Confessions of a Gypsy

Traveling is not for everyone. I am extremely fortunate to experience the world but along with that comes a bit of a price. I've had my fair share of struggles in the past six weeks but have just neglected to write about them. My mother reads this so I was a bit apprehensive. I have decided to come clean about some things so that those of you slaving away in New York don't think I'm on a permanent vacation. So here goes:
Bless me father for I have sinned, it has been (literally) 20 years since my last confession. I will start with the farm. This experience I would not give up for the world but it was time to vacate the premises. It was beautiful and I learned so much and I still keep in touch with the other wwoofers. Besides the hours being too long, I sensed a bit of animosity from the owner. Thinking that I was being sensitive, I mistakenly ignored my intuition. As it turns out the woman's husband left her for a wwoofer and currently lives at a nearby farm with her. They are in a messy divorce over the ownership of the farm. It explained a lot. We were desperately needed there but not wanted. I was ecstatic about moving into the house from the freezing cold caravan even if it was to the storage room. One night in particular was the deciding factor to my departure. As I mentioned before it's extremely dark there at night. So dark in fact that it's as if there was black construction paper on the windows. 'The darkest comes before the dawn' has a whole new definition for me. At 3am, the night prior to my final night there, I awoke because of my full bladder from drinking my usual twenty cups of tea for the day. I always have to pee in the middle of the night and I love it. It's a natural high for me to get back in bed and look at the clock realizing that I have an abundance of sleep remaining and drift off into a deep slumber. It's the little things. The room I was sleeping in had a door connecting to the house and also one to the back of the house to get outside. If I walked through the house, the dogs will bark and wake everyone, but I was too scared to go outside in the dark where I can't see a foot in front of my face. I was not happy with my options and there was no way I could wait until morning. About to wet myself, I impulsively grabbed a bowl from one of the boxes and relieved myself. Midstream, it seemed like a brilliant idea but subsequently I stood there looking at a bowl of urine with no idea how to dispose of it. Panic set in and I decided it would be best to conceal it until morning. The moment the sun rose, I took it outside and poured it in the grass. This was also the precise moment I came to the executive decision that it was time to move on. I have lived on my own far too long to be at someone else's mercy 24 hours a day. I wish I could tell you that the story ends here. Remember I told you about the artist guy who was a friend of a friend? I lied, I met him at the train station. The town was not in my guide book and I walked around for a few hours trying to find a hostel or internet. I asked to use his iphone to find a hostel and he offered my a place to stay. At this moment you are saying to yourself how stupid I am and what a dangerous predicament I could have put myself in. Trust me when I tell you I could have wrestled his ass to the ground if need be. French men are not the most masculine.
When I was in Provence, I was in desperate need of a bikini wax. I wasn't sure what to ask for so I went into a place that was similar to Sephora with a spa upstairs. None of the women spoke English so they called over the security guard and had him translate. Awkward it was, this old man explaining different types of waxing to me. The woman did a great job but had her cellphone cradled between her shoulder and her ear yelling at her teenage daughter in french. It is amazing the quality of service when the tipping system is not used.
Twice I was offered a ride and both times it was like that of a carnival. The first time I was near the farm. I had blisters on every single one of my toes from the trek back and forth to town, so myself and two of the other wwoofers got a ride up the hill from a man who owned one of the neighboring farms. He had random eyebrow and nose hairs that were about two inches long. As he was driving us up the windy road in his rickety old hatch back that was barely holding the weight of us, he laughed the whole way and was pretty much telling us he was the psychopath of the town. That was hilarious actually but the second time was not so funny. I got out of a train station and trying to find my way but apparently I was interrupting the conversation of the women working behind the desk at the station. A man with two little boys insisted that I come with him and his family since they were going to the same exact place. I agreed with some reluctance and got in the car where his wife was waiting in the driver seat. She scanned me up and down with the look of death. She kept turning around while driving and leering at me the whole way with sheer anger in her gaze. She didn't speak any English and they yelled at each other profusely the entire way. He laughed and said "my wife is jealous". When we arrived at the destination I said thank you and jumped out of the car while still in motion.
Finally, so many men so little bullets! I love male energy and have some great men in my life but I'd like to bet the bullshit is the same around the world. I try not to make it obvious that I am a solo traveler by doing things like looking at a map for too long, but I am still a sitting duck sometimes no matter how hard I try. I've gotten very good at being direct with with these pathetic creatures who seek vulnerable women but it is still insanely annoying having my beloved solitude interrupted everyday. I could go on forever about relentless men with foot fetishes and fools with their paltry pick up strategies.
Getting rained on and walking around a strange place with a soaking wet map, sleeping in 10 person dorm rooms, long bus rides and carrying a 30 pound bag where ever I go is well worth it. I'm in Amsterdam as we speak, need I say more? What I have experienced thus far, I will never regret. I loved my clients and almost all of my coworkers in New York but my job was just not the place for me. So I remind myself that even when things are at their worst, it's still better than that godforsaken linear place and all is well.