Below me, the sea laps up steel blue sandy shores and seagulls happily call out to the fish migrating through these arctic waters. But in this spot, perched on a sea cliff threatening to give way 60ft to the beach below, I strain to focus on only nature. And not because yellow jackets the size of my head buzz around me (thankfully mosquitoes aka the state bird aren’t out this evening). But because large ships migrating farther than those fish the seagulls greet, part the waves with as much authority as Moses in the Red Sea. And because small airplanes fly overhead, continually popping out from behind each surrounding snow-capped mountain. Perhaps they are returning from a food drop to a small isolated village in the north.  Perhaps they are delivering local IPAs and Amber ales to anxious “damp” communities awaiting their monthly liquor allowance. But still, all of this adds to the overall experience of Alaska: a wild combination of natural beauty, oil driven exports, and a lack of paved roads.

Its already closing in on seven at night but the sun wont set for another four more hours. The news today tracked how many minutes of sunlight they’d gained since yesterday. “We gained another six minutes of sunshine today folks,” the weatherman happily informed us. Farther north, in Barrow, they were gaining about forty. Soon night time will be a forgotten memory of the winter. There is something about the mountains…or perhaps just Alaska in general that is somewhat threatening. I’m definitely kept on my toes here. The city can be intimidating with inequality and alcoholism peering out behind each brick corner. (Its illegal to be drunk in a bar here but EVERYONE here drinks like it’s a national sport, whhattt???) The animals are as big as the monsters you imagine hiding under your bed and the weather prefers to avoid any synonym of comfortable.

The Last Frontier. The Land of the Midnight Sun.

A bunch of rocks suddenly roll down to the shores below me, pitter pattering on their way down. Where the heck did those come from? I looked to my right to see any signs of them rolling from a place near me. “Danger! Unstable edge!” the sign my bike leans against glares out. I tuck my feet a little closer to me. Ahh yes, the land of big dangers, but it just feels so good to sit right here, warm and happy in the Alaska sun…in the promise of an approaching summer filled with even bigger adventures.

Most of our clientel are a little older, which while on the bright side only enhances their color and entertainment value, lets just say that most of the pick up lines I hear dont come out the mouths of strapping young sailors. It was a slower Tuesday night, and I was pouring another Jager shot when two young, muscular men came in and sat down in front of me. “Two dark rums and coke. Make it The Kraken Rum,” they said directly into my eyes. “You got it darling,” I said, spinning around to grab the bottle from the shelves. “And if you have the weather on your phone, that would be awesome too,” they said, looking down anxiously at the beerless coasters in front of them.

I poured the rum over the ice as smoothly as I whipped out my phone from my back pocket.  ”According to Weather bug, its 9mph. Why are you boys sailing tonight?” I asked, topping off the glasses with a blast of coke from the soda gun. “Its kind of late, dont you think?”

They smirked. “No we aren’t sailing tonight.”

“Oh. Do you live on a boat then?”

“Kind of. Well, I do for now, hes just visiting,” one wearing a hat said as he nudged his “visiting friend”.  This visitor was tall, broad and handsome. He looked like the head football player type from Texas. 100% Texas man meat. The one in the hat was active looking, and attractive but not my cut of steak.

“Well, thats cool,” I said, more interested in what they had to say then the regulars next to me who were currently distracted by their Jager bombs. With a couple more questions and some “coolness dropping” of the fact that I use to live in Patagonia to work on an adventure sports race, I soon had them talking up a storm. They were asking me about rock climbing and traveling, two of their shared passions. I knew it, adventure men.

We were engaged in a spirited conversation over their third double rum and coke when Texas man meat asked me to check the wind again.

“Whats the plan you guys? Arent you going to stay and hang out with me?” I asked, batting my eyelashes and dreaming of tips.

“Well its like this, if theres too much wind, we stay and get drunk. If theres less than 5mph, we head out.”

“Head out where…”

“Base jumping.” They both said nonchalantly.

“….Like in a squirrel suit? Off a building?!!! Where?!” Oh thats normal, just one more shot hun than Im throwing on my squirrel suit and jumping off a roof. Typical Tuesday right?

“We have a list!” they volunteered. “Of places in Honolulu that dont lock their roof doors so you can go and jump off. Feel free to come whenever. We need a look out.”

A look out?! Umm, yup. So down. Pick me! Pick me!

They proceeded to show me pictures of them jumping off height defying glass buildings in Waikiki or off cliffs in Italy above cruise ships…what the hell.

Just as I was getting off work and about to sit with them to get more drinks, a tall red headed girl with curls hanging down her back marched in and sat between them.  Texas meat man put his arm around her lower back. Within seconds they were whispering drunken sweet nothings into each others ears, and within minutes they were gone.

So much for getting to be the look out. But they had blown in with the wind and had left with the lack of it, off to conquer the Hawaii night sky in a squirrel suit.

My job rocks, but one day, I might like to give their job a shot…or at least be the lookout.

I was just leaving Bolivia when I wrote this, which is one of the poorest countries in South America. Street food, sleeping in a tent in the rolling countryside near where Che Guevara died, and trekking through the Amazon had been my reality for the last month. And I had only been traveling alone for a month at this point, after breaking up with Matt…I wrote this in a bus, alone, on 30 hour bus trip to Rio de Janeiro.

I got into Brazil finally and don’t speak Portuguese and the buses are suddenly air conditioned and professional. The drivers even dress like airplane pilots. A taxi cost $10 USD and thats suppose to be a bargain?! Where am I? But at the same time, I dont care. Im so excited for this country…

All I can do is smile.

The people here speak to me in English and I nod, hesitant, ”Of course English is my first language, but I’d feel more comfortable if we spoke Spanish. Sorry my Portuguese is bad.”

I have to embrace being a foreigner, completely out of my element. When they speak to me here I latch on to Spanish like a scared four year old does to its mother.  I’m such a weirdo, what would I do in China?

I hate traveling and not knowing the language…

but its inevitable. There are just SO many languages! This will be a new challenge for me. I have to practice my smile and “good vibrations”. And Im here to be happy, right? Perhaps if I were to split up my journey, the first chapter was Culture and this now this chapter is Peace. I’ve finally found peace after a crazy breakup and relearning to travel alone in Bolivia, but now I need to radiate it outward in able to feel it again in Brazil, a place where I am totally out of my element. I have no local language skills to fall back on.

All I can do is accept change, embrace being different, spread happiness and peace between peoples from very different backgrounds…with a smile

My eyes closed.

My heart fluttered.

Today is the day. My day. A smile infects my face. Traffic drives by and wonders why this girl in very short khaki shorts is skipping down the busy road on the way to the dive bar at the end of the block. I’m going to work, its beautiful outside, and the sun dances on the water under the bridge upon which I skip.

Each chord played struck something in my heart and it moved, flickered, danced. Like the water below my feet. I smile giddily. I might even giggle to myself. And I felt…intoxicated. In a completely different way than last night after drinking too many vodka tonics. This time its by music. By love. By an excitement towards life.

It reminded me how good it feels to be alive. How many beautiful things Ive seen, and more importantly, memories I’ve felt…am yet to feel.

I played the song again. And again. I only have one other song on my phone and embarrassingly enough it’s Taylor Swift. Sorry Taylor, but my heart isnt experiencing a breakup or wanting the simplicity of girly pop lyrics. I want the good stuff and ironically I have no other choice but to keep clicking “Repeat”. Ohh, the acoustic guitar rift and the buttery voice that serenades my soul.

“Repeat”. Click.

I’ve been terrible at this blogging thing so, inspired by this song and the happiness it instigates within me, Im going to post old entries from my traveling diary. As often as I can. And like the song, each time I relive that traveling memory by writing it out, I will be reminded to keep going. To keep skipping. To laugh and think, Yes, I need to feel that again.

“Repeat.” Click.

Today I applied to work in Alaska for the summer. My fingers are crossed. Literally, Im so excited I super glued them that way…

Throw in those snow peaked mountains, glaciers, giant bears and moose?!! Where do I sign up

“Martha wants cookies with her pizza. Bob wants Cheetos.
Bryce wants..”

Huh?!
I look over at the page to make sure I heard correctly. Yup. There, printed on the page was my other kinky pod friend’s name, clear as day.
Since when is that a name typically used in beginning English Phonics books? Secondly, she had paused to turn the page, and my eyes had latched onto the book as she did so. What does Bryce want on his pizza? If they say gummy bears or Oreos I’ll devote my life to God from here on out, I swear. There’s no rational math statistic to explain a coincidence that crazy. Give me a reason to be an unyielding believer in destiny. Please say gummy bears…

“Bryce wants… extra cheese on his pizza. Billy wants…” And just like that, it had turned into yet another normal coincidence.

I finished my class an hour later, and as I peered down at my phone for new texts from Emley, I had a new email..from Bryce! Although I do keep in touch with my Kinky Pod friends, not this often. Today was just weird.

So I curiously opened the email, and there lay a link to this article. “Thinking of you.”
What the heck?!
Whether or not the stars lined up just right today and none of this is any sort of coincidence, I may never know. But regardless, this article is pretty darn inspiring. Im ready to throw on my backpack and jump on the next plane outta here! If i had any doubts today about living on as a traveling fool, this article put me in my place. Go get em Tiger! it seemed to cheer me on.
So read on, and feel inspired  Travel Young , no excuses!

Ok, so down!!!

…but what? What even is it that I should be going for?

I’ve traveled. Its awesome. I want to travel more soon. But what is it that I want to be really doing, while Im traveling even….

1. write more

2. travel more

3. play the violin

4.speak better Spanish

So I want to be a traveling violin player that speaks Spanish and writes about it. Im aspiring to be a hipster/gypsy vagabond. Awesome. A great career to pay off loans with, or so I hear.

Maybe its time for me to get a “big girl job” in marketing somewhere new? That might take a bite out of my student loans debt faster…

Then I think about all the technology and disconnect surrounding me in this 1st world country of mine and how heavily marketing is integrated into it. Do I really want to pursue a career in marketing, where I get paid to super glue my phone and all its social media apps to my every waking thought?! My friends type more hashtags then words they speak a day, everyone has like 7 social medias on at all times now, the surgeon general is considering calling text obsession an epidemic, and my Dad and his wife walk around the house in silence with their head phones on, listening to audio books, while they iron clothes or wash dishes, until every five minutes or so when one of them bursts out chuckling, which I soon realize is because of something that happened in their audio book! I feel like I’m living in a house alone with schizophrenics!! Ok…maybe that last part has less to do with this age of technology and how disconnected we are becoming to the “real world” and more to do with my family being weirdos but STILL. What the heck?!

So I “deleted” Facebook, because you cant actually delete Facebook. Ever. But I did what I could and am now disconnected at least. Now is my time to disconnect in order to reconnect. To life. To books. To sunshine. To the feeling that I dont give two shakes of a stick how much fun other people think Im having today.

…Are you lost in my thoughts? Im a big fan of tangents. Here, Ill try to lead you towards the light. Basically I, like so many 23 soon to be 24 year olds before me, am at that crucial crossroads where I ask myself….What the hell am I doing with my life? I wasnt joking when I stated I have the “travel itch”. I even pay yearly to own a URL that tells the world “Hey! I have to travel all the time or I go crazy!” But I guess Im more coming to terms with how I want to travel. Better yet, how I want to live.

So whats a girl to do?

Then I get this email tonight from an ex-boyfriend turned good friend who is in New Zealand and he asks how I feel about the difference between traveling with 3,000$ vs 30,000$ and if Im going to work corporate for a while to save up that kind of money before I travel again. And although, duh!, theres nothing negative about having 30,000 stored up, I also feel so indifferent to that number. As if its just another “security” that we all feel we need. I cant keep track of how many times Ive heard people say they’d love to go out and pursue a dream but they only have 5000$ saved up. Pfft! I traveled 7 months on 5000! ( I worked at least half of the time). So I think I almost prefer $3000 because it offers the challenge of forcing yourself to get creative. Get a job where you are traveling. Make local friends. Dive right in. Sink or swim, and asking the parents for money is not included in either of those options.

Right. I love adventure and the risk of uncertainty. So I guess Ill go to Alaska asap, get a random enjoyable job there and live in one of the coolest places in the world until Im ready for a change. And write about it while I chip away at my debts. And then write some more.

…Did I just answer my own earlier questions?!

But Im right here!! Hey! Im over here! In Hawaii! Ive been here for a hot minute now..
Hmm, but there’s been no blog posts, nothing to show for my existence…no reports on crazy adventures?! And yes, there HAVE been more crazy adventures. I just went off the radar for…well, more than minute. But Im back! 

Since leaving Colombia in November, I’ve:

* spent time with the ones I love

Road trip with some of the ones I love

* lived up to my goal of surfing way more. I managed
to drop in on my first big wave AND hit the reef super
hard all in the same day, just luckily not all at once!

* conquered a 10-day homemade-juice detox to feel better
about my health after a year of backpacking.. beer every
day is a necessity of the lifestyle

* jetsetted to California/ Las Vegas for NYE in effort to
ruin any recooperation my body had done. On this trip I:

** rode a mechanical bull in small glittery
clothes in Vegas…dont necessarily recommend that
part
**assisted in a prank call that changed a friend’s
destiny (in an amazingly good kind of way)
**danced on a fire pit in Santa Barbara
**became inspired by California for 2013

** shwindled THREE JOBS to save up for my next year’s worth of
adventures

Ahhh the list goes on!
Gee whiz, thats a mouthful of bullet points as it is, SO I’ll stop there and say…full stories coming asap!

The next few days I PROMISE to write more, even if by now no one is reading them but me, so I can have some sort of testament proving that I lived every day of my life exactly the way I wanted to. Its going to be crazy and fun and definitely ridiculous! So bring it on 2013, lets boogie…

I still remember walking into the Bogota hostel, dropping my bags in the courtyard, throwing on my jeans jacket (brr its cold in Bogota!) and taking a deep breath. “I made it!” I cried out, as Scott sat across from me coolly smoking a cigarette and looking warm in his grey beanie. I slumped down in my chair, all smiles, and said “Well, I havent slept in 36 hours and its Saturday night… lets start drinking?” Obviously, I wanted to start off my first night in Colombia right.

The part of this story that I havent told already, isnt about last minute jet setting to meet Scott, or about the parties that ensued that night, but about the people surrounding me in this scene. Sitting next to Scott were two dapper looking gentlemen bundled up in North Face and sporting Vans footwear. Yup, I know my own kind when I see ‘em. They were ‘Mericans. Even more, Californians. Right after I stated my need for alcohol to continue this fiesta, they jumped in with “Hey, we’ve got some Baileys. Lets get this going with some coffee,” and since that glorious gesture, we’ve been best friends.

And then there were three of us. Two California raised boys who had moved to Colombia to teach English and seek the same adventure that had gotten me out of Hawaii one year ago. There was Zach, who truly should have been born a 1950s heart throb, who had gone to school in Chile and then backpacked Peru, just like me! And his other half, Bryce, who went to school for marketing (just like me!) and then threw all those warnings about getting a job right out of school to the wind, choosing to indulge in wanderlust instead. At first I avoided making friends with more gringos, especially foreigners who share my same accent. But I finally gave in to their witty comments, shared passion for Latin American politics and happy-go-lucky attitude. Plus, Zach works as a journalist for a respected Colombian newspaper in Medellin while Bryce pursues travel photography and has been to North Korea…these boys aren’t exactly Wonderbread. I had fallen in friendship love with these two.

Then came my next friend, Narayan. I think Scott initially introduced us, but this Australian with an unidentifiable Posh accent and an angel face was working in the hostel and teaching English on the side, resting his bones and backpack in one place after months of traveling. After spending many hung over mornings in the common room, typing on our computers and eating the same complimentary butter rolls, we became friends.

One outing and some beers later, it was pretty obvious we all. just. clicked.  And in life, no matter where they are from or what their story is, when you meet people like that, you cherish it. And let the good times roll…

So then there were four. But as you may or may not know a “kinky pod” or Quinque Pod is like a Tri-Pod but with five components….yup, five. So who was the last person to win their way into my heart? Southern belle and free spirit, Emley. This girl is tall, blonde, thin…basically a total Diesel-model bomb shell, and yes, she does model for Diesel…and work on Telenovellas. But she wouldnt describe herself like that because shes too busy speaking amazing Spanish, traveling her way all over the world, working on her Masters thesis and cooking some of the most amazing cakes my mouth has ever tasted.

So who doesn’t want friends like these four? No one. Which is exactly why I snagged them up.

And suddenly I found myself laughing more than I had in a while, and feeling, in a life filled with jumping around and constantly meeting people that are coming and going, that I had real friends again. So over the course of the past two months, since I first arrived in Bogota, Ive taken trips to the north of Colombia, to Guatemala and to Panama…and then always come back. To some sort of home. And it was amazing.

At times I started to feel a little guilty that I was spending the end of my trip hanging out with other foreigners, letting my Spanish start to slip up here and there, let my backpack collect dust in the corner while my hiking boots finally dried out..but there are many different aspects of traveling that change you. And as I’ve continually found, you can see the most beautiful places in the world, but nothing truly matters as much as who you share your time with. From hanging out with this group I’ve pushed and shaped more of myself then I was ever expecting to. And that in itself, makes it worth it. Factor in all the home cooked meals we shared(Thanksgiving!), the late nights spent dancing, wandering around Bogota, listening to classical piano or taking cow-hat shots in Medellin, and ALL the laughs Ive had with these people, and I know, I wouldn’t trade them for the world. For those weeks we shared together, I had a home. And after over a year away from my own, it all felt so right. They are the cherry on top of my 2012 travel trip ice cream sundae.

As I continue on back to the States for more adventures in Arizona, Las Vegas, Hawaii and then WHO KNOWS WHERE, I wish them all the best and only hope they remember me with as much love as I remember them. Who knows, maybe we’ll reunite one day the way I did with Scott? But until that part of life reveals itself…let the good times roll…

As all of us were giggling with delight through the green dewy canopy, we realized our hour was up and we had reached the end of our ziplining adventure. But have no fear, now we are off to spend a week in the Caribbean on a boat!! Aww life’s not so bad So we were off, to the little zodiac that swept us all up and whisked us away to the deck of our new Catamaran home. Our crew was: The Captain, a jolly older Guatemalan who steered the boat with his foot, Zaceo, the first mate who had a gold star plate over one of his front teeth, and Ariel, the tender faced 19 year old who cooked delicious meals and flirted hopelessly with every blonde on the boat. As we set off, the lime juice came out and the rum started to flow. So we drank, and drank, and drank some more as any self-respecting person on a Caribbean vacation does…and we admired the fish and shared travel stories, talked about life, dreams, relationships, great loves, and despite age or occupation or WHATEVER we all became family that week.

It rained hopelessly the first day out, but it only brightened our spirits when we reached the sun streaked crystal blue waters of …a MacBook screen saver. Seriously. We pulled up to a different little island each day (even though you can’t get on the islands unless you feel like being attacked by MILLIONS of sand fleas!) and snorkeled around the reefs which glowed of deep blues and aquas, while fish of every color and shape whizzed by. Sea fans danced beneath our boat, and sting rays took shelter in the shadows below us. At night, after some delicious fish dinner Ariel would fry up, I’d climb up into the “crow’s nest” on the boat, and sway back and forth with the ocean, admiring the millions of stars which glistened onto the crystal water surrounding me and the fantastically beautiful little islands. Its moments like that you feel so lucky to be a part of this universe, no matter how small you may be, you are still help comprise something unimaginably beautiful….

One day, a little tired of “fish watcher snorkeling”, I asked the captain if I could come and spear fish with him for dinner. I needed a motive behind my snorkeling, and killing those beautiful fish to eat seemed like just the solution. “Well, you can come…but you can’t spear!” he said after a moment of consideration….not that I blame him, he was answering a little blonde girl sporting a  Brazilian Bikini which was literally hanging on by a thread and mascara perpetually seeping down an overly sunned face. But despite my not-so-the-fishing-type-ly appearance, he let me come! We took off towards the edge of the reef looking for lobster and all things tasty. Huge coral villages lay below us, teeming with life, and sea fans hula’d their long leaves, giving shelter to the striped and spotted fish that tried to elude us. The captain would spot a fish, do some weird inhaling thing and suddenly float to the top. He would lay there for a minute before suddenly diving head first toward the fish, slingshotting his spear at it. That’s when I noticed him drop the fish bag. I dove down and grabbed it off the coral head, carefully opening it without letting any spiny fish escape. He came up, noticed me hovering there, holding the bag open with a big dorky smile on my face. He thought about it for a second and handed me the fish. I quickly shoved it in and tied it just the way I had seen him do it. From then on, I was The Bag Holder. We were a supersonic aqua spearing team! As the new trusty side kick, he now took the time to point things out to me, like a big Sand Shark lurking below us…he would wait until he saw the look of panic spread over my face…and then inform me that it had no teeth. He also pointed out the invasive lion fish, which was overtaking the Caribbean and which couldn’t be touched unless you wanted to be shot up with toxins. It was amazing, the best snorkeling I had done probably ever. Although I tried to tough it out all day, kicking my way after this spear fishing machine, bag in tow, after two hours was tiring, and I was dehydrated and pooped. I went back to the boat, drank a gallon of water, and passed out in the shade.

The week flew by and suddenly the boat was heading out of the ocean to retreat from a large storm passing by Haiti and Jamaica (little did we know that storm was making quite a dent in some other people’s plans as well) and it quickly became time to toast Bill on all the love he had managed to share in his 50 years. We took shelter in the canal of a giant canyon, with huge jungle walls surrounding us on either side. We paddle boarded through its smaller fingers and finally made our way back towards Guatemala from the Belizean ocean. 

We spent our last night all together over a delicious Central American dinner, followed by cocktails and horchata. We hugged, promised to share photos and said our goodbyes. It had been a whirlwind of three weeks, and I would never forget those weeks or the beautiful family of friends I had made.

 The trip was so amazing, it had put me in just the right spirit to go back to Colombia, ready to carpe my final diems of this year long trip! Colombia, here I come again….