I lugged The Beast 2,777 miles across the United States from New York City to Los Angeles. He never complained about the long journey, although I heard him groan and wail under the strain of his own weight. The airlines staff had too much to say about his unshapely figure. “That Beast will not make it on this aircraft unless it is at least 25 pounds lighter.” Panic! I pulled the gargantuan suitcase to the side and apologized to it before exposing him in public.

From the maw of my over-sized suitcase, I flung items right and left in search of the heaviest things: I slipped on two coats, shoved rain boots into my guitar case, threw out a bath towel. Sweating, I ran back to the counter as everyone in line glared at me. The Beast remained twelve pounds over weight. More panic! I repeated the aforementioned process — slipped on another sweater, shoved books under my armpits — until finally, The Beast qualified to fly.

How clever I considered myself, hiding away possessions in pockets, but I must have had a shifty eye when I boarded. Upon embarkation, I was sited for toting too much stuff and was asked to check some of it. Sure, I agreed. Then, I proceeded to slink onto the plane with excess baggage in tow hoping no one would notice. Shoulders aching, neck clammy, I plunged into my seat at last feeling sly and relieved. The intercom wailed, “Passenger Megan Snedden, you were asked to check your guitar, but failed to do so. Please push the call button and we’ll retrieve your excess baggage.” Caught. As everyone rubbernecked in my direction, I returned their scowls with an unforgiving look at my neighbor and shook my head. Sheesh, some people.

Travel is inconvenient. Even now I write to you from Dubai at 5 a.m. unable to sleep because I haven’t yet adjusted to the 12-hour time difference. On top of that, I spent half the day yakking in public at the Dubai Marina after I consumed some bad shwarma. Outside right now, as the sun rises, a monotone male voice calls out in Arabic, summoning society to morning prayers, perhaps this is what I was meant to enjoy at this moment. Another cultural anomaly.

It’s these inconvenient memories, though, we look back on with nostalgia. The ones we laugh about. Misery eventually gives way to something fond. This is what we travelers set out into the world looking for: blissfully unaware circumstances.

Two days ago, I took a leap and set off on a journey around the world from the Arab Emirates to India to Australia. I know not what the road ahead has in store, but the choice to circumnavigate the world for the first time means a lot of things for me. At the beginning of the year, I met a boy (and I say that in the most school-girl way) who changed my perspective on love. At one of the toughest, most unlovable-feeling moments of my life (one in which I waded through the treachery of grief)  he stayed by my side and showed me the light. So when he asked, ”Will you come with me around the world?” Undeniably I said, yes.

There are definitive moments when we make decisions that shape the rest of our lives. Do I turn left or right? Should I go back and grab the umbrella? A series of revolving doors we walk through at every crossroad, every decision sending us somewhere. Decisions. Decisions. Who knows where I would be at this moment had I not said yes to this trip.

I have found that making yourself vulnerable to love means broadening the frame. Letting someone in can be scary because of the uncertainties, but the reward is exactly that: love. And it is worth it.

Now, onward friends through the Arab Emirates.