Tomorrow I will step off the plane and once again be home. Well, not exactly home. San Francisco is in my home country but my family lives more than 2,000 miles away. (That’s about 10,000 kilometers for my metric-loving friends.) But I will have returned to North America after a little hiatus spent hopping from place to place from my home in South Korea. So many anxieties await me. I’m going to get fat, for one, because the standard weight gain just from going through immigration is about 5 pounds (12.7 kilograms). Then add in all the sugary lattes I’ll be chugging to wash down the Taco Bell and Arby’s that I’ve been missing… By the time I make it to Atlanta and fill up on my mom’s cooking I’ll look like the Pillsbury doughgirl.

Then there’s the language. I’m going to have to relearn English! For the last several months I’ve been speaking in the international language of emoticons and gestures that transcends all linguistic boundaries. I’m really going to have to work on my pronunciation. (This is not even a joke- my American friends whom I met up with in Argentina pointed out that I have eliminated articles and pronouns from my vocabulary and simply say things such as, “I like.” “Let’s have snack.” Apparently this is weird.) I’ve been out of practice speaking with native speakers regularly and it actually has affected me- I’ve definitely watered down my vocabulary and even have changed my word order to be better understood while I was living in Japan and Korea. This is a very real affliction, and I hope I am raising awareness. Everyone, my name is Marybeth, and I speak Konglish.

So besides getting fat and learning English, what else will America have in store for me? I’m going to need a car. And a job. And an apartment. These are a few of my least favorite things (to deal with right now, I mean). So before I crash-land back in the Land of the Free/Home of the Brave or whatever they’re calling it these days, I’d like to take a moment to reflect on what I’ve been doing since my last day of work on August 29, 2014. Join me as I navigate the jungles of Asia, the commies in North Korea, China, and Vietnam, the snakes and coyotes in the deserts of Dubai, and the often hilariously embarrassing attempts at communicating on the South American continent. I will take you on a journey of intrigue, mystery, struggle, romance, and everything else you’d expect from an excursion around the world. Actually I’m just going to tell you about my trip. It involves food, fun, and a lot of less exciting things. Here goes:

On August 29 I went to work dressed as a mild-mannered elementary school teacher. Little did my students know that their trusted leader was about to abandon them to their studies and take off for new places and unknown adventures. I was told not to alert the children to my leaving. My boss thought it would give them too much anxiety anticipating my absence. I learned the hard way that in fact not saying goodbye gave me overwhelming anxiety, so much so that I was texting the other teachers asking how my students were and even sent them a package full of stickers and Vietnamese bank notes.

Leaving Korea was hard, as I had called Busan my home for 4 years and would be leaving people and memories behind. The grand exit was made a little more bearable because I was not going alone. My dashing boyfriend Jordan and his trusty side-kick Chris and I were off to the Philippines! The two of them had planned to travel together and due to (what would become a common occurrence, I later found out) a change of plans I ended up tagging along their route for the first month. So on September 4 I said goodbye to my friends and the Land of the Morning Calm and took off from Gimhae International Airport destined for Manila! Well, sort of.

I was waiting at the gate while Jordan sent me frantic messages about he and Chris not being able to board. Then his phone died. So with the help of my friend on my phone and some stressed out ladies at the information desk and a $1000 round-trip(?) ticket from Manila to Busan purchased by Chris we were ready to go. (To enter the Philippines you need to present a departing ticket. This information is not advertised so I have met dozens of backpackers finding themselves in Hong Kong or Taiwan just because they had to buy a ticket on the fly. Hence Chris’s golden ticket.)

We made it to the Philippines!! Yay!! There were debacles, that I will not go into here, but we made it out unscathed and had some amazing moments in the beautiful beaches, coves, forests, and volcanoes that that island nation has to offer. (Oh, and Chris left. He had a moment and needed to collect himself in Taipei. We will meet up with him again later on in the journey.) I will attempt to refrain from going into the details of all of the things I did over the last 100 days or so but I will give a takeaway from each country.

This was my second time to the Philippines, a very poor and somewhat dangerous country. Jordan, who hadn’t traveled quite as much in the third world, was (in my opinion) naively chatting it up with the locals and politely declining their offers. I took a different approach. As a woman who has traveled alone (or as a woman, period) I don’t talk to strangers. I know that 99% of the time those conversations are started because someone wants something from me. Jordan accused me of being cold and told me that I should be more empathetic to their situation. I considered it, but his stance started to shift over the course of the journey, too. I’m not proud of shutting poor people out but when I’ve been asked by 37 men on the same street if I want a taxi ride I’m over it.

So that was the Philippines in a tiny nutshell. Next was Indonesia. Chris was supposed to be on our flight but in his typical fashion he made a dramatic entrance. (A typhoon forced him to re-route.) Finally we were reunited in Bali! We immediately ate Thai food. (Oh, and we ate at Hooters in Manila. Yes, Hooters.) That day Jordan and I learned how to surf from the locals on Kuta Beach. The waves are (I guess) some of the best in the world and it was actually a lot easier than I thought! We watched as baby sea turtles were released in an effort to help the species. And then we were followed for 20 minutes by a kid trying to sell us bracelets.

Then to Gili Trawangan! Here I did my open water diver course. The diving in the Gilis is A-MA-ZING. We saw turtles galore, my first wreck, and although I didn’t get to see any sharks I dove at “Shark Point” a couple of times where everyone who went deeper than me got to see black- and white-tipped reef sharks. I was disappointed, but I have a reason to go back.

Singapore. I literally spent most of my time in Singapore eating and being on the Internet. I hadn’t had a good connection in the other places so I was finally catching up on booking flights and making reservations. Although Singapore is famous for Chinese and Malaysian food, we focused on the Indian and I couldn’t get enough. On October 4 I said a tearful goodbye to Jordan and headed for the airport.

China. You know in the past traveling to China was a huge pain for Americans (it still is, if you ask me) but since last year a 72-hour visa-free transit system has been in place, which allowed me to hang out in Beijing for a few days while getting psyched up for North Korea. I had quite the debacle getting to my hotel at 3 in the morning but I made it and survived. (Quick prop to Malaysian Air for the stellar service and free-flowing wine.) The following day I got to see Lee MinHo (a huge, huge, HUGE Korean idol who has acted in at least one of my favorite Korean telenovelas) as he was ushered through with loads of security and chased by hundreds of screaming Chinese fans. That was kind of cool. I made it to the hostel someone had recommended for being “in the center of all the action” and I had to practically crowd surf over the thousands of people enjoying the lovely autumn Sunday. So this was China.

***My time in Beijing was actually broken into two trips. As I mentioned the visa/transit situation allowed me to spend three more days after NK. The second half of my trip included the Great Wall. It was big. And because it was fall the leaves were changing, the air was crisp, and it was exactly everything you would expect and more. Truly one of the greatest highlights of my trip. Pun intended.

Take-away: Beer cost 50 cents per liter! Starbucks $5 for a tall americano. (Did that stop me from ordering americanos? No. #Firstworldcomforts) The restaurant on the corner had the best dumplings in the world and the meals were all less than $2. I ate alotta dumplings. The night markets sold tarantulas, snakes, and scorpions to eat. I did not indulge but did watch as a dumb American shelled out $20 to eat a tarantula. Great Facebook photo, dude.

North Korea. DPRK. Bukhan. 조선민주주의인민공화국. The biggie, the one that got everyone’s attention. I will likely write more extensively about that experience in another post so here it will be given the same amount of attention as all the other countries. (Very communist of me, I know.) It was a four and a half day tour, and those hours were filled to the brim with activities for us tourists trying to get the biggest bang for our buck. There were 13 people in our group, and I’d say that among us I was the least-traveled. I did, however, have some of the most knowledge about the Koreas, their culture, history, and present situation. This motley crew featured some of the world’s best; we were like the Ocean’s 13 of the Chosun Operation. (To those of you who don’t know, Chosun is the name of a 500-year long (Korean) dynasty, also part of North Korea’s official name in Hangul.) You can bet there were some great conversations on that tour bus.

The first night we got drunk, as nothing bonds people across borders and cultures like alcohol. I have to point out that beer in North Korea is better than in the South. Anyone who has ever had Cass or Hite knows the bar is low but NK beer is actually… good! I heard something about Kim Jong Il hiring Germans to brew for him, who really knows. The point is that it’s good. And I taught the group a drinking game that I learned in South Korea called Sam-Yuk-Kyu (3-6-9). The premise is we count in a circle but you can’t say the numbers that have a 3, 6, or a 9. Sounds easy, but with alcohol and language barriers involved hilarity ensues. I’m pretty sure that one of our guides never had a clue how the game was played and just wanted to drink. He succeeded at that.

The next 3 days were packed with sightseeing, lectures, questions, shopping, and photos. OMG the photos. If you told me we took a million photos all together I wouldn’t be surprised. (That’s 374,981,123 photos in metric.) One guy had a selfie stick and pretty much documented the entire trip with it in hand. We rode the subway, and a tram, bowed to the bodies of Kim Il Sung and Kim Jong Il lying in state in a massive mausoleum, went to a film screening of a comedy (yes, even North Korean people like to laugh), and mingled with locals at a bar and in the park. I sat down and joined a picnic when some friendly ajuma and ajossi (grandmas and grandpas) insisted on feeding me. The food was great, and the soju washed it down nicely! For a few moments I felt like I was in South Korea again, as I have stumbled upon such gatherings while hiking and have been greeted with the exact same hospitality. Unfortunately, we “didn’t have time” for me to enjoy my picnic for long. “No time” is code for “this is not on the schedule, I don’t want this foreigner causing trouble, abort!”

I’m guessing you’re itching for some kind of juicy information, like that I saw Kim Jong Eun and yes, everyone in the country has the same haircut, and that the food was made of cardboard. I’m sorry to disappoint everyone but North Korea was remarkably NORMAL. Well, not totally “normal”. I wouldn’t call any country normal. Every country has some sort of cultural bias, strange fashions, and quirks.

Before you tell me that I didn’t see the “real” North Korea I want to ask you, “What is the ‘real’ North Korea?” Obviously Koryo did not take me on a tour of the prison camps but I don’t think tourists visiting the US have our penitentiaries on their itinerary, either. The people weren’t real? The people are in fact very real. They are human, with lives, families, worries, and hobbies. It’s true that in Pyongyang the residents are of the highest class- a class, I might add, that shouldn’t officially exist in a communist state- members of families who have pleased their leaders and received apartments, cars, and higher education in return. Sure they are confused about some historical facts but I assure you that they are very aware of the poverty in their country, the wealth enjoyed in other nations, and the rigidity of their government. The Koreans in the North lament the division with as much ardor as those in the South, they are interested in foreigners (they do not HATE us), and although they might seem brainwashed by western standards they are intelligent people making sense of the “facts” placed before them. If there is anything, ANYTHING, I gained from this trip it is that my eyes were opened to the propaganda that exists in every country and the dangers that come with cultural bias and nationalism. (I’m talking to you, too, America!)

Alright, like I said, North Korea can be it’s own topic. But we’re still moving. From Beijing I took an overnight flight on a budget airline (something I do not recommend and will likely never do again on a long haul) to Kuala Lumpur. It was time to see my boo! Once again reunion with Chris and the following day my friends, known to all of my other friends as the Jaggies, would arrive from (South) Korea!

*In case you’re wondering why we did not meet in North Korea, which would have made a lot more sense logistically, it’s because the South Korean government does not allow its citizens to enter the North due to obvious political/ideological disputes and safety concerns.

The Jaggies and I enjoyed food, drink, shopping, and selfies with Jaggy’s new selkabong. (That’s Korean for selfie-stick.) Highlights from their time include the Batu caves, the Petronas Towers, and the National Mosque. We were instructed to cover ourselves in the latter, which we found a hilarious photo opportunity.

I’m a pretty open-minded person. (At least that’s what all the people on my friends list tell me.) I generally avoid discussions about religion but unfortunately on this occasion was provoked into a (borderline) argument with a man who approached me and started talking about why women should cover themselves. I had previously thought that it was a cultural difference that was none of my business to judge or try to change, my only qualm being that women cover themselves while men do not. On several occasions I have seen women in full burqas walking with a man and children in shorts, polo shirts, and sandals. My stance was that this seemed unfair but this man in the mosque informed me that it is good for women; in fact it is in our best interest to cover our sexy-selves to protect ourselves from the lust of men. My response was that it sounded like the men had a problem and then I boogied because I didn’t think it would be Kosher to have a fight in a place of worship. Malaysia.

I had really wanted to go to the east side of Malaysia and possibly even Borneo for diving and trekking but alas that journey still awaits me. I did make it to a lovely little town called Melacca, though, where I spent a few days chatting with other travelers and getting my fill of the local cuisine. Melacca is unique because it was historically an important port city that served as a gate between Malaysia and the West. It was colonized by Dutch, French, and British but now is a sovereign state in Malaysia. When I called it a charming colonial town Jordan quickly corrected me that imperialism, aka forced cultural absorption, made this city ‘charming’. While I believe he’s right to see colonialism for what it is, I also think that every land has a history and it is interesting to follow the development and see how it became the place it is today. Maybe another blog about colonialism would better suffice.

On the last day I hung out with a friend from KL, Charmaine, whom I’d met in Korea. It’s a small world, you know? We got our fill of naan at our favorite place in little India, I beat Chris at chess just once to leave him with a bad taste in his mouth, and said another tearful goodbye to Malaysia. Jordan and I were off to Vietnam.

We crash-landed in Hanoi (not literally, obviously, but culturally). One thing I’ve learned about traveling this day and age is that we have the world at our fingertips thanks to movies and Google and have therefore become so desensitized by the images we see. For example, I bet all of you have seen a photo (or several) of the heads on Easter Island. I doubt that any of you have ever actually seen them in real life. If and when you do get the chance to see them, the feeling could never compare to that experienced by travelers who preceded you in all the years before cultural permeability became so prevalent. There will probably be a tourist office, a vending machine filled with Coca Cola products and a McDonald’s to boot. More and more places have assume the same characteristics that we are familiar with and life becomes so “been there, done that.” It takes more each time to impress us. This didn’t happen in Hanoi. Even though I had seen numerous photos and read extensively about Vietnam, it managed to fill me with wonder and surprise me every day. (And I didn’t even see a single McDonald’s.)

We got off the bus and pushed ourselves into the frenetic chaos that is Hanoi traffic. Motorbikes and bicycles whizzed past us, ladies in the street pushed us out of their way with their huge poles carrying their wares, men working threatened to injure us with their non-protocol means of doing construction out in the open, and animals looked at us with blasé faces as if they were judging how well we would manage being foreign and all. This was just the beginning. Traffic. Noise. Animals. Humans. Beer. Pho. Traffic. Noise. It was incredible.

One thing that’s great to note about Vietnam is that it’s incredibly cheap. That’s not great for the locals, but it was pretty awesome for me. We stayed in lovely hotels of old French buildings for less than $15 per night. Beer: 50 cents. Food: everything was less than $2US. And I took full advantage of that! I’m kind of a foodie, although my friend Jon Silver told me that I’m NOT, that I just like food. Whatever; I like food. And I LOVE Vietnamese food, so I was in heaven for 3 weeks.

Some memories from Vietnam:

-Halong Bay did not disappoint. We took a 3-day 2-night cruise around the islands, kayaked through caves, saw monkeys, jumped off the boat into the water to our hearts’ content, and watched the stars and crescent moon from the top deck. It was blissful.

-The DMZ and tunnels in Vịnh Mốc. From the bliss of Halong Bay to disgust: It was awful to think about what war has done to this beautiful country. Children continue to die weekly from left-over land mines. War is tragic, and it’s horrific when you’re on one of the sides that contributed to the horrors.

-Renting motorbikes in Huế. We threw ourselves into the chaotic buzz of Vietnamese traffic and lived to tell the tale.

-Train rides through the countryside filled with conversations, books, and chess

-Having a fantastic date night on the street with beer and spring rolls, chatting with the locals

-Seeing a water puppet show – an interesting art unique to Vietnam

And yet another tearful goodbye. It was time to permanently part ways for the remainder of this trip. I was headed west.

I had purchased a multi-city ticket from Bangkok so I decided that a couple of days in Thailand for R&R and some alone time would do me some good. I went straight to Khao San Road (the decadent backpacker hive) and filled myself with pad thai and Singha beer. Got ma hair done/ nails done/ everything did and met up with Desmond, a friend from the North Korean tour who lives in Bangkok. A short but sweet trip. Next stop: Dubai.

For those of you who don’t know, I am an active member on a website called Couch Surfing. It is a way for travelers to connect and share experiences together. Obviously it is a great way to save money but I prefer the cultural exchange aspect of it. When you stay in a hotel you get a pretty sterile experience with all of you comforts from home (and English is always available). When you stay in a hostel you get the backpacker experience and an itinerary that Lonely Planet has already mapped out for you. But when you stay with a Couch Surfer you get a surprise.

In Dubai I was welcomed by Mohsin, an Indian man who has lived in Dubai for 15 years. (The U.A.E. is 90% foreigners, FYI.) His hobbies include camping and desert driving. Luckily for me it was Thursday (Friday is the weekend in many Islamic countries) and he was meeting up with his friends for a camping trip.

Driving through the desert and watching the sunrise over the dunes the next day was one of the coolest things I’ve ever done. Even in our modern society that generates stimulation overload, this was something I wasn’t prepared to experience. This is not a picture of Easter Island and it’s not in Lonely Planet. Mohsin had been doing this for years and was a very skilled driver. In the morning he led a convoy around the desert and showed us all around. Very cool. When you’re in Dubai I suggest you look him up.

In the evening I went with another Couch Surfer, Nadia, to the Burj Kalifa, the tallest building in the world (at the time of this writing but who knows tomorrow). We met Moh, who lives there, and took a little tour. The views of the city at night were stunning. I’d say that in 2 days in Dubai I got my money’s worth.

And it didn’t stop there. Within hours I was in Europe. Istanbul, to be exact. After 5 years immersing myself in Asia it was thrilling to be in a place so very different. Istanbul is such a unique place because it literally straddles Europe and Asia, has thousands of years of history, and is home to a fabulous mixture of people. Again I found myself camping out on someone’s couch, a nice guy named Murat. He lived near Taksim Square, the city center on the European side. I spent my sleepless hours wandering the maze of the city streets. The colors, the sounds, the smells were all invigorating. I came from the sand dunes of the Middle East to this ancient city rich with culture. I had my fill of baklava, kebabs, and beer. In Istanbul I didn’t feel compelled to hit up any particular sights; the streets themselves were a sight on their own and I had fun choosing restaurants and cafes to sample the Turkish delights. Besides the food, labyrinthine streets, and beautiful calls to prayer ringing from the mosques scattered all throughout the city, I will always remember the constant presence of cats when I think back to those days in Istanbul. There were kitties everywhere of all colors and sizes, snoozing in the oddest places and keeping the town rodent-free. Istanbul: possibly the most intriguing city I’ve ever visited. I can’t wait to see the rest of Turkey someday!

Alright: so we’ve gone from East Asia to the Middle East to (technically) Europe. And here is where I would conquer a new continent: South America.

The journey was long and arduous. While Emerite Airlines have nice perks the flight attendants could use a sense of humor. 4 hours to Dubai, a 6-hour layover in the middle of the night, an I-have-no-idea-how-long haul over Africa and the Atlantic, another layover in Rio de Janeiro (where I fell asleep and nearly missed my transfer!), another 2? hour flight to Buenos Aires and I was there. Argentina. Woo-hoo. I was exhausted, unable to change money, and needed to get to a bed at that late hour. I survived, I always do (I know you were worried).

So BA was a monumental trip because I had planned it with my friends sometime last year. Our group calls ourselves “International Thursday” because we used to always hang out on Thursday nights back in my college days. Our common bond was a love for all things foreign: movies, food, lovers, etc. So the International Thursday crew finally had our first international trip all together!

Becca and I both speak Spanish so this was a kind of fun chance to use it. (I say “kind of” because I made a ton of embarrassing errors. Long time no español para mi.) Jon Silver (JS) has been to Buenos multiple times for work and acted as quite the savvy tour guide and certainly held his own ordering for us in restaurants, if I might add. Farris was still practicing, and Diwang successfully asked locals where the bathroom was by the end of the trip. Together we were the dream team of tourists. Five heads are better than one, you know?

We conquered as much as we could in our short time together: San Telmo, Recoleta, La Boca, Steak, Wine, Iguazu Falls, Punta Del Este and the coast of Uraguay, Steak, Frenet, a soccer game (excuse me, fútbol, en la television), Steak, Wine, Empanadas, Tango (kind of), Wine… I’m sure I’m missing something but we did muchas cosas juntos. We drank some wine, too.

It was great seeing everyone, and my friend José whom I met in Korea. He just happened to be visiting his mom in BA at the same time that I was there. As you can see, the world gets smaller.

I spent a happy Thanksgiving in Uruguay eating good food with people I love and couldn’t be more thankful. But good times couldn’t last forever, alas, we had to part ways. I hung out for a couple more days with a Couch Surfer named Juan Mauel whose strong Argentine accent presented a challenge for me … and therefore him, too. Who needs to speak the same language anyway? It’s overrated. We got along great!

I ventured by bus to Puerto Madryn where the female Southern Right Whales had come to have their calves. The bus ride, by the way, was super fancy- first class kind of chairs, meals and wine served, movies, even a BINGO game with a prize! It’s a good thing, too, because it was a 20-hour ride from the capital to Pto. Madryn along a barely-paved highway and scarcely any civilization in between. I’d hate to think what happens when the bus breaks down. The views were great: horses and cattle grazing around, beautiful sunsets and rises, ranches. I arrived in high spirits.

The first thing I did was head to the dive center to sign up for a dive with sea lions. It was a beautiful day and I wouldn’t want to miss that due to inclement weather. I am generally against animal tourism so I want to be clear: the lobos (sea lions) are wild and the eco industries have laws against going onto their island or within 50 meters of it. (50 meters metric). The following day I took the bus to Puerto Pirámides, a town composed of a crossroads, a cliff, and a beach. Here I stayed with a CS guy named Hernán. His home was great- he had built it himself and didn’t ever need to bother locking (or even closing) his door. There was a simple, old-fashioned way of life in this town that I loved (and a lack of wifi that I didn’t).

From there I went to Bariloche, a town in the lake district in the Andes, west Patagonia. The view conjures up feelings of being in the Swiss Alps, and the sky and the water were pristine azure. By this point I was ready to check out and relax but I made a friend in the hostel who convinced me to go to a neighboring town for some hiking. Nicolás and I ventured over to Villa la Angostura, a place I had never heard of before but will never forget. We took a boat to a forest and hiked through, making it back just in time for him to catch the last bus to the airport. He invited me to stay at his place in Mendoza, the next stop on my list, so a few days later I saw him in yet another bus station after yet another 20-hour ride.

Staying with his family was an interesting time, and challenging for me to think and respond in Spanish 24/7. Even his pet parrot was talking to me in Spanish. It was exhausting, but I also had a memorable, authentic experience with the locals of Mendoza. I got to see what they do for fun, and although it is a big city there’s still very much a small-town feel.

Another goodbye, another bus, this one to the border. The views driving through the Andes were spectacular, and I would recommend anyone given the choice to resist the urge to fly. It is summer here so fortunately the roads were not as treacherous as they could be. There were times when I looked out the window and saw steep, rocky drops that I’d rather not think about, but I was too excited to be nervous.

Once in Valparaiso, a coastal city north of Santiago, I found a restaurant with the two things I needed most: food and wifi. I was able to alert my loved ones to the fact that I was alive and in Chile and stuff my face with greasy Chilean meat and potatoes. (A quick note: I don’t think my mom would have survived this journey of mine if not for the presence of wifi this year of 2014. How did we live before instant global communication?) From there I found a bed and crashed. I stayed for two days, resting and walking. By now I was tired and not so fired up to go sightseeing or swim with the local marine life. Honestly, I was ready to get back to the States.

I made my way to Santiago, the capital, to stay with a CS girl named Pia who opened her home to me. With her I walked around, saw the sights, learned a bit about Chilean culture, and ate Asian food. Yea, I was jones-ing for some sushi and stir-fry and was excited to have a partner in that crime- the crime of not eating the local delicacies of the country I had come all this way to visit. All in all it was a great time but Santiago was crowded and gearing up for Christmas and I was ready for home.

Which brings me to now. I started this blog post in Pia’s apartment in the Southern Hemisphere on Tuesday night. I am finishing it from my cousins’ house in San Francisco, California, USA, 6,000 miles away. (4.8bil km) It is winter here, and rainy. Inside I am warm and happy, with a Christmas tree behind me and the chatter of my nephews getting ready for school ringing in my ears. I feel home.

I already got some slack from my cousin Tony for the way I talk and probably look like a hippie even by California standards. But I am home, and I have come to the end of my journey. Almost. I still have one more flight on the itinerary and that is to Atlanta on Christmas Eve. My family can count on me to be there this time, and I’m looking forward to the family-recipe coffee cake, seeing my dog Sam, and hanging around the table shooting the breeze with everyone.

Even though I am here I still feel a sense of movement. The journey never really ends, does it? I have a plan to visit Jordan in Iowa, ideas about an MBA in Spain, and a bunch of places and friends I can’t wait to revisit and hundreds of more yet to be discovered. To be cliché, life is about the journey, not the destination, right? Or rather, life is a string of destinations linked together with journeys. All of my destinations led me to another place, and I don’t ever see myself staying put for too long. Thanks for sharing the journey with me, and please join me again- either through the Interwebs or we could actually go somewhere together! I wander, and I’m not lost. Just enjoying life. Merry Christmas.