Inspired by my friend B. and the urge to capture my upcoming trip, I've decided to try my hands at blogging. Being slightly scattered in nature we will see where it goes.
So I did it, I booked tickets to Ireland back in March. Unbelievable! As a kid I'd stand on the edge of Atwood's Quarry in my maroon swim suit with a soaked and unflattering t-shirt sealed to my belly and stare down the limestone walls for hours. I'd watch kid after kid jump, flip, double dip, and cannon bomb their way to the water, but the drop seemed miles and the water dark and full of eels. I'd stand there cold, terrified, and bored, my mom yelling, "just jump already!" My legs would shake, I'd take false starts over and over until just the right moment. The sweet spot. Someone would say just the right words, I'd have a surge of courage, and my legs would actually move all at the same time. Resulting in a terrified slightly wobbly pencil jump. Deciding on this trip was a similar experience.
I've wanted to travel for as long as I can remember. I've always wanted to go on the adventure of the new and unknown. But school, mamahood, lack of funds, and the usual day to day grind kept my travels national. But there has always been something else too. Something similar to what I felt on the ledge of the quarry, fear of the commitment. If you travel in the U.S. by car you can always turn around and come home at a moments notice. But like jumping off the ledge, international travel requires a commitment. Once you're airborne you have to wait till you land and, hopefully, swim to shore. Or in this case, find a way to pay for another ticket since I bought CHEAP, NON-REFUNDABLE, NON-TRANSFERABLE ones. (Amazing how those words seemed so small and insignificant back in March sitting beside the words CHEAP ASS TICKETS!) Despite watching friend after friend take off and return safely from oversees and living with my deeply rooted jealousy of them, I just never seemed to manage to follow their leads. No flips to Peru after my brothers. No double dips to Europe like L. No cannonballs to Indonesia like the super cool chick in my book club. Just laps around the good ol' USA pool! (I love this pool by the way, awesome pool, happy 4th!)
But the sweet spot arrived in March 2009. A nice bonus paid up, Forrest said the magic words, "I'd really like to go to Ireland", and my legs moved! And just like the first moments over the ledge, I simply can't believe I bought the tickets. And now I'm hurtling toward the unknown. (Yes unknown, despite the fact that I've read several books and watched several movies over the last 4 months.) I'm officially part of a triple-dip!
Instead of screaming on the way down I've instead talked incessantly about the upcoming plunge. I've noted about it many times on Facebook, slipped it into conversation at work, cornered friends to go over itineraries, and even made sure that my bank is fully aware of the ins and outs of my next month. I suppose even this blog counts as part of the blood curdling scream that is my attempt at processing this decision. Why can't I be suave? Non nonchalant? Only mentioning the trip in passing as if it were no more important than swinging by the grocery for that slightly crusty day old french baguette. Because my friend that is what people who are ready to cannonball ball do.
My son Forrest, My friend B.D., and I will leave Tuesday the 7th around noon. We know where we will sleep every night of the trip and we know how we are getting from place to place. B.,a friend who left last week for Ireland, has been blogging about how kind people are and how wonderful the landscape is. It's even an English speaking country! So my first dive in is more of a wobbly pencil jump than a cannonball, but I'm still proud. Plus we will have 9 days in Paris, so that should count as a little half-twist or something.
Hopefully like the quarry jumps I'll survive, enjoy the adrenalin rush, and earn bragging rights. Hopefully unlike the quarry I'll be quicker to do the next jumps and with a little more confidence and flourish. But my biggest and most secret hope is that I won't be wearing an unflattering maroon bathing suit and wet t-shirt, or it's counterparts, for this jump.
I expect that I can do this!
