I Want to Get a Master's Degree (or three), but I Probably Won't

I love education. I love reading and learning and discussing what I've read and learned with people who are smarter than me.

Traveling is amazing for the sake of travel alone, but my main drive behind wanting to visit and live in other countries is so that I can learn history FROM the people it happened to IN the places it happened. I've gained a lot of knowledge that is helpful to my development as a person, but I can't really put that on a job application.

The other problem is that I don't just want one career. This world is so huge! There are so many things to love and learn! Imagine working in the SAME job your entire life.

I have three main interests right now and would love to study them in a formal setting, to give myself structure and guidance from those who know more than me.

1. Masters of Teaching, English Secondary Education. Working in Korea has shown me that I do have the potential to be a good teacher. I connect well with my students and I enjoy trying to craft lessons that will engage all of them. Imagine if I was actually teaching a subject I loved and enjoyed? (Not that I don't love teaching the English language, but there's only so much you can accomplish at this level.) If I get my teaching certification I can teach at any secondary school anywhere in the world, wherever there's a need. It would also be nice to have a backup for if/when I return to the United States. I remember the impact my high school English teacher had on me and I know I could be that person for others.
Length of program: 1 year. Cost of program: $20,000.

2. Masters in Postcolonial Cultural and Literature. Postcolonialism is a subset of literary studies that really struck me during my undergraduate degree, but I didn't have the chance to take any classes and dive deep. I think I've mentioned this somewhere here before, but I'm really into dissecting the power structures of literally every subject and situation. It's rather tiring and unnecessary in many situations, but it's perfect for analyzing the effects of colonialism and all of its fucked up layers of power.
Length of program: 1 year. Cost of program: $20,000.

3. Masters in Public Health. Concentration in women's health and reproductive rights on a global scale. If I had to choose only one it'd be this one. I can see a long career for myself in this field which is why I'm hesitant to actually research and apply to graduate schools. Once I start down this path I'll most likely keep going and won't have the freedom to fuck off to South America for a year or two. Length of program: 2 years. Cost of program: $40,000.

Total: 4 years of full-time education and at least $60,000. Ain't nobody got the time and money for all of that.

The problem is that I don't WANT to choose just one. I want to be well-rounded! I want to do many things in my life! I want my experiences to build on each other! I think that what I learn as a teacher in different countries can improve my focus in postcolonial literature and culture which can then give me the skills to be a more mindful and empathetic person in the global health sector. 

And it's not like I want to pursue these masters degrees because I'm scared of the "real world" (whatever the hell that means). I want to use my knowledge to be a contributing member of society and improve people's lives for the better! Who can fault me for that?

And in between all this, there's still the whole world left to see. South America, Central America, Southeast Asia, Oceania, Antartica, the Canadian prairies, most of America. Italy. Greece. Spend more time in the Balkans. Anywhere and everywhere I can get my hands on, really. 

And between all of THAT I would like to have kids someday. (I say "someday" as if I'm not a woman with a biological clock that's already halfway done ticking.) I want to spend as much time with my grandparents as possible. I want to be there for my cousins when they go through their teenage years. I have lots of books I need to read. Movies to see. People to talk to. Sunsets to look at and sunrises to sleep through. Mountains to climb. 

How can I do everything? I can't. And I won't. But goddammit if I'm not going to try. 

Eating Alone

I've finally gotten the hang of eating alone.

Last summer, and all of last year really, I was too scared to eat alone. Sure, I'd get a falafel on the street and go enjoy it in a park by myself, but no matter how badly I wanted to I could not get my feet to take me inside a restaurant and sit down. By myself. Alone.

I'm over that now, mostly. Or I'm much better at getting over myself, at least.

This is my process. I read my book until I'm given a menu and then continue to read until my food comes. Once my food arrives, I listen to an audiobook or a podcast (I cannot read while eating. For some reason I incapable of reading while either one of my hands is actively doing something else). I only put one earbud in so I'm aware of my surroundings and so I don't shut the rest of the restaurant out.  After all, even when dining alone eating out is still a collective experience. I am content with my books and podcasts and food. I am happy.

But then, in typical 22-year-old fashion, I'll think "Wow I wish I had someone to share this with. I wish I had a boyfriend to travel with."

Those feelings are quick and fleeting when I realize that someday when I'm older, I'll wish I could go back to these exact moments.

Someday I will be older and (probably? most likely?) married and we'll get into a fight over something dumb and I'll be so angry and I'd give anything to go back to being 22, to being truly alone. To enjoy a meal without talking to anyone, to not having any responsibilities. I'd give anything to walk home alone at my own pace and have no one waiting for me except my own bed. 

Now, whenever I walk home alone at night and wishing I had a companion, I'm also walking with the acute feeling that 44-year-old me is sooooo jealous of 22-year-old me right now. And I shouldn't waste either of our time by longing for something that I don't currently have instead of enjoying what I do have. Which is an unmeasurable amount of freedom.

All of this freedom feels too big for me right now. I can't comprehend it. Probably won't be able to comprehend it until I have a career, a mortgage, a kid, a husband, until my time is split between a thousand responsibilities. I won't be able to fully appreciate these moments until I have enough hindsight to do all the work for me.

Hmmmm. I could keep thinking about this, but I think I'll just go have another beer.

In Possession of a Female Body

me and my female body somewhere in the mountains in central Romania

By most measures, I am classified as a "strong and independent" woman.  I started traveling solo at 21 and have since been to 22 countries by myself.  I fund my own travels. I'm comfortable striking up a conversation with a stranger because I know that (most) everyone wants to be your friend as badly as you want to be theirs but they're also nervous about proffering the first word. I'm way more confident now than when I was 16 (thank god for that). Hell, I'm more confident now as I'm typing this than I was last month. That's how growth and experience work.

However, a few times a year, I am forced to remember that I am vulnerable due to the world I live in and the body that I possess.  At the end of the day, I am female. I inhabit a female body and because of this, I am at risk.

Last night* I was reminded that at any moment, everything I own can be easily taken from me. Please don't be concerned, nothing bad actually happened. But I was reminded of every bad thing that could've happened.  A few disrespectful words from an older, drunk man doused cold water over my head and took me out of my mind and personality and thumped me back into my body.  He forced me to become all too aware of the corporal. He reminded me that no matter how hard I try to be just a human on this planet who is doing their best, the shape of my body, sound of my voice, and structure of my chromosomes will always come first. I can't rise above this body.

my female body having fun in the bathroom during a wine tour in Moldova

I walked into the living room of the hostel I volunteered at where other people were finishing up a movie. A cute German guy had just won poker night so he bought beer for the room.  I carried a bottle opener with me, trying to be helpful. An American from D.C. began popping the bottle caps in some creative way that only guys and experienced drinkers know how to do. He let the caps fall on the wooden floor of the living room.

"You're going to pick those up, right?" I said with a laugh. Lighthearted, chill, jokingly, never confrontative or overbearing.

"That's your job, isn't it?" said D.C. guy, in all seriousness. He had made a few sexist "jokes" earlier in the night and I was tired of it.

"No, it's not actually. It's not my job to clean up after grown men."

"Why are you such a bitch?" Tyler*, who had spent most of the night silent, said.  Tyler is the worst type of American I've encountered during my travels. In his late 30's, no attachments, no respect for women, with a dash of a drinking problem. I hadn't been around when he arrived but when I first noticed him around noon he had already started drinking. During dinner, I overheard him bragging to other guys about all the prostitutes he's slept with. That type of guy.

I didn't reply. I didn't know what to say, I wasn't even talking to him, didn't even notice he was still in the room. I was too focused on the cute German to realize that Tyler had been watching me interact with others for a few hours, slowly letting his anger towards me build.

I stood there in the doorway. When I didn't move or say anything, he continued.  "Seriously, why are you such a bitch? What's your role here? Do you even work here? I'm going to complain to the manager tomorrow and get you fired. You don't have a role. You're just a bitch. You bitched about the movie and you bitched about the game now you're bitching at us. Get out of here. Just leave."

No one else in the room seemed to hear. Either that or they chose to ignore. And so I left. Of course I wasn't going to argue with a big, drunk, ex-Marine.

I know my place. I know how easy it is for a man like him to hurt me if he wanted to. And I could tell he wanted to by the disdain in his voice. If we were alone or I dared to talk back he wouldn't have hesitated. So I left.

my female body in a place that feels like home

I shut the door on to the living room and stood in the dark hallway. Most of the hostel and the rest of the staff had already gone to bed. I stood there, warm with anger, too angry to move my legs and move on. Even though the door was shut and I had left just like he asked, I could still hear him talking about me on the other side. He was drunk, repeating himself. Talking about how he was going to get me fired tomorrow and other big talk, as if he had any power other than the fact that he was a large male and I was an average sized, young female.

I texted the manager, John, my friend. "You don't have to do anything now, but I want Tyler gone tomorrow. He called me a bitch and other things and I don't want him around."

I went into the kitchen where a few people were still hanging out. John came down, even though I told him it could wait, and went into the living room. I heard raised voices but no specifics. The next morning, Tyler and the guy from D.C. were gone before I woke up. "No one talks to my friends that way," John said when I asked why he came downstairs immediately instead of waiting until the next morning. I already felt close to John, but seeing how much he cared meant a lot, especially when my legs still felt weak and my backbone hadn’t fully recovered.

As you can see, nothing bad happened to me, physically.  I was lucky to be surrounded by people who trusted me and friends who would protect me. Even though Tyler succeeded in making me quiet and small and scared, I knew in the back of my mind I'd be okay since I had John in my corner.

But I also hate the fact that I needed John. That I couldn't stand up for myself or protect myself. Even though Tyler was a guest and I had superiority as a staff member, I still needed a man to protect me.

I'm extremely aware of the fact that most people don't want to hurt me, don't want to hurt anyone. Most people are good. My travels to 23 countries and counting can attest to that. No man has ever physically hurt me but the potential is always on the back of my mind. Walking down a deserted street, trying to make my way to another hostel, I think "What if tonight's the night?  It's just a matter of time, isn't it?"

my (blurry) female body using its strength to row around a salt lake at the bottom of a salt mine near Cluj, Romania

I like being female most of the time, in the instances when I'm aware of my sex and gender. I like many of the traits that my culture allows a female to possess.  I like painted nails and picking flowers and romcoms and expressing my emotions with ease. I like pink and yellow and journaling and babysitting. I hate most makeup but I like lipstick and mascara and easily getting sympathy by squeezing out a few tears.

But sometimes, I hate having a female body. I hate walking home alone at night. I hate second guessing the intentions of every man that is nice to me.  I hate wearing dresses or looking too nice because then male eyes linger for too long. I hate curtailing my drinking because I know what happens to girls who just want to have fun. I hate how I feel more comfortable, more at ease, more safe whenever I'm with a male friend. I hate how guys like Tyler can so easily remind me that I'm not safe even when I'm in my favorite place. I hate how I need quality men like John to protect me from the Tyler's of the world. I hate I hate I hate I hate.

As long as I occupy this female body I will always hate the culture that made me believe that the female body is a thing to be hated.

*names have been changed, obviously, and this did not happen 'last night'. I wrote the beginning of this post the day after it happened but it took me a full month to write about it.

Posting While Sedentary (Also, Where I'm Going This Summer)

Alternative title: should I post if I have nothing to say? If I'm not traveling?

I hate having my time wasted and I hate wasting other people's time.  But I feel like everything I read by (most) travel bloggers these days is just fluff.  Meaningless #hashtag content.  Like everyone is trying to fulfill their requirement of one Instagram post a day and two blog posts a week, nevermind if they even have new pictures or new stories to tell or new thoughts to share.

What bores me most about travel blogs is that people feel compelled to have a "point" for every single post.  A long layover in the Netherlands turns into "How to Spend 24 Hours in Amsterdam".  Visting a few cafes after a week in Paris turns into "The Best Cafes in Paris" as if they've had time to sit and contemplate them all.  I'm tired of everyone trying to have an angle. 

Just tell me about your day!

I want to see hastily taken pictures in a museum before security tells you to stop, shots of a flower that you thought was pretty.  What book did you read in that park you sat in for hours since your feet hurt and you couldn't bear the thought of walking one more kilometer to the metro? Were you having a nice day at a cool museum then, once you connected to the free Wifi, accidentally got into a text-argument with your best friend and now your thoughts of that museum and the artists you saw are tainted?

Believe it or not, I don't read travel blogs for useful information. Sounds ridiculous, but I'm sure most people relate.  If I want information, I use a guidebook or a tourism website. If I read a blog, I want to hear about your day. I'm sure I've retained information through osmosis of all I've read, but in my four-ish years of reading a few blogs a week, I've never actually, consciously used any of it while traveling.

WHAT I'M TRYING TO SAY IS that I don't want to post just for the sake of it.

Because I don't want to bore you.  Because you don't deserve to have your time wasted since everyone and their mother is trying to waste your time on the internet.

I've said all of that ^^^^ to preface this new information (although this info isn't new if you follow me on Twitter or Instagram):  I'm traveling again! Starting June 6th!

I will (hopefully) travel until late August or early September and I really don't have much planned.

The only definite is that I will be in Slovakia for a month, back at the hostel in the mountains that I ran back to last July when I needed a break. (I really need to update y'all on that story. I only wrote one post about it and never followed up with a part II. Oops!)

After Slovakia, there's a strong possibility that I'm going to China (Beijing, specifically) with my school for two weeks because my school is paying for it, even though I graduated!, and over my dead body will I ever turn down a free trip.

From there, who knows! I might have a long layover in Dubai on the way back from China. I was wary of the idea at first, but now that I looked into fun and reasonably priced desert tours I'm extremely excited at the thought. 

Once I'm back in Europe, I have no plans for a full month. I'm considering Moldova, Romania, and Bulgaria, but August in those countries might be too hot for me. That sounds like a dumb excuse, but last summer when I was in other south-ish eastern European countries, like Croatia, Bosnia and Herzegovina, and Serbia, I was so miserably hot I couldn't fully appreciate my days. Hence my exodus to the High Tatras in Slovakia.  So I'm not going to let myself be miserable again if push comes to shove.  Maybe I'll go to Slovenia and do some chill hiking, or Latvia and Estonia. Who knows! I'll probably let Ryanair decide my next move.

Near the end of August, I'm heading to London to meet Poppy, an Australian friend that I met last summer in Slovakia. From there we'll take a night bus to Scotland and do some hiking.  I didn't expect to go back to Scotland this soon after leaving last year, but Poppy has never been and suggested we go. Similar to free trips to China, I will also never turn down an excuse to go back to Scotland.

From there, I'll (hopefully) follow her to Sweden where she's starting her master's degree and just chill for a bit.  For some reason, there are insanely cheap flights back to the US from Sweden compared to other places in Europe. How convenient!

That's my ~general plan~ but who knows how the next three months will unfold!  I had a plan for last summer too and I set fire to that only one month in.

Whatever happens, I'm going to blog about it.  In the most genuine, unselfconscious way possible. No forced angles to any of my stories. Not trying to pretend I'm an expert in anything, much less a city I've only spent a few days in.

I'm just a girl with a blog, standing in front of a Europe/China/UAE, asking them to love her.

On the Road Update: London, Pairs, Barcelona

Paris

Hello friends!  I am currently writing this from my friend's dorm in Barcelona.  I'm so lucky to have friends studying abroad in different countries because 1) it saves me money and 2) I'm going to places I normally wouldn't go.  The plan was to spend my spring break in Ireland, but right now is the perfect time for me to visit Spain which I never would've done if it weren't for my friend here.  And since I'm already in Barcelona, I might as well visit other Spanish cities and boop over to Portugal, right?
I'll write up a detailed itinerary once I get home, but for now, I'll just give you a little update.

I spent 4 days in London, on another friend's air mattress (God bless kind people), and mainly went to museums because they're free.  I also saw the Cursed Child play.  Shoutout to myself for buying tickets 18 months in advance.

Then I did 4 days in Paris and oh my god now I understand why so many people are Francophiles (which is a term that also fits for lovers of James and Dave Franco).  Paris was absolutely beautiful and if I didn't have my time in Spain already planned/it wasn't so expensive I definitely would have stayed there my entire spring break.

I arrived in Barcelona yesterday and it is so nice being by the water again.  It's also a lot more chill here, so I can catch up with online stuff like this.  Also Harry Styles' first solo single just came out, so if you see me with headphones in then 11 times out of 10 I'll be listening to that.

I have everyone is doing well!  Update me on y'all's lives in the comments!

confession time: I feel "too young" to solo travel

Photo by Slava Bowman

I'm trying to make plans for my summer.  Eastern Europe.  Poland, Ukraine, Romania, Bulgaria, and Greece.  I'll start from the top and work my way down, fly out of either Greece or Istanbul at the end of the summer or when my money runs out, whichever comes first.

*90's movie record scratch* But wait, back up.  I already have a plan for my summer.  I literally just told you my plan.  Poland, Ukraine, Romania, Bulgaria, and Greece.  Why do I act like I don't know what I'll be doing in 3 months time?  Why do I make jokes about my money running out when, as long as I don't go crazy, it definitely shouldn't?

I'm scared to commit to a solid plan because, in all honesty, I feel too young to be going off on my own.
This feeling is akin to impostor syndrome, feeling like I have no right to be where I am.

Which is absolutely ridiculous.  I'm 21.  I know PLENTY of people who have traveled on their own by my age or younger.

So why do I still feel like I'm too young to travel on my own?

It's a confidence thing, really.  I just need to do it.  I need to go, to prove myself that I can do it.
It's just scary right now.  In my head, I keep thinking "I should go home, get a summer job, see my younger cousins, hang out with my grandma".  All very good excuses for not traveling this summer, but that's what they are: excuses.

I know I need to go because if I don't I'll regret it.  I just wish I didn't feel so damn young.

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Did you ever feel like you were "too young" for whatever you wanted to do?