What was I thinking?

I often wonder why my brain works the way it does.

Just one month ago, I altogether gave up coffee. Cold turkey. And I haven’t touched the stuff since. Tomorrow, I am flying into Colombia... a country that boasts one of the best coffee roasts in the world. In fact, my hostel in chilly Bogota offers free hot coffee service All. Day. Long.

What was I thinking?

Two weeks ago, I purchased a shiny new pair of Newton running shoes (which by the way are awesome). "If I wear these out the door now, can you donate my old pair for me?" I asked the salesman. Old Asics trainers, well-worn, comfortable, and absolutely perfect for trekking around South America, were thus left behind.

What was I thinking?

While hastily packing up my old apartment in New York, I was all too happy to minimize my possessions by donating or selling as much as possible. One casualty of the move: my trusty green Eagle Creek traveler’s backpack – the perfect size bag, the one that had molded to my frame and fit me perfectly, the same bag that had traveled to all corners of the globe with me during the last 14 years – was tossed into the "donate" pile without a second thought other than: I am too old to be backpacking!

What was I thinking?

In this gap between New York City and Location-To-Be-Determined, I hoped to go somewhere peaceful and calm where I could practice yoga – maybe take a teacher training course – do some writing, pitch some article ideas, prepare for the State Department exam, apply for a Fulbright... Instead, I find myself getting shot in the ass with a Yellow Fever vax, packing up a new wheeling duffel bag (it has backpack straps!) with every medicine known to man, leaving behind both my yoga mat and my laptop, and embarking on a one-month tour of South America.

When I booked this trip, I don’t know what I was thinking. But I am pretty sure that when all is said and done, I won’t have any regrets.