I will eat noodles

I can't decide if I'm terrified or excited.  I've had the gut-wrenching, oh-my-gosh-I-want-to-puke feeling in my stomach for a week.

When my little sister was about three, because I had nicknamed her Noodle, I told her that some day, we'd get on a plane and go far across the ocean and eat noodles in Italy.  I remember it was a sunny day, and she was standing in the back of the red Dodge while I was driving.  The air conditioner wasn't working, and I was really just trying to keep her distracted so she didn't puke in the car.  She was notorious for that when she was little.  She had on a white outfit with big red polka dots, and I had put her hair in ponytails.  "Jens," she said as her eyes got really big, "I love noodles!"

We both remember that day...me mostly because for some crazy reason I feel like I need to keep that promise I made at the ripe age of 16.

Noodle is now spending her days lounging in Shanghai...when she isn't getting hauled to the police station for hours of questioning.

In five days, I'm getting on a plane to meet her in the Middle Kingdom.  A place I have wanted to visit since I was a tiny kid and someone told me if I could dig a deep enough hole, I'd come out in China. In high school, for academic decathlon, we studied Chinese history for social studies one year, and it only peaked my curiosity.

In five days, I'm getting on a plane, traveling for 22 hours and 55 minutes, to meet my sister in a place where aside from three words, jai mei=little sister, bu=no, and tsing-tao ('cause this girl WILL need a beer), I know nothing of the language.  I've read everything I can about the customs and culture, refreshed up on the history, know enough not to mention Tibet or Taiwan or anything about Japan and WWII, and still find myself absolutely terrified.  Excited as hell, but mortally terrified.

The first rule anyone ever tells you when you travel is this: Do not draw attention to yourself.  Seems easy enough...until you consider the fact that I'm 6'1", white, and have blonde hair.  I also tend to talk with my hands, ALOT--a small detail every single book I have picked up for this adventure tells me NOT to do.  Let me repeat the importance of this: I DO NOT KNOW HOW TO TALK WITHOUT USING MY HANDS!     

I once took my sister snowboarding, when she was 10, on a 30" powder day and abandoned her at the top of the mountain and told her I'd see her at the bottom.  I taught her how to hit road signs with my empty beer bottles on the way home.  We taught her how to say bad words, and told her the dentist was mean and drilled holes in your teeth.  She loved ham, and I told her, after she spent a day playing with baby pigs, she was eating "pig bum."  I once told her the boogie man lived in her closet, and she refused to sleep in that room ever again--which only bit me in the ass, 'cause forever after, until I moved out, she slept in my bed.  For some strange reason, this is the same person that also wrote a paper in high school about how I was her hero...see, she's just not right in the head.

Now, with all of that Karma on my shoulders, I'm trusting the victim of my horridness, who also happens to be the girl who spent three months of her life pretending to be a cat, to pick me up in one of the biggest cities in the world then show me around the place.  I'm questioning my rational ability right now.

I now understand why a persons criminal record is erased at 18.  Dumb ass promises should be erased from the record as well! Teenagers do NOT make rational decisions, and I should not be held to that promise.

Actually, I'm so excited I've found myself for the last three days telling anyone who would listen, "HEY!  I'm going to China!"  Like they care.  Then I find myself at the most random moments wanting to squeal like a little kid "EEEEEK!!"

I'm terrified, and I haven't done anything I have found this terrifying since I left my first marriage.  But, I am going to stare that fear in the face and defeat it, and have the time of my life.

There are so many things happening right now that have me scared.  Change is scary in so many ways, and I'm actually more scared of the changes that I will be coming home to.

I felt like my entire life crashed to the ground a week ago,and that is not even a metaphor, and I almost cancelled the trip.  But, I will be a pheonix, and I will stand up to take the next punch.  I am reminded of harder times, years ago, and if there is a way to figure out the rest of my life in ten days, walking through ancient temples, laughing with my sister, eating noodles, and remembering the things that really matter in life, I intend to find that path and leave my footprints in it.

I bought a new leather bound journal.  I have been so blocked, for so long, I'm just hoping a new pen will fill the pages and free me from the hell that has been on my shoulders for over a year and only leaves me with blank pages.

I've never been much of a talker; writing has always been my means of communication, so when it fails me, I feel lost....something I've felt for a while.  So, maybe getting lost, in a language I don't know, where I am so different I'm foreign (LOL), thousands of miles from home, intruding on the kindness of others, is maybe a way to find yourself.  Maybe its a way to reconnect with how strong you really are.  A way to remember that when you feel your weakest, its the universe's way of reminding you how strong you really are.  Maybe we all need reminded of our humanity, by throwing ourselves at the mercy of others, and having faith that no matter where you are, kindness is universal.

So, I will eat noodles and I will fill that journal with words every day.  I will find the words I have shoved into the dark, and I will give them light.  I will make sense of it. I will put one foot in front of the other, and break a trail if I have to.  I won't be scared...of my words, or of people, or of change.