Nearly two years after what I thought was to be my final post on this blog, I find myself here again.    In the intervening time I have had the chance to visit corners of the US that I’d not seen before and to reconnect with my family roots as well as friends near and far.  I began (and have now nearly completed) my master’s degree in Vancouver, what I hope to be the beginning of a number of years spent north of the 49th parallel.  Changes have been part and parcel of all these activities, but to really divulge them at length would exceed the scope of this place.  Instead, we shall return to the initial theme: my travels overseas.

Asia is in the rear view mirror, Europe a crystallizing memory that is out of my income range.  My sights have drooped southwards and, taking advantage of a store of frequent flier miles accumulated on trans-Pacific journeys, I am bound for South America, or more specifically, Peru and Ecuador.  Tomorrow morning I fly south, leaving behind the perpetual grey of my Northwest behind for nearly a month and trading it in for equatorial forests, Andean vistas, and thrumming cities at either bookend.

I’ll admit to some trepidation.  Stories I’ve heard of street crime, theft, and outright robbery are not issues I’ve really dealt with in past travels.  Starting the trip in Lima, the home to some 8 million people, half of whom dwell in slum housing, may feel a bit much.  I’m telling myself that you start with the roughest bit and everything afterwards will come off smoothly and seem like a cakewalk, but in truth this was my best option for a flight out and I took it.

Such elements though are in the end out of my hands, and past simple vigilance and not putting myself in bad spots, I’m getting very excited.  The slow creep of anticipation as departure time nears, the packed bag on the floor beckoning out as my sole companion.  Time to read, to write, to think, to experience.  The chance to see if my Spanish course at the community college will be of any use.  The opportunity to crawl and climb over ruins of long-past empires and stand atop the structures from where power once emanated.  The bone-jarring shake of an old bus on rutted roads traversing the winding path up a mountain.  The freedom and the sense of being alive.  I’ll be sure to drink chamomile tonight or I fear that it’ll be far later than I hope when I sleep.