Step 1?

Cochabamba Urkupina Festival 2013 - Photo courtesy of David Clow on Flickr 

I've been pushing this post off for quite some time now.  Maybe it's because I'm a slacker, but maybe it's because none of this has seemed real.

Five months ago I took a leap of faith/insanity/desperation and applied for a month long trip to Bolivia.  This isn't news to most of my friends by this point, who have all been so excited for me, but with less than a month until my flight, it's just starting to feel real.

Here's how it all went down last summer.  I was having a mild life crisis, which you've seen some of in previous posts, where I was getting restless and reading travel blogs multiple times a day.  I was getting jealous of the lives others were living.  I started looking into trips I could do just for fun while I still held onto some semblance of reason.  Then in a moment of weakness and insanity, I found myself filling out forms and hitting submit before I could stop myself.  It still didn't feel real though, they had to actually accept me and who knew if that would actually happen.  A little voice tucked deep down called out hoping they would never see my application.  Then I got the email stating they had in fact seen my application and everything looked good pending a Skype interview.  What had I done?  I wasn't ready for all this.  I couldn't even fill out the travel dates because I had no idea when I'd be able to go.

I moved forward with the process because I felt I had no other choice (and because I wanted to, but that voice was not the dominant one).  The following month I did a little fundraiser for the trip that still didn't seem like it would happen.  Now I am three weeks out from my travel date, and all I need to do is pick up my visa and step onto the plane.  How did this happen?  I'm a moron.  What was I thinking?  If I hadn't spent so much money on the flights, vaccinations, etc, I would totally be writing a letter lying about how I suddenly could no longer help with the organization's program.  I'm terrified.  That's right.  For the girl who claims to love traveling, I don't know why I'm doing this.

This could be the stupidest smart thing I've ever done with my life.  I planned it as well as I could around my work schedule. However, as is common in entertainment, schedules change.  Unfortunately plane tickets don't (at least not without penalty).  Have I just royally screwed myself financially?  Have I just thrown off my whole future work trajectory?  Wait, I'm going to have to speak Spanish on a daily basis?  WHAT HAVE I DONE?!

Let's take a moment for a calmer side tangent, and I'll tell you about this organization I applied to that is forcing me to realize my dream of traveling.  Agapé Adventures.  It's an organization based out of Ireland that has programs around the world.  They teach children, bring medical aid to communities, stimulate local economies, care for wild animals, and more all around the world.  They help fund their endeavors by allowing travelers to come help their programs for short periods of time.  The trip I'm going on is to teach children of Cochabamba, Bolivia subjects like math and reading while also helping with their sports program.  It's totally voluntourism, which is a touchy subject and some days I question if what I'm doing is morally right, but at least it is still helping in some ways, hopefully more than it's harming.  If I find that not to be the case after this trip, I'll work that knowledge into my future plans.

From what I've read, the program seems to be really doing good in the world and other volunteers have sung their praises.  I hope I can actually be of service to the programs and not just another face that comes and leaves with fun stories but leaves nothing good behind.  It's this hope that helps keep me somewhat motivated when faced with my screaming fears of this whole trip.

Speaking of which, SERIOUSLY, WHAT AM I DOING!?  It's been a tumultuous week since being back from the holidays.  This fact is not going to go away anytime soon.  I think I will worry up until my feet hit the soil of Cochabamba.  Then there's is no turning back.  It's that milestone I'm racing towards while simultaneously pulling away from.  It's that date of no return where I can enjoy the unknown and know that there is nothing I can do to change the path I'm on.  The next three weeks will be filled with fears fueled by the option (that's really not an option) that I can still back out.

Who is this scared little girl?  I can't wait to get back to the confident woman I know I can be.  Cochabamba, maybe you'll be my saving grace after all.  But dammit, I won't admit that until I get there.