ADVENTURES Archives - Hacker.Ninja.Hooker.Spy.

My New Motto is “Trust No One, Enjoy Everything”

Back when I traveled around SE Asia I encountered a pale white woman sitting cross legged in a matching white kaftan that looked like something out of Dr. Strange’s wardrobe. She had a cigarette in one hand and a can of coke in the other and all my fellow backpackers were gathered around, hanging on her every word as she detailed the spiritual experiences she’d had in India. I only lingered long enough to hear this nugget:

“Once you’ve been to India, the temples in Thailand are shit.”

Obviously I longed to achieve such spiritual enlightenment for myself, and now I’ve done it. Alex and I just got back from spending a couple weeks in India and Nepal and you’re not going to believe my transformation. I left the states a wayward and anxious writer and returned as something I never thought I’d be:

An endorser of essential oils.

You can thank New Delhi for it’s pollution and laws against Sudafed, because I was left treating my sinus infection with a bottle of peppermint oil. And you guys, it totally worked. I’m a believer now. I take back almost everything I’ve ever said about people who use essential oils, except not really so please don’t DM me with an offer for $65 bottles of Nettled LilyPad Juice.

Seriously though– beyond the touring and adventure, I think the greatest value to be found in travel is the experience of connecting with people and a culture you otherwise wouldn’t know anything about. Someone asks a basic question, like “why do so many Americans love guns?” and you’re suddenly explaining The American Revolution and the Civil War. Then it’s their turn to explain their beliefs and their history and about 30 seconds in you begin to realize just how much your own culture has made a caricature out of theirs.

Know this: We’re far more alike than we are different, and the things that make us different are worth exploring and seeking to understand. Don’t listen to anyone who tries to convince you of the otherness of a person or place, because they almost certainly stand to benefit from your ignorance. Don’t let them.

It would be impossible to write a single post about everything that happened on this trip. And if you’re one of my Facebook friends/followers then you’re probably begging me not to, because I already wrote almost daily recaps on there. Instead, I’ll just link to what I already wrote– but photos and slightly-ignorant insights don’t do any of this justice, which is why all of you should probably go and see it for yourself.

I have a feeling my site is going to struggle to load all this, but it’s worth it. Here’s a teaser: Tigers, Gurus, Himalayas, and Wily Youths Smushing Colored Powder All Over My Face.

NEW DELHI

https://www.facebook.com/aussa.lorens/posts/2077223002510336 [Read more…]

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America has a gun problem. But it also has a willfully-ignorant human problem.

50 Comments by Aussa Lorens

I don’t have kids. This is a thing I’ve thought about. Depending on who asks, I’ll usually answer the “why not” question with something glib and vague– like “well, I like being selfish.”

This weeds people out of the discussion because many already assume I’m selfish and are just looking for confirmation. So, here you go. Bye.

But one of my major hesitations is that I’m terrified by the prospect of having a child. I know I’m writing about something I fundamentally can’t understand because I haven’t experienced it, so I’m speculating. But I feel like having a kid is like taking the purest most innocent part of your soul– the part that was there from the beginning, before the cynicism and nihilism and jaded residue built up– and putting it inside a more vulnerable vessel that doesn’t know how to take care of itself without your help. Then, after a short period of time, you start letting that piece of your soul wander off into the world without you. Out into a world where people are interested in destroying it.

I’m not sure I can handle that. So I guess I’m selfish because I don’t want to invite the vulnerability of worrying whether my child– this soul-bound part of myself– is going to die in a violent moment of terror because the country I was born into prioritizes the earnings of the gun industry over the inevitable profit and loss of a few dozen murdered kids every year.

I’m about to travel outside my country. This is a thing I do. Depending on who asks, I’ll usually answer the “why” question with something glib and vague– like “well, I like adventure.”

But the truth is I like seeing how other humans are doing– and have done– Life. And because nothing expands your worldview and exposes the limitations of your mindset, assumptions, and prejudices quite like getting outside the bubble you were born into.

Most of the time my thoughts want to go ZING BANG POW but instead they’re slowed to a crawl, constantly pausing at mental checkpoints to examine the source of my judgment, the belief informing it, where that belief came from, and whether I might be wrong– which I often am. It’s not fun. It’s so much more comforting to be right, so right, the most rightest, shake your fist and roll your eyes and “ugh, people.”

I came from the same world as most of the humans I find myself arguing with on social media. I know this vicious debate thing is a part of our culture but I’m not particularly good at it, and it’s frustrating because it feels like arguing with a past version of myself.

Or with a frog stuck at the bottom of a well who’ll never be convinced the sea exists.

Just this morning someone told me it’s illogical to compare ourselves to Australia because they have “a very different culture.” First of all, what? Second of all, you’re the person advocating we station armed guards outside schools so kids are safe. Guess where else they do that? Nigeria. Because of Boko Haram. That’s your grand vision for America? [Read more…]

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Notes on my most recent attempt to be interesting

26 Comments by Aussa Lorens

I’m sorry to say we did not die on our trip to Spain and Morocco. Nor did we ALMOST die. I know, super disappointing. Why even travel?

But I took a lot of amazing photos and ate a lot of tapas tapas tapas (I don’t know how to say that word only once—it exists to be chanted with a fork in your fist whilst banging a table and sloshing wine about).

I take a LOT of notes. Whether I’m hitting my 20^th country (shameless brag), at a stoplight, or in line for my annual trip to Walmart (kill me) I just have a lot of thoughts. But when I pulled up my notes from this trip, most of them were not really about any of the places we visited. Go figure.

Note #1 – We had to call our bank because the ATM wouldn’t work. They asked us to verify who we are by giving an estimate of how much money we have. Sorry, robot. I can tell you what shirt I’m wearing in four days but I have no idea how much money we have. Which is probably a bad sign. I CAN tell you it will be about $10 less because I’m calling you from Madrid on my iPhone right now.

Note #7 – It’s remarkable how much Spanish I didn’t learn in school and yet how helpful In the Heights has been. Though my fifth grade Spanish teacher is entirely to thank for the fact I didn’t try to fight the woman cutting in line for the bathroom because she just needed to wash her hands.

Note #12 – Alex just ate my face and when I asked him what it tastes like he said “edits.”

Note #14 – If I had to define my ideal travel destination it would be: “stray dogs and sheep. Uneven sidewalks. Chickens in the car driving next to you.”

Note #22 – Pretty sure the #1 argument in favor of marriage is so you have someone to go through US Customs with you.

Note #23 – In my passport photo I look like I want to kill someone. In my Customs photo I look like someone else tried to kill me.

Speaking of all the ways I let you down (by not almost dying) it DID rain while we were in Morocco. Which is in Africa. I promise I blessed them, you guys, I blessed those rains down in Africa so hard. But I didn’t get a video, which means it didn’t happen.

I’ll do better next time, promise.

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How many weapons do you think I can hide on my body?

30 Comments by Aussa Lorens

There’s a slight chance I’m already dead by the time you read this, because I scheduled it in advance. Alex and I are (hopefully) in Spain right now and you know what Bilbo says—it’s a scary business, flying coach to Europe when the (supposed) leader of the free world is trying to start wars all over the place.

We’ve both done our due diligence to be prepared.

Alex:

… Googles the entire history of the country

… Learns the seasonal weather patterns of the region

… Signs up for State Department travel warnings and notes the nearest US Embassy

Aussa:

…Selects the most raggedy “I don’t have money I’m not worth it” clothing in her closet

… Backs up iPhone because it’s probably going to get stolen

… Hides money and weapons all over body

When it comes to travel, Alex now does most of the major planning. I only have a few basic questions:

How much safety/personal liberty/dignity must I sacrifice to save $10 a night?

Is it a bad idea to wade across crocodile infested waters?

Should I accept rides from strangers I meet on the flight over?

How many times do you think I can re-wear this same pair of pants before I have to throw them away?

Beyond that, the majority of my planning comes in the form of deciding which audiobooks and actual books I’ll be taking along. I’ve abstained from binging S-Town for this very reason and am waiting to start A Torch Against the Night until my seatbelt is fastened and my tray is in its upright and locked position.

I guess it’s a good thing I married someone like Alex. He buys travel insurance and forwards our itinerary to his parents. I’m not sure why his parents need to know where we are, but I assume it’s so they can start an IndieGoGo if we’re captured or imprisoned or something.

I mean, if I’m going to be held hostage then Spain seems like a good choice. I’ve seen Chocolat, I know what tapas are.

Also. We’re spending a couple days in Morocco. Which is in Africa. Rains might get blessed.

You can probably find out if I’m still alive by checking Instagram, Twitter, or Facebook.

Fingers crossed.

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I got catfished. Because you can’t trust anyone on (or off) the internet.

52 Comments by Aussa Lorens

When I was 24 years old I booked a one-way flight to Eat. Pray. Love. my way across China and Southeast Asia: Adventure! Self Actualization! A Journey Inward!

I also got drunk alone a lot.

China was a new kind of lonely. No longer self-imposed, but absolute. There were a million people within a six-foot radius and I could communicate with 0% of them. So I did what loners do (Hi, guys) and started a small blog to keep in touch with friends (all three of them) and family (who never read it).

But then someone started leaving comments. Her name was Renee and she’d also spent a year backpacking by herself! She was fifteen years older than me and randomly stumbled across my blog. We had so much in common and she really seemed wonderful, so I decided to take our relationship to the next level: I gave her my email address.

I know it’s hard to imagine, but I used to be really good at keeping secrets. I know I’ve told you about my sex life, the psych ward, and my ex’s naked photo, but back then I was just a dread-infested twenty-something on the 7^th floor of a Chinese apartment.

Suffice it to say, I was primed to pour my heart and soul out to this person.

We started with the usual stuff:

“Haha I can’t identify the food I’m eating this is so fun I think I have dysentery but this is what your 20s are for, YOLO”

And moved on to:

“I feel fundamentally flawed and am all alone in this world, shouting into the void.”

Our correspondence went on for several months as I opened up about all sorts of things I’d never even told my friends. Then one day I saw a new email from her and the first line, visible before I opened it, said: “Aussa, I’m afraid I haven’t been completely honest with you.”

Turns out she hadn’t just found me online, how crazy, she’d actually been sent my way for a very specific reason.

By my parents.

TLDR; they asked her to befriend me so I would trust her when she suggested I get back in touch with them.

I’ve felt foolish at many points in my life, but nothing wounds quite as much as discovering you’ve shared something with someone but JOKES ON YOU they already knew it and that’s why they cozied up to you in the first place.

Apparently she lived with my parents when she was a little girl. They’d been foster parents and even though they only accepted boys she was somehow placed with them and it was THE BEST TIME OF HER LIFE. Listen, Crazy. I’m glad you have such great memories from 1978 but a few things have happened since then.

I never emailed her back, even though I’m sure she meant well.

As you may have guessed, I failed to achieve self-actualization by the time I returned to the States. Instead, I embarked on a whole new tour of life’s dumbest choices. I was still caught up in trying to run from things I didn’t want to think about, creating diversions for myself and everyone else and keeping my mouth shut about all the things I knew I couldn’t say.

Then at some point, I just stopped: running, keeping secrets, trying to convince anyone I was anything other than exactly what I’d always been. It was all the best sorts of cliches: a weight lifted and a clean slate and a fresh start.

But not everyone likes it when you stop being whatever they’re used to you being.

I recently received a message from someone who knew me before I started writing online. They think I should be ashamed of the things I’ve written— not the actually things I’m writing about, but the fact I shamelessly cop to it all. To them, it was better when I was grinning and bearing and keeping my mouth shut.

Again, I think they actually meant well— which is what scares me more than anything else.

We’re taught to be wary of the bogeyman or the predator with the rapey van, but sometimes the people who think they’re helping are the ones primed to inflict the most pain.

I’m not sure what to take away from all of this, other than TRUST NO ONE EVER. But that still misses the mark. I think the real task, the great mission, the one last step in this fake quest for self-actualization is not to stop trusting people, but to trust myself. I’ve done some stupid shit in the past, but I’m the only one who really has to live with it.

This is why you can’t trust anyone on (or off) the internet

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Have you ever been catfished? How do you know who you can trust?

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I Never Have Good Answers To These Types of Questions

43 Comments by Aussa Lorens

Alex and I went to Ecuador last week, which is just as random as it sounds. Everyone kept asking “Why Ecuador?” and I didn’t really have a good answer other than “we’ve never been there before,” which might actually be the best sort of reason: I’ve never done this before, I think I’ll do it.

Unless you’re talking about crystal meth. Or child abduction. Or a lot of things, maybe. But let’s stick to traveling.

Here’s a few other things I’d never done before this trip:

Had a stranger vomit on me at 45,000 feet.

This is a slight exaggeration. He actually only vomited all over the seat and floor behind me, but thanks to science and other magical forces his vomit managed to slide forward beneath the seat—where it was discovered only after I dropped my phone in it. Too bad my backpack was laying down there the entire time. (on second thought, maybe this was karma.)

Worried so much about a taxi driver abducting me

Apparently this is Ecuador’s thing— so much so they now have cameras and little GPS-enabled panic buttons in all the taxis. Except the ones WE took, of course. We always picked the best taxis:

1. The guy who stopped on a highway on-ramp at 4:45AM, jumped out, and popped the trunk. I used some profanity to inquire as to the situation but it was only a moment before the driver was back, wielding a torque wrench. NBD he just had to make sure the wheels didn’t fall off or anything.

2. The super-suave driver who exhibited a bit of a temper when a land-slide took out the road we were trying to drive on.

3. The driver who basically said “sorry” and left us to walk down a CREEPY ASS cornfield mafia village at 11PM because the town shut its streets down for some sort of festival (fireworks sound a lot like gunshots when you’re the only people in sight). [Read more…]

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Let’s Thrive in the Blind Spot

122 Comments by Aussa Lorens

I moved to Colorado last week. I’ve been very zen about it, very meta. It kind of feels like nothing has changed, even though everything is different. Except me, I’m not different at all. I can always be counted on to make a mess out of a seemingly simple situation.

I life-hacked the shite out of our packing and moving process. I triple-planned down to the most minute detail. Alex and I were on-task, on-schedule, and ready to say goodbye to the first home we’d shared together.

“This is the last time we will ever shut this door,” he said.

It was in that moment of nostalgia and sentimentality that I realized I couldn’t find my phone. No big deal, it was just sitting inside the windowsill a few feet from the three sets of keys we’d locked inside for the landlord. [Read more…]

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I Blessed The Rains Down In Africa

116 Comments by Aussa Lorens

Guys, I’m back. It took a little longer than expected for me to recover from jet lag—in the meantime, I put up some sort of offensive sign in my front yard and started an entire propaganda campaign at work. Apparently time zone changes + lack of sleep = street Aussa.

Anyways. Africa. AFRICA!

Alex and I went there for about ten days. To coincide with the end of my restraining order against my ex but also because CARPE YOLO and we’ve been married an entire four months so it was time for a second honeymoon. [Read more…]

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10 Terrible Things I’ve Done on an Airplane

114 Comments by Aussa Lorens

Alex and I recently flew to Costa Rica for our honeymoon, which made me nostalgic for all the terrible things I’ve done on airplanes. Unfortunately, poor Alex has vertigo which means he doesn’t want to participate in shenanigans or get schwasted on miniature bottles of Cab Sav. This is truly unfortunate, given the fact I’ve done all of the following at least once: [Read more…]

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My Site is Restricted. How Sexy.

109 Comments by Aussa Lorens

I tried to pull my blog up at a Verizon store but it refused– saying my site was not allowed based on “restrictions”. Restrictions? What does that mean. Restrictions on greatness? No, likely not. It’s probably because I talk about naked selfies, Bedroom Talk, that guy who wanted to rip my pantyhose, and things that don’t belong in my vagina.

With nothing better to do with my time, I decided to be mildly outraged. [Read more…]

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I Don’t Think This Belongs In My Vagina

284 Comments by Aussa Lorens

I love it when someone gives me permission to blog about them. Especially when I don’t have to ask. Just last week I got a text from my coworker Mandi.

“Come to my office NOW. I have something for you to blog about.”

Half an hour before this she’d been on an epic tampon-hunt that took both of us to the bottoms of our purses and the backs of our glove boxes. The lack of tampon is a huge problem where I work, because only three of us are still menstruating. [Read more…]

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