passover together now that I’ve moved to Israel. Since I arrived he makes me happy regularly by reminding me about the joy of fresh starts. Watching his reactions to a new discovery or game or word is a lesson each time.

In this picture - taken on his first trip to the Negev this past weekend - Ariel is discovering the desert wind (during a sandstorm). 

With Passover comes the fresh start that is Spring. Israel is in full bloom. Houses are being cleared and cleansed of bread crumbs and dust bunnies. And this eve we will commemorate the Jews' freedom from slavery. 

It is a time for joy!

May you find it in every corner of your life this Passover...and, like Ariel, every day thereafter. 

With love and best wishes, 

Keren

I don't want another story.

tzury asked me to marry him last night. he asked me just like that and i said yes. it was not a grandiose pre-meditated moment, far from anything i had ever imagined. there was not even a ring. 

i said yes then grew quiet, probably from the shock of how far the reality of the moment was from my imagining of it. i considered whether years of American culture and reality TV had effectively taken their toll: was i so deeply brainwashed by the tales of elaborate proposals and glamorous rings that i could not just revel in the beauty of this quite different approach by someone i simply wanted to spend the rest of my life with?

i hated to think that was so. i imagined the question that would invariably follow the news of my engagement to the man i loved - "how did he do it?" - and wondered what i would say. 

"um we were laughing about something in bed. and um chatting. and then he asked me." 

a few things came before. a wedding and a funeral, to be precise (no joke). two consecutive days of emotional intensity set the stage for the proposal that followed one late Wednesday night, as anti-climactic as it was. 

although the truth of the matter is that maybe anti-climatic is fitting for us. having met barely 2 months ago, then moving in together barely 1 month after that, people thought we were crazy to be going so fast. how could we be so sure, especially as set as we were in our independent ways at our age? did we even really know each other yet? 

but those 2 months were full of solid moments of positive reinforcement. we cooked and cleared closet space. met each others' friends and family (including over Skype). we visited Ikea and spent 4 days in Rome. and of course attended that wedding and that funeral. we discovered we had stores of patience for each other that never seemed to wane, and that being together was never dull even if were just watching bad TV.

as accelerated as things might have seemed from the outside, for us things were just moving forward as they should. every once in a while we would stop to marvel at our strange reality and laugh at the giddy conviction we thought only teenagers could feel when they were dating someone new. 

but in general we agreed, if something feels this natural and obvious why would we possibly waste time and energy fighting it?

so maybe tzury’s whispered proposal under the covers in the dark makes perfect sense. and the way his question came rolling out followed by my answer (i made him ask me again just to be sure). another story involving helicopters and hot air balloons might be more fun to tell. but this one is mine.  

The smoothie lives on!

nyc-style smoothie

Granted it's not made with coconuts and bananas found in the "backyard" but it's still smooth and creamy nutritious good.  I think Natalie would be proud. 

Shower redux

Coming home from Nepal, 2010

I take my first shower back home at my dad's house in Queens because he and Esther pick me up at the airport the night before despite a delay in Miami that gets me in at 2 am.  Thank goodness for such parents.  I see him looking for me in the passenger pickup area at JFK before he sees me so that when he turns around I am standing right there and his face breaks into such a smile before he gives me the biggest hug. This part never gets old.

My shower the next morning is a classic perk of home, with water set at exactly the right temperature and a white porcelain tub with nary a remnant of crusty soap or its previous inhabitants.  I have two plush towels to dry off with and a fluffy mat to step on to as I exit. Lathering up on this first shower back home makes me recall the wide variety of other showers taken on this trip:

Biodegradable toiletries

• The first and much beloved "sun shower" of my bungalow casita at Equilibrio, set at the end of a narrow stone path outside my back bathroom door and tucked among the banana trees. The water was always one temperature - near scalding - because April was still dry season and the pipes always exposed to the sun. I sometimes wondered about openings in the bamboo fence surrounding my little backyard but that didn't prevent me from drying off just standing there under the hot sun afterwards. The slightly cooler night showers were also nice especially when the stars were out. 

• What can only be called the "volcano shower" at Inan Itah with its full frontal view of Volcan Conception. I tried to keep my eyes on it as much as possible while showering in order to make the most of the opportunity. The shower's only downside was the ledge crammed with long forgotten soaps and shampoos, and having to bring mine up from the hammock dorm instead of being able to store it there. Also sometimes my feet would get muddy again if I accidentally stepped off unto the unpaved path instead of one of the rocks.  Still, having a volcano to stare at more than made up for such things.

Showering at Inan Itah

• Dirty hostel showers like the one at Hostel Oasis in Granada - unless you were the first one in after the cleaning crew which rarely happened.  By the time I usually got into it, it was obvious about 20 other people had beaten me to it. 

• The weird shower in San Pedro. Although my room was cheap and included the luxury of a private bath, the shower totally sucked.  Getting wet enough to lather and rinse involved walking around under the nozzle to accumulate water. A mysterious appendage attached to the nozzle did nothing but spray the entire bathroom (as opposed to me) when I tried to figure it out, and dismantled it by mistake instead.  I'll take dirty shower over shower with shitty water pressure any day.

• GOOD hostel showers like my last at El Hostel in Antigua before coming home. Despite being communal (there was one for boys vs. girls though!) the shower stalls were clean, tiled and the water temperature and pressure perfect.  By now the nights and early mornings were quite chilly so having hot water was key. When I left Antigua to visit Laguna Atitlan for a few days, El Hostel's hot showers was a big factor in my decision to come back - along with the beautiful complimentary breakfast and amazing people that worked there, of course

Thinking about my various shower experiences over these past two months conjures up as well as anything the experiences themselves - where I was, who I was hanging out with, what the weather was like, how I was feeling. My wide variety of shower experiences is also a helpful reminder that the comforts of home - as clean and luxurious as they may be -  are just one of many potential other experiences just waiting to be had.

:)

Packed

I've gotten better at properly packing a pack but it's still exhausting. My sister was my first guide the first time I packed for South America, showing me how to adjust all those dang dangling straps.  Beth taught me the valuable lesson of rolling everything to create more space when I packed for Nepal. And Staci Jon so generously lent me her backpack TWICE when I discovered each time that 50 liters was too small to take everything I needed (though John I know would disagree).  

So this time I am prepared with a backpack all my own that packs up to 70 liters (hurray!).  I have mentally packed my pack multiple times, making and revising and further streamlining the list of bare essentials needed to possibly teach art, do yoga, swim, hike, surf, sleep and maybe also dance while I am away.  My mother comes over for moral support; actually she pretty much packs everything for me.  I roll, she packs.  We have beers.  It is practically a party.   We finish way ahead of schedule with plenty of time left to sleep before my car comes to take me to JFK at 4 friggin o'clock in the morning. Although now that I am writing this post, maybe not so much.  

Good night! 

"She's gone traveling, traveling..." (yes, again)

It's April's Fools 2012 so by now it's safe to say I've developed a knack... or a hankering...or perhaps a crazy addiction?

Call it what you will but this Spring is 3 years in a row that I am away or just returning from some extended travel experience roundabout this time of year. Three years in a row that I am missing Passover at home... or April Fools. In fact, on this very day exactly one year ago, I was 4 days into the Annapurna Circuit trek through the Himalayas and scheming a proper April Fool's joke to play on our guides with my fellow trekkers (it ended up being pretty good and pretty effective: something about a change of heart and wanting to be airlifted back. We properly completed the trek all on foot 13 days later).

The April before that I was bussing to Patagonia from Buenos Aires to spend a month volunteering as a memoir-writing, ABBA dancing personal assistant in the 1000-person town of Cavaihue with a woman named Ginny, who touched and changed my life forever (she's a big part of the reason I decided to get my yoga teaching certificate the summer I returned).

And now this.  On Tuesday I leave for Nicaragua, with a one way ticket and an open mind. I'll be spending the first few weeks volunteering with the foundation Aprender and providing marketing services in exchange for room and board at the brand new yoga/artist retreat, Equilibrio (more on all this later!). I envision continuing on after that to see as much of Central America as I can, "yoga retreat hopping" if you will within the confines of what my solo female budget travel sensibility will allow.

In honor then of the increasing chapters of my ongoing travels I've renamed my blog. While initially created to help document my six months in South America and thusly named "KareninSouthAmerica," this blog has evolved to help document me simply being in the world. Travel seems to have become a big component of that for all the ways it educates and inspires and fortifies me. But traveling has also taught me, it's possible to experience all this just by knowing where to look. To test and redefine your own boundaries on whatever terms you choose.

My friend Gabrielle actually wrote a beautiful song about it. The song isn't about traveling per se but that powerful urge to go off in search of something bigger then what you know, in order to come back home. Inside. When I told her I loved it and that it was perfect for me, she replied "it's (perfect) for all of us who wake up and see there must be something more than all of this... it never changes...never gets easier. Only the leaping does."

Amen to that. I start this next chapter then and leave you for now with these lyrics to Inside.

Inside


She's gone traveling traveling
trying to catch the sun as it sets
left to right wandering wondering
will the moon rise
inside

She rise up she fall down
she pick herself to run right way
left alone happily saddening
will I ever be
satisfied

She smiles inside wide
She's not searching no
for some hidden meaning
the world gone and open up open up
telling her
it's inside

No she just got to learn to trust it and
she got to learn to see it
for what the world holds
for what it creates
outside
She smiles inside wide

Look at her how she glows
feeling it from head down to toes
making the world happen as she goes
her world turning
turning

She smiles inside wide

Always,
Karen

Nepal bound

And so once again I am off.  This time for Nepal. My driving motivation is the Annapurna Circuit - winner of the "25 things to do before I die" list on one of my favorite travel blogs Uncornered Market complete with 4,576 meters elevation gain in 9 days; 112 miles walked in about 15 - 20 days; and about 50 Himalayan villages crossed along the entire way.  More or less.  You can read more about my source of inspiration on:  http://www.uncorneredmarket.com/2008/06/himalayan-trekking-stew-a-recipe-for-a-life-experience

Yes, this is what started it all whilst one innocent high-powered, career frenzied, and (relatively) well dressed New York City day I was surfing the Web.  Next thing I know this is the direction towards which I am heading.  Work is but work, and life is but short, blah blah blah.  Noone can argue the impact of an adventure of a lifetime.  Truly.  All the rest of it will always just be there waiting to be dealt with.  

And so it shall ... but in the meantime I am heading to Nepal alone with nary a notion of what to expect.  I may do this trek with a group, or I may do it alone, perhaps with random people I have yet to meet and pick up along the way in Kathmandu and/or Pokahara.  At the moment, the biggest hurdle I forsee is my 8 hour layover in Delhi, arriving 10:30 pm Saturday 3/26, departing for Kathmandu 6 am or so the following morning Sunday 3/27. Ugh.  Thank god for my new prematurely birthday gifted Kindle (thanks Family!).  I will either be sleeping on the Indian airport terminal floor or simultaneously plowing through Anna Karenina, Shantaram, Jane Eyre, and the collected works of Theroux and John Keats during this time.  We shall see. 

Either way I am excited.  To be sure.  I know it will be challenging and cold and tough at times too, and also - needless to say, ehem - that I will be a sight for sore eyes.  But all of this potential pain and unshowered misery will occur against a backdrop of splendor that is the Nepalese Himalayas and the culture I will encounter.  If I get through it in one piece I will remember the month ahead that awaits forever.  I will also be eating a lot of dal bhaat.  Look it up.  Cuz apparently this will sustain me.  Or kill me.  Stay tuned!!!!

You can read more on where I am headed via these links, should you desire:

http://wikitravel.org/en/Annapurna_Circuit

http://www.enepaltrekking.com/nepal_trekking/annapurna_circuit_trekking.php

http://travel.nytimes.com/2010/03/21/travel/21nepal.html?pagewanted=4&sq=nepal&st=cse&scp=2

Will send more dispatches (as possible) from along the way. 

Much love, 

Always, 

(Travelin') me

Closure and ... it's my birthday!

This blog has needed closure since returning home almost 3 weeks now and I woke up this morning thinking I would finally get to it because it's my birthday. 

It's timely my trip should culminate with this type of annual event. I often spend my birthdays thinking about the birth year ahead and I start it today armed with the insights my trip to South America has enabled.  "Armed" because I am a stronger, more purposeful person than I was when I left.  Even as I begin my job search, consider alternative careers, and try to plot my next move... literally.

Indeed, despite this current uncertainty, I feel more clearsighted than ever. I have internalized so much from my 6 months in South America - from the people I met, the experiences I had - that every day I feel myself drawing fortitude from it. It is like a piece of the puzzle about who I really am has fallen into place, and now I really know. 

The tatoo I committed (for eternity:) to my inner wrist in San Martin de los Andes is meant to (forever:) remind me of that. It's of a bird taking flight and finally, in the last stage, soaring.  So yes, with this trip, I opened my wings and soared.  Though the bird is actually about what I gained from that experience and how it's changed me.  How doing something that felt so scary at first became one of the best things I've ever done. How momentarily stepping away from the self image that I had created in NYC allowed me to discover I was something more.

(The tatoos sits right around where my watch would go so with the flick of a wrist  at some mind-numbing meeting I can take a look at it and remember.)

So I end this blog on that note and with that embrace 37 and every single other year to come... fully aware of how precious every single year... every day... really is. And keen on making the most of every moment of it!

Till the next blog then...!

Always,
Karen

Home

Back home now 4 days. Srule and Esther proved their undying love by coming to fetch me from JFK at the crack of dawn on what happened to also be Christmas Day. I don't know that I could've handled coming home without knowing they'd be waiting with such open, happy arms and eagerness to see me at the other end. And a coat. Ahh right - in NYC, December is quite cold!!

Being here amidst my things and my life, everything feels both comfortably and scarily familiar. It was fun to walk into my apartment and realize with fresh eyes how cozy and full of pretty non-hostel-like character it is! It was also unexpectedly reassuring to discover how naturally like home my home actually felt. As happy as I was to be traveling all of this time without a thought for the things I'd left behind, it was still pretty nice to see them again. Even NYC with its crazy city buzz has felt welcoming to me somehow - this being perhaps a nice perk of returning during the holiday season..?

The scary part of all this warm familiarity is knowing how easy it will be to pick up exactly where I left off - how quickly that "as if I never left" feeling sets in when you return home. It worries me to think that all the things I saw and did during what seemed like such a luxurious stretch of time before I left in early October, will become just part of a nice story I get to tell (to whoever is willing to listen) in a matter of moments. How can 2 1/2 months of life-changing adventure transmogrify into nothing but a blip?!!

And yet I really hope it doesn't. I really hope that this time, having opened myself up through travel in a way I never had before, I will internalize some of what I've learned, about the endless possibility of beauty and my own capacity for wonder. About remembering how to be wide eyed in the world, and the opportunity this affords to rediscover your sense of self and what you have to give, which is really one of the best things about travel, I find ... how it inspires and excites you to want to be your best self.

Or, as the quote from Kent Nerburn more precisely puts it:

“This is why we need to travel. If we don’t offer ourselves to the unknown, our senses dull... The edge is off our experience, and we pass our days in a routine that is both comfortable and limiting. We wake up one day and find that we have lost our dreams in order to protect our days.”

So I come home with the hope that I can keep pursuing that "edge" even as I settle back into a life of routine full of family and friends and a dog that I love. Oh yes, and work. Routine itself is not inherently evil or bad, I just have to find the one that is right for me. This trip has given me renewed enthusiasm for figuring out what that is, and also some clarity as to what that might be. Knowing too that continuing to travel as much as I can in life will be a big part of it. Hey, this blog may very well become a series!

Till then... I wish everyone a happy, full-of-blessings New Year!

Love,
Karen

Theroux

I am reading Theroux's The Old Patagonian Express describing his journey circa 1976 "by train to the Americas" ... from BOSTON.  Yep.  I've only made it as far as Chicago with Paul and so far his train has been severely delayed by crazy winter snow storms and he's drinking a lot of vodka-infused "pick me ups" in the dining car.  Eventually, the story has it, he really does arrive in Patagonia, as far as Esquel in Argentina (quite near where I also hope to eventually be in Bariloche).  He's a great writer, attuned to all the important details of train sounds and smells and passenger etiquette.   The book was a going away present from Moni who inscribed it perfectly to say:

To Karen, my fellow adventurer.

All great journeys combine a good measure of ups with a few unavoidable downs. Later, in retrospect, the downs - magically - turn into unforgettable memories.  

Cherish every moment.

In his introduction to the book Theroux provides some context and offers an observation I find comforting -- especially today my day of (imminent) departure in this dreary cold rain :

"...A book like this... is not a problem to study and annotate.  It is something I wrote to give pleasure; something to enjoy. You should be able to see these people and places, to hear them and smell them. Of course, some of it is painful, but travel - its very motion - ought to suggest hope. Despair is the armchair; it is indifference and glazed, incurious eyes. I think travelers are essentially optimists, or else they would never go anywhere..."

Yep.  See you next in Peru!

The bag

I decided to try my new backpack out tonight, a super lightweight burgundy Gregory Jade 50. Figured this would  give me a solid 48 hours to see that everything fits, decide what may be dispensable, and realize what crucial thing I am about to forget.  Thank goodness Leeron was around to help (so happy she is here!).   Turns out she's picked up quite a few good packing tips whilst on that nice little 5 month journey around the world.  And then there was the moral support of sisterhood ...   Together we pounded the sleeping bag to stuff it good and tight at the very bottom of the backpack, then began to layer up 2 months' worth of "bare necessities."

Despite my careful checklist, these "necessities" stopped feeling so bare as the weight began to increase with every extra sock.   Hey, why take 4 pairs when you can take 3?!  The one pair of jeans I want to bring feels like a luxury item (who knew denim was so heavy??) and I am still trying to decide whether I should take them.  I probably will.  I could hang out in my hiking pants the whole time but this may become intolerable, especially when I am not hiking.  

The good news is the bag was about 85% packed with room to spare and was altogether transportable when I traipsed around the room with it on my back.   Gabrielle suggested I give my backpack a test drive on the Central Park loop before I leave but I have a sneaking feeling this is not going to happen.   I'm just going to trust the backpack thing will work out without me hyperventilating too much about it.  Tomorrow I will pack it again with the whole lot thrown in.   By Thursday I will have it down to a science.  

Four days left

Hi.  I leave for South America in four days now.   Strange to realize this trip is no longer "in October" or "next month" or ... "2 weeks away!!"  Now, when someone asks when I leave for South America, I get to simply say "Thursday."  Which feels like a huge mental shift somehow, a sign that this trip is really happening.

It's been a long time coming and I do finally (at last) also feel ready.  The research has been done, the assorted trustworthy friends consulted, the trekking gear bought.  My trip felt real for real when I actually went ahead and bought the ticket, complete with actual dates of departure and return which is how these things are done.  There were decisions to be made. Where to fly to? From whence to return?  How long was too long ... and too short?  The purpose of my journey was clear:  I wanted enough time to really experience South America, to actually learn and ingrain (once and for all) the language in my head, to discover something unexpected and new - about myself too.    The fact that it felt a little scary seemed part of the point.   Nobody travels in search of what is comfortable.  Traveling is inherently a bit of a quest.  

So I've settled on 2 months, returning only coincidentally on my sister's 33rd birthday, December 14th.  Or maybe that was why that date felt right?  Two months feels right too. Enough time to travel in a way that will feel not rushed and meaningful, and allow room for spontaneity alongside careful plans.  I will be volunteering in Arequipa, hiking the Inca trail to Machu Picchu, trekking in Patagonia, and meeting assorted friends along the way - a few old, the rest new.  Within these roughly sketched parameters, I will be "making it up" as I go along. 

This blog will be where I report back on what gets revealed along the way.  When my friend John suggested I keep one I said no way.  I was not taking my cell phone.   I was eager to disconnect.  But (as Claudia pointed out) I do think I will look forward to this aspect of the trip and hope I will have the opportunity to report back often, as Internet cafes present themselves to me.  With this, my first entry, I realize too how excited I am by the prospect of my very first blog - both to communicate with whoever cares to know but mostly (selfishly?) to help process for myself what is happening.  

Also, I really enjoy getting to say the word "blllog" over and over again out loud.   

Adios for now.