Fine Wines and Blogs Get Better With Age

*This post has absolutely nothing to do with wine.*

I Packed My Sense of Humor and Not Much Else just turned three. I meant to write a dramatic post on its birthday that celebrated the day this blog was born, that detailed how I have persevered through the peaks and valleys of online writing, and that expressed to all 29 readers how much I treasure your input.

Bleeecch. None of that happened, although I DO in fact, treasure your input. (No really, I do. I get so excited when I see I have new comments. It's like a little party in my inbox once or twice every hour week).

Really, the reason that post never happened because I was much too busy surviving things, climbing things, and being horrified at things. I'm sure you understand.

And since I am horrible at being mushy, I figured that I should just skip all of that and just repost my very first entry instead. Some of my early stuff is actually quite entertaining, so you may be seeing more of it over the next few weeks. Side note: As I have been reading through the first year or so, I realize that apparently I thought it was acceptable to fling words out to the world without spell checking or proofreading. I have fixed those mistakes in the reprint, but everything else is the same. Oh, and I added  pictures. Not sure why I wouldn't have just done that the first time around.   No wonder it's taken me three years to find 29 people who willingly and faithfully wade through each post.

I trust that things have improved since 2008. Enjoy.

 

Wednesday, June 25, 2008

Fun at the Dhaka Airport

It's my first time in Asia and I have chosen a "doozy" of a country in which to start my journey. I have arrived in the chaotic capital of Bangladesh, Dhaka. Isn't that where all the glossy travel magazines are headquartered? On the top 10 list of honeymoon destinations? NO? Right, well anyway, I am here now and ready to start getting adventurous.


I really had to look no further than the customs line at the airport though. (And by "line" here, I mean that everyone seems to think that pressing closer together and pushing will magically make them next ). I happen to be in front of the only other two white English-speakers in the room and I cannot help but overhear their conversation, as they are discussing the most recent detonated bombs and bouts of violence. I think that they cannot possibly be discussing Bangladesh, the country I just arrived in only twenty minutes ago. My curiosity overwhelms me and I turn and ask them where said bombs are being planted? They assured me that it was taking place right there in Dhaka! Wonderful! I will leave that part out when I call home.
When I finally push my way to the front, the customs officer decides is it not my day to enter Bangladesh. Why? I do not have an address at which I will be staying. He refuses to take pity on me, to feel sorry for the clueless American girl who has clearly not yet become familiarized in the art of bullying a Bangladeshi customs officer.


I am definitely going to start crying in the airport.


This is my where my fellow English speaker friends swoop in, proceed to curse the officer in Bengali (I do not speak Bengali, but I am pretty sure that is what was going on) and before I know it, the nice man shrugs his shoulder, stamps my passport and waves me through. I decided not to stick around in case he changes his mind (he seemed a bit fickle).
When I finally get out of the airport, the scene that awaits me assures me that the little airport drama will only be the beginning of my other side of the world adventure.

My Love/Hate Relationship With Your Travel Blog

There. I said it.

I love your travel blog and I hate your travel blog.

Who are you? Anyone with a blog  filled with colorful tales of escapades abroad. You know, like the time you had to sweet-talk the Indian consulate into giving you a visa, got swindled by the taxi driver in Costa Rica, went partying with the Germans in Guatemala, sustained an injury on the Great Wall of China,  or  got mobbed by Bangladeshi street kids while handing out oranges.

Here's the thing:  I have been possessed with a touch of the green-eyed monster as of late and I am not completely sure why. All of the above adventures are mine, so it is clear that I have not just been sitting at home on my duff for the last 10 years. Truly, I have been blessed with amazing opportunities to see our wonderful world. But I want more. And every time I read a blog post detailing some place I have yet to see, or even some place I have already been, I am overwhelmed with either wanderlust or nostalgia, or what I like to call "wanderalgia", a lethal combination of both of those.  When wanderalgia strikes, I am stuck in a mopey, petulant child funk the rest of the day and that is when I know the madness must stop. Timeout from your blog is put in effect.  But then I miss the updates and the stories and inevitably, I go back for more, just like a jilted suitor.
For most of the last 10 years, I have always had some sort of plan in the works for next adventure. Always a next destination, always something to look forward to. This past year has been no exception either-Tanzania/Zanzibar at the end of last year, followed by Turkey in April, followed by our Wild West honeymoon adventure. And now? I got nuthin.'  Zip. The agenda is free and clear and I don't like it one single bit. Which is why I have troubles reading your blog sometimes. The nagging thoughts start at the headline and whisper their way through the entry--"what if I never go anywhere again? what if my adventures are over?

"WELL PLAN SOMETHING THEN YOU CRAZY PERSON!"  you are probably thinking.  Well, I'd like to, but I can't just go out willy-nilly and spend cold hard cash on airfare and souvenirs when I have newly assumed rent and other life expenses  to pay right?

But that is nothing compared to the kingpin of negative thoughts, and here is my second confession for today:  I am going to be 30 in just a few weeks. With 30 comes all sorts of adult things. Marriage is a recent development for me, THAT birthday is on the  imminent horizon, and according to everybody who finds out about said recent marriage, kids will soon be coming along. Perish that thought right now. Eventually, yes of course, but right this second is not on the schedule. Soon"ish."  Am I getting old? Washed-up? Settled? *gasp*. I hope not. But without a trip planned, it sure feels like it. So, right now, I live vicariously through you and yours, which is both the curse and the blessing.

Now, before you consider calling one of my loved ones and putting me on some sort of watch, here is the good news. As I have grown up, I have also grown to appreciate the "lesser" adventures.  No, I don't need an African extravaganza every year to keep me happy. Sure, it would be fantastic, but it simply isn't going to happen. And if I don't accept that, I would just be plain miserable. I truly enjoy the smaller weekend adventures, the day trips, and the fun night out. It's not all about crickets on a stick or wild bus rides in the Andes Mountains with me.

Having clarified my mental state, I still would buy a ticket somewhere right now if I had the resources to do so. But here is the other good news: when I first started writing this post, I had only the plan of going back to substitute teaching this year, despite having finished my studies and gotten certified. Then came the phone call heard 'round the world. 36  hours and one 12 minute interview later, I am writing to you as the newest public school teacher in the WV. Woo-hoo! Benefits! Paid snow days! Aaaannnd.....most importantly, a steady paycheck with which to start planning my next trip! All is right with the world again. At least until I read your next blog entry with glowing reports of some back-alley gem of a restaurant in a Beijing hutong or the spectacular sunset on Bali. Then I may want to throw darts at my computer screen.

Am I alone here? Any other wanderlusters ever go through this period in life? Perhaps not, but it sure felt good to get all this down in print.

Reeeealllly important call at the Great Wall.