Let's Talk Crazy

A woman in front of me on the bus is looking at her reflection in the window and mouthing an animated conversation to herself. And frankly, I'm jealous. I enjoy communicating and expressing my ideas verbally (in case you couldn't tell) and that doesn't change when I'm alone. Conversing is one of my favorite past times, so indeed I would enjoy spending my bus trips honing my vocalization skills. However, such an action would inevitably make me subject to the thoughts and judgements which I'm, of course, casting on her: craaaazy.

Now, we're told, "just do what makes you happy as long as you're not hurting others. Who cares what people think?" But crossing the crazy line is a step we don't mess with. Probably because there's little way to step back. Even if we only cross it once, we're still that person who went crazy that time; and that leads to those uncomfortable glances, judgmental glares, and hushed tones we fear the most. It's a really scary place to be. We can't reason our way out of it. I mean, since when was "I'm not crazy" a believable statement? Crazy is the social hole from which we never truly ascend.

Now, I suppose if I really wanted to engage in a self-chat, I could pretend to be on the phone, but to make it believable it's more disruptive and intrusive than the method chosen by my (slightly stinky) fellow rider. Plus, people might figure it out since I'd still likely carry on both sides myself.

So in a fit of jealousy and craving, I've opted for a more socially acceptable way to talk to myself: blog.

USA! USA! USA!

When I was in Guatemala, a Dutch woman asked me and Mike if we were proud to be American.  Mike then went on to explain the problems of that question; that being American is so inextricably linked to who we are--our identity--that a pride or shame about it would inevitably also reflect how we felt about ourselves and therefore, probably not what she really wanted to ask.  I disliked the question for another reason.  I am proud to be an American (because I'm proud of who I am), but I feel that comes with it the need to defend myself against foreigners and US citizens alike who think that means that I must then love everything our nation does.

I've traveled to over thirty countries and roughly as many US states, and I love the United States.  Now, that does not mean that I think it's "the best country in the world" (whatever that means).  It means that I love it.  Kind of like my parents.  I didn't get to choose them, but I am (largely) who I am because of them.  They're my favorite parents in the world--but really only 'cause their mine, not because I have any empirical evidence that they're superior to other parents.  And besides, that has nothing to do with why I love them.  They have traits that make them great parents and great people.  Similarly, the US has traits that make it a great place to live and a great country.

So, being that today is July 4th, I'm going to go on a bit about what I love about the United States and its people.  (Didn't see that one comin', did ya?)

US Americans maintain a reverence for the tenacious farmer, the enterprising business-owner, an infatuation with the intrepid explorer, and the determined immigrant.

We value the outdoors: barbecues, camping, sleds, mountains, lakes, pets...
physicality: baseball, football, basketball, and sportsmanship...
celebrations: parades, awards, roller coasters, bright lights, block parties, pies...
exploring: road trips, RVs, motorcycles...

The natural beauty, as revealed in they very concept of a National Park, is unparalleled not only in its ecological variety but in the nation's unified desire to protect it.

I love that we have no official national language.  We don't force people to learn English, limit its transformation, or guarantee that it will always be spoken by the majority of us.

I love how the diversity of our 300 million people also brings endless varieties of skin colors, food, traditions, rituals, music, dances, and seeming contradictory values.  

We value functionality over aesthetics and love frivolity and escapism.
We cheer for rebels and respect authority.
We stand against injustice and root for the underdog and maintain our global preeminence.
We cherish individualism and isolation and promote hospitality and community.
We resist government involvement and practice volunteerism and philanthropy.

I love that we were founded on principles and "universal truths."  We became a nation through great thought and planning, whether or not we live up to our forefathers' intentions, or even if their intentions were as pure as we like to imagine, those ideals bring great potential.  That's what I love most about our country, not so much what we are, but what we could be.  I can call, visit, and email my legislators, propose legislation, protest, and vote--and I have.  I will continue to question what our country does, how it spends my taxes, and whom it is genuinely helping; and for that ability to devote my life to helping my country be the best it can be, I love the United States of America.  

Camera Curse

Yup, it happened again.  It's now official: I am cursed.  This is the fourth trip from which I've returned without the functioning camera I left with.  (And that's not even counting the time it was stolen in China and recovered by a what-would-likely-be-illegal-in-the-US police search of the thief's car.)  Being stripped of photographic abilities once while traveling in another country is a shame; twice, is a little crazy; three times is ridiculous; and four times, is clearly a curse.

Before I run through a breakdown of the history, I feel it is important to note that each of these four digital cameras have been waterproof up to 10 feet.  Considering how much I love to be in, near, and on the water, it just made sense for me to have a camera that would (purportedly) survive a submerging.

1.) China - Stolen toward the end of my trip from my bag on a sleeper bus while I slept.  (This was shortly after it had been recovered by police.) Full memory cards lost.

(purchased a new camera)

2.) India - Broke while on a rafting ride the second day of my trip.  It filled with water despite being well above the 10' depth limit.  Memory card saved but basically empty anyway.

(replaced for free by manufacturers)

3.) Fiji - Broke when Chuck borrowed it for snorkeling and followed an eel below 10'.  Memory card saved and Mom, Dad, and Chuck were all clicking away on this trip anyway.

(Chuck bought me a new camera)

4.) Guatemala - No f'ing clue what happened.  It just vanished.  I don't see how it could have been stolen, and I don't remember leaving it anywhere (though, I suppose the "not remembering" is the key to "leaving" things).

(I'm now giving up.)

I was taking such great pictures too; not the usual peace sign pose in front of the monuments, but rather the restaurants, meals, and hotels we enjoyed--the elements that make trips unique and lovely.  Ugh.

For full disclosure, there were two trips to the Philippines (one before and one after Fiji) during which my cameras safely returned home.  However, it's time for me to accept that cameras and I are "friends off."

Luckily, I keep journals of my trips, so they're all well-documented; just not in the convenient worth-1000-words-without-having-to-read kind of way.  (Sidenote: my journal was very detailed this past trip--think it has to do with being accustomed to texting or FB-ing my every thought and having left my phone at home.)  I'll stick to writing about my trips and leave the picture-taking to others.  (Mike got some shots that hopefully I'll get soon and post.)

I'm not sure who cursed me or why... Being that I've been using my iPhone to take pictures in Hawaii, I must now be cautious not to refer to it as a camera or take it to other countries.

While my camera situation left me baffled and in denial for a day or two (I actually thought that some nice person seeing the pictures of our hotel would bring it to the front desk), I had an amazing trip.  I loved the people, the sites, the food, the hotels... and hanging out with my best friend whom I haven't seen in two years was pretty cool too.  So Ha Ha, Camera Gods, I'm gonna remember this trip despite your best efforts!  Nikki wins.  Flawless victory.

Better Late Than Never

For a long time now, I've been meaning to give an update of what's been going on in my life.  Unfortunately, as with so many things, the longer one waits on these sorts of tasks, the increasingly daunting they become.  Therefore, I figure the best way is to keep it as short as possible.  So obviously, for me, that means: A LIST!

• I'm still working for Gail at the Hawaii Family Support Institute and Patti at Consuelo Foundation.
• I applied to and was accepted into the UH graduate certificate program for conflict resolution.  I love it.  My last class for it is Community Economic Development, which is fascinating and engaging.
• I've taken Bikram yoga a few times; that's the one in the heated room.  I really like it, but it's expensive, so I take advantage of their 30-day-challenges--I get a discount if I go everyday for 30 days.
• I bought a used (and not so great) car.  It may shortly send me back to the bus.
• I started working with an organization called PHOCUSED.  It's a coalition of health and human service groups advocating for our state's most vulnerable in an effort to give them a much needed voice.  It's keeping me very busy.
• I had a boyfriend (David) for the first few months of the year; it didn't work out, and he moved to the mainland.
• I went back to the Philippines with the Honolulu Rotary club for a few weeks to Baguio.  It felt like a big family reunion.  I wish I could go again this year.
• I've started doing my Shabbat/Unplugged Day again.  That's 24-hours of no phone, TV, or computer starting at 6:30pm on Friday. 
• I'm still thinking about applying to grad schools in the northeast but am no closer to knowing for which program.  Public Policy?
• The biggest news is, of course, that I now have a nephew.  I love him.  I'll not say too much more about him since he has his own blog.   Click here to read it.  It's been so wonderful to have joined Chuck and Krista at the doctors', the infant care class, and now taking care of him.  Becoming an auntie was definitely the best part of last year.

2009 was really great in many ways.  And, after five years being in Hawaii, I'm happy.  After a day at work(s), I look forward to coming home and being with my family.  Weekends spent on the couch watching TV with them don't feel as wasted as they once did.  Maybe that's not the greatest thing, but it sure feels like it is.  It's taken five years, but Hawaii finally feels like home... better late than never.

The Obvious Truth

Upon reading an article about the Great Garbage Patch, a swirling vortex of garbage in the middle of the Pacific, I've become depressed. This plastic soup formed mostly in the last 50 years when plastics became prevalent. We've known about its existence for the past 20 years. It doesn't seem we've been doing a whole lot about it since then. Many scientists agree that the size, consistency, and risk to the living creatures within the vortex prevent clean-up. There are some who disagree and are researching what clean-up will realistically take; but the general consensus: the only thing we can do now is stop it from getting bigger.

So what are we doing in that vein? What major steps are manufacturers, retailers, consumers, and goverments doing? How much longer are we going to continue to just make more and more garbage? When will "disposable" become a curse word? When will we stop making things that will be with us for the next few hundreds or thousands of years?

We do not have the land or water resources to allocate to garbage. We simply have to stop making it. If a product cannot later be reused, recycled, or composted, why is it being made? Why has no one talked about the concept of solid waste elimination? Not reduction--elimination. I concede and understand that such a change could take up to four 4 generations to fully implement (Teldyn will be a great grandad). But why haven't I heard our leaders talking about how to get to that point?

I've heard that 70% of our landfills could be recycled or reused. I don't understand why we aren't doing it. What are we waiting for? Where do we think this crap is going? We know we have no where to put it. We know we're poisoning ourselves, and we keep doing it. I'm at a loss. I'm frustrated and confused. I feel helpless.

Today, on July 20, 2009, 40 years after we first walked on the moon, I wonder how we are dealing with the challenges we now face. Is preserving our planet and life as we know it not enough to inspire us into action? In 1969, scientists collaborated and succeeded in getting us to another world. We were racing towards a bright, new future. Now I fear we're stagnating in swirling garbage. Where is our bright future?

Why Not To Waste Food

Quick note: I'm feeling more like myself than I did when I wrote the "Whatever" post. Thank you to all who asked.

This short (6 min) film is a moving depiction of how the other side lives.

View this movie at cultureunplugged.com

Power of Whatever (indifferent case of logorrhea)

Life-long activist's biggest enemy: apathy. Today, I am the embodiment of that enemy. Fruitless, pointless, lifeless. Not gray or dark, but white. Simple lack. Not negative. Not depressed. Not feeling. Do my homework: fruitless. Reject this life completely and start over: Whatever. Live as a farmer: pointless. Devote life to others Mother Teresa-style: moral masturbation. Seclude myself and become a "monkette": too many rules, goals--too much to reject. Spend life on a beach: boring. Life is what I make of it? Eh. Life is what it is. This.

Not sad, angry, or rejected. I'm the indifferent rejector.

No explanation. No desire to find one or accurately articulate. Amorphous and convoluted: preferable. Words' precision would solidify; thus altering, defining, and shattering. Simple nothingness. No harmony. No peace. No violence. No destruction. Indifferent rejection, simultaneous blanket acceptance. I'm entertained by the backwardness. The opposite-ness to who I am most days. Curious. Interesting. This is the "abnormal" phase. To be overcome. To say "wiser" or "more real" elevates this condition and undoes it.

Sitting in the cushy chair of Starbucks watching passersby thinking they have some place to be or that they're enjoying the day. Aimless. Pointless.

I'm restless, energetic, antsy, passive, directionless. A smile. I'm enjoying my antithetical condition. I know my normal, happy, well-adjusted self would be displeased with my current disposition--in a non-judgemental way, of course.

Whatever. Not trying to rebel or deliberately reject--implies purpose, intent. I'm without.

I'm the anti-Nicole. Nothing pleases. Nothing displeases. Personification of "whatever."

I see bright sunshine, and like the pressed button of a laugh track, I produce a canned response, "the sun's nice." Most days I'd mean it. Today, I'm just glad it's not cloudy. The dreariness would have likely corrupted my non-ness into something gloomy. The sun purifies my apathy.

An observer. Disengaged. Uninvolved.

Should try to snap out of it. Don't care. Kind of like it here. New and different... in it's cliched indifference.

Last night I changed the banner on my phone--a message to see every time I flip open my "communicator"--to something that might spark inspiration or motivation: "why not?" Conversely, today the overwhelming question is "why?"

I search the street for something to engage me. Bright red hair... ! I'll dye my hair, pierce a facial feature, get a tattoo. I'm interested. Piqued. A feeling. Should I? The irony of my "cure" being rebellious, superficial alterations amuses me. Do it to be ironic? No one would get my joke. Who cares if they would. Too much effort. Pointless. I'm over it.

... I'll jump in the Aloha Tower Harbor. I'll walk down the street with no pants. Too much attention. Nothing to rebel against. No statements. No point.

I'm wearing a fuzzy gray Muppet-fur poncho around my neck; it's soft. I like it. Oh, I like something. Over it.

I'm spent. I am aware that my vain attempt to describe my thoughts today has somewhat defiled their purity. Oh well. To any (unfortunate) readers who've happened upon this anomalous entry (read: Mom), please be assured that I'm fine and have probably "recovered" by the time you've finished reading this. (Luckily, my moods are also transient.) I thought the sheer uniqueness of this post added diversity to the normally more poignant blog; thus making it worthy of sharing. However, I am fully aware that it likely came across as nonsensical drivel. And I'm ok with that. Remember? I don't care.

Sensing the Philippines

Yesterday, the plane landed in Manila, and as soon as I stepped off the plane onto the gangway, I felt the Philippines. First were the temperature and the humidity; not too different from Honolulu or Guam (my layover) but still warmer and wetter than both, even though it was now night. Next, was the Filipino time, which is even slower than Hawaii time. Adjusting to it was like booting up a mental patience program to convert my speed (and efficiency) expectations--it didn't take long, but it wasn't immediate. And I think my legs always run on New York time, especially after having been cramped on a plane. Quick quick stop. Quick quick quick stop. My mode became "hurry up and wait."

Stepping outside the airport I was met with the smell of the Philippines; it's not sweet or pungent, just familiar; and therefore, good. Waiting for my ride (patience program start-up at 95%), I see the bustling busyness, characteristic of the developing Asian world. I wasn't standing, taking it in long before I was met by the huge, welcoming smiles of the drivers from Consuelo Foundation, treating me like a returning family member, there to "fetch" me and bring me to the Honolulu Rotary's hotel. Next file start-up for mental adjustment: be ok with being fussed over. (Clarification: I am traveling with Honolulu Rotary, and we're volunteering for Child and Family Service; both organizations share key personnel with Consuelo Foundation and all work closely together. Therefore, we get extra special treatment whether we're in Manila or Baguio. As Patti Lyons' assistant, I probably get even more.)

The drive to the hotel was filled with car horns and familiar sights: Jollibee (a Filipino fast food chain), signs for videoke (karaoke, a Filipino favorite--we have this in common), jeepneys (long, silver 15-passenger jeeps for public transportation), and the legacy of the American military presence: Filipino fashion--t-shirts (often with random phrases like "Nebraska Tennis") and jeans or shorts.

At the hotel, more fussing, and I checked into my room, which I was sharing with Robyn, the trip's videographer. We fell asleep to another of the US's great legacies: television--specifically, NBC's "Chuck" and "Knight Rider." MTV here has the song's lyrics scrolling on the bottom of the screen--brilliant! Gotta be able to sing along, right? This country gets me.

I've come to love the intial disorientation that comes with waking up in a very different place. The longer it takes me to figure out where I am, the more different and exciting of a place I'm likely in. It feels good to be traveling again. There's a familiar feeling to having my surroundings be somewhat... well, unfamiliar. It's a feeling of newness, adventure, and slight discomfort, which I find... yes, comforting. While I really enjoy those feelings, I don't crave them like I used to. I have, so far, not re-caught the travel bug. I imagine that spending so much time in places that feel more like home, this won't be the trip to re-ignite that passion in me.

I love being back here. It's hard to stop smiling, which is fun because Filipinos are great at returning the gesture as I was reminded while gazing out the window during the 10-hour bus trip up to Baguio.

Tomorrow we'll all be treated to a presentation from the girls of the Consuelo Home--my girls. I can't wait to see them. Danny (CEO of Child and Family Service, my old supervisor, and VP of Consuelo Foundation Philippines) says that about half of the girls are the same from last year. It's hard to be completely happy since ultimately, we want to see them move out of the shelter, but at the same time, I'm thrilled to see them again and hear them call me Ate Nicole (prounounced ah-tay Nee-cohl, and meaning sister Nicole).

Sorry about the lack of pictures. I'll work on that. For now, I'm going to sleep.

Old Reflections

The other day, when talking with my friend from high school, we thought about what our former selves would think of the people we are today. While our conversation didn't last long, the thought lingered.

I began thinking about the old (younger) Nicole: when people would ask what I wanted to do with my life, I'd answer proudly "save the world." Each moment was an opportunity to teach and affect change: "don't use the word 'gay' like that, it's offensive," or "but what of the impacts on society or the environment?" I left no incendiary statement unchallenged or unsupported. "Opinionated" was a compliment; and I fully earned the names Debbie Downer and Brodie Buzzkill. My enemies were apathy, ignorance and complacency, and the people (especially the women) who stayed silent because they didn't want to offend or, worse, because they genuinely didn't care, frustrated and saddened me to no end.

Today, the shoulder chip has shrunk, and I feel less compelled to prove how unique and thoughtful I am. I've learned that most people don't like to be preached to (including myself); putting people on the defensive only makes them cling tighter to their beliefs; and I've discovered the pointless waste of engaging people who say things simply to get a reaction, looking to provoke an argument rather than an intelligent exchange. Prejudice, apathy, and ignorance are still my enemies, but I prefer to combat them by living my life in a way that is consistent with my beliefs and hope that it may inspire others along the way.

While these are perhaps signs of growth, my former self would likely be disappointed in me--these are excuses for why I've given up the fight... I've been beaten by exhaustion and effectively silenced... one of those sad, cynical progressive do-nothings who tell young idealists, "I used to be like you."--And maybe in a way, she'd be right.

Is there more to my silence than simple maturity? It's true that I do find myself avoiding political discussions that I used to seek out. While some friends still lovingly call me Brodie Buzzkill, with people I don't know, have I turned into a boring pussy-footer who doesn't talk religion and politics in order to maintain polite conversation?

Having deeper philosophical exchanges with people is still a large part of who I am, but it no longer defines me. Once people get to know me, they'll inevitably discover my politically passionate side, and I'm ok waiting.

A concession I will make to my former self: there is a chance that "opinionated" has given way to "quiet" not only because of patience but perhaps because of a newly acknowledged level of ineptitude in communicating my views without coming across as aggressive or abrasive. Maturity has shown me that this is not how I want to present myself, but it has yet to effectively govern my passions.

This conversation with my younger self has made me see (that I may want to seek professional mental help, ) that I should learn how to better communicate, and that I should've been more forgiving to the aforementioned "do-nothing progressives" who remained quiet. Hopefully, the next time she and I talk, I'll have grown more--and I won't need to take lessons from some obnoxious, opinionated 22-year old.

Fijian Lemonade

In a few ways, my family trip to Fiji had a theme that could be summed up by the phrase: when life gives you lemons, make lemonade.

Lemon: On the last family trip with Mom, Dad, Chuck, and Krista (to Alaska), I felt like the rotating third wheel, so this time I invited a friend to balance the group; but my friend didn't come, and I was on my own again.
Lemonade: I had a cabin room all to myself, and I spent more time with the crew and other passengers than I would have, making a bunch of new international friends.

Lemon: My mom changed the type of cruise to a more expensive cultural/historical trip that runs only four times a year. This new price made things harder for my friend to join us.
Lemonade: We visited schools, villages and areas rarely seen by tourists and were treated to traditional shows by Micronesian and Polynesian tribes as well as the expected Melanesians of Fiji; a much more special experience than a normal beach-hopping trip.

Lemon: Our tour bus's tire needed to be changed.
Lemonade: A good excuse to stop and visit the local markets and shops.
Lemon: After we were underway, that same tire spat off all of its nuts which a passenger noticed just in time before the tire came off the moving bus.
Lemonade: We all got off and enjoyed our cruise-provided morning tea of fresh fruit and finger sandwiches on the shaded side of the road overlooking the sea until a new bus arrived.

Lemon: I had a dramatic spill on slippery rocks near a cascading waterfall and badly sprained my ankle forcing me to limp on a cane for four days.
Lemonade stand: Large, well-muscled crew members supported and carried me on their arms and backs; I experienced local Fijian medicine first-hand; and a crew member picked and guided the hermit crab representing my cabin in the ship's crab race and won me a bottle of champagne.

Lemon: My underwater digital camera broke (again). This is the third time I've found myself mid-trip without a camera.
Lemonade: I'm now used to this occurrence and nearly expected it to happen. Now I have less to carry and worry about as I gave Chuck the (paper-weight) camera and charger to bring back to Hawaii. Fortunately, the memory card wasn't damaged, and we have some great underwater shots.

I really don't expect sympathy or praise; after all, how hard is it to make the best of a Fijian cruise with my family? I had a fabulous time, and honestly, the "lemonade" tasted more like champagne.

(Next stop: National Parks of the Southwest including Yosemite, Sequoia, Brice, Joshua Tree, Grand Canyon)

A Turning Point

There are a few new habits that I've taken back with me from my trip: eating with a fork and spoon, saying "joke lang" after one of my deadpan deliveries, singing no matter who's around, and hopefully the most permanent will be the way I see the world.
Previously, when I spoke of visiting a country, it was about exploring its natural beauty. I traveled as if going through a museum, and the people I met there were part of the exhibit--members of a collective culture. I was guarded and suspicious of those who'd stare, smile at, or approach me (almost everyone when I'm one of the only white people around). I assumed they wanted to take advantage of me as a "rich" foreigner or as a woman, and I would respond with one word answers and quick glances. But having lived in a country where a simple wave or smile causes most people to light up, my perspective's changed; like a camera lens adjusting, the mountains are now the backdrop to my new focus: the people.
The Filipino openness was contagious. They just wanted to help, and by simply smiling at them, traveling became more fun and easy. The nicer I was to them, the more helpful they were to me. This hardly sounds like the stuff of grand epiphanies, but I didn't get it before. Now, traveling isn't about protecting myself; it's about connecting. Of course, I will still be cautious, but it will no longer block me from really seeing the world.
I don't expect that all countries' people will be as friendly and genuine as Filipinos, but at least I'll give myself the chance to find out. A nervous energy that used to propel me through foreign countries and out of my comfort zone has given way to a relaxed anticipation.
My time in the Philippines was invaluable in countless ways... but I feel this change is going to make the biggest difference in how I live my life.
While I don't want to get all Academy Awards, I do feel compelled to extend a special salamat-po to Danny Urquico, Becky Wells, Patti Lyons, Liza Benter, and all my friends in the Philippines for everything you've taught me. I look forward to our next meeting and hope it's soon.

Paalam (goodbye)

This trip has been the most rewarding of my life: invaluable experiences, genuine, random interactions with locals, and great new friends. While I won’t be leaving the Philippines until April, the goodbyes are fast approaching.

There used to be more tears, but now goodbyes are a familiar scene for me. I travel, I move, I have friends in the military… these conditions have meant at least one permanent separation from a very close friend every year since I graduated from college in 2003. Sounds confusing, but point is: I've gotten good at this. That’s not counting all the many see-you-laters before my trips or the until-next-times after friendly visits. The last looks at airports, bus stops, train stations—I got used to them. And my friends’ similar lifestyles coupled with the communication technologies of cell phones and internet meant fewer tears all around.

This Baguio goodbye will be a little harder. I’ve made the usual “foreigner friends,” whom, large thanks to Facebook, will be easy to keep in touch with and hopefully meet somewhere and some-when again. But I’ve also become friends with Filipinos who don’t move or travel a lot. This allows for one reunion possibility: I come back… which is not unlikely, just uncertain.

And of course, the goodbye to the girls will be the biggest challenge to my farewell expertise. For three months we shared a house, our meals, our thoughts, our feelings—we’re “ates.” I love them very much, and they’ve made their mutual affections for me obvious. And in this shaky situation, I’ve lost my communication-age crutches: many of them don’t have email, or phones, or Facebook, and snail mail letters will be strained by language and changing addresses. I’m not sure I’ll be able to find them when I return if they’ve moved on to new homes, as is the ultimate goal of the program. So here I am facing my most loving (read: giving) connection to see it become the most severed. So as in the days before farewells were routine, I feel a lump in my throat and water filling my eyes. This one’s gonna be tough.

The Current Plan (explore the Philippines):
Mar. 17 – Sagada, Batod, Banaue (northern Luzon) with other foreign volunteer friends
Mar. 23 – San Carlos (Negros, Visayas) with the Honolulu Rotary club to help build a training center
Mar. 29 – Boracay (Panay, Visayas) with Aussie friend Becky to party as if it were my birthday… hey, wait…
Apr. 4 – Return to Honolulu, HI at 7:30PM, magically arriving a few hours before my departure from Manila. Silly international dateline.

Gratitude

There are few things as astonishing and humbling as the generosity of the poor. Last weekend, I went to rural parts of Naguilian with the Healthy Start program to deliver more formula to underweight babies. The subsistance lifestyle is increasingly difficult as more people move to the cities causing the farming communities to shrink. We met one woman with six children who makes 45 pesos a week--just over one dollar. Before we left from delivering the formula, she insisted that we take a full bag of sweet potatoes and another full bag of green beans. After visiting a half-dozen more families, we had enough fresh, organic vegetables to open a produce stand. It was a little difficult to take food from people who had so little, but it meant so much to them that they could thank us for coming out there that it would have been impossible to refuse.
Foreign volunteers in general sometimes face accusations of pity, superiority, imperialism, ignorant meddling, and declarations of "we can handle our own problems." These sentiments are not entirely unjustified, and therefore, difficult to refute. But all the foreign volunteers I've met here in Baguio have recieved nothing but sincere thanks and praise from Filipinos: "it's great there are people like you," "thank you for what you do," "you have such big hearts"... Obviously, this response makes the whole experience even more rewarding.

Thinking back, it's highly appropriate that the first word I learned (and used) in Tagalog was salamat. It means thank you.

Seriously? Buffy??

As many of you know, I have recently gotten hooked on the TV series Buffy the Vampire Slayer; and having once shared the preconceived notions that are likely causing you to furrow your brow from confusion or even concern, I feel I should attempt to explain.

It should be noted, that I started watching the series on DVD. The TV medium, designed to keep us interested until our next weekly fix, can easily foster an obsession when supplied in concentrated doses. At least NetFlix has forced a two-day lull between disks.

Buffy is generally a hard show to talk about without sounding crazy. I inevitably end up using words like demon, vampire, werewolf, witch, dimensions... and their weirder contexts: "he's a vampire with a soul;" "yeah, her boyfriend's a werewolf, but it's only once a month, and they work through it;" or "she was a mystical ball of energy that the monks hid from the evil goddess by turning it into a human.” They don’t make it easy for fans to maintain credibility, but I’ll give it a shot.

While I did find the Buffy movie entertaining in that early-90's-cheese-fest kind of way, it’s important to know that the show is vastly different and better. The film was the source of most of my prejudices, but I eventually, at Krista’s suggestion, watched the first disk (4 episodes), partly expecting to be gathering evidence for my pre-judgments.

I can't say I loved it immediately, but I was surprised. The dialogue was quick and witty; the humor was corny and sarcastic; and the characters, endearingly nerdy—it was made for me. And Buffy, the teenager with super-strength and the destiny to defeat the forces of darkness… frankly, she’s one of the best heroes I know. She lives a life without secret hideouts or alter egos; a normal life with normal problems (not counting the “crazy” stuff, of course). She’s not dark and brooding (Batman, Wolverine), or saintly (Superman), or hopped up on her super-ness (Spiderman). She accepts her responsibility, struggling with it, but always managing to do the right thing even when it is unbearably painful.

Buffy’s greatest strength, the show’s and the girl’s, is the relationships and friendships. The monsters-of-the-week provide action scenes and unique conflicts, but the more familiar drama is why we keep watching.

It’s simply well-written with great characters and engaging stories. Joss Whedon the creator of the show has said, "I'd rather create a show that 100 people need to watch than 1000 people like to watch." This is why not everyone is going to like Buffy and why I tend not to recommend it; but it seems as though I’m one of those 100.

And yes, I am aware that I have now officially blogged about Buffy thus furthering my descent into the nerdy obsessed fan realm, but I hope this has provided an explanation for my new addiction... or at least more substantiated fuel for your Nicole-mocking fires.

Final Thoughts on India/Europe Trip

I'm back in Hawaii now, so I finally have time to reflect on my trips and come up with a summation of it all. The India and Europe trips so starkly contrasted one another that it would be senseless to talk about them as one--so I won't.

India was slower-paced, but while it should have been more demanding with high altitude hikes and very basic living conditions, I found it soothing and spiritual. We were quite active but allowed for plenty of time to absorb, relax, reflect. Joel and I were constantly engaging in political, psychological, or philosophical discussions; I completed four books; and having to "rough it" meant fewer distractions from both my external and internal environments. Cerebral exercise.

The landscapes we explored were like none I've ever confronted. While Alaska's peaks and glaciers were impressive, to say the least, I was not hiking and sleeping among them. There were multiple times when the sheer grandeur and spectacle of the Indian scene overwhelmed me, and my chest ached.

Other parts of India greatly tried my patience and tolerance. It was difficult being so obviously foreign and to the locals, so obviously rich. But Joel and I met great people along the way, from India and elsewhere, like France, Spain, Israel, Tibet, Australia, Poland, Canada--not so many Americans go to India.

I have little doubt that I will find myself in India again. Hopefully, next time I will be there in winter, so I can make it down south without melting in the 100+ degree heat; but if I do find myself there again in summer, there’s plenty more of the north I’d love to explore.

(Culture Shock? Interestingly, the most uncomfortable and out of place I've felt on any trip was in Heathrow Airport (outside London) after India.)

Europe was a whirlwind of cities and sites. (I’m really glad I kept a journal to help me remember what we did where.) We stayed just long enough in each city to realize that we weren't staying long enough: "This place is interesting; let's go." It was great to see so much, but I think I prefer taking it slower.

It was confounding to visit Auschwitz, the old Jewish ghetto of Budapest, and then Berlin; seeing the geographical source of the death and torture--while destruction normally upsets me--it was hard to feel bad that most of Berlin (a city hundreds of years old) was built only in the last 20 years. However, it was inspiring to see Berlin, having been through so much with the Nazis and Communists, was now thriving and doing so with full acknowledgment of their past (i.e., remnants of the Berlin wall, museum for the euthanized handicapped, tomb of the unknown concentration camp victim, memorial for the Jews).

My mother's generosity in paying for most of my Europe expenses (it was up to me to get there) allowed me to enjoy that part of the world, but I expect that for the next few years my trips will remain mostly in the southern hemisphere where I can afford to stay longer. I don't know where my next trip will be, but I look forward to it.

How India and Europe got crammed into 6 weeks...

Short answer:
Joel asked me to go with him to India; then Mom asked me to go with her to Europe. I said yes to both. Living in Hawaii, as far as I'm concerned, India and Europe might as well border.

Long answer:
Last year I was talking with Joel about my upcoming China trip and he suggested that he and I go to India together at some point. While we had no specific plans, I know that (especially when it comes to traveling) if I say I'm going to do something, I do it.

A few months ago, Joel brought up India again, but now in the context of "do you want to go this summer?" ...So it was soon time to look for flights.

My mother has caught the travel bug something feirce recently (the impending retirement and all) and asked me if I wanted to go on a trip with her to Eastern Europe this summer. My only hesitation in accepting this was the potential for conflicting dates, but a week separated the two, so voila!

Mom invited the rest of the Brodie clan but only Krista was able to go. So it'll be the Brodie women.

I'm spending just over three weeks in India and two weeks in Europe. I don't know what either itinerary is going to look like yet. I do know that Joel has mentioned the Himalayas and Mom wants to go to Italy to see family--yes yes, I know that that doesn't qualify as Eastern Europe.

I've also learned that Joel and I are venturing to India at the absolute worst time of year to go: monsoon season. When it's not overbearingly hot, it will be pouring; but it's not like that's stopping us. "Oh no, I'll just wait for the next India trip to come along and hope it will be during a nicer season." Yeah, right.

So I'm hoping to see as many friends as possible while I make my usual East Coast pit stop. Ideally, I'd love to hang out for longer than what appears to be a speed-dating stint.

Yup... Shabbat

This past August I decided to start (sort of) practicing Shabbat, the Jewish day of rest or Sabbath. I don't watch TV, use computers or phones from sundown on Friday to sundown on Saturday. While based on the Jewish tradition (trust me, Orthodox Jews do much more than I do), my decision to do this is not about God but about me. The more time I spent with people who kept Shabbat and the more I learned about it, the more sense it made. They explain it as a day to forget about everything that's urgent and focus on what's important: friends, family, themselves, spirituality... For me, it's also one day a week where I give up the distractions of my electronic addictions. When I'm not sitting around watching TV or chatting online, I do more with my friends and family here in Hawaii: play games, go surf, or just talk. My weekends have become more relaxing and rejuvenating since I now read and nap more. I even find that I'll work harder other days knowing that I have Shabbat to look forward to. So while, at first, it may seem archaic and bizarre, it's been a great way to regain some focus and has been freeing rather than restrictive.

Hopefully this makes my whole "ritual" seem less weird. If not, I'd love to answer any questions... and if that doesn't work, I'll just remain your weird Jew-ish friend. That's cool too. :)

A Hawaiian Christmas

For many people, the winter holiday season is often highlighted by cozy sweaters, warm fires, and steamy drinks, but in Hawaii, where winter is defined by big waves and whales spouts, the holidays are done a little differently.
For starters, there's a phrase which some people use that's entirely unique to these islands. Since the Hawaiian alphabet, consisting of seven consonants and five vowels, does not contain the letters r, y, c, s, or t, the way they say Merry Christmas is Mele Kalikimaka. There's even a carol for it.
Also, lights are a really big thing here. The city of Honolulu, private homes-- everything is covered in tiny flashing bulbs. I think the mentality is "if there isn't going to be snow, there'll at least be lights;" so even though you're wearing shorts, you still know what time of year it is.
The most popular Christmas song is probably the Beach Boys' "Christmas Comes This Time Each Year," and the meaning of "White Christmas" for us in Hawaii is more as a descriptor of the foamy water created by the colossal surf.
Then there's the typical ways that people in Hawaii like to celebrate all holidays: family camp-outs, barbecues, and fireworks. Whenever there's time off from work, that means it's time to gather all your uncles and aunties and pitch some tents on the beach; it's not chestnuts, but rather, hot dogs and burgers that we smell roasting on open fires; and come New Year's, the smoke from all the fireworks is so thick that it can make driving hazardous, and public service announcements suggest closing the glass windows of children's bedrooms (which is probably the only time they're closed). In other words, people really like their fireworks.
So even though we are wearing bathing suits and toting surf boards, it does not mean the holiday sentiment was lost somewhere in the Pacific.
Aloha, Mele Kalikimaka, Happy Hanukkah and best wishes for the New Year.

Some Closing Thoughts

Our time in China is ended--It's official that Kris is staying for the second half (being that his flight out of China was originally scheduled for November 8th)--and I'm a little sad to leave China.

In general, the people were modest as individuals but proud as a nation. There's a clear openness with each other and with us. Even if they were surprised or unsure of us at first, the hesitancy often melted away with a smile. We have not felt unsafe here (even though we were robbed), and while we know that people have been taking advantage of our Westerness by over-charging us, we didn't get the sense that it was out of disrespect or malice. People were as eager to answer our questions as they were to ask them; and we all got good laughs from our strained attempts to communicate.

Getting around was always an adventure: dodging persistent taxi drivers, finding the right bus, climbing into our too-short beds, searching for a cheap hotel, making sure we got off at the right stop, and being thankful that we were never as sick as some of the other (Chinese) passengers. The food became a little monotonous only because Kris and I had difficulty asking for anything besides rice and noodles, but we ate well.

The unique combination of ancient and modern fascinated us. There are televisions everywhere and Chinese pop blaring in the streets while people still carry things around in baskets and on bamboo poles balanced on their shoulders because, as I said earlier, if it ain't broke, don't fix it. The practical, straight-forward ways of doing things work, and I'll miss them.

The signs of China's new Capitalist identity were everywhere; so too were their efforts to establish themselves as a benevolent international power with their record-breaking aid to Africa as well as their incessant preparations for the 2008 Olympic Games to be held in Beijing. We found ourselves in China while its searches for its new identity and grapples with the terms of global Capitalism and Chinese Communism. It was clear that we were seeing China at a significant transformational time in its history.

In a few ways this marks a beginning more than an end: we hope to keep in touch with some of the people we met along the way; Kris is planning on coming back in a few months to study Kung Fu with a monk; and I'm now contemplating studying Mandarin out of a linguistic fascination as well as to make me more desirable in an increasingly competitive job market.

I have no doubt that I will love the second half of my trip, but after living in China for the past month, there's a part of me that will miss it.