Did it even happen? Did I hallucinate the last year of traveling? All I know is I’m six-ish months out of the nomadic life and yet I can still feel the tingling phantom pains of my previous tuck-and-roll, job-free self. Sometimes it truly feels like someone hacked off a piece of me and then proceeded to just dangle it in front of my face like a sick sadistic fuck. “Remember me? Bet you wished you had me again?” I miss my travel life like whoa. It was a part of me. My limb of adventure. My can’t-live-without-you vital organ that just shut down.

It’s always odd to say that something “changed” you. What does that even mean? Isn’t that up for interpretation? You may think you’ve changed, but does everyone else see it? Shouldn’t they be the ones to inform you that you did indeed change or are missing this hypothetical limb? Isn’t the fact that you have to inform people you changed proof that maybe you didn’t? It all sounds so pretentious. “I’ve just changed.” It’s the ultimate c-word. It’s drinking with your pinkie finger sticking out. It’s telling all of social media how much you love your significant other. We get it. Can we move on now and talk about something else?

But wait, no we can’t. Because it’s like ALL I want to talk about. My missing limb. My imaginary child that I want to bore you with details about. “Look what adorable Mabel did when she was just 4 months old? She walked across Spain, bitch.”

To be 100% honest, I don’t necessarily think the last year of traveling changed me. Unless you count changes to my waistline (10 lbs to be exact…but who’s counting? Oh wait, I did). Ah, the weight of the world. Pants. Fit. Tighter. Must. Go. To. Pilates.

After all, I still curse a lot and love puns. I still drink like a fish. See? Samesies. But I would like to think that travel made me less of a dick. Maybe. Again, that’s up for interpretation. I don’t think of myself as a different person. I wasn’t a caterpillar that turned into a butterfly. I’ve always been a beautiful butterfly, obvi. Only now my wing has a slight tear in it because butterflies don’t have limbs. Right?

Traveling opens your eyes. It challenges you. It can give you that nervous tummy (which may just be the runs from that questionable meal you ate). Or it can give you the butterflies. It can reinforce your beliefs or bitch-slap them back to reality. Change? Meh. I think traveling teaches you. And if that ultimately changes you, well…

I think the biggest thing traveling taught me is how unbelievably lucky I am. I would say blessed, but I hate that word. It’s almost more pretentious than informing people you’re a changed person. And if I could punch every person that adds #blessed to a photo or post online, I would.

Lucky. Most of us are. And by us, I mean the very people reading this blog. You know who you are.  You are waiting in line at Starbucks. You are swiping on your fancy iPhone as you sit in your overpriced apartment. You are typing this blog post on your MacBook while sitting in a big comfy chair in your Rockridge sublet sipping organic tea. Ahem. Say it with me. WE. ARE. LUCKY.  The rest of the world? Yeah, about that. Some are lucky. A lot aren’t. Some though are just happy to have a roof over their head, even if it leaks. Some have no electricity. Some call themselves lucky because they found access to clean drinking water for their family. It’s everywhere. The lucky and the not so lucky. But if you are lucky to be called one of the lucky ones, don’t be a dick about it by taking it for granted.

Yeah, it sucks when wifi doesn’t work or when Trader Joe’s ran out of that Greek non-fat yogurt you love. I’m with you. I’ve complained (and still do) about little things. But now I tell myself to get the fuck over it. Because…I’m one lucky motherfucker. And when I feel myself being a sour patch kid, I look myself in the mirror and tell myself to snap the fuck out of it because life could be so much worse.

Now don’t get me wrong, life slings some shit our way. Nature disasters seem to be everywhere these days. But I’m talking about little rabbit-turd-like things that people think are big, diarrhea-esque things. Just like that pesky zit/was-it-even-a-zit that I had on the corner of my mouth for over a month, the little things don’t kill you. Although I totally self-diagnosed myself with terminal cancer at one point over said little thing.

And yes, our President (if you’re a US dweller) is the biggest piece of shit and totally sucks major balls. But at least I can openly say that without fear of getting killed. Which, BTW, happens in Cambodia. At least I can walk down the street and see signs like this and know the whole country didn’t go crazy (only those that voted for him did).

I’ve also come to realize that the news is heartbreaking. Hence why I turned off news alerts on my phone. It really seems like the world is being ripped apart at the seams. But to quote K-Fed in the stoned Britney Spears video you can find here, “I don’t think that’s true.” I think that there is far more good out in this world than assholes driving into crowded tourists spots or people taking advantage of the Second Amendment and shooting up a music festival.

After a year of traveling to some not-so-nice places, I’ve learned that most people are good. Most love. Most care. And the others? Well, it’s our job as the good people to band together and form a super group of smothering love perhaps in the shape of a giant middle finger. Oh, and donate, protest, etc.

I also learned that life isn’t all about work. Towards the end of my job, a job I had for over 5.5 years, a job I loved, and then loved to hate, I became so angry. I would sigh heavily in meetings and roll my eyes as if the entire company was Helen Keller and couldn’t see or hear my negative Nancy attitude. Maybe they couldn’t? But I could. It wore me down. Until I put in my notice that I was going to travel. Then I was all like:

Taking a year off of work was amazing. I know some aren’t lucky (there’s that word again) to do it. But if you can, I highly recommend it. Yes, we need to work to pay the bills and you know, survive. But we don’t need work to be work outside of work. Let it go. It’s hard. I know. I used to have my work email on my phone and would obsessively check, but now? F it. Contractor mentality, coming in hot. Work/life balance. On second thought it shouldn’t be a balance. It should be living your life and work is that person that’s there to give you money after you do it a favor.

And as I settle back into the working world, after being absent for so long, it’s easy to have it all come back to you. The daily stresses. The anger. It’s muscle memory. Even after a year, I find myself slipping. You want me to change my copy?! Personal attack on my character! Then I dig my feet in, I grasp onto anything from my past nomadic chill life and I hold my breath. Did the real world knock me down? Did it see me see it? I try to visualize myself here…

Instead of focusing on the fact that I’m not there, I’m here…

My newfound ‘tude may seem like an I-don-t-give-a-fuck ‘tude, but it’s not. It’s just I try to remind myself, less stress is best. Because at the end of the day, I’m not curing cancer. I’m trying to sell you an eyeshadow palette.

I’ve realized that like any good vacation, long or short, post-travel blues are real. Like there should be a diagnostic test to determine if you suffer from PTB (which totally sounds like an STD). There could be a course of action to get over said PTB. Instead of how I’m currently acting. Must. Not. Think. Of. Past. Don’t look at your amazing photos, it’ll only make it worse. But then you do (because you’ve had wine). And it does (because you’ve had wine).

So instead of that bullshit ‘smile because it happened’ mentality. How about you make it happen again? Maybe it won’t be as epic. But my fellow traveling spirit animal, Simmi, has it right when she suggests taking mini travels to ease the symptoms of PTB. So I went to New Orleans last month with my childhood bestie, Laura, sans boys or baby.

I also learned a bunch of small things that actually are big things for those who want to travel. A lot.

Like always get a place with a mosquito net and make sure that shit is new and hole-free. Otherwise, you’ll wake up in the middle of the night to that annoying buzzing sound all up in your ear. And then spend the next hour trying to find out how the fuck that mosquito got into your fortress.

I learned that carrying toilet paper with you, especially in Southeast Asia, is a lifesaver since most toilets don’t have any. It’s BYOB. You can drip-dry by all means, but is it ever really THAT dry?

I learned that less is truly more. You don’t need a lot to get by. For reals. I wore the same shit over and over and over again. And when I got back, did I run to the store and buy new clothes? No. I actually wore the same shit over and over and over again. I guess I just got used to it. If I had a nickel for every single time someone would comment on our packs, inquiring “is that all you have?” I would be a millionaire. Ok, maybe not a millionaire. But I could buy a lot of cheap food in Asia. The reality is, you truly need no more than what can fit in a 40L pack like these ones…

I learned that a small, portable speaker is a traveler’s best companion. One, it entertains. Two, it drowns out the noise from your neighbors. Walls are thin pretty much everywhere. I mean, when you’re paying less than $40, what do you expect?

I learned that people since the beginning of time have washed their clothes in a tub of some sort, so why pay for laundry when you can use your tub/sink…or a Scrubba? Which, btw, is the best damn purchase. Look into it.

I learned that you don’t have to do anything you don’t wanna do. You are a grown-up so if you don’t want to do that one thing that everyone says you HAVE to do, don’t. Don’t feel bad about it. Don’t think ‘oh but I really should’. You’ll probably just end up regretting doing something you didn’t want to do. Which is why towards the end of our travels we just owned the fact we didn’t want to do touristy “cultural” things because 99.9% of the time, it’s not cultural. Having local children dance in front of me just makes me feel all sort of uncomfs. Dance for the rich white people! Can I just donate money to you and we skip the song and dance routine? Great. Thanks.

I learned that being a tourist and a traveler are two completely different things. Tourists go to cultural events. Travelers just blend in like one of the locals. They eat at local restaurants. They stay in off-the-grid locations or homestays. There’s no better way to experience a country than by living like they do. Which, granted, in some countries, is a bit more challenging to do than others.

I learned that shoulder season is the best season.

Don’t shrug it off. Chase after the shoulder season. We did. Rates are cheaper, it’s less crowded, and the weather is just as good. We experienced Santorini sans crowds. Sometimes we were the only people at a beautiful rooftop restaurant. At Goa, everyone was goa-ing somewhere else. Mind. Blown.

And after all your traveling, if you didn’t learn at least one new thing, get the fuck back out there and do. Because life is too short to not learn from someone, somewhere, something. Be it small or big, learning makes the motherfucking world go round.