Packing

As I approach the departure date of our grand tour of Europe I have begun to contemplate the packing that I will do for this trip.  I say contemplate because despite all of my good intentions I never get my packing done until about three hours before the flight.  Packing is overwhelming.  It has so many emotions that accompany it; so many decisions to make.  You can pack too much, too little, forget things, and bring things you won’t need.  Should you bring the travel size toiletries or put your regular sized liquids into smaller containers?  Like I said, packing involves a lot of decision making and there is no turning back once you leave for that trip.  Half the time I just end up throwing whatever will fit into my suitcase and then sitting on top of it while I try to zip it shut. 

I really do want to travel light, but I always end up with way too much stuff.  I was looking at the Rick Steves travel site today and his main suggestion was to pack light and bring very basic items.  He suggests bringing a few pairs of pants, a few shirts, two pairs of shoes and he wants us to pack it all into a carry on.  While I have a deep appreciation of the work of Rick Steeves, I think he just doesn’t understand my situation.  My packing list includes a few more necessities such as makeup, hair dryer, flat iron, hair products, perfume, shoes (casual, sporty, heels, sandals, flip flops), clothes (for every possible occasion) all packed into a large bulky suitcase that will most definitely be checked at exactly the maximum allowed weight of 50 pounds.  I don’t want to be the girl with a million suitcases, and carry-ons, and “personal items” in the airport but many of these are necessities that a girl just can’t leave behind. 

I do always think about what real necessities are and what luxuries are when I pack and somehow luxury items become necessities and I end up cursing myself the entire duration of the trip as I lug all of my junk around hotels and airports. 

My goal for this upcoming trip is to travel easy and relaxed.  I don’t want to end up with a hernia because my suitcase was so heavy.  I am going to try my best to travel with only the necessities and remember that I am going to be in the presence of some of the most important historical sites in the world.  I will be organized but not go overboard with that either which is a whole other issue.  All of the gadgets on the market today that are designed to make traveling easier really seem to complicate the process even more. 

I’m going to find a happy medium between that of Mr. Steeves and my own philosophies about packing in order to worry less about what’s in my suitcase and more about all of the great experiences that I’m going to have in Europe with my family.   

Saying goodbye.

Saying goodbye. 

I spent my whole life living in Texas until my 33^rd year.  I had traveled around the world a bit but Texas had always been home.  I always knew I would leave one day I just didn't know when or where I would go.  It was a bitterly cold day in February when I left everything in Texas to move to another country. 

After being laid off in 2011 my husband went back to school to get his MBA.  Upon graduating from the program he was offered the opportunity of a lifetime in his native country of Colombia.  I don’t think we ever thought that we would actually live in Colombia, nor did we think that such an opportunity would present itself there.  However, the opportunity was just too good to pass up for my husband’s career and for our family. 

Once a formal offer was made and things were set in motion the whole process was quite surreal.  I had so many questions, many of which I had to just guess the answers to because I had zero experience with relocating to a foreign country.  What would we do with our house?  All of our stuff?  How would we move our things from the U.S. to Colombia?  What would we do with our dogs?  I began packing up our home box by box.  My husband went to Colombia ahead of us to get started on his new job so I was home packing with a two year old and a newborn baby in tow.  I had so many emotions.  I was so excited, and nervous and terrified all at the same time.  I remember that I kept thinking, “Are we really leaving?  Is this really happening?” 

Moving day grew closer and closer and then it finally came.  The day before we were to take a flight with our two children and two dogs to Colombia our friends from church came to help us move just about everything we owned into a storage unit.  It is outrageously expensive to ship your things overseas so we determined that we could take 4 suitcases and two large boxes with us to Colombia.  That’s it; our whole lives were in those suitcases.  We took only the necessities which consisted of clothes, a few household items and toys for the kids. 

That night after we had moved everything out of our house we had only a mattress left in the house to sleep on that night.  The house was so empty.  We had only lived in the house for four years but it already had so many memories in it.  We brought both of our children home from the hospital as newborns to that house.  There was so much laughter echoing from the now empty walls of that house. 

The weather was terrible the next day; I thought they might cancel our flight.  There were a series of mix-ups and delays at the airport but after several hours we finally boarded our flight for Bogota, Colombia.  I didn't know when I would see Texas again.  I felt like I was leaving a piece of myself there.  We were moving on to bigger things and new adventures but Texas would always be my real home no matter where I roamed.  I don’t know if I will ever live there again, but a big piece of my heart will always remain there.  

Downtime, that's a funny one!

When I was young and single I could take a break anytime I wanted.  I had all the downtime I wanted, needed, deserved.  After a long day of working or studying I could come home, kick off my shoes and nap to my heart’s desire.  I love to nap; it’s one of my favorite activities.  When I was sick, I could just be sick.  I could lay around in my jammies and watch TV until I was fully recovered.  Those were the glory days.  These days when I’m sick or just tired none of these luxuries are allowed.  Naps no longer exist in my world and being sick is just not an option because I have two small children that just don’t understand when mommy is sick.  No one ever told me that this would be my new reality before these little munchkins came along.  I thought having children was all kisses and ice cream. 

I’ve been sick with a cold for a couple of days and caring for my two children combined with not being allowed to lie on my deathbed and wallow in my sickly misery has not been the highlight of my week.  Last night the kids and I were waiting for my husband to get home from work so he could take over the kid responsibilities the scene was a stressful one.  I was lying on the couch begging the kids to just leave me alone, my two year old was sitting on top of me smashing my boob and my 10 month old was hanging from my arm dangling from the couch.  We all jumped up and mauled him when he walked in the door; we always do this.  The poor guy can barely get one foot in the door before we all prance on him.  I went to bed early and as usual my two year old daughter ended up in bed with us.  She kept me up most of the night with her feet kicking me in the face and her wining every 30 minutes. 

I still didn’t feel so hot today but my husband and I still went on our regular Wednesday night movie date.  The only way to relax when I’m sick is to get out of the house because the kids just won’t let me.  So we saw a movie, we laughed, we relaxed without any small people sitting on top of us. 

If anyone had told me a few years ago that having children would mean never having a free moment to myself, sleepless nights and no real downtime it might have been a deal breaker for me.  I probably would have gone on to enjoy my selfish life and never would have looked back.  Tonight when I got home from the movies my daughter was still awake and for some reason I let her stay up a little later than usual.  We watched TV and snuggled and talked on the couch.  She’s only two but we had the best conversation.  I was having so much fun I didn’t want to put her to bed.  When I finally did tuck her into bed (She wanted to sleep in my bed so I folded and let her.) she said hers prayers in the sweetest little voice that made my heart melt.  I’m really glad no one told me that having kids would turn my world upside down because little moments like the time spent with my daughter tonight are enough to fill my heart up forever.  

Mind your manners, please.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about manners, specifically how people don’t mind their manners.  Now I’m not the type of person that would usually harp on this but it’s been getting to me lately, especially when people talk politics on social media.  I usually don’t engage in political debates via social media, I usually just keep scrolling because I just don’t want to get into it with someone who is never going to agree with me.  In my twenties I would argued until I was blue in the face but in my thirties I’ve found that I just don’t have the time or energy to waste on such debacles.  It’s bothered me lately though that people are just downright rude when it comes to politics.  Instead of disagreeing respectfully they say atrocious things and partake in spreading outright lies across the internet.  Many people take anything written on the internet to be the gospel and don’t do their due diligence to at least find out if what is being said is true and they simply react to the latest rumors. 

Case in point:  I was recently perusing Facebook when I saw an awful picture of several men holding a badly burned body.  It was posted by a friend of mine who I love dearly but know that we will never agree on politics.  The caption under the picture said something to the effect of, “Chris Stevens was raped, electrocuted and burned.  Hillary you suck.”  The photo alone was quite disturbing but the caption forced me to stop and say, “Wait a minute, did this actually happen?” 

A little background if you are not familiar with who Chris Stevens was.  Chris Stevens was the U.S. Ambassador to Libya from 2011 to 2012; just after Gaddafi was ousted from his 42 year presidency.  On September 11, 2012 American compounds in Benghazi, Libya were attacked by militants and when it was all over Ambassador Stevens was found dead.  This was a tragedy of the highest degree, it saddens me just thinking about it.  Stevens died of smoke inhalation while trapped in a safe room.  The attacking militants used diesel gasoline to set the compound on fire and Stevens was trapped in the safe room unable to escape for air. 

The death of Ambassador Stevens was immediately used as political fodder to criticize the Obama administration.  Political commentator Sean Hannity said that Stevens was raped and his body dragged through the streets.  This was untrue and extremely hurtful to Stevens’ family and friends. 

This brings me back to the initial Facebook post.  After doing some research I found that it was simply not true.  As I said before, Ambassador Stevens died of smoke inhalation.  I found that one person, Sean Hannity, started the rumor that the life of Ambassador Stevens ended in a manner contrary to the truth.  This rumor has spread like wildfire across the internet, because let’s face it, it’s more tragic and that’s what we like.  For some reason human beings like the saddest, most gruesome stories rather than the plain old boring truth (which by the way is just as tragic).  I did my due diligence and found the truth; other people may not take the time to do this.  When discussing anything on the internet I beg of you to please remember what your mama taught you and mind your manners.  The Facebook post about Ambassador Stevens is disgusting and I’m sure his family has been exposed to it at some time which forces them to relive their tragedy all over again based on something that is not even true. 

So I say disagree, criticize, argue all day long if you like!  That is the American way, but mind your manners when doing so.  

Garcia Euro Vacation

We are going to Europe next week!  My family and I will be visiting Switzerland, Italy, France and Spain.  This is exciting and terrifying at the same time.  My husband will be leaving a few days ahead of us and I will be flying with two small children by myself from Bogota, Colombia to Geneva, Switzerland.  Yes, you heard that right.  I’ll be on a transatlantic flight for approximately 11 hours with a 2 ½ year old and a 10 month old.  I see lots of Benadryl in these kids’ future if you catch my drift.  This will definitely be a most interesting trip to Europe being that it is with two small children.  I’m sure our itinerary will be a bit different as we will be looking for things for the kids to enjoy.   I’m thinking the Louvre is not at the top of my toddler’s list.  Nonetheless it will be an experience that the whole family will never forget. 

In preparing for this trip I’m reminded of the first time I went to Europe way back in 2002.  I was in college and the Russian professor on campus was offering a trip to Eastern Europe and it was cheaper than any of the other study abroad options so I went.  The plan was to go to Hungary, Russia and Estonia.  I knew very little about this region of the world but I was ready and willing to travel anywhere. 

So off I went on a plane to Budapest.  On the plane ride there the flight attendant offered me a cognac which I happily obliged.  In college anytime someone offered you free booze you never turned it down.  It came in a charming little cup, almost the size of those shot glasses you get in Cancun on spring break; so I downed it all at once.  This was a big mistake.  I spent the rest of the flight in the bathroom puking my guts out.  Apparently cognac is to be sipped not chugged. 

In my cognac induced stupor I finally made it to Budapest where I spent two glorious weeks with the kooky Hungarians.  When our time was up in Hungary we boarded a train bound for Moscow.  When the train pulled into the station I was taken aback.  It had to be at least 60 years old.  In its Soviet heyday it might have been the crown jewel of trains but it looked and sounded like it was on its last leg.  The trip in these lovely accommodations would last about two days.  Everyone in the group was dreading the trip, but we got lucky after about 16 hours on the train. 

When we crossed the Ukrainian border the train was stopped by their equivalent of the border patrol.  The agents boarded the train and started asking for passports.  When they got to our room I gave them my passport, they took a look and slammed the door.  I tried to open the door but discovered it was locked from the outside.  I started freaking out a little bit.  About 20 minutes later they came back and motioned for us to get our things and come with them.  I was terrified of what would happen next since I didn’t speak Ukrainian and had no idea what was going on.  The female agent had purple hair though so I knew they weren’t going to kill me.  Anybody that has purple hair surely wouldn’t do anything too terrible.  They took us into the train depot and had us wait for what seemed like an eternity.  They told us that we would not be able to continue on through Ukraine to Russia because we did not have transit visas, we would have to wait for the next train back to Hungary.  We waited all day and all night.  Finally, around 5am a train rolled in bound for Hungary.  We didn’t have reservations so would have to grab any available seats as quickly as possible, first come first serve.  Apparently we weren’t the only ones without reservations though because when we went to the doors there was a group of about 100 people waiting and the doors were chained.  As soon as the train arrived the doors were unlocked and this group of Ukrainians and Americans was unleashed.   It was like a scene out of Doctor Zhivago.  Little old ladies with scarf covered heads and baskets ran like hell for the train pushing and kicking anyone in their way.  Luckily these stout old ladies didn’t knock me out and I got a seat on the train. 

We ended up flying to Russia and having many more kooky adventures.  Based on my last European experience I’m wondering how this next one will go.  I have a feeling it will be a bit like the Griswald European Vacation, nothing run of the mill for me and my family!  

Taking a break.

I’ve been writing 500 words a day now for 10 days straight and it feels good, really good to have written so much new material.  Today I started feeling like I was running out of things to write about though. Now I know that after only 10 days of writing, after not writing this much in years, it is impossible to have run out of things to say.  Nonetheless, I decided that I would take a break from writing today, but then I decided to write about taking a break from writing.  So I guess that’s progress, the fact that I still want to write even though I just don’t feel like it. 

I am an all or nothing kind of gal, that’s just the way I’m wired.  It’s always been 100% carpe diem or absolutely sloth level nothingness for me.  I am a woman of extremes.  I’ve never been big on taking breaks because I know this about myself.  I know that if I slow down I will lose momentum and it will be like moving the earth to get myself fired up again.  Break taking is good though, it gives one time to reflect about what’s next, execution of goals, etc.  However, I know that I work best under pressure, in the heat of the moment.  I constantly have this voice in my head screaming, “Breaks are for sissies!”  So I keep pushing, keep running, and keep writing. 

One of the problems with this non break taking attitude is that one can often get burnt out and come to a slow, grinding halt never to be heard from again.  Who takes breaks anyway?  Presidents don’t take breaks, they have countries to run.  Criminals don’t take breaks, they have things to steal. 

Procrastination is another thing though, procrastination I can do.  Procrastination may fool you into thinking that you are taking a break but what you are really doing is wasting a whole lot of energy not being productive, thus not taking a break.  I’m a great procrastinator, and when I procrastinate I do everything but work towards my objectives and spend a lot of time thinking about what I’m not doing.  I hate procrastination; it builds up a sort anxiety inside of me until I almost cannot breathe.  I do it all the time and I do it so well but it is not my favorite activity. 

By writing this little essay I feel like I’m rising above my sloth level and at the same time not procrastinating, and not overdoing things either.  This is a happy medium for me however backwards it may be.  Hopefully tomorrow I will wake up with tons of brilliant ideas for writing projects.  Perhaps I will do something spectacular tomorrow, because today I was just mediocre.  Who knows what the world has in store for me tomorrow?  Maybe I will begin my Pulitzer Prize winning novel or maybe I will write an amazing grocery shopping list, who knows?  We shall see.  

My heart might explode.

Do you ever have those moments where you feel like your heart is going to explode and you might begin to cry like a blubbering idiot at any moment?  I have had a lot of those moments lately and I’m not exactly sure why.  It’s like a feeling of gratitude, and hope, and despair, and happiness and anguish all at once.  It makes me feel like I have an atomic bomb of emotions sitting inside my chest that might go off at any minute. 

I had one of those atomic bomb moments tonight.  I attended a church event tonight where a soldier from the Colombian army gave a short speech.  As he spoke, I felt all of these emotions building inside of me and I started to cry.  The soldier speaking had both arms amputated at the elbows and a glass eye.  He said that he was so grateful that God gave him a second chance at life, and that he was so happy to live in a safe Colombia.  The young man also said he was grateful not to have to invest in wristwatches anymore and that he loved hearing our applause because he cannot hear his own.  This guy didn’t choose this life (military service is compulsory in Colombia) but he is going forward with it full speed ahead. 

Unfortunately you see men like this all over Colombia.  You would be hard pressed to go even one day without seeing a soldier missing a limb.  It is shocking at first, the number of young amputees that you see in Colombia.  They are everywhere and the reason is the high number of landmines in Colombia.  Members of the Colombian army are often maimed as a result of the landmines planted by the FARC, ELN and various paramilitary groups.  The ongoing conflict between these groups and the Colombian government has led to 65% of the country being affected by landmines and nearly 10,000 Colombians have been victims since 1990.  The situation in the country has drastically improved over the last several years but decades of war have left the country full of landmines that now need to be demined. 

I was so touched by the soldier that spoke and he made me feel grateful; grateful for his service to his country and for the service of all military personnel around the world.  Evil people are everywhere; the FARC in Colombia, ISIS in Syria, etc. and these people are literally giving life and limb to thwart them so that we can enjoy our lives and all of the beauty that a free life has to offer.  There was something so beautiful about his gratitude in spite of the disability that he has been left with. 

I think the reason that my heart almost exploded was because the gratitude and happiness of the soldier was contagious; it spilled over into my heart.  I hope that someday my outlook on life can be that influential on others but right now I will just settle for being happy.