A year ago June, just before I graduated with my MFA in creative writing from UC, Riverside, I had a chat with my friend Michelle. Since she was the person who could make sure I graduated, I had stopped by to make sure of just that. After we cleared up the details, I told her I wasn’t sure what to do next – that there was no fabulous job yet, and staying in the desert did not fill me with unbridled joy. The truth? I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do, and, whatever, it was, I didn’t want to do it here.

Now, if you’re a person who is discontent about your situation in life and yearn to change it, do not talk with my friend Michelle. She’ll just ask you questions like, “Well, if you could do anything, what would you do?” And she asks so disingenuously and openly that a person can’t help but tell the truth. She pulled that on me.

“Well, travel. I would travel.”

“So go to work up in Santa Cruz again, make some money, and travel.”

Well, that was easy. So I did go back up to Santa Cruz and work with an academic summer camp program, after which I embarked on my Western States Tour 2010 – 7,000 miles in six weeks. This blog is a product of those weeks on the road.

After I returned, Michelle and I met for dinner. Her daughter had just returned from world travels to points Asian and Pacific, and I listen with envy as she listed the countries and the cool things she had done (including being evacuated from the path of a cyclone in Australia). I, however, had still not secured a job, had not moved to either Santa Cruz or Missoula, Montana. Here I sat, once again, ambivalent about what I wanted to do, where I wanted to go.

I wondered aloud if I could possibly take off for a few weeks. Six weeks, maybe, or a couple months. How could I do that?

“Well, why not?” Michelle says. Or something to that effect.

Months passed. It was nearly a year past graduation and still I had no job and no plan.

In May, I started getting serious about going to New Zealand. A friend of mine told me to make a pro/con list. She looked at it.

“That’s not a con. Neither is that. Those are fears.”

Ok. So I’m fearful of taking off to the other side of the world. But that doesn’t stop me from wanting to.

“Do the thing you’re afraid of.”

This woman has hiked the Pacific Crest Trail, and large parts of other major cross continent trails. She knows of what she speaks.

So I decided. I have another friend who says that we are deciders, not doers, and once we decide, the doing becomes easy. (Why the hell do I listen to these people?)

Before this gets to sound like a Marianne Williamson retreat, let me just say that it finally occurs to me that if I’m serious about doing this, and not just wishing that I could, I had probably do a little research about travelling, how much it would cost, how much hostels cost (could I really room with three 20-something backpackers and share a bathroom?) Turns out a person can travel with little money and impose upon the kindness of strangers. Housesitting. WWOOF-ing (more about that once I get to New Zealand). The bottom line is that you don’t have to do guided tours and stay in really nice hotels in order to travel. That is perhaps the difference between being a tourist or being a traveler. (More about that idea and Paul Bowles’ book later.)

In June I put all my things in storage and left for Santa Cruz once again to work with academically gifted kids. In August, I came back and imposed upon the hospitality of a friend until my departure from Los Angeles on October 10.

Various friends in the know advised me to pack light. One of them who worked in the diamond trade and carried a little pistol in a thigh holster (just in case) said, “One black bra, one nude bra, a few pair of panties, you can rinse things out in the hotel sink. Black clothes, and pick a color to accessorize.”

Okay, well, I packed more than that (a couple more bras and panties, for sure) but I didn’t pack a lot. Note the flatness of the suitcase – expander panel reserved for the way back. Also note all the room in the duffle, allowing me to bring my Dr. Martin boots, a stylin’ choice. All in all, my luggage consists of the duffle, the rolling suitcase and a messenger bag that holds my laptop and some books. If need be, this messenger bag can be packed into the duffle.

Off I go.