Stranded Solo

Happy 2011! I hope you all had a wonderful holiday season with friends and family. I know I did. I was lucky enough to spend the past two weeks in North and South Carolina with some of my most favorite people in the whole wide world. What a difference a year makes! Last Christmas was an eye-opening and gut-checking experience, one that I am extremely grateful for, but one I was happy to put behind me and head north for a traditional Joye family Christmas.

The Joye kids

A white Christmas! A big climate change from northern Peru!

I won't bore you all with the quirky and wonderful family traditions -- we all have them. Suffice to say, I had an amazing trip and was reminded, again, just how fortunate I am. This whole living alone in the middle of nowhere thing really makes you appreciate "normal" life and all the people that create that sense of home for you.

Christmas Eve dinner, a favorite tradition

The girls at FollyFest, a new tradition

Today I find myself in travel limbo, stuck in Ecuador waiting on my bags to catch up with me and an open bus to take me back to Peru. For as much as I harp on about the joys of travel, sometimes it's a huge pain in the ass. Not only was I extremely sad to say good-bye, again, to everyone and everything I love back in the States, but now I'm stranded in a nowhere city unsure of when I can get back to my other home. Or when the pieces of my real home my mother so lovingly packed will find me. It's kind of the last place in the world I want to be and reminds me of one of the worst parts of solo travel -- the unsettling sense of homelessness.

Perfecting the self-portrait during some solo sightseeing around Guayaquil, Ecuador

Luckily, there's an abundance of international hotel chains near the airport that accept Visa. A comfy bed, unlimited wifi and a well-stocked mini bar help ease the pain a bit. What else is a girl to do?

**Update** My bags arrived late last night, after much waiting, eyelash batting, and negotiating to get back into international baggage claim to find my own bag. The Goldfish and homemade banana bread are only slightly worse for the wear, as am I. The interminable journey continues. Huaca Rajada, here I come.