The internship that changed everything.

So I went on vacation and have had a blog post about that on hold for several days, just getting back in the groove and honestly enjoying not having anything that must get done at any particular time. That's what can happen on a vacation, especially a long one-- you realize you can do without anything that's not in this suitcase, this hotel room, this time zone, and that starts to feel normal, and you feel simplicity in a way you haven't felt in awhile. And then you come back to the house full of stuff, the fridge needs restocking, the bills need paying, the weeds need pulling, and oh yes, you need to go back to work. So many things crowd back into your brain at once that you want a vacation from your vacation.

Anyway, that's for another post, and the bottom line is that we're home again. Which is also good in its own way. And I've been thinking this week about an anniversary--how, seven years ago, my dad and I drove up to Richmond, Virginia, where I would be doing an internship at Ginter Park Presbyterian Church before my senior year of college. When I accepted the opportunity, I had never spent a summer away from home. I always loved being at home for those prolonged breaks, be it in high school or college. But I had also spent a semester abroad during my previous school year, which I think prepared me to finally leave my family for a long summer stint. 

This was in a time when I was discerning whether or not ordained ministry was a path I wanted to walk down after college. Funnily enough, it was something that I'd hardly considered before this internship, even though I have been involved in church and religious life since I was a child. In this internship at this small PC(USA) church sandwiched between one of Richmond's historic neighborhoods (Ginter Park) and one of its most poverty-stricken (Chamberlayne Avenue), I would be shadowing the church's only pastor. It was daunting, but as soon as I went to the church's website, read more about its values, and more about Carla, then I knew I was going to a good place.

That summer, I learned to navigate an entirely new city for the first time on my own. I pumped my own gas for the first time (yeah, yeah -- I got my license late and didn't have a car in college), took a train up to DC, made a day-trip to visit a friend, found a favorite cafe, a favorite pizza place, grocery shopped, and even had my car battery die on my second-to-last day of the internship. I was truly more of an adult than I had ever been before.

I was trying out new vocational skills, too. I was expected at the church office every morning, and I even had my very own office. I audited a class at the seminary across the street, made visits to church members in the hospital and those who were homebound. I organized two volunteer events and a book discussion, and spent the Fourth of July with members of a group home near the church with the purest of hearts. I led at least one part of the liturgy every Sunday, wearing a robe. And I researched, wrote, and preached one sermon--that Sunday, it was a joy to look out on the small congregation and see not only faces that I had come to love, but to see my parents and brother, my home church pastor, and one of my college best friends. It was a good day.

I was finding out a lot about myself in all ways, and it was a journey that would continue when I returned for my senior year of college, when I would regroup with other classmates who had done similar internships around the country. We were all trying to figure out what we wanted to do with our lives, and how God would be a part of that. Sometimes--during that summer and after it--I felt like I was supposed to want to be a pastor. "You speak so clearly, you have such a good presence!" folks would tell me after worship. "Are you a student at the seminary?"

No, I'm a 21-year-old trying to figure out what God wants of me, and what I want with God.

Because even though I did speak so clearly, even though I did have a good presence, I didn't feel like I was as much of myself preaching in the pulpit as I was worshiping in the pew. It was a feeling that would take time to digest and explain, but I knew it clearly at my core. I felt most myself when I was among a congregation, singing hymns. I did not relish the feeling of being up front, and proclaiming. While several of my fellow discerning peers knew that they wanted to pursue seminary and ordination, I wasn't sure that I did. And when we had to write up what our "ideal job" would be, I was the vaguest of all.

The best part of looking back on those two summer months in 2009 is realizing that not only did I explore my inner and outer surroundings, but that I met people who still impact my life today. I met them at worship and over meals, through their hospitality and kindness. They took me out to dinner, invited me to an Indigo Girls concert, took me to the botanical gardens, made sure that I saw the Patrick Henry reenactment at the very church where he uttered "Give me liberty, or give me death!" Two people who became two of my very favorites hosted me in their home all summer, except for when a family member had a bout with the swine flu--and then I got to stay with another who became one of my very favorites. New friends drove me to Charlottesville, took me frolicking and boating on the James River, had me over to their homes, made me oatmeal cookies with almond icing, got me a cake when I preached my sermon. On June 25, 2009, one of them drove me over to the house of a friend of hers who had cable, turned on ESPN, and watched bemusedly as I freaked out when my classmate was picked seventh in the NBA draft.

All interns of all sorts should be so welcomed in the communities they have joined.

When I read back over that vague job description now, I recall my panic and frustration as I wrote it, a fall semester college senior. Now, it makes me smile. Because I believe that with this internship, God found people to lead me right to it.

Without my time at Ginter Park, I would not have had any inkling that church/religious work was something that I would or could do, even though (this is what always surprises me) I have loved and felt close to church ever since I was small. Why had I not considered it before?

Without that realization, I would not have reached out to churches for post-college jobs, or gotten the church youth/children/communications internship that kept me employed that first year out of school.

Without that position, I would not have been in Charlotte, or met my husband. Or gotten my first full-time job--at a church, in communications.

Without THAT position, I would not have been able to be where I am now--a communications specialist at an active, justice-seeking, worshipful, energetic divinity school.

Without my time at Ginter Park, I would not have met so many friends and supporters, people like Andrew, who kept in touch with me about writing. Who introduced me to Collegeville and encouraged me to apply to a workshop, where I first started seriously thinking about going back to school for writing. And then I did. 

It is fascinating and fulfilling and so much fun to begin to understand the many intricacies of that summer and how they still play into my life--especially since I had no idea what my life would look like back then. It's one of those stories that you can't see fully when you're in it, but as you start to unravel it, God is everywhere. In the faces of my friends and mentors, in my experience leading worship, in my uncertainties, in my burgeoning independence, in my explorations.

And the story doesn't end; that was just the first chapter.

Just some of my wonderful friends, several years after the internship.

Bubble-Popping (For the Grads).

I first wrote this a couple of years ago for my friends in the midst of the finals/graduation haze. Class of 2016, this is for you.

These have been the craziest days, bustling and brilliant and brace-yourself days that feel normal and yet... not. 

You've got one foot in the bubble and one foot in the real world, and those two feet are running you pretty ragged lately, more than ever, because on top of all the seminar papers there's a party, there's a dinner, there's a ceremony, or simply one last coffee date.

It's got this weird, inverted feeling of freshman orientation all over again, all the events and special attention. Except this time you're not standing in an awkward clump dropping your name, hometown, hall, potential major for the five hundredth time and trying to recall everyone else's. Friendship's gotta start somewhere, and I guess it comes from those introductory moments, but even more it comes from living together, side by side, struggle by struggle, and learning the magic of shared experience and growth. You've done that together. And during your final days of cramming and writing, during your in-between days on the beach, you realize - yet again - that you have made yourself a family.

From my perspective, there's no clean way to do this, to graduate from college. No matter how you feel about it, there will be something messy, whether it's your half-packed room, how much you have to drink, how you say goodbye to someone, or how many tears you shed. In fact, I feel slightly hypocritical even writing about it, because I don't know what your experience will be. Nobody can hand you a syllabus for these next weeks and months, even years. And that's the scariest part, and the best. 

Don't feel like you have to be everywhere at once. Okay, it's hard not to rush as excitement and nostalgia build and more people arrive and in a slam-packed parking lot with a dance floor and a truck full of beer, well, what else are you going to do besides rush around and find folks? It's full of fun and memory: the history you have created for yourself is right in front of you, in these shiny happy sad giddy tipsy gorgeous faces.

But in the midst of that, let yourself breathe. Let yourself be where you need to be. And if you're not sure where that is, then let yourself be where you are. Rest. In the few moments of quiet, look around. Go to your favorite tree on campus, a favorite place, even for just a minute. In the midst of the pealing bells and the chattering throngs, look around. Hug your advisor. Thank the dining staff and physical plant workers. Handle your family groupies with as much grace as you can - even if that means explaining to them that you need to go be with your friends for a little while. Help your apartment mates clean out the fridge (this I missed, and still feel a tad guilty). Inwardly bless what made your place your place - the tea kettle, the couch, the beer pong table, the porch. As you pack, yell to each other back and forth from your rooms. Blast some tunes and sing. Tell old stories and jokes and laugh. Stay up late and keep your door open for goodbyes. Cry. 

And here's what I really want to tell you, here's what you'll figure out as the days fly and you fly with them to whatever's next on your path:

It is the end of college, but it is a far cry from being the end of who and what you gained here. That's a big part of why we go to college in the first place, isn't it? To let it change us and grow us, to be open to what it gives us, lessons and loves in and out of the classroom - and to hold those close no matter how far we go from the red brick and green grass. It is the end of living together side by side (for the most part), but not the end of living together struggle by struggle. That, at least, I can say with certainty. These friends that you're hugging goodbye? There will be countless reunions, distance be damned. The bubble will burst, but the friendships will not. Even better - they will open up into the wide, wide world. They will take twists and turns that you never imagined. There will be phone calls and texts and visits and adventures and dance parties (welcome to the Wedding Years) and life, big life, to share together.

You have embraced so much and so many in the last four years. Celebrate it. Be proud of it. And know that it's only the beginning.

Peace be behind you, within you and before you as you go.

Fine Folks//Creative Callings: Allison Kooser, World Traveler

Allison at the Great Wall of China.

Happy Monday! I'm WAY pumped to share the second edition of my series Fine Folks//Creative Callings with you all. Allison Kooser and I first connected during our freshman year at Davidson College when I was basically adopted by her freshman hall (First Watts forever!), and grew closer as Lilly Foundation ministry fellows when we interned at churches and explored our vocational callings. Allison has always inspired me, whether it's her smarts, her ability to connect with people, her openness to new experiences, her commitment to authenticity, or her Christian faith. And now she's inspiring me even more by combining all of those traits and taking an eight-month trek around the world. I was lucky enough to have lunch with Allison a couple of weeks ago in Atlanta and asked if she'd be willing to share some of her experiences halfway through her journey. I hope you appreciate her reflections as much as I did! (She's a really good writer, too.) Check out Allison's route here, and her blog here.

Ever since I've known you (nearly 10 years!), you've seemed to be an adventurer. Do you remember what first made you love travel? 

Well first of all, crazy that we've known each other ten years. That is wild!

In many ways, I feel like I was born to travel. While I was growing up, my dad was launching MBA programs around the world - in Barcelona, Singapore, London, and now Hong Kong (where my parents currently live). Because of his frequent travel, my sister and I were able to see a lot of incredible places, even when we were very young.

I've loved traveling, exploring and adventuring for as long as I can remember - for so many reasons. People. Food. Mountains. Oceans. I love it all. My first trip without my family was a service trip to Reynosa, Mexico when I was 15. I remember that trip distinctly because it made me not only fall more in love with travel, but it also made me fall in love with the developing world, which then shaped my subsequent education and career. I think travel does that - it challenges what we know, shapes who we are becoming and points us in new directions.

You got your MBA at Johns Hopkins and then went to work at Opportunity International in your hometown of Chicago. What is OI, and what type of work did you do with them? Did that increase your love of travel/adventure? 

Opportunity International is a global non-profit organization that addresses many of the big challenges facing those living in extreme poverty - hunger, economic stability, education, health, sanitation, water, job creation - by empowering entrepreneurs and providing financial tools and training. In buzzword language, Opportunity is a microfinance organization - it provides loans, savings, insurance and training to people usually earning less than about $2 a day. With these financial resources, people (usually women) are able to start businesses, create jobs, send their kids to school, provide for their families and transform their communities. And best of all, they pay back the loans so that the whole system is sustainable and can continue to impact more lives. 

Over my nearly four years there, I served in a number of different roles. I managed a nationwide network of volunteers between the ages of 22 and 35 that raised support and awareness for Opportunity (a program called Young Ambassadors for Opportunity - it's super awesome and if you have a chapter in your city, you should totally get involved!). I built online fundraising campaigns. By the time I left Opportunity in December, I was creating or overseeing most of the web content - blog, social media, website, emails, etc. and working on mass fundraising strategy. 

My desire to work at Opportunity came out of my existing love of the developing world. And by working there, I fell more in love with the developing world. It's a dangerous cycle! I was lucky to get to travel all around the U.S. meeting with my volunteers, as well as to Uganda. And I think it's pretty hard to go to East Africa and not fall in love with it! 

What first gave you the idea to travel around the world? 

Allison and me in late 2010, not long after we graduated from college.

I can actually remember this pretty vividly. It was my junior year of college at Davidson, and I had just returned from a semester abroad in Ecuador. I was having a lot of reverse culture shock and trouble readjusting to life in the U.S., so I was spending a bunch of time researching various travel options online. I read about programs like the World Race, and actually started an application, but it didn't feel like exactly the right fit. 

At one point in my research, I learned about Around the World (RTW) plane tickets. The two major airline networks (One World/American and Star Alliance/United) sell RTW tickets that allow you to string together a series of destinations to circumnavigate the globe. And while I didn't end up using an RTW, that moment was like a light bulb - it was the point where I thought, "Oh! This is a thing! People do this!" Of course, at the time, I was 20 and in college and had no money, but it planted a seed that thankfully waited patiently until I could actually do something about it.

How did you map out your route?

Well, for starters, I spent a good six months (or realistically, seven years) dreaming about the places I'd like to visit. I always keep a mental list of the top ten countries I'd like to see, so those provided a helpful starting point. From there, I tried to string together regions and routes that made sense - and that were easy to get to and from. I had probably three years' worth of travel on the original list, so it took some serious editing to get it down to a list that seemed doable in seven months. 

I had an actual paper map that I used, trying to create a path that seemed realistic. And then I spent a lot of time on Kayak, Expedia, Skyscanner, and eventually with an RTW specialist at Airtreks to nail everything down.

There were a few surprise benefits to the route I chose, too - the biggest of which is that I'm in summer, or summer-ish, weather for the entire year!

You've just started the second half of your trip, most recently arriving in South Africa. Where have you been so far, and what have been your top two or three places/experiences? 

I started the trip in South America in January, with stops in Colombia, Chile, Argentina and Peru. I then headed west, traveling to New Zealand and Australia, before spending the last two months in Asia. I made it to Malaysia, the Philippines, Singapore, Hong Kong, Taiwan, Japan, China and South Korea. I stopped in Atlanta last weekend (where I saw you!) for my cousin's wedding, and now I'm in South Africa. I go from here to Kenya, UAE, Greece and Croatia, then work my way through Europe for a couple months. I'm ending the trip in Scandanavia - Norway, Sweden and Iceland. 

The two of us just a couple of weeks ago, reunited in Atlanta for a lunch.

Choosing favorites is so hard, but I'll try to pick a couple of stand-outs so far. 

My mom met me in New Zealand and we did a road trip up the west coast of the South Island - that was incredible. It's natural beauty unlike anywhere else - every time you turn a corner, you want to stop and take a photo because it is more even more beautiful than before. And that just keeps happening for miles and miles. 

In Japan, I had opportunity to go to Nagano to meet a novice wine maker who is planting his first vineyard. I spent the day learning to plant wine grapes and having pop music singalongs with a couple of high schoolers who were also there helping out. It was one of those moments when you look around and think, "How is this my life? How did I get here?" 

I spent two weeks in the Philippines with an organization called International Care Ministries (ICM), learning more about their work and providing some input on storytelling to their team. On our last day, my friend Haley and I asked if we could go to a slum community and just hang out since we had finished our respective work assignments. Our translator and driver brought us to this seaside community built on stilts and garbage and we spent the day playing with kids and learning about their lives. I was dripping sweat, ankle deep in trash, and overwhelmingly happy. I've been to a lot of outwardly broken places, and every time I'm struck by how much joy I find. How much love and hope and fun. This day was no different - and was one of my favorites of the trip so far. 

Craziest travel transportation story so far? 

Oh gosh. I have two. 

In the Philippines, I was supposed to take a bus from Dumaguete to Bacolod - one side of an island to another. There are two kinds of buses - air conditioned and regular. The aircon buses are nice and fast and easy. But when I arrived at the bus station, the next aircon bus didn't leave for several hours. I was feeling brave, so I opted for the regular bus as long as I could get a window seat. I settled in, and for the next seven hours, I got a full picture of the filipino countryside with my head out of a bus window. My seatmates changed frequently as commuters got on and off, and at one point I looked over and the man next to me had a plastic two liter bottle with him. It looked like it was full of dirt or something. My first thought (sadly) was drugs, but upon looking closer, I realized it was a turtle. In a dirty plastic bottle. And my seat neighbor just stuck the whole thing in his backpack and walked off the bus. I was cracking up. 

My other transportation story is from Chile and Argentina. My friend Melanie was with me and we decided to take the night bus from one country to another to save time and money for a night of lodging. All was going well - we were settled into out seats, Melanie had taken a sleeping pill and we were comfortably resting. Then, at 2 in the morning, we stopped. We hadn't thought about the fact that we were crossing a national border and therefore had to pass through immigration and customs. The drivers woke everyone up, corralled us off the bus, and made us stand in line outside. Melanie was under the fog of melatonin so she was not having it, and both of us were totally confused. I'm pretty fluent in Spanish, but at this moment, we were lost. I kept looking around thinking, "Can someone please explain this to me?!" We didn't know where to go or what to do. At one point they pulled off all of the bags (for customs) and we didn't see ours. This led to another round of, "Please, anyone, what is going on?!" And at 3 in the morning in a non-native language, those conversations go really well. After a couple of hours, everyone made it through, we reloaded the bus and continued on our way. And yes, our bags made it too.

Craziest on-the-ground story so far?

Every day is crazy! 

I've had a lot of really incredible experiences simply by showing up and being willing to try new things. I taught a class on compulsory savings under a big tree on the side of the road in rural Philippines. I befriended a up-and-coming tour guide in Cusco and we spent the next few days driving all over the Peruvian mountains. I went paragliding in Argentina, lucked out with the best day ever at the Great Wall of China, and snorkled on the Great Barrier Reef. I took my mom black water rafting the Waitomo glowworm caves, and I decided to free-climb a waterfall because I thought that I could. I've done occupational therapy with special needs kids in an orphanage and fundraising consulting for several incredible organizations. Just today I spoke to a group of high school missionary kids in Kenya about what college is like in the States. 

Every day is something new. Sometimes it's hard, but it's always awesome. 

I look forward to reading your blog reflections, because you always seem able to connect your adventure across the world with a life lesson or truth that I need to hear back at home (for example, your post on walls when you were at the Great Wall). How has blogging (and Instagram, for that matter) helped you process your experience? 

Writing my blog (however infrequently) has been so good for me. When I started, I wasn't sure what it was going to look like. The most successful travel blogs (and the ones that I use as resources) are the ones that are more how-to guide than anything else. "How to Plan a Trip to Machu Picchu," "The Five Best Meals in Lima," things like that. I realized pretty early on that I could write these entries any time - even a year from now when I'm back home. I have the information about how I planned things, and I have notes on almost everything, so they would just need to be turned into posts. I hope I have the discipline to do it! 

So instead of writing these types of entries, I started writing more personal reactions to the experiences I was having. These are the thoughts that I won't be able to recall months or years from now unless I document them. They are physical manifestations of my mental processing. One of the hardest parts of a solo world trip is that you don't have anyone with whom to share the experience. The blog has become an attempt to get some of my stories out there, so that at least I have a conversation starting point with friends that are at home. 

And Instagram has been the biggest surprise of all. I had dreams of blogging regularly, but quickly realized that there just isn't enough time in the day to both experience an exciting life and write about one. So instead, I committed to posting a photo a day (as internet connectivity allows) on Instagram. It's been so fun to highlight the things I'm seeing, and I've taken to writing some of my thoughts in the captions. It lets me share snippets of my story, plus I suppose it lets everyone know I'm alive and well! 

Your Christian faith is a hugely important part of who you are, and I know that plays into everything you do, but I imagine that it must deeply impact your travels, even if only internally (and maybe externally, too!). Can you share how your faith shows up on this journey? Has it changed in any noticeable way? 

My faith is pretty central to everything about me. I could rattle on for ages about what I believe and why, but really everything boils down to the most important commandments: loving God and loving people. What I have found is that it’s really really hard to love someone you don’t know. You have no point of reference, and therefore it makes it nearly impossible to actually care. And it’s really hard to know people if you’ve never met them. So for me, travel has become a way to better know the world so that I can better love the world. That’s what it’s all about.

I was actually just talking to a new friend the other night about what the trip has done to my faith. When I get in a routine (especially a good routine) like the one I was in before I left, I start to think that I have things figured out. This trip has been instrumental in taking the jar of my life and shaking it up – opening my eyes to new perspectives, challenging my assumptions, breaking my heart. Faith isn’t stagnant, so it’s given me the opportunity to learn and grow and redefine what I believe and why. And it’s interesting – the more I learn, the more I realize how little I know. It’s taught me to shut my mouth and listen, realizing that I don’t have all the answers and that I can learn so much from people who have been following God through such different circumstances.

And of course, the church is universal and Jesus is alive and at work everywhere. So one amazing part of travel, but really all relationship building, is that you meet other people in completely different circumstances who are loving and praising the same God you are. Sitting in church in the Philippines or South Africa or Peru – the buildings look different, but the God is the same. It’s awesome to get to be a part of worship (formal or informal) around the world.

I guess the last thing I would say is that my personal faith has been hugely important to me internally. Traveling solo gets super lonely, so prayer has shown up in a new and very real way for me. I also started re-reading the Bible all the way through when I began my trip, so that’s been a great routine for me too, especially during a time when most of my routines have been thrown out the window. And Jesus and I have a lot of long conversations when I’m feeling nervous or in danger or sick. We’ve gotten pretty chatty these days.

On a similar note, you've done some service work during your trip. Talk a little bit about your desire to serve while seeing the world, and what organization(s) you've worked with.  

Allison with some of her favorite folks in the Philippines.

I think an important starting point is my philosophy on service.

I built a career in nonprofit, I sit on the planning team of a service organization for students (Son Servants, part of Youth Conference Ministries), and I’m generally obsessed with getting people, particularly people in the church, to live out their faith by loving and serving people in their communities and around the world. It’s fair to say that service – particularly international service – has become my thing.

But, I also think it’s really easy for Americans (or Westerners or wealthy, well-educated people) to think that we have all the answers. The danger in that is that when you travel (ESPECIALLY if you are traveling specifically to “serve”), you automatically assume that you are going to help. That you are the one bringing the good stuff with you, and dropping it off in these destitute, needy places.

I think that’s crazy, and honestly dangerous.

I can say with complete confidence that I have learned and received far more than I have given, even when visiting some of the most challenging and broken parts of the world. Everyone has something to offer, and I think that recognizing the innate capacity of people (all people) is where you have to start, no matter what.

Okay, now I’ll get off my soapbox and actually answer your question – yes, I have done some service-related work while I’ve been traveling. But because of my aforementioned philosophy, I’m careful about who I work with and how I work with them.

There are NGOs doing incredible work all over the place. I tend to choose those that have permanent, on-the-ground staff serving particular communities. I don’t want to come in and leave – a blonde-haired, blue-eyed flash that is pointless at best and harmful at worst. I’d rather lend whatever support I can to people who are actually doing the hard work – the work of building relationships and discovering needs and loving people for the long haul. That’s the good stuff.

With regard to the work that I’ve been doing, I’ve been trying to use my professional expertise to lend a hand when I can. And I try to not do work that local folks could do instead (might as well create a job and pay someone, right?). Most of all, I’ve been trying to learn about these awesome people and projects. Because my career has been built in nonprofit storytelling and fundraising, I’ve done a few consulting-type projects for organizations who want to rethink their communication strategies and try out some new fundraising tactics, and a few hands-on writing projects for others. It’s been so fun to brainstorm with the local teams and figure out how to best communicate the amazing work they are doing so that more people like you can hear about them!

To that end (and yes, this is a shameless plug), here are some of the great organizations I’ve partnered with or visited so far:

I continue to write for Opportunity International, a microfinance organization empowering women entrepreneurs in 24 countries around the world.

I visited and saw some of the incredible community development work that Camino de Vida is doing in Lima, Peru, including a visit to Padre Martinho orphanage that works with children with special needs.

I spent two weeks in the Philippines with International Care Ministries (ICM), an organization that runs an incredibly comprehensive community development program, including education, business development, health and sanitation and spiritual growth.

My friends in South Africa run an awesome ministry called Ubuntu Football Academy, which uses soccer as a way to reach young boys in local townships. Through athletics, they help the boys finish high school, and learn valuable life skills – and they learn about Jesus and benefit from adult role models. I spent a week hanging out with the boys and I LOVE the work they are doing!

Also while in South Africa, my friend Cathy took me to visit Ikhaya Lethemba in the Imazami Yethu township. This “after-care” facility provides a safe place to local kids, many of whom are the heads of their households after being orphaned by AIDS. The center offers homework help, life skills training and much-needed encouragement. I got to meet a handful of the original students who have just graduated form high school. They are now back learning to bake bread and planning to open their own bakery!

I know that answer was insanely long, but this is the kind of stuff I love!

You'll finish up your trip in August and plan to return to Chicago. What are you most nervous about, and what are you most excited about in terms of that transition?

The thing people don’t tell you about travel – especially travel to the developing world – is that coming home is horrible. And this is coming from someone who loves home. I have an incredible tribe of friends that I miss so much and cannot wait to see – they are what I’m most excited for, no doubt. But I also know that I have a lot of trouble with reverse culture shock.

It’s not so much the “whoa, we have so many types of cereal in our grocery store” shock anymore – I’ve come and gone enough to know that that is just part of the deal.

I think part of the struggle is that it is impossible to explain my experiences to anyone. I try, by writing and posting and sharing stories as I go, but the truth of it is that I’m going to go home and very few people will want to sit and listen to me rattle on about the trip. They’ll want the sound bites – and rightfully so. It’s just too much to communicate. And so you sit there having experienced something so life-changing and having to process it solo. It’s a really tough thing.

The other hard thing for me is that life is so different on the road. Every single day is an adventure and new and crazy. Home is wonderful and routine has its own amazing merits, but for me, switching from one to the other is like throwing a car into park while it’s still moving. It’s disorienting and can hurt.

Because I know this about myself, I’ve been trying to be more intentional this time around in identifying practices that I want to carry home with me. For example, I’ve loved meeting and actually talking with people (as opposed to pleasantries), so I want to get coffee or lunch with someone every week at home. Things like that. I’m hoping they’ll help the transition go more smoothly.

And I guess the last important thing about the home transition is that I’m currently working on a new, exciting adventure that will hopefully start taking shape right around when I return to Chicago this summer. I don’t have details to share yet, but having a new project is making the thought of going home really exciting in its own right! 

And now something really important: Best/worst/weirdest food experience.

Mmmm food. I’ve been doing a lot of that. Important fact #1 – I eat ice cream everywhere and it’s all good.

Best? I mean, ramen in Japan is insane, peking duck in Beijing, senagong in the Philippines, lomo saltado in Peru. All the local star dishes have been amazing. But I’ll choose something more random. My friend Melanie and I were exploring Santiago, Chile and I don’t know if we were really hungry or what, but we found this place called Buffalo Waffle and fell in love. It’s a little store front and they serve savory waffles – waffles filled with chicken and cheese and garlic sauce, stuff like that. And whoa. I can’t even explain it. We were in heaven. We actually went back again a few hours later for round two.

I don’t think I really have a worst, though eating Korean BBQ alone was a low point and hilarious because everyone in the restaurant felt bad for me. I didn’t even care, the food was so good.

Weirdest on this trip is definitely bird’s nest, which is a Taiwanese delicacy made from congealed bird saliva. It’s served as these cold little strings and it comes in a dish of almond milk. It actually tastes okay, but I couldn’t get past my mind knowing what it was. I had a brief moment in the Philippines where I thought I was going to have to eat balut (duck fetus still in the egg), but thankfully, I got out of that one!

Thanks so much to Allison for diving into these questions in the midst of the Africa portion of her journey. Check out her ongoing adventures at koosertravels.com!