At a certain point, you just gotta jump.
I’ve got a bag o nuts. I’ve got David Sedaris’ Naked, some sarcastic commentary to lighten the heavy load I’m about to carry. I’ve got all the toiletries I would need perfectly packaged in TSA approved 3 oz bottles, separated into baggies and then separated again between carry-on and checked baggage.
I’ve got a water bottle and a steri pen; medications, camera and 5 more pounds of wires, adapters and other digital paraphernalia that now seem required for any modern person’s travel abroad.
I’ve got my ph-balanced punani wipes and the army green, convertible pants I thought were stylish before my adorable pregnant friend Shana called them “park-ranger pants.” Now, I’m traveling the world in pants I have a complex about and have her to thank.
I’ve got my Lonely Planet guides I so carefully skimmed and photocopied portions of to lighten my bags. Only now it all seems like a futile attempt to prepare me for something I have no real grasp on. And its boring historical references and transportation tips bring me to realize that nothing can compare me for this trip. I’ll figure it out my damn self, I think confidently.
Surely my superior communication skills and charm should count for something. And when the time comes to consume and tour and be like everyone else I’ll resort to print. But until then, I’ll use instinct as my guide.
Instinct first came in handy when returning from my short 3-hour tour of Taipei made freely available to people with long layovers at the airport.
My 14-hour layover began at 6 in the morning and the tour began at 8. There were just five of us: a middle-aged Swedish couple; a very tan, very loud Canadian in her twenties who spoke with the kind of accent Madonna used when she first moved to London – Michigan girl pretends she was properly bred; and Jaan (pronounced Yon). I’m not sure where he hailed from.
The sleepy Taipei tour came to an end around 11am and the Canadian girl started rallying everyone to go on a Taipei adventure before our evening flights. She wanted to break off from the tour and prance about town stuffing her bags with as many things as she could fit before approaching the airplane weight limit and snapping iphone pictures at every point of interest.
“I’m just gonna go back to the airport, rest and get some food,” I said.
“Why,” she asked.
“Because navigating the Taipei public transit system and shopping at street markets is not something I really feel like doing right now.”
And in a wiser than thow tone and wide eyes, she said, “I used to be a Hawaii-5-star-resort kind of girl when I first left on this trip 7 months ago and hadn’t ever been on a real trip by myself, and I was really scared at first. But after a while you start to trust yourself. Don’t worry, you’ll get the hang of it. You’ll get it.”
I looked at her blankly and said, “Thanks for the advise.” And walked away thankful to make my own decisions, free of any group who would think to impose their agendas on me.
Of course later, I learn my yoni wipes are dried up and useless, my charm only works on white people and I’m no different than everyone else in Chiang Mai.
the grass over here 