Okay, so now that I have your attention, I’m excited to announce that this blog has been read in 51 countries. Granted, I haven’t even visited 51 countries, but this blog has. Thank you to every person who has read, liked, or shared my blog with a friend or family member.
I’m still new to this exploring game, but if you have any questions about traveling or working abroad, be sure to comment on this post and I’ll be glad to share my insight with you.
With Love & Gratitude,
Karissa
As many of you know, I sailed off for Antarctica a month ago. On March 25, 2015, I got on the Ushuaia MV and set sail for Antarctica. My port city was Ushuaia, Argentina. The pictures begin in Ushuaia. What you’re getting ready to see is my journey along the way. My goal of seeing all seven continents by my 30th birthday has been reached, finished, accomplished, and yes, fulfilled. Thanks for your support along the way. They say that a picture is worth a thousand words,
It´s my first night back in Argentina. I think I´ll get some shut eye and digest what just happened a bit more tomorrow. I want to write more. Really, I do, but I can´t seem to find the words. Oh, and this keyboard is a bit strange too. I´m using the hostel´s computer and I have to figure out the correct symbols in the morning. No energy for that mystery tonight.
It’s Friday the 13th and it’s been one year since I came to Saudi Arabia and one month since I started this blog. Thanks for helping me reach nearly 1,000 visitors, 2,000 views, 31 countries, and six continents in just one month!
A special thanks to all of you who have supported me and cheered me on from my first teaching assignment three years ago in China. You add fuel to my fire in the most amazing way. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. I can’t write about all of the things that I’ve learned in this past year, but here are a few that came to mind.
What I’ve learned:
2. The sand dunes here are just like the Windows desktop screensavers, but even better.
Sandboarding in Riyadh last year.
3. Water is more expensive than gas ‘round these parts. Hearing about it is one thing, seeing my friend fill up for just a few bucks blew me away.
Three years ago I moved to a dreamy city in China called Hangzhou. One of my favorite things to do after work was to go to the foot massage shop down the street from my job. For a few bucks you could get a relaxing foot massage to put you at ease, but the best therapy was this lil’ guy who gave me loads of laughs. His parents worked at the shop and he was always around to give me a plenty of entertainment.
This video captures one of our priceless moments. I never fully understood him and he never full understood me, but we absolutely, without a doubt, knew that we had a ball together.
Xiao Peng You means
It was an honor to meet this man named Karisa. Before I left for Kenya, a Kenyan friend of mine let me know that I had a man’s name and I’d probably meet a man named Karisa while traveling. Well, I met two while in Kenya. I learned that the Chonyi name for Karisa means shepherd or herder. What an honor to carry such a great name.
I’ll always cherish my time with these warm young men in Luang Prabang, Laos. They’d love to see you, so make sure you venture out to Luang Prabang when you’re in the lovely country of Laos.
Karissa in Mombasa, Kenya
The expat life isn’t too hard. Your housing is usually covered. Your transportation is provided too. And there are even times when you’re given a stipend for food, or it’s provided for you in the cafeteria. But life’s not too hard. Not really. It’s a cinch.
Or maybe you’re experiencing another expat life. Your housing isn’t covered. You walk to work or cycle. You are content with eating off a buck a day and you’re relieved if the AC works when it’s over 90°. You signed up for this life. It’s a challenge, but it’s what you chose.
But what happens when life tosses you something that you didn’t choose? What happens when tragedy strikes back home and you’re 7,000 miles away? Those niceties mean nothing. All the perks suddenly seem pitiful. Nothing can replace the feeling of being home when hard times hit the people you love.
I started writing this piece last week. I actually only wrote the first two paragraphs and then something else grabbed my attention, so I stopped writing. But when I woke up yesterday, I saw text from my mom. “Call me when you wake up.” I’ve gone nearly three years without seeing a text like that from her, but I knew something was up. I wiped the crust out out of my eye, pulled open my Magic Jack app, and she picked up.
“Hi, Karissa.”
“Hi, mom. What’s up?”
“I hate to start out your day like this, but your godmother passed away last night.”
**silence**
**more silence**
I know she’d be sick for quite some time, but death is so final. It’s sudden. It’s bitter. And when you’re not there and can’t be there, it stings even more. Since I’ve been away, I’ve been surrounded by other expats who have experienced heartbreak while living abroad. Deaths in the family, devastating terrorist attacks, social injustices, and natural disasters hit us hard. I mean, hard.
So, what do you do? Do you stuff yourself with videos covering the madness? Do you binge on Google searches—hoping there’s a new update about what just went down. What do you do?
And then there’s the flip side. When tragedy strikes in the country or region where you’re residing, you’re bombarded with messages from loved ones expressing their concern—tossing their warnings and suggestions, and asking, “How far away are you from _______? Are you okay? You need to come home.”
Living abroad isn’t always a cinch—especially when it comes to matters of the heart.
So, this is what I’ve learned and am learning to do:
1. Breathe.
No need to create another tragedy because of your break down from the loss. Take some deep breaths. Take a walk. Drink in some fresh air. But most of all, breathe.
2. Express.
Find some way to express your sentiments. Whether it’s through writing, calling home, or finding a friend nearby, find some way to connect. Talk to someone. Write something. Scream. Pray. Meditate. Release your frustrations and pain. Someone is there to listen.
3. Act.
Sometimes you can go ahead and buy the ticket to go home and be physically present. You can’t put a price on that. Other times, it’s just not possible. You can’t take off work or it’s just not mandatory that you return home. But do something. Give a call. Skype with your friends or family back home. Become an activist through social media. Whatever it is, act on it.
So, when those matters of the heart that hit you when you’re not at home, realize that you’re not alone. There’s still hope. And peace is definitely less than 7,000 miles away. It’s closer than you think.
sevenby30 