Trip FAQ's

This trip has turned into a nightmare. There is a further explanation down below, but just no that it has been awful and I have spent the majority of my time here crying and/or covered in manure and have seen very little of a place I have been wanting to see for a long time. So this is a little thing I posted on facebook (where I have been ranting and bemoaning things quite often) to let people know of the situation, which is just absurd. So some things might be changing based on a lot of the things I have learned here. I will say that, I have learned SO MUCH about me and they way I've been living life. So for your enjoyment:

Who?Me. duh.

Where?Iceland, Norway, Scotland.

When?Iceland- May 15th-June 16th, Norway June16th-July25th, Scotland July 25th- ?

What?I am currently WWOOFing around the world. What is WWOOFing? Well it is a programme run through each country where individuals can sign up and then visit farms, communes, alternative living facilities, breweries, etc and work on a volunteer basis in exchange for room & board. WWOOF stands for World Wide Opportunities on Organic Farms, or Willing Workers On Organic Farms. The programme encourages learning about sustainability and organic farming, but also gaining skills that an be translated to and used on a small scale for personal use. I really love this programme and they are a great way to learn useful, but often untaught skills while seeing the world for a minimal cost. 

Why?Oh lordy. I have been pondering this for the last few days. The easy answer is I wanted to see the world and learn some new skills, especially ones related to something I am interested in which is urban, or small scale farming. But like always there is more to it than that. Since I left school I've been kind of lost. I worked a job that I hated with people I loved, because I thought they needed my help. I like being needed. But like I am sure you all know, I was just very unhappy. And no one at all is to blame for this but me. I let a lot of fear and confidence issues creep into my mind over these last two years and I kept saying things like I knew what I wanted, just not how to get it. Which is a total lie. I just didn't want to risk  making myself vulnerable again. I don't handle authority very well and I don't handle criticism or rejection well either (or rather I was fed up with all three being a seeming constant in my life) and I just didn't want to deal with those things, even if it meant not doing the things I loved. I even got to a point where I wondered if I loved them, and decided I didn't. I'm still struggling with that, but slowly I feel it coming back. 

Beyond all that I stopped actually giving a crap about myself. Physically, mentally, and to a smaller extent spiritually. I know this sounds kind of doom and gloom, and many of you may think I'm overreacting, but as public as you all might think I am, I actually am incredibly private. I share the parts of me that I think will be perceived as funny, or self deprecating, or sometimes pretty. There's a whole lot of ugly I don't even remotely show, and spend a lot of time in my head with that ugly. Couple that with my inherent laziness, and you have a rather disastrous recipe for some serious self made unhappiness. In summary, I took myself out of the game, just checked out of life,  and decided I'd rather grow old and bitter than take a risk.

But I knew that was no way to live. I felt like I needed a kind of kick-start to re-excite myself about life. I dreamed about travelling and seeing things that made me happy to be alive, that reminded me that this world had been created for me to enjoy, and I was created in such a more beautiful image. So when I heard about WWOOF, I got really excited. A fairly inexpensive way to do just that and maybe learn something to. The more I looked into the programme the more excited I got. I decided to go to Scotland for 6 months and then eventually ended up expanding the trip to Iceland and Norway. I've been planning this since probably September of last year, and it is where I put all my energy. See all that self revealing I just did? Learned it today. This is a hind-sight thing, but in truth at the time I was looking for an escape. And while I knew I was when I first started thinking of travelling, now I see how much of an escape I was looking for.  I wanted to get away from driving the same road everyday, eating the same lunch everyday, seeing the same people, dealing with a job I hated, worthless student loans, a perpetually in need of maintenance car... I wanted a vacation. Pina Coladas and getting caught in the rain. 

So then, how has this escape worked out for me?

lol.

Iceland is beautiful. I can't even begin to describe it. It's kind of scary. Raw, untamed, it feels ancient and unfriendly. Reykjavik is the capital city and it feels small, almost a Portland feel to it, but it also is dingy, uncared for. It's interesting and  it almost seems like there is an effortless effort made to try and take a wild and unruly location and tame it. I've read a lot of people talk about how they did Iceland. Hiking the wilderness, tour buses, day trips as they drive down and around the coast, or up and around the coast. I WWOOFed it. And that was a mistake. It is hard to get around outside of the city without a car or a plane, or something. It's a hard country to be alone in. 

But that isn't even the worst of it. 

According to the WWOOF guidelines volunteers are to be treated as such: volunteers. They are not slaves, day labourers, employees, whathaveyou. They are giving you a bit of their time and in exchange you are providing hot meals and a mattress. WWOOF recommends that WWOOFers work 5-6 hours a day 5-6 days a week. Afterall, we are tourists as well as workers. Every. Single. Other place I will be going abides by these rules. Except here. This past week I worked as many as 8-9 hours, while sick, 7 days. My main host will be leaving tomorrow for a two week tour guiding job and I am on my own as far as farm work goes. I am in complete charge of every. single. animal. here... I have literally never done this before and a week in, I'm on my own. Because he is gone, I am not allowed to have any time off until June 7th.   My hosts are actually nice people, I don't want you to think they are ogres, but they are obviously insane. But it gets worse. We worked all these hours this last week so that I could "focus on the animals" and now there is no other farm work left to do during the day. So I am stuck on a farm for 14 days with no escape and the only real job I will have is an 8am milking and a 6pm milking, and maybe a day or two of cheese making in the afternoon, but I am not allowed to leave during the afternoons because "something may go wrong with the animals." I don't even know what that means. 

Typing this out I think *maybe* I over dramatized the situation in all my posts, but I still think this is ridiculous (and coupled with being sick and super homesick all at once didn't help). It is definitely not how I expected to do Iceland. I planned on working, and spending my weekends chasing waterfalls and climbing glaciers and swimming in mineral pools. And now it looks like I will get to do very little, if any, of that. I do have a few backup options, but they cost money I hadn't planned on.  

Now as crappy as this situation is, I would like to make a few statements: 

1. I would never ever use this particular experience as a warning against WWOOFing. There is always bound to be one bad egg in a batch. And I took a risk. But I learned a valuable lesson I like to call When You Agree To Do Work For Someone Find Out The Parameters Before You Get There.

2. Again this is a hind-sight thing, but the heartache and headache did me good. I actually asked myself the questions I had been avoiding. In the days leading up to leaving California I actually hoped that somehow this trip would get cancelled because I knew I'd have to face myself and those questions eventually. 

3. As nice as it would have been to do all this soul searching at home, I think I was actually right about needing a kickstart. I think I needed to either hit rock bottom, or go into a totally foreign awful situation to make me stand up and ask what the hell am I doing and what the freaking hell have I been doing for two years. And I did both those things. 

4. This has been such an amazing time of self discovery. I hate that phrase, but it's true. I tend to live in a make believe world and have not a whole lot of grasp on reality. I like this about me, but I think lately I've taken it too far and I needed a good dose of shit (literally) and reality to wake me up from that fantasyland I like to retreat to. And maybe counter intuitively, I have discovered I really, really, really like me. Honestly. I'm not as much of a failure as I like to think I am, and I'm actually and incredibly strong, resilient person. I'm kind, I'm frankly hilarious (duh), I am damn smart, I'm also a really hard worker when I put my mind to it. I have a lot going for me.

5.This feels so silly even writing, but I think it's something that needs to be said, maybe less for my benefit and more for others (*coughmomcough*). As amazing as I already clarified I am, I still have a lot of work to do, and I really need to be focused on me and doing what I need and being the person I like living with and the kind of person who will attract the kind of man I want in my life. I'm not even remotely as ready as I used to think I was to settle down, and I don't want someone who will just take care of me and never let me fight my own fights or solve my own problems. If anything I want someone who I can fight along side with, and I need to learn to fight for me, before I can fight for a we. Man that was mega lame. 

6. Let's talk home. I really like my family. Like, weirdly, super adore those people. I think they think I'm pretty ace too. Every time I go away I always come back to California because of those weirdos. Yes, I really don't like a lot about California. But I also love a lot about it. No it's not my ideal habitat, but as long as my parents and siblings are there, that's where I am going to stay. It's home and they are home. But especially them. It's taken me a long time and a lot of running away to realize it, but they are my favourite people ever, and I hate not being near them. Maybe I don't need to live with them all the time..., but anything more than a quick drive away is out of the question.  Also, I hate travelling on my own. My god it sucks. At the very least I need a friend to pal around with,but truthfully I really wish my parents and siblings were all here with me, laughing and making the best of a crappy situation and finding ourselves in some weird inexplicable adventure. 

How Long?Well... I'm not sure these days. I have a ticket bought to come home December 11th. But I'm not sure now. I still have a lot to think about and a lot of details to work out, but I'm actually excited to go home and do work.  So depending on how easy that ticket is to change, I may come home a little earlier. I still want to see the places I've got lined up, but I'm also really looking forward to creating a new life for myself back home.

What Next?Another question I haven't been able to answer until very very recently. The not terrifically complicated answer: A lot. The even less complicated answer: I'm not entirely sure. I'm beginning to make plans. I'm thinking big thoughts and pursuing multiple avenues. I know what I need to NOT do and that is frankly a big start. I do know I will need to ask for help and I will have to work really hard. And I will have to do things I don't like very much. And that is all good and all things I am learning how to do better here.

Beauty

When I began this adventure I knew I would be learning a lot of new things, including things I wouldn't expect. Some of the unexpected lessons have already begun to make their mark.

Today I woke up and threw on my milking clothes: leggings, jean shorts, thick socks, muck boots, shirt, sweater, scarf, coat, hat. I washed my face, brushed my teeth and headed out to the dairy all before my fellow housemates were even awake.

I came back covered in raw milk, in need of coffee, but wide eyed and rosey cheeked from the cold north wind sweeping the field. It sounds idyllic, and while it almost is, it's also hard, hard work.

I started making milk marmalade (condenced milk), had breakfast,  helped clean out a shed, came back to check the marmalade, went back out to put my boots on, and sat quietly for a moment appreciating where I am. I've never been so busy in the mornings and so calm.

I took my phone out to snap a picture and hit the the front camera by accident. I caught a glimpse of myself and thought oh man, I'm adorable today! And then I stopped. Because by Back At Home standards, this ain't adorable.

Back home I have the time to fret over pimples and dark circles. I feel bad for not wearing makeup to work. Here I don't. I get up each morning focused on the day ahead and not on what people will think if I have a zit on my cheek (which I do).

I have no problem with making yourself up. I do my hair every night before bed, I wear things I think are cute, even if I have to walk through 2ft of manure. There's a bit of moral boosting in taking care of yourself, but that's what it is: taking care of your shell.

And I've suddenly noticed how much more I like me, warts and all. They are MY warts. MY funny crooked lips, MY puffy eye bags, MY drooping eyelid. They aren't flaws. They are me. This is where the Body Acceptance/Self Love ideas fail. They promote "Loving your flaws" when infact these are not flaws, they are shapes unique to you alone. They are what makes you look and feel like you. They tell your story: heritage, parentage, region, hurt, joy. The lines and curves of you spell out a tale for the world to see. Why would you want to eliminate that?

Don't get me wrong, I love my red lipstick and mascara. When I go into town, I'll probably throw some on. But not because I need to, not because I have to, but because I'd like to. I'm no more beautiful with or without. I am me. I was fearfully and wonderfully made in the image of the Creator of the Universe. He didn't need help in making me. But I'm allowed to enjoy a little red lipstick.

I've never really been someone who struggled with "body positivity," for lack of a bettee phrase. I didn't go to public school and I was never told I was anything less than perfectly fine the way I was. But even still I will complain about my long nose, tiny eyes, moles, etc. and really that is so so so silly. Why shouldn't I have a long nose? What is wrong with full puffy cheeks? That's the thing I'm beginning to see, is there such a thing as ugly? Cows come in all shapes and sizes. Trees come in all shades and heights. Mountains swoop and climb and are uneven. But no one ever questions their beauty. So then why the hell do we question our own? Those things were made to pronounce the glory and might of the Creator, yet we were made in his image.

The moral is that you don't need to fly half a world away to look in the mirror and know that you are beautiful because you are unique. There will never be another like you.

The Beginning

Source

When I was a little girl I became fixated on Scotland. The reason is silly, as most of a 14-year-old's reasons for just about anything are apt to be, but I soon found myself completely captivated by this beautiful ancient land. I spent every free moment I had in our library reading and absorbing all the books on Scotland I could. Soon I had exhausted the children's section, and moved on to the regular stacks. I read every poem by Burns I could, I learned the songs, I practiced my accent, and I told myself that someday, come hell or high water, I'd get to go.

When I did get the opportunity to travel to the UK, 10 years ago this July,  I got moved from the trip that would go to Scotland to the one that didn't. At the time I was incredibly heartbroken, but it just made me more resolute in my determination to someday go. I always thought that it was rather funny how I lived in a land that a lot of people dreamed of, but for me, the place I dreamed of going was the polar opposite of my home. It feels very silly to write all this about a place I've never been to, and have utterly romanticized for 12 years, but sometimes dreams are silly. And really it makes sense. Scotland is sort of the conglomeration of all my deeply loved interests. The nature, the rain, the music, the food, the textiles, the animals, the history, the politics (or at least the historical ones), it's always just felt very "me."

When I moved back to California, I instantly regretted not sticking it out in Oregon. I've been plotting ways to get back ever since. California has never been for me. That's okay. When it became evident that moving back to Oregon was not in my near future, I started dreaming up taking trips to every other part of the globe. Scotland was always my first pick. It's never worked out. But I'd spend hours on the internet just looking at pictures of various places I've always dreamed of going. I spent a good majority of my days daydreaming of hiking glaciers in Iceland, being dwarfed by high Fjords in Norway, of standing on a Moor in the Highlands, my skirt blowing about in the wind. I know that I tend to romanticize everything, but I just want to see places that leave me breathless and in awe. That remind me of how small I am, yet how loved I am for all this to have been created for me to enjoy. I want salt water mist in my hair, foggy, haunting mornings, endless nights of sunshine, and nary a high of 100* in sight. My sisters, my friends, and I were gun-ho to go, but y'know, life.

That whole life business was always other people's, never mine. I don't mean for any of this to sound depressing, (because I really am quite the opposite) but the truth of the matter is that I work a job I hate, live in a town I hate, have very few friends who are available to get together when I am, and generally have no idea what I am doing or where I am going. I want a lot of things in my life, and have no idea how to get them. I've spent the nearly two years I've been back in California trying to get back on my feet financially (student loans man...), and it has majorly sucked. But now I find myself at a place where I have a little more to spare, and not a whole lot of reasons to stick around. My resolution for this year has been to stop suffering for other people. It sounds selfish, but in truth I am usually the one who gets the short end of the stick. I'm a bleeding saint when it comes to trying to help other people get ahead. I cheer them on, I listen, I let them cry, and I do my best to build people up. I love doing that. But then I'm the one left behind, I'm the one who people forget to call and tell they'll be two and a half hours late because I'm always patient, I'm the one who sits back listening to everyone talk about their lives and New Exciting Adventure they are about to embark on while all I have to look forward to is maybe getting to go to Chipotle tomorrow while I'm at work. I love these people, and my lack of a "life" is not at all their fault, but in my head I keep telling myself, no I can't go do X because I need to be here for them. This year I decided to put myself first. I'm doing something for me.

Source

So right now I am sitting in the Boston Airport. I am giddy writing that. I am scared, nervous, terrified, anxious. I keep crying. Both because I am so so completely nervous, and because I could not be happier right now. I'm going on an Adventure. A wild, crazy, wonderful Adventure.  I'm waiting to board a plane that will take me to an Exciting New Adventure. I will get off the plane, and then I will get back on another plane, and wake up in Iceland. I'll spend a month working on a farm in Iceland before I ship off to Norway, and spend a month working on a farm there. And then I will jet off one more time to finally get to see Scotland where I will remain for 5 months working on a farm. I have no idea what will happen while I am there. There will be sheep, and cattle, and vegetables. I might hate it. But I don't think I will.

Source

I've been hardcore planning this all since November, and talking about it since September and it has nearly killed me to keep silent. This is such a dream trip, and I have been terrified of something going awry. Only a very few select people have known up to this point and I'm actually still so incredibly nervous to tell people. But it's here. I am going. I'm terrified. I'm elated. I have no idea what to expect. I have no idea what my internet access will be like for the next 7 months. But I will do my best to share as much of this adventure I am on as possible.

There's so much more I want to say. So much I am feeling, that I can't even figure out how to put into words. I feel like I am standing on one side of a door that leads to more than I can possibly imagine. I feel like my life is about to change. But adequate words fail me. So I'll end with a crappy picture of me from this morning at LAX as I said goodbyes, cried a whole lot, and had the hardest time ever letting go of Gracie. But I am ready. Ready for a new beginning. Ready for adventure. Ready for everything.

And that is Grace skulking in the background. Probably my favourite part of this.

Ina Mae

Dec 21 1920- May 5th 2014

Goodbye Grandma.

There will never be another one like you. 

93 years of strength, love, grace, elegance, humour, generosity, and babe-hood.

Thank you for the lessons you taught me and the ones you're still teaching.

Always that smile, even to the end.

Miss you now an forever.

Fear and Loathing

Two weeks from now I'll be sitting on an airplane making my way towards a super amazing, rather grand, and incredibly terrifying Adventure.  And I have got a lot of feelings about that.

A few weeks ago I was leaving for work and a few of my mom's friends were over and they all started asking me questions about this trip. One mom asked me about insurance. The other told me I was being very brave. A few days later a lady I have met only a few times and I were talking and when I described what I would be doing she said it sounded "like a horror film waiting to happen." A week or so ago I was over at my sister and brother-in-law's and he started telling me about the horror stories from similar programmes he vaguely glanced at online. He reminded me me to be careful and "remember the Human Centipede." Gross Michael. -_-

In our culture of instant information and world-wide connected-ness you would think we'd relish hearing the wonderful opportunities and stories from around the globe, but no, we are sordid little people and relish disaster, heartache, and bad guys. I am no exception. I LOVE crime dramas. I mean, I can literally spend all day watching those True Crime shows on TV. The ones with the 900 Operator for a narrator and really, really bad double entendres. I love 'em! A few months ago a body was found in a car in a Jack-in-the-box parking lot two blocks from my house. I googled the whole story and solved it in 30 seconds (but really I was right). Earlier this week a body was found by the train tracks I drive over every. single. day. Obviously a Meth OD (Riverside is the actual Meth capital of the world. Breaking Bad was supposed to be set here, but the city taxes were too high for the show's budget.). I like the puzzles in crime. I love detective stories. I actually got excited by these two incidents because they were "mysteries" right in my backyard. I don't think there is necessarily something wrong in being fascinated by crime, but we do have a tenancy to whitewash it, sugar coat it, and make it all very sanitary. I could go into a dissertation on how this is a perfect example of humanity's need for order and chaos, but that's not the point. The point is why is it rare to hear about marvelous deeds in the news? Why are there more articles online about defending yourself than on making new friends? I don't for a second pretend that the world is not a scary and evil place, but when did we all start focusing on that?

I'm going to wax on about my personal belief's here so be forewarned. As a Christian we are called to be a light unto the world. The world is in darkness. The world lives under the weight of sin. When sin entered the world it seeped into all portions of it. While there is immense beauty and wonder in this world, it doesn't last, and is overshadowed by the evil, dark, and weighty things. I fully believe that. But when did we stop hearing about being a light? We are not to cower in the darkness, we are to go into the darkness. I'm not going on a missions trip, but I am a light in this world. I am to go to every nation, every corner of the earth and be that light (Matthew 28:19). That doesn't mean bad things won't happen to me. That doesn't mean I won't have a horrible experience. I am still effected by the sin in this world, but I'm still supposed to go.

Our culture has this idea that risks = bad. Risks are not inherently bad. Risks just mean you can't see the outcome. It isn't chance- doing something by the seat of your pants and hoping for the best- it's thought out, researched, and making the best decision you can based on those factors. Risk isn't throwing caution into the wind, it's making a choice and yes, hoping for the best based on knowledge of the possible outcomes. Risk should be taught in school. It helps you make decisions, it helps you come to logical conclusions, it helps you assess things, and it teaches via outcome and consequences. Risky things are not always bad things, and they can even teach you how to avoid the bad things.

I'm not calling out these ladies (and my b-i-l) to shame them, because I honestly understand from a mom stand point how scary this could be. None of these ladies have children older than 19 and I get that letting the birds fly from the nest is scary. And I'll be honest, I am a lot scared. I've never gone this long without seeing my family (when I was at OSU I saw them every 4 months and that was awful), I've never done this thing where I am constantly moving, I've never done a lot of the things I'll be doing. It is totally okay for me to be nervous and scared. I often tell people that when you face something that scares you, that is the one thing you need to be doing. But I am very bad at taking my own advice. I won't always be comfortable on this trip, that scares me. I won't speak the same language always, that scares me. I won't have anyone but myself to fall back on, and that scares me. I will be in climates so utterly foreign to the ones I've ever known, and that scares me. I don't know what my internet access will be, and frankly that scares me. I'm scared. But I don't need to hear about the horror stories. I need to hear what the random old lady at Goodwill told me: "You will never regret it," "it will be amazing," "you will be changed forever," "you'll never look at life the same way," "you're doing the best thing a young person can do."  Sure those involve change, and change is scary, but those also are exciting, they're daring, they mean growth. Those are the words I want ringing in my ear on the days I want to sit down in the airport crying, wishing I could go home. Those are the words I want in my head when flights have been delayed, or I get turned away from this location, or my suitcase goes missing (this is actually my biggest fear, so if everyone could please say a prayer I would really greatly appreciate it).

When I was almost 17 ten years ago I went on a big scary adventure. I was gone for three weeks (the longest ever up to that point) and while it was a much more secure trip than this coming one, it was still a little scary. 16 year old me was not afraid (there is a BIG difference between scared and afraid) to go out there and be bold and "brave." 16 year old me was not afraid to argue with tour guides when they're information was just plain wrong. 16 year old me wasn't afraid to lead everyone back to the hotel in the middle of the night in London when our tour guide was tired of corralling people who all thought they knew the best way to get around a city they'd never been to (I have an innate sense of direction and don't get lost, so you can imagine how frustrating this was). 16 year old me ignored everyone who told her how crime ridden every place she was going was and didn't wear that gosh-awful money belt thankyouverymuch (because, as I demonstrated above, Riverside is such a crime-free place to be!). So 26 year old me will do the same, just with older eyes, and a bit more knowledge in my head (and maybe with the wisdom to not walk around a foreign city at midnight while you and your one companion are slightly inebriated...).

Fear is a natural part of life, but it isn't always a bad part of life. Fear originally meant respect and being in awe of something. I am in awe of what I am about to do, and I respect the possible outcomes, the bad things that could happen, and the distance between myself and the things that have always made me feel safe. But I'm still supposed to go. So I will look boldly into the face of all those things and I will smile, take a deep breath, and just go.