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Wow.

I don’t know what to title this entry because I am so totally overwhelmed by this experience and my emotions. The past week has been a microcosm of sorts for what I anticipate this experience will be. Caroline, Elana, and I have been through a spectrum of emotions and physical states and are trying to carve out the future of this adventure as best as we can. It is, however, difficult to plan an adventure with no end date in mind, with no itinerary—to create a plan with no plan. I guess that is the challenging part of this for me. Even though this blog is entitled, “No Plan, No Problem,” well, not having a plan IS a problem for someone of the likes of me. I love structure, I crave itineraries. It assuages my anxiety and helps me feel like I have a purpose, like I’m doing something productive in the world. The past week has been totally devoid of such plans, of such feelings of purpose—which is one of the many reasons that perhaps I feel so out of place.

It is ninety degrees here and my body is covered in sweat, sunscreen, and bug spray (so attractive, I know). I spent the last night violently throwing up, alternating with Elana in our cockroach ridden bathroom. Yet, this place is one of the most beautiful places in the world, and I step out onto the beach, totally awed and amazed and feeling frankly pretty crappy about complaining. I guess what I am most reacting to is this feeling of intense vulnerability. I feel totally out of my element, being in this foreign part of the world that speaks a language I don’t, that breathes air I’m not used to, that eats food that gives me problems in the middle of the night (to put it mildly…). I am totally terrified of bugs. SO TERRIFIED. I used to be afraid of ladybugs…and the other day we saw what was undoubtedly a poisonous black and yellow spider that was, without exaggeration, the size of my face.

I think in trying to not have a plan, I subconsciously tried to create one out of its nothingness. I set a time frame for myself (a vague one, but even that has led to expectations), organized places that we wanted to volunteer at, and applied for jobs for my return. But nothing has worked out the way I planned, or tried not to plan, or planned nothing at all. Our time frame is totally different, and after a breakdown this morning at an internet café after discovering that the hippie organic commune “won’t be a good fit,” I had thoughts about coming home in a plane tomorrow with a british girl we met. But that would totally defeat my purpose for the trip—my purpose of further exploring myself and discovering the world and meeting amazing people. No, I’m not giving up. But I’d be lying if I said that this wasn’t hard. Not feeling well, still jetlagged, homesick, and concerned about my place in the universe add up to create a feeling of paralyzed overwhemedness (I don’t know if that’s a word, but I’m going to use it). Caroline and Elana bought me this cute little Asian-cartooned journal so I could write some of my thoughts and hope to assuage some of my concerns about life, and I started doing that last night before I got sick. I know that this is the right thing for me to be doing. There was nothing I was more sure of, that this was what was supposed to be happening. But now that I’m doing it and struggling in it, it doesn’t seem as clear cut. But then again, life isn’t.

My grandfather died the other day. He has been sick for a long time now. He started going downhill well over a year ago, and we thought he would have passed long before he did. I feel so awful for feeling so sorry for myself and for complaining when my mom has just lost both of her parents in the same year.  I feel so awful for complaining as I’m having an experience that many people would kill to have. I feel so awful for not being there with my mom as she has to deal with losing yet another person she loves. I am grappling with feelings of such intense vulnerability as I realize that we are not invincible, that we do not live forever, that we will inevitably lose the people we love. I prayed for him in Wat Pho, this beautiful temple of a golden Buddha who is peacefully reclining. I hope that my grandfather went in peace and that he is in a better place now, wherever that is.

To my beautiful family, I love you so. To my aunts, uncle, and mother, who just lost their other parent, my heart goes out to you.

With deepest peace-- even amidst fragility and uncertainty-- and always with love,

A