Boredom + Childhood Dreams = Late Night Expedia Browsing

When told I am moving to Germany for nine months most people nod, smile, then ask the confused, "so, why?"

And I respond how my parents raised me, politely, I explain about finding a job as an au pair, discuss my German language skills (or lack thereof), and brush over the process that made me realize I am young and should go for it. I do not answer how I would like to.

"Why not?"

After I finished harvest in 2012, I moved back to the house in Spokane I was renting with 5 other 20 some year olds, and started working at the first place that offered me a job. The job was part time, included many hours staring at Excel and answering phones, and required me to buy skirts that went past my knees. I worked five hours a day, would ride the bus home, change into sweats, and sit in front of the TV and discuss dinner options with my roommates (Taco Bell or should we splurge for Applebees? Take out of course). I would climb into bed at around 10, and spend the next few hours surfing the net, window shopping on dating sites, designing my own Parisian apartment, or playing Oregon Trail. I was bored. Bored out of my mind. I had a college degree, yet the thought of grad school gave me hives. I had a comfortable savings account, thanks to a drawn out harvest. I had a car that I didn't drive and and a student bus pass I had lied to get.  Student loans hadn't kicked in yet. My roommates were either working full time or in school and rarely home. Cold weather set in, as did my yearly Seasonal Affective Disorder (with the very accurate acronym of SAD). I realized my weight gain from the stress of my senior thesis hadn't left, and if any thing had been added to  by the bowls of candy at the office, one of the few acceptable reasons for me to leave my desk and wander the office.

In a nutshell, I was entering a depression, and based on my numerous past experiences, I was greatly annoyed and pissed. And so one October night, accompanied by a roll of toilet paper to dry my eyes (cheaper than Kleenex), a bottle of gas station Riesling, and a bag of M&Ms, I asked myself three questions. What do you want to do? What would make you happy? What would it take to do those things?

These were the answers:
What do you want to do? The same thing I have always wanted to do since I was a young child, travel, write, and learn. 
What would make you happy? A pet giraffe, I'm sure. That or Joseph Gordon Levitt as my boyfriend. But more seriously, to travel, to write, to laugh daily, and to maybe get paid for it. 
What would it take to do those things? Well, a exotic animal breeder permit for the giraffe maybe. To travel I need some extra cash, to write I need motivation and paper, and to laugh and be happy? 

That night, while working my way through the bottle of wine, I devised a plan. I would find a way to travel, I would make myself write, I would see a giraffe in the wild (and then one in a zoo so I could pet it), I would not worry about having a boyfriend, I would get in shape, I would combat my mental illness and depression with my best weapon, myself. I would feel content.

I immediately started looking at flights to Germany, other Americans' experiences with moving to Germany, absolutely adorable lofts in Berlin. I choose Germany because I had friends there, I had minored in the language, I had been there before, and Europe was so small, I could see many countries on a budget and in a short period of time.

Sometime that night, I stumbled out into the living room where various roommates and friends were gathered watching TV and eating junk food, ignoring homework. I tearfully stated that I was moving to Germany. The one reaction I remember the clearest was my friend Colten, who simply stated, "Of course you are." He did not mean it in a condescending way, more as a blunt statement. "Of course you are." Of course Amelia would move to another country. Of course she would not go the traditional route of grad school, marriage, kids, 9 to 5 job. Of course. My tears quickly dried, and with Colten's voice ringing in my head, I went back to the drawing board. Of course this was meant to happen. Hadn't I been telling people since I was six years old that I would travel the world? Hadn't I minored in a foreign language for a reason? Hadn't I taken the mundane office job because I knew I would want to leave it after a few months? My lease was up in May, I had harvest cash stashed, and a valid passport. Of course.

Over the next few months I meticulously planned my adventure. I spent hours on google reading blogs of American travelers through Europe, I contacted friends and acquaintances who had lived abroad, and I saved money. With an idea of what monthly rent, travel expenses, and a visa would cost, I set to work. I started couponing (way easier if you get the app), I found odd jobs as a dog and house sitter, and as luck would have it, I was promoted to full time work at the office. Student loans kicked in and I cut back on movie tickets and taco bell. Through many trials and tasteless dishes, I learned to cook.

As spring approached, my parents started having their doubts. A job in Germany was not yet secured, and governmental and immigration agencies were telling me "its near impossible" through unanswered emails and voice mails to find one before I moved. From a recommendation from a college classmate, I looked at au pair sites that matched nannies to families. I set my top location at Germany, and wrote an online profile, eerily similar to one I had on a dating site. I spoke to a few families, and was offered one position, when I came across a chubby cheeked, black haired infant. I instantly fell in love, and messaged the parents. Six weeks later, contracts were being drafted and signed, and I was now actively tracking flight prices as a farmer does the weather.

This was in spring of 2013. I had lost some weight, gained some muscle, been through a small but harrowing car accident, and had worked hard in "business casual" skirts and flats. Late May I put in my notice at work, although I wasn't leaving until July. In late July I left the office life, with the realization cubicle life would of killed me if it hadn't been for my amazing coworkers who supplied me with endless amounts of gobstoppers, laughs, and the understanding that they had once been 23, idealistic, and unable to get out of bed in the morning.

Harvest came and went, quicker than I would have liked for overtime dollars would fund my adventure. I bought a flight, a brand new suitcase, backpack, camera, computer, cellphone. One warm Sunday afternoon in early September I puttered around in dad's '92 Chevy Extended Bed Pickup, killing it twice as I lumbered through the fields learning to drive a stick shift for the first time.

I was ready to go. Anxious and out of my mind terrified, but ready and excited. As I stuck around after harvest helping with paperwork and filing I was met with the same question I had heard almost a year ago. "So, why?" My answer had not changed much, "I'm just not ready for grad school. I minored in German. I love kids."

However, inwardly I answered the question, "Because I can. Because I have wanted to since I was six. Because I am young and idealistic and bored for adventure. Because, why not?"

It is now early October, almost a year has passed since I have made my decision to make my own adventure. I am now not working, and will use the next few weeks to pack and get ready (and yes, clean my room, Mom). As those closest to me will attest, I am anxious, and scared, and excited, and more confident than I have ever been in my life.

I am doing what I want to do. I am traveling. I am writing (kind of). I am going to see the world, or at least, a part of it I have not yet seen. I have worked extremely hard to get to this point, and I am hella proud of myself.

And welcome to my travel blog, where I will detail my adventure, my childhood dream, and how your twenties are made to not give a shit.

"Your twenties are your 'selfish' years. It's a decade to immerse yourself in every single thing possible. Be selfish with your time, and all the aspects of you. Tinker with shit, travel, explore, love a lot, love a little, and never touch the ground." (Kyoto Escamilla)

Now, raise your Riesling, and lets toast to being 23, being selfish, travel, and thanking our Good Lord that I didn't set my sights on a pet giraffe.