Guilty pleasure

We all have them. Those guilty pleasures. Those things that may not be bad, but most normal people don't want to admit to them.
From time to time I really enjoy looking for beach property in Ecuador.

One of my dreams is to have a motel on a beach in Ecuador.
I have it all figured out. How I will market it.
How it will impact the community.
In my dream I wake up early and go walk the beach, or body board, or surf everyday.
In my dream I have a golden tan.
In my dream the motel has many hammocks just beckoning you to relax and look out at the beauty that Ecuador offers.
In this dream we eat fresh food every day.
Fresh bread in the morning. Fresh veggies, fruits and sea food.
It is the dream. 
This is my guilty pleasure website.
I love to look at the available property and plan out my way of saving the needed money to buy the ideal place.
This is something I am really passionate about.
Be careful or you may find yourself sold on the idea after the next time I see you.
I am slowly working on investors.
How does this sound?
You put just a bit of money into the purchase of the property. In return, you have a South American destination spot always waiting for you. A room all to yourself. You will have locals just waiting to go exploring with you and show you all of the best stuff. You will eat traditional foods cooked by Ecuadorians. You will have a medical personnel there should you feel unwell, and you will e staying at a hotel on the beach for free!!
I think it is ideal.
Just think about it.

Stop glorifying wandering.

Stop glorifying wandering.

Wanderlust.

Vagabond.

Gypsy.

Bohemian. 

These terms are so popular now. 

This is a lifestyle that is being glorified. 

This is a profile that so many young women are trying to fit within. 

While I understand the draw,

The flowy skirts,

the crop tops,

the long, natural hair,

the free appearance, 

This lifestyle is not what it is made out to be.
Stop calling your self a wanderer
just because you like to go on vacations
every-once-and-a-while.
Having a desire to see some new countries
 and places does not make you a wanderer.
Being a wanderer means that when people wish you happy birthday via social media, they don't actually know what city you are in at  the moment.

Being a wanderer means not knowing how to answer the question "Where are you from?"

This is a personal struggle I have had for years.

Anytime I meet a person that was born and raised in the same house it blows my mind. 

It is almost too much for my mind to comprehend. 

I was born in Idaho. 

I lived in a number of different houses in Idaho.

I don't remember much of Idaho aside from a few small snip-its.

I remember the time that my Aunt Lori was visiting us. 

I was maybe 4 years old. 

My Aunt made a comment about taking me home to Wisconsin with her. 

I immediately walked to my room and started packing a small bag.

I was so upset when I was told that I couldn't go.

We moved from Idaho when I was 5.

We moved to Northern Wisconsin where we lived for a few months.

We lived with my maternal grandparents while my Dad got housing settled for us.

I remember catching turtles and keeping them in 5-gallon buckets out in the driveway.

I remember spending hours outside with these turtles.

I remember running in the tall grass out in the pastures. 

I remember getting a plastic wheel barrow and some toy gardening stuff while living there.

I also remember when my uncle came into the house, sat me down, and broke the sad news to me.

He had hit my wheel barrow with his truck and it was broken. 

We moved to Milwaukee less than a year after being up north.

We lived in a complex. I shared a room with my sister. 

I remember playing with all of the other kids in the complex.

I remember the day that they blocked off the parking area and let us kids ride our bikes in the parking lot. That was the day that I got rid of my training wheels. 

I remember moving again after less than 12 months in Milwaukee. 

We moved to East Troy. 

This was the first time in my life that I had my own room. 

We had a nice yard with a swing set. 

We made a few friends in the neighborhood, and I made a bunch of friends at school.

I loved learning. I loved competing to be at the top of my class.

After a year in East Troy, we moved again. 

I was lucky because my best friend moved into our East Troy house after we left.

We moved outside of Delavan, WI.

We moved to a lake area and were surrounded mostly by cabins.

We were friends with the 5 or 6 kids that lived in the neighborhood. 

I had one friend in the area.

I spent most of my days running around the small sections of woods in the area.

I would pretend to be a warrior princess in some mythical land. 

Some days I collected sticks and spend hours sanding them down to make bow and arrows.

Other days I spent in my room drawing for hours on end. 

We stayed there for 8 years. 

I remember the time when I was maybe 11.

A friend of mine was moving to Connecticut. 

She told me that she wanted me to come along. 

I packed a bag. It was the size of a carry on, and it was all I could imagine needing. 

I was devastated when my parents didn't let me leave. 

I started gymnastics while living in that house.

I started babysitting for families in the area. 

I saved almost every penny I made baby sitting. 

When I was 15 I bought myself an airline ticket to Texas to visit a friend. 

This was the start of my wandering. 

I learned how easy it is to work hard, save your money, buy an airline ticket, and leave.

Later that year, we moved to the Chicago area.

This time it was just my parents and I moving. 

For the first time in my life I was connected into a community.

This connection brought me a lot of friends and activities to do.

I played basketball and volleyball. Coached gymnastics. Started taking college classes.

Went to youth group. Counseled at day camp. 

This was also the time in my life when I first told my Dad that I wanted to leave the country. 

All of my friends were talking about boys that they wanted to date. 

All my friends were spending their weekends shopping and seeing movies. 

All my friends were talking about colleges they wanted to attend. 

I was working every hour that the gym would give me,saving everything, and planning my trip to Europe.

A few weeks after my 18th birthday I left for Ireland with one of my best friends and my Grandpa. 

We spent two and a half weeks walking around Allihes Ireland. 

We spent afternoons scouring rocks at the beach.

We walked around small towns, had adventures while riding the bus, and almost beat each other up over a card game. 

I also learned that I could fit in no matter what city I was in. Our first day in Dublin, while waiting for a bus, someone stopped me to ask for directions.
The following February I went to Puerto Rico for a missions trip.

While in Puerto Rico I worked with churches and locals. 

I ate the local food. 

I tried to learn the local language.

I made friends with my team. 

I then went home, and life went on around me as though nothing had happened. 

Though honestly, for those around me, nothing had changed.

I moved to Boise, Idaho that September.

I remember packing my room. 

My parents were offered an opportunity to live and work and Dubai and they decided to go. 

I moved to Boise.

I drove a scooter all year round. 

As long as it was above freezing I would drive that scooter.

I rented a room from a really cool lady.

I worked really hard.

I saved everything.

I used my tips as fun money.

I drew.

I learned to fold origami.

I went to EMT school.

I went through a developing world medicine course.

I worked during Holidays because I had no family there.

I took a trip to Portland for spring break with two friends that had become family.

We slept in dirty hotels.

We couch surfed at strangers houses.

We slept in the car.

We ate hummus, bagels, and trail mix for dinner.

It was a wanderer's adventure.

 I then went for a visit to Dubai to see my parents. 

I told them that I would never move to Dubai if I had it in my power, 

only to move there less than a year later.

I also told everyone around me that I never want to get married and have no interest in dating.

Jokes on me!

In Dubai I pet camels, rode on the metra, ate new foods, drank tea, bought Arabic bed spreads and scarfs, then went home to Idaho.

A month after Dubai, I went to Ecuador on a medical mission trip.

I went with two of my role models.

I worked on my Spanish. 

I fell in love with the people there.

I worked in dirty places.

I hugged and kissed dirty people.

I spoke in front of crowds.

I ate new, different food.

I took showers in cold water.

I met the love of my life.

After meeting my husband Andres, 

I still had to return home to the States. 

I meet him in June of 2011.

Since meeting him, I have lived in 3 different countries,

worked 4 different jobs.

I have gone though an intense medical assisting program.

Completed mind numbingly confusing immigration paper work.

Planned a wedding.

We have just moved to a new State.

Our one year anniversary is coming up later this month. 

When written this way, it seems like an adventure to wander. 

I could write books about travel tips like: 

how to travel light, 

packing priorities.

I can tell you all about how to organize in a way that allows you to pick up and move in a flash.
I can tell you where to save the most money while shopping for almost anything.

I can tell you how to blend-in in almost any city.

Let me tell you this.

The life of a wanderer is lonely.

We wander because we are lonely.

We wander because we are looking for home.

We wander because we don't know what else to do.

In our wandering we leave so many things behind. 

In my wandering I have left friends in Idaho, many different parts of Wisconsin, Illinois, Ecuador, and Dubai.

In my wandering I missed out on helping my sister and on of my best friends plan their weddings.

In my wandering I have missed out on meeting my niece Luciana.

In my wandering I have left behind so many gymnasts that I bonded with.

In my wandering I am not getting to watch my newest nephew grow.

In my wandering, I once again find myself in a new city with no friends, 

and no idea where to find a good gyro.

In my wandering I find myself filing out job applications, yet again.

In my wandering I find myself denying my husband of my full attention.

In my wandering I find myself with insomnia.

In my wandering I find myself crying out.

In my wandering I have lost.

In my wandering I find myself crying out to Jesus "I'm tired of wandering!"

Spiders, Snakes, and Savannah...

It's 11:30 pm. Andres is happily asleep just a few feet away from me, but sleep is not an option for me. I knew hours ago that it would not be an option. Sleep has been rough ever since the spider incident.

Oh..... you don't know about the spider incident? ohh....... well please take a seat. Let me tell you......

So it all started one afternoon. I was downstairs trying to settle into our temporary living space, which happens to be a basement. Andres was outside doing some yard. I was minding my own bee's wax when I look over and on the brick wall, just mere feet away from me was a HUGE, BLACK, SPIDER!!! Not just the kind of spider where you get the "eeby-jeebies", squish it, and get on with life. It was the kind of spider that you only ever see from the other side of glass at a pet store, or a zoo. I let out a scream so loud that Andres heard it from outside and came running to the nearest window. My nephew, Josiah, heard me from upstairs and called "I'm coming Aunt Hanna. Just let me grab a shoe!". TO which I replied " I think this is an Andres sized spider! Thank though sweetie!".
Once Andres got inside I told him that I wanted that spider dead, and I needed to see its corpse! (We all know how guys like to just let it go outside, or they let it fall behind some furniture and call it good.)

SO anyways, since then I do not sleep well. 

Then it got worse. Last night while Andres and I were out picking up a dresser, my family apparently found a copper head snake out in the yard. Yeah, you know, no big deal. I mean, it is just a POISONOUS COPPER HEAD SNAKE!!! Needless to say, I had nightmares about snakes last night. Dreams in which bricks started coming out of the walls allowing for snakes to enter.

Then when you thought the story could end, it doesn't.  Tonight, while I was calmly getting ready to shower, I saw a gross little centipede just strolling along the bathroom floor. It was one of those fat bodied ones that looks like a fat worm with a million legs! AHHHH NIGHTMARE!! I screamed and called for Andres, who all things considered, took way too long to come to my rescue.

There was one more giant spider encounter tonight, but honestly, I am sure you get the picture. Girl spots spider. Girl screams and jumps up onto the couch. Macho husband springs to action. Woman gets angry that Husband's choice weapon is her soft moccasins. Husband murders spider. Wife does not sleep, but instead writes blog.

This has been the hardest part about this move. I am living in the middle of some 70 acres or something like that. There are chickens, ducks, dogs, snakes, armadillos, and HUGE BUGS!!!! I am from the mid-west. We don't have bugs this big where I am from. We just don't.