I basically threw an RFP out there into the world to see what ideas came my way for moving abroad. I could leave that sucker open forever and keep taking applicants or I could shut it down. And I decided on the latter.
I’ve sat with just these three for several weeks now and can’t decide. In fact, my forerunner changes day to day – sometimes hour to hour.
Now, in honor of Halloween, you’re about to see something scary: how my mind works. It’s not for the faint of heart, I warn you.
Here’s some of the thoughts that I’ve juggled:
If I want to go to Australia, I have to do it now. That visa program’s only good through age 30.
But Australia’s basically a western country like the US. Would it really be that much different? Would I really find it interesting?
Then again, it could be a good training ground. I could do that for a year and then, if I like living abroad, try for Peace Corps.
Peace Corps isn’t a sure thing, anyway. They only take 25% of applicants.
But wouldn’t that be the very definition of exciting and interesting – living in a third world country?
And then I kick myself because I’ve stalled on my Peace Corps application submission as I can’t decide for the “location preference” question.
South America would be awesome because I’ve wanted to climb the Andes. Machu Picchu! Plus becoming fluent in Spanish would be so cool, and I already know a smidge.
But Africa! Wow! Would I get to live in a mud hut? That would be sweet.
Or Mongolia! Live in a yurt!
Or Kazakhstan or Jordan – one of those Middle East / east-Asian locations. Would be amazing to meet the REAL people there that we Americans have a tendency to lump together and label “terrorists”.
Or the Pacific islands somewhere! Zillions of people flock there for vacation. I’ll bet Fiji would be interesting.
Wherever I go, I’d become fluent in another language – which would be awesome.
Plus, they take care of your health care. No need to figure out the insurance hassle.
But it’s a big commitment. Two years. I’ll be 32 when I get back. Maybe 33.
And then I start thinking about the marriage thing. Scorn me all you want, feminists, but I know what I want – to have a companion to share life with and start a family of my own.
Thirty-two’s not too late to find a husband, right? Everyone I’ve known has gotten married in their 20s.
Maybe I should go to Australia. I already know the language. Plus, Aussie accents? Hot.
But Europe would be amazing! Just looking at Amy’s pictures on her blog I start daydreaming and drooling. The architecture nerd in me comes bounding out.
And Amy’s one of the nicest people ever. It would be awesome to see her and meet her hubby. And make art together!
Oh, but I don’t want to impose on them either. That wouldn’t be good manners.
And if you went there (or Australia) you’d have to figure out things like international health insurance coverage.
And how much money can you really make as an English teacher, anyway? Enough to pay the rent? And insurance? Buy food? Travel?
Because you do realize, Alissa, that if you were in Europe that it wouldn’t be that hard to travel to other places in Europe. Like, say, Cinque Terre, Italy? That place you’ve wanted to go ever since college? The place you had a 3000 piece puzzle for?
You know where else you could visit? England. Perhaps in July 2012. Maybe Aimee might let you sleep on her rug for a few nights while during the day you ran out and just soaked up the atmosphere of the INCREDIBLE phenomenon that is the Olympics.
Then again, if you went into the Peace Corps and ended up in the Ukraine you’d learn to speak Russian. And you could go to the games in Moscow in 2014. Maybe even get a job as a translator. For the US speed skating team. And meet Apolo Anton Ohno.
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I think that I think too much…