Confidence

I've been told that one of the benefits of international travel is a renewed sense of confidence and accomplishment upon completion of the journey.

That may be true. I'll let you know. But I don't know if the confidence comes from, "I just traveled, I can accomplish anything!"

I have a feeling it's more, "Here, I'm not a complete moron! Wooo!"

Case in point: One of my last tasks before packing up a base camp is always shipping recently finished research and other goodies home. Because otherwise by now, it would be a lot to carry. My backpack, my bike, 12 chinese scrolls, 14 water bottles, a sombrero, and a viking. Sometimes something has to go.

So. Shipping a package. Simple, right?

Maybe. I always save this task for the end though. Because I dread it. Not because I need to negotiate price for shipping (and it's usually a lot), not because I need them to figure out "United States" in another language, and not because it gives me a heart attack to think they could lose six weeks of my work.

It's because I have to get a box.

Boxes are actually quite innovative in Europe. They fold, they bend, and if you manage to manipulate it just right, the box comes together all by itself. However the journey from the realm of "cardboard" to the realm of "box" is not straightforward, nor is it easy.

I must ask. What is so wrong with tape? Something that folds into a square, and then you run tape along the sides. It's beautiful! Simple! Something even a government major can get on the first try!

But no.

So.

I go find a corner (preferably dark), and then I have to sit hopelessly and hope that I can figure out how to put the box together. I then have to put my departing belongings inside, fold the box into something I hope looks like a box, go to the counter, have the guy fold it the right way, walk me through filling out the forms, and two hours later I can go drown myself in a bucket.

Travel is so hard. Places are so different, people have such different customs, and the vast majority of the time you walk around helpless and with absolutely no idea of what's going on. But... the post office... this is familliar. Stamps. Boxes. Please, God, let me have one realm in this gigantic world where I can get something right.

That's why not being able to put a box together can be a morally crushing experience.

So where does the sense of accomplishment come from? Maybe after being stupid for so long, and then actually getting something right.

Like today.

When I sat in the post office, but eventually figured out how to put the box together. By myself. With no help.

Hah!

Today's Score: Brit 1, World 0.

Take THAT world!