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Category: Reflection (Page 2 of 3)

Baby’s First House Sit: Tenerife

Some thoughts and reflections from my very first house sitting gig.

As I’ve mentioned before, there are two specific things that are making this journey possible for me: my Registered Companion status on a major US airline, and various house sitting gigs through Housecarers.com. We all know that house sitting is a genius idea that I stole from travelers before me. I get to live somewhere for free and meet and hang out with new animals, it’s perfect.

Cat Lounging

Grey taking a wee nap

Before I came, a friend pointed out that she wasn’t sure she would like it; wasn’t sure she’d be able to feel at home or be cozy in someone else’s space. So far, that is not the case for me. I remembered just a few days ago that, in my experience, even when one temporarily rents out an apartment in a foreign city, it is usually already furnished. You don’t populate an apartment with your own stuff. This is more or less the same.

Also, besides the animals, you are in the place by yourself. It’s not like being a guest in someone’s home and always being concerned that you are in their way. Just keep everything clean and functional and keep animals alive and you are just fine.

There is one important distinction to note. Traveling alone by house sitting is not the same as traveling alone by hostel. At hostels, there are all sorts of people doing the same thing, out of their respective elements, looking to make friends. House sitting, you don’t get that immediate network. House sitting, there are all sorts of… cats who want you to clean up after them. They’re also usually pretty unwilling to go out and grab a beer or a bite.

Lots of Pets

It’s a veritable menagerie in here

Something that I didn’t necessarily consider before, but will consider in the future, is the number of animals in any given house sit. Going into this gig, I figured seven cats aren’t much different than one, and birds and fish are easy. Turns out, the fish actually required the most work. Some of them have a special diet, which needs to be prepared, AND their water needs to be changed every four days. Seven cats means seven opportunities for vomit. Seven cats means a lot of fur. Seven cats means you can’t wake up and immediately get to writing with fresh ideas, because overnight seven cats have been using the litter box and eating the food and they need both those things freshened before starting the day. Birds are pretty easy, though I feel badly for them regularly. Birds also poop, a lot, and they don’t really care where they fling it

It has been fun watching the cats slowly but surely come around to me. When I got here, they were all pretty spooked, some even hissing and running away. The first few days were dedicated to winning them over. Slowly, one by one, they stopped running (some of them stopped hissing), then, they started to be okay when I initiated pets. Finally, they would come to ME for cuddles. As of writing, there is only one cat who is still not into me, but he HAS voluntarily sniffed me a few times.

Cat snuggles

When they snug, they SNUG

Judgemental cat

Fufy is not into my shenanigans

 

 

 

 

 

 

All in all, my first house sitting gig was quite successful. My hosts were beyond friendly. They treated me as a part of the family as soon as I arrived. They took me all around and even bought me a most decadent birthday cake. The animals, while time consuming, have been wonderful. It’s fun seeing the different personalities of all the cats. The home is clean and safe, plus there is a pool! Not too shabby for my first experience.

Casualty count: 1 fish, 1 bowl, 1 lock… could be worse.

Broken Lock

I came VERY close to being locked in for my last 24 hours here

Tenerife Takeaways: Part 1

I’ve been house sitting in the Canary Islands for about two weeks. Here are some takeaways.  

Tenerife Sunset

Sunset on my first night on Tenerife

I planned on writing about a post a week while I was here, but lo and behold, I am already down to the end of my stay, so, instead I wrote four posts in a day. Efficient? Maybe. Procrastinatey? Definitely. The remaining three posts will surface in the days to come.

Originally, Oakland was supposed to be my first house sit; getting my feet wet in a city with which I’m familiar and friends just around the corner. For many reasons, that trip falling through was a blessing in disguise, but it lead to me starting this whole process here, on a foreign island in a foreign country in not my native tongue. I’ve already learned a few things.

Tenerife El Teide Volcano

Halfway up the volcano. There’s green up here!

Language Sidebar: My Spanish is decent. I’m very good at reading it, not terrible at listening to it, and less great at speaking it due to forgetting words. It definitely gets better as I practice, but upon arriving here, I experienced something I never experienced before. For the first two days of interacting solely in Spanish, I felt it getting better. It was exhausting, but I was improving. On the third day, however, something very strange happened.

This was the day where my host had to explain all the animal and house-related duties I would need to carry out over the next two weeks. After hours of absorbing information in my second language, something broke. More specifically, my Spanish skills broke and I was sent hurtling backward. All of a sudden, I was unable to recall so many words and grammar rules that I already knew. I had tried to store too much in my brain at once and it snapped. This lead to me feeling embarrassed when I had lunch with my new friends the next day and my Spanish was not up to par. So strange.

Also, let’s all remember this when talking to people who are struggling to get a handle on our language. It’s taxing. Experience empathy!

For the first week or so, when I talked to people back home, everyone was asking questions such as:

“What awesome things have you been doing?!”

“Is it totally amazing!?”

When I wasn’t able to answer with the grand adventures I was having or the amazing things I was seeing, I started to feel guilty. Am I not doing enough? Seeing enough? Everyone was expecting me to soak up everything, to be immediately meeting all the new people and experiencing all the things. I let myself feel guilty for a while until I realized, that’s not the entire point, is it? The point of this journey is not to be a hard-partying, super active tourist in every location I go to. If I treated every destination the way I would a week-long vacation, I’d be exhausted, I’d get nothing done, and frankly, I’d be out of money pretty quickly.

Tenerife Patio Sunset

Sunset from the patio.

Yes, I could have gone whale watching or scuba diving and I could have taken a ferry to another island or even spent every day at the beach. I could have really hit the nightlife scene hard. But, for what? The point of this, at its core, is to give me a free place to stay so that I can get writing done; hopefully to create something worthwhile, but also to make my portfolio more robust so I become a competitive candidate for work that I really want to do. It is a (most excellent) bonus that I get to travel the world and do this in places that I’ve never seen before and experience cultures on a very local level.

So, I stopped feeling guilty. I’m sorry, y’all. I didn’t do all the tourist stuff. I didn’t go out and meet the random British partiers, or tons of locals. What I did do, was make a few awesome new friendships thanks to a connection facilitated by an old friend. I experienced generosity, was able to see a large part of the island due to this generosity (though it was still just the tip). Otherwise, I lived a pretty normal, kinda boring life… a lot of which involved caring for seven cats, seven birds, and two tanks full of fish.

Tenerife Cats

Four out of seven cats

Over the next few days, I will go over my island experiences in a bit more detail. This was my starter gig, and it helped me to navigate things such as jet lag, time management, animal care, and striking a balance between tourist and temporary resident. As for now, I will leave you with a snapshot of things I miss from home and things I love about being here.

Things I miss most (besides humans because that goes without saying and y’all don’t need to hear that shit):

  • Toaster ovens. Man, I really rely on a toaster oven. Making toast, making melts, reheating leftovers. A toaster oven can’t be beat. Sure, the “grill” setting on Spanish microwaves is cool, but it doesn’t really compare.
  • Swiffer. How can someone have SEVEN cats and not have a Swiffer? Normal methods of dusting just don’t come close. No, they don’t sell Swiffer here… or Drano. Challenges.
  • Fresh produce. I thought I was coming to Spain, so was excited about very affordable fruits and veggies like I used to get in Barcelona. What I forgot was, this is an island. An island essentially in Africa. I paid 4 Euro for an onion.

Things I love:

  • Spanish window shades. I first encountered them in Barcelona a decade ago and I don’t know why they aren’t more prevalent. I think they are meant to keep the sun out for temperature purposes, but boy oh boy they are good for sleeping.
  • Old friends like Schweppes Límon, Principe Estrella cookies, Non-USA Coca-Cola, Zumo de Melocotón (peach juice!), Receta de Campesina flavored Lay’s, decent chorizo for sandwiches. Also, somehow a Mars bar tastes way better than a Milky Way, even though they are the SAME THING.
Spanish Snacks

Snacks I can get in Spain! Yay!

 

Upon Leaving Colorado

I sold my stuff, I left Denver… and it felt weird.  Brief reflections upon leaving what was my home for the past 7 years.

Colorado Rockies

Appreciating what Colorado has to offer

Boy, this feels weird. What has been my life for the past nearly 7 years is no longer. I keep having flashes, most of them mundane. A walk around my neighborhood. The inside of a friend’s house. Old hobbies and habits that have been broken. Old belongings that were always just there that are gone now. Mountain treks and favorite little haunts. It’s a very surreal feeling. I spent my time at DIA in a bit of a fog, feeling hungry and nauseous all at once. I miss my people. I miss my life. I know my new life is going to be awesome (or at the very least strange and different), and it’s something I’ve wanted for a really long time. But right now, a part of me mourns the life I’ve left behind. Like, a Santiago’s burrito would be really great right now.

At least the mountains showed up for me on my last day. They rose majestically to the west as we made our way to the airport. Snow-capped and friendly, reminding me that they, too, would still be there if and when I decide to come back to town.

I get really sentimental about change, I guess. I always have. Leaving my first Denver apartment, I was flooded with emotion. At 8th grade graduation, I was the awkward kid sobbing on stage as we performed the choral rendition of “We’ve Only Just Begun.” Despite the fact that we were all going to the same high school, I was feeling sentimental about times past. The memories in that particular building. I know it sounds cheesy, but it’s how my mind works when I move on from one thing to another.

Crying Graduation 90s

Sometimes, you cry unnecessarily at 8th grade graduation. Sometimes, it’s 1997 and you’re wearing a kick-ass choker.

My apartment in Denver wasn’t all that much to speak of, but it was cozy and it was mine. It was full of comfort and warm memories. In fact, some of its best memories were formed in the most recent months. The fact that that time period in my life is over feels very strange to me. That it’s not all just sitting there, waiting for me to return.

On Human Connection

Preparing for the idea of loneliness and maintaining human connection when embarking on a solo, nomadic lifestyle.

My original intent with this blog was to publish one or two posts a week regularly, as that has been known to build and keep your reader base. Then, the impossible (but predictable) happened: I met someone. One month before I was supposed to leave, I met a human. I’m not going to go too deep into that except to say, I met a human and we connected in a way that certainly doesn’t happen for me every day, or year, or probably decade. So, I decided to prioritize. I knew that I was on the precipice of a lifestyle that, while exciting, would be filled with a lot of solitude and plane rides and chances to write. I only had a month (well, I turned it into two) to spend with this new, wonderful human and learn as much as I could about them. In addition, I was obviously also concerned with spending time with all the other pals I was preparing to leave. As a result, I now have a collection of blog posts at various states of completion that will get published a wee bit after the time when they were actually relevant to my process. That’s okay, right?

Tell me it’s okay and that readers who come to this blog later in the game won’t even know the timeline. TELL ME, because being disingenuous makes me itch.

Solitude

As a rule, you’re not alone if you have someone to take your picture.

Though that sort of connection doesn’t happen for me often, I have been known to revel in, hold onto, and some may say place too much importance on human connections in my life in general. I hold onto friends and people that are important to me. I will make all attempts to stay in touch with people, waiting for way longer to give up than most would if not reciprocated. I tend to be sad about leaving even the worst jobs because I will no longer be connected to the people I’ve come to know there. It’s just a part of who I am. I believe that these connections we make change us and better us, and I delight in getting in touch with old friends or people from my past and hearing their stories.

And while I know that I will have no problem meeting people throughout my travels, one of the first things I had to really come to terms with was how lonely this path will be, most of the time.

Bharma Barcelona

If not for meeting cool people when I travel, I never would have been brought to Bharma, the LOST-themed bar in Barcelona.

I will meet people, yes. I will likely have people to drink with or adventure with, or at least small talk with at the local bar, but I won’t have any of my solid compatriots. You know, the easy pals that you can just spend time with without expending too much effort. The people who care about your mundane stories, whose stupid stories you also like to hear. They will all be a world away. In Connecticut, or Oregon, or Colorado, for example. Fortunately for me, I have never been afraid of solitude, but sometimes you just need your people and I will simply not be in most places long enough to achieve such depth in my new relationships.

Luckily, technology prevails, for now. Keeping in touch is easier than ever, and I haven’t lived in the same places as my closest buds for nearly a decade, if not more. I’m not worried about that. It’s the in-person outlets that I’ll miss. The leisurely lunches or happy hours. The local bar where everyone really does know my name. Family, who has no choice but to love you, regardless of how much of a dink you are. They’ll still be a mere Internet away, but I need to prepare myself for this change. After all, think of all the love letters and postcards and care packages that are possible. Vintage romance!

This is okay. I accept this. I know that part of this entire plan revolves around getting me outside of my comfort zone. Lord knows that during my last months in Denver, my productivity was at an all-time low due to my feelings of comfort and happiness being at an all-time high. Instead of maintaining a rigorous schedule, I’d been focusing on and prioritizing nurturing my human connections. I think this is okay too.

Solitude on La Plata peak

Solitude is a state of mind. For example, a new friend was snapping this lonely photo.

One true positive that I haven’t fully addressed yet is the combination of my freedom in time and travel. I have free flights, I have no brick and mortar job requiring my presence. I will be able to move about and see people I wasn’t able to see much of before. On the one hand, things might get lonely. I may feel separated and adrift from my core humans. But, on the other hand, I will be able to see a wider breadth of important people on a much more regular basis.

There are many people I will miss. Unfortunately, I can’t take everyone I love everywhere with me at all times (this is actually probably for the best, I would get nothing done!). I need to have faith that the strong connections will endure and look forward to the wide variety of new weirdos that I’ll meet as I go.

A Colorado Cat Goes to Connecticut

Not sure who was more stressed out during our trip across the country, me or the cat

Picture this: a woman in her mid-30’s, standing by the luggage carousel at Westchester County Airport, with a cat in a bag strapped over her shoulder, sobbing openly. Two plane-loads of people milling about, waiting for their own luggage, casting furtive glances. Even the cat, who had had a rough go herself, had finally fallen silent.

I can only imagine the thoughts or questions that go through people’s minds when they see something like this in public. I’m assuming it’s more common in airports than in other locations, but I think most people are able to quell their tears until they are in a more private location. That has never been a gift of mine.

Kitten Tummy

A newly adopted kitten, helping me grade papers

I had just gotten to the end of a journey I had been dreading. I had anxiety about moving my cat since it first crossed my mind. In fact, I probably put off making plans like this numerous times before because the cat got in my way. I had made a commitment to her when I adopted her. I was to be her mom and she and I would be companions. I don’t like reneging on commitments, which is why I hesitate to make them until I am sure about them. And this one took its toll. Every time I looked at her, I was wracked with guilt.

Additionally, she is an AWFUL traveler. Every trip to the vet is a torture experiment that involves a lot of screaming and expelling of fluids from all feline orifices. Not a pleasant experience for either of us. Last time, she soiled herself before I even got her to the car. And forget about when we moved to my current apartment. She, a cat who never has an accident, squatted in the closet and made eye contact with me as she screamed and peed. Not a good look. And that was only a four-mile move. I couldn’t imagine how this move across the country would go. In a plane.

The vet had given me some drugs to give her to calm her down, and I did a trial run with them the week before. I was a little surprised to see that they weren’t tranquilizers but anti-anxiety meds. So she was fully alert, just slightly more chill than usual. This would not be enough, I thought.

Cat in Carrier

Nube actually hanging in her carrier during the drug test run

I lined her carrier with puppy pads and a towel I was willing to dispose of. I packed an extra shirt for me, extra rags, extra puppy pads, and a plastic bag to put soiled things in. Stress was at an all-time high as I prepared to take her away (the amount of times my realtor has seen or heard me cry is now just getting indecent).

She did surprisingly well, most of the time. She cried a lot and didn’t sleep. But she wasn’t screaming or panicking. Even the level of soiling wasn’t too bad. She didn’t puke, she wasn’t panting excessively. A few turds escaped (one on the floor of airport security when I took her out, oops), but it wasn’t bad.

In the middle of the second flight, however, I think the pills must have worn off. She had some moments of screaming and thrashing around violently in her carrier. I’m assuming this is when she peed. But again, compared to what I thought it was going to be like, it really wasn’t that bad.

So why, then, did I find myself sobbing in front of the baggage claim?

As the plane began to descend, it started to hit me. This particular move, taking my cat out of our Colorado home and dropping her off in Connecticut, is the first real “no looking back” step of this whole process. Until now, in the planning phase, it has still been just that: a plan. Now it is all starting to take shape. As I walked out the door and into my Lyft to the airport, my realtors were in my place getting it ready to show.

Cat snuggles

Adjusting surprisingly well to life in Connecticut

For most of this process, I’ve been excited, aware of the things I will miss but knowing that things are fluid and an uncertain future brims with limitless possibilities. Recently, however, I’ve found myself digging in my heels. I’ve brewed up a lot of complicated feelings about leaving, and I’m sure they will only intensify as the clock ticks on and more and more irreversible milestones are hit.

But, as people keep reminding me, irreversible is just a concept. Nothing is set in stone. Nothing is permanent. If, in the deep depths of my heart, I decide I want to return to Denver, I CAN. Maybe it will be a little less affordable once I sell my apartment, but it’s still possible. Anything is possible.

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