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A list of things I need (or think I need).
When you are preparing yourself to travel into the unknown there’s a lot of research that needs to be done. As of this writing I’m way behind it. Out of sheer amount of information that you find from other travelers, it almost cripples you as to what the f**k are you doing. You don’t know what you need, you read other blogs, and other peoples experience and you come out with just more questions. It’s daunting. I’m going to start this list of things I think i need. And will be making changes/addendum to it as I go along. I only have 30 days to do this anyway.
| Things I need | Reason for what I need it/Concerns | Own it | |
| 1 | Backpack | Need a place to carry things in* | Maybe |
| 2 | MP3 Player | Distract my mind in quiet times or long trips. | No |
| 3 | Cellphone | Will be used mostly as a day camera, no cell plan. | ✔ |
| 4 | SLR Camera | Big item, bought 2 years ago with this trip in mind. | ✔ |
| 5 | Tablet | Main communication device | ✔ |
| 6 | Tablet Charger | Same for cellphone and Tablet | ✔ |
| 7 | SLR Camera Charger | Must if I am to take pictures | ✔ |
| 8 | Spare SLR Battery | In between destinations in case of no charge available | No |
| 9 | MicroSD Memory | For Tablet and phone, hold picture | No |
| 10 | Spare SD Memory | For Camera | No |
| 11 | Passport | Need to enter countries. Kind of important | ✔ |
| 12 | Shirts | 3 Pairs of non-cotton wear | Maybe |
| 13 | Shorts | 2 Pairs of nylon fabric shorts for quick dry | ✔ |
| 14 | Wool socks | 3 pairs | No |
| 15 | Trail/Hiking shoes | Merrell Trail runners, light and easy to dry | ✔ |
| 16 | Flip Flops | Down time wear, bathroom use | ✔ |
| 17 | Universal plug | No | |
| 18 | Hat/Visor/Head Gear | Have to protect my head from heat | ✔ |
| 19 | Inflatable head pillow | Rest head in long bus/air/water trips | No |
| 20 | Water Bottle with purifier | Cheaper than buying bottle water, filtered dubious water | No |
| 21 | Book(s) | Knowledge expand, downtime use | ✔ |
| 22 | Towel | Quick drying kind | No |
| 23 | Bar Soap for clothes | Wash clothes on the go | No |
| 24 | Journal | Capture what I can in words, instead of tablet | ✔ |
| 25 | Frisbee | Odd item, used to break ice, a food plate, practice forehand | ✔ |
| 26 | Deodorant | Keep as fresh as possible, hopefully | ✔ |
| 27 | Nail Clipper | Need to keep clean | ✔ |
| 28 | Day Bag | Messenger bag, smaller bag to carry when backpack is safe | No |
| 29 | Ear plugs | Noisy environment and sleep is required | No |
| 30 | Tootbrush | ✔ | |
| 31 | Toothpaste | No |
Another list:
| Things I might need | Why I might need it | Own it | |
| 1 | Sleeping Bag | Not sure of where I’ll be sleeping every night, long hiking trips | No |
| 2 | 1 person tent | Not sure of where I’ll be sleeping every night, long hiking trips | No |
| 3 | Long Pants | Not sure if needed, or how often will be used in tropical areas | No |
| 4 | Jacket/Sweater | Same as pants, not sure how often used in tropical ares | ✔ |
| 5 | First aid kit | Some kind of protection | No |
| 6 | Compass | Directions in the wild | No |
I’m a CHEATER! Part II
In case you haven’t figure it out, I didn’t cheat with another woman. I might not be the best boyfriend, and I have made some mistakes in my life. But I cheated with an idea. An idea that has been haunting me for at least 20 years, probably 25 years.
When I was a kid my dad was subscribed to Reader’s Digest. I would read it, mostly for the jokes and anecdotes at the end of the stories. But sometimes I would also read some of the stories.
I don’t remember the exact name of the article, but if I remember correctly it was named: “Is there any good people left?”
The narrator was wondering if there were humans with good intentions left in the world, or more specifically the US. He decided to put it to the test by leaving all his credit cards, money and possessions behind, while he traveled from the East Coast of the United States to the West coast. No money, no car. Just the open road and hopefully the kindness of strangers.
In the story he talks about the different encounters and the different stories. The one I still remember was of him walking in the dessert hitchhiking. It was getting late and cold, cars were passing him by, and all of a sudden a couple of nuns in a car stopped, and said to him “You might be a murderer, but even if you are, we can’t let you walk by yourself in this weather.” And gave him a ride.
He made it safely through the U.S.
I remember reading this story and thinking I want to do THAT! This story, along with my feelings of never being in quite the right place fuel my desire to see the world.
To see if maybe I could find a place I could consider home. Puerto Rico is so small in comparison, that I knew it couldn’t hold my desires. As pretty as it is, it just wasn’t my home. Growing up watching American movies, I thought that maybe the continental United States would be my place. I learned English, and when I first saw the opportunity to leave I left. Two weeks later I already gave up my Puerto Rico license for Florida, and never looked back.
But this desire to keep seeing more wasn’t satisfy with just being in United States. Is a hungry beast and needs constant feeding. I would try to appease it by traveling to London, Rome, all over the US, back to Puerto Rico, Spain, Peru. But it goes beyond that.
For that reason I have decided to quit my job. And travel through South East Asia (and hopefully beyond) for about 9 months of my life.
I’m a CHEATER! Part I
There. I said it, loudly and publicly. I have cheated on every single relationship I have ever been on. Every “I Love You.” I have ever said has been diminished in power because of the love of my life.
She has been there, even before my first official girlfriend, she came into my life when I was young, around 14 years old. Can’t say if it was love at first sight, but certainly infatuation. The more I learn about her, the more infatuated I became. When I was younger and didn’t have a partner in my life, she would tell me her tales, and her knowledge. She sounded so mature and so exciting. But I couldn’t give myself to her. I wanted to, but I was taking the safe route. I knew we couldn’t be together. My time in Puerto Rico was mostly with her, dreaming of her, talking about her.
By the time I was leaving Puerto Rico in August of 1999. I started a long distance relationship. This is probably the only time she backed off in my life. She gave me the space I wanted and needed. I left Puerto Rico to do a U.S. West coast trip, I had a great time with my then-girlfriend. Came back to Puerto Rico, and a few weeks later I was living in Orlando, Florida. I thought that with me leaving Puerto Rico my affair would end.
It didn’t, I didn’t know she was such a jealous person. Thinking of her was always though. I wanted to be with her. When I was in between relationships I always wondered what it would be to give myself to her. She never stopped talking to me. Nor I stopped saying how I felt about her. It became my obsession.
We went through some highs or lows. But always talking and day dreaming together. When I was in my longest relationship I introduced my affair as a friend. Someone we could hang out with. And it worked for a little bit. My girlfriend didn’t know how strong our relationship was. Hell, I didn’t know how strong my desire for her was. Sometimes I would be looking afar, and my girlfriend would wonder what I was thinking about. I was thinking about her. In another place. She would blame one of my friends. I made her jealous, but she was blaming the wrong person.
When I was in this relationship, my girlfriend got pregnant. Oh, my affair was livid. She couldn’t believe we did that. I thought I lost her forever at this point. The only time I thought I was going to be done for sure of my affair. I was afraid this would be our end. So many years talking and dreaming. About to go by the wayside. I’m not going to lie, being this far into the affair and the thought of losing her, didn’t make me the most supporting boyfriend. If there’s one time I feel regret this would be it. I created some distance between me and my girlfriend. When she wanted me there I was feeling sorry for myself. For that I’m sorry.
The stress of the relationship wasn’t good for my then-girlfriend, the lack of support, and family stress, just wasn’t good for her. She ended up with a miscarriage. I have never felt such opposites sides of feelings, happy and relief because my affair wouldn’t end. Sad and frustrated because I was finally coming around to the idea of being a father figure. From cutting my ties of my affair and start to accept my place as an adult and a father.
I re-dedicated myself to my girlfriend at this point. After such a tragic moment in our relationship I said I wasn’t going to fail her again. And I didn’t for a few years, we had a good run. I made her happy, and I made her laugh. But my thoughts would deceive me. My mind would wander and eventually my affair came back, and me and my girlfriend were on different path. She wanted to try a family again, and I was firm that I wasn’t ready. We broke up. It was ugly.
I asked my affair if this would be the time for us to finally be together but she said I couldn’t yet. I wasn’t ready. But I didn’t want to be alone, so I started other relationships. I would still introduced my affair as a friend. Eventually those relationships ended. Was my affair part of it? Maybe. I certainly wasn’t honest with them about it.
At this point in my life, I’m reeling. I have many questions and many other unfulfilled promises. I sought out professional help. And realize how my affair was being toxic in my life. At this point I also started dating again. And for the first time I was truthful about my affair with my girlfriend. I told her how I felt about, and what I needed to do with my affair. And to my surprise Sarah understood how important this affair was to me. How it would be part of my life if I didn’t give myself to this other relationship.
Sarah may not understand why I have such a passion for my affair, but she understand what it means to me. So she accepted me into her life with my baggage. I promised her I would give my affair an ultimatum. A real final ultimatum.
Vagabond trotter
When I was about 14 years old, I went to the mall with my mom. That sweetspot age when you don’t want to be seen with your parents, but you need them to drive you to places. You know the age.
Well, before going to the mall, we had to go to one of the isolated stores across from the mall. To go to the mall from said store you had to go through a 4 lane highway, up a small uphill of grass, that would lead you to the parking lot of the mall and into the main entrance of the mall.
We crossed the highway without a problem, and I went up the hill running without a problem. But looked back at my mom and she was struggling up this small hill, trying to not lose balance and fall. I retreated back to get her and hold her hand while now both of us when up the hill, and we went up to the mall.
That scene has stuck with me through all of this years, is a scene I never talk about, because is a mundane moment. But it really wasn’t for me. When I was a kid (less than 8 years old), my mother as a proud Latina woman can be, would take me into this streets bazaars in Puerto Rico. And we would be walking for hours, my small little feet would get tired and I would try to whine, cry, complain, to slow down or stop. But my mom would have none of that, she would keep walking and it was up to me if I wanted to keep up, because there was an unveil threat that if I couldn’t keep up, I would stay behind and my mom would only had 2 kids to raise instead of 3. There was a certain level of veracity to this threat, that always pushed me to walk with her even when I was tired.
Fast forward to 2013. I went to Peru to see my extended family that I haven’t seen since I was 7 years old. I also wanted my mom to come to Peru with me, so that I could pay for her to go to Machu Picchu. She was born and raised in Peru, but like a lot of Peruvians, going to this wonderland is not financially possible. So I wanted to give her a small present for all the years of sacrifice as a mother that she has done for me and my siblings. It doesn’t even begin to pay what she has done, but is my little down payment for that.
I payed for a package that would take my mom, my aunt, and me to Cusco, and we would go through the minor cities/ruins of the Inca empire before going to Machu Picchu. I would then separate from my mom and aunt, and I would go to Machu Picchu city by myself.
To see Machu Picchu, there’s a few ways to see it
1. You can do the Inca Trail, which can be 2, 4 or 5 days. You would go a trail, and hike/camp overnight along the way until you get to the ruins on your last day.
2. You can do it the easier way, have a touring company take you in a bus to the entrance of the ruins and you explore the ruins with a guided tour leader.
3. You can do it on your own (once you get the right pass) and hike up the trail up the mountain on the same day.
I would had liked to do the 4 day inca trail, but with only 2 weeks vacation and meeting family in Peru, it just wasn’t possible to do it. So I decided instead to break from my mom and aunt, and I would go with the third option. While I’m trying to explain this to my mom, she says, that she could do it with me. I decline, and say is better for her to go with my aunt and do it with the guided tour.
Once we were in Cusco, we visited Urubamba ruins, and while the views were astounding. Look for yourself.
There were also this giant steps, hundreds of them:
They would tire you out, all of us were out of breath. I was able to regain my breath and keep going. My aunt, while younger than my mom, gave up quickly. My mom was able to regain some of her breath and kept going farther than my aunt, but couldn’t follow me anymore.
You see, age had finally caught up to her, even though she is in great shape for someone of her age, there’s only so much she could overcome. And that’s what I saw for the first time in that seemingly normal afternoon of my youth.
My mother, the woman that dragged me along the streets of Rio Piedras, and the woman that to these days, walks every morning for an hour to start her day, was finally getting old in my eyes. I had to go back to help her. It dawned on me, in that afternoon, that there’s only so much we can walk, before your body says no more.
I’m now 36 years old, and I know that my walking prime days are numbered. For that reason I need to change my life.
I envy Puertoricans
I have always carried a certain weight on top of me, a mental stopgap that doesn’t let me enjoy my heritage. My parents being from Peru, they identify themselves as Peruvians, even though they are very grateful of the opportunities Puerto Rico (and by extension the US) have given them. They even became citizens, because they thought it was the right thing.
They talked about their families in Peru, that long distance cousin and aunt. My grandmas that I met briefly. But they have never been nationalists, they don’t raise a flag of any country. They follow the politics of Peru or Puerto Rico with a bypass interest. They were more concerned with raising their family.
The thinking and pondering, I was the one that got that gene. I was mesmerized by the fact that Puertoricans loved their little island. There might be some bitterness at the fact that belongs to the United States, but they love every grain of sand they own. They carry their flags and are not afraid to show it. If you live near a latino community, you know that for sure. They are proud of their history and of their ups and downs.
Me, well, not so much. Not that hate it, but I could never share in that pride. It didn’t belong to me, I didn’t do anything to earn it, in my mind at least. I was always an outsider that just happened to live there.
You see, I don’t look Puertorican, and my Spanish accent, it seems is not Puertorican enough. Within minutes of meeting someone one their first questions was “Where you from?”. As if the years I have put into being part of their culture wasn’t enough. The fact that I knew their history and share their upbringing, I was still an outsider. A type of subtle racism.
Let me interject something here and make it clear, because whenever you bring “racism” into something it can be very divisive. The racism I talk about is not one of hate, or of reject. More of wondering. As if they are asking “How you made it here?”, “How you found out about us?”
There’s no malice behind their questions, but I couldn’t help but feel like I wasn’t one of them. I could share with them, and I could laugh with them, I could even be accepted by them, but never a true one of them. Again, this is my take on it, I still know my Puertorican friends never meant anything other than good in their actions and love for me and viceversa.
But when you don’t feel you belong to the place where you were born, then maybe you belong to the place your parents came from. After all, you came from them, you look like them.. So last year at the ripe old age of 34 I went to Peru.
I visited my extended family for the first time since I was 7 years old. I wasn’t sure what to expect. My parents were there too, so that helped in the introduction to family. They accepted me from the moment I landed. They treated me like if I have never left. They would introduce me to other family members and talk to me like if I knew what was going on in their families. I could feel their love even though they barely knew who I was just a few ours priors.
I can only say I love them for that. But I couldn’t help that I also wasn’t one of them. My skin color is lighter than them. The process foods that I eat and my bad habits makes me carry my weight in a different weight. The way I walk and talk is nothing like them. I was still an outsider.
Now all of this is in my head, I will admit to that. I carry that. I put that upon myself. And if I could get beyond that I would in a second. But for some reason I can’t.
Can’t help but feel like I will always be at the party looking in through the window. I wish I had pride in where I come from. I wish I could carry a flag and make it feel like it belongs in my hand. Listen to my country’s anthem and feel pride and joy. But I can’t. That’s not me. I’m just a vagabond really. A man without a country. I envy those who show their flag with pride.
I envy Puertoricans.
Except if you put your flag in your car’s windshield. That’s just plain trashy. lol.
Don't Follow My Lead 