Nearly There

Have you ever watched Departures? Eat, Pray, Love?  Maybe even Eurotrip?

All  of the above seem to kindle the latent wanderlust that hearken our souls back to our nomadic roots of moving, of going, of seeking. The adventure, romance, and life-defining experience of just packing a bag, getting on the plane, and setting proverbial sail to some distant land is a more and more common theme in both pop-culture and literature as the borders of the world become more and more accessible and affordable for North Americans.

So, I'm going. This 5'4, 21-year old Thunder Bay born and bred female student is packing her bag, getting on a plane, and not coming back for 16 weeks and three continents.

Spoiler. So far, It's not romantic. It's terrifying, exhausting, and infuriating, and I haven't even left yet. That is what all the glorifying movies fail to get across. Of course it's glamourous enough to show the departing plane or the culture-shocking arrival- showing the trips back and forth to the passport office, or the increasingly panicked phone calls with the Brazilian Visa Centre, and the ceaseless internet searching for multi-destination flights that all led me weeping to a helpful and patient travel agent who assisted me with my dizzying flight and insurance arrangements would be boring. The onus of preparation is hellish in itself.

Yet, I am still visualizing how it will feel to step of a plane into a place I have only little idea of. How I will like my apartment in Santiago, or what the family I will be living with in Brazil will be like, or how I will adjust to my work placement in Steenburg Vineyards in the Cape winelands of South Africa. Will I collapse, or strengthen?

People rarely return from these sorts of ventures the same as they left them. The extent of the benefit must be enormous for it to be worth the agonizing planning stage. For every time I've crowed my pride in myself, I've nearly wept with frustration and fear when I think about using public transit, getting lost, and being sold into a human trafficking ring. Unlikely as that scenario hopefully is, that doesn't lessen the terror of the moment. I want to chronicle all aspects of my travels- the beauty, the glamour, and the sometimes overwhelming confusion and fear. I want the wisdom, yes. But I also want to remember the rocky, obscure path that led to it.

On May 4th of this year, I will be be on my own glamorously departing plane, off into the wild blue yonder. I'll try to let you know just how amazing, painful, wonderful, and terrible it is. Provided I don't get sold into that human trafficking ring, maybe you'll want to try it, next year. Until next time (please indulge my delusions of Christiane Amanpour),

Your overseas correspondent, Shannon