The Fear of the Unknown

Almost to a man (and woman), the first thing people ask when I say, "New Zealand," is "why?"

Sitting here the night before the trip, I think ahead to what a four hour flight to L.A., followed by an eight hour layover, then a 12 hour flight to Auckland will do to my sense of adventure. To my body odor. To my general distaste for people. But I then force my mind to jump back into my Lonely Planet: New Zealand and I begin to believe again that I HAVE to do this.

Why New Zealand? Because it's probably one of the few places that people who have travelled the world HAVEN'T been to. Because the landscape is breathtaking. Because the people are nice. Because I'm American and don't want to have to communicate in anything other than English. Ha. Because it's the adventure capital of the world. There are literally dozens of different things that you can do to risk life and limb and live to tell (or blog) about it. Because the evil Sauron was defeated so it's safe for me to go. Because I have to get out of my comfort zone. Doing so is one of the few ways that I can actually learn something about myself. I'm not talking about Seven Years in Tibet self-awareness; simply, little things about flexibility that I can use later on when I want to commit an act of road-rage.

I don't know what I'll be doing in terms of a job, to answer your question (see my parents hyperventilate, see them reaching for brown paper bag). Not yet. I won't know a soul when I get there. I'm anxious, nervous, scared, excited, and hopeful. I imagine it's like going to the Prom. With a blind date who is "outgoing with a nice personality."

People tell me that I'm courageous because I don't have any plans once I arrive (besides finding a job--see parents calming down). For me, however, courage should be reserved for acts of selflessness, because it's so easy to be selfish in a world (or country) designed increasingly to satisfy our demands for convenience with every transient desire. I'm not courageous. What I am, if you ask my parents, is demented. Or lost. One of the two. Probably more the latter than the former. But I'm really not lost, either. I know what I want, and what I want is to see, to explore, to experience...in short, to live. For some, that means picking the kids up at school and driving through traffic to get home for dinner. For others, it means flying to the other side of the world.

Life is about timing. And this chapter in mine needs to be written NOW, if for no other reason than the fact that I have outstanding warrants for my arrest and I need to leave the country immediately.

Just kidding.

(The real question would be: what would your friends' warrants be for?)

I'm off to bed. It's going to be a long day tomorrow. I'll be in touch from the other side of the unknown.

I can't wait.

CT