Guest Post by @nomadicchick
The other day I mused upon my obsession with coconuts. It dawned on me that I have a serious problem.

Grocery shopping. We all do it, typically on a weekly basis. I usually go on Sundays to stock up for the week. On this particular Sunday, I really needed jam. There I was darting my head around the peanut butter/jam aisle. Raspberry – a trite tart – kind of a fall back. Strawberry, ooh those big chunks of sugared berries are deelish. I started to grab for reliable ol’Strawberry, when it distracted me. Gasping aloud, I greedily snatched this newfound treasure.
Some illustrious human created jam from coconuts?? Produced in Singapore? A far-flung exotic locale?! I jumped up and down in the aisle, flapping my arms as a bird does to prepare for flight. Oh mama, I was on that plane to coconut heaven.
Then, I opened it.
Boogers. I just laid down hard earned money, dollars that should be flying straight to my travel budget for green boogers. Everyday. I eat the visual equivalent for snot every single morning, spread it happily on my Kamut bread, marveling at the mixture of sugar and coconut as one.

On a serious note, maybe I was dropped as a baby. Before you tweet how unhinged I am, take a stroll with me down the lane of whimsy for a sec.
Coconuts mimic the shape of the world. Round, at times smooth or rough, dependent on a destination. When a traveler cracks it open, those intense experiences are the juices flowing down, giving sustenance to the curious, adventure minded.
That’s how I travel – thrusting myself into the center, absorbing each encounter and reshaping them into jam or macaroons or pie. Whatever turns the wheel of travel, be it Krakow, Pai, or Biratnagar, travel is a sweet nectar that challenges and renews me.
Hence, my coconuts, are truly my travels.
About Jeannie
Jeannie Mark, the Nomadic Chick, will abandon the cubicle in 2010 to hit the road with a backpack and laptop in search of stories, interviews and self-reflection. Oh, and some laughs too!









