T-Minus 4 Weeks

I'm anxious by nature. When I was little, I would psych myself out by imagining the horrible things that could happen to my parents: they were abducted by aliens, copied, and the aliens were in zip-up suits waiting to eat me; they didn't really go out to the store, they left; they dropped dead of heart attacks and I'd live with my grandparents for the rest of my life.
As it turns out, anxiety can't be cured by time, but with a little blue pill. If not for that little miracle, I think I'd be freaking out right now. Of course, I'm not exactly chill in a hey-man-relax-no-worries kind of way either. I'm just a bit on edge. Will one bottle of shampoo and conditioner be enough to last two months? Will I have enough socks--or worse, enough underwear? Will I forget something key, like tampons? (They don't sell those there. What they use instead is beyond me, but I'd still like to remain in the dark about that one.) Will I be able to carry enough reading material to last me throughout the two 12 hour travel days cushioning my stay?

Mommy found the hiking boots I liked and they came in the other day. (They aren't high above the ankles like Melampy suggested. Tough. They don't weigh ten lbs. like the ones that did. )

My socks, 3 pairs of light-weight Merino wool blend, and 3 pairs of liner socks to keep my tooties from being blistered were nearly as much as the boots themselves. Preposterous! Who prices these things? Did a lamb sacrifice itself on a loom to give me each pair of sweat-wicking socks? Really? Several days later, I found, much to my chagrin, the same brands in Berea's Whitey's Army Surplus Store for quite a bit less. Ahh!

I'm setting up a Skype account so I don't have to bother with an international calling plan from Verizon. Eschmidt31190. I want to hear English, people! Create an account so I can hear my mother tongue!

T-Minus 5 Weeks

The first week of school is usually the easiest: first days are spent stretching a three-page syllabus to fit an hour and fifteen minute time slot, no readings-- since half of the students have yet to receive their Amazon.com purchases--and students are self-consciously silent, waiting to observe who raises his or her hand, waiting to see how the professor will react. But my first week has been anything but conventional.

Preparation for the trip entails cramming about eleven credit hours (out of the seventeen total for the semester) into six weeks. While this is an excellent move on the part of Professors Martin and Melampy, it makes me cringe when I look at my itinerary. MWF 10-12, W additional lecture 5-8:30pm, T Th 9:30-11:30 and 2-3:15. Not even I, the pretentious and prideful bookworm, am happy at the copious amount of reading assignments.
I am a martyr for the cause of world travel.

Along with intellectual knowledge, I've been accruing a shocking number of very odd objects to take along with me:

-Snorkel, fins, and mask, all on clearance at Dicks for their pasty, I'm-a-touring-American blue color: $39.99

-38 LED head lamp, much reminiscent of a Cyclops eye, courtesy of eBay: $5.89

-101-pocket High Sierra backpack, complete with iPod holder, water bottle sleeve, cushioned laptop case, key fob, sternum and hip latches, parachute, and small llama to carry the damn thing for me once it's full: $53

-Three vials of magma forced into my shoulder (Rabies, Typhoid, and Yellow Fever shots): $235

-An armful of Ecuador and Galapagos wildlife guides filled with terrifying toothed fish and green snakes: $0. (Thank you, Mommy!)

-Hiking boots tough enough to hike over volcanic rock, waterproof enough to hike through the Amazon basin, and light enough to allow my wimpy legs to lift them off the ground: $? Still haven't found a suitable pair

-Rolls of toilet paper (yes, toilet paper): $2

-One trip to El Mitad del Mundo: Priceless