Not So Ready Anymore

I chose the name ReadyRachel because I was ready.  I was ready to go on my trip.  I was ready to see the world.  Once I was in a hostel in Germany and a boy came in with a knife and a bucket of warm water.  “what are you doing?” I asked. “I have an ingrown toenail” he said, “and I need to cut it out”

“Well here, I have some nail scissors and antiseptic if you want” I said, considering he has just lukewarm water and a Swiss army knife.  “yeah, that would be great” he said.  So I brought him antiseptic and nail scissors and a Band-Aid.  “you have a whole medical kit in there!” he exclaimed.  Like a Boy Scout, I was prepared.

Throughout my trip I gave out aspirin and directions and moral support.  Backpackers create a strange community. I’m not friends with all of them, I couldn’t be, but we are there for each other.  Every person you meet becomes the person you need to meet at that time.  When my tummy was getting butterflies from thinking about boys too much the next girl I met was my best friend who I had known forever and could give me advice.  When I didn’t know where I was going next someone would have just been somewhere great, we all have stories.  If I showed up in a Chiang Mai and didn’t know anyone I could meet Sara who I stayed with for a week, I could take a cooking course because she was taking one, I could go to Cambodia because she was there.  We were roommates for 5 days but looking back it feels like we traveled forever.  She’s not the only one. Time flows strange sometimes.

The more I was ready for, the more happened.  I was ready for ingrown toes in Europe, I was ready for cold and rain, I was ready to sleep in a hostel or a train.  I was ready to rock climb in Asia, I was ready to eat all animals, I was ready to sleep on a bus, or a bus platform, to pay $9 for a ride that could be 8 hour or could be 18. I was ready to talk with anyone, I was ready to take scary boats with unclear destinations and I was ready to befriend almost anyone.

I don’t think that one can stay ready forever though.  I don’t think that one should.  A few weeks ago I was hanging out with some friends when one of them got a bloody finger.  “does anyone have a band-aid?” he asked.  I looked in my purse, but I did not.  For 9 months I had always had a band-aid.  I was no longer ready.

So what’s the point?  I don’t know where this blog is going.  But until I figure it out, I’ve started a new photo based blog, a blatant rip-off of a girl I went to school with who has a wonderful blog of life and domesticity, which is what I am ready for now.  So check out RetinalRachel which may keep up to date on what I am doing, or at least seeing.  And I hope next time I get a cut on my finger there will be a ReadyPerson there with a band aid, because I don’t think it’s me anymore.