What's in store.

So remember a few months back when I was leaving for South America and I was stressed and crazy and crying and bullet-pointing all over the place?

Well, I like to think that I learn from my mistakes.

Tomorrow, I'm going to Turkey.

To live.

For awhile.

*gasp*

***

I got home from camp on Monday night.

I took the rest of that night and the following day to decompress and, promptly, set to unpacking and repacking on Wednesday.

Initially, I meant to unpack from camp and repack for Turkey.

However, it turned into unpacking from camp, packing for Turkey, unpacking for Turkey, repacking for Turkey, etc.

The fact of the matter being that, a process that could have taken an afternoon, ended up taking four days.

But I'm done! (For the most part)

***

When I say that I learn from my mistakes, I am mostly referencing the fact that I left all of my packing for South America until the very last minute.

This time, giving myself a full week, allowed for the peace of mind that came from unpacking and repacking so many times.

It has also given me time to relax and come to terms with what I am about to do.

In the spirit for "pre-travel bulletpoints", here are some of the things (apart from packing and unpacking and repacking) that I have done in my week at home.

• I've eaten really good food.
• Washed the "camp" off all of my clothes.
• I've spent quality time with my parents.
• I've consumed a collective seven beers.
• I've run a collective 12 miles.
• I've done some yoga.
• I've watched Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Scream, Seeking a Friend for the End of the World, Searching for Sugar Man, and Bridget Jones' Diary -- all interspersed with episodes of Friends.
• I listened to nearly the entire Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince audiobook.
• I made a trip to Burlington to spend some time with some quality humans.
• And I've said my "see you soons".

***

Similar to my trip to South America, there has been a lot of build up leading to this adventure.  However, unlike  my trip to South America, on the night before my departure, rather than feeling anxious and sad, I feel strangely at peace with the idea.

That being said, I still have over 24 hours until my flight leaves, I'm sure I'll have my moments.

But it's nice, after so much build up, to still know that I'm doing the right thing.

***

Faithful readers might also recall that I was very sad when I was getting ready to leave for my trip this past January.

I had just said goodbye to my boyfriend, Ryan, as he left the United States after a month of Vermont winter shenanigans.

This time, he will be waiting for me at the airport in Istanbul.

So that's that.

I'll see you all soon.

Plates and Glue

As fate would have it - I have returned to summer camp in Connecticut for the third summer in a row.

Amid stifling heatwaves, ever-growing fatigue, lousy food, and an overwhelming sense of anticipation, I have found solace in spending time with close friends, making jewelry, planning my next adventure, and batiking a wall-hanging (my left and right hand are green and blue, respectively).

And as always, I find solace at camp in the little moments that are somehow not so little.

There have been a few.

Here is one of them.

About a month ago, I was on the main porch one night; the kids had gone to bed, the mosquitoes had come out, and the air felt slightly cool and damp.

I saw a friend sitting on the edge of the porch, in the shadows, looking a little sad.

So I walked up to her and asked her how she was doing.

She replied that everything was okay, but I remained unconvinced.

So I asked again.

Her response was roughly as follows -

"In my country, we have a saying:

When you drop a plate, it breaks.

You can pick up all of the pieces.

You can glue it back together meticulously.

But it will never be the same again.

The cracks will always be there."

We continued talking and she further explained the situation that she was applying this metaphor to.  Without really knowing whether what I was saying had any semblance of truth to it, I reassured her that I was sure that everything would be fine.

It may seem an anti-climactic anecdote, I just think there is a kind of melancholy truth to the plate metaphor.

Despite the somewhat gloomy undertones of the saying, one must think about what the cracks mean. The plate may be marred, but do the cracks make it more interesting? Do they give the plate a story?

Maybe I'm being too optimistic.

The cracks would make the plate more fragile; if it were to be dropped again, it would certainly break even more easily than the first time.

Maybe I'm thinking too much about the durability of plates.

Regardless, it was high time for a check-in.  I'll leave the plate analysis up to you.

Big things coming, folks.