Capstone Do-over

I found that traveling is a lot like when my dad does the laundry. Things that used to fit shrink, some clothing gets lost, and you end up with a new and different wardrobe. And in case you were curious, those aren’t rose-colored glasses you’re looking through—the original is actually a whole new color: maybe a little brighter, maybe a little more dull.

I found that experience has the interesting habit of changing everything. Some people travel and come back with great stories and a new appreciation for what they have. Some come back with a reputation preceding their return—with viral social networking, what happens in Europe never stays in Europe. Some bring back dreamy stories about a place they hated while they were there, repainted in sepia tones by nostalgia. Others come back scrapping all previous plans, formulating whole new lives.

I found that I had both tried too hard and taken the easiest route when it came to my Capstone project. It was easy to settle for putting together a magazine, I had already done it and it was just a matter of changing the content. Convincing myself that this was what I wanted to do became the hard part (though I was realizing that I kind of didn’t). The problem with planning Capstone while I was abroad wasn’t that I didn’t know what I wanted to do. I wasn’t thrilled with the travel-writing-publication idea, but I was happy enough. No, it was a problem that I was in a state of extreme transition; I hardly knew who I was becoming, so how could I know what kind of project would encompass myself, my passions, and my skills? It was impossible to design a project meant to be a culmination of what I’m capable of, what I want to do, and who I am when it was becoming clear that I hadn’t the foggiest idea. The settling of this shift came as I left Ireland and moved back to Vermont, when I realized that one shade of green matches my eyes better than the other. And that I needed to get back. ASAP. Burlington shrunk in the wash. I’m trading in my Birkenstocks for a pair of runners.

The goal: Get back to Ireland as immediately as possible.

Me: Type A, get-it-done, go-forth-and-conquer, get-the-hell-out-of-my-way Capricorn.

The means, broken down into two options:

A)Any possible
B)Combining my people skills, my travel skills, my organizational skills, my writing skills, my editing skills, my managerial skills, my teaching and tour guide experience, and my entrepreneurial skills and starting a travel writing tour business in Ireland.

In a basic, vague, still barely formed nutshell, writing vacations in Ireland. Exploring, learning, writing. Workshopping. Editing. Blogging. Live chats online. Travelling with groups of writers, students, and bored middle-aged housewives.

So how does Capstone fit into this? Easy. My Capstone is going to be making this happen. Business plans. Media packages. PR. I’m going to have to learn the ins-and-outs of starting a business. Of economics. Of tourism. Of Irish laws, rules, and regulations. Of things I can’t even think of at the moment, things I can’t yet imagine. I’m going to have to talk to Bob Locke, travel agents, pre-established tour companies (VBT comes to mind). I’m going to have to read up on Irish immigration and work visa laws, and on starting my own business in a foreign country. Will I need to get myself an Irish partner just to legally get this off the ground? I’m going to need relationships with publications, blogs, videoblogs. Connections in Ireland. Employees. Ideas. And, oh yeah, tourists.

If I do everything right—even a clumsy, haphazard, halfway kind of right—this is the kind of thing that practically sells itself. And it’s perfect for me.

In the words of Tim Brookes: Anthony Bourdain, eat your feckin’* heart out.

Capstone. Boosh.

* Note: As Tim Brookes is very obviously British and “feckin’” is very obviously Irish, this is, very obviously, an inclusion of mine. Just sayin’.