I'm 25 years old. I've been living out of a backpack for 3, going on 4 years now. I have no home. I have no husband. I have no children. OK let's be honest...I have no boyfriend. I have no steady income, no steady work. I have no car, no rent, no mortgages, no insurance.
I have absolutely NO ROUTINE in my life.
What I do have is: a loving family, friends (literally few and far between), a healthy fear of death and taxes, a fully stamped passport, a rugged pair of jeans (maybe more holes than jean these days), a trusty pair of Keens, and enough stories to fill a book...Hopefully, my book someday.
If I have anything worth sharing, Mon Dieu, it's the stories I've accumulated these past years!
Family-- a mother's influence:
I come from a successful family: Mom, Dad and two loving older brothers. Mom's a teacher and Dad's a biologist. Mom was raised in Mexico, and even today she's a force of energy, charisma, and life, despite the grey hairs sneaking up on her. Dad's the strong, silent type. A man of few words, but whose love I never doubted when I was growing up. Mom and I have your typical mother/daughter relationship---full of drama, screaming, and intense bonding. Dad and I however, share our favorite moments together sitting quietly on the porch, with a beer and a good book.
I guess this is all in the past now. I haven't been in the company of my parents for more than a few weeks at a time in many years. Nonetheless, the precious weeks we do spend together each year always mean the world to me.
Mom came from a wealthy family. She grew up in a truly foreign environment---a world of chauffeurs, servants, maids, fancy cars, dinner parties, balls, and social etiquette. Dare I say it, she grew up upper class! Her family was a success story for Mexicans, to be honest one I don't know a whole lot about, since shame of all shames me and my brothers never properly learned to speak Spanish. Talk about a barrier when you're trying to get to know your primos and tios!
Mom grew up in a world where propriety and social protocol meant everything, and to this day she maintains some of that...but for the most part she left it all behind when she decided to be free.
Coming from a world where everything could have been handed to her on a silver platter (or better yet that perfect porcelain China) she risked it all in search of something new. Growing up in the desert, she took off one day, in a car on her own. She hit the beaches of South Miami and fell in love with the water.
Dad was a marine biologist who grew up in Staten Island. After being stationed in Alaska during the Vietnam War (huh?) he decided he had enough of the frigid cold and that he preferred scuba diving for work in warmer climates. In the end, it was my parents' love for the ocean which inevitably brought them together. When Mom and Dad met, he swept her off her feet and convinced her to run away with him.
Dad was bound for duty with the Peace Corps soon after they met. He was being called to Africa for a minimum of 2 years. Risking it all, my mother took the ultimate leap of faith and followed him. She left her family, her friends, her job, her security to be with the man in her life. **Only now do I really understand how hard that would have been.**
Mauritius. I've only heard snippets about their life there together. My parents got married in jeans and a t-shirt, and Mom managed to find her own way teaching in developing villages. From there they moved on to Chile, and continued working with the Corps until a little life came into the picture. Pregnant with my oldest brother, Christian, she gave Dad the ultimate ultimatum- "come home, or divorce me." She refused to raise her children in a developing country and was determined to do it alone if she had to. Dad's no fool! They came back together, and started a new life in Miami. 3 years later Peter was born, and another 3 years after that, moi.
Like I mentioned before, it wasn't until recently I realized how heroic my mom truly is. My wanderlust, my impulsive decisions, my whole life today must feel strangely familiar to her now.
Life after the Corps:
The Peace Corps must have been the crowning moment of my father's life. After that, the traveling stopped for them. It had to. From the 3rd world exotic foods and cultures, my parents settled in for the domestic life full of PTA meetings, soccer practice, ballet lessons, birthday parties, and treasured rare family camping trips along the Peace River.
I grew up in a happy home. Anything my brothers and I wanted or needed my parents worked hard to provide for us. We weren't rich, we weren't poor, we were juuuuuust right. What we lacked financially, my parents more than made up for with experience, exposure and education. We were always surrounded with National Geographic magazines, and family trips to Mexico always reminded us to be grateful for what we had. All 3 of us kids studied French in school and had a tight knit of friends coming from all over the world.
Nadia: could never really figure her out--Moroccan, French, Arabic background with a twist of Columbian for extra spice.
Madeleine: as far as I know she has no French heritage, but don't tell her family that because her household was overflowing with French literature and cuisine.
Mithai: a Belgian father I would hardly know when we were growing up, yet who would prove to be very helpful more recently when I decided to live in Brussels a few years back.
and Stephanie: although she came much later in my life, her Panamanian background would prove instrumental in my effort to self-identify as a Hispanic. And more than that, she's become my rock, my most treasured of friends, a sister.
These are my closest friends who really helped to shape me into the person I am today.
The one question every school teacher loves to ask his or her students is "what do you want to do when you grow up?" I must have had a different answer for that every year in school, but the theme was always the same. "A job that took me all over the world." A writer, a reporter, a journalist, a photographer, a politician, a Peace Corps volunteer...I didn't care as long as it took me far, far away.
I have always loved travel, even before I knew what it really was! Maybe Mom and Dad ingrained that in us with their memories of lost tropical paradises and never ending glacier expeditions. Maybe National Geographic did that, since I used to pore over their photos for hours on end. Every month I was taken to Africa, Asia, the Pacific Islands, into markets and wild safaris and roaming mountains full of adventure. I wanted it all.
Not many people can say that they've achieved their childhood dream. I'm lucky enough to say I have.
I am currently writing this from an apartment balcony on the other side of the world, watching a beautiful sunset. None of the clothes I am wearing belong to me and I have exactly $2.50 in my wallet, but despite that life is perfect. A warm cup of coffee, a biscuit, and the confidence that I don't know where I'll be next week. 4 years on the road, and running for more. I haven't seen it all yet, but at the rate I'm going it's only a matter of time.
G'Day from one of the most beautiful cities in the world: Sydney, Australia!
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