As I prepare for my departure to Sri Lanka next week I am acutely more aware of the differences in the way I travel as compared to my peers than I have been in the past. Most of my American friends have reactions to my intentions to travel indefinitely alone such as "You're so brave!" or "I could never do that because [insert excuse about money, fear, family etc here]" or my personal favorites revolve around "You're gonna end up in a sex trafficking ring!" What I find most comical about these reactions is not their mere existence but my own ability to buy into them at times.

The first time I left home for a long period alone, I purchased a one way ticket to Vietnam at flew out a mere few days after my nineteenth birthday. Not a fear in the world (at least of course that I recall). I was ready, had no real plan but a lonely planet, a two night hostel reservation and an insatiable desire to prove myself to well, myself and the boy I thought I love (I mean when isn't it about a boy?). Pre-iPhone, Pre-Wifi, Pre-ease of access to gmail. Heaven forbid a blog! Livejournal was all the rage; I was over it. I emailed through my university server on dial up internet and phoned home once a month to remind my anxious mother I still had a voice.

Don't get me wrong, I realize my travels even in their infancy are nothing compared to my parents generation traveling long before we could fathom the internet. Or even that of my elder siblings friends who make today's generation of backpackers look like a bunch of yuppie wimps. But I have been fascinated by the evolution of my travel.

Once equipped with an original generation iPod I now wonder what I will do without Pandora on long bus rides!? Heaven forbid I live without an internet radio that is smarter than I. My iPad is set (Apple really sure sponsor me for how much I'm plugging them), the iPhone loaded, my e-guidebook purchased, and my high end rucksack nearly organized and yet despite all the travel I've done in my short life thus far (from 0 to 34 countries in the past 7 years) I find myself facing an emotion I've rarely felt before....

FEAR

Age, life and experience hasn't made me stronger, wiser or more prepared. It's made me more afraid. The what if's are overwhelming. What if I'm lonely? What if I have problems? What if I run out of money? What if I'm attacked? What if I don't "make traveler" friends? [insert goofy smile here] The voices of my peers who can't fathom my desire to see the world, much less the way I chose to see it, echo in the back of my mind. A not-so-subtle reminder that the world is a big, bad, dangerous place.

In the end, I know it will all turn out alright. Over the past two years of living and working in the same DC suburb, I have amazed myself in my ability to "get along" (not always an easy task for an outspoken, type A, at times admitted bitch to do). If I can go the places I've been in the past seven years, build relationships with all you lovely people and come out unscathed I'm sure this next sojourn is just another chapter in the convoluted story of my life. There will be cuts, bruises, lost bags and missed opportunities. But if there aren't, then it wouldn't be a good story I suppose.