Check out the bags under my eyes!

Do excuse the state of my face! I’m currently running on an average of 3-4 hours sleep a night so you’re seeing a product of complete exhaustion.

Today’s my last day in Wales and this is exactly how I feel about it. (Or that could just be the expression of someone who’s been given a load of goodbye JD & Cokes by her friends and got way too close to the flash. You decide.)

Tomorrrow I’ll be hopping on the train to Gatwick where I’ll spend the night (not sleeping, I imagine) and then hop on a plane first thing on Thursday morning.

I always imagined writing this post with an air of nostalgia: Writing about the numerous things I’ve been up to over the last couple of days; Reminising about my homeland, my hometown and how leaving has made me quite patriotic inside and proud to be Welsh; Giving a little tribute to the friends and family I’ll leave behind and shedding a tear over how much I’ll miss them.

But the truth of that matter is, it’s 6.30pm and I’m already exhausted. Physically and mentally.

Every day for the past week, I’ve been up since 6am, running around trying to find little things I still need, packing my bakpack and making sure weight restrictions are being abided, meeting up with friends for drinks, foods and giggles for the last time, and have only now stopped to sit down properly.

I will miss everyone. I will miss my wonderful homeland.

But, right now, I’m just too tired to think about it. I’m over the moon with excitement and at the same time, a little terrified.

But that’s all I can articulate right now.

Sorry.

The next time you hear from me, I’ll be blogging from Mexico. I’ll hopefully be well rested and will have stopped staying up until 3am Googling ‘Dangerous insects in Mexico‘. I’ll be immersed in a completely different culture and literally living what I’ve always dreamed of doing.

You’re more than welcome to follow me on Twitter and watch my updates as I get ready to actually fly out of the UK. (This’ll be my first ever flight, after all!)

Look at how pale my skin is. The non-Welsh weather’s going to destroy me.

Last weekend, I hopped on a train (or two) to visit my best friend, Rhi, who’s currently studying for her Masters at Aberystwyth University.

Not only was it a special weekend because I’d discover where she’ll be living for the next year but this was the last time we’d be seeing each until December 2012. Having never really had more than a fortnight apart in the eight years we’ve known each other, we knew this was going to be an emotional time but decided to leave that stuff until the last moment and just make the most out of the weekeend to come.

If there’s one thing to be said about Aberystwyth, it’s a student town. It’s also a traditional seaside town. Non-UK based readers? Want to find out what British students are like? Want to find out what going to the seaside’s like for British families? Go to Aberystwyth. While it’s located on the coast of mid-Wales, I didn’t hear a single Welsh accent while I was there (other than mine and Rhi’s). The town is brimming with students and tourists clutching books, bags and cameras.

The air smells like salt, ice cream, and fish ‘n’ chips wrapped in newspaper while the call of a thousand seagulls, band music coming from the piers and seafronts, and the crashing of the unrelenting waves fill your ears.

I was lucky to arrive in Aberystwyth when I did. October is cruel weather for Wales, especially for coastal towns. Having arrived at midnight on Friday/Saturday night, I couldn’t stop shivering as Rhi led me the way towards her fabulous sea front house and only warmed up when she made me a stunning cup of tea to accompany our long-awaited catchup and talks that went on until 4 in the morning. Saturday morning we awoke to find beautiful weather waiting for us right outside her front door.

Our first stop was to the Farmer’s Market. I should have taken a thousand and one pictures of the absolutely mouth-watering selection of foods on display but was so entranced, I completely forgot.

The Farmer’s Market arrives in town once every two weeks and displays everything and more than you could ever hope to buy from your local supermarket.

Rhi pointed out a pie stall that she’d visited last time they were here and I was thrilled to discover that all the mini pies and puddings were vegetarian and vegan friendly. I quickly pulled out my purse and slammed down my money before going through the tough process of choosing which ones I wanted.

In the end I went with an ‘Indian Summer Pudding’ and one I can’t remember the name of that was filled with three cheeses, red peppers and other delicious ingredients.

Verdict: Best pies I’ve ever tasted in my life!

After buying our goodies, we headed into a small café to get some breakfast Rhi-and-Ceri-style – Two vegetarian breakfasts with Oreo Cookie Milkshakes.

Yes, this is genuinely how we roll.

With our stomachs full, we spent the next couple of hours walking up and down the seafront: Rhi pointing out the sights, giving me little historical facts about the buildings we passed (She’s such an historical nerd. I love her. ) and showing me around the remains of Aberystwyth Castle.

Told you you’d be seeing my face all over this blog from now on.

At one point we decided (well, more like, I dragged Rhi) to walk along the small pier. Half way down we each suddenly realised what completely noobs we were because even though we don’t mind a little splash or swim in the sea from time to time, being above the water is pretty nerve-racking stuff.

Observe below:

After our walk along the sea, Rhi announced we would be taking a little train up to the top of Constitution Hill:

As we neared it, I spotted some pathways and announced that we should save our money and just walk up.

Rhi was not amused.

I think she forgave me in the end, though. Not only did the climb produce some beautiful views of the town but it made us feel like we’d achieved something when we finally made it to the top. Especially as yours truly was wearing skinny jeans and Vans at the time.

I took this little video of the all-around view when we were half way up. Two facts about the video:

1) See that peak behind Rhi? Yes. We really got to the top of there!

2) Even though she’s smiling and waving, I think at this point Rhi wanted to kill me for dragging her up by foot.

When we reached the top of Constitution Hill, we sat back, relaxed, rewarded ourselves with ice lollies and took in the view.

The sun began to set and we decided to head back to Rhi’s place to get ready for the evening to come.

Rhi had been telling me for weeks about how her male housemates were quite the slobs and she had almost assigned herself the ‘mother’ role in the house as she was constantly picking up after them.

I finally got to meet them when we headed into to the kitchen for a cup of tea to warm up. The most hilarious thing came over them as we walked into the room. One minute they were all sitting around the kitchen table eating, the next they all jumped up and began washing dishes, sweeping the floor, taking the bins out, really getting domesticated and apologising for the mess. Rhi and I could do nothing but giggle: Clearly these guys just needed an outsider coming into their house to get them motivated.

Later on we joined Rhi’s friends at an Indian restaurant where we feasted on beautiful food and moved on to a quiet pub where we knocked back a few drinks accompanied by a (badly-played) game of pool.

At midnight, Rhi’s friends decided to call it a night but Rhi asked me if I wanted to stay out for one more drink. Even though I’d had a little too much Malibu, I knew I was leaving tomorrow and agreed.

One drink turned into many and, before we knew it, it was 4.30am. One of the greatest things about a student town? You can get a vodka & coke for only £1.90! In spite of the fact that we seemed to spend the majority of the night fighting off local freshers (who, incidentally, looked so young, you almost felt like you were breaking the law just by looking at them), we had a good night.

Funny thing about student boys: They feel the need to get absolutely shitfaced before gathering up the courage to make their move on you. Rhi and I agreed that this sort of move must have been somewhat appealing when we were doing our undergrad because we probably got equally as shitfaced too. But these days, now that we’re in our mid-twenties, that whole “Youuuu’rrrrre ssssssssssoooooo pretty … *belch* You’ve got theeesssssss fan-*hic* fn-fntsssstic brssssttssssss … *slobber*slobber*slobber* I wanna sssssqueeeeeeeeze ‘em!” approach just doesn’t cut it.

Or are we just too picky?

Anyhoo, following the epic venture into undergrad territory, Sunday morning began like this:

After finding the strength to roll out of bed, I began to pack my things. It was time to go.

I can’t speak for Rhi because I don’t know what was going through her mind. All I knew was that we were heading to the train station to say goodbye and wouldn’t be in each other’s company again for at least a year. Not only does that suck because I’d discovered what an incredible place she was living in (which, in turn, had made me realise how much I miss living amongst my peers) but it also sucks big time because she’s my best friend. And what does someone do without their best friend?

At the train station, I knew there’d be tears but I seemed to be holding up well so far. None of it seemed real. It hadn’t really hit me yet. Then Rhi began to tear up and I gave her the longest cwtch I could until I had to get on the train.

She stood by the window as the train waited at the platform for ten minutes and it was only then that I began to cry when she made some goofy gesture that should have made me laugh. I realised that you can email, message, Skype your loved ones every single day you’re away but there’s nothing quite like being in their presence, being right there in their world, to witness everything they do or say.

The train began to pull away, I blew her a kiss, told her I loved her and waved until I couldn’t see her anymore.

What’s 12-13 months? Neither of us are dying and it’s not like we’re never going to see each other again. I know she’s got heaps of friends to look after her and a wonderful family right there, and I’ll bedistracting myself across the water discovering a new culture. But there’s no doubt that I will miss my best friend, my sister, the Yang to my Yin.

I bought a camera!!!!!

That’s right. No more ‘alf inching photos from the creative commons section of Flickr. I can now take my own! And I can also now document my adventures when I leave which will, of course, make this blog a little more personal (translation: From now on, there’ll be pictures of me all over your screen and up in yow face!)

As much as I’d love to buy a DSLR one day and teach myself how to use it, I don’t have time or money for one so I knew a good ol’ point and shoot was what I needed.

I scoured the internet for weeks looking for the perfect one: Something not too expensive but one that takes good quality photos. And here it is: The Nikon Coolpix S2500. It’s so teensy tiny but so important for my adventures. I can’t wait to share everything with you guys and all my friends and family.

First photos you’ll be seeing will come either Sunday or Monday night – I’m heading up to Aberystwyth on Friday to spend the weekend with my wonderful bestest friend in the whole wide world. It’ll be the last time we see each other before I leave so, needless to say, it’s definitely going to be emotional. But until those goodbyes come on Sunday, we’re going to forget everything and just have a whole mess of fun. Pictures galore!

Woop!

What’s the last little big thing you bought?

Photo credit.

Ever since I handed in my notice at work last week, everyone’s been amazingly supportive, constantly asking me about teaching, the places I’ll visit, the things I’ll see, what I hope will come from it, when I’ll be back. Not to mention the heaps of hilarious photos of Mexicans in sombreros and ponchos that have been emailed to me while I’m in the middle of a call with a passenger.

But one conversation I had with two of my colleagues last week made me really proud of myself and what I’m doing:

Girl #1: Are you going to be paid for teaching out there?

Me: Yeah. I’ll be getting a proper job and living there for a while.

Girl #1: How much do TEFL jobs pay in Mexico?

Me: Well, for the majority of full-time TEFL jobs I’ve seen in the big cities at schools or language centres, it usually equates to about £400-£500 a month. That’s a rough conversion.

The girls’ jaws drop.

Girl #1: I’d be livid if I saw that in my paypacket. I’d be like, ‘Where the hell’s the rest of my pay?!’

Me: It’s a lot cheaper to live out there, remember. Plus, that’s a really good pay compared to a lot of the poor families in Mexico .

Girl #1: Pffft!

Me: I’m not doing it for the money!

Girl #2: What are you doing it for then? (in a mocking tone) The love of the job?

Me: Yeah.

Girl #2 laughs. Girl #1 shakes her head like she can’t believe it.

This kind of conversation has one theme that’s been consistent during my teaching plans: Moola.

Some people react in the way my two colleagues did. They can’t believe I’d move to a country where I’m “obviously going to get murdered” and take a paycut so dramatic even though I remind them time and time again that prices in Mexico are not what they are in the UK.

And then there are the fellow EFL teachers who warn me not to teach in Latin America because “there’s no money to be made there at all. Go to Japan or South East Asia.”

Right.

I didn’t show interest in this line of work for money. I’m not doing it for the money.

The truth of the matter is that while money provides food and shelter, it can’t buy me the things I crave the most in life: adventures; exploring other culttures; life experience.

I became fascinated in Latin American culture last year when I was planning a RTW trip. A travel agent had suggested I go to South America instead of the United States to save myself a bit of money. Like most Brits, my images of South America were made up of what we’re fed through the media and films: a dark and dangerous place known for gun-toting drug dealers and kidnappers. Why would I want to go there?

But then I began to do my research and really fell in love with the sound of every single country in South America … and Central America … and Mexico.

Soon, my RTW trip turned into a Latin America trip.

And that’s when I came across Ernesto ‘Che’ Guevara’s The Motorcycle Diaries.

Like me, Ernesto was in his early twenties and embarking on a trip around Latin America. What started out as a party every night soon turned into something bigger. Ernesto discovered the poor, the sick, the repressed and the minorities, long shut out by the fat cats who ruled and took over the lands. What he saw changed the course of his life. He could no longer return to Buenos Aires to become a city doctor. He knew he needed to do something bigger for those people he’d met. He’d use his strengths and become a doctor of the people.

The Motorcycle Diaries overwhelmed and inspired me. I knew I wanted to help others too. But what were my strengths? I couldn’t be a doctor; I’d failed Science in school.

I had a degree in English. That had always been one of my strongest subjects.

And that’s when it hit me. Learning about the poverty and prejudice that still exists in Latin America, I’d also learned that the majority of children drop out of school at the age of 11-12 to start working to help their family.

Adults who attend English classes are there because they want to be. Learning another language often gives people more opportunities when it comes to working, earning money and providing a better life for their children. By teaching people my first language, by using my strengths to provide knowledge and education, I knew I could make a difference too.

It may sound like a naive, young and idealistic thing to say but, jeez, since when was there a rule that everyone had to be cynical and unhappy about their jobs? I might not end up the great revolutionary that Ché did, but if I manage to help people in the smallest way through teaching and/or volunteering in the countries I already feel so much passion for, why shouldn’t I feel good about myself?

I feel a connection to Mexico, Central and South America that I’ve never had while learning about the other countries around the world. The more I involve myself in reading about them, watching their films, listening to their music, getting ready to taste their food and learn their language, the more these countries touch my heart.

I’m not doing this for the money.

I want experience; I want to travel. But, most of all, I want to be on my death bed and know I made a difference.

And this is something I’d, once again, started to forget. When I signed up to learn how to become a teacher, I was filled with passion and determination. I knew there was no way I wouldn’t succeed because that’s how badly I wanted it. I’d never felt so determined about something in all my life.

But then that word started to haunt me: Moola. I know I don’t have as much money as I should and the list of things I needed to buy in order to take with me were adding up. The panic attacks were coming on strong again and I wondered how I’d ever be able to support myself if I ran out of money and ended up on the streets.

Everything came crashing down and my emotions were all over the place once again.

But friends and family stubbornly refused to let me lose it. They snapped me of it. Taking on board advice given to me by the wonderful Rachel and Rachael (now enjoying their lives in Guadalajara and San Cristóbal de las Casas respectively), talking to my best friend and my parents about how I was really feeling, and finally cracking open my teaching books to discover that the need to teach really does feel completely natural, my blood pressure was finally lowered and my passion and enthusiasm for what I want to do was restored.

I’m right back where I want to be. I’m excited again and feeling positive about what I’m about to do and I now know not to take things so seriously (I mean, who cares if I run out of money? Worst-case scenario: I have an emergency credit card that’ll help me get home). I need to enjoy every last minute of this ride and the journey to come, and I can’t help but feel incredibly happy and lucky to know that I really am chasing my dream.

25 Days to Go!

Photo Credit.

While rifling through my stuff the other day, I came across my old French Exchange diary.

For those of you not already in the know, when I was 13, I took part in a French Exchange programme my school set up. Me, a few of my classmates and a few other teens from the other schools in the town went over to Paris for just over a week to live like a French teenager. We each had our own host families, including a teenager our age who we’d accompany to school every day and take trips with around the city. Six months later, the French teenager would come over to Wales and do the same, living with us and our families, going to school and learning to be Welsh.

Just before we left, our French teacher, Madame O’Neil, gave us travel journals which we were to fill in with as much detail as possible … in French.

And, as a treat, I thought you’d all like a glimpse into the mind of the ever-so eloquent, first time away from home, 13-year-old me:

1 er jour

Dimanche le 22 Octobre 2000

Je suis alle a thoiry. Il y a fait chaud. Depart en car a 10h de l’Hotel de ville. Retour vers 17h30-18h a l’Hotel de ville. J’ai fait de promenades.

Day 1

Saturday, 22nd October 2000

I went to Thoiry (I believe I’m referring to the Safari park and Zoo – Zoo et Parc de Thoiry – in Paris). It is hot (Clearly meaning to say ‘Il fait chaud’). Depart by bus at 10.00 from the Town Hall. Back to 17.30-18.00 at the Town Hall. I did some walking.

~*~

2 éme jour

Lundi le 23 Octobre 2000

Je suis allé a Paris et college. Il y a sonnil. Je suis alle á Eiffel Tower. J’ai fait de promenades. J’ai le mal de pays.

Day Two

Monday, 23rd October 2000

I went to Paris and school. (I think I’m trying to say ‘Il fait du soleil’) It is sunny. I went to the Eiffel Tower. I did some walking. I feel homesick.

~*~

3 éme jour

Mardi le 24 Octobre 2000

J’ai suis allé en college. Espagne, Science et Mathematiques. Espagne – C’est complique. Sciences – C’est difficile. Mathematiques – C’est O.K. Anglais – C’est facile. Je suis allé Paris by night. J’ai regarde Eiffel Tower.

Day 3

Tuesday, 24th October 2000

I went to school. Spain (meaning ‘Spanish’), Science and Mathematics. Spain is complicated. Science is difficult. Mathematics is O.K. English – It is easy. I went to Paris by night. I look at Eiffel Tower.

~*~

4 éme jour

Mecredi le 25 Octobre 2000

Je suis allé en college. Je ne pas college. C’est difficile. Je suis allé Musee Grevin. J’ai regarde Jack Nicholson, Leonardo DiCaprio, John Wayne, Michael Jackson, Marilyn Monroe, Tony Blair, J.F. Kennedy, Ghandi, Queen Elizabeth I et Lara Croft!

Day 4

Wednesday, 25th October 2000

I went to school. I do not school (Think I meant to say ‘I don’t like school’). It is difficult. I went to the Musée Grévin (a fabulous waxwork museum in Paris that I’d recommend to anyone visiting by the way. More impressive than London’s Madame Tussauds). I look Jack Nicholson, Leonardo DiCaprio, John Wayne, Michael Jackson, Marilyn Monroe, Tony Blair, J.F. Kennedy, Ghandi, Queen Elizabeth I and Lara Croft!

~*~

5 éme jour

Jeudi le 26 Octobre 2000

Je suis allé en college. J’ai nage.

Day 5

Thursday, 26th October 2000

I went to school. I swim. (I’m actually surprised by this as I don’t remember going swimming but on the list of things I packed, written at the front of the journal, it does include a bathing suit and towel.)

~*~

And then there are pages and pages of blank space. Clearly I was born to write and speak numerous languages in the poetic and eloquent way I’ve displayed before you.

I will say that during my time as a French student, it certainly was one of the best experiences of my life albeit happening at one of the most awkward times of my life. (Ahh, adoescence – how I don’t miss you one bit.) I’m a little disappointed I didn’t finish writing my journal because there are clearly things I’ve written that I don’t remember (like going swimming).

But there you go.

At the time I took part in this French Exchange programme, I was homesick on the second night but, other than that, the whole thing seemed so natural. I mean, staying with another family, going to a different school where I didn’t speak the language well at all (Though I ended up learning more French in that short time than five years of school French would teach me) just seemed like an exciting but completely normal thing to be doing.

I remember being told by my parents that I could either take part in this programme or take a skiing trip to Canada with the school in January. I chose this but I remember being jealous of the holiday my friends got to take a couple of months later.

Now I look back, 11 years later, and wonder whether it was the natural wanderlust inside me starting to break free that made the decision. I think I’ve always preferred the idea of exporing a culture by living amongst it rather than spending a holiday at a resort. But back then I hadn’t realised this yet. I was just an awkward teenager, in love with boybands and Leonardo DiCaprio, suddenly finding myself in the suburbs of Paris, surrounded by teenagers who tucked their trousers into their socks and listened to rap music they Christened “black mafia!”

I look back on this experience as something incredible I did and, given the kind of town and schools the Welsh students and I attended back home, this was also a once in a lifetime opportunity. This was something a bunch of state schools from a working-class town was given and I realise now how lucky I am to have had the spark of wanderlust inside me ignited at an early age.

I’m leaving for Mexico a month today.

It’s only recently that I’ve really been made to open my eyes and realise how much beauty is in front of me and how many friends and incredible people I have supporting me.

When I was in school, I was introverted, shy and, to be a honest, a little weird. One of my best friends at the time was outgoing, pretty and kind of crazy. Everyone loved her. She was constantly surrounded by people who really enjoyed her company, did their best to make her feel special and always wanted to hear what she was going to say.

I wanted to be just like her and always assumed that those kind of people who can draw others to them are just born that way. They were the lucky ones.

Recently I’ve realised that this theory isn’t true. That kind of magnetism isn’t something only certain people are born with. The truth is, we all have it but don’t realise it.

And, for me, it’s not until I’ve found myself in a position in life where I’m finally completely at ease and happy with the way things are going, am confident and comfortable with myself, and truly striving to be that positive person and friend to all, that I’ve come to see all the amazing love and support that surrounds me.

I’m seeing all the people I’ve taken for granted in the past for the first time and really discovering what incredible friends they are.

It started with Michelle from That’s What She Read. I’ve never met Michelle in real life but we’ve been online buddies for a couple of years now. A few weeks ago I won a competition on her blog (that, incidentally, I didn’t know I’d entered) and won a book. As a bookworm, I’m always excited to be receiving new literature that I can lose myself in and eagerly awaited my prize through the mail.

What I wasn’t expecting in the package that arrived was this:

Sorry about the bad quality. Thank you, Blackberry.

Not only did Michelle send on a copy of the book I’d won but she included a book lovers’ journal, a box of chocolates (I’d show you the inside but the choccies have long since been nommed by yours truly) and a lovely handwritten note.

This kindness and show of friendship really overwhelmed me. As I said before, Michelle’s an online friend who I’ve never had the pleasure of meeting but this truly made me stop and think about how amazing the internet is in creating friendships with people from all over the world. The fact that you’ve never physically met doesn’t take away anything. Michelle not only knows that I’m a bookworm but she wished me well while getting ready for my big move – Something she cared enough to remember in spite of the fact that we’re a million miles away from each other.

In the same week, I received a postcard from the fabulous Andi from My Beautiful Adventures:

Once again, Blackberry: Making beautiful things shoddy since 1884.

Not only was I touched by her wonderful message but how little she cared about sending it internationally to someone she’d never met.

Then came the day in work when I finally handed in my notice. It was hard for me to pull myself together long enough to go through with it because I genuinely love my job and will be very sad to leave.

Needless to say, my team leader burst into excitement for me when I told her my reasons and exclaimed that while she’d miss me when I was gone, she wanted to know all about what I was about to do in Mexico. The same goes for my colleagues, my wonderful friends from work. They all ask me about my travel and teaching plans every day and ask for details before listening with a look of genuine interest anf fascination rather than showing the glazed look of someone who asked a question that they supposed they should ask.

One of the boys from my training group, a guy my age who spent last Christmas travelling around Mexico and Central America, came into work a few days ago with these to give me:

*generic Blackberry diss*

His old travel guides that he was willing to hand over to a friend and ask for nothing in return.

The sheer kindness and beauty of all of these people continues to astound me and realise how incredibly lucky I am.

Of course, I’m also neglecting to mention the wonderful friends I have outside of work who’ve bought things from me to help fund my trip, who badger me with texts every day to make sure I’m going to arrange that final gathering of everyone to say goodbye before I leave, who respond to my tweets and messages of giddiness about Mexico with so much support and love. And, of course, there’s my family who are also a pillar of strength and overwhelming love for me at the moment: They’ve dealt first hand with my stress, my panic attacks, my crazy emotions. I don’t know how they do it.

Lately, all of the people I have in my life, whether in the real world or online, have truly shown me how incredibly lucky I am. I’m the luckiest person in the world and am so thankful and grateful for that backbone they’ve created for me to lean on. Thank you, Michelle, for your wonderful parcel. Thank you, Andi, for the beautiful words and postcard. Thank you, Jake, for being so generous with your knowledge of the country I’m about to call home. Thank you, amazing readers for stopping by, reading my gobbledygook and leaving lovely comments. Thank you, wonderful friends. Thank you, beautiful family.

I hate to have everything pinned down and lose all spontaneity but given my financial situation and the fact that I’m on a tight budget, it’s definitely important to have a rough idea.

As a result, I think I kind of know what I’m doing once I’ve finished my CELTA course. I’m open to changes and not expecting anything to be precise but here’s my not so official itinerary:

Cancun – I arrive into Cancun on Thursday 3rd November but, sadly, won’t be taking advantage of the party scene straight away.

↓

Playa Del Carmen – I’ll be catching a bus straight from Cancun airport to Playa so I can get settled in to this beautiful beach town I’ll be calling my home for a month. This’ll be where my intense four week teacher training course will take place so, while I’ll be entering the town as a scared and shy foreigner, hopefully I’ll leave as a cool and confident teacher (with not too much sunburn).

↓

Cancun – Once my course is finished, it’s back to Cancun where I’ll stay for a night or two to experience the crazy (and pretty expensive) tourist scene.

↓

Havana, Cuba – This isn’t set in stone but there isn’t any place in the world I want to visit more than Cuba. As I’ll be in Cancun, I hope to take advantage of hopping across the water and spending some time on this Caribbean island.

↓

Palenque – Returning to Cancun and hopping onto a bus, Palenque is one of the destinations that’s famous for it’s incredible Mayan architecture and one I’m hoping to explore. This’ll be a perfect introduction to the history of Mexico and travelling hours at a time by bus is going to help me soak up the lands and culture.

↓

San Cristobal de las Casas – Not only is this city filled with incredible art, culture and sights but the amazing Rachel from RKA in LA resides here and I’ve promised her that I’ll pay her a visit. Get those tequila slammers in!

↓

Oaxaca – This city is said to inspire artists and travellers with its museums, indigenous traditions and beautiful mountains that surround it. I’ve never heard a bad word said about Oaxaca and it’s one of those places I know I want to check out for myself.

↓

Mexico City – The capital, one of the biggest cities in the world, and the place I’m crossing my fingers for that I’ll end up teaching here. As a 20something girl, I always feel at home in the largest cities. I know that this’ll be the place for me.

↓

Veracruz – Should I find myself staying in Mexico City as a teacher, I hope to have a weekend to myself to take a break and visit Veracruz. The moment I heard about its tree-filled square, the Zocalo, occupied by dominos players, cigar smokers, food stands, music, dancers, and the like, I knew I had to visit this place. Not only that but the cathedrals, lighthouses, ports and beaches immediately pull me in to something I know is right for me.

~*~

While I know this itinerary isn’t complete and there are still a thousand and one places in Mexico I want to visit, this gives you the general idea about the direction I plan to head in.

‘Citing, non?

As far as my to-do list goes, I think I’ve got it under control. I’m all booked up for accomodation until the 3rd of December, I’ve finally got travel insurance and my teaching course is all paid for.

This Thursday I’ll be handing in my notice at work and my big secret will finally be out in the open. I’m kind of relieved it’s so close now … I hate lying to people in work. I’m just a little worried about what my supervisors will say. I hope they’ll understand … I mean, heck, we work for an airline. Everyone there loves travel. They should understand why I wouldn’t want to throw this opportunity away.

So there it is.

We’re now 39 days away from everything. The panic attacks have come to a halt and I’m feeling much more excited about everything once again. Money should be the last thing I worry about. I just need to let the experience take care of itself, relax, and have fun.

1. Write an amusing post eight weeks from departure describing all those things you still have yet to do.

Make sure this post is light-hearted. While you do worry about lack of money, lack of organisation and lack of motivation, laugh it off anyway as something you’ll get done eventually.

2. Notice that it’s 3am and you’re still awake.

You have to get up for work in 3 hours. Why are you still awake? You toss and turn in bed for a while but nothing seems to work. Accept the fact that today will be a tiring day in work with many yawns. Repeat this whole process for the next five nights.

3. Realise that your appetite has gone on holiday.

You see yourself in the mirror there? Yeah, you’re looking good. You’re looking slim. Good for you; Working out and eating right.

Except you haven’t, have you? Don’t take all the credit. It’s your appetite. She’s disappeared for a while. Decided to go for a little pre-travel sunning.

Just succumb to the fact that while this fact is disturbing, at least you look good without any effort.

4. Wake up with flu-like symptoms.

Aching muscles all over your body? Headache? Short of breath easily? Feeling unbearably warm? (Even with the wind and rain lashing down outside?)

Trudge into work anyway. Speak to two passengers before throwing in the towel and signing yourself off for a sick day.

Once at home, confine yourself to your bed for the next couple of days.

5. While on sick leave, start thinking about all those things you still haven’t done. And the fact that you really don’t have that much money.

Wonder if there are alternative, cheaper accommodation choices for your TEFL course and let the fact that there aren’t consume your brain. Lose the ability to talk about anything else but this fact with your loved ones.

Develop a sick feeling in the back of your throat.

6. Break out into spots like a teenager.

Ensure that these aren’t just a cluster of spots in one area. Make sure these spots are evenly spread on every part of the face – like chickenpox.

7. Have Aunt Irma come to stay.

Because if there’s a perfect time to have your uterus go all Animal from the Muppets on you, it’s now!

7. Fall down the stairs.

Ensure this happens when the aches in your body are finally starting to ease.

Sprain your hand. Damage your coccyx so badly you aren’t able to sit properly.

8. Wake up with the stiffest neck of your life.

Thank Google for the fact that even though it feels like you broke your neck falling down the stairs yesterday, you didn’t.

9. Have a series of very public anxiety/panic attacks in the space of one day.

Reccommended places are:

- In the post office while delivering the items you’re selling.

- In your kitchen, in front of your mother, just before you leave for work.

- In your workplace, in front of your whole team.

- In the one-to-one meeting your team leader impulsively dragged you into to stop you freaking out your workmates.

- In your house once you arrive home from being put back onto sick leave by your worried superiors who can “clearly see you’re still not feeling well and are probably worrying yourself over taking too much time off to recover.” (Uh huh, yeah, that’s the reason.)

Anxiety attacks (or it could be a panic attack – I can’t tell the difference) should display the following symptoms:

- Uncontrollable and hysterical crying. (So much so that your make-up has turned you into a perfect blend of Alice Cooper and something from the Night of the Living Dead.)

- A racing heart. (The kind that makes you wonder whether it’s going to jump out of your chest a la Alien at any given moment.)

- Constant muscle tension all over.

- Shortness of breath.

- Shaking/Shivering. (Either one works and freaks people out to the point where they wonder if you’re having a fit.)

- Sweating.

Follow these steps carefully to ensure your pre-travel mental breakdown runs smoothly and efficiently.

Once mental breakdown has arrived, congratulate yourself by inviting your friend Jack over to numb the pain.

This is what we call 'Sexy.'