It’s been a rough last three days. Starting with the arrival back to Quito from the Amazon rain forest. Funny thing about Ecuador. You pretty much have to go through Quito to get to any other place in the country. The middle of the country is all mountainous and not fun at all to travel. So hot and humid meets cold and damp. A quick check into to my hostel [in the sketchy part of town] to drop off my stuff and off to the mall to buy supplies for the next part of the journey [mainly rubber working boots]. At 9p, a quick bite of pizza, and a [very short] slumber, I am off again…
A bonanza of modes of transportation in one day, and me with my giant backpack, little backpack, and plastic shopping bag with my rubber boots. Up at 3:30A to leave the Mindo cloud forest for the coast. Caught the early bus to Quito. Arrive in Quito and transfer to the trole station so that I can get to the OTHER bus terminal where the bus to the coast leave from. At 5:45am I am on the electric trole that runs through downtown Quito stopping every 200 feet or so to pick up more people.
Three troles later, I arrive in Quitumbe terminal to wait for the bus to Pedernales. The bus to Pedernales is a regular bus which is great beacause we are decsending through the Andes montains. Brakes are a good thing to have when you are decending from 10,000 ft all the way to sea level. At Pedernales, I transfer to a local bus–much less comfortable and much more crowded–so crowded in fact that I can’t get off at my stop and it takes 1km before I can get the driver to stop so that I can get off. Luckily for me a very nice girl offered to bring me back to my stop on her moto-bike. So its her doing the driving and me with my two backpacks and sack on the road. I’m sure it was a funny sight to see. Amazingly enough, we did not crash and I safely made it to the welcome center of the forest where I´ll be for the two weeks or so.
Some of the highlights of my new lodgings:
What they call it: Ecological toilet What it actually is: an out house–A very large hole in the ground with a toilet seat attached to a built up concrete platform. [outhouses still freak me out due to a very close call I had in one as a child involving a snake and a very full bladder]
What they call it: Environmental shower What it actually is: a hose hanging from the ‘ventilated’ building using rain collected from the rainy season [Yes, it is cold]
What they call it: Candlelit evenings What it actually is: citronella chic because the mosquitoes will eat you alive and take your bloody carcass to their lair [This province hasn’t had a single documented case of malaria in YEARS, but I still plan douse myself in 80% DEET when I am in the woods. Wait, what am I talking about, I’ll be living in the woods]
What they call it: no electricity What it actually is: no electricity– the house is constructed from bamboo so there are gaps in the walls, the roof is tin and palm thatches, also gaps in it, and birds and things can just fly through. Glad to have the mosquito nets, and glad that the cabin is elevated off of the ground.
This is the meaning of roughing it?
But in exchange I get 3 meals a day, a bed with mosquito nets, and a chance to do conservation education in a place that is just starting its conservation efforts. And I found out today that there is the chance that I will be able to go to the Galapogas Islands for a week for next to nothing–which would be awesome because tours to the islands are around $1000, which is definitely not in the budget.
2018 Michelle checking in here: The electric shower is a scary occurrence in several areas of central/south America. One one hand, I’m grateful for hot, flowing water; on the other hand, I was seriously scared for my life. BUT figuring out how to work this calamity was one of my greater travel achievements. I don’t think there will be electric showers in Rwanda, but if there are, it’s OK. I’ve figured that out once before.
Either this was such a traumatic experience for me before that I’ve put it out of my memory or this is some Colombian designed torture device; this is what greeted me the morning after my arrival to Bogotá.
It’s a large electrical time bomb hanging above my head; luckily all the ends of the electrical wires were covered in electrical tape. I have since found out that this is not always true nor is this device confined to Colombia.
5 steps to surviving an electric shower
Is it high enough so that you will not hit your head? I’ve had problems with showers before that were mounted for people no taller than 5 feet tall. Luckily, all the electrical showers I’ve encountered are way up there out of the way of an errant splash.
Are there any bare wires that could come in contact with water? Did you bring electrical tape? If not, a wash cloth and the sink might be the best option.
Get naked. Do your thing, and get out. If you have rubber soled sandals, wear them. This is not the time to reminisce about the day. Chances are the water won’t be at optimum temperature anyway. The only way I’ve found to control the temperature of the water is to control the flow of the water. There’s a science-y explanation for this but essentially the water needs time to roll through the metal plumbing to heat it up before it before comes out. So you can have warm water flowing like maple syrup in winter or cold water flowing like a fire hydrant. But not both. Your choice.
If the pop off valve does indeed pop off– DO. NOT. SCREAM. Like I did the first time this happened to me. Uninvited visitors will show up and cause some slight embarrassment. It is supposed to keep water from spraying up into the wires which could save your life,. However, I have found that they just pop off whenever they feel like it.
Yay! You are clean, but also soaking wet. How to turn off the faucet? You will only reach for the metal knobs once before muscle memory kicks in and you will remember why you never want to do in again. Nobody in these parts have ever heard of grounding wires. My suggestion is to have a small towel–hand towel sized–that you use for turning off the knobs.
No need to fear the electrical, non-grounded shower. I, like several before me have survived; you can survive it too.
–a conversation that occurred in Medellin bar in August, 2010.
A Bar is a unique place
Colombia is a beautiful country. The Andes Mountains, the Amazon jungle, the Cocora valley are all amazing. In addition to the natural beauty, Colombia has beautiful people. Some of them are naturally beautiful and some of them–well, they have a little help. The plastic surgeons in Colombia do a fantastic job. Medellin is my third stop in Colombia. It is kind of like Goldilocks and the 3 bears. The weather in Bogota was too cold. The weather in Leticia was too hot, but the weather in Medellin is just right. The days are warm and the nights are cool. It feels like fall. [or spring]
A funny thing happened at a bar last night. I went out with some English/Australian guys that were staying in the same hostels (We had actually met on the cable car that goes to the top of the city.) So at some point during the evening after an indeterminate number of drinks, in an unidentified bar, a conversation much like the following took place:
Guy 1: “Are those real?” (referring to boobs, but not mine of course)
Me: “Nope. No way”.
Guy 2: “Yeah. I reckon. You can tell the difference.”
Guy 1: “Aha ha. I agree. Definite difference in shape.”
Me: “Yeah. But there’s no way that they could be real.
Guy 2: Compare hers (Colombian chic) to hers (mine). Definite extra perkiness. No offense” (referring to Colombian chic)
Guy 1: “I’m still not convinced. They’re too good to be real.”
Me: “Why don’t you just ask her?”
Guy 1: “Huh?”
Guy 2: “What?”
Me: “Just ask her”
Guy 1: “That would be funny.”
Me: “Yeah. Go on. Or I will.”
Guy 2: “I don’t know. That’s pretty random. Imagine if someone came up to you and…”
Me: “C’mon’. It’s the only way to settle it. Fuck it. I’ll do it…”
So somewhere, in the night, after an indeterminate number of drinks plus a few more, in the same unidentified bar, another conversation, much like the following, took place:
Guy 1: “What the fuck did you touch them for?”
Me: “She said I could.”
Guy 1: “And so you just grabbed them?”
Guy 2: “And?”
Guy 1: “Definitely? Did she say so?”
Guy 2: “What did she say exactly?”
Me: “They’re real. Good hmm?
Guy 2: “In English?”
Me: “In English.”
Guy 2: “Fuck off”
Me : You know, that’s the first time I’ve ever touched a pair of boobs other than my own…
These are definitely fake
Conversations similar to the above are, probably, not uncommon in Medellin. It is, apparently, the plastic surgery capital of the world in a country that is probably the most plastic surgerized in the world. Or at least close to. Such a place has a significant reputation to live up to. However, Medellin does it with aplomb, cosmetic surgical intervention striking you anywhere you turn. Seriously, fake boobs are everywhere. They are more normal than natural boobs. If you don’t have them, you’re the odd one out. Old woman have them. Girls far younger than the legal drinking age have them. Yes, I even saw a cat that had them (this may or may not be true). I read somewhere, but I now don’t recall where, that the prevalence of silicon in Medellin is largely due to Medellin’s former status as the center of the world cocaine trade. Don’t ask me why that means fake boobs all over the place – I guess drug lords liked them big. In any event, the reality remains, and it is one scary, bouncy and far too perky reality.
The same can be said for the fellas
The theory attributing Medellin’s curvaciousness to the drug lords is a popular one. However, my own personal theory is that the female of residents of Medellin are paying homage to the great Colombian artist, Fernando Botero.
Medellin born and Medellin raised, Botero’s sculptures dominate the public artistic landscape of central Medellin, his ludicrously proportioned, voluptuous and humorous bronze figures in the Plaza Botero in particular a highlight. If you are not familiar with Botero’s work, I can probably sum it up for you in a single word – fat. Not ‘ph’ fat. Just plain old ‘fat’. Like everything being seen through one of those crazy mirrors that makes everything look fat. Not ‘ph’ fat. Just plain old lazy bastard fat. Having viewed a reasonably large collection of his work in Bogota, it’s clear to me that his work is at its most impressive in sculpture – the central focus of his work, the roundedness aka ‘fat’, most effective and striking when experienced in three dimensions. Fat. Not ‘ph’ fat. Just good old ‘if it sits on you it’s going to hurt’ fat.
I’ll be the first to admit it: Bogotá was not high on my list of ‘places to visit’, but Colombia’s capital city is a study in contrasts. On one side there is the ultra-modern skyscrapers and modern architecture. On the other side, there are wide, colonial, pedestrian-only plazas dripping with sun and shade trees. Couples cuddle up on benches while kids chase birds on the pavement. If I didn’t know any better, I’d never associate what I’ve experienced in the last few days with the gritty, drug-infested crime haven. Instead Bogotá is as safe as any other city of nearly 10 million people. It’s leaders are forward-thinking and global adventurers definitely have the city on their radar.
If you only have 2 days in Bogotá, know that it’s not enough, but there are some sights need to experience.
Bogotá has a rich colonial history, but is focusing on the future; it is a fascinating place to be right now. And it’s much bigger than you might think! The city dwarfs most American and European cities.
Know before you go
Flights: Avianca Airlines provides some of the best direct flight options into Bogotá from the US and Europe.
Getting to Town: El Dorado Airport is about nine miles west of the city center. You can grab an official airport taxi (yellow and white) for the quickest ride into town– taking around 30 minutes and costing around 15,000 Colombian pesos (about $6 USD). The airport is also served by public transportation, but unless you know exactly where you are going, I’d save the public transport for the return
Language: The official language is Spanish.
Currency: 1 USD, = about 2500 COP
Credit Cards and Banks: Credit cards are widely accepted throughout Bogotá, but I’d recommend taking out cash from local ATM’s if you plan to so some shopping in the markets. For safety, be sure to use a secure ATM located inside a bank. This applies to just about anywhere.
Climate: March is the hottest month in Bogotá with an average temperature around 70°F and the coldest is December at 55°F. The climate is very warm and tropical, with a rainy season from May to November, and October wettest on average.
Day One in Bogotá
For your first day in Bogotá, I’d recommend sticking to one area in order to make the most of your time here and that area is La Candelaria–a neighborhood that has most of the museums and interesting architecture. La Canderlaria is what would be considered ‘old town’ in most other cities. Stay in this neighborhood the entire day [some think it’s sketchy at night, but I stayed in this neighborhood and had no problems. Of course, when I travel solo, I’m almost always in my room by 9p, and this was no expection]
The Gold Museum
Everyone knows that I am a history nerd and while I did my senior thesis on Mayan Art and Architecture, I studied a lot of Pre-Columbian art and architecture. So for my fellow history nerds out there, this museum is history come to life. It has been existence for 80+ years and is one of the better museums not focusing on art. The museum is probably Colombia’s most visited museum and has more than 55,000 gold artifacts from Pre-Columbian days. The guides do an excellent job of not only explaining the history and evolution, but where the artifacts were found and what they represent. Rather than focusing exclusively on gold [which I imagine could get quite boring], it focused on metallurgy as a component of mankind’s evolution. The detail to which the guides get in can be pretty intense, but even if you are here for the bling, there’s something for everyone. Oh, and it’s heavily guarded; it’s easily the safest place in Colombia.
Eat Lunch at La Puerta Falsa
One you’ve worked up an appetite, grab some traditional Colombian fare at La Puerta Falsa. The restaurant was established has in 1816 and is one of the most famous, authentic places to eat in Bogotá. The name of the restaurant translates to ‘the false door’ and it’s so-named because the church across the street once had fake exterior doors built to throw off any potential attacks on the city. The place is tiny and so is the menu, but it’s full of history and traditional charm. There are only two items on the lunch menu: tamales or ajiaco soup. I definitely recommend the ajiaco.
The Botero Museum
After lunch, head over to the Botero Museum which features the art of Colombia native, Fernando Botero. Even if you aren’t big on ‘fancy art’, you should still check out the Botero Museum. Botero’s art consist of paintings and sculpture, but the uniting theme of of all his subject is their size. You see, Botero is known for his, ummmm, shall we say, curvy models.
Take a free walking tour
After checking out the museums, it’s time to be outside [if the weather is cooperating]. Like many cities, Bogotá has free walking tours.[They even have themed tours: graffiti tours, coffee tours, historic tours, ect...] If you’re short on time or want an easy way to see the key attractions and important sites, a free walking tour is the answer. Sign up with a group, or create your own route and go alone. The main touristy spots are pretty safe during the day.
Going the independent route has some key advantages, mainly being able to stop where you want, when you want. Should a food vendor entice you, no worries, stop for a little snack. La Candelaria is easily the best neighborhood for exploring, either on your own or with a group. The ‘hood blends Spanish colonial, art deco and Baroque architecture and there’s a vendor on nearly every corner.
Plaza de Bolivar
La Plaza de Bolivar is one of Bogotá’s most iconic sites. It is surrounded by incredible architecture and is a favorite among nearly everyone. Including the birds. The 1000’s of birds that descend on the square looking for free handouts. Feed them or not, but it’s nearly impossible to avoid the birds.
On your second day, be sure to climb to the top of the city and mix with the locals for insight into life in Colombia’s capital!
No matter where you are in the city, you can see the iconic Monserrate Mountain. A Colombian spiritual and cultural symbol, this must-see attraction is something you’ll want to spend the morning taking in. Ride the funicular or the cable car up the mountain for a panoramic view of Bogotá and beyond.
Cerro de Monserrate rises majestically from Bogotá’s downtown area and dominates the city’s landscape at a height of over 3,000 metres. Going to the top for a view over the sprawling urban jungle below is one of the best things to do in Bogotá.
Depending on the time of day, you can either ride the funicular railway to the top or take the ‘teleférico’ (cable car), which is what I did. Apparently, the cable car offers better views.
The cable car operates from Monday to Sunday and costs up to 20,000 COP (£5) for a return journey – but it’s cheaper on Sundays.The funicular railway runs from Tuesday to Sunday and costs the same, and is open on holidays, unlike the cable car. Of course, you can also tackle the one-hour hike to the top if you’re feeling energetic (I wasn’t).
Look out for pilgrims crawling up on their knees!
Do you have 3 or 4 days? You can add on these amazing experiences. 4 days is still not enough time to experience Bogota, but it certainly is a good start
Ok, I’ll admit it: I was not enthusiastic when my flight to Maricaibo was canceled and Bogotá became my first stop in South America. I planned to skipped the Colombian capital altogether and I was not at all excited to visit Bogotá. In hindsight, Bogotá most definitely was a better [and probably safer] introduction to South America than Maricaibo.
My original plans were to skip Bogotá because I had read so many horror stories of muggings and I hadn’t found any articles in which people were raving about the city. It seemed like most people were rushing through Bogotá, hitting up the most important museums, using it as a transit stop and moving on quickly to the next place, whatever that place may be.
Part of the reason for choosing South America was that, in theory, I speak Spanish fluently, or at least I did 10 years ago. I’m feeling a little isolated since I am trying to not speak English unless it is absolutely necessary, but today that changed. Not that I magically became fluent overnight, but it is coming back to me, especially if the person with whom I am speaking speaks slowly (for Spanish).
For example, today I took the Transmileno to the other side of Bogotá for no reason than to see another part of the city.
On the return trip, I had conversation with an elderly gentleman who sat next to me. It was nothing serious, weather, I’m new in town, ect, but it was a chance to practice Spanish with someone who didn’t speak crazy fast. I’m feeling a little more confident. After successfully ordering lunch [3 courses $5500 COP ~3.25], I stopped in the frutería. Fruiteria = a store only for fruit… these are some of the things I love about being away–I’d never get that in the USA. I only wanted to get a few snacks for the road, but I was talked into a fruit salad. Nothing like I’ve ever had. It included mango, papaya, pear, banana, and a couple other fruits I have never seen before. Before leaving, I ask the fruit man Que es esto? esto y esto, and very patiently he shows me all the fruits in the store, both in the natural state and the cut up state. So while my fruit salad was only slightly less than lunch, the education about fruit was worth the $2.75 price tag.
Bogotá is a city of more than 8 million people, and I am not a big-city person, but as if often the case, big cities are full of fascinating history and people. I arrived at El Dorado airport at 2a, a full one day + 18 hours after my intended arrival time. I just wanted to get into a bed as quickly as possible. So I took a taxi, which I hate, to my hostel in Candelaria, where I promptly crashed for a few hours.
The next morning, I started to explore the city, and I noticed two things right away: the altitude [O.M.G breathing is so hard] and the thick layer of gray clouds that hover over the city on most days. The altitude – Bogotá sits at 8,675 feet– caused me to huff and puff my way up and down Candelaria’s steep streets like a chain-smoking asthmatic; I never got used to it during my two weeks in the city. Bogotá is not exactly warm; I can see why it’s off the radar with most travelers – especially when you were coming from sea level, tropical temperatures and perfect weather.
I joined a few of the free walking tours during my stay; they are excellent for getting bearings straight in a new city, finding out a few more details about the city, places to hit up, and adressing safety concerns. They are also good for traveling by yourself but having saftey in numbers.
Bogotá blew my mind as an interesting destination and I was always a little bit happy when I had to return to the city for various reasons. Stay tuned for more posts about Bogotá, and how it beyond exceeded my expectations and really got me excited for traveling again.
Sometimes I’m really impulsive. Although this ‘decision’ was a big one, even for me
The ink isn’t even dry on my diploma yet in exactly 21 days I will celebrate my last day of work for the foreseeable future and leave the only area I’ve ever called home. It hasn’t quite sunk in the enormity of the decision I made, only in March, to pack up my stuff and head to South America. As far as spontaneous decisions go, this was a big one. Most people save up for months or years to do something like this. Me, I find a cheap plane ticket, hit ‘buy now’, and figure out the details later. Who does that?
I’m at somewhat of a cross roads… finished with my degree yet not sure which path to pursue: medicine as a physician, medicine as a physician’s assistant, or nurse practitioner; I just know that my current career, while somewhat steady, doesn’t bring me the intellectual stimulation I need in order to be truly satisfied in life.
These scrubs and this job will be put on hold for a while.
I begin June with the absolutely incredible knowledge that while I really have no clue what the next year holds for me, I do know it doesn’t involve 12 (or more!) hour shifts or working every single holiday. I was talking to my best friend last night and he pointed out that 3 weeks from this very moment, I’ll be on another continent… not quite halfway around the world, but still not quite the ability to jump in the car and meet up. It still doesn’t seem real; I still have shifts at the hospital to work, visas to get, vaccines to obtain. I don’t know that the reality of it will really hit until I am on the plane in Charlotte headed for Cacaras. Lots to do between now and then and I have a feeling the next few weeks are going to pull me along by the seat of my pants.
Last time I went away, I was studying and hanging out with these stone guys
An older post, from my private journal about my very first day night on the job right before I moved to Durham, NC for my ‘first’ adult job. 5 year ago. Also, it was the last time I did something ‘crazy, and unexpected’. Somehow, that was considered ‘responsible’ while taking some time off to explore seems ‘careless’. I’ve done a bit more research and decided that I am going to try to visit all 13 countries on the South American continent. I’ve been in touch with some volunteer outfits that will allow me to stay for free if I agree to work a certain amount of time each day. Win-win. My current plan–if you can call it that–is to arrive in Caracas, skedaddle on over to Colombia as quickly as possible, follow my way down the Pacific coast all the way down to the Beagle Channel, scoot back up the Atlantic coast, and hit the interior where it makes sense. I’ve currently got applications for a Bolivian and Brazilian visas in the works and for the rest of it, I’ll figure out things as I go along. I leave in 2 months; let’s get packing.
Reality is the first night on the job.
I have had a license to practice respiratory care in South Carolina for a whopping 8 days, and here I sit, at the hospital on a Saturday night, working. I am the only respiratory therapist in the building. God help us all if there in an EMERGENCY tonight. I am working with my favorite hospitalist, so that helps.
You know, I have never moved. I’ve done a lot of shuffling back and forth between here and there, but I have spent my entire life essentially within a 50 mile radius. (You know, other than when I lived in Mexico or spent the summer in UK) I am beyond nervous, somewhat excited, and generally hopeful that I haven’t committed a major fuck-up. My biggest fear is that I won’t be good enough or smart enough to handle taking care of actual sick people.
Here’s the thing… even though I worked at Hillcrest almost the entire time I was in school, spent time in ER and ICU, I can still count on my fingers the number of bona-fide emergencies I’ve been involved in because Hillcrest is a place for the not-well or those recovering from surgery. It is not a place for the actually dying or people in actual emergencies. There just not the equipment or sheer number of people needed to participated in a real life-or-death situation.
And I am going to work in a hospital with a Level 1 trauma center, a level 3 NICU, and very large PICU, and while I don’t know where I’ll eventually end up, I chose, I chose, PICU, NICU, and ER as my top 3 choices of where I’d like to work.
The reality of what I’ve done is starting to set in. I’ve packed up a month’s worth of clothes, a few books, my laptop, a sleeping bag, my kick-ass stereo that goes with me everywhere, and a sense of adventure. In the morning, after working a 12-hour shift, I’m moving to Durham, North Carolina where for a least the next year, I’ll be participating in a pilot residency program for newly graduated respiratory therapists. I’ve left Shadow, Spot, all my friends, and all the bad memories of the last few months behind.
And later that day…after driving 272 miles, crashing for a few hours in my sleeping bag in a hammock on the screened-in porch, and unpacking my paltry amount of possessions…
I’m living in a roughly 8 x 15 cement cinder block room in the basement of a rather large house. It’s double the size of a jail cell, slightly smaller than a dorm room. I have a minuscule closet, a wall full of wooden built-ins, and an old parquet floor. It looks like a hallway and furniture arrangement is going to take some, um, creativity. Lighting is awful; I have those old, tube fluorescent lights, and the tiniest of windows which I can’t even open. My guess is that it’s not a ‘legal’ bedroom, but whatevs, it’s cheap, and close to the hospital where I’ll be working.
The bathroom beside my room has clearly seen better days. It has a stand-up shower, a pedestal sink, and a toilet. The minimum. Rent is $282.50/month… which hopefully after a month or so of settling in, I can begin to save up money, pay off student loans, and finally take a vacation. I don’t even have a bed yet. I report to work at promptly 8:30am. It’s too late to turn back now. This is my new reality.
So I did a thing… well two things really if you count one of them as this blog. Well, three if you count having a milestone birthday… which I did today. The thing about milestone birthdays, at least for me, are indications that I should re-evaluate my life and see if I am on the path I want to be on. And while I love my job, it is not a job I want to be doing for the next 35 years. So here I am, re-evaluating my life’s plan.
Milestone birthdays–not just markers of time…
Adventure Adikt*, is my blog 2.0. I wasn’t really sure what to do with this re-incarnation of the blog. I started blogging way back in 2005 as a way to process my feelings about life and death, love and loss, endings and beginnings, and whatever else life was throwing at me. Back then, I’d just graduated college, moved to a new city, started my first job in healthcare working with teeny tiny babies and really sick children. I processed all those changes by writing. And traveling.
But I wasn’t ready to release those thoughts into the blog-o-sphere. So I blogged for me. It was essentially an on-line [but private] journal.
So here it is, a few years later. I’m still in healthcare. I have moved back to South Carolina. I want to buy a fixer-upper. Grad school is in my future although I still can’t decide between physician, physician assistant, or nurse practitioner, so until I do, I’m going to keep plugging along. And traveling. A lot. And writint to process my feelings.
In order to to avert my impending mid (?)-life crisis, I’ve decided to go public for the first time ever. I love my job. I love learning languages. I love history, the history of places, and the history of things. I love science–what it is now and what it used to be.
In a nutshell, my ‘new’, reformatted blog is a [very] vaguely chronological timeline of life events, travel, and mishaps along with some life lessons and musings thrown in for fun. Life is life. Adventure is still adventure, and wanderlust is still wanderlust; I’m trying to find new ways of having a bit of each in my every day.
The ‘other news’
While opening up the blog to the public is one attempt to stave off the potential mid life crisis, some may say I’m already in full blown crisis mode. Earlier today, as I am prone to do when I’m bored, I was surfing the ‘net for airline deals. And I came across a steal. Without truly thinking things all the way through, I jumped on it. I found a one-way flight from Charlotte to Caracas for $99. I bought it. Have I ever been to Venezuela? No. Have I ever even wanted to go to Venezuela? Not particularly. But I studied their history while in college. I speak the language. And I really do want to see Angel Falls. What else will I do? Who knows? Where will I stay? Not sure. Will I be kidnapped by narco-terrorists? I certainly hope not. And the big one– When will I come back? I’m not sure. Maybe I’ll hate it and only be gone a week. Maybe I’ll love it and try to figure out a way to stay permanently. Who knows? But follow along and see how this little adventure plays out.
I turned 24 today. It’s a big milestone. I’ve always thought of mid 20’s as adults. I am nowhere near ready to be an adult. And truthfully, I’m freaking out just a bit.
*Why Adventure Adikt? I went through a lot of names [A Traveler Rests was one of them] before I decided on this one. Somehow, it just fit. And I like the word adikt better than the word junkie. I seek out adventure–in all ways, traveling to foreign countries to explore history and culture, hiking in my back yard and across the country, trying out new recipes in the kitchen, and life in general. My goal is to never stop learning and never stop adventuring… just never stop.
Hi, I’m Michelle and this is my own little corner of the interwebs where I write, share photos, and interact with others in the blog-o-shpere. So in addition to that–Who am I? I am –in one way or another– the following: hiker + backpacker + swimmer + pediatric respiratory therapist + registered nurse + avid traveler + cat parent + gardener + photographer + medical science junkie + adventure-seeker + DIY enthusiast + voracious reader + history and science nerd + football fanatic + aging athlete + wannabe chef + trying not to succumb to the trappings of a 9-5 life. And beginning in 2018, a Peace Corps Volunteer in Rwanda.
Everyday life doesn’t have to be routine. Anyone can do just about anything he or she wants to do– sometimes one has to find creative ways in doing it. Sometimes one has to tear down the barriers that might stopping them. Everyday is an opportunity to choose your own adventure. That is what I ultimately write about.