Less than two months before we go. We're spending hours at the gym (still fat Americans, alas, but we're hoping to be less daunted by heavy backpacks and hilly routes). We're fretting over what to pack, and burrowing into guidebooks and travel anthologies. We've still got to find someone to stay here and keep an eye on the mail, the cats, the tenant, and handle anything that may burst, break, or blow up while we're gone. Plus we need help with the imposing new mortgage.
We have a video camera. We'll probably bring a laptop or at least a PDA, for writing. Should we do what Rob does and get a phone that takes different chips in different regions? Being connected sounds reassuring. But do we want to be that reachable?
And where do we start? This week I'm pushing for maximum culture shock: let's start in India! Walter's not so sure. Mostly I want to be far from San Francisco for a while. I love this city, but I keep being reminded of how I felt during finals in college. I'd spend so many days staring at textbooks that I would stop being able to focus my eyes more than a few feet in front of me. I feel like I've lost the ability to re-focus my brain. I've become mentally myopic.
Our pretty new globe sits on the coffee table, daring us to close our eyes, point, and jump. I run my fingers over mountain ranges, span continents with my hands. But before we go, we have to plan. Backpacks, visas, walking shoes, phrasebooks, sunblock. I worry about everything. I have at least five bookmarks about squat toilets alone.
Soon enough, we'll know what we overpacked, underpacked, overprepared, and just plain forgot about. Soon enough, we'll be somewhere entirely new.