Sunday, March 22, 2009
Thursday, October 21, 2004
Goodbye sweetheart, goodbye.
I sent S. and K. care packages today. I hope it gets to them in the orphanage. I packed little photo albums of pictures from camp, and framed one for each of them. I also added little stuffed lions - for them to be brave and strong through their HIV. I gave S. my watch, since he loved it so much with its indiglo backlight, and I gave K. a copy of James and the Giant Peach - the book I was reading them as a bedtime story at camp. It gave me a bit of closure as I sent the gifts off at the post office. I feel better that they'll have a little something of camp to have. And at the same time - I feel awfully mom-like, which is terrifying.
I thought it'd be appropriate to end my journey and travelog with a video clip from the beginning of my journey.
Kids at lunch
Originally uploaded by nantron
I thought it'd be appropriate to end my journey and travelog with a video clip from the beginning of my journey.
Kids at lunch
Originally uploaded by nantron
Tuesday, October 19, 2004
I'm getting the feeling that I will need a holiday once every two years or so just to keep myself going. A good holiday. For a month. I will choose my countries based on whether the exchange rate is in my favor. And I will go alone.
It's been about 24 hours since I've been home. The jet lag surprisingly hasn't hit me that hard yet. I've been going to bed at normal hours (circa 10 pm, 4 am african time) and waking up early (6 am, 12 pm african time). The hardest part has been reconciling Nancy now with Nancy then.
I've been wearing the same 6 shirts for the past month, and now my closet suddenly seems preposterously ridiculous.
I bought this cheap little 7 dollar blue rubber watch for the trip. It was convenient because I could swim with it and take it into the shower. I didn't realize it would make me an idol among the campers, who were fascinated by the blue backlight at night. When I returned home, I saw my regular seiko watch and diamond ring sitting on my dresser where I'd left them. I put them back on, and my hand looked so foreign to me that I took them back off again. They're still sitting on my dresser and the blue rubber watch is back on my wrist.
Not just that, but my collection of high heeled pumps and winter boots looked bizarre as well. As if they belonged to a different world. Did I really used to derive joy from these things? Was it only because there was so little to derive joy from in my former life?
After all, being in Africa was the happiest I've been in years. Travelling, freewheeling, AND male attention (somewhat unwanted) - even despite my baby mullet due to 5 weeks of unchecked hair growth. What more could a girl ask for? I'm generally miserable when I'm in the States. Not that it's all -that- bad. Misery makes great fodder for sarcasm and jokes. But its hard to fill that void when you live in a culture of materialism. So you fill it with the only thing available to you - materials. To think, buying a new shirt used to make me happy. Why? Because it would make me feel prettier. Jesus, who cares.
Am I a changed person? I hesitate to make such a leap. Perhaps I am for the short-term, but the long-term remains to be seen. After all, it's hard to fill that void that used to have 10 year old African boys who scream "MAMMY!" and then cling to your waist. You know, the ones who cry in their sleep on the last night of camp and then crawl in to sleep on you, patting your face sleepily and mumbling "Me love you." I don't know what's going to fill that void now. I do know that I used to cram it with other things. I do know that when I was corporate, the void became so yawning and gaping that no amount of alcohol or pretty clothes could fill it. I'm waiting to see.
I start my new job on Monday.
It's been about 24 hours since I've been home. The jet lag surprisingly hasn't hit me that hard yet. I've been going to bed at normal hours (circa 10 pm, 4 am african time) and waking up early (6 am, 12 pm african time). The hardest part has been reconciling Nancy now with Nancy then.
I've been wearing the same 6 shirts for the past month, and now my closet suddenly seems preposterously ridiculous.
I bought this cheap little 7 dollar blue rubber watch for the trip. It was convenient because I could swim with it and take it into the shower. I didn't realize it would make me an idol among the campers, who were fascinated by the blue backlight at night. When I returned home, I saw my regular seiko watch and diamond ring sitting on my dresser where I'd left them. I put them back on, and my hand looked so foreign to me that I took them back off again. They're still sitting on my dresser and the blue rubber watch is back on my wrist.
Not just that, but my collection of high heeled pumps and winter boots looked bizarre as well. As if they belonged to a different world. Did I really used to derive joy from these things? Was it only because there was so little to derive joy from in my former life?
After all, being in Africa was the happiest I've been in years. Travelling, freewheeling, AND male attention (somewhat unwanted) - even despite my baby mullet due to 5 weeks of unchecked hair growth. What more could a girl ask for? I'm generally miserable when I'm in the States. Not that it's all -that- bad. Misery makes great fodder for sarcasm and jokes. But its hard to fill that void when you live in a culture of materialism. So you fill it with the only thing available to you - materials. To think, buying a new shirt used to make me happy. Why? Because it would make me feel prettier. Jesus, who cares.
Am I a changed person? I hesitate to make such a leap. Perhaps I am for the short-term, but the long-term remains to be seen. After all, it's hard to fill that void that used to have 10 year old African boys who scream "MAMMY!" and then cling to your waist. You know, the ones who cry in their sleep on the last night of camp and then crawl in to sleep on you, patting your face sleepily and mumbling "Me love you." I don't know what's going to fill that void now. I do know that I used to cram it with other things. I do know that when I was corporate, the void became so yawning and gaping that no amount of alcohol or pretty clothes could fill it. I'm waiting to see.
I start my new job on Monday.
Monday, October 18, 2004
Post-trip one-offs.
*Though I didn't see where the workout was when I was learning how to surf (it deceivingly feels like you're doing nothing), I definitely felt it in my shoulders and arms the next day. And the day after. And that day after that.
*I don't know what possesses people to bring small children onto long international flights. Or on holiday at all for that matter. Despite my resolution to travel somewhere every two years, I think I will have to give up any notions of a real holiday for at least 10-15 years when I have children. I hope I'm still interesting then, especially as children have an inconvenient habit of swallowing up all remnants of who you are, leaving behind a frazzled outline of a soccer mom.
*Africa is an interesting study in contrasts. Though maleness is so obvious here, its juxtaposed by a widespread affinity for hobbies that would be considered un-masculine in the Western world. Like poetry. Almost everyone here is a poet, and a pretty decent one at that. Does poetry, like rhythm and dance, just run in the blood here? Rap artists are predominantly black, and a surprisingly large percentage of the camp counselors wrote good poetry. One of them actually stopped writing poetry because it made him cry. Or is it just because they live in harsher conditions and thus have more to write about? After all, middle class suburbia isn't exactly good material. Hardly stirring.
*Why is it that flights returning are so much more bearable than flights going?
*30 minutes to landing. I tried hard to stay awake in order to combat jet lag, but failed miserably.
*I don't know what possesses people to bring small children onto long international flights. Or on holiday at all for that matter. Despite my resolution to travel somewhere every two years, I think I will have to give up any notions of a real holiday for at least 10-15 years when I have children. I hope I'm still interesting then, especially as children have an inconvenient habit of swallowing up all remnants of who you are, leaving behind a frazzled outline of a soccer mom.
*Africa is an interesting study in contrasts. Though maleness is so obvious here, its juxtaposed by a widespread affinity for hobbies that would be considered un-masculine in the Western world. Like poetry. Almost everyone here is a poet, and a pretty decent one at that. Does poetry, like rhythm and dance, just run in the blood here? Rap artists are predominantly black, and a surprisingly large percentage of the camp counselors wrote good poetry. One of them actually stopped writing poetry because it made him cry. Or is it just because they live in harsher conditions and thus have more to write about? After all, middle class suburbia isn't exactly good material. Hardly stirring.
*Why is it that flights returning are so much more bearable than flights going?
*30 minutes to landing. I tried hard to stay awake in order to combat jet lag, but failed miserably.
Sunday, October 17, 2004
Finito.
So my holiday is officially ended. I've spent the past 6 hours sitting in London's Heathrow airport waiting for my connecting flight back to the U.S. I met a young German cultural anthropologist named Sven on the plane who told me of the ins and outs of the Indian community that is growing in South Africa.
It's funny how quickly one slides back to Western ways. I've only left Africa for half a day and I already find myself looking around and wondering why no one is smiling at each other. I miss the friendly backpacking ways and all the excitement of life on the road. I miss the spirit of travelling. And I don't mean tourist-ing or business commuting, but truly travelling. The spirit that pervades you with its lifestyle and wraps you swinging into it, swaddled and rocked while you giggle. Already, the memory of Africa is fading fast. Even my souvenirs, that I coveted 24 hours ago like I would've coveted a new pair of shoes in my former life, seem foreign to me. All my efforts to grasp the feeling of travelling Africa are flouted as it slips through my fingers. It just feels so far away already within the context of Heathrow airport. And yet somehow, I feel as if I've been made whole by the experience. That any damage or bitterness remaining from my corporate days has been wiped away. Somehow, travelling Africa has made me more confident.
And despite my instinctive inclination to, I will not mourn Africa when I get home. I will not mope and shut myself in my room to steep in the memories, hoping to cling on to the vestiges. Because it's a part of me, and I will celebrate it. I will be joyous when I return home because my parents, who love me so much and allowed me to go despite their worries, deserve no less. And because I did miss them dearly.
I've come to terms with a few things on my trip. That you don't have to be beautiful as long as people believe you are. I learned that perhaps my nerdy high school days are over, despite my proclivity to cling to them. I can be generally well-liked by the public, and am not just a "niche" interest as I had previously assumed. Like a Star Trek fetish. I learned that 10 year old S. African boys know entirely too much about sex, and that the Queen of England should not use her famous wave in Soweto. I learned how to say "Sho sho!" like the locals and "Brilliant!" like the Brits. I learned how to take a compliment gracefully. I suppose what this trip has ultimately done is restore my faith in the world. That there really are beautiful things out there worth trying for. That I -can- make a difference in this world seemingly dominated by materialism and money. And that not everyone is out to get you. This trip has cured me, however temporarily and hopefully permanently, of the jadedness that permeates my peers. It makes me look at the world with bright eyes again and believe that I really have a future that will be great and exciting. That maybe I really can be someone. And not just think it or say it aloud to friends to convince myself, but truly believe it.
It's funny how quickly one slides back to Western ways. I've only left Africa for half a day and I already find myself looking around and wondering why no one is smiling at each other. I miss the friendly backpacking ways and all the excitement of life on the road. I miss the spirit of travelling. And I don't mean tourist-ing or business commuting, but truly travelling. The spirit that pervades you with its lifestyle and wraps you swinging into it, swaddled and rocked while you giggle. Already, the memory of Africa is fading fast. Even my souvenirs, that I coveted 24 hours ago like I would've coveted a new pair of shoes in my former life, seem foreign to me. All my efforts to grasp the feeling of travelling Africa are flouted as it slips through my fingers. It just feels so far away already within the context of Heathrow airport. And yet somehow, I feel as if I've been made whole by the experience. That any damage or bitterness remaining from my corporate days has been wiped away. Somehow, travelling Africa has made me more confident.
And despite my instinctive inclination to, I will not mourn Africa when I get home. I will not mope and shut myself in my room to steep in the memories, hoping to cling on to the vestiges. Because it's a part of me, and I will celebrate it. I will be joyous when I return home because my parents, who love me so much and allowed me to go despite their worries, deserve no less. And because I did miss them dearly.
I've come to terms with a few things on my trip. That you don't have to be beautiful as long as people believe you are. I learned that perhaps my nerdy high school days are over, despite my proclivity to cling to them. I can be generally well-liked by the public, and am not just a "niche" interest as I had previously assumed. Like a Star Trek fetish. I learned that 10 year old S. African boys know entirely too much about sex, and that the Queen of England should not use her famous wave in Soweto. I learned how to say "Sho sho!" like the locals and "Brilliant!" like the Brits. I learned how to take a compliment gracefully. I suppose what this trip has ultimately done is restore my faith in the world. That there really are beautiful things out there worth trying for. That I -can- make a difference in this world seemingly dominated by materialism and money. And that not everyone is out to get you. This trip has cured me, however temporarily and hopefully permanently, of the jadedness that permeates my peers. It makes me look at the world with bright eyes again and believe that I really have a future that will be great and exciting. That maybe I really can be someone. And not just think it or say it aloud to friends to convince myself, but truly believe it.
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