So you want to be a backpacker

Y'all, I'm a backpacker. It's not something I ever dreamed about, or pictured myself doing, or made space for on my non-existant bucket list. But it's happening anyway, and I'm really excited about it. Despite what my face looks like in the following picture.

attempting the impossible

Let me give you a little context here. I am a serial over-packer. Been doing it since way back when. Like, when I moved to Southern France to work as an au pair for three months, I took multiple suitcases...and my parents still had to ship boxes of my belongings across the ocean. I'm ashamed to admit that publicly, but there it is. Now that my confession has been made and the scene has been set, I hope everyone can fully appreciate the following photo.

fashion + function = love

I'm sitting in LAX and spying on potential celebs while on a three-hour layover to Seattle right now. My backpack is at my feet. It's carrying everything in the above photo. The content total:

• 3 tanks
• 2 basic tees (1 black, 1 white)
• 4 sweaters (1 camel, 1 black/gray combo, 1 plum, 1 orange)
• 1 raincoat (my first ever Patagonia purchase, and I feel super outdoorsy about it)
• 1 pair of Timberland boots (see above description of my new backwoods credentials) 
• 2 pairs of pants (1 black stretchy pair from Anthropologie, 1 pair of leggings-slash-jeans…leans?)
• 3 tops
• 1 leather jacket 

Considering my husband only packed three shirts to be worn in rotation throughout our 10-day work-cation, it looks like I still overpacked. But STILL. It all fits into this and it's really not THAT heavy, so I feel like I should get the backpacking world's equivalent of an Oscar.  

my osprey farpoint 40

Assuming you agree, I would like to thank the Academy for this honor, as well as my husband for carrying my laptop in his bag, as well as the extremely helpful travel blog Travel Fashion Girl. Had I not discovered Alex's blog, I would probably be wearing convertible zip-off pants right now along with a sign on my forehead that says TOURIST in all caps. Thankfully, her posts taught me that as long as the items I take are fold-able, breathable, and walk-for-long-distances-able, I don't actually need to buy "travel" gear. For instance, I learned that rayon/polyester blends work really well when it comes to pants. Hence the excuse for my new Anthropologie skinnies. 

at the airport, via @karleykiker on Instagram

Another thing I picked up from Alex's blog: the importance of packing cubes. Prior to our spur-of-the-moment, we-found-really-cheap-tickets trip to Seattle, I had never even heard of packing cubes. Now I wonder what I ever did without them. Remember all of those clothes I showed you earlier? This is what happened to them.

ebags packing cubes

And this is how it happened.

We're on the ground in Seattle now and already having adventures. We've ridden buses, checked into our Airbnb location, and watched the Seahawks game in a local pub. Our plan for the rest of our stay is that we have no definite plans other than working in the mornings and exploring in the afternoons. 

Other notes: Had you gone to my high school, you would know that I wore high heels and a blazer almost every day. Basically I was a 16-year-old who dressed like a sophisticated mom (and absolutely loved it). I like clothes. I like fashion. I like getting dressed up and looking cute. Which is probably why I got reactions like this when I mentioned our backpacking trip:

"Ten days with only a backpack? You're not even going to be able to fit all of your underwear in there!"

"Are you sleeping on the ground?"

"Are you sure you're ready for this?"

I know I didn't mention the underwear thing earlier, but for the record, all of my, um, essentials did fit into my backpack along with the other aforementioned items. We are not sleeping on the ground. It's important to note that when I say "backpacking," I mean that I'm literally carrying a backpack, not that I'm setting up a tent, wearing bug spray, and/or singing campfire songs. And finally, no, I'm not sure that I was ready for this. But we're doing it anyway, and I'm having so much fun with this new experience. And by so much fun, I mean I'm so glad I married a guy who actually knows what he's doing, and that I'm basically claiming his knowledge and confidence as my own and going with the flow.

If you're interested in following our journey, check back for additional blogs and follow us via hashtag on Twitter (@karleykiker) and Instagram (@karleykiker): #kikersenroute. 

“A good traveler has no fixed plans and is not intent on arriving.” Lao Tzu

Marriage Monday: A trip for two

Last weekend, Taylor and I went on a trip to San Antonio. We had two goals: to celebrate our first wedding anniversary, and to take a step toward our dream of traveling together.

Taylor and I have both done quite a bit of traveling on our own, so I think we both assumed that adventuring out into the world as a team would be really easy for us. After all, we've been married for A WHOLE YEAR. Meaning we have this marriage thing on lock-down, we're certified relational experts, and we never-ever experience conflict. Except, wait...none of those things are true. Here's how that realization played out:

DAY ONE

Day One went off without a hitch, minus the fact that I left a celebratory bottle of wine and two extremely necessary cups of coffee at our apartment. No big deal. We overcame these potentially argument-inducing obstacles with ease, and proceeded to the highway. Detours incurred were only of the fun variety—Czech Stop for kolaches (and replacement coffee), and a surprise visit to the Natural Bridge Caverns. After arriving in San Antonio, we prettied up a bit at our hotel and hit the Riverwalk for dinner. Love-and-marriage success!

DAY TWO

And then came Day Two, when I was reminded why I always tell newly-engaged friends that "marriage reveals selfishness." Let's set the scene: San Antonio is experiencing record-breaking heat waves. I open up my bag in the morning and realize that I left every single pair of shorts I own at home (and that obviously I'm not as adept at late-night packing as I previously imagined). I am forced to wear black workout pants (which smell like the inside of a cave thanks to the activities of Day One), a workout tank, and tennis shoes. We proceed to the Alamo, where every other girl there is wearing a cute sundress and cute sandals and cute sunglasses. It's fine. 

Oh, yes. We "Remember the Alamo."

Post Alamo, Taylor suggests that we rent city bikes and visit the rest of the "nearby" missions. He graciously asks if I would like to do this. I pause for a long moment, because I am not good at biking, I am hungry, and I am already feeling the heat...but ultimately I give the plan the go-ahead, because 1. I can tell that he really wants to go, and 2. I think that there is potential in the plan for a few cute Instagrams (see this post for details).

Noticeably, there are no pictures of me at the missions. Why? Read on.

Long story short, my attitude plummeted from agreeable to tolerable to every-word-out-of-my-mouth-is-a-complaint in about 10 minutes. The "short" bike ride was actually 18 (hilly) miles in its entirety, and by the time we arrived at the first mission, my arms were sunburned from the tops of my shoulders to the backs of my hands. Naturally, I made sure to call out frequent updates about the status of my burn, the severity of my thirst, the fact that I had almost crashed into the river, and the searing pain in my calves to Taylor at least every five minutes. Surprise! We ended our bike ride early...and proceeded to enter into a pretty decently sized fight.

Conflict inevitably happens in every relationship, whether it's a romantic relationship or even a friendship. But in marriage, you don't just get to agree to disagree...or run away to your hotel room and pout. You commit to work it out, to dig to the bottom, to see through the other person's eyes, and to understand. And so in that moment—the one where we were supposed to be having fun, but seriously considering high-tailing it back to Dallas—we learned something(s).

He likes to jam-pack his travel schedule.
I like to move at a slower pace.
He likes to do action-oriented activities that require sturdy travel clothes.
I like to find the most authentic cafes and boutiques in town...and look "cute" while doing it.
He can go all day without eating.
I...can't.

These aren't travel-together deal breakers by any means. They're just differences and preferences that, even after one year of marriage, we didn't know existed.

DAY THREE

Learning the aforementioned lesson made Day Three a lot more balanced. We woke up, walked to a nearby Mercado, and enjoyed a breakfast of Mexican pastries and coffee. Afterward, we packed our bags and finished out our mission tour...only this time, by car. On the drive home, we stopped by the San Marcos outlets—his request—and made time for a burgers-and-shakes lunch at a local hole-in-the-wall I spotted while driving down the highway.

. . .

About a month after our wedding, a recently-engaged friend called and asked for my best marriage advice. Although I threw out an "I've only been married for a few weeks"-disclaimer, I still happily shared a few insights, feeling for about five minutes like I might have really figured a few things out.

If I'd really nailed down the whole marriage thing during month one, I'd be an expert (and probably a certified counselor) by now. But here's the truth—like all things that are holy and God-ordained and good, marriage is continually revealing the cracks in me. I hear that this is called sanctification, and although it's painful (and even embarrassing) to come face-to-face with my own shortcomings on a regular basis, it is such a good, good thing.

Missions, Round Two: Success!

These are just a few of the things I've learned during year one of our Hitched in a Hurry marriage:

Compromise. Teamwork. Laughing at mistakes. Asking for forgiveness. Saying, "I'm sorry." Saying, "I'm sorry" again. Accepting apologies. Moving past conflict. Choosing to have fun. Thinking of your spouse. Loving them through the pretty and the not-so-pretty moments. Chipping away at selfishness. Giving. Growing. Forgetting about how things are "supposed" to happen. Throwing plans out the window. Refusing to walk away. Standing in awe of the Father's goodness. Feeling humbled and blessed beyond measure at the gift of doing life with your best friend. Seeking and following and becoming more like Jesus, both as individuals and as a unit.

So thanks for the memories, San Antonio, and happy Marriage Monday, y'all. I hope you'll be encouraged by this new blog series!

Let's play catch-up

If there are any long-time bloggers out there who happen to stumble across this looks-like-I've-been-blogging-forever, but actually-really-inconsistent piece of cyberspace, please answer this question:

How do you keep coming up with (interesting) things to write about?

Please don't direct me to your post/the cupcakes & cashmere post/any other post on blogging "how-tos and FAQS"...I've probably read all of them, anyway. I'm not looking for info on how to gain a massive following, here — just admitting that I feel lame talking about what I ate for dinner and what my favorite shade of Essie nail polish is. Does anyone seriously care about that stuff? Other than you, mom.

I'm pretty sure that I don't have writer's block, because, well...I'm a writer. I've finished my first novel manuscript and am currently working on a sassy + fun how-to book.

I still don't think this means that people care about my nail polish preferences. (Although for the record, I love neutrals, coral, and turquoise...AKA, our wedding colors).

Anyway — that was kind of an aside, but I'd love for you to leave your thoughts in the comment box. How do you determine what content is blog-worthy, and what's just TMI?

~

On another note, Labor "Day" should be renamed "Gain 5+ Pounds Weekend." Hubs and I took a 10-hour road trip and met up with the in-laws in Alabama (does this count as a travel post?), and oh-my-gosh-like-wow did we eat some food. From the fancy to the straight southern fixins, we dined and whined (about how full our stomachs were) all weekend long. We're talking barbeque, mac and cheese, potato salad, deviled eggs, duck tacos, orange danish rolls, and eight trips (okay, three) to Steel City Pops.

I wish I had my own picture to share, but I was too busy eating.

 This one is courtesy of al.com

These pops are LEGIT, y'all. Which is probably why they were just featured in Southern Living Magazine. Personal fav: the coconut pop. It had real toasted coconut flakes at the bottom, and tasted just like the paletas I became addicted to on our honeymoon in the Riviera Maya.

Chowing down on some home-style BBQ. We love you, Alabama.

Although this post may lead you to believe otherwise, the purpose of our trip was NOT to take a culinary tour of Alabama. We actually had to do big-kid stuff, like packing all of my husband's belongings + extra wedding presents into our car. To distract ourselves from menial tasks such as these, we watched football and took touristy breaks.

 

Myself and Vulcan, the symbol(s) of Birmingham

I wish I had taken lots of awesome photographs with my real, non-iPhone camera and then compiled a "GO-SEE-DO" list for Birmingham. But living life takes priority over blogging, you know?

The good news: We now officially have all of our earthly belongings under one roof, meaning I can finally start posting apartment transformation pics, woohoo! InStyle Home, here we come.

~

THROWBACK THURSDAY  

"Pee on a Plane" — The whole "don't judge a book by the cover" thing? This LA mom reminded me that it still stands. Posted exactly three years ago!

"Familiar Faces, New Places" — A tour of Monaco + Saint Paul de Vence circa October 2011

In with the new

I have a new name, a new husband, and a hundred new ideas. So obviously, it's time for a new blog home.

First things first: God is good! Look at this handsome man! He's my husband. What?

Last time I blogged consistently, I was living in the South of France and working as an au pair. I ate chocolate croissants, had an espresso break at 4 o'clock every day, captured artisanal markets with my camera, and visited places such as Paris, Switzerland, and Venice. That was cool and exciting. This whole marriage thing? It's in another league. 

Then, I would see a sunset and swallow all the things I had to say about it. Now, I see a sunset—or Mayan ruins in Mexico, or an episode of The Bachelorette—and I have someone to share it with. I have someone to share life with. I could not be more thankful.

Chichen Itza, our first of the 7 Wonders of the Modern World to see together.

Tales of the Traveling Scarf

Meet Henry.



No, that’s not Henry. That’s me. Henry is the beautiful ikat scarf from H&M coiled lovingly around my neck like a warmer, fuzzier version of the snake in the Britney video.



Ok, not exactly like that, but you get the point.

Why Henry? I don’t know, honestly. It’s not an alliteration (i.e. Thomas/Terry/Teresa the Traveling Scarf) and it doesn’t have a whole lot of personality (i.e. Felicity/Cornelius/Cha-Cha the Traveling Scarf), but it’s the first name that came to my mind. And he has to have a name. He was too much of a presence during my mini-tour of France this past week to remain nameless!

To be honest, Henry is very nearly exhausted. He saw many, many things this week. He was paired with nearly every other garment in my winter wardrobe. He was photographed incessantly. He dealt with anxiety over the fact that he made so many repeat appearances in a row—would people notice? Would he cease to be a “statement” piece, and become just another scarf meant for everyday wear?

Eventually, he got over it once he saw that the same thing was happening to my leather jacket, Lavenia. (There…an alliteration and personality). And once he got over it, I think he really, really enjoyed the sights.

This is what we saw, Henry and me.





 

1. Bar du Pont-Levis in Entrevaux, France

2. Regional special—thinly sliced ham and a pomme de terre gratin

3. A French take on cheesecake and apple pie



















1./2. Beginnings of Christmas market preparation in Strasbourg, France

3. Marrons chaud…literally, chestnuts roasted over an open fire

4. A merry-go-round waiting to be ridden at Christmas

5./6. Strasbourg Cathedral

7./8. Souvenir shops with spices, gingerbread, Christmas ornaments, and postcards

9. Du vin chaud—red wine cooked into a cider with orange peels and cinnamon



10. The French countryside















11. Gorgeous fall colors in Lausanne, Switzerland

12. A really big cat outside of the Palais de Justice

13. Starbucks coffee (a gingerbread latte, to be exact)

14. The alps at dusk

15/16. Some of the best friends a girl could ask for—sorority sisters and my little bro (read more about our last reunion here)

Like I said, Henry is exhausted. Because he was such a good sport this week, I’m going to give him a rest. He won’t be worn again for at least one week.

And then…back around the neck to see the world he goes.

“Fools stand on their island of opportunities and look toward another land. There is no other land; there is no other life but this.” Henry David Thoreau

Dedicating the next few days to planning my French Thanksgiving menu. A bientot, mes amis! xoxo