A girl and a backpack went to Europe...

And came back with much more than that.

I'll be posting these in chronological order (sorry so late!).

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For the past few years, I have had writer's block. Writing has always been a creative outlet for me, words coming easily as a way to express what I don't convey well when speaking. I have struggled for inspiration for a while, feeling like most of my thoughts were too private or too uninteresting to share in a public forum. But I am glad to share it with others now. Part of the appeal of writing is that I can share my thoughts, which I am excited to do on my first solo trip.

My darling friend Melissa, who has taken many solo backpacking trips on her own, recently inspired me to do the same. So I looked for the cheapest flight on Google flights and booked it.

The first question I get is, "where are you going?!"

The answer is "London and Paris."

This exchange is generally followed by "who are you going with?" and when I say "I'm going by myself," it is invariably met with some form of incredulity. 

My grandmother about had a heart attack when I told her this. 

"BY YOURSELF?"

"Yes!"

"But WHY?"

"Well, nobody I know was available to go during my winter break."

"But do you know where you're going?"

"I'll have a map."

"But do you know WHERE to go?"

"I'll figure it out!"

"But you're going with a tour guide, right?"

I was born thirteen weeks premature.

My mother once told me that she thinks that's why I have been a lifelong procrastinator. I think she might be right, as she is about most everything. I also believe that is why I cling so tightly to my family as a safety net. I'm in my late twenties, and I still have a great fear of doing anything on what I perceive is my own. If I don't know how to do something, where to go, how to get there, or what to expect, I just won't do it. In fact, I will go out of my way to avoid these situations. I once dropped a college class because I couldn't figure out where the classroom was (I like to think things are different now, but sometimes I wonder). 

I am also not the kind of person who can do anything without meticulous planning. Every detail of every outing must be planned in maniacal detail. Every outcome must be anticipated, analyzed, and generally, agonized over. I used to go to great lengths to hide this thing that I saw as a character flaw, but now I see it as an asset, and I've learned to use it to my advantage.

These anecdotes probably illustrate for you how a solo trip to Europe booked two weeks in advance might cause me to devolve into utter panic. While the maintenance crew de-iced the wings and the cabin lights were dim, I cried a little bit with my coat inside out over my head like Cousin It. I'm not convinced no one saw me, but I was alone in my row, and homesickness overtook me for a moment before I remembered I was actually only in Minnesota. 

The options were either a) go on a trip alone, or b) don't go on a trip at all. The latter was unacceptable to me. That first trip to South Africa inspired in me a desire for self-discovery and something more that I am still constantly chasing, and I want to search deeper for it with every chance I get. 

An unintended consequence of this trip is, then, pushing myself outside of my comfort zone. That doesn't come easily to most people, and especially not to me. But with every subsequent trip, I have tried to recreate the genuine and childlike realization I had on an African ferry that there is more to this life than striving for a mortgage in a middle class midwestern town. We are here to share our lives with each other and help each other and find meaning and feel small. We are here to discover and never stop learning or challenging ourselves. We are here to savor the present, not to agonize about the future. 

As my mother says, one other consequence of my premature birth (or, as I think, of a couple decades of habit) is that I constantly struggle to feel "ready" for anything. Again, if I don't feel ready, I will not do the thing that scares me. And to be honest, most things scare me.

I don't feel ready for this. I'm terrible with directions. I can't read maps. What if nobody speaks English? What if I don't meet anyone? What if I get lost and just ride around in the tube for hours on end??? What if I can't find a place to eat? What if I don't feel well? What if I don't have any euros for the bathroom??? What was I thinking?

???????

My thoughts get darker and I have a sudden and strong feeling that I am going to die in a ball of fire from a car bomb.  I also don't like takeoffs and landings. My dad once told me that almost all airplane mechanical failures occur during takeoff and landing. I twisted my hands in my lap until they were red.

What happens to our innards when flying? Do they swell up like fat intestinal sausages? I call my mother in a panic, whispering to her under my coat until I have to put my phone in airplane mode. Oh, crap.