In My Rucksack -- Grand Junction, CO

The last few days have been spent babysitting adorable children,

learning how to work with some new editing programs on my iPhone while taking advantage of my little sister's elastic face,

 chipping away at the painting I'm doing for my family,

 drinking coffee with my father in our favorite coffee shop, 

 playing around with partner yoga in the park,

I love partner yoga nearly as much as I love bacon

 and making sure that I notice and appreciate the beauty of Judy's garden.

I've also been working on my website and on assembling a team to help research my destinations for me, but more on that in my next post. 

My classes at Colorado Mesa University culminated on Saturday -- both the yoga vinyasa I taught and the art and philosophy I audited. I am disappointed to see these happy pieces phase out of my life, but I'm proud of the things I learned and the things I taught. At the end of my last yoga class, a student approached me and said, 

"I want you to know that I've enjoyed every class I've taken. I've gotten so much out of them. You've made my life a lot better and you make the lives of the rest of your students a lot better. Thanks for teaching." 

I'm a fairly emotionally available/volatile person, and this nearly brought me to tears. Understanding that someone appreciates something about which you are passionate -- that they truly benefit from that which you have to give -- is one of the most validating and joyous sensations I've yet experienced. 

 I have 24 days remaining before I leave for Ireland. As this is about the amount of time I spend at each placement abroad, I’m viewing the remainder of my stay in Grand Junction as the first part of my adventure. One of the most beautiful things about traveling is that even the mundane becomes exciting. I believe that Bill Bryson sums this up well:

  

“To my mind, the greatest reward and luxury of travel is to be able to experience everyday things as if for the first time, to be in a position in which almost nothing is so familiar it is taken for granted.”

We take for granted the things that we expect to have tomorrow. The things we expect to have the day after that. Those things that are consistent and support us in our daily lives. When traveling, consistency drops to a bare minimum. I expect my backpack to zip close. I expect to be fed and housed by my hosts. I expect that my plane ticket to Dublin will result in my person being delivered to Dublin.

Will my bed be comfortable? I don’t know, but if it is, I’ll certainly appreciate it.

Will the food by good? I don’t know, but if it is, I’ll certainly appreciate it.

Will the people be pleasant? I don’t know, but if they are, I’ll certainly appreciate them.

And if everything is “miserable”? Well, I can pack my bag (that hopefully zips) and leave. Or I can stick it out a couple of weeks and start my entirely new placement (with no expectations) when the “miserable” one runs its course.

A life of constant movement is a life of little attachment. To the positive or the negative. I can only take with me what will fit into my bag, and having a behemoth bag whilst traveling is a real pain in the ass.

Speaking of bags, I’ve been analyzing my own. I’m packing for this trip using the knowledge I gleaned during my last about what was useful and what was entirely superfluous.

Useful

Light, super absorbent towel (can be bought at REI, online, or at other outdoorsy stores). These are superbly convenient because they take up so little space in your bag, and when 20 kilos is all you’ve got, the lightness and compactiblity of your items become their most valuable attributes. 

 My towel was actually a large decision to make. I volunteer with people, so I should get free towel use out of the bargain, right? Well sure, but I’m not volunteering all the time. When couchsurfing, it is only every so often that your host is able to offer you a towel. “Who needs a towel?” my fellow Coloradans are probably scoffing under their breaths (I was once a scoffer, so I know). To them I say, while it is entirely possible to air-dry in Colorado, I dare you to attempt air-drying in Ireland during the winter. Do it.

Kindle! My previous kindle was defunct, but while it worked, it kept me entertained and inspired. Kindles are especially important when traveling in countries where your native language is not spoken by the masses. As an English speaker, it was absurdly difficult to find inexpensive English books in Morocco. A functional kindle would have been very welcome indeed.

Laptop. For so many reasons. Make sure you have a computer with a webcam so that Skyping family, friends, and future hosts is easier.

iPhone. Even though I couldn’t use it to make calls abroad (I suspend my service when I travel), it served as a marvelous camera, note taker, calendar, connecter to wifi, alarm clock, iPod – everything.

SMARTWOOL EVERYTHING. Smartwool is easy to wash, it is incredibly warm, it is lightweight, 

and the quality is terrific. This time round, I have smartwool long underwear, tights, socks, gloves, and shirts.

Headlamp. Harvesting kale and spinach in the dark in Ireland was significantly easier with a headlamp. As were night walks and early morning hikes. If your destination is infamous for an unreasonable amount of precipitation, bite the bullet and spend a few extra dollars on a waterproof headlamp.

Sarong. Ladies, this garment is versatile, lightweight, quick to dry, and (after worn once) my Italian host started introducing me to customers as his daughter. However, do not attempt to enter old churches or monasteries wearing nothing but a sarong. You will be thrown out onto the cobbled streets like a harlot, and you’ll spend the rest of the day feeling skanky and indignant. Jesus doesn’t appreciate your bare shoulders.

Sewing kit. When long-term traveling, your clothes do wear out and if you’re not making money, you probably don’t want to pay for a new pair of pants every time you lose a button. I was lucky enough to run into Italian grandmothers who nearly pulled my shabby pants off my sorry ass when they saw how unprecedentedly ratty they’d become, but I certainly wasn’t always so lucky. Invest in a sewing kit. You can buy them on Amazon for less than five dollars, and you can always use the included needles to dig rose thorns/nettles/splinters out of your smarting thumbs at the end of your volunteer day.

Earplugs. You never know where you’ll be sleeping or whom you’ll be sleeping next to (or the openness of their nasal cavities). You never know how many crying children there will be on your bus (there will always be at least one). You never know how late into the night the street performers will trill and shriek. You never when your scandalous Portuguese hostel-mates will stumble through the door, drunkenly singing Brittney Spears. You never know how loud the call to prayer will be from your particular window, but you do know that the azan will be blaring before the crack of dawn.

Knitting needles. Bring something with which you can mindlessly fidget. My knitting needles brought me unquantifiable pleasure when waiting for hosts/buses/everything else in Ireland. Different cultures operate on different timetables. This is just something that as the traveler, you must be willing to adapt to if you want to stay on good terms with the locals and enjoy your visit. In order to adapt more easily, find a hobby that keeps you occupied try to understand that your host will show up after she has finished drinking her second cup of tea with her last veg box customer. As is polite.

What I WISH I’d brought...

Boots. When going on a long-term, low budget, traveling adventure, it is absolutely essential to think long and hard about your footwear. In my experience, people have been incredibly generous with their possessions. They gave me their old shirts and sweaters and skirts – but shoes? Shoes are pretty particular, especially when one’s feet resemble two bricks with ten equally sized plums on the end. On my last trip, I brought my barefoot running shoes and a pair of flipflops. My paddock boots broke down after my first month in Ireland, so I abandoned them in Liam’s Crookstown fields. Oops. My feet were a sore subject from then on. Ireland is wet. My feet were wet. Ireland is cold. My feet were cold. I needed boots rather desperately, but my stalwart, ridiculous resolve to save money trumped my rather severe physiological needs. That said, analyze where you’re going and what you’ll be doing. Visiting the UK? Spending time outside? Boots. Spending time in Italy or France? Flipflops or sandals are nice. Make sure that you only have one pair of heavy shoes, though. Wear these shoes on planes so they don’t weigh down your bag. Remember, you only have 20 kilos. Those kilos are precious and ought not be wasted.

An unlocked phone. While the Internet is perfectly adequate for initial contact with hosts, having the ability to check in every now and then certainly takes a massive load off of my mind. Also, you never know when you’re going to be able to check your facebook, couchsurfing, or workaway profile. Internet cafés can be few and far between in the Irish countryside, and you don’t want to have to purchase an espresso just to check your email, anyway. Unlocked phones can be purchased on Amazon.com for as little as 20 dollars, and you can purchase pretty cheap SIM cards upon arrival at your destination.

More smartwool. Seriously. Stock up. You will be ever so happy you did.

Yoga Paws. My yoga mat was heavy and awkward. If you’re a yoga addict, consider investing in a pair of these guys – they’re much more transportable and they give a good amount of grip and support.

More than one adaptor. I thought I was on the ball my last trip, having remembered to bring an adaptor for the UK and an adaptor for the rest of Europe. However, I only brought one of each, and this was terribly limiting and frustrating when it came to transferring videos and charging cameras. Charging equipment became a choreographed event that required an excessive amount of forethought.

A way to keep all my cords organized. Tangling your computer, iPhone, Kindle, and camera cables is destructive and immensely irritating -- and an easy to fix. Purchase some mesh storage bags and reusable ties, and then enjoy not having to engage in an epic struggle every time you need to charge your camera.   

A good camera other than my camcorder. As my camcorder is vital to my interview project, I’m wary of taking it on adventures wherein it could be damaged. Hence, I purchased some lenses for my iPhone, and the peace of mind is well worth the hundred dollars. I’m impressed with the image quality, and it's quite the asset to have so many editing apps available on my iPhone. 

Superfluous

An ultraviolet water filter wand. If you’re volunteering or staying with families, you generally don’t need to worry about water. This was just an extraneous cool gimmick I carted around with me and never used. If you’re planning on camping/you’re going to third world countries, consider packing one. If not, don’t bother with a steripen or other water filtration device.

Lots of notebooks. Resist this temptation! I know the feeling of a book in your hands and a pen between your fingers is relaxing and comforting and visceral, but wean yourself of your moleskin and use your laptop instead. This visceral material piles up. I probably had four of five pounds worth of scribbled in notebooks by the end of my last trip, and I loathed having to cart all that useless weight around with me. But not quite as much as I was loathe to part with the notes from my trip. Make life easier on yourself and store your memories electronically. Only use notebooks if you’re willing to pay to mail them home, if you’re willing to throw them away, or if you’d like to make gifts of them to people you meet along the way. A travel journal from a random stranger could have a profound impact on someone’s life. You never know.