Money Woes

I like to make the financial arrangements concerning our marriage. This is probably not the best idea, since A. I can't manage money and B. I suck at bargaining. Everything is so cheap here I can't help but agree to the first price someone quotes me.

As we get into the rickshaw (rickshaw!).
"How much"
"Two dollars"
"Great!"

I get in as Sarah folds her arms and informs the driver and myself and anyone else with in earshot that we are paying WAAAAY too much money. I give the driver an embarrassed "What are you gonna do?" look and die a little inside.

Note to women: this behavior is terribly emasculating to your men. As stupid as his decisions regarging money may seem, they are important to him. He probably knows he's a sucker as much as you do. He just dosen't want this pointed out. If it's a down payment on a house, then by all means, have your say. If it's a three dollar hotel room, just let it go. By the way, the hotel we're staying in right now costs four dollars.

Sometimes, she argues the price after I have already paid.

"Two shirts?"
"Three dollars"
"Great!"

As I walk out of the store, I hear Sarah trying to bargain. "One dollar for two shirts."

My face reddens.

"Come on honey, let's go."
"Three dollars is too much."

Store woman gives me a look, I smile weakly.

Sarah slowly begins to walk out,

"Ok, but I just think that is WAAAAY to much."

"Honey? Can we please go?"

Travel, like marriage, takes compromise, as I am learning. Maybe she should handle the money.

-brendan

I'm Only 30, But...

My wife probably feels like she married an 80 year old man. I am currently suffering from a gigantic lip blister (the sun?), a bruised rib, and a total loss of hearing in my right ear. Long story short, I (unwisely) decided to try swinging on a rope over a fast-moving river. At the height of my swing, I (unwisely) decided to let go of the rope, dropping twenty feet into the water. I landed in the worst possible way. On my ear. Even underwater I could hear two dozen people watching my landing cry "OHHH!!" and "That's gotta hurt!" I may never recover. At least that's what I tell my wife every five minutes. I think she's sick of hearing about it. She won't tell me this though. I guess that's a perk of being married. Someone is always there to hear you complain.

To the women reading this, please note that when your man is hurt in a freak rope swing accident, all he wants is lots of sympathy. Men may act tough, but we're all babies. All we want is some attention and a glass of milk, preferrably with cookies.

So we went to the hospital at the end of a long dirt road way out of town. When we got there we were told by a buddist monk (the only person we could find) that the hospital would re-open in a few minutes. Apparently, we got there at the end of the lunch hour. You know, when the hospital is closed. Upon finding a person in a white lab coat (the assumption here is that she was in fact a real doctor), I witnessed a side of my wife I didn't know she had. She became (without this sounding too Oedipal) my mother. Deftly, she grilled the doctor. Or rather, a middle aged man with bad shoes acting as translator.

"So there is nothing in his ear?"
"His ear in inflamed? What does that even mean?"
"Will he ever hear again?" This question shocked me. The answer was, "I don't know".
"So there is no wax in his ear?"
"You're saying there is no wax in his ear, correct?"

And so on.

We still don't have any answers. All I know is that it's nice to have Sarah there to lean up into my ear and tell me what someone is saying. Cause I can't hear a damn thing.

-brendan

And now, about me.

Hi. My name is Sarah Moran. I'm a 29-year old California native whose life recently got very, very interesting.

Brendan and were married on May 20th, 2006, at six-o-clock in the evening. The forecast had called for rain, and so I had cried throughout the previous day, occasionally yelling at my mother for not being able to perform meteorological miracles. I guess she felt bad enough to perform one, because the skies cleared and I was able to have that outdoor ceremony on the grass after all. It was an elegant affair and the entire event ran smoothly. Several of our guests actually told us it was the nicest wedding they'd ever been to, and obviously to a bride on her wedding night, compliments don't get better than that.

I know that I was just one of many millions of women who get married every year to their lifetime partner of choice. And it really did feel that way going into the wedding. Cold feet was an emotion I never experienced. Although I did have a recoccuring nightmare that I would trip over my dress walking down the aisle and fall on top of my bouquet, and by crushing it kick off a downward spiral of a lifetime of misfortune that would follow me to my grave. Seriously, I must have had that dream five times. I *almost* bought a pair of $400 Marc Jacobs glitter pumps in an effort to convince my noctural goppelganger that I was willing to go the extra mile for bridal shoes in order to secure my rightful place in the history book of Women Who Didn't Fall While Walking Down the Aisle (besides, I could have totally worn them again). I guess deep down inside I knew everything would be ok, and it was. I didn't fall, and I consider myself incredibly lucky.

Ok, so here's the real reason I didn't buy those pumps: Ten days after our nuptials, Brendan and I were on a plane bound for Greece, and not scheduled to return for a year. We quit our jobs, put everything we owned into storage, outfitted ourselves with shiny new backpacks, and hit the road. Now, I know what you're thinking. "Wow, that sounds fun. I should really think about doing something adventurous with my life." But just between you and me, our decision did not come about without its share of red flags.

Brendan and I were married less than a year after our first date. We moved in together about two months after deciding we were in love, which was about two weeks after said date. On paper, the whole relationship was ludicrous from day one. And as enamored as we were of one another, the two of us didn't have an abundance of general experience together, let alone travel experience. Vowing to have and hold each other forever *before* living side by side as sweaty backpackers for an entire year was a gamble, and we knew it. But there was something exhilerating about the whole crazy idea from the very start, and it just seemed wild enough to be right.

We boarded that plane to Greece about two months ago now, and it feels like two years ago. I've never seen my wedding pictures. I have no idea what my mom did with my dress. I'm totally out of touch with my bridesmaids, and I think one of them hates me for it. But I truly believe that what Brendan and I have embarked on is absolutely, hands-down, no question, the best way to spend a first year of marriage. That said, it's been no cake walk. If you want to know what it feels like to wake up annoyed, remain annoyed, and fall asleep annoyed while traveling through Siberia with your beloved husband, look no further than this dual-relationship diary which is about to unfold right here before your very eyes. Just don't listen to anything my husband says, because he's out to get me.

-sarah