When you sign up for the world race, you have an image of what it is going to be like in your head, everyone has a different image and parts of them are true but in your daily life on the race none of them really show what it is actually like. The Race looks like: unimaginably long travel days, rooms filled with bunkbeds and backpacks, and bugs in your bed. Clothes that never quite feel clean, endless searches for solitude, and living by the motto hydrate or die-drate. More bug bites than acne, plans changing more often than not, and realising hand washing your clothing is much more difficult than you could ever imagine. It’s bathing in bug spray before bed, going to the weddings and funerals of strangers, and getting to try the new snacks in each country more than their traditional food. Crowding around an 11 inch screen to watch a movie on a laptop, debating if you really need more than two outfits or all these toiletries when its time to pack for the next country, and being more vulnerable than you’ve ever been with people who were strangers two months ago.
It looks like wanting to cry tears of joy when you get cold water or pizza, injuries and illnesses you never thought you’d experience, and mentally trying to calculate the currency conversion every time you go to buy something. Trying to remember if you can flush toilet paper in this country, long walks for wifi, and never letting your water bottle out of your sight. Frequent talks about the enneagram, praying for a washer and dryer, and becoming friends with the last person you ever thought you’d be friends with. Sunburns and bug bites, carrying hand sanitiser at all times cause you never know if there will be soap, and rice and beans and rice and beans and more rice and beans. Doing your makeup with a flashlight because you don’t want to wake up your roommates at 5 a.m., unbelievable joy when you can walk into a grocery store, and spending hours playing Spicy Uno and discovering your squadmates true colors.
It looks like living out of whatever you can carry on your back, packing and unpacking at least once a month, and never really knowing what is happening or what happens next. Heartbreak over the realities that people face in each country you visit, a seemingly endless stream of goodbyes and, if you’re lucky, feeling like you are leaving home every time you move onto the next country, The staggering hospitality of locals, constant reliance on God, insane amounts of vulnerability, worship nights, team time, feedback, and work; lots of work, wether it’s digging holes, binding books, painting murals, teaching english, public speaking, sanding floors, spending time with orphans, spending time in villages, cleaning up rotten mangoes or demolishing a room, the race is definitely work, but its work i’m so privileged to be doing this year.
