Like every other self-absorbed twenty-something who thinks
they’re doing something crazy, changing the world one metaphor at a time, or
wishes to share the boredom/obscurities of their day-to-day life, I started a
blog.
Starting a blog to college students is like what getting
pregnant is to some teenagers. There’s
the likely prospect of catching the attention of others, the less-likely
possibility of making it onto some reality TV show, and if luck crosses your path to stardom, getting interviewed by Robin Roberts on Good Morning America.
This blog was my earnest and failed attempt at
journaling. Kind of like the time I
tried to become a vegetarian to eat healthier, but (over) compensated for the
lack of calories by consuming ridiculous amounts of candy and peanut butter instead. To an extent, the blog did succeed in my eyes. But I did not have the patience or time to
write as frequently as I previously hoped.
If a picture already says a thousand words, I suppose there
is no slack to be made up for with writing.
I mean how can you really describe visual beauty when there’s people
like *intellectual poet’s name* who does it so much better with an interesting
and sophisticated use of the English language.
Other than “Wow!” or just, well… nothing, I rarely made intelligent
remarks during moments of observance while hiking. The most relevant comment I usually had (that
inevitably ended up being totally irrelevant) was, “Look at allll those
chickens!” (Refer to overrated video here)
Travel writing/blogging is harder than it seems. See now, I had an image of these trendy,
hipster-ish people who can just go off into the world of wanderlust, become
Instagram famous, and write about it…. then maybe make like $2 and get a free
meal at the restaurant they mentioned in their blog.
When I did the Milford Track, my friends and I came across a
man who we referenced as “The Ideal Tramper.”
His stylish apparel made him appear as if he just walked off the set of
an Indiana Jones movie. His backpack was
literally and in the true correct definition of the word, “literally” larger
than me. He had a sexy French girl
accompanying him on the trail, with whom he shared hiking delicacies (aka
salami) on fallen over tree trunks as we awkwardly walked by their romantic
tramping scene. Our last morning in the
hut, we encountered him in a lovely reindeer sweater that hinted just enough
holiday spirit to make you become somewhat tolerable of the
soon-to-be-encountered cold weather on the trail that day. And then in the eyes of four immature and remarkably
less-stylish trampers, he became known as the Ideal Tramper.
Its people like him I picture writing in their
vintage-looking journals with the parchment-style paper next to the wood
burning stove during nights in the huts.
And then these people become the infamous yet very Instagram famous
travel bloggers of the modern age.
Is that really how it works?
In my idealist, naiive mind where Cinderella’s fairy
grandmother is reassuring me that Dreams
do come true yes that’s how it works.
I’d like to say that despite my lack of resemblance to the
sheik, hip bloggers, I have some intelligent, original thoughts. Rather than attempting to illustrate my visual
experiences with a series of words I had to look up in the Thesaurus, I’ve
authored a quick story in replacement.
