en la cocina and calle de cocteles

On Wednesday last week, Verenice, our Spanish teacher at the school, came over to the cabañas to give us a cooking lesson. We made a traditional ecuadorian dinner — camarones sopa (shrimp soup), with a peanut-based broth and plantain “meatballs”.

The pictures below speak for themselves, but the group of us had a blast preparing all of the fresh food. I’d never shredded plantains before — they looked like a strange plate of scrambled eggs, or some sort of mushy shredded cheese — but they tasted delicious mixed with spices, a special spiced oil, and fresh cilantro. We shaped the mixture into balls, then them cooked right in the soup broth.

Verenice blended the peanut paste (peanut butter is apparently expensive and hard to obtain in Ecuador) with water in a blender to make it thinner and smoother, then put the liquid into a pot of boiling water, flavored with yuca, a white root-like vegetable that could be called an Ecuadorian potato, onion, and garlic. Then we added the plantain balls and our shrimp, plus a ton of spices. After twenty minutes, the soup was done and we dug in.

Verenice served the soup with arroz (rice), which was a perfect compliment. I’m not a huge peanut butter fan, so I could have done without the broth, but I loved all of the contents of the soup, a strange but totally delicious combination.

Arroz is a staple in South America, but especially in Ecuador. A typical plato consists of camaron, pescado (fish), or pollo served with rice and a coleslaw-type salad. In towns like Moñtanita that are right on the water, seafood is the freshest, most delicious option. All along the main road in town are ceviche stands, with men waiting to serve you fresh clams, mussels, shrimp and fish in delicious lemon sauce concoctions.

On Friday night, I experienced the Calle de Cocteles of Moñtanita. One of the main streets of town, and the only one with a name, is lined with dozens of small carts, each boasting bottles and bottles of booze, baskets of fresh fruit and blenders. For as little as $2.50, your personal bartender, who will fist pump with you, kiss your cheeks and personally arrange a plastic chair on the street for you to sit in, will concoct any sort of fruit and alcohol mixture you can dream of.

I didn’t bring my camera out at night, but here is one of the main cocktail stands during the day.

We had maracuya, which is a local passionfruit, blended with rum, topped with a strawberry. Our group sat chatting and watching the wide variety of crazy tourists walk back and forth along the “strip” — a 50 yard section of the street with dance clubs, bars, and alcohol carts that dead ends at the beach.

After drinking on the street (flashbacks to Ho Hai in Beijing where we walked around the streets with beer bottles in our hands) we headed into the Caña Grill, a favorite bar in town where they have a sand floor, $2 mojitos and a live band every night. I don’t typically like to go out and party when I’m traveling alone, and unlike a lot of travelers in SA, partying is far from the reason I’m on the road. But since I’d spent the week getting to know all the other students at the school, and quickly became close with Kathleen, Katarina, and Chloe, I felt comfortable letting loose a bit and going out, especially since it was our last night altogether before many of us went our separate ways.

The number of Ecuadorian men who tried to dance with our group of girls was laughable — as one of the British guys in our group said, there were busloads — but I had a blast getting my salsa on and jamming to some old American pop and RnB. I felt in control and safe the entire time, surrounded by some amazing other world travelers who, like me, were also exercising their new Spanish skills to tell our newfound friends where they were from and what they did in the ‘real world’. We danced the night away, literally, and had a blast.

perdon, una pregunta por favor…

Today in Spanish class, we started talking about construction work in South America — in our small town of Moñtanita there are 3 construction projects outside our school building alone, and the ruckas makes hearing our teachers rather difficult at times.

My teacher, Vernicia, explained that in the Ecuadorian culture, families don’t separate and children don’t move out at a certain age.

*Sidenote: My spanish teachers only speak in Spanish, which is super challenging but amazing for my Spanish skills! We had this entire convo en español, and I only had to ask a few questions to clarify! I am starting to string actual sentences together — instead of just saying “Baño?” (bathroom) with a sad, confused look on my face, I can come up with (on my own!) “Hola! Perdon, una pregunta por favor. Donde esta el baño?” (Hi, one quick question please, where is the bathroom?). It’s a solid start!

Anyways, I learned that instead of moving out, children live with their parents until they get married, at which point their spouse moves in with the family (typically men move with with their new wives families). In this tradition, families stay extremely close knit, helping one another and cooking large meals together, which also saves a chunk of money. When their houses get too small, they add additional rooms and levels, expanding as needed. I realized that I mistook this construction as a sign of wealth and tourism. Instead, it’s a common practice among the majority of Ecuadorian families.

The real thing that shocked, however, me was learning the average income of an Ecuadorian family. Vernicia explained that on average, most families (two parents and two or three kids) survive on approximately $700 a month, which translates to just under $8,500 a year. Of course the Ecuadorian cost of living is drastically lower, and in many cases the family isn’t paying any rent or mortgage, but my jaw dropped at that number regardless. I made more than three times that on my starting salary, and I whined every day about how little I made. My rent last year was $125 more than an entire family lives off of every month in Ecuador.

In some ways, the comparison is unequal. I had a solid roof (not just a piece of tin held down with rocks) and a real wood floor, proper plumbing, electricity and refrigeration  As a US citizen in a large city, I had access to an incomparable number of things Ecuadorian families only dream of. Of course, and partially as a result, the cost of living in the United States is exorbitant in comparison: just the cost of fruits and vegetables alone is a perfect example. Even still, hearing that number was a huge reality check that feeling grateful for what you make on salary as a US citizen with a college degree isn’t something we stop to think about very often.

That being said, the cost of living in Moñtanita is shockingly low. This afternoon, a group of 6 of us ate lunch for $22.50… total. And don’t think we were skimping — we ordered from the “menu del dia” – a choice of pollo, pescado or camaron (chicken, fish or shrimp) soup to start, and either pollo, pescado or camaron as a main entree, served with rice, a small salad and plantains, plus a small glass of soda, all for $3.50. Two of the girls indulged and bought coca colas for $1.50 each, which is pricy, since they usually cost between 50 cents and $1 at a mini market.

Speaking of, the two dozen mini markets throughout town have become my favorite. They sell everything from shampoo to batteries to fresh eggs to granola, and everything (sans the few imported items which stick out like a sore thumb) is crazy cheap. Yesterday, I paid 85 cents for dos bananas, dos naranjas (oranges) y uno pepino (cucumber). The day before, I paid 45 cents for tres huevos (eggs). Our cabañas — the housing for the spanish school — are a 3 minute walk down the road from the school building, which is on the main road in the center of town. The entire town is about 10 blocks wide and 4 blocks deep, dead ending right onto the beach. I love walking into town and wandering through the shops, picking my dinner ingredients as I go.

The only street with a name in the entire town is Avenida de Cocktales — I bet you can guess what that means. The calle’s three blocks are lined with cart after cart, all of which boast baskets of fresh fruit and a dozen or so bottles of booze. Most sell concoctions for between $2 and $3. And we’re not talking a single shot of rum. At the bar last night, drinks were two for $4, and our strawberry daiquiris had four simple ingredients: ice, sugar, strawberries and a lot of rum. It’s no wonder on the first day of class our teacher taught us the term for hangover.

I’m very clearly in a hippie, tourist town, one which deveoloped because of our relatively well known spanish school and because of the European and American tourists who come to booze, lay on the beach and learn to surf the great waves that the town was initially known for. It’s been great living at a relaxed, vacation-paced for a week, but I think by Sunday I’ll be ready to abandon this sleepy town for another ciudad (city).

And here are the pictures I wasn’t able to upload with the surfing entry (I went back to the beach on day 2 but just took pictures of Kathleen and Julia in the water).  It has been overcast our entire week (I literally havent seen the sun once) but I think that may be for the best — considering how strong the sun is here I’m sure I’d fry in an instant. So anyways, thats the reason for the grey sky pictures. Enjoy!

Es oficial: El surf no es para mí

For those of you who speak as little español as I do, that simply means that “it’s official, surfing is not for me.”

My program starts in Moñtanita, a hippie beach town known for it’s amazing surfing. For $75, you can sign up for 5 days of 2-hour surf lessons. Since I signed up for a package traveling classroom deal, I was automatically signed up for a weeks worth of surfing during my week in Moñtanita.

So yesterday, I gave it my best shot. Anyone who knows me (or lets be honest, looks at me for more than 5 seconds) can clearly tell — I am far from athletic. Sure, I hop on the elliptical or treadmill when I drag myself to the gym on rare occasion, and I love my hikes in Runyon Canyon with Amber and Mom, but my upper body strength is very clearly lacking.

Surfing is damn hard work. Those professionals make it look easy as pie — hopping up on their surf board effortlessly, riding the waves like they’re floating on clouds. Well, maybe it doesn’t look that easy, but I never thought about how dang tough it is until I was on the surfboard amidst the waves, barely able to lift my body off the board.

My teacher just laughed when I asked him if I was his worst student, which leads me to believe my joking question wasn’t too far off. I did manage to surf a wave standing on a leg and a knee, after two dozen tries and many, many wipe outs. I hit my tuchas smack on the bottom of the ocean, which – for the record – is not soft despite being made of sand, and I’m convinced I bruised my tailbone. After an hour of digesting too much salt water and too many failed, very pathetic attempts to stand on my board, I lugged the thing to shore and plopped down on the edge of the waves. My teacher dragged me in for another 15 minutes, determined to make me gain concentration. He even made me practice on land with my eyes closed. Despite his noble attempts, I decided I’d given it my all and had had enough.

Lets face it, not everything is for everybody, right? I wish I had video of my sad attempts, I’m sure it would be much better entertainment for all of you, but alas we were all in wetsuits in the ocean, not filming on the beach. Instead, I’m taking my $60 refund and applying it to a refresher scuba diving course. It’s only $85 for 3 dives, including one in the pool to reteach you, so I’m incredibly excited for that.

Spanish classes are long (two hours each, una en la mañana, una en la tarde) but I already feel like my Spanish is improving, and our teachers are really sweet and incredibly helpful. I wish I had vocabulary flashcards (my weakness) but learning some verbs and basic transition words is great for actually forming sentences and questions instead of just two or three words pathetically strung together so a shop owner or waiter can understand me. It’s great taking a language where you can walk out of your classroom and apply it in the outside world, especially since my roommates and housemates are in the same classes.

Off to buy some huevos y vegetales for dinner!

 

4 hours in a bus terminal

This morning, I asked the man working at my hostel when the buses run from Guayaquil out to Montanita, where my Spanish immersion program was starting. He told me every half an hour, so I decided not to worry, but found myself anxious just sitting in my hostel room and I couldn’t fall back asleep, so I decided to pack up and grab a taxi to the terminal.

When I got to the right window to buy my boleta (and yes, I had to ask three times to find the right one), I found out that the last bus left 15 minutes ago… and the next one left at 1 PM. According to my watch it was just past 10 AM, so I decided to suck it up and sit in the terminal — I had my gigantic Dora and didn’t want to shlep it around the city with me for 2 hours of sightseeing, so I grabbed a smoothie for breakfast and sat reading and people watching. At 12:20, I went to the bathroom and on a search to find my bus port (there were 110 bus ports in a gigantic 3 story, mall-like building) only to discover, after a quick glance at a clock on the wall, that it was in fact 11:20 AM and that I’d set my watch wrong. Typical Rachel. I practically laughed out loud at myself, walked into a super market to buy a quick snack, and confirmed with the cashier that it was in fact before noon, not after.

So I spent another hour reading, then got to my bus too early. I met a sweet girl from Alaska named Chloe, who coincidentally was also on my flight down from Miami, and she sat next to me on the bus. We commiserated about how delayed our flight had been (in addition to the 3 hours extra in the airport, we sat on the tarmac for another hour and a half before we took off) and how glad we were to finally be on a bus to our destination. She was looking for Spanish schools once she got to Montanita, so she came to mine and they had a vacancy, so she and I are actually roommates in a six person room. Our third roommate is Bruno, a 26 year old from Denmark, who had been in Columbia for two weeks prior to heading into Ecuador.

The three of us went downtown to check out the beach, find dinner and grab fruit for breakfast tomorrow. And now we’re relaxing with the other dozen or so students at the cabanas — a beautiful open area with a pool, kitchen table and lots of lounge chairs with dozens of hammocks hanging from palm trees and underneath thatch huts. Tomorrow I have a 7 AM wakeup call so I can be at the school for my Spanish placement test at 7:40.

And so it begins!

5 hours in the Miami airport

Not exactly how I dreamed of spending my Saturday evening (my flight is delayed 3 hours), but I’m finally on my way to the southern hemisphere and the Miami airport has free wifi and plenty of outlets, so I can’t complain.

I decided to pull an all nighter last night to guarantee I would sleep during my long day of travel today. A good idea in theory, considering I fell asleep so quickly once I found my emergency exit row seat that I have no recollection of the safety video or even taking off. At bad idea in practice, however, because I was lucky enough to have an antsy and very loud 5 year old child sitting directly behind me. Despite my three specific – and polite – requests for him to stop, which I’ll admit were then followed by several dirty looks directed at his passive mother, he absolutely would not stop kicking my seat. After 3 1/2 hours in and out of restless sleep, I finally gave up and started The Lost Girls.”

I only made it 50 pages into the book, but I already had tears welling in my eyes. I shocked myself.

I know I’m at the very start of my trip, leaving the comforts of home with only a vague idea of what to truly expect over the next 3 months, so its clear my emotions are running high, but I’m surprosed at how teary I am, even as I type this. What is perplexing is that I’m struggling to pinpoint the emotions I’m feeling that are causing the tears. It’s certainly not the upset type of crying. Maybe it’s sadness that my amazing, care-free summer in LA is over, or anxiety about what traveling completely on my own will really entail. Maybe it’s just pure joy, knowing that after all this talking, planning, explaining and rationalizing, I’m finally doing this. Or maybe its simply complete and utter exhaustion, considering I’ve slept less than 5 hours in the last 36 hours.

I wish I could take a picture of it (poor packing/planning, most of my electronic cords are in my checked bag), but my beautiful best friend Laura Mizes got me a bangle with an inspired travel quote embedded in soft, silver metal.

“Wherever you go, go with all your heart”

Such amazing inspiration to wear on my wrist as I embark on this journey. I can’t wait to live up to those words <3

Meet Stella!

My mother isn’t the type to have tchotchkes laying around, however she does have a tendency to get a tiny bit obsessed with things when she suddenly discovers how great they are. Pens, post-it notes, measuring cups, gladware containers, cute pads of paper, the newest lace top/dress trend, chunky jewelry… she just can’t stop at one or two, its got to be ten, or twelve, or twenty five (or in the case of gladware, 250). Please don’t get me wrong, this explanation isn’t meant in any way to be negative. In fact, I’m doomed, genetically and via environment, to turn into my mother, so I tend to get just as obsessed with things. Just look at my packed-to-the-brim storage unit. Really, its an endearing quality, I swear.

Anyways, don’t ask me why, but cute rubber ducks in all shapes and sizes with a myriad of decorations and outfits have made the obsession list, and although we are a clutter-free household, her incredibly random rubber duck collection is currently chillin in the guest (er, my) bathroom.

So the other day, I’m brushing my teeth and staring at all the cute ducks and I have an “aha!” moment. “I bet one of these cute buddies would make a great travel and photography companion!” I said, splattering toothpaste everywhere. So there you have it, the story behind the adoption of Stella.

She’s quite small and simple, with a red tie around her ducky neck, but I’ve become rather attached to her already, and believe she will be great company on extraordinarily long bus rides and during my many hostel sleeps. We’re bound to become great friends, I just know it.

brown paper packages tied up with strings…

Well, they’re more like padded envelopes and cardboard boxes delivered by FedEx, but you know what I mean. Bottom line, I’m starting to get all sorts of fun packages in the mail, which makes me that much more excited for my trip!

A few days ago, my beautiful Deuter Quantum pack came. I did a ton of research and spent lots of time in Sports Chalet trying out packs, and finally settled on this baby, and I think she’s perfect. I have also figured out the perfect name for her: Dora. (Short for Dora the Explorer, clearly.) Fitting, no?

I also got my handy dandy headlamp – hence the photoshoot to your right. I learned my lesson that reading in bed with a flashlight sucks back in 5th grade, but I had since forgotten, and was reminded in reading many world travel blogs that headlights are essential. I also purchased an amazing surge protector strip with two USB cable outlets and a swiveling master wall plug — I’m betting this baby will ensure I make friends with anyone in my hostel rooms. My quick dry (and very thin) travel towel also arrived via Zappos, and though I’m not sure I’m quite psyched about using a fake towel for 3 months, I guess I’ll get used to it!

Still to come is my new (green!) iPod nano, which I got for free with my credit card points — woohoo Capital One!

I’ve done several CVS runs, and slowly but surely whittled down my packing list and raided my Mom’s closet — re-claiming an old sarong of mine to use as a blanket/skirt/beach towel, finding the perfect sized bags to fit all my cosmetics and electronics, and borrowing some t-shirts that will match everything I’m bringing. I can’t believe the countdown is 10 days!o

My last goal is to find a fun object to take on my travels and take pictures of/with at fun spots. My mom has a fun collection of rubber ducks, so I was thinking about those, but I’m open to suggestions — comment and help me brainstorm!

The five things I want to remember

To start, I have stumbled upon two blogs that I’ve found mind-altering and inspiring. Both LegalNomad and The Lost Girls are blogs run by women who picked up their lives to see the world, writing and blogging their way through, making enough money to keep traveling. This is how I want to live my life, as a travel writer, and I haven’t had such career clarity in a long time. It’s time to start working toward that goal. And with that, my five goals.

Taking trips right after one another (or city-hopping all summer, as I did) helps you learn lessons and think about things when you’re traveling that would never occur to you when you’re living in the comforts of home. No matter how much you read on blogs or travel forums, learning those lessons yourself is what truly engrains them in your head.

When I was in South America, I learned more about practicality in travel more quickly than I had imagined I would. No, scratch that, I didn’t imagine it. I didn’t even think twice about the travel lessons I would take home. So now that I’m back in the U.S. and settled but about to jet off again, I’m thinking back to all those things I made mental notes of as I load up my brand new backpacking pack.

With those thoughts swirling in my insomniac brain (between restlessness and anxiety I can’t sleep to save my life – very frustrating!), I’ve decided to make a list of five goals I want to keep over the next 3 months.

Don’t hesitate to talk to strangers. I’m not a shy person. I talk to strangers, I have been known to butt into other peoples conversations, and I’m constantly eavesdropping. But when I was in South America, I think mainly because of the language barrier, I found that I hesitated to approach people or push myself into conversations when I wish I would have. I wish I had jumping pictures of myself in spectacular places — that could have happened if I’d simply asked someone. I day dreamt of joining with other travelers and heading in the same direction that they were — I didn’t have the flexibility to do that on my last trip, but I’m promising myself that I’ll do it on this one. I wish I had more conversations with the people I observed from the outside — I wish I talked to people on my flights and asked too many questions of random strangers. I can’t wait to leave my comfort zone and do that. Furthermore, I want to keep in touch with those people. A family friend told me that getting peoples email addresses, to create a world network of connections, was the most valuable thing he did. I can’t wait to take that advice.

Don’t dress down too much. Simplicity in packing is key, and not standing out too much is also essential, but when you’re constantly dressed in the same grubby t-shirt and jeans, you can just feel downright dirty, even if you just did laundry. In my 6 weeks abroad, I wished I had one piece of jewelry and one nice top to wear with my jeans for the night I went to grab a beer with travelers I met or took myself to dinner at a nicer-than-average joint. So even though I’m committed to sticking to packing less than 10 tops, one of those tops won’t be a plain v-neck.

Don’t blog about every step you take. Simply put, it’s too exhausting to keep up writing like that every night, and no one wants to read 1000 words about every single day. I want to learn to write better catchy headlines, to summarize the less important things more concisely, and to soak in all the details — especially in funny, unique circumstances — as they make for the best narrative.

Stop being a neurotic stress-case. I blame this trait fully on genetics — after a 10 day trip in Montreal with my extended family, I fully understand why I over-worry constantly about every detail. I am a perfect combination of my mother’s OCD and my father’s neurotic pessimism (as my Mom says, between genetics and heredity, you’re screwed). It’s time to let the neurosis go. Your bus is late by 3 hours? Your hostel roommate comes home wasted at 3 am and attempts to have sex on your bed? You discover the hostel you were going to stay at has bed bugs? Getting upset solves nothing. That, of course, is easier said than done, but I’m going to repeat that mantra to myself as often as I can when I find myself in ridiculous situations. I can say without being a pompous ass that I am a capable, intelligent young woman who has apt problem solving skills. I will find a new hostel, take advantage of the downtime to blog or read, and laugh at the lack of sleep knowing it will be a great story. Curve balls are one of travel’s best assets.

Do what you want, when you want, and embrace the seemingly terrible. Why? Because those experiences make the best stories. In all the travel writing I’ve been devouring in the last few weeks, I realize the stories I’m drawn to aren’t the perfect, flawless vacation narratives. They’re the ones with character.

Goodbye closet

Anyone who knows me knows that my walk in closet on Northampton Street was one of my favorite spaces… of all time. And thanks to my, er, excessive nature, it was always kept full, regardless of how many Goodwill donations I made.

Putting my life into storage was hard enough. (Ask my friends who sat with me for hours as I hemmed and hawed about what I had to leave behind) And don’t doubt that I miss every item in that storage unite — every day I look at my sparsly populated closet in my parents house and wish, desperately, that I had this shirt or that dress or another necklace. I am obsessed with my clothing collection, and more than happy to admit it.

But I learned my lesson about overpacking the hard way — bringing too much when you’re moving hostels every other night is a horribly frustrating experience. Sitting on your bag to get it to zip? Not buying a gorgeous souvenir because you can’t fit it in your bag? Cursing your sore back after carrying your bag for a mile because you couldn’t get a taxi? I’ve been there. I’m lucky enough to say I had a test run. Six weeks in South America at the beginning of the summer served me well, and I could make mistakes that I don’t have to make on this coming trip.

But I’m still cringing at the idea of bringing less tops than I have fingers. One site I read even suggested three t-shirts. Three. I think this constitutes as one of the many “first world problems” I call my mother out for complaining about all too frequently, but in a better effort to document my pre-trip thoughts and preparations, I’ve decided to rant anyways. That, and I wanted to put my packing list somewhere where I could be held accountable. So here it is.

Clothing*:

  • 14 pairs of underwear
  • 3 sports bras
  • 3 regular bras
  • 14 pairs of socks
  • 2 pairs of knee high/thick socks
  • 1 pairs of jeans
  • Leggings (1 long, 1 crop)
  • 1 pair of shorts
  • Sweats/yoga pants
  • 3 tank tops
  • 4 tshirts
  • 4 long sleeves
  • Cotton pullover
  • Long skirt
  • 2 dresses
  • Llama sweater
  • Black fleece
  • Windbreaker
  • Scarf
  • Bathing suit

* With a plan to do laundry about every two weeks.

Shoes:

  • Running shoes
  • Flip flops
  • Moccasins
  • Boots? [Do I want these? They’re my only warm option, but they’re big and bulky…]

Cosmetics:

  • Toothbrush
  • Toothpaste
  • Floss
  • Face wash
  • Shampoo
  • Conditioner
  • Body wash
  • Disposable razor
  • Sunscreen
  • Body lotion
  • Qtips
  • Neosporin
  • Band aids
  • Ibuprofen, benadryl, immodium and cough drops
  • Birth control pills
  • Emergency prescription of Cipro
  • Bug spray
  • Cortisone ointment
  • Tweezers
  • Nail clippers
  • Hair ties & clips

Electronics:

  • DSLR + extra battery + charger
  • Reader + charger
  • Nano + charger
  • Laptop + charger
  • International phone + charger ?? [Dad is talking about buying me one because he’s neurotic. We’ll see if he does or not]
  • Bose headphones + charger ?? [These could be incredible to have considering I’ll be on 20+ bus rides, but they’re another electronic to shlep/add to the list.]
  • Converters
  • Mini surge protector

Other:

  • Guidebooks
  • Notebook
  • Pens
  • Earbuds
  • Inflatable travel pillow
  • Sleep mask
  • Ear plugs
  • Lock + keys
  • Over the shoulder purse
  • Kleenex packs
  • Chapsticks
  • Headlamp
  • Travel blanket ?? [I have a thin one that isn’t too bulky, can’t decide if it’s worth carrying]
  • Quick dry travel towel
  • Plastic bags
  • Laundry bag
  • Watch
  • Alarm clock [if I don’t have a cell phone]
  • Copies of passport & CCs
  • Travel wallet

… and of course, my passport!

Did I forget anything? Am I being excessive? It looks like a lot all listed out, but in terms of bulk, I don’t think it’ll be too heavy… Then again, I’m excellent at underestimating. 

Headed back to the southern hemisphere

When I came back to the US at the end of June having spent 6 weeks in South America, I simply couldn’t fathom putting myself back to the daily grind. I thought it might be the typical post-vacation blues, but as July wore on I realized it wasn’t just that.

Don’t get me wrong — I love being a journalist and a web editor. I learned more in a single year as an Assistant Editor and nightlife blogger than I could have during 5 years in school, and I’m so thankful that I was employed straight out of college.

My alma mater, Northeastern University, puts its students on the fast track to a career. It’s the reason the university is world renowned, and why so many students choose to spend 5 years there. Sure, students at NU study abroad, go on summer dialogues, even co-op abroad, but the emphasis and strength of co-op is that it leads to employment… the day after you graduate. But after a summer of reflection, I’ve realized that because I spent the last 5 years focused completely on pursuing a life as a journalist, I never stopped to think about how much world there is to see, or how young I am to be jumping straight onto a career path.

And that’s not to say that Northeastern isn’t an incredible school. I am so thankful that I moved myself across the country to gain such an incredible education, at a university that prides itself on real world, hands-on experience.

But at 24, a year out of college, I had a sudden realization that I was too young to be settling down. For the first time in my life, I’m single with nobody to look out for but myself. I’m off of a lease and out of a job, I have nothing tying me down but a single storage unit in Middletown, CT. In other words, I’m unattached and unobliged, and that’s such an incredibly rare situation — one I may never find myself in again.

So I’m going back.

Starting October 1st, I’ll be participating in a four week, Spanish language traveling classroom program in Ecuador. I’ll travel to four cities throughout the country: Montañita, Manta, Quito and Cuenca, spending a week in each taking 4 hours of Spanish a day and immersed in the culture in three separate home-stays. In addition to twenty hours of Spanish a week, I’ll be taking surfing, salsa, and cooking lessons, trekking to volcanoes, snorkeling off the Isla de Plata, relaxing in hot springs, whale watching, and even paragliding.

Then, starting at the end of October, I’ll spend the rest of 2012 — 9 weeks — making my through Peru, Bolivia and Argentina. My itinerary isn’t completely solidified, but I think it’s going to stay that way. I loved the six weeks I spent on the continent in May and June, but not having flexibility in my travel plans was tough, and I can’t wait to arrive in certain cities and decide to spend a few extra days there, just because.

So here’s to more world travels and adventure — I can’t wait to document them all here!