There Ain't No Devil, It's Just God When He's Drunk

This is it, the night before my mini-holiday. I got my little backpack packed and ready, the same one I used in college, and my travel companion has completely filled her 65kg backpacking pack. For a 4 day, 3 night mini holiday. She has also informed me that she has waxed her arms for this trip, I assume in the hopes of meeting Mr. Right...who obviously will be a rural Island man with a deep abhorrence for arm hair.

I've always considered myself a tomboy, and growing up, I don't think I was every very clean. I always wanted to hang out with the boys and do interesting things like see who could climb the highest tree, dig the deepest trench, and eat the most mud. As I got older, I got jealous of my 9 year old little brother's Boy Scout troupe, and figured that if I just bought the Eagle Scout manual, I would know everything Eagle Scouts knew before any of those little twerps even made it to middle school. And if I have to brag, I know how to make a damn good fire, rain or shine, even if it means my face soon resembles a miner from 1958. Hell, I even backpacked 60 miles last summer and camped in a scary ass forest next to the trail, filled with bugs of death and growling, grunting, wild boars. And it was all in the rain, I might add! But enough of this, the point is that I am going with little miss Barbie- someone who has never eaten out of a can, can't leave her hair straighteners behind, and thinks walking more than two blocks is an effort.

So off I go! Wake up call at 5:50, train departure at 7:15, arrival on the island at 3, and up to our hostel by 4. It's gonna be a loooooooong day.

xx