I’ve been cataloguing my thoughts, my wishes, my fears into writing since I got my first diary at six years old. Then the internet became a thing, and I kept writing to express myself through Xanga, Live Journal, and now this newsletter.
Although, some of that stuff needs to be burned! I can’t imagine ever sharing the stuff I wrote about my childhood crushes, it is beyond cringe-worthy. But I've saved most of it because when I read my old writing, I feel like I'm traveling through time. I get to peer into the head of my younger self, to understand her hopes and dreams, her fears and pains.
That’s why I'd been lamenting the loss of the writings from my 2013 travel blog. 2013 was the first time I had traveled alone for such an extensive period of time. It was magical, full of serendipitous moments, and not without its growing pains. It was the seeds of my self-awareness campaign and I captured that evolving worldview in writing.
However a few weeks after coming home, I let my travel blog get covered in digital dust, and negligently let my domain expire (to the new owner's delight). Now years later, I'm aching to remember the last fleeting moments of my innocence, pre-cancer, pre-career, and pre-domestic taming.
Then... a MIRACLE happened! A few weeks ago, while I was wistfully lamenting my travel blog to my cousin, she mentioned that there is a digital archive of the internet called, "The Way Back Machine."
What?! 🤯
Once I got over the fact that it's just a little bit creepy that anything EVER published on the internet is being systematically and diligently saved, the excitement set in.
Somehow serendipitously stumbling across the Way Back Machine HQ itself while out on a stroll in the San Francisco Richmond district with a friend this weekend.
To my delight, I recovered my published writings from 2013. Here's a piece from March 19, 2013, typos, bad grammar, and all for your enjoyment!
Time capsules and armadillos
El Chalten is the self-declared Argentine trekking Capitol of the world. Here, quite a few special memories were woven into the tapesty of time with 3 of my incredible fellow travelers. Serendipity would have it that I meet Maya in El Bolson - a town that draws in artisans, permaculturists, bee keepers, new age hippies and hipsters... We were both from Oakland taking a gap year after graduating. She had an Dartmouth education and was on her way to medical school. We were both Aquarius, Blood type O, and champions of health and sustainability. I could see many aspects of myself reflected in her, soul-discovering and independent. Except for only being 23, she had a conviction and wisdom that exceeded many people much older. I was inspired. She invited me to Patagonia, and while I had plans to farm, I also had plans to live life unplanned, so I went!
We met up with 2 exchange students studying in Brazil. One was a fellow Dartmouth colleague, a tall thin progressive Mormon with buzz-cut hair, equally as intellectual but slightly more absent-minded. He fell in love with Brazil after his 2 year mission there, and returned with a full scholarship to study Latin American politics and economics. With him was a French architecture student, a muito legao brightly clad hipster who in one conversation declared that France had no need for sex education because everyone knew how to do it. I had an incredible time with these 23 year old clowns. They schooled me on the topics of Ivy league mainstream culture, traveling Isrealis, the French way as the best way, and testing your maximum sugar intake.The last of which continually put me into an afternoon sugar coma.
Together we went trekking along the Patagonian Andes. Each leg of the trip rewarded us with glistening blue glaciers and skylines dotted with rainclouds over shark toothed summits. My plan for this year was to chase an endless summer, hence zero necessity for wind, rain, or cold preparation. The weather was in incredible...And then it rained... And the outcome? Well rain water quickly became bricks in my backpack, my shoes became mud buckets, and my "rain jacket" became no more useful than a plastic bag with holes. I could feel every pebble under my feet and I couldn't walk without ibuprofen. Preparation definitely buffers against these kinda things.
Let's just say there was a lot of personal reflecting during that 7 hour trek back to town. Note to self, do not wear semi barefoot shoes on feet unready, strap 30lbs to your back, and prance around giant jagged edged boulders as if you were born with billy goat blood. That is how stress and compression fractures happen.
Anyways, we finally got back to town at about 7:30pm, decided we would rather be dry and warm indoors, than wet with an extra $5 in our pockets. Still drenched, we needed to find the grounds keeper to get all the dry clothes we had left behind. I imagine anyone who saw us must've thought we looked pretty ridiculous. We were 4 rain drenched kids who had spent their last bit of cash on hot chocolate milk in a town with 1 ATM that closed at 5pm, running m looking for a place that accepted plastic currency and wet 20 something year olds so we that could have our victory meal. I must confess that I am ashamed for my misery loves company mentality, I was kinda glad everyone was equally unprepared. Fortunately for us, this was no Antarctic expedition.
Our victory meals were the fattiest lambchops and saltiest canned soup, but at the moment nothing could taste more divine. We were ravenous! Afterwards, we continued our search for the missing groundskeeper. But we didnt find him.
Instead we found Nacho Libre and family. Apparently, this doppleganger is Argentine, on vacation with his pop and two half brothers, and studies Latin American politics. They were a free spirited group who were real easy to like, especially after they offered us warmth by an openfire, overly sweetened instant coffee, and grilled roadkill armadillo. Before the night was over, they had invited us back for an asado the next day. We had no idea of things to come.
Who could've imagined Papa Nacho rapping about his former wives and single life, burying a time capsule, Nacho Libre raffling off a pair of work gloves, adjusting everyone, and getting kicked off the campgrounds? Argentine, American, French, German, Chinese, and Jew- "we are all humans made with blood and bones, all equal and just sharing a moment" said Papa Nacho. All of this factored into an incredibly random evening, but these fleeting moments shared amongst humanity are also arguably the most beautiful.
I allowed myself to just observe these last few weeks.. Yes I could've asserted healthier food options, more detailed planning, and wiser spending, but I didn't. Instead, I watched as the universe unfolded. There were no frustrations, only life lessons. Also, the smallest victories give great satisfaction when you have little to no expectations. All was well, everything as it should be.
Tomorrow I am hitch hiking back to El Bolson to farm as I had planned before. Except I am a lot more committed now that I've scratched the travel itch until it bled. Bank funds are low and I only have 80pesos left in cash, but I have never felt richer. I am unbounded. This is liberation.
TIP No.6: Spontaneity breeds revelations. If you are looking for an adventure, drop off your expectations, your ego, your 'shoulds', 'woulds', and 'coulds' in the toilet. Plan just enough to let the rest go unplanned. And always remember it's more than okay to salvage a plan after you throw it out...
- Maymie Chan, March 19, 2013.