So I reflect

 Two years since I've written anything, I had hoped to blog while on my trip, but got more wrapped up in just enjoying my time and neglected writing. I also get lazy, and that is the real excuse. 

It's wild what has happened in these two years. 

I traveled to some brilliant new places, had to rush back to the states due to a pandemic quickly spreading the surface of the globe. The pandemic that we all hoped would last little more than a few months. Two years later we are learning about the third variant of this virus. We are seeing people willing to risk their careers and the possible health of others over the vaccine. So many are convinced it is a conspiracy, or a means to somehow control us. If it is a hoax, at least I can say that I did it for the common good of those around me. It has also managed to then, via the placebo effect, make fighting the virus much easier and quicker for my friends and family who have contracted covid. I am now currently nursing what I can only assume is COVID. 

In these last two years my sister successfully had her brain surgery to repair her aneurysm. My dad met and married a real cool lady. I joined the navy during a pandemic, and am stationed in Norfolk, VA.

I'm trying to take this time while recovering at home to reflect. It can be hard for me to be proud of myself sometimes. Because I live with myself every day, I see the productive times, and the lazy times. I am front and center through any changes and progress. I forget to take time to reflect and be thankful. I forget to take time to feel pride in myself and the woman I am, and the woman I am constantly becoming. 

I can be so hard on myself. I grew up in a family that expected excellence. It was expected that anything that is done should be done well. That we are privileged and blessed to have our basic needs met, and on top of that, to be intelligent. That amount of pressure and drive for excellence makes it hard to recognize your achievements for what they are. 

So I reflect........

So I remember......

So I thank past me......

2018- 2019 were years of almost nonstop trauma. So much heart break. So much loss. SO much change. So much stress. Yet, we prevailed. Yet, I grew. Yet, the sun kept rising. Yet, I kept moving. 

I didn't take up new vices. I didn't hurt people in a hot-headed attempt to placate my heart break. I didn't let myself break. I kept moving. Everyday, I kept moving. 

I find myself searching for my next goal. I attempt to daydream about what I need to do next. DO I go back to school now? Will I re-enlist after this contract? Do I try to get a degree now and commission? Do I avoid the uncomfortable and try to transfer to a more chill shop at my command? 

Instead, let me look back on the last year and be thankful.  My dear girl, in 2021 you graduated A school. You were in the top 5 of your class, while learning about something 100% foreign to you. Those ahead of you had degrees in electrical engineering, had prior experience, math degrees, or were just incredibly bright. You got to your command and have learned so much. You went from knowing nothing about helicopters, only knowing that they are different than fixed wing aircraft somehow, to knowing so much about your platform. You know so many stats about the aircraft, as well as how to do daily inspections, servicing, and other misc tasks that are used to support this aircraft. You have built rapor with so many coworkers in many different shops. You make excellent scores on your PRT, even at 30 you've got it going on. 

You stay active and in the gym. 

You eat clean.

 You dress well.

You continue to read.

 You maintain adult friendships with other military and civilians.

 Most importantly, you looks to other, strong people, especially women for inspiration. You seldom compare yourself, but rather look at any traits you admire as a skill to learn, and reach out to those people for advice. 

If 19 year old Hanna could see you now, she would be a bit surprised, but would be so impressed. 

I want to apologize for neglecting to write, but I wont!
We have been enjoying ourselves, yet staying very active.
We purchased tickets for the Big Bus tour. 10/10 would recommend this tour. We purchased delux tickets, which were reasonably priced, and offer so much.
The tour is broken into 3 lines, each line covering a different part of Dubai. One line covering the Marina, one covering the downtown and newer parts of Dubai, and the last line taking you to old Dubai.

We spent a day riding all of the lines in succession. We made minimal stops, thought the line allows you to hop on and off at will. We were anxious to take in as much information as possible so we stayed on the bus.
We did choose to hop off the bus in Old Dubai at the Dubai museum.
It was a very clever Museum with so much information. None of us were expecting it to be as expensive as it was. THe museum is mostly underground and is air conditioned for those hot summer months.
I am excited to see more of this area. This is the area where you will find the old Dubai Souk, as well as the spice souk, and gold souk. It is a solid area for taking in the traditional culture.
Near the end of our day, we realized that we would not want to ride the circuits of the bus tour back to our starting off point, so we jumped off the bus at Deira City Center, and took the metro to our destination.
I am a huge fan of the Dubai Metro system. It follows along Sheik Zayed, which is the main artery of the UAE. The metro system and trains themselves are clean, easy to navigate, and very affordable. THe spacing of the stations do require you to do some walking, depending on your final destination, but I find with the weather as lovely and relatively cool as it is now, I have no issues with any walking.
When we finally made it back to our flat, we Were pretty beat.

We have decided to be kind to ourselves. We typically start our morning slowly, which coffee and tea, and lounging around the flat. When we finally leave, we casually walk to a cafe and have a drawn out breakfast/brunch. Today we visited Shakespeare and Company located in the Marina Mall. What a lovely times. We sat outside and feasted on our giant breakfast and just enjoyed being outdoors and with family.
We made plans to then go to the Aquarium in the Atlantis Resort, located that the top of the Palm Jumeriah. (The entry was free with the Delux Big Bus ticket)
THe Atlantis is lovely, and larger than life. We enjoyed the aquarium, and browsed shops within. The shops had some items that were a bit more unique than many of the things that we have seen all over.


My friend MOMO finally arrived back in Dubai after being in Abu Dhabi since we arrived. MOMO is a friend I made in Savannah. He would frequent Foxy, where I worked. He is an emirati, meaning he is one of the natural citizens of the UAE. Meeting the natives is actually quite rare as the population is actually quite small with much of the Dubai population consisting of expatriates.

We met up with MOMO after leaving The Atlantis. We stopped by LULU’s hypermarket, then picked up his girlfriend Alice and went for food.  THey took us to one of Dubai’s oldest Restaurants. THis establishment was opened in 1978. It has been busy ever since. The owner originally came to Dubai from Iran as a child. He was an orphan and came here and worked until he could open this place. He passed away a few years back, and his sons took over the restaurant. The food was incredible. This may have been one of the few meals I did not photograph. THe place was really extraordinary. SO crowded. So wonderful.

We ate, then went out for drinks and Shisha.
We sat at a rooftop bar and enjoyed each other. Before we knew it, it was after 1am and we were closing down the place.

One interesting thing for me is the difference in going out in Dubai with an Emirati versus not. The added level of courtesy given to an Emirati is remarkable. For me, MOMO is just my friend. I think little of it. He is a person I would brunch with and speak loudly in the cafes, and would chat with across the counter at work. Here, he is treated with a higher level of service. Truly remarkable. What a treat to have this friend here. THis friend whom I met in Savannah, after having lived in Dubai some 6 years earlier. Yet here we are, in his home, enjoying ourselves.

Let’s see what adventures tomorrow may bring.

Imma have to add photos at a later time.

1.26 and 1.27

We’ve been out here taking in the sights! 

Yesterday I woke up early and walked the marina walk. 

Once all were awake, we took on IBN Battuta mall. This mall has grown significantly in the last 7 years. It still remains one of my all time favorite malls. It is absolutely breathtaking. One thing we all remark on, is how lovely places are harder to find in the US. It’s as though allowing ourselves to live in lovely spaces isn’t a thing we seek out any longer. I was spoiled in Savannah and was used to well decorated and designed Public spaces, but that does not speak to so much of the rest of the US. 

By the time we walked the mall, and made our journey on the metra back to the Marina, we were pretty tired. We then had to walk about 15-20 minutes to the flat. We were all exhausted to say the least. 

Today was a Karama day. Karama is your local shopping area to buy souvenirs and knock off designer items. I’ve done Karama enough to know better with many of the products and prices. Though I always give into temptation and barter for something. My family loves to go to this one particular shop. They sell all sorts of women’s clothing. We always go and buy an insane amount of harem pants. Today we walked Out with probably 15 pairs of these pants. I bought a dress. I feel like we paid that shopkeepers rent for the month. 

We napped, before heading out to stroll JBR walk. More street vendors. Countless restaurants. Attractions and sights. Dubai is just so extra in every sense of the word. It is an incredible thing to watch as it grows over the years. 

1.26.2020

So the last 24 hour or so have been weird. It’s been dark outside the whole time. I got off of my first flight at JFK and it was dark. I waited about 4 hours, then took my 12 hour flight. I arrived in Dubai at about 9pm. At that point my body thought it had been night for about 16 hours already.  It is now 545am and the sun is coming up.

  I hardly recognize this place. So many more buildings. So much more life!
I arrived to my Air BNB by car. My friend Momo sent a driver to fetch me at the airport.
I dropped my bags in the BNB. Changed my shirt and reapplied deodorant and Scurried out the door to the currency exchange.
THe weather was perfect. 70 some degrees...no humidity....just the fragrant smell that my nose immediately recalled floating through the air.
 I made it to the currency exchange 10 minutes before they closed. After, I decided to walk The Marina a bit.
When I was last here, The Marina was relatively Bare. I was delighted by my experience.
When I was last at the Marina, some 7 years ago, they were still doing so much work on it. The walk itself was lovely but had very few things to see.
It is now a booming area peppered with restaurants,  shisha bars, kiosks, and bike rentals.
The retail kiosks sell anything from jewelry, robes, traditional dress, skin care, and souvenirs.
After a good walk, I made my way to the Carrefour grocery that is right by the Air BNB.
Here is the thing about vacationing in an area where you have previously lived. You save money on eating out, because you already know what exciting things await you at the store.
I bought bread, I bought cheese, I bought  yogurt to drink, Moroccan mint tea, I bought Labneh, and my favorite juice!!
My body is so happy. Bread and Cheese for dinner, and bread with Labneh for breakfast. What a rough life.

I’m waiting for my Dad and Grandma to wake up so we can start out our day. We are thinking Ibn Battuta mall today, and securing NOL cards for the Metra.

Things I am happy to see upon returning to Dubai:
I was given a free SIM card for my cell phone upon arrival. Though I’m not sure how much this helps US visitors as our phones no longer take SIM cards. YET, It is really thoughtful.
I am excited to see continued growth. I am excited to still receive a Visa upon arrival.
Overall, It is good to be back.

Counting down!

We are less than 2 weeks out. Are y’all ready??
Uhhhh same, I think.

I’m excited yet nervous. Ive never navigated an adventure this big on my own.
Yet, here we are.
It’s bitter sweet. Im sure going to miss my sister, and my little nephews!
I like my jobs here in Wisconsin as well, so leaving them stinks.

My greatest challenge at the moment is packing for both hot weather, and cold eauropean weather, all in a carry on back pack. Wish me luck!
My current plan for the trip is as follows.

-Drive to Savannah.
-Fly out of Atlanta with my Dad and Grandma.
-Arrive in Dubai. See my friend Momo and enjoy the old Dubai stomping grounds.
-Depart Dubai for Sri Lanka.
-Meet my cousin, Christy in Sri Lanka.
-Spend 15 glorious and wild days on the island of Sri Lanka. We plan to eat, drink tea, eat more, drink more tea, go on a safari to see some elephants and maybe some leopards, and hike some incredible paths.
-Leave Sri Lanka and go back to Dubai. (Late February)
-Hang out with my friend Momo and his GF while I recover and plan my next step.
-Fly to Munich Germany.
-Connect with my Girl Kelsey in Munich.
-Hit up some museums, take in architecture. Eat some food. Drink some beer. Try to speak some elementary German.
-Take a Train or plane to Amsterdam.
-Meet up with my friend Thomas. Maybe try and see my old high school friend Dominica.
-Enjoy Amsterdam. Eat some Apple Tart, Boche Bolen, Stroop Waffles, and poferches. As per the recommendations of a Netherlands native I met at Foxy.
-From Amsterdam, funds and time dictating, Fly to Scotland.
- Visit Edinburgh,  and Aberdeen.
-Fly home and sleep, and blog, and hug my dog.
-Back to WI to be with my sister while she has a procedure.
-Hug my nephews.

Ill try and blog as much as possible. Y’all know that I keep a good journal and blog after trips. So get ready!!

In 43 days I’m out of here!

Flights are booked.
Last year I spent much of the year asking my friends and family “Can I run away yet?”
THey kept telling me “No”.
The nerve of some people.
But even as I make statements like that, the honest truth is that I am an incredibly careful person.
I typically take months and months to think things over. Anyone that has ever shopped with me can attest to it.

Early 2019 I started to feel the restlessness in my spirit kick into high drive. When this happens, just know that Hanna is about to get some stuff done.
When my mom passed in February, it sent me spiraling.
I remember being at the beach in 2018, and I went into the ocean to cool off. I got hit by one wave that swept me under, and then I found my grounding and thought I was good. Just then another wave came and knocked me back under the water. This happened about 4 times before I finally determined to get up and out of the water.
This is what much of my year has felt like. One wave after another knocking me down, until I determined to pick myself up and out of it.
I told myself, “Hanna, It’s time now. Make your plan. Figure out how you need to adjust your lifestyle to meet your goal, and GO GET IT!”
I thought, “My mom was a few days short of her 53rd birthday and she still had so many unrealized dreams. She was still working through so many old traumas and dramas. I WILL NOT BE IN THAT PLACE IN MY 50s. I’m going to smell all the smells, taste all the foods, see all the scenery, listen to all the languages!”
I had a side hustle for 8 months. I lived minimally. I determined to work toward my goal, and not talk about it.

Last week, I bought my flights!
A one way ticket to Dubai, then on to Sri Lanka.
My Sri Lanka visa was approved. My bag is about packed.
I just received the last few things I ordered for the road.
I have a few other stops planned along the way, but I’m not going to broadcast those.
Ill try and keep people updated via this blog, So you need not worry.

Peace babies!

I’ve been trying to decide for a while, as to how I will get back on here.
I’m going to dive in, I guess.

My current life motto is, “There’s just a lot going on.”
This is the reality.
It is often difficult for me to talk about some parts of my life. I like to be open and transparent, but with something I am protective and thus guarded.
Luckily I don’t think that many people will be reading this, so I minus well put it out there.

For those that are burning with curiosity, Andres and I separated in August of 2018.
This has all been incredibly painful and not fun to talk about. This was all happening as I was working ungodly hours as the GM of a incredibly fast paced cafe.
I was putting in more than 12 hour days, 7 days a week,  all while watching my marriage continue to unravel.
There was no major event that lead to this.  All I will say is, Fathers out there, if you are teaching your daughters to be strong and know their worth, get ready for them to expect a lot out of people and take no sh*t.
Andres and I are still legally married. We are civil. We talk. We hang out sometimes. We Don’t hate each other.
Andres is currently set to ship out to Boot Camp in the middle of the month as he wishes to pursue his dream of joining the US Navy.

I am currently living with my sister in Janesville,WI.
When my mom passed in Feb, we found out that there is a genetic factor to Aneurysms.
My mom was the 5th person in the family that my maternal grandmother could recall off hand that passed from an aneurysm in their 50s.
My family was all tested and we found out that my sister does have aneurysms as well. Lucky for us, she found them now. She is young, healthy, and tough as nails.
She just gave birth to baby boy #3.
I’m now here to offer my best attempt at emotional, sister support to my sister as we start on this path toward treatment.

I am going to be working part time at a gymnastics gym here in Janesville, as well as at Victoria’s Secret. EVERYONE GETS UNDERWEAR FOR CHRISTMAS THIS YEAR!

So here is my starting off point.
Love you all.
Forgive me if I air out other rants on here. It’s been an emotional year and a half.

I miss my mom.

I think about her constantly.

It’s in all these little moments where I think “I need to text mom and tell her that.......oh wait, I cant”.

I know this is nothing new. Grieving is something that every human will do at least once in their life, but it doesn’t make it easier. 

My mom was one of the few people in my life that would let me talk. She would just sit, and let me say what I needed to say. 

It’s hard to find that. When the rest of the world seemed shocked by me or things I’m doing, my mom never was. This is because my mom knew me. She listened. She understood my heart. 

Whenever something good happens, I want to tell her, but I cant. 

I’m planning my dream trip, and she wont be there to talk with my about it after. 

My family is going through a lot, and she isn’t there to sit on the couch with me and hug me.

To whom will I ask all my questions?

Who is going to make all the knit Christmas gifts, and sew PJs for people?

My mom felt like a light house to me. 

I would go do my things, but I always knew she was there, and she was safety. 

She would guide me in to harbor when life got crazy. 

I remember when I was maybe 6 years old, and I was going to a track clinic, because I wanted to try it out. 

On my second day, I was riding my bike there while she walked. 

She took a shortcut between some buildings, and I didn’t realize. 

I remember the absolute panic that came over me when I no longer saw her. 

I was so upset that she went somewhere that I couldn’t see. 

This panic wears a different face as an adult, But it isn’t any less scary. 

It’s all going to be fine....It has to be. 

Not a single one of these sentiments is new over the last 8 months. It’s just the loops of feelings that keep coming back....over...and over...and over...and over again. 

Loops on loops-on loops-on loops.

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.

That moment when life slows down enough for you to feel the weight of what is happening. 

 This last year has been an intense journey. For those of you that have walked with me through it all, you know this. For those that did not, It was truly crazy.

 I accomplished more in one year than most do in 5 years. Going through and accelerated school program full time while working two jobs and figuring out immigration paper work. My memories of last summer are a blur of folding shirts for 6-8 hours a day before rushing to the YMCA to coach gymnastics to a small group of teens dealing with mental blocks. 

 The main thing that I remember of this last year is being cold. I wore cardigans all summer, I wore sweatshirts in the house. I woke up freezing. A winter coat, hat, scarf and mitten were not enough to keep the cold out all fall and winter. I schooled all year round. We had 11 weeks of class followed with a two week break, then 11 more weeks of class. My weeks off were always packed. One break was dedicated to the wedding of my sister and brother in law. Another break was dedicated to my wedding preparations. The next break found me preparing immigration paper work. Only to be followed by a break spent recovering for an emergency removal of my infected wisdom teeth. 

 My weekends for the last 3 or 4 months have been committed to coaching competitions for the groups of weirdo gymnasts that I love so much and would do anything for. Each weekend was the same story, work as a barista on Friday night, Wake up at an ungodly hour on saturday morning, Drive 2-3 hours to a YMCA, watch my girls do the routines they have practiced hundreds of times, watched then accept medals and trophies, drove 2-3 hours home to my sweet husband.

 Today I slept in. I woke up to take Andres to work. I came home and sat on the couch with a cup of coffee and muffin. This is the first Monday in a while where I have nothing to do until I go to coach. All of my assignment are turned in. My personal paperwork is sorted. I need only to do a load of laundry. This is where I sit and feel life sink in. This is where I sit and allow the reality of the last year hit me. I feel the reality of the next step that Andres and I will be taking. I feel it all. 

 A few weeks ago Andres and I made the decision to move to Georgia. Andres was offered a great job opportunity through the company my dad works for. Andres is very excited! I'm excited to be closer to my parents. I am excited to go get coffee with my momma. She will describe the coffee drink that she wants and ask me what it is called at that particular coffee shop. She will order a triple chocolate brownie and offer to share it, though we both know that I will only want one little bite. I'm excited to sit with my dad and just chat about everything. TO make obscure references and have him laugh and add on to the reference. I'm excited to watch Lord of the Rings, or Pride and Prejudice with my parents.

 But there are two sides to every coin. Last weekend my gymnasts had their state meet. The last meet of the season. I cried on my drive home. I knew that I will never again coach these girls are a competition. MY gymnasts still do not know I am moving later this summer. My manager at the coffee shop still does not know I am moving. I told my classmates. This made our last day of class bitter sweet. We can look forward to our graduation ceremony in June.

 I've been a wild rover my whole life. I always felt the urge to move on after a short amount of time. My heart was searching for home. My soul was searching for it's mate. I was looking for home. I found home. I married my home. I no longer feel the need to wander. This next year will truly be an adventure.....again...... I am so excited for my esposo. He deserves to pursue his dreams, and I am so grateful for my parents and their help to both of us along the way.  

Andres got his work visa!!!!

Also, this song is amazing! I can't get enough of it!

This quarter in school I am enrolled in an English Composition class.
I always thought I was an "ok" writer. Being forced to write papers that are graded on my ability to follow a grading rubric and based on my grammar rather than content is very frustrating. So far, at this school, I have felt that classes were very informative, but none of them particularly hard or frustrating. Two weeks into this quarter and I am not sure what to do about this English class. How can it be so hard to write in a language that you grew up speaking and writing?

 Seeing as how I am required to write for this course, I have decided instead that I would rather procrastinate and write on this here blag that no person seems to read. I cannot blame anybody considering that I seldom post here anyways.
I am wondering if I should just start a new blog. I am in a new season of my life. I am kind of a grown up now.  I am nearing the end at this college. I am getting close to having a "grown up person" job.
I'm sure I will figure something out, and possibly start working on it while I should be writing papers. Oh the life of a student!

lo amo

Oh life....

I've really been wanting to get back into blogging lately. I can't seem to figure out where to start. With so much change happening over such a short amount of time, I am not sure how much to share or with how much detail. I also feel that I cannot blog the same way as I did in the past because it is no longer just my story. It is now the story of Andres and I and our new journey together.

Let me try to fill you in.

 Lets see....... where to begin.

     Andres finally received his visa. After months of paper work, stress, skype dating, waiting, and one ridiculously expensive ticket later Andres arrived.

     I arrived at the airport an hour early, after enduring a day that crawled by at the slowest possible rate. I had no way to find out if he made it through immigrations alright and if he even made it onto his connecting flight into WI.

I was wearing the famous purple dress from the day we started dating. I saw him come down the steps to baggage claim.

It felt weird to hug him again.  His scent was unfamiliar.

It all didn't feel real.

 It felt un-natural to hold his hand again.

 I had to un-lock the passenger side door to my car. This door had been locked almost consistently since I bought the car in January. I had to put my purse in the back seat rather than the passenger seat.

I had to give him a tour of the home I had lived in for months.

I had to cook dinner for more than one person.

I got to say good night to him in person rather than via text or skype.

The next few days were a transition. It took getting used to.

I had to coordinate schedules and get him moved in.

Life got very busy after.

I was finishing up my quarter at school.

I started coaching 3 different levels rather than just one.

I was spending my weekends all over the place.

One weekend was my bachelorette party, the next we went camping.

We spent weekends up north working on wedding planning.

We spent weekends with friends here.

We spent a weekend in Chicago with Josh and Amber celebrating weddings.

Finally it was our turn. We had our courthouse wedding.

It was at noon, on a Thursday. It lasted about 10 minutes. My grandparents, great-grandma, and mother were our witnesses. My sister celebrated with us after.

I went to work a few hours after.

Then was our ceremony. The day was colder than hoped for, yet the wedding was perfect.

So many beautiful faces. So many friends that I had missed. So many laughs, and so much dancing.

I just started another quarter at school. We are working on the next round of visa papers.

I am working 2 jobs. I just started working as a barista here in town. I love it!!!

Andres is helping build a room in the basement.

Life is crazy busy and I'm not really sure how to slow down. I'm not sure what areas of my life to cut back on. I'm not sure what to not do.

I feel that the weeks just fly by and I fight to fit as much in as possible. Hopefully soon I will find a balance and things will settle down.

insatiable

Aching for culture.

Aching for people that are different than me.

For new stories,
New jokes,
New world views.
Aching for new foods,
New spices,
New smells,
New textures.

Aching for new awkward experiences.
Being in the way,
Nervous laughter,
Awkward stares.
Aching for new coffee shops,
New books,

New music,
New languages.

No matter how busy I make myself, this tugging at my heart doesn't go away.

 Going over all the papers for Andres to take to his consulate appointment.

Prayer is well appreciated!
I will probably not sleep much tonight.

I know that it's not Thanksgiving yet, but I must say.

Feeling very grateful for my Grandparents these days.

(Maybe it is the homework I am avoiding that is prompting me to write these words, or maybe not. )
 Growing up  we always lived a distance from them and I was not able to see them often or develop a very close relationship with them. 

I have now been living with my Grandma in her Green bay house and have been able to develop a relationship with her. My grandpa has been around a lot as well and we have had a lot of opportunities to go have small adventures together and have some late night talks about pretty controversial issues.
I am just feeling so grateful for the life lesson they have been teaching me, all of the support they have given me, and especially for all of the ridiculous things they say that make me about fall over laughing.
I don't have words to truly describe how much it means to have this relationship with them at this point in my life.

I am thankful beyond words. 

I am not ashamed to say that I really love my family!

I love that I finally reached a point where I feel comfortable speaking in Spanish. I may not be perfect, but I am no longer afraid to make mistakes. No longer afraid to sound like a whitey! I love this freedom!