First Look

Let's recap, we all know I have OCD, I am Type A and hate to be without my chapstick and hand lotion for more than 30 seconds (think I am joking? try me). So when I wrote in a previous post I had a few questions about what conditions I would be dealing with in India, to say I was anxious about the answers was an understatement.

I know, I am volunteering, I know, millions of people live in awful conditions around the world and I should thank my lucky stars for a roof over my head, clean drinking water and the fact that I can sleep at night without a mosquito net. But let's get real, I am not the Peace Corps joining, hemp harvesting, natural deodorant wearing type. So in theory "disconnecting" sounds fun, but one must ask - how disconnected does that really mean? And will there be a panic button that I can push which will rush me back to a place with a 90-hr DVR and a SodaStream?

My Answers: 

AC - only in guest house. Yikes, don't care for this very much. Especially since I make my husband and kids layer up as I chill down my abode. Mama doesn't like to sweat. 

Internet - in guest house, yes! Thank god. I am not sure I can be without a steady stream of celebrity news. I consider informing the children of Chennai about which Housewife is off the rails - the true humanitarian work. 

Toilets - Ugh...this is the kicker. Many emails went back and forth and a definition and Google search followed of "non-Western" toilets. To be honest, I had to first Google if USA was Western or not. I am not very bright. Let's just say, the house I will be staying in has a flushing toilet and some of the orphanages do to - but not all. So limited water intake and a lot of "walking it off" will be taking place. 

In all, I am pretty happy with my answers. Especially that I was told it will be the rainy season and to pack a raincoat. Which in my mind, means "you can now purchase those adorable Hunter rain boots you have been lusting over - but couldn't justify buying because you live in the desert". Thanks, India. 

Here are a few pictures of the house I will be staying in. It looks nice and who doesn't love to sit in plastic patio chairs? I feel they put that fan there just for me. I wonder, is the box of tissues in the bedroom for me to use, as I silently sob over how I hate my roommate? 

The Ask

I have been wanting to travel and volunteer for years, it has been on my "bucket list" (even though I would never call it that as I hate that name). What has been holding me back you ask? Money! It isn't cheap to travel internationally, heck, I can barely afford to get to San Diego and that is just a few hours away. 

In the last few years Derek and I have spent any expendable income on preparing to become foster parents. We traded in our old, unreliable cars for more fuel efficient family trucksters. We remodeled and updated our rooms to accommodate many different age ranges and bought many beds, cribs and strollers. 

The funny thing about being foster parents is there are no baby showers, no time when your family and friends sit you down and shower you with gifts of things you so desperately need. No congratulation gifts, baby games and sugary sweets in honor of your bundle of joy. It is all on you. 

So deciding to spend two weeks vacation time, $1700 service fee, plus the $1600+ airfare to India - well, that was a lot to plan for. Many people have said "wait, you have to pay to volunteer?" Uh, duh, yes! I will be gone for two weeks, staying in Chennai and helping abandoned and orphaned children. They don't just let you do that for free - it costs. And quite frankly, a lot for this girl. 

But I am determined to get there, and here are a few "resolutions" if you will to help me:
1. Limit Starbucks intake - I can save a bunch of money drinking (gasp) store bought coffee.
2. No eating out - unless in the weekly budget. 
3. Drink at home - do you know how much a night of pricey cocktails can cost?
4. Realize your children don't need a new outfit daily (this is hardest for me).
5. Ask for help.

I am struggling with #5. I realize my trip to India is for me, and asking for others to help me get there - that isn't easy. Some of the best people in my life have said they wanted to support me, and if that means they would like to donate to my trip - I would be more than grateful. But please know, I am not expecting anyone to care or help me get to India. 

If you are so inclined, the volunteer group (501c3 non-profit) has set up a donation page for my trip. I encourage you to take a look (link below), no pressure to donate, just read about my trip and what I will be doing. 

http://donations.globalvolunteers.org/erinschmidt

Did they tell you not to smile?

Hello, my name is Erin, I'm 34 and have no Passport. 

"Hi, Erin". 

Well, that is what I feel should happen. Seriously, though....where do I go? I don't need a Passport. Last I checked you didn't need one to enter the Total Wine, Ikea or the Container Store in Scottsdale. I travel for work but unless the fabulous city of Huntsville, AL was out of country lines; I think I am OK. 

I didn't want a Passport to remind me of the places I have yet to visit. The empty pages staring at me like a nagging girlfriend. "Get out and get a life," it would say. But what I really didn't want to have to deal with - the Passport photo! I secretly moved to AZ so my license didn't expire for 75 years and can use the same photo until I am in my late 50's (its actually a really good photo, dumb luck I guess). So I couldn't risk having a bad Passport photo, it would kill me. 

So I prepared, planned, exfoliated, moisturized and spritzed. I was ready, I had the light dewy glow of sun-kissed skin, there wasn't a curl out of place and I had practiced my best smile, not too big because my face is already huge. I strut into the Passport office on the campus of the University of Arizona in my best outfit (super cute newly purchased vintage heels) and what, it was closed! Blimey. What to do? I have 60 minutes to take the best photo of my life. 

I raced to CVS to find some drunk college kid stole their camera, lovely, Tucson. Off to Walgreens where the lady behind the photo counter was seriously untrained in taking a good photo. I almost backed out, I couldn't trust her in her stained kacky pants and greasy hair to take a good picture. And she didn't. It was horrible. My necklace was all jacked up and my chin seemed to have grown three more while I stood there. But I was over it and I didn't want to break her little heart - she seemed so proud of it. So I paid the money, took the crappy photo and quickly had Derek make fun of how weird I look. Ugh. Perfect outfit and hair-day wasted!

Cut to try #2 at the UofA Passport office, I turn in my photo and the young lady (why is everyone so much younger than me?) says, "we can't use this, your glasses have major glare. We must retake." What, no, no, no, she must be mistaken? I have on yoga pants, my hair hasn't seen Wen in five days and the only makeup I have on is a light tinted moisturizer (no, thank you Josie Maran). But I was forced, and this picture is beyond bad. It will haunt me, follow me around like some bad Nick Nolte mug shot. 

At least I still have my Visa picture to take - and trust me, I will hire a stylist if I need to.