Ottsworld Travel Experiences » Solo Perspective

The Ecstasy of Unpacking

admin — Tue, 08 Jun 2010 04:45:30 +0000

I have a new appreciation for hangers

When I meet people, I live in fear of people asking me ‘the’ question; but eventually after some small talk, the question always comes.

“Where do you live?”

It’s an innocent question, but it throws me every time. I normally look at the person and size them up before I answer. I try to determine how deep I can go with them.

If I don’t think they would understand or be interested in my unconventional tale, I tell them that I live in New York, but travel a lot.
If I think that they may be interested in travel or world geography, or simply know where SE Asia is, I tell them that the last place I lived was in Vietnam.
If I think they have a passport that has taken them beyond Mexico or the Caribbean, and they have ever picked up a National Geographic magazine, then I tell them that I live out of a suitcase.

Reactions tend to vary. Some people want to know more and some just go oh, and move on; too much for their brain to comprehend. Or maybe they are just trying to figure out if my answer is the politically correct way to say “I’m a homeless person”.

My mailing address

I have struggled to give my ‘situation’ a name and tried out a few words such as:

Nomad
Vagabond
Hobo (my niece’s personal favorite)
Homeless
House-sitter

Nothing really feels right. However the fact is I don’t have a home. I have an address where my mail is sent, but I don’t live there.

It’s become the norm for me to live out of a few suitcases now for about 3 ½ years. Yes. While living in Vietnam I did have some homes where I actually unpacked and stayed for a few months. But they were always semi-permanent and I never seemed to stay at any apartment or room for longer than about 3 months. I’ve been back in the US for 6 months, yet I’m still moving from place to place every 2 weeks, never staying anywhere long enough to unpack.

Right now everything I’ve been living off of since December fits in 2 suitcases, a small backpack and a purse. In the new ‘green’ terms, I have a small footprint. Overall, I love having the freedom to move around, house-sit and try on different lifestyles. I love not having to shop for home stuff (it saves a bunch of time in your week…think about it). Plus, it’s a good workout lugging suitcases around! However, on the flip side, you never get the joy of hanging your clothes on a hanger…ever. Since I’m normally a guest in people’s (or my family’s) homes, I always have to be the ‘good guest’; never leave things sitting out, always clean up, always make up the bed/air mattress, and never leave your toothbrush on the sink in the bathroom.

The best thing about living out of a suitcase is…

…the complete new appreciation you develop for closets

I currently find myself in a situation that I haven’t been in since August of 2009 – I’m in one place for 6 weeks. I’m in Boston house sitting for a friend who’s in San Diego. I have her beautiful apartment to myself.

Utilizing the counter

Week one in Boston and I’ve practically had orgasmic experiences simply unpacking my entire suitcase and hanging my clothes on hangers. I’ve unpacked my toiletry bag and yes, my toothbrush is sitting on the bathroom counter. My lotion is in a cabinet, my dirty clothes get thrown in a proper bin as opposed to a plastic sack, my shoes are in the closet, and once this week – I didn’t make the bed. Joy!

It’s not just about unpacking, it’s about ‘living’ in a community as opposed to visiting it. I now have a plastic card dangling from my keychain which provides me discounts at the local grocery store. I joined a gym in the neighborhood for 2 months. I have a bus pass.

I’m ‘normal’…well….at least for 6 weeks!

Let’s here from you world travelers out there – what’s the best thing about living out of a suitcase?

Ups and Downs of Solo Travel

admin — Tue, 01 Jun 2010 05:02:24 +0000

Going it alone...

After 26 days traveling with my father in Nepal, we parted at the Delhi airport. I found myself choking back tears as I gave him a hug and we parted. Why was I, a person who typically travels solo, crying about being solo again? I wish I knew. I kind of chalk it up to being an overly emotional person. However I think it’s always hard when you get used to spending time with someone for a month and then they leave again and you are back on your own; no one to lean on but yourself. There’s a period of sadness that goes along with that.

Don’t get me wrong – I love solo travel for many, many reasons. However, it’s something that you have to adjust into and find your rhythm. Every time I strike out on my own I have to get used to it again.

The beautiful blue pool

I was headed to Sri Lanka, another new country to mark off my list! However, I wasn’t merely going to give it a check mark; I was heading to Sri Lanka to hit the beach…in luxury. I have friends from Vietnam who own a large beach villa in Sri Lanka called Auraliya, and when they heard I was traveling to Sri Lanka they kindly offered the villa for me to stay at in exchange for some photography they needed for future marketing.

I arrived in Sri Lanka around midnight and still had a 3 hour drive ahead of me to the villa just south of Galle. I made it through customs and I stared around confused at the appliances for sale in the airport…something I had never seen before. Magazines yes, dish washers no. I looked past the refrigerators, stoves, and washers, and saw a man holding a sign with my name on it…bingo…that was my driver. I got in the comfy car, he gave me a pillow and I slept for the next 3 hours until we pulled up at Auraliya.

I felt as if I were Dorthy, who had fallen asleep and been transported to Oz…a very luxurious Oz. A man in a sarong welcomed me, and kindly led me through an entrance down a long walkway and into a room. I could hear the waves crashing and smell the sea air. My day of travel had sucked the energy out of me and I went straight to bed.

Waking up in Luxury

The next morning I looked around the room in amazement, luxury was an understatement. I proceeded open up the blinds to have the beach and crashing waves meet me as if they were personally saying “Good Morning Sherry”. I wandered out of the room into the open air pathways when a big, floppy black lab came to greet me. She bounded down the pathway and gave me a good licking; this villa came complete with a loving, loyal dog…talk about perks!

I went to one of the large dining pavilions and was greeted by the same man who greeted me the previous night, Sunny. What a perfect name for a perfect place. He motioned for me to sit down at the long 12 person dining table in which there was one little place setting…just for me. I felt a bit dwarfed as plates of fresh fruit, eggs, breads, and bacon were placed in front of me. I felt like Imelda Marcos having shoes paraded in front of me…it was surreal.

As I sat and ate my beautifully carved fresh fruit, drank my strong coffee, and stared out across the long expanse of table towards the crashing waves, I thought, “It sure sucks to not have someone to share this with.” I imagined how amazing the place would be with my friends or family surrounding me at the table with witty banter and mimosas flowing. But there was just me; and 11 empty chairs. However I did have a beautiful black lab at my feet waiting for my next move to follow me wherever I went.

Kala

I sat with Sunny and planned the rest of the menu for my 5 days at the villa. There was actually a staff of 5 people running the villa and they made food to order. Once I chose a menu, they’d go shopping and get everything they needed for the week…including beer.

Let’s go through the math – 12 chairs, 6 bedrooms, 5 bathrooms, 5 staff of people waiting on me, 3 pavilions, and 1 dog; I felt dwarfed. Needless to say, I never wanted for a thing. I finished a drink and someone was at my side asking if I wanted another. I got up to go to the sitting pavilion and the dog dutifully followed me. I set down an empty glass and it was whisked away before it hit the table.

That first day I laid around in ‘luxury shock’ – this isn’t the normal way I travel; it took a bit of getting used to. However I also managed to get out my camera and start my process of photographing the grounds; as the dog, Kala, followed my every move. I felt a bit tired and sluggish and wasn’t sure if it was due to all of the attention lavished upon me, or if it was because just a 3 days ago I was hiking in the Himalayas and now I was walking around at sea level…maybe my body was in shock.

The big dining table

However as the day went on, a headache came on, I was exhausted, and felt achy. This was the beginning of something serious. Why oh why did this have to happen now…when I was in my villa of luxury? However, in some respects it happened at the best time. Being sick and alone with a staff of people waiting on you and a sympathetic dog is better than being sick and alone in a hostel bunk bed.

For the next 5 days, I walked around in a daze with a fever, sinus headache, and generally feeling of death. Did I say I love traveling solo earlier? Well, I meant to say love traveling solo unless I’m sick. Then the love morphs into a pathetic mound of self-pity. For some reason – the only time I really ever get homesick when I travel is when I get sick. As a solo traveler, when you are sick, there’s no one to lean on, and it triggers a longing for me that I have a hard time dealing with.

The staff tried their best to make me feel comfortable; I had ample places to choose from to lie around and take naps. I finally felt lucid enough the 3rd afternoon to take a tuk tuk into town to go to the pharmacy. The pharmacist listened to my ailments and told me to go see a doctor in fear of me having H1N1. I bought some cough drops, Panadol, and tiger balm instead and went back to the villa defeated. The staff continued to try their best to make me feel better. I started trying all of the local remedies – they would put me under a sheet with boiling water to try to steam the illness out of me. They would bring me ‘special’ mixes of herbal tea which did seem to help a bit. I think the staff were amused I would try all of these ‘local’ remedies – but when you feel like death – you’ll try anything.

I was alone; alone in paradise. I couldn’t really even enjoy the amazing surroundings I was in properly which sent me into more of a funk. I promised myself I wouldn’t worry about it and instead one day I would have a ‘do-over’ and come back to Auraliya villa to take walks along the beach and hopefully next time be surrounded by friends and family!

By the end of the week, I had left the villa once…and walked on the beach twice.
I’m absolutely fine traveling alone until sickness strikes, then I just want my mom…funny how we never get too old to want our moms to take care of us. In lieu of my mom, a generous staff of locals and a dog will do.

All of your solo travelers out there…what do you do when you get sick on the road?

If you are interested in learning more about renting Auraliya villa for and unforgettable beach stay with family or friends – check out the website at www.auraliya.com

My Three (Girlie) Travel Secrets

admin — Tue, 15 Dec 2009 13:54:36 +0000

One of my best friends (who I love dearly…Angie…ahem) always sends me (and other victims) these crazy ‘chain’ emails. She always begins the email by apologizing for sending it…which I find a little weird. You know the kind, the chain emails where you need to fill something out about yourself and send it one to 5 other friends else you’ll have bad dating luck the rest of your life. I really dislike this…I already have a bad dating life – do I really need to tempt fate and make it worse…is worse even possible? Regardless, even though I love my friends who send these (Angie…ahem), I’m not fond of the concept of e-chain letters; in fact, I hate them. So when my travel friends started ‘tagging’ me in a game of virtual tag, I had the same feeling of irritation.

I tried to ignore it at first. But soon I started getting ‘e-tagged’ so many times that I couldn’t really ignore it. I finally looked at the details of this ‘game’, and to my surprise I found out there were no doomsday consequences; my dating life wouldn’t be ruined, my luck wouldn’t run out, I wouldn’t get fat, I wouldn’t turn into a bad cook, my friends wouldn’t leave me, and I wouldn’t have bad travel karma. After realizing that this wasn’t a typical virtual chain game, instead it was a virtual tag game where travel experts shared their best travel secrets. I was intrigued.

Soon I started reading all of my peers (and taggers) posts about their travel secrets. There was some great travel advice out there from my fellow blogger friends such as Barbara from Hole in the Donut, Jodi from Legal Nomads, Shannon from Travel Tips and Secrets, Heather Cowper from Heather on Her Travels, and Donna from My Itchy Travel Feet. Ok – maybe I should jump into this game…there are no consequences and you, my readers, get to benefit; what the hell.

The Tag game was started by Katie at Tripbase. The rules are that you are to write a post giving 3 travel secrets, and then tag 5 other bloggers to do the same. I can only bring myself to do the first thing…write the post. Considering how I feel about ‘tag games and chain letters’, I can’t go thru with tagging other people…so the buck stops here for my travel secrets I guess. If you want to see other bloggers secrets, then go to the links I put above; they offer some super travel advice!

Since lots of bloggers are sharing travel secrets, I felt like I needed to tackle tips that were a bit different so I decided to focus my travel secrets on unusual tips for women. Men – sorry, you can surf to some sports site if you want now.

1. Leave Your Vanity Behind
Since I’ve been back in NYC after being on the road for 15 months, I’ve been reflecting a lot on how I’ve evolved. 3+ years ago I was a hip business professional working for international retailers. I had more shoes, clothes, and handbags than there were days of the year to wear them; my life was about vanity. When I started traveling I had a hard time accepting my new backpacker style. I tried to hang on to my vanity; I had a hair dryer and make-up in my backpack for the first few months…then I just let it go…and it felt great. I know it’s easy for me to say to not pack your hair straightener or makeup or 5 pairs of shoes…but trust me, you will be happier without these things if you are doing long term travel. You may find yourself feeling more free than ever – I did. I got comfortable seeing my face without make-up, my hair without hair products, and flat shoes instead of heels. If you feel like you still want a bit of ‘flash’ when you travel, then I suggest that you add flash to an average outfit by accessorizing – jewelry is small and can be the focal point of an outfit. So are pashminas. Both of these things are plentiful in many developing countries for cheap…so just buy them there and don’t carry them in your bag! Plus, it supports the locals – win/win for everyone!

2. You WILL find Tampons in Other Parts of the World
This tip comes from a recent conversation I had with Amanda and Jen from The Lost Girls World and my biz partner Michaela of Briefcase to Backpack. We were chatting about common questions that we get asked and talk turned to tampons. I’m here to tell you that you can find tampons in other parts of the world – so you don’t have to take a year’s supply. Sure, some places are harder than others…so check out your itinerary and have some extras available (but not a whole year’s worth!). I lived in SE Asia for a year and you could find tampons in grocery stores for expats. You may need to ask someone where the expats shop, but that will get you pointed in the right direction. For travel, you can’t beat OB tampons – they are super small and barely take up any space. Yeah – some people aren’t comfortable with the lack of applicator – but the compact size it worth it!

3. You Don’t Have to Answer Every Question
As a solo female traveler – safety is always a concern for me. So when I was in Bali and a local guy asked me where I was staying, immediately my ‘safety radar’ switched on and said “I’m not going to tell you that!” As I continued to travel, I realized that being questioned is part of being a traveler. I was constantly being asked very personal questions,

How old are you?
Where are you from?
Where are you staying?
Are you traveling alone?
Are you married?
Are you with friends?

These questions tend to happen more frequently in developing countries for some reason. I think the culture and personal space issues tend to be quite different than our western culture. Plus – many of these locals don’t know much English and these types of sentences tend to be the first and only thing they learn – so that’s why they ask them. I can remember teaching all of my ESL students the phrases “Are you married?” and “How old are you?”…yet these are things I generally don’t ask people personally! Regardless, if you are traveling alone and you get grilled with personal questions…you DON’T HAVE to answer these questions. In fact, assess the situation and use your head, if you don’t want people to know where you are staying then don’t answer the questions. Instead, start asking the person other things about their country or area, they are normally happy to share information about their country and culture; and you’ve changed the subject.

Hope you enjoyed! Please leave a comment with your girlie tips – I’d love to hear them. Plus I promise you it won’t hurt your dating life!

In Search of…A Plan

admin — Wed, 12 Aug 2009 13:39:26 +0000

Something colorful in Ulanbatar

After arriving a day late to Ulanbatar, I had a lot of ground to make up. I arrived with no plans except for a guest room booked for one night. My plan was to make no plans and to figure it out when I arrived. In addition, I had another goal, I really wanted to travel with other people. Granted – I love solo travel, but for the last few big trips I have been solo and I find that being completely solo, in remote places, where no one speaks English is really challenging (see my Nepal posts). Sure, I proved I could do it in Nepal and in the Philippines, but I would have loved to have a little company to share the experience with. So in addition to making some itinerary plans, I also had to meet some strangers and convince them to let me go with them! It’s like dating all over again…ugh!

I had been conversing via email with a number of guest houses that said they may be able to help place me with some other traveling companions. Some guest houses were willing to work with me more than others. Idre and Golden Gobi Guest Houses went out of their way to try to find a solution for me by having me join another group already in progress. On the other hand Khongor Guest House didn’t even attempt to help me – and I was staying at their hostel! Idre and Golden Gobi came up with a few options, but nothing really felt right to me. I travel by intuition and feeling. When the right idea comes to me, I will know it. In the meantime I was spending a lot of time going between guest houses and getting frustrated with nothing feeling right.

East Meets West

Some countries are easier to travel through solo than others. On a scale of 1 (worst) to 10 (best), Mongolia seemed like a 3 to me at this point. I spent a whole day going from guest house to guest house trying to figure out if there was a group I could join up with, going to the same areas that I wanted to go to and working within my timeframes. I felt as if I should be wearing a signboard, standing out on Peace Avenue (aka Tourist Main street in Ulanbatar) reading “Single traveler, someone please travel with me. I want to go to the Gobi from July 20 – Aug. 1. Seasoned traveler, doesn’t snore, and will share my tent and packet of gum.” Or a higher tech alternative to the signboard idea was to simply get Ulanbatar guesthouses merged onto an onramp of the web; make a little Facebook page for them serving as an online message board for single travelers looking for people to travel with in Ulanbatar. I had it all designed out in my head as I imagined how much easier it would make this inefficient process. Anyone from Mongolia reading this…look into Facebook…it’s a super idea you can steal from me.

Ulanbatar Park

As I wandered trying to find a solution, a solution actually came to me. I was frustrated about not making any progress so had sat down in a park outside of the Golden Gobi Guesthouse. I use the word park lightly as the parks were run down, sad little places that looked like a scene from the cold war. A Canadian couple who I had seen earlier in the day at the guesthouse came outside and introduced themselves. They said that they were in the ‘lounge’ when they heard me talking to the tour rep and overheard what I was looking to do. They saw me outside and came to me to recommend a travel company they felt would yield all of the cultural experiences I was looking for in my Mongolia travels. They had just returned form a trip in the Gobi with a Eco Tourism company called Ger to Ger. I had actually researched Ger to Ger before and was impressed and intrigued with their cultural immersion travel. As we sat in the pathetic little park talking about their experiences, their kindness overwhelmed me. I suggested we go discuss over a beer and we happily spent the rest of the night together drinking beer and eating pizza sharing travel stories. See – these are things that don’t happen when you travel with others; these encounters happen when you are solo – and this is one of the reasons I like to travel solo – you meet wonderful people! They sold me on the Ger to Ger concept; it seemed absolutely perfect for the type of travel I wanted to do. I planned to go to the office the next day to choose an itinerary.

Turning Prayers

I sorted the Ger to Ger plans out the next day, but I still had one big problem. I had to work at finding some travel partners to come with me! I was prepared to go alone, but really didn’t want to. I had a day to try to find some other travelers that I thought I could get along with and convince to go with me. Considering my eternal single status and my inability to even get a date in the last 3 years – my odds weren’t in my favor. However the travel Gods shined down upon me the next morning and my potential companions showed up at my doorstep…errrr…my hostel kitchen. As I was getting my tea and having the meager piece of dry bread that Khonger called ‘breakfast’, I met two female, thirty-something English teachers who had just arrived off the train from Russia and were looking to make travel plans. They lived in Vienna and had been traveling on the Trans Siberian Express. I used all of my salesman techniques and told them about Ger to Ger; they were interested! A threesome was born! My trip was finally getting off the ground! It’s amazing how well things actually worked out considering my lack of direction the first day.

We had to wait another day in Ulanbatar before we left for the desert so I spent the time touring around Ulanbatar and dodging hail…yes, hail.

While I was there Ulanbatar actually had some deadly flooding. As the hail came down and the streets started flooding, all I could do was stand under an awning with the locals and watch the wrath of mother nature. After spending 4 days there, I can’t say that Ulanbatar is a great city, instead it had a cold demeanor about it. Parks were sparse and looked like they were abandoned, the buildings crumbling down or in desperate need of paint, and dark stairways led to sad little guesthouses. To top it off, it had to be one of the worst cities I’ve ever been to when it comes to petty theft. In the main tourist area on Peace Avenue there was no peace; there were only pickpockets. I never once felt safe or at ease walking around the streets there.

View Ulanbatar photography

Monastery

I tried out all of the coffee shops and pizza joints that I could find knowing that once I left for the desert coffee and food without mutton would be a rarity. I also walked to the monastery and wandered around the grounds there with my camera. The monastery was nice, but I found the ger neighborhood leading up to it even more interesting. Dirt ‘streets’ and fenced in gers gave it a very eerie, closed-off feeling. I found it unusual that every living area was fenced in; providing a territorial feeling in such a vast, open country.

Clearly the best thing about Ulanbatar was leaving it with a travel plan and new travel mates! Gobi or Bust!

Leaving on a Jet Plane…Tonight!

admin — Thu, 16 Jul 2009 13:00:19 +0000

Just a quick update – I’m on the move once again; I’m taking a vacation….yeah! Ever since I made the decision a year ago to come back to Asia and live in the area, I knew that one of the things I wanted to accomplish was to round out my Asia travel experience. There’s one Asian country that has eluded me to this point, but it has been very high on my ‘must see’ list – Mongolia!

Tonight I leave for a 17 day adventure to Mongolia – solo of course. I can hardly wait to get to the unpopulated, unpolluted, quiet, open spaces of Mongolia. It will be such a change from Saigon – a much needed change!

So – I’m not sure what kind of internet access I will have – but I’ve schedule some posts to appear when I’m gone – so my blog will still be working, while I will be out having fun drinking fermented yak milk and learning how to wrestle Mongolian style. I don’t have an itinerary yet – will figure that out when I get there, but it will include cultural experiences no doubt and hopefully some fabulous photography.

See you in August!

You can’t handle the truth…

admin — Thu, 08 Jan 2009 07:30:37 +0000

Happy Buddha or Crazed Buddha? Hard to tell...

I must apologize, I’ve been withholding the truth a bit. I love having a blog but there are times where I really feel that it is a huge burden; the last 4 months was burdensome. Let me back up – I started journaling 11 years ago to cope with an emotional time of my life. The only way I could get through it was to write down what was going on in my head else I think I might have went crazy; or some might say crazier. Journaling was my medicine, my way to stay sane and understand my feelings and emotions; my pen was my therapist. In 2006 when I decided to take off from my work life and travel I decided to keep on online journal – Ottsworld. At that time I put this together for a few friends and family to follow my journey. I traveled to 23 countries, and it grew into a large number of people reading about my journey and my personal life; people I didn’t know. However, through Ottsworld they cam to know me and make assumptions about my character; which were normally rather flattering assumptions that painted me a better, stronger person than what I really felt I was.

However, when I started Ottsworld, I stopped my physical journaling. I fired my paper therapist and outsourced it to my keyboard and Ottsworld. Actually, this was fine since I needed very little therapy at the time; I was literally having the time of my life traveling around the world. Sure, there were tough days and weeks, but I was able to get through them. 2008 marked the beginning of my ‘what’s next?’ phase of my life and I wish I could say that it’s been as stable as the last few years, but it hasn’t. 2008 has been a challenging year and those challenges seemed to multiply these last few months when I moved alone abroad. But I still didn’t journal, nor did I really let on to many people what was really going on in my head as having a mental melt down for the internet world to see isn’t really what I wanted to do.

I miss my emotional outlet. Maybe this is because I don’t have any close friends in Vietnam to talk things through and I’m tired of burdening my close friends back home, or maybe because this year was harder than most, or maybe because I’m finally in over my head with challenge; whatever it is, I need to get it out. I’m tired of being guarded, it takes so much time and energy; therefore, I will let my guard down a bit and see if it helps.

While in Hong Kong, I picked up a local free paper of events to find out what cheap thing I could do on NYE and came across this horoscope for 2009. It stopped me in my tracks. Here it is – word for word:

Free Will Astrology in HK magazine.
Aquarius – Imagine you’re driving down a very wide highway that’s 50 lanes across even though there are no lines dividing one lane from another. Speed limit signs aren’t posted, and some vehicles are zipping along in zigzag paths at over 100 mph while others crawl along like old-lady turtles. Now and then you’ve got to weave your way through a congested area where many on-ramps all feed into the road simultaneously. You haven’t seen an off-ramp yet, and you’re not sure where to get off anyway. I figure, Aquarius, that 2008 had some resemblance to the scenario I just described. Luckily, I predict that no later than your birthday, you will find an off-ramp and exit onto an uncluttered backroad with great scenery.

Feeling a bit unfocused...

I read this and thought, I couldn’t have put it any better; and it’s a traffic reference – perfect for Vietnam. This last year has been hard mainly because there are so many options and I just don’t know what to do. Giving up my possessions and my home was one of the first challenges. It’s great to be unencumbered, by property but it’s also harder than you can imagine. The real challenge though came with my move to Vietnam. I have so many different options here that it makes my head hurt. Some of them involve living frugally, some involve taking risks, some involve getting back in the corporate world; all of these things are terrifying to me. There is no clear answer and as I sit and wonder what to do, I feel like I lose a little piece of myself every day. I don’t know if I’m a business woman, a backpacker, a city person, a country person, a writer, a photographer, a teacher, an independent person, a social person, a positive person or a pessimist. I feel like I am a little of all of these things, which means that I do many things, but I do nothing REALLY well. This conflicts with my type A personality that desperately wants to do everything REALLY well. Most of the time I feel like I know nothing, and I’m simply masquerading as all of these things just waiting for someone to blow my cover.

The worst part about it is that I have no one to help me understand what path to take. Many people ask me if I ever get lonely. My answer prior to this year was “no, not really. I enjoy being on my own and having immense freedom. Sure there are bad days, but they go by quickly and they don’t outweigh the good days.” However, the bad days don’t seem to go by so quick in Vietnam. It started with Nepal and has continued in Vietnam; I’ve never felt more alone in my life. Sure, I know that it’s an effect of moving to a new place/country and not really knowing anyone, but this on top of trying to figure out answers to my life direction isn’t helping. I’m just going in circles and not getting anything done. I don’t rest, and I don’t relax. When I travel I can find beauty in many things, but those beautiful things now seem strange, confusing, and frustrating. How quickly we lose our innocence.

I used to say that a good relationship was one where you liked the person you were when surrounded by that person. Some people bring out the best in you and some bring out sides of myself that I’d rather not see. So far, Vietnam and all of this massive change has brought out sides of me that I’d rather keep rather buried; it’s not a healthy relationship. After a really terrible Christmas Eve where I missed my family, friends, and felt more alone than ever; I woke up Christmas day and decided to take control of my life again. I’m tired of being a person where things happen to me; I want to get back to being a person that makes things happen.

I still don’t have any answers, but I am trying to get back to the person that I am proud to be. I know that this is all a part of the culture shock of relocating; I understand this, but it doesn’t make it any easier to swallow. I will wait for my off ramp and see where it leads me; hopefully into the arms of a decent living, some new friends/relationships, and much needed sanity.

I Will Survive

admin — Sun, 16 Nov 2008 08:52:19 +0000

Sticky Situation

Let’s take inventory. I’ve been in Saigon for two months now. It’s honestly been good and bad. Maybe bad is the wrong word…it’s more like “challenging”. Considering I’m a challenge junkie, one would think that I could have rolled with all of this massive change in my life a bit better, but alas…I am human.

I met a roommate and that ended up falling through (not off to a good start)
I went to a huge Ball the first weekend I was here (forcing me to shop…oh darn)
I know three people that have contracted Denge Fever (and unfortunately I’m living with them in the same house)
I’m the proud owner of my own motorbike helmet (I’m a safety girl!)
I’ve been caught in downpours while on motorbike taxis at least 8 times showing up to work dripping wet.
I have had one ‘nice attempt’ at an American cheeseburger, a pretty good Ruben sandwich, and tons of great Asian food – and have still managed to lose weight!
I am getting very little sleep thanks to the stress of trying to figure out answers for my life.
I have met the head of at least 6 companies here. (Networking has been a breeze in such a small expat community)
I have had 2 job offers outside of teaching.
I’ve eaten in establishments with rats running around at least 3 times. (keep in mind, these are only the ones I saw)
I’ve had one bloody bike crash. (but did end up with a nice pedicure when the day was over)
I have seen at least 3 other people crash or get hit by cars. (yes –I have insurance)
I have one friend who was hit crossing the street – and then had his wallet stolen on top of that!
I still don’t have a place to live!

I suppose things could be better, they could be worse; regardless, it’s definitely an adventure. At least I’m not living over a buffalo barn any longer. That is a phrase that I will take to my grave I’m sure.

A wet Commute

It’s strange, I have really good days when I’m on the back of a motorbike and feeling on top of the world; loving the fact that I am somehow conquering all of my inhibitions and fears and tackling the unknown. Then the next day, I hit a low; a day where I really wonder if I can make it. The mind games begin and intensify when you are solo. I wonder if I want to teach. I wonder if I can deal with all of the hardships of living in Vietnam (and there are many). I wonder if I’ve made a mistake. I wonder if there’s any way that I will be able to really stick it out. I’m coming to the sobering realization that I not only took on a new career that I am unsure of, but I’ve moved to a foreign country where the culture is very different. There is a vast difference between traveling in a country and living in a country; I think I knew that before I came, but now I really know it. It’s no longer a simple thing to go buy milk at the store. In fact, buying milk at the store can now take me all day. That last statement is probably pointless since I can’t buy milk anyway as I don’t have a kitchen or fridge to put it in!

He's definitely having a bad day!

I honestly hate this roller coaster that I’m on; mainly because I hate to feel weak and I hate to doubt myself. Yet both of those feelings tend to creep in and send me in a downward spiral about every other day. I hate feeling distraught with no one really to talk to except my computer.

I don’t mean for this to sound gloomy, because I suppose if I really think about my time here – it has been pretty damn good. I have met some super nice people that will remain friends for life and who have taken me under their wing. These friends have graciously let me stay in her home with her family until I find a place to live. I have met friends that include me in social outings such as an opening of a new restaurant and boutique hotel and ate free sushi all night…I never complain about free sushi. So – things could be worse…much worse. I could be back in America being inundated with elections coverage and bombarded with news on how our economy is crap and taking down the rest of the world with it.

Overall, I’m surviving, trying to figure out how to stand still for a while. Thanks to everyone who has weighed in on my VOTE of what to do with my Vietnam life. I have made some decisions which really incorporate all three options – they involve still teaching part time for a while, doing business/IT consulting off and on, and working on writing…none of this yields very much money – but at least it all yields freedom.

Tears for Fears

admin — Thu, 11 Sep 2008 13:20:35 +0000

The view over Central Park

One year and fifty weeks ago I was in the same place. Sitting in a plane preparing to leave US soil for an unknown amount of time. The last few days I have bounced between feeling scared, sad, excited, and mad. I don’t know what to expect on my own, I’m terribly sad to say goodbye to friends yet again, I’m thrilled to be chasing a dream, and I’m mad because I’m on this roller coaster of tears when I should be excited beyond belief. This just once again reminds me that nothing comes without a price.

My various suitcases

I’ve spent the last 5 days running around trying to prepare to leave. For those of you who pack the night before a trip, you probably think that 5 days of prep and packing is absurd. Well, then you’ve never been on a long term trip. Just try to imagine trip prep for a journey duration of one to two years. I am not simply talking about packing a suitcase; I’m talking about administrative stuff such as taxes, voting, insurance, banking, medical files, phone numbers, and getting all of the items that I won’t have access to in developing countries that I may need/want. To top is off, imagine doing all of this when you don’t really have access to your stuff or your home (mine is all in storage). I felt like a raving bitch most days, but I was perplexed when my friends kept telling me how amazed they were that I was so calm and in control. I was completely paranoid when they told me this as if it were their way of making fun of me. I was positive I was the embodiment of Cybil this last week no matter what they said to me.

NYC Skyline over Central Park...Goodbye..

I find it disturbing that tears are in my eyes now as I depart the skyline of NYC fading into the distance and trying to squeak in one last cell phone call with friends before retiring my US phone number yet again. It’s disturbing because 8 months ago I was in tears when I was flying back to the US after being gone for 16 months. I was scared to come back to NYC, sad that my journey had ended, intimidated to see my friends again after I had been so self sufficient for so long. I don’t consider myself an emotional person, but if I’m crying leaving and crying coming back; maybe I just need to come to grips with the fact that I am an emotional mess. No wonder why I’m single…this is everything men hate about women…crying, for no good reason.

Regardless, I feel better now; a few tears always seem to help. What lies ahead is scary to me and I know that the tears don’t represent sadness; the tears are tied to fear. Whether it is fear of returning or fear of leaving and embarking out into the unknown, fear is a powerful thing. Hell, just ask any political campaign manager, they’ll tell you how fear can get votes. I don’t know that I will ever conquer the tears and the fears; but I know that I won’t let it control me. That’s why I’m on this 25 hour flight back into developing countries starting a new job that I’m terrified about. I want to be free; even if the price is a few tears.

Travel vs. Motherhood

Sherry — Wed, 09 Jul 2008 01:27:32 +0000

Is motherhood for me?

I’m doing a different type of travel these last few weeks. I’m traveling to catch up. Catch up to what you may ask; friends. This summer is about enjoying the cool summers of the northern US, fighting off mosquitoes, and having reunions with old friends. I’m staying with my sister and her kids at a lake cabin near Minneapolis and taking this opportunity to reconnect with my old colleagues and friends; after all, I spent 4 ½ years living in Minneapolis back in my 20’s. This journey through time has really made me think about the choices I have made in my past, as well as the choices I have made for my future. It has also made me think about motherhood since most of the friends that I’ve reconnected with are now mothers of multiple kids at various ages – a foreign concept to me.

When I was a little girl, I had an active imagination and generally figured out ways to entertain myself since my brother and sister were older and I was considered an annoyance. I loved playing house. I loved pretending I had kids to take care of, to cook for, to clean up after, and to tell people what to do. Then I graduated on to Barbies where I had a whole imaginary life of families, homes, relationships, and picking the right outfit to wear for the right fictitious occasion. Then I moved on to playing ‘work’. I would play at my dad’s old desk, make a rol-a-dex from scratch and pretend that I had important meetings to attend, people to see, people to fire, things to staple, and reports to create. At that point, I don’t ever think I thought about playing house again.

However the last few weeks have landed me back in my imaginary world of playing house. I’ve been surrounded by kids and families. I’ve been entertaining kids, cooking for kids, disciplining kids, teaching kids (mostly appropriate things)…and I generally have no idea what I’m doing. I am the youngest in my family, so I never really had any young kids or babies around me. Instead, I was too busy trying to be more grown up so that my sister and brother may be interested in playing with me or at least stop teasing me and beating me up! These last few weeks of being surrounded by kids and families has been fun, yet exhausting. It’s a bit reminiscent of being a middle manager in corporate America, so I’ve had to dust off my managing skills. Motherhood or Management – it’s all the same to me.

These last few weeks I’ve done things that are scarier and more challenging than climbing Kilimanjaro. I found myself driving a minivan full of kids to Wal-Mart to do the grocery shopping. My latest adventure was to take 4 girls to 3 different softball practices in different locations, cheer them on, yell at them to play nice, tell them to stop fighting with each other, and then going for pizza at the local pizza joint. It freaks me out to think that the strangers that look at me think that they are my kids…how can that be when I still feel like I’m 22 and I clearly don’t look like a mother…or do I? God help me. We’ll delve into that in another post when I have a drink within reach.

Photo: Drained lake Delton – all that is left is mud.
I even drove out to meet my best friend from high school, Audra. She lives in Milwaukee so we decided to meet halfway across Wisconsin. She brought her young kids (2 ½ yrs and 14 months) with her for the 2 hour drive, and they watched Dora the Explorer. I on the other hand drove 3 hours and listened to a gruesome book on tape about children soldiers in Sierra Leone in the 90’s. We were worlds apart. Our worlds intermingled in the heart of cheesy American resort towns – Wisconsin Dells. Some of you may have heard of the Dells recently in the news when rains of biblical proportions dumped so much water into Lake Delton that it literally burst its banks. Tens of thousands of gallons of lake water barreled through the woods, taking with it a roadway, several houses, boats, fish and lake bed. It emptied into the nearby Wisconsin River and was gone in hours. Definitely a site to see.

We met at the Copa Cabana Resort and water park so that the kids could be entertained between us trying to catch up on 4 years of not seeing each other. There was no Barry Manilow or Pina Coladas at the Copa Cabana….instead there were pirate ships and kiddy slides. I channeled my motherhood genes that had long ago shriveled up and dried out and played as if I were Captain Hook on the high seas in between talking to Audra about travel, New York, motherhood, her career, and diapers.

As I drove back to the other side of Wisconsin after lunch, I thought about just how challenging and hard motherhood is. I frequently have people tell me how brave I am for doing what I’m doing with my life and travels. But as I watch all of my friends as mothers, I am in awe. That is one challenge that I wouldn’t be able or have the desire to meet. I find it much easier to fly off to strange countries and new cities and try to integrate in foreign places as compared to changing diapers and raising kids. Sure, that makes me a bit unusual, but I’m ok with that. I much prefer being Aunt Sherry than “Mom, (insert name here)’s hitting me!!” Plus – if I were to be a mom, that would necessitate me actually having to find someone to date that I didn’t get annoyed by eventually…and that may just be impossible.

Photo: My 6 nieces – all together for the 4th of July
Thanks to all of my old friends who have come on out to see me – it’s been like a giant summer reunion for me. Sometimes it leaves me a bit baffled, wondering how in the world I have ended up on the small path that I am on and not on the interstate of motherhood and familydome. I guess I just figure that someone has to take the path less traveled.

Family Ties – Singapore

Solo Travel & My New Writing Gig

Sherry — Thu, 29 May 2008 15:08:38 +0000

Going it Solo

I was recently asked to become a regular contributor for one of my favorite travel websites – The Indie Travel Podcast. Their site has a wealth of information and downloadable podcasts for the long term traveler. I utilized many of their podcasts during my travels! Plus, Craig and Linda (the hosts of the podcasts and site) ,are living out my dream of teaching ESL, traveling, and helping others travel through their website/podcasts. They have been a huge help to me in my planning of my next big step of teaching and traveling.

I have agreed to put out one travel article a month to start…so my first one was published this week!
My first article was on Solo Travel – One Isn’t the Loneliest Number – you can read by clicking here!

In this article, Sherry Ott tells us why solo travel is right for her and probably for you – not least because you spend less time waiting for your friends in the toilet.

If you like my writing, and want to see some more as well as check out another great travel website and maybe even download a podcast or two…then check it out!

No Related Post

Feline Visitation Rights

Sherry — Sun, 04 May 2008 13:56:43 +0000

sniff, sniff...

Photo: Since I’m in the process of selling off all of my posessions, my friend Linda sent this photo to me as a joke!

I used to say that my cat, Palucci, had love for only one person; that person used to be me. However, when I decided to do my long term travel last year I knew I had to come up with a new home for her. This task was not as easy as one might think. Sure, she’s cute, well kept, soft, playful, loving, cuddly…but only to me; everyone else she hates. Not only hates, but uses her good looks and fuzziness to lure people in and then bite them. I keep the Neosporin on hand as blood has been drawn many times. Her feisty attitude never really bothered me, in fact I kind of liked the fact that I was the only one in the world that she loved. She protected me…from everyone. She hated men that I dated, kids, friends; except she did have a bit of a soft spot for my mom, but who doesn’t?

I had an equal amount of love for her, I had her since she was a kitten 9 years ago. After 7 years, I became allergic to her; but even then I opted to take a myriad of allergy medicine every day instead of getting rid of her.

My good friend Linda was witness to my emotional melt down two years ago; no one could take my cat while I traveled and I was completely distraught trying to figure out what to do with Palucci. I was leaving in 3 months for my journey and needed a solution. I couldn’t just leave Palucci behind; she was my family. Linda took pity on me saying “I’ll take your cat if you want; I was going to get one anyway. I wanted a nice cat, but that’s ok, it’s only for a year.” Problem solved!

I took Palucci to Linda’s home in Storrs, Connecticut a few weeks before I left the country. It was a tearful parting, but I knew she was in good hands…Linda that is. I knew that my cat only had love for one person and soon she would forget me, and start loving Linda. She’d be adorable, cuddly, talkative, playful…all for the sole attention of Linda.

Photo: Linda and Palucci
Sure enough, I was right. As I traveled the world (allergy pill free), I had updates from Linda. She and the cat were getting along amazingly well. Linda loved the cat, the cat loved Linda…a perfect match. So when I came back to the US after 16 months of traveling, I had a big decision to make yet again. Do I take my cat back?

I knew what the answer had to be…it could be nothing else than “no”. I was still deathly allergic to her, I had no idea how long I was staying in the US, nor where I was going to live; and the cat was perfectly happy. I had to give her up for ‘adoption’ to Linda. She was Linda’s cat now. However, I had lifetime visitation rights.

When I arrived in Storrs, it had been 20 months since I had seen Palucci. I wondered if her little pea brain would remember me, but mostly I wondered if she would hate me. When Linda and I walked in her door, Palucci was there, just like old times, purring and looking for attention. Yet after the normal minute of rolling around she stopped, stared, and ran away to hide. I got my answer, she definitely remembered me. In the past when she would run and hide it was because she was scared; normally associated with me moving her across the country to a new apartment. She would go find a little nook and stay there for hours until she realized that we weren’t leaving this new place.

I believe she was definitely scared when she heard my voice and smelled my scent, she ran and hid because she thought I was going to take her away again. Eventually she came out of her hiding place, and slowly checked me out more. I think the whole experience confused her. This cat that had love for one person, now had a dilemma. She would come to me and cautiously check me out and let me pet her, then she would go run to Linda. Eventually, as we sat on the couch, she came and sat between us not really able to resolve who her loyalty should go to; the past or the present.

After two days at Linda’s playing with Palucci and hanging out, I was able to steal away a few precious moments and memories. I was relieved that she didn’t treat me like other people, she didn’t bite me, she wasn’t bitchy, she didn’t hiss. Instead she fell into old habits with me, cuddling, playing, and sleeping with me. I was also able to see how much Palucci loved her new owner and home; Linda provided her more attention and love that I ever could have. I was also able to realize just how allergic I still was to Palucci as I wheezed with asthma and my eyes watered. In the end, it was clear that she (and Linda!) had been very happy with the last 20 months, and that they would continue to be going forward. I was thrilled that everything had worked out so well. I was also thrilled that Palucci remembered me; she not only remembered me, but she still had saved a little unconditional love for me – the person that gave her away. I had been wrong; she was able to love more than one person.

Same-Same, and Not So Different – New York

Sherry — Sat, 12 Jan 2008 05:35:44 +0000

Empire State Building

Shit…is it all a dream – it feels like it was a dream. I feel like I just fell down some weird rabbit hole and Alice is offering me tea. Arriving back in New York is beyond describable for me. As I walk around New York it feels as if the last 16 months were some type of amazing dream that I never wanted to wake up from. One where I learned what happiness actually felt like. Yet I sit here in the same place – writing once again to calm my emotions inside as I used to do when I was a ‘true’ New Yorker and I wonder if my past 16 months was all a figment of my imagination. Then I remind myself – no – I have the pictures to prove it. They are real, they are my therapy, they are my proof.

The moment I turned and walked down 74th Street I felt sick to my stomach – it was all the same. I entered my ‘oh so familiar’ building and the same doorman that I left 16 months ago was there – behind the desk. To my surprise he stood up and greeted me with a handshake and said “Welcome back Sherry”. My sickness then turned to a wave of emotions as I tried to hold it together. It was a very unexpected greeting home – and I love the unexpected. The lobby looked brighter thanks to a new coat of paint – but everything else was the same.

We entered the elevator and took it up to 2nd floor. My friends were kindly carrying my suitcases and boxes 10 blocks – I’m used to carrying all of my suitcases on my own yet I couldn’t have made this trip without them. It as about 80 lbs worth of stuff and I needed someone there to stop me when I started to flee down the street in a panic. When the elevator doors opened – I walked out and my heart dropped as a cloud settled in over me. As I walked down the hallway all of a sudden I felt like I was coming home from work – not from being away for a year and a half. I thought about how I had cried when I left and now I’m here wanting to cry again. I arrived at my apartment door and knocked – something I’ve never done before. My current tenant, whom I had never met before in person, opened up the door and greeted me warmly.

Brooklyn Bridge

Sure – it’s strange being back in the US after long term travel outside of the country. But it’s ten times more strange walking into your apartment seeing your stuff in the exact same place that you left it (I suppose I should be happy about this – I had good tenants) as if time stood sill and you just left yesterday. Everything in the same place – I walked around in a daze seeing things that I owned and had totally forgotten about. I think most people that come back to their country after long term travel end up getting a new apartment or maybe even moving to a new place, or more likely they move in with friends or family; but when you walk into your same old home, it’s really a confusing feeling.

After my tenant and friends left. I just stood there in the middle of my apartment – looking around in disbelief, lower lip quivering. I had no idea what to do next, so I sat down on my couch and just checked out for a while mentally. I had no drive to do anything. A feeling of sadness overcame me. This emotion kind of pissed me off because I wanted to have that feeling of ‘it’s so nice to be home’ – but it wasn’t there. Instead I struggled to remember what I did for the last 16 months – did it really happen, or did I just imagine it?

After walking around stunned for a while, I finally just sat down and cried….I couldn’t hold it back any longer…it had to come out.

The next day when my boxes were taken out of storage and all of my extensive clothes, shoes, bags, and coats were delivered to me – I pushed the 5 big wardrobe boxes in the corner and didn’t even open them as I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. I’m officially in denial.

Tonight I did what I know I shouldn’t do – but I couldn’t stop myself – I watched Globetrekker on television. This is my favorite travel show on the planet – because it’s real – it’s the type of travel I like to do. I cooked up some Asian noodles, had a glass of wine, and sat and watched the show, riveted to the screen. I learned about Bolivia and all of the exciting and crazy things you can do there. Bolivia is now on my travel list. The other thing I learned is that for once in my life I have found something that I love…travel – it’s in my soul and I’m more determined than ever to do more. However – I have to tackle these boxes first…ugh.

Finding my way Home

Sherry — Mon, 31 Dec 2007 14:57:04 +0000

Reality – what is the definition? I read once that “Reality is that which, when you stop believing in it, doesn’t go away.” That will give you a headache if you think about it too hard. However what really hurts, is when someone says to me “You must go back to reality sometime.” I hear this phrase about once a week. They say it as if reality is a terrible place or as if what I was doing for the last 15 months wasn’t real. I don’t think people really think about what they are saying – they say it as a trite phrase such as “What do you think about this weather?” It’s just a much used phrase that seems appropriate for my situation. Plus, I think that the majority of people out there consider reality as a negative thing – work, bills, responsibilities – things we don’t like but we feel like we have to do. Yet why does reality have to get such a bad rap? Isn’t reality what you make it…after all, it’s YOUR reality. When I left on my trip in Sep. 06, I wasn’t really trying to escape reality – it is more like I was trying to change my reality. I can only hope that I succeeded at that.

This is about the time when everyone starts to ask “Do you know what you are going to do when you return?”…so to avoid all of those questions that are awaiting my return – the answer is “No, I have no plan.” Sure, I have ideas – but when I verbalize them – they seem completely unrealistic and absurd. When I fall asleep at night, I chastise myself about them falling asleep in a swirl of doubt.

There are days when I feel like I have everyone rooting for me, just wanting me to succeed in order to tell the story about their friend that gave everything up, quit her job, and traveled the world to really experience life and eventually find a profession she loves. I love the feeling that I have so many people behind me mainly because it pushes me – propels me to succeed. I am such a proud person that now I feel like I have to try this, that I have to make this work just to prove to people that you can do it. Yet some days it weighs extremely heavy on my shoulders as I think that some people are just watching and reading waiting for the train wreck to happen…everyone loves a good disaster.

I’m not sure what home is anymore – then again I don’t know if I ever did considering I moved around my adult life throughout the US. I don’t have a cat to go home to anymore…so what is home…a bunch of furniture and kitchen appliances? Hell – I’ve lived without them for long enough now that it doesn’t even matter. I’ve purposely tried to not use the term ‘home’ any longer – so that I trick my brain into thinking that the US is just another country – one that I’m passing through. I also don’t use the phrases ‘end of my trip’, ‘back to reality’, ‘all good things must come to an end’, “finishing my trip”, or “when I’m done with traveling.”

For the last 15 months I’ve lived out of a suitcase or two…yet back in NY 5 wardrobe boxes of clothes and shoes await me…is that really all necessary? There’s a part of me that doesn’t even want to unpack it because I know the addiction that goes along with it. For that same reason I feel this urge to simply sit in my apartment for weeks just looking out the window at NY below me, not wanting to set foot on the streets. I’m afraid. I’m afraid that when I step back on the streets and subways of NYC that all of the pressures, anxiety, and expectations will all of a sudden glob onto me as if I were a magnet. I will feel like I need to fit in, like I need a job, like I need a new wardrobe, like I need to consume – the list could go on and on. Therefore somehow I want to stay on the outside and continue looking in – as if I don’t belong because it’s easier that way. I’ve been existing in countries for the past year where I didn’t belong – and I could simply observe as the minority.

What does all of this rambling mean – I don’t really know. I do know that I feel like I’m on the edge of something great. Not fame or fortune, but personal enlightenment coupled with doing the ‘right’ thing. I stare over the edge wondering; wondering if I have the guts to be that person who makes an impact to others, and to change my reality into a positive. Yet I am terrified to step off the edge and simply fly. However, the reality is I’ve stepped over that edge already and I’m already flying – I just have to keep flapping my wings so I don’t fall out of the sky!

Not so Sweet Dreams – Langkawi

Sherry — Fri, 12 Oct 2007 16:50:51 +0000

Stormy days

For the ‘best of’ Langkawi Photography – click here!

For all snapshots of Langkawi – click here!
I’m enjoying a perfectly relaxing serene week on a sunny beach in Langkawi Malaysia with my family. I’m taking a vacation from my traveling. I write, catch up on reading, work on my tan, brainstorm on ways to make a living, play games with my nieces – yet I awake in the middle of the night overcome with a feeling of despair.

I’m having nightmares. Not the kind where someone is chasing me with a machete through a dark, deserted forest in the pelting rain. Nor am I dreaming my normal reoccurring anxiety nightmare where I am trying to drive up a steep hill in my old Ford Escort and I am still spinning my wheels as I loose ground in 1st gear and start rolling backwards down the hill.

Instead, I dream of being back in NYC seeing my old friends. I look around at the familiar faces and places and have no idea where I fit in any longer. In NYC, people define themselves by their job, their neighborhood, and where and with whom they socialize. However, I no longer have these markers to define myself. Instead, I have a depleted savings account, millions of words in a website, and thousands of photographs. How does my new year of experiences define me? In my dreams my friends busily rush around me as if I’m standing still – they are busy and caught up in a world that is foreign to me. I wake up feeling deeply sad and unsatisfied. This is why I still haven’t bought my plane ticket home. I suppose going back is as scary as leaving was for me 15 months ago. I’m scared to go home.

Regardless of the restless nights, I try to tell myself to push on – live in the moment – enjoy your last two months. Have fun hanging out on the beach in Malaysia, hanging out with my nieces, and drinking booze by noon every day. After all – that’s what the Malaysian island of Langkawi is about. It’s this little oasis near the Thai border. The southern Thailand border is not normally where I would want to be – however the island of Langkawi is perfectly safe. We have been staying at a little 3 star resort, Mutiara Burau Bay Resort with our own beach bungalows. The kind where you can hear the waves crashing on the beach at night while you fall asleep. We’ve been dodging the monkeys, and hopping the waves. In fact – we’ve barely left the premises for the last 5 days as the beach is so perfect and lazy.

During the few moments we did actually leave our resort, we rode the cable car in order to get an aerial view of the island and neighboring Thailand. One late afternoon we hiked to a waterfall, and one day my father and I went sailing. The boat was about 40 ft, and well stocked with booze. In fact, one might simply call it a booze cruise as opposed to a sailing adventure! While on the sailing adventure I realized where I get my sense of adventure from…my father. I watched him socialize with everyone on the boat, talk to them about where they are from, talk to the crew, talk to the captain, drinking beer, laughing, and making other’s laugh. I was a bit awe struck at his ease of communications. This couldn’t be the same man that kept to himself my whole teenage life – could it? This happy-go-lucky man couldn’t be the same person that I was terrified to tell that I wanted to major in Business and not Engineering in college. Apparently, time does change your perspectives.

Our sailing day included eagle feeding, boating through mangrove forests, fishing, and kayaking. I thought I would give fishing a try – after all – it looked pretty simple. There was no fishing pole – just a fishing wire with some weights at the end and a hook to put the bait. You simply lowered the wire into the water until it hit bottom, pulled it up about a foot and waited to feel a nibble. Then the real fun began! I ended up catching 5 fish…granted – there were no big ones…but they were good enough for our crew to take home to their families that night for dinner I sat there on a bucket – with a beer in my hand, and the fishing wire in my other hand…I felt like I was getting back to my Midwestern roots! Yet, I never did figure out how to muster up the guts to take the floppy fish off the hook and put it into the ‘catch bag’. I failed at that skill!

Next – thanks to pressure from my Dad, I ended up trying out the great new adventure sport that’s sweeping the world…Jacuzzi Sailing. This basically included the crazy process of jumping off the high bow of a moving boat, surfacing quickly and reaching onto a rope while the boat was passing you by. Once you had a hold of the rope, you could pull your body up onto the big rope net that was connected to the side of the boat. Once in the net – you could lay back and relax…well…except for the fact that you toes were clasped like a leach around the rope trying to hold on for dear life! The whole process was a bit daunting. I walked the ‘plank’ out on the bow, took the leap (thanks to the ‘no fear beer’ in my system), as I was under water I realized there was no time to worry about my bikini top that was twisted as I had to surface quickly before the boat passed me! Once I crawled up the netting, clasping onto the net for dear life as the current of the moving boat tried to leave me in the dust, the crew threw me another beer…perfect. Now I had the added challenge of trying to drink a beer while laying in a net with my feet wrapped around the ropes like a monkey refusing to let go. Waves came crashing around the boat as we broke through the open sea sending my net undulating and me with it. I held my beer up high trying to keep it from getting consumed by the sea, but it was nearly impossible to avoid the salt water from getting inside the can. That was ok though – it then just seemed as if you were drinking beer and eating salty peanuts at the same time!

On our last night in Langkawi we sat around the resort lobby, had ice cream sundaes, and played cards. To our surprise, we were also treated to a real piece of history. The first Malaysian astronaut was launched into space. It was all televised live, everyone was singing Malaysian songs, and full of Malaysian pride. It was a fun thing to witness as an outsider, and a historical moment for all of Southeast Asia. Malaysia apparently struck a deal with Russia to join on one of their launches and send a doctor to the International Space Station. Not only was it the first Malaysian astronaut , but he was also Muslim, therefore they had to determine which way he would face in the space station for daily prayers towards the ever-moving Meca while in orbit. I take space travel for granted these days – but this was a momentous occasion for the country and Islam, and I was really happy that I witnessed it.

Yet even with all of this relaxation, family, fun, and beer in Langkawi – I still wake up in the morning uneasy from my disturbing dreams of returning home. I believe that spending time with my family and having an end of my travel within view has intensified my feelings of fear and confusion. I had a lot of free time to sit and think on the beach…maybe too much time as evidenced by my ‘not so sweet’ dreams. Why is it that when I’m in my travel groove interacting with other vagabonds and travelers all of my small business ideas and future plans seem normal, do-able, and exciting. But when I talk about these same ideas to my family or in the context of life in NYC – they all seem like a silly, childish dream?

Time will tell what will really happen when I return to NY sometime in December (no, I still don’t have a ticket home) – but for now, I’m trying my best to simply enjoy the beach, and a beer with family.

A Year in the World

Sherry — Mon, 10 Sep 2007 15:32:59 +0000

Working

Photo: Me in front of my laptop…a familiar site!

It’s been one year…one year since I left home. I can’t remember what it feels like to be home anymore. I left wondering if I could even last 3 months. I’ve had a privileged experience – one in which I’ve grown…into someone that I hardly recognize anymore. I firmly believe that you can really know what it means to be American until you step out of America. It’s such a strange experience to step outside your culture for this long, and look back in from the outside. I’m scared with what I see at times.

As I look in, there are things that I dislike, such as work life balance, lack of extended family relations, and the ‘bigger is better’ view. Yet I have to wonder if the ‘pull yourself up by your bootstraps and you can do anything’ attitude that Americans have is really what put us in the place we are in today…a world leader. Yet at what price? I hate the fact that President Bush has ruined the view of America to the rest of the world. I honestly don’t know if he deserves the sole blame, as there are many people that are part of his organization, but it is a true – 90% of the outside world doesn’t like him and his American-Sized ego. Unfortunately he’s our ambassador to the world…and he’s not representing us to well at this moment. I’m not meaning to blame it on Republicans – as Democrats just as easily could have put us in this position – all it takes is a big ego, tunnel vision, and some bad advice – hell – that could be anyone. Sorry, I digress, as I hate talking politics, but it’s important to know that for those of you who haven’t traveled out of the country – not everyone wants to be an American – we are not necessarily envied. Today as I went through the security check at Dehli domestic airport, the security guy looked at my passport and said, where are you from? I said, “America”. He then mumbled something I didn’t understand and I asked him to repeat it. He said “Do you like Hilary Clinton, do you think she will win?” He was clearly in favor of a Clinton White House again. I found this whole line of questioning surprising…yet it’s been happening all over the world to me.

Don’t get me wrong – I love our country. I am a very fortunate to have been born there. There’s not many other places I’d rather be living as a woman…our opportunities are endless there. I see how women are treated in other parts of the world – their roles are very different, their opportunities are few.

I often get asked the question – what have you learned. With that question I could give you an endless list of answers such as; not all poor are unhappy, not all Muslims hate Americans, not all Muslims are militant, a smile is the universal language, it’s important to dance every chance you get, you can’t dislike something until you’ve tried it yourself someone who wears a turban is not necessarily Muslim or a terrorist, you can eat raw vegetables in 3rd world countries, Italian food is the only food that is truly worldwide, Twizzlers aren’t sold outside the US, if you roll your clothes instead of fold them you can fit much more into a suitcase, airline security standards are different all over the world, traffic rules aren’t always necessary, and the list could go on and on. The world is a complex place and I am truly lucky to see as much of it as I have.

I feel like I will need time…time think about these experiences that I’ve had, the places I’ve seen, the people I’ve met. When you see something new every single day, it’s overwhelming. Some days I feel as if my head will explode with all of the newness. It challenges your stereotypes, your concept of right and wrong, or good and bad, of socially acceptable and unacceptable. One thing is for sure, I will need some time to just sort it all out in my head.

I was supposed to be coming home now, yet I’m knee deep in India and plan to head off to Laos, Malaysia, and China this fall. A year goes so fast – especially when you don’t want it to end – or are afraid for it to end. I cried when I left back in September – my future was scary, but I know I will cry hardest when I have to come back and try to go through the most difficult cultural adjustment yet – being back in the US. Until then, I keep avoiding it and finding more places to go. Right now – I plan on coming back by the 1st of December. Yet I never said how long I would stay – as there’s a part of me that says it never really has to end…it may just take a different form.

No Related Post

Spice Diaries – Vol 9, Sep. 1

Sherry — Mon, 03 Sep 2007 05:01:41 +0000

People often wonder how I can be away from home for so long and not miss it. I myself am surprised at this some days. Then, on a night like tonight I realize that maybe it’s easy to be away from home because it’s easier not to deal with the realities of everyday life. Yet, every so often those realities come face to face with me…even halfway around the world.

I have so many people ask me – have you met any men during your travels. The answer is yes, sure I’ve met men during my travels. Some very, very nice ones. Ones that I even think are attractive, interesting, exciting and a bit dangerous…which as all women know…is the best combination of traits. I think to myself that in turn, I have a lot to offer – I am a risk taker, independent, a world traveler, smart, witty, and a bit unconventional. Ok – maybe that was too light…I am very unconventional. Yet, I’m faced with the same issues as I’ve always been faced with when it comes to men – even halfway around the world. All the men that I meet are either already ‘taken’ or are only interested in the young, and sexy women for a quick fling – or the young responsible women to settle down and have babies. Both of these scenarios pretty much suck for me. I’d like to say that I’m not bitter about this…but come on…of course I am. How can you be 37 years old, have not dated someone for 6 years and not be a little bit bitter. Yet at the same time – I put on a happy, positive face and say – my time will come. Overall – I do really believe that – I will meet someone that means the world to me and vice versa. But the waiting is really a shitty process. Instead of sitting around waiting, I go and live my life – do what I want to do – and believe that eventually – it will all work out.

Today, I was talking to the coordinator at my volunteer placement before I started my class. She was asking me some personal questions about myself. She asked about my family and if I was married. I gave her the same answer that I give everyone – “no, I’m not married” I get the standard response back, “Why?” This of course frustrates me because who really wants to try to defend why they are not in a relationship? Yet, as a single woman – I am always in this position of trying to explain why I don’t have a husband or a boyfriend. Honestly – this really sucks. It sucks to try to defend why you are alone. I get tired of it – I get angry about it – but it is a fact of life…so I go through the motions and try to explain that I simply haven’t met the right person yet. Upon hearing this explanation, the woman went on to say, “It’s such a shame because YOU should be a mother.” My heart just drops to my toes upon this statement. She goes on to say, “I get upset when I find out that smart, talented women like yourself aren’t going to be a mother. This world is losing out. ”

Now – before all of you freak out and try to tell me that I’m only 37 and I still could be a mother – stop. I really don’t think I do want to be a mother – so please don’t feel sorry for me – that’s not why I’m writing about this. I’m writing about this because I thought that wrapped up in that statement about motherhood – there was a lovely compliment in there. One that I can cling on to for a while and enjoy. No matter how many men my age pass me up (their loss!), I am still positive that I have a lot to offer the right ‘person’. Whether that ‘person’ is a man, my nieces, impoverished kids in India, or simply my friends – that’s fine with me.

I’m not going to pretend that being rejected by numerous men in turn for some young 20 year old, or some woman with the ‘perfect’ body, boobs, lean legs and long hair doesn’t bother me. It absolutely does. However, it’s life. One day, when one of those men take the time to actually get to know me and look beyond my newly formed wrinkles – then it will all work itself out.

I know this entry was a bit sloppy and unfocused – but tonight was the first time in 3 weeks that I’ve been out partying and socializing and interacting with men in a bar setting. It was a really fun night…but the old skeletons seem to always pop up. Those skeletons make me want to run…which is basically what I have been doing for the past year. For those of you out there that think this is a cry for help…it isn’t. It’s just the normal stuff that goes through the mind of a single woman in her late 30’s. We all have our good days and our bad days – our days of high self esteem and crappy self esteem. This honestly wasn’t even a bad day…it was just a little does of reality in my vagabond world.

Pass The Barf Bag Please; Wonderings On a Bus

Sherry — Sun, 08 Jul 2007 10:19:09 +0000

I’m feeling a bit reflective. I haven’t felt that way for a while…or maybe it’s just been in my head and I haven’t let it out in a while. I’m on a bus in Morocco traveling between Cefchaouan and Tangier…a 4 hr bus ride from hell. It’s hot; extremely hot, the air conditioning isn’t working, we are on winding mountain passes, the bus is making odd noises, the sun is shining brightly through the windows as if it were superman with xray vision burning a hole in the flimsy curtain fabric. I’ve been in a constant state of sweat all day, I smell bad. I’m wearing pants that I haven’t washed for 2 weeks, rode a camel in, and the zipper broke a week ago so they are held together by a safety pin. There are people puking around me. Admist all of this travel turmoil, I feel reflective.

How the hell did I go from a high end apartment in Manhattan, a posh lifestyle, to this? Actually there are tons of thoughts floating through my head as I listen to my “mellow” playlist on my ipod trying to tell my stomach to just hang in there. I’ve already taken Dramamine, but it hasn’t decided if it wants to work yet inside my tummy. I’m not really sure if this typing is helping or hurting the motion sickness.

I think about my family, I wonder if they miss me at all. At times I do feel rather lonely out here, wondering what people are doing, if they think about me or even know where I’m at. I think about my mom and dad, I wonder if they will ever decide to come visit me on this adventure. I think about the fact that they have supported my crazy ideas and am grateful for that. I think about going home, and what that will be like again – taking that ride from the airport back into Manhattan. I think about sleeping in my own bed, seeing my apartment for the first time. I think about the Arabic family next to me knowing that this is just a few weeks of my life, but this is their life…this is normal to them. I wonder how much this bus trip cost them, I wonder if they are in as much pain as I am – and then realize they must be since they are vomiting from motion sickness.

I think about past loves, the ones that broke my heart. I wonder what they are doing. I wonder if I will ever meet anyone that I can feel comfortable with, that will ever understand me –or is that just a silly dream? I mean really, who could understand why I’m riding a hot, vomit –filled bus and living out of a backpack for 10 months now. I wonder what my life would have been like if I had stayed with some of them, or if I had tried harder to make it work, or I had simply said “please, don’t go”. I wonder if I will really be able to love and trust again – if I ever really did love or trust? I think about the last time I saw him.

I think about my future. I wonder if I will try to really follow some of my ideas, or if I will give up and end up in the same rat race. I wonder if I did the right thing….but that’s a fleeting thought as I KNOW I did the right thing. I think about what it’s like to follow your gut. I wonder if I will have enough money to do what I want. I wonder if I will have enough perseverance, enough patience, enough knowledge – or will I be lazy? Will I be able to self start? What does life hold? Will I be able to embrace the ride? I think about how scary it is to think about working again – and not knowing what that will look like. I think about breathing through my mouth and not my nose.

I think about friends. I wonder how they have changed. I wonder if they think of me. I wonder if our friendships will be the same when I get back. I wonder how I will ever, EVER be able to repay some of them for the kindness and assistance they have provided me while traveling. I wonder about the friends that I rarely hear from, but used to be some of my closest friends I had. I wonder why that is, why we have drifted so. I think about some of them that have moved on and started families – who have moved into a traditional life. I wonder if they ever go out anymore and get silly drunk and go dancing until 6AM. I wonder what they will tell their kids about their past single life.

I think about my cat. I wonder if she will still remember my voice…find something familiar in it when I walk in Linda’s door and say ”Hi kit kat!” – or will she run and hide…or more likely…will she bite me and hiss? I remember the last time I held her in my lap, petting her, my tears dripping down on her fur and me telling her that I would always remember her and that I wasn’t leaving her forever. I think of her as my only real piece of responsibility in my life, the only thing that (used to) love me unconditionally. Yet, I wonder if I will take her back, or leave her with Linda. I wonder if I can really let her go.

I think about my belongings…my clothes, my shoes, my jackets, my jewelry…my stuff. I think about my ratty, smelly suitcase and I envision burning it when I get home. I wonder how elated I will feel when I got through my boxes that have been in storage. Or will I realize that I can live without that stuff. I think about the fact that this bus is constantly jerking around corners and wonder when it will ever stop. I wonder why we didn’t pay the extra money and just have a private driver.

I think about my adventures to come. I worry about the challenges ahead – especially India. I wonder if I will be tough enough to survive volunteering in India. I wonder if I will feel like I made a difference in this world. I wonder what I will look like in a Sari. I wonder how it will feel to give back. I wonder if I will love it or hate it. I wonder why in the hell this air conditioning doesn’t work!

I think about how much I’ve aged these last 10 months. I think about how bad I look, but then every time I see myself in a picture I realize that I don’t look as bad as my mind has me believe. I think about how your mind is such a powerful thing…and how it can play dirty tricks on you. I think about the last time I had a real shower in which I felt really, really clean. I think about the thrill of a fluffy towel. I wonder why I haven’t met any love interests on this grand adventure. I wonder if I’m just not open to it. I think about the last time I felt sexy…I can’t even remember when that was…which is about as disturbing as the sound of the person vomiting in the seats behind me.

I think about the real travelers…the people I have met that are 10 times tougher than me. The woman I met in Morocco who is working with the peace corps for 2 years on her own in a remote village – and she’s 22 yrs old…she tough…I’m a wimp. I think about Karina, my Intrepid tour leader, who is about 10 yrs younger than me, but I look up to. I think about her apparent ease in dealing with difficult situations, her ease in different cultures, her patience…it is commendable. I wish I could have a bit of what she has. Plus, she doesn’t seem to get car sick at all….another reason to be envious. I think about how this bus is just an oven of puke.

I think about my brother who I’ve only heard from twice on this adventure. I wonder why we have grown apart so much. I wonder if I should have contacted him more. I wonder if his kids will remember me, if they even know what I’m doing out here – or even care. I wonder about all of my nieces, what their lives will be like as adult women, what choices they will make. I wonder if I will have had any influence on them. I wonder if any of them will take care of me in my old, senile age! I wonder what challenges they will face in the world as smart, independent women. I wonder if I should have taken another Dramamine.

I think about being tough…I think about how it doesn’t matter if anyone thinks about me, misses me, remembers me…I just have to be tough…because in the end, it all comes down to me…and no one else. I think about the fact that Karina just asked me for a barf bag (I seem to be the holder of the barf bags on this trip) – not for her – but for the little girl sitting next to Kate on the bus.

I think about the roadtrips that I used to take with my family when I was a kid. I think about how my family used to make fun of me when I would get carsick…they always thought I was weak…and I was, I was a mamma’s girl; afraid to leave her, afraid to go downstairs alone, afraid to stay overnight at a friends house all night, afraid to eat asparagus, afraid of bugs, afraid of snakes, afraid of leaving for college, afraid of being alone.

I think about the fact that this writing is helping my motion sickness…at least it’s taking my mind off the jerking bus, until I just wrote this sentence and became aware of it again.

I wonder if my friends are just being kind about my writing and photography. Are they doing what friends are supposed to be doing…being kind? I wonder how many other millions of people out there are doing what I’m doing. I wonder if I have talent. I wonder why we as human beings doubt ourselves so much. I wonder if any of those people that I have photographed understand how very beautiful they are. I wonder what they think of Americans. I wonder if they know how they have changed my life.

I wonder if I have made a difference in anyone’s life. I wonder if I have made a mark on this world. I wonder why Tangier seems to be so f’ing far from Cefchaouan.

I think about all of my friends who have recently had life changes – got married or had/having kids. I think about social norms. I wonder how all of those things have seemed to escape me. I wonder if they really escaped me or did I push them away. I think about people who have children…and wonder what that would be like. I wonder why the hell the brakes on this bus are so god damn bad!!!!!

Most of all, I wonder what people will think when they read this. This glimpse into my motion sick, sweaty, smelly, tired, mind…but at least I didn’t lose my lunch.

Le Miei Famiglie Italiani

Sherry — Sun, 03 Jun 2007 11:03:29 +0000

Sorrento is famous for their lemons

View Italy Photography

View snapshots of Sorrento and friends!
View snapshots of the Almalfi Coast

The title roughly translates into my Italian Families…that’s right – plural…I have many of them! I have to admit it – I have always been fascinated with all things Italian – the food, the wine, the mafia, and the family lifestyle. It is no surprise then that the Godfather movies top my favorite movie list. The opening scenes that have these huge weddings and confirmation celebrations are my favorite. I love to see the big celebrations centered around food, family, and normally religion juxtaposed with the morally corrupt mafia.

In general, I’ve always felt that America doesn’t really possess that family bond that other countries do – therefore I’ve always been fascinated with it in other cultures. After living in Sorrento for a month, I have had the fortunate experience to be welcomed into not only one Italian Family’s home…but multiple families’ homes. I am living with a local family, I am taking cooking classes at a large Italian family home, and finally, I have befriended a few locals here and have been welcomed into their kitchens and lives as if I am a part of the family. All of these families make up my Italian family experience here, but each is unique.

Photo: Marina Grande sunrise in Sorrento
I arrived in Sorrento to live with the Signor and Signorina Bandi. They live in a home in Sorrento that has been in their family for over a hundred years. They have two children that are now grown and living in France – therefore they have opened up their home to students from the language school. It’s rather unusual that their kids live abroad, as many Italian families stay in the same areas, and often the kids live in the family home until they are married. The Bandi’s have some very progressive Italian children – which makes them perfect couple to host students! They are social, warm, curious about the world, and welcoming – and more than a little patient with my crappy Italian. I am staying in their daughters room and I feel as if I have been transported back to my high school years as it seems as if they have simply left the room the same as it used to be when she left – a little twin bed with dalmatian sheets, stuffed animals everywhere, and pictures of her friends all over the room – and even a picture of Kurt Cobain. It reminds me of my own wood paneled room with pictures of Sean Cassidy and Tom Cruise covering the walls. Signorina Bandi speaks a bit of English (thank god!), but Signor Bandi does not – however he makes up for it by baking fresh bread and biscotti!

Every morning I have breakfast with them and we try to muddle our way through a conversation…sometimes successfully – and sometimes I just give up and speak English. I always feel so guilty though when I give up (which is quite often) However – every week I get a little better so that I now simply intermix the two languages constantly within the same sentence. I figure that it’s better than nothing! When I come home late from cooking school they are often still awake and we sit down and Signor Bandi pours me some of his homemade limoncello, or a glass of wine and then puts out some cheese and ham to snack on. Of course I have just finished a 4 course meal at the cooking school – so I am really not hungry – but I eat regardless because I like to spend this time with them! Signorina Bandi has made the observation that I’m always doing something – I never slow down. Even in a different country, experiencing a different culture, she has figured me out…I don’t relax…always go, go, go…some things never change! They keep a guestbook of all of their students and pictures – I am already busily trying to figure out what I will write in Italian in the guest book…oh…the anxiety!

Photo: Friends at the cooking school – Haley, Alexis, and Tina
Then there’s my cooking family – at Mami Camilla’s. I love this place…just love it. I honestly don’t know what I would have done in Sorrento without Mami Camilla’s. It was my family for a month…the family that I laughed with, cooked with, drank with. (see the Pooch post for more info). There was something so comforting about coming to the house every day and having someone say Ciao Sherry! – people that knew me. It’s strange that after being a vagabond for 8 months how comforting a familiar face can be. I had a place…a place where they knew me, and a place where they expected me every night.

It wasn’t just the Mami Camilla family – it was the people that I met there at cooking classes as well as the new people arriving every night at the bed and breakfast. Every night there would be new people to meet – mainly American tourists – but new people all the same! I made so many wonderful connections through this venue – I can’t even begin to try to keep track of them all! I met New Yorkers, students studying abroad, Californians, Brits, Australians, and many other people. It was invigorating to talk to Americans again. It had honestly been quite a while since I had seen so many Americans. Topics revolved around travel, politics, cooking, wine, and family. The constant coming and going of people from Mama Camillas created this strange dynamic – a feeling of excitement about what new people you would meet that night, as well as an equal feeling of sadness as people left. It was a revolving door of friendships. It was a lot of emotions to deal with in just one month – I can’t imagine how the staff deals with it – just when you make a connection with someone – they are gone. However, I wouldn’t change a thing about it – it was this unique, different experience that probably was the highlight of my time in Italy!

Photo: Mossimo, myself, and Gigi at the Bollicine Wine Bar
Then there were the families and friendships that I formed outside of classes – at a local wine bar called Bollicine. The first night I arrived in Sorrento, I settled into the Bandi household and then went out exploring the town on my own. As it got later in the evening, I started looking for a place to eat dinner. I really didn’t want to go to a touristy place…just a nice place where I could feel at home. I wandered along the back streets and found a wine bar with a small menu. I went in for dinner that night and the relationship was formed. I met Mossimo and Luigi that night. Mossimo was the bartender and Luigi was the cook and manager of sorts. I told them that I was going to be taking courses at the language school for a month. We chatted over an amazing glass of red wine. Later that weekend, I was out with some girlfriends at a little lounge in Sorrento in the wee hours of the morning and all of a sudden someone walked by me and said – “Ciao Sherry!” – I turned around and it was Mossimo – I was so impressed that he recognized me and remembered my name. I beamed with the joy of feeling that I actually knew people in town.

That was the beginning of my relationship with Max and Gigi. Since I was eating every night at Mami Camillas, I utilized Bollicine as my ‘local’ bar. I took friends there from class and introduced them to the guys. Gigi and Max were wonderful…they sat through my excruciating Italian speaking attempts, they entertained us with stories, they poured wonderful glasses of wine, they had an Italian/English dictionary at our disposal, and they played great music…it was my hangout. There were a number of times that my friends and I closed the place down…literally they locked us inside and we just hung out and drank more wine until we felt like going home. I would run into Max or Gigi on the streets of Sorrento during the day and they would say hi – I felt like a local during those moments.

Photo: My dinner party with my girlfriends
One night Gigi suggested that since I was taking cooking class – that I should cook my friends dinner in his kitchen at the bar. I honestly thought he was joking. However, the next night when I stopped there for a drink, he came out and started writing down a menu of what I could make and what I would need to go and buy. I was thrilled at the chance to cook for my friends in a kitchen! It was as if I had my own apartment again! Plus – there was an added excitement about the fact that I would have to go shopping for my ingredients at the local markets. Gigi gave me a list and told me where to go. The night before I looked up all of the words in the dictionary and wrote down some key phrases in case I got stuck and off I went to the fish market, the butcher, and the vegetable market.

That night I skipped Mami Camillas and invited my girlfriends from class to dinner at Bollicine’s…otherwise known as Osteria di Sherry that night. Gigi taught me how to prepare local food such as Octopus and potato salad, Penne Arrabbiata, and Veal Marsala. I had so much fun cooking with him and preparing the table in the restaurant for our dinner. The girls loved it and we stuffed ourselves silly. That night we all hung out well past close hours drinking wine with the guys laughing into the wee hours of the night.

Photo: Tash and I on one of our many excursions…including wine…
My final family member is Natasha. Natasha was my saving grace here – she’s someone I can call a great friend. She’s a fellow language student from Australia a year younger than me, taking about 9 weeks off from work and traveling through Italy. She also enrolled in the school with no previous experience in speaking the language like myself. Natasha and I formed an initial friendship out of frustration with trying to learn a new language – however that quickly turned into a friendship based on mutual interests and similar backgrounds. Sure – I’ve met a ton of people here in Sorrento – but the one person that I can safely say that I formed a friendship for life with was Natasha. It absolutely amazed me how much two women from different parts of the world can have in common – we just clicked.

By week two I was going over to her apartment for lunch and happy hours, we would plan travel outings on the weekend, we laughed, we cried – we laughed so hard we cried. We knew each other’s families and friends by name – we shared stories and experiences – there was never a dull moment! We had special lunches for ‘ladies that lunch’ which would consist of molto wine and lots of girl talk. Natasha always came up with great words of wisdom when I was feeling particularly stupid in class. She kept things light and funny. Sure – we both had our breakdowns in the middle of class…the moments where you feel so stupid that you just want to walk out…but luckily we would have them at different times – so that we could encourage each other to stick with it. Plus – we both had to be reminded that learning Italian was not worth crying over. After all…we chose this path…and many people would love to be in our shoes.

We explored the area together during our free time – Pompeii, lunched in Positano, climbed Vesuvio, frequented the beaches, and visited Capri. (see picture links at the top for the excursion photos!) I always believe that things just seem to work out…and meeting Natasha is just another example. I was nervous about living in Sorrento for a month and going to classes, but having Natasha around made it possible to really enjoy that time. I’m ready to move on from Sorrento this week – however I know that I will miss her…it was fun to have a girlfriend around again…one that I felt so close with.

Photo: Me on my purple Pasta Eater Bike!
Thanks to my multiple Italian family friendships that I formed – it made my time here everything I was hoping for. Sure – I was also hoping that I could write this whole post in Italian after 4 weeks – but that was probably my overachievement quality emerging. Instead – I can say – Il mio tempo a Sorrento sono stata buona. Io ho fatto molto amici , ho mangiato molto pasta, e mi piace tutto momento.

Grazie Mille!

Love Stinks?

Sherry — Mon, 12 Feb 2007 15:46:11 +0000

Love Stinks?

Every year I have a Valentine tradition, I have a t-shirt that I wear that says “Love Stinks” in little pink rhinestones. It doesn’t necessarily reflect my feeling about Valentine’s day (yet the cynical side of me thinks that Hallmark is truly evil), instead I find the shirt humorous. I love to see people’s reactions to it, especially within the confines of Corporate America! Since most of the corporate world has gone to casual dress, I’ve been able to wear it to work the last 5 years or so. Last year I happened to have my CIO’s staff meeting that I had to attend on Valentine’s Day – I was a bit self-conscience about the shirt – but everyone just went about their business. One person did mouth to me across the table – “nice shirt”. Since my Love Stinks shirt is in storage somewhere in the Bronx this year, I decided that at least I would honor it by writing a post using it as a title! I don’t know that this title actually goes well with this post…but what the heck…it makes me feel good to use the term. This is actually from my journal a few weeks ago when I was in Thailand. Just some random thoughts that that I started jotting down as I lay on the beach surrounded by honeymooners. I actually enjoy these moments – the ones that really make you think, the ones where you take stock in where you’ve been, where you are, and where you are going.

Ao Nang, Thailand, January 27th
I’m having one of those great days. I’m on my own now, no travel companions…just me, the beach, my ipod, intense sun, and my thoughts. I’m baking in the sun, thinking about how absolutely fortunate and happy I am. My thoughts wander to that of my friends, I think about the last time I saw them – so far, they are the only thing that I am really homesick for. I wondered if they were experiencing similar feelings of happiness, of satisfaction, or accomplishment in their everyday lives…I hope they are. I look around at my surroundings, I’m encircled by glistening couples – I wonder if they are as happy and satisfied as I am. Since I seldom seem to have any serious boyfriends, I wonder if this feeling of complete satisfaction and happiness that I have now is what couples feel when they’ve found the right person. Do they look happy? Do they look so happy they could burst, so satisfied with their decisions, excited about what new adventure is around the corner – similar to how I feel this year? Do they get a rush of adrenaline when they are together similar to the adrenaline rush I get every time I land in a new country? I can’t help but wonder. I feel like I’ve been conditioned to think that finding that ’special someone’ is the climax of life, the eternal happiness, yet I’m not ready to drink that kool-aide just yet. In Southern Thailand I have been surrounded by couples honeymooning, it’s strange to be a solo traveler in this situation. Yet, most of the time I feel like I’m much happier than the people that surround me.

Valentine’s day and my birthday are quickly approaching (not in that order), and I guess it always makes me stop and wonder what my path may have been like if I had worked harder at that ‘dating thing’. I haven’t seriously dated anyone for close to 5 years now and bumping up into the upper 30’s has made me wonder what my future holds and how I ended up in this position. Granted – it may have been 5 years of nothing serious, but I’ve had my share of fun and that’s generally what I prefer – no strings, no commitments. No one ever seems to be ‘right’. I’ve always felt that I’d rather be single than miserable in a relationship that wasn’t right. Yet I do wonder, how happy are those couples on the beach – is it really that great? Or is it just the most acceptable path? Or does it just look good on the outside – while they are dying on the inside? Sure – it would be nice to have a significant other here with me to help shoulder the burden, carry my bags, share the rough travel times with, to kill bugs and put sunscreen on my back – but would I be as happy as I am right now? Would I feel that intoxicating sense of accomplishment that I feel now – the feeling that I’ve made this happen on my own? Probably not.

I had a very good friend once ask me if I was afraid of being alone (I was 27 and considering leaving my boyfriend of 6 1/2 years – an appropriate question to ask!). I was startled by her question and deep down I knew the answer was yes – and that scared the shit out of me. I didn’t want to be handcuffed by loneliness – I left him and never looked back – not once. I think I’ve been on a quest now for the last 10 years to prove that I wasn’t afraid to being alone. Without a doubt, it is one of the main reasons why I’m on this around the world journey now – I don’t want to ever be afraid of something…especially doing something on my own. I know that this overwhelming feeling of happiness I feel is because I’m doing this – chasing my dream, doing what makes me happy on my own. This certainly doesn’t mean that I wouldn’t welcome meeting the ‘right’ person…or even Mr. Right Now (now that would be a birthday present!). But even if I met someone and they wanted to come with me on my journey, I would have to stop and really think if I wanted that.

As I continue to scan the beach dotted with couples, I don’t know if they are necessarily happier than me…or more satisfied than me. But I do know that if you do what you love and follow your dreams – good things will come. This is probably one of my happiest birthdays and valentine’s days I’ve had – I can’t remember the last time I felt so strong and well-adjusted. My present to myself is the adventure, the rush of adrenaline coursing through my body as the wheels touch down in Borneo and my mind thinks – I can’t believe I’m in f’ing Borneo – what a great life!

On My Way

Sherry — Sun, 08 Oct 2006 09:26:33 +0000

Departing Penn Station with my packs

I’ve done it – there’s no looking back now – I’ve got to roll with whatever comes my way. It was a difficult departure – reminiscent of my previous moves around the US. Every time I would talk to a close friend my eyes would well up in tears. I’m not real sure why as I wasn’t sad about my decision, just emotional about the unknown I guess. I finally told myself that I needed to practice my acting skills and when people asked me if I was excited I would lie and say ‘yes’ trying to act excited – that way maybe I would convince myself that I was truly excited. No matter what tactic I tried – the tears came – and I had to admit – I was scared of what I was embarking into.

That realization really pissed me off. I don’t want to think of myself as someone who is scared – I want to be seen as strong, brave, independent – not scared. But I guess everyone is human and this was my breaking point – leaving the known, predictable world I know to go out and discover a new world…literally. Leaving the US to me is very reminiscent of going away to college and my parents driving away from the dorm parking lot while I choked back tears – not really knowing what to do next as I delved into adulthood and responsibility whether I liked it or not. Just like in college – I will land on my feet. Once I get there I will be reminded of why I’m doing this. I will soak in the culture, the people, the landscape, the smiles, the sounds – it will coarse thru me and soon this fear will be gone – replaced by wonder.

I’m traveling with 5 other women in Kenya and with our friend Mungai. Mungai is from Nairobi and has recently moved back there after spending a good amount of time in NYC (where we met him). Erin, Aimee, Sandra, Allison and Cynthia are my travel partners for now….a welcome site. Thank goodness I had people to leave the US with – people to talk to and get my mind off things. We are staying with Mungai and his family in Nairobi. Mungai has planned out whole itinerary for Kenya – Nairobi, Samburu Safari, Mombosa, and Lamu. It’s such a treat to have someone from the area to show us around, translate for us, and look out for us – we are truly priveledged!

Pictured: My two packs that I will be living out of for a year…ugh…a far cry from my closet at home!

Currently – the airplane map in front of me has us flying near Turkey, Baghdad, Cairo, Tripoli, Luxor and the Sahara Desert – the excitement level is starting to brew! More to come once I land!

Ottsworld Travel Experiences » Solo Perspective

The Ecstasy of Unpacking

“Where do you live?”

The best thing about living out of a suitcase is…

…the complete new appreciation you develop for closets

I currently find myself in a situation that I haven’t been in since August of 2009 – I’m in one place for 6 weeks. I’m in Boston house sitting for a friend who’s in San Diego. I have her beautiful apartment to myself.

Related Posts

Ups and Downs of Solo Travel

Related Posts

My Three (Girlie) Travel Secrets

Related Posts

In Search of…A Plan

Related Posts

Leaving on a Jet Plane…Tonight!

Related Posts

You can’t handle the truth…

Related Posts

I Will Survive

Related Posts

Tears for Fears

Related Posts

Travel vs. Motherhood

Related Posts

Solo Travel & My New Writing Gig

Related Posts

Feline Visitation Rights

Related Posts

Same-Same, and Not So Different – New York

Related Posts

Finding my way Home

Related Posts

Not so Sweet Dreams – Langkawi

Related Posts

A Year in the World

Related Posts

Spice Diaries – Vol 9, Sep. 1

Related Posts

Pass The Barf Bag Please; Wonderings On a Bus

Related Posts

Le Miei Famiglie Italiani

Related Posts

Love Stinks?

Related Posts

On My Way

Related Posts