Pros and Cons

I MISS TUBING.
So, I've been home for the better part of a week now and I'm trying to weigh the pros and cons of being back. This is what I got so far.

Pros of being home:
Burritos
Pizza
Salad
Tartine Bakery
Good food in general
My friends
My sister
My parents
San Francisco
Free rent (for the time being)
TV shows like Tool Academy and No Reservations
Not having to wear a backpacking backpack
Conditioner and good bath products in general
A closet full of clothes
My brown boots
Clean laundry


Cons:
Living with mom and dad and NOT in San Francisco
Driving
bored out of my mind
I miss traveling daily
completely broke
no job
no job prospects
shitty economy
everything is expensive
Daily pangs of sadness for Asia--wishing I was there
It's freezing
My tan has dissapeared
There's no awesome beach
Looking for jobs makes me want to shoot myself on a daily basis
I have to wear makeup again
I have no excuse to not shower
No excuse to wear my really ugly hippie pants
No cute boys with various accents
NO BUCKETS
depressed because of all of the above
BLAH

Ok, let's be honest. This pro and con list is stupid. We all know I would rather be traveling. That being said, home is home. Its comforting, I have lots of amazing friends and an amazing family, and I will always cherish it. But a part of me, may not be ready to be at home quite yet. I still have too much adventure left in me and at least I can admit it.

Life As I know It

It's been two days. Two days since ha gao and shu mai and shopping to my heart's content in SOHO (Hong Kong's not New York). Two days since Victoria Peak and antique shopping on Cat street. I loved Hong Kong. Now, I'm home, in California, and it's strange. Strange, not in a good way. I had a panic attack/epiphany mid sleep on the plane ride home where I dreamed of Laos and tubing in Vang Vieng, then I woke up a little startled and teary eyed and realized, It's over. My amazing trip is done, and now I'm on a plane home back to everything I left. Back to job searching, apartment hunting, working, and all the responsibility that comes with it. It's real life. It's reality, and it's what I have to do, regardless of how much I don't want to.

I miss traveling already. It's only been two days and my heart aches when I look at photos from my trip. I miss not knowing where the hell I was going to wake up the next morning, or where I was headed the next day. I miss the boundless opportunities of friendship and knowing that your next travel friend might be sitting right next to you on the bus, or at the bar next door. I haven't seen any of my friends yet. I want to. I really do, I love them. I need to get over myself. I need to get my ass out of bed and stop being depressed because my trip is over. I should just be grateful that I ever got to have it. I need to realize that real life, sometimes, has to be like this. I can't travel forever, and even if I could, I know myself and I need a home base. I think the scariest thing is that I don't have a job and I don't have an apartment, and basically, I feel like I have to start from scratch. It's kind of an intense thing to realize. It's like getting laid off and realizing the world is at your fingertips. I don't feel like I should, nor do I want to, hide behind a desk for the rest of my life. There are so many opportunities out there, I just need to find them.

I truly think that the reason people get stuck in places they hate, relationships they hate, and jobs they hate is because they are too scared to change it. Too scared to take a risk that might be a bad decision. Too comfortable in hating, too comfortable in the mundane. I want to go past that. I don't ever want to make another decision out of fear or laziness. Fear especially. I want to be brave. I want to take risks and I want to do things that are new and scary instead of always, the status quo. My trip has taught me to be brave. That sometimes, even though you have no idea what the outcome will be, being spontaneous and actually doing what you always wanted to do is worth the risk. It's worth the outcome, because at the end of the day, you'll realize that you did something for yourself. You didn't do it because that's what you thought you had to do, or what your parents wanted you to do, or what your friends think you should do. At the end of the day, it's yours. This trip will always be mine. I'll always have the experience as something beautiful and amazing that I decided to do with my life. I gave up my apartment, potentials for jobs, and a life in San Francisco to travel for four months. Now, I'm paying the consequences -- no money, no job, no apartment. But, it was worth every second. Every penny. Every risk. I don't regret a thing.

Now, I just need to learn to move on, take the experience that I had, learn from it, and use it for my future. I admit that I have often had a hard time letting go of beautiful experiences. After I came back from Spain, I was distraught and depressed for months. I couldn't let go of the experience and I compared everything to Barcelona. All I wanted to do was go back. I still want to go back, to be honest. After Japan, it took me a long time to accept that I was no longer there. I regretted leaving. It's only now, that I really realize that I left for a reason and everything happened the way it was fated. Now, I've found myself, for the past two days, bundled in my bed (which is heavenly) and sulking. I should be out seeing my friends and doing fun things, but a part of me just wants to sleep and dream of tubing in Van Vieng, beach hopping in Thailand, and temple climbing in Cambodia. That's depression talking. When you are more inclined to dream than do fun things in real life, something needs to change. I keep telling myself I just need a few days to adjust, to get used to things, so for now, I'm cutting myself a break. It's only my second day, after all, and I feel like I'm breaking up with a boyfriend of four months. You can't get over that overnight.

I feel bad that I'm not overly-enthusiastic to be home. I love being with my family and I'm excited to see my friends and I don't want them to think they aren't important. I feel guilty almost, like I should be really happy to be home again and I know they are all excited for me to be back. Maybe it's not fair, but it's just how I feel at the moment. Sometimes it's hard to realize that while you've been away on a life changing adventure, everyone else has been working there ass off doing the same shit they were doing four months ago. Not much has changed, just yourself. I've changed a lot and maybe I'm scared to get back into the old San Francisco routine. Maybe I'm scared that after all this, it just won't feel right. Maybe I don't want to. Maybe, just maybe, I've come to realize, I want something different. I dunno, I guess only time will tell. After all, it's only been two days. Heartbreak can only be cured with time.

The End of an Era

Today, as I munched on my tofu omelet and accompanying sauteed spinach from the token vegan restaurant in Seminyak, the reality of my trip coming to an end came crashing down on me like a tsunami. Five days. I only have five days left until I am back in California, where I'll be spending my days helping my sister and my mom wedding plan, while simultaneously job searching. Job searching, ugh. Reality, ugh.

As the end approaches, I feel more and more exhausted, more and more ready to be home. I'm going to miss backpacking. Waking up every morning knowing you have the world at your fingertips, knowing that an adventure is at your door is a wonderful way to live life for a few months. I know I couldn't do this forever, and I'm enviable as well as awe struck by the backpackers I've met who are doing it for years. There's this one guy I met in Hoi An, Vietnam, named Mr. Strong, who is traveling by himself for ten years. Ten years ... doesn't he get lonely? I know I would.

I've started to despise my backpack. I've made it a goal not to have to put it on until I go home. At every opportunity I get, I ask the cab driver or the boat guy or the hotel dude to help me carry it. They do, they have to, and thank God. I'm proud of myself though. I've come a long way from my shopaholic tendencies, living in a room with closets overflowing with unnecessary items of clothing that I can't part with. I've worn the same three outfits for the past four months. As a girl who loves outfits, this is a huge accomplishment. I haven't worn heels in four months. Yeah, I often miss my vintage dresses and fashionable digs and have even found myself on sleepless nights, thinking of all the cute outfits I was going to wear when I get home, but I love the fact that it takes me five minutes to get ready now. I basically stopped wearing makeup. I haven't cut my hair in seven months. I'm a hippie. It's awesome. I've evolved. I feel free from all that shit, even though I know once I get home, I'll go back to it ... a part of me wishes that I won't.

I've learned a lot on this trip, and even if I trade in my hippie fisherman pants and headband, for my high waisted jeans and a fedora, the lessons I've learned will stay with me, regardless of how my appearance will change. I've learned to take care of myself in a way I never knew how before. I've gained a confidence that can only be found in traveling. I hope it will stay with me, I hope it never fades, and I hope the free-spirited nature of my travels will become something inherent in me that doesn't leave just because I have a 9-5 job.

I've seen breathtaking views in the form of ancient temples, intense city-scapes, hedonistic beach towns, and the people that encompass them. I've eaten the best Vietnamese food I've ever had, learned how to make Spring Rolls in Hoi An, ate grasshoppers in Vietnam and Thailand, and snake in Cambodia. I'm a veteran of the culinary world now. I may not be Anderw Zimmern or Anthony Bourdain, but slowly and surely, I'll make it there. At least, I'll die trying.

I have friends from all over the world now. In the back of my head I'm already planning trips to see them all in places like, Ireland, New Zealand, Australia, England, and Germany. I've had conversations that will stick with me for a long time, maybe for the rest of my life. Traveling is half the places you see, and half, the people you meet. I've made friends like Daniel, Ally, and Emliy, who live in San Francisco, and I know I'll reunite with when I get home. Maybe there won't be any fishbowls of blue tinted alcohol to reunite over, but there will sure be a lot of Vietnam memories to rehash over drinks.

I leave for Hong Kong tomorrow to meet Denny. He left yesterday morning and I've just been hanging out, reading a lot, and just having alone time. I'm excited for Hong Kong. I'm excited to eat some dim sum and party like a rock star, after my much needed hiatus from drinking for the past few weeks. I guess for the rest of the day I'll go back to devouring books like Cheetos and eating vegan food. Maybe I'll go to that yoga class I've been trying to go to for the past four months. Just maybe.

Homeward Bound

I'm scared. Terrified really. I'm so scared, I might cry. Enough with the dramatics, I go home in two weeks. Tentatively. I always like to add the tentatively in the end, because, really when traveling you never know what could happen. Jenna wants me to meet her in Malaysia, which I would love to do, but don't think I have the funds. Money fucks with everything, yet it's the only way I get to keep on doing cool things. Cool things like meet Jenna in Malaysia. Cool things like get that scuba diving certificate I've always wanted. Sigh.

A part of me feels prepared to go home and a part of me feels like sobbing because I don't want to. Let's be honest ... I'm exhausted. Moving around from place to place with a backpack that gets heavier by the day, sleeping in unknown beds and rooms with cockroaches scampering around on cold tiled floors, gets exhausting after four months. It's been the best thing I've ever done in my life, one of the most life changing experiences, and at the same time, I feel like it may be the right time to go home. I miss my family. I miss my friends. I miss the little things like waking up on a Sunday morning and walking across the street to my neighborhood coffee shop in North Beach and eating a flaky croissant while sipping a cappuccino and reading a good book. I miss chimichangas in the mission at 2 a.m. after a night dancing to eighties tunes at Beauty Bar with my girls--Anita, Cat, Ang, and Shy. I miss sipping champagne on a hot summer night with my boys at Cafe flore in the Castro. I miss baker beach in July, and I miss brunch in Noe Valley with Anita, and dim sum in China town with Amy and Pete. Maybe after I do all these things and after a week of being home, I'll yearn to be on the road again, to be in Asia. But regardless, I miss those little things that make my life into what it is. My friends, my family, and San Francisco.

I love traveling; I've had the time of my life. I've realized a lot of things on this trip, but one of the most important things that I've realized is how much I love my friends at home and how much they mean to me. They make my San Francisco. They make it fun, they make me love it, and I want to return because of them. It's gonna be hard finding a job, hopefully I'll be able to find one in San Francisco and not have to leave my foggy city yet. I hope for the best upon my arrival, and until I return, I'll be laying on a beach somewhere in Bali hanging out with randoms from around the world, or stuffing my face with dim sum in Hong Kong.

Every Rose Has Its Thorn ... Even on New Years

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