You know the feeling you have when you’re on a rollercoaster heading for the first, big drop? You’ve made it through the horrendous line, gotten buckled in your seat, and are now slowly gaining altitude to the tune of loud clicks. It is both exciting and terrifying.  I mean, you did willingly sign up for this, right? Click. Your hands grasp the safety bar as you look over to the side. Click. You see the people in the park becoming smaller and smaller. Click. You burst out in an unavoidable, nervous laugh. Click. Your stomach now churning, you start to think to yourself: “Here goes…”

And as the interval between clicks become longer and the roller coaster starts to move slower, you take a deep breath because “here goes” is right. There is no turning back now.

That’s the best way I can describe how I felt on October 12^th, 2016. It was a day that I had looked forward to for a long time. Pinching myself didn’t work; neither did biting my cheek or checking the calendar. I felt like the entire morning of was a dream. My stomach was churning but I could not stop smiling (even if it was a nervous smile). Every emotion possible passed through me in those few hours, but did I willingly sign up for this?  YES.

We were now on the metaphorical rollercoaster and the “clicks” had begun. We had our one-way tickets, carry-on sized backpacks, and passports in hand. We said our goodbyes to family and friends, made it through security, and were headed onto the passenger boarding bridge to our first of many plane rides.

At this point, rollercoaster or 2.5 month backpacking trip, your decision has been made, and either you now hate yourself or you are so ecstatic that your face hurts. My face hurt. My stomach was in knots (the good kind), and as we made our way into our assigned seats, it felt real. I no longer had to pinch myself or check my calendar. I was in my window seat next to the only person I’ve ever dreamt of sitting next to on this day. Tears began to rush down my face and I laughed at myself, knowing I was embarrassing him. “You have to let me have this one,” I said. And with a reluctant eye roll and shake of his head, he grabbed my hand. This was the moment I was waiting for. My life was now beginning; the life I wanted, and the life I hoped for and was never quite sure I’d get to live, was here.

Full disclosure: The above photo is not only the main inspiration behind this blog, but also the meaning. I cannot write each of these stories without thanking the one person who made it possible. Can you guess which one of us is the Realist and which is the Daydreamer? LOL Thank you Ryan Michael Walker.  I could not have imagined sharing this with anyone but you. 

In my upcoming posts, I plan to relive our stories so that they accurately depict our experience over the 2.5 months of traveling (and beyond). My intention is to relay them to you as if you were there, so that you can learn what we learned and feel what we did in those moments. Because no matter how many books, articles, or blogs I read before we left, I could never get a feel for what it would actually be like to live it.

A backpacking trip is not a vacation. Which is why I keep eluding to this “roller coaster” metaphor. The entire experience had many ups and downs; much like a condensed version of life. And at the end, I would have gladly ran back to the horrendous line and done it all over again.