I’m a woman. I don’t think I enjoy “roughing it”. I don’t have to be one of the guys. I don’t like to be dirty. I don’t like having hairy legs. I don’t like being the only female around a bunch of dudes…they need their own space.
I think I’m supposed to have short, cute hair. It’s way more functional. I’m supposed to have smooth legs, because when I look down and see my legs, they don’t look or feel like mine.
I slept in the most disgusting place ever- to my standards. I will leave the name anonymous because the staff was super friendly and the other guests were quite intriguing. It was a complete sausage-fest though, as most hostels are.
It wasn’t horrible for dude standards, but it definitely woke me up to my femininity. I slept on a top bunk of a mattress that probably was infested with some type of disease. I had on camouflage pants, and a sweater. I slept with no blankets and a pillow of sketchy descent. I was afraid to turn over because I thought the bed would have collapsed onto the Australian guy underneath me.
I was very proud of myself for making it one night. I would have been able to handle one more night of sleeping in a room with six other guys from around the globe, but I’m glad I ended up in Santa Fe for the weekend instead.
I realized when I hiked a trail the next morning that the only way I am competitive to male standards is when it comes to physical endurance. When it comes to germs or cleanliness, I am a girly-girl. This is a huge step for me to admit.
Another realization I have come to understand is that I have mega-control issues. I don’t really let other people in or trust them to do things for me. This actualization occurred when Nick pointed out that I wouldn’t let him drive.
OK. For my defense, I just bought Louis and I was a bit nervous to turn the wheel to someone else. If something were to happen, which I doubt it would, I wouldn’t want to think that we could have avoided the situation. I’d rather just take the blame.
However, once I did give it over, I was able to get a lot more done. I could write while he drove…or read…or sleep…or whatever.
I guess I’m just so used to doing everything myself. I don’t want to get used to someone being there because one day they may not be. But I guess I can handle the situation if they aren’t there and should appreciate it when they are.
In conclusion (for the moment), I’m starting to understand more about myself after one week on the road. I’m starting to see what I am, and what I am not. It’s quite lovely.
The stars are amazing in Santa Fe. It astounds me to think that we are all just star dust. Poof.