Preparation

(my last American meal)

I thought wearing a long tube top dress with a sweater so you couldn’t see the tube would be the perfect outfit to wear to apply for my visa at the Bangladesh Embassy in DC.

But I forgot my sweater.

In my visa photo I look like I’m naked. In the (muslim) embassy I walked around with an open folder covering myself. It was very couture. Needless to say I got my visa the day before I left.

My mom came up two days before I had to leave to help me organize everything and keep me from throwing up. I ran to the school to finish up loose ends and to track down the turtle bracelets I needed to do my project in Bangladesh. The event went down in all caps.

“WHERE’S THE TURTLE? WHO HAS THE TURTLE? SHE FOUND THE TURTLE?! GET IT IN THE BAG! HURRY THE HELL UP!!!! OH MY GOD IT’S 70 POUNDS SHE CAN’T TAKE THAT WITH HER. CHELSEA WE HAVE TO GO!!! HURRY RUN RUN RUN GRAB THE TURTLE GRAB THE TURTLE.”

In addition to the 70 pound bag of turtle bracelets I was to lug with me to Bangladesh I packed medicine. Medicine for coughs, cold, fever, headaches, itching, bitching, mild and severe diarrhea, hypochondria, burns, aches and pains and cuts. Medicine and turtles. That’s about it.

It’s the night before I leave and I’m lying in bed making lists of lists of lists. I was surprised at how nonchalant everyone was about me leaving. I wasn’t expecting speeches or sacrifice, but I also wasn’t expecting people to wish me bye and turn quickly to the person to their left.

I feel like I’m on this roller coaster climbing up a large hill and no one can get me off or stop the ride. There is nothing for me to do but lift my arms and give in. Maybe I’ll get a good picture out of it.