I’m shitting my pants. First of all, this is my first big trip in YEARS. More than 4 to be exact. And it’s always stressful traveling solo internationally.
But this is also going to be my first time in a developing country, my first time in a non-English-speaking country, and, oh yeah, my first time in a Communist dictatorship. No biggie.
Shit, how did this happen? This was so fun when it was all theoretical. What an adventure! What a unique and awesome historical opportunity to go to Cuba as it eases tensions with the US but before it changes irrevocably. But now the time is here; now comes the nitty-gritty as reality takes over and all lofty contextualizing goes out the window. Oh my god. Why do I do these things? All this worry and work, for what? My life will not be changed all that much for the better because of this trip. In fact, I’m taking off of work and spending copious amounts of money to do this, so when I get back I’ll be poorer. What’s the damn point then? And yet . . .
These are the times that we live for. I went horseback riding for a while in Iceland over a decade ago, one of the coolest trips I’ve ever been on, and I remember that week, day by day, hour by hour, better than last week. That has to mean something important.