all jazzed up

i'm giddy. not sure if it's the coffee, the anticipation, or both. but my excitement for my roman holiday has me wanting to jump and twirl, neither of which are possible given that i am on the inside window seat of my row. the fact that we flew over the grand canyon and rockies on what is an absolutely clear, beautiful day is redeeming this otherwise imprisonment. actually, i want to run, not jump and dance. reading my Rome tour guide book has me so eager to get to this beautiful city and just run: past the colosseum, past the trajan column, past the pantheon, past the spanish steps, past the trevi fountain and along the snaking tiber river. besides the anticipation of seeing all these amazingly beautiful and historic sites, what has me MORE excited is the proximity of our apartment to them. we are in the heart of it all! my mom has always been a phenomenal travel planner and based on the photos of our two bedroom apartment with a balcony and its great location, i have high expectations (rut roh...). what's funny is that i have never wanted to go to rome before--even when i studied abroad in northern italy! at the time i was living and studying in vicenza, the hometown of renown Renaissance architect Palladio, and my architecture studies took me daily to Verona, Venice, Ravenna... moving and studying so much that, come weekends my friends and i wanted to relax. so every weekend we took the train away from man-made beauties and to nature's beauties: into the Dolomites and to Lake Guarda. Rome to me sounded hot, crowded, and too educational. now, almost ten years later, i am ready. but not for the heat or crowds (those, gratefully, and hopefully) have dissipated with the onset of Fall. i am ready for the sites, sounds, smells and feel of cobblestone under my feet and cool, creamy gelato at my lips. oh i can't wait!

my parents arrive tomorrow, ending their Adriadic cruise in Rome, and will stay for five days prior to flying home. i, on the other hand, will stay on in our cute apartment (that i have yet to see, but in my mind's eye it is adorable) for three days longer, using one of the days to visit mount Vesuvius and Pompeii. part of my excitement may be my eagerness for change-- i have been home in SF for nearly three weeks without a job and am ready to get going again. don't get me wrong, i really enjoyed being home and fall in love with the city every time i return. it was wonderful to have five days with my niece, Abigail, at "camp k" while Lauren and Jared were in Hawaii. she is such a curious, sassy, friendly little love and to have that dedicated time together was very special, not to mention, going up to Tahoe to stay at the Matthews' and go out on the boat with Jody and Shelly was such a treat. and then, once back in the city i had some wonderful days going hiking with my friend Josh and walked to Sausalito for lunch with Kate, and mountain biking with Jennie. and of course, many drinks, dinners, walks, and runs with Ari, Robin, and Lex. i had the unimaginable luck of being invited to participate in the North American IOD invitationals, a sailing regatta, for two days out on the Bay. i was absolutely grateful for the opportunity to participate in this, as this was the top IOD boats and crew from North America coming together to compete for a title. one of the women in our crew was jess, who is training to be in the 2016 olympics! i felt so unworthy to even be there with my scant knowledge of sailing. our team hailed from nantucket (well, actually none live there but they race there every weekend in the summer) and what was incredible was that, when asked where i was from, they ALL had connections to Concord, MA! either they had lived there or they have family who does. such a small world. and then the other boats in the fleet hailed form Fisher's Island (where i nannied several summers), Bar Harbor, and Marblehead. 

SOMA surf camp

"be in the moment," she said, as i tried to not be distracted by the butterflies fluttering amid the wildflowers outside the thatch hut gabriella uses as her popoyo yoga studio. i tried to focus on my breathing, "om, shanti," and calm the shaking leg holding myself in warrior two. 

we were on vacation for a ten day surf and yoga camp and each day had been better than the prior. our host, SOMA surf resort, gave us all the connections and set up all the activities and transport during our stay-- and there were many. we hiked Mombacho Volcano, explored Granada, galloped on the beach, surfed almost daily, did yoga, kick boxing, lounged by the pool, napped in hammocks, got massages, went deep sea fishing, and (of course) had a visit and private session with a shaman. but despite all the activities and early morning wake-ups to fit it all in, we leave feeling relaxed, full from all the delicious meals SOMA created, and have smiles, sun, stories, and yes, some bruises to show for the past days adventures.

it's not every day that you have the opportunity to spend a week and a half with two of your best friends in the remote tropics of Nicaragua. so when my friend, Alexis, suggested and researched the details of the trip, it was a no brainer that I was in. SOMA surf resort was rated #1 in Trip Advisor and while we certainly sought a "surf camp" to improve (OK, learn) our surfing abilities, "resort" was more our travel temperature. what Casey and her husband, Bill, the owners, have created is a beautiful hillside respite that allows you to feel relaxed and catered to, but even better, like a personal guest of theirs. at times they would relax with us in the pool, and at other times they would be the ones bringing our Tona beers or Flor de Cana cocktails. having previously been Calvin Klein's VP of marketing for 17 years, Casey has an eye for detail, precision, and luxury. those all transferred over to the way she runs SOMA, crafting a tightly run, beautiful, comfortable retreat for her guests. and while she runs the business side of the operation, no surf camp would be worthwhile without a surf guru.

Bill tried to put us on the best waves and showed us the many beautiful beaches and breaks, but as the novices we were, regardless of all the pointers and instructions he provided, we still managed to ingest more sand and sea than we thought possible. but "that which does not kill you only makes you stronger" and we are certainly stronger surfers, albeit worse for the wear. by the end of our ten days we were on hard tops and learning to turn, a huge improvement in our eyes.

as the Shaman told me as I lay on the table on our last night, having just had my chakras opened, "this trip is a turning point. a new beginning. you may not know why now, but you will discover it in the coming days." and while I have yet to identify the degree to which i have changed, i know that for that week, there was no other time, place, or moment i was to be in.

surf update

How was surfing yesterday?! How quickly my mind forgets. But maybe the five drinks to numb the pain also numbed my brain. Ah yes. Surfing was painful. Literally. Lex graduated to a hard top and we were shredding (obvi) when I got off my board after a ride and was pulling it in to me when I got bit or hit or attacked by (perhaps?) a scorpion stuck in my bootie. I didn't know WHAT it was but it f#$*ing KILLED! And it moved in the bootie so I thought maybe it was a crab stuck in there?! I dropped into the water and tried to pull off my bootie but was in SO MUCH pain. I didn't find anything in it but hobbled to shore and was looking for Bill to wave him in. I sat on my board, holding my foot as it started bleeding and was clenching back tears but by the time Bill got to me the tears won and I was convulsing in sobs between showing him and explaining what happened. It was a sting ray and I have the hole in my ankle and bootie to prove it. No es bueno. 

So Alexis and Bill carried me to the car and I squeezed my leg to try to manually tourniquet it so the poison wouldn't spread. Apparently the only salve is hot water -- like boiling hot -- which you need to submerge the sting in for TWO hours. The heat changes the chemical composition of the poison so that it is no longer a venom. So that's where the drinking came in :) Between the pain of the venom and the boiling hot water I was glad to numb my mind. Gracias Flor de Cana. 

And today I'm as fit as a fiddle! I kinda wish there was bruising or something bad ass to prove it but we must have acted fast enough or it must have been small enough. The booties were a real savior because, as it was, it went through the thick part of the bootie and STILL left a gash and many tears. Bill said it was "part of the Nicaraguan experience". If a scorpion sting is the next badge of honor to obtain the full experience then I'd rather not know the real deal. 

surf's up

My foot was inches away from a species capable of rendering my lips paralyzed and my equilibrium off. With caution I stepped, knowing the scorpion had just been seen in our bathroom minutes before and had disappeared into the wood-work. Hours earlier, on our drive back to the resort from our sunset walk on the beach, we saw a boa constrictor crossing the road. We are in Nicaragua.

We chose SOMA surf resort in Popoyo Nicaragua, two hours south-east of the capital, Managua, because we were intent on learning to surf and had heard Nica was the spot. Surfing is a sport that is said to be one of the most humbling, we were warned. Successful financiers, tech people, and CEO's have reportedly come to SOMA seeking to excel in surfing, as they do for most things, and have repeatedly failed. "The sport is dynamic. The water moves under you and you move on the board. The ocean conditions are unpredictable and always changing. It's not like skiing, where you move on a stable mountain," Bill, the owner and our surf teacher for the week, explained. Still, I had high expectations for my improvement, expecting to be on a short-board by the end of the trip. Though Jonathan levelled my expectations by saying, "Thinking you'll be on a short-board is like aiming to be on the Olympic Ski Team after a week of lessons. Audacious at best. Impossible in reality."

Fortunately I had two lessons in the Maldives prior to coming to SOMA, where I was able to refresh my skills (dare I say?) from my last surf experience: casual Costa Rican lessons almost four years ago. Which means that day-one Nica I was on a foam top board but starting to turn. And day two I graduated to an 8ft hard top. I've always poo-poo'd the adage "you can't teach an old dog new tricks" but while I still think that it IS possible to learn new tricks, it is REALLY REALLY hard.

But of course we're not JUST surfing, as our limit for being pummeled by crashing waves, and our patience with our improvement is not fool hardy. So the rest of our days are filled with a plethora of other fun adventures: two hour yoga sessions, volcano hikes, deep sea fishing, horseback riding, and hot spring plunging to ease our weary bodies. This morning is our horse back riding session, a two hour beach excursion where, we were told, the horses are allowed to open up to a full canter. Great! We didn't want any of the blaise beach walks that most tourist excursions limit. This is where an un-litigious country comes in handy.

But in addition to the fun-filled days of activities, this trip is already a success because my friends, Bridget and Alexis, had never met before, let alone traveled abroad for a week together. And as expected, they are getting along swimmingly! Both with a dry sense of humor and an ability to observe, and call-out, a nuance of a situation, they are fun travel companions and even better friends. Plus, we're all beginner surfers, which makes us a perfect trio.

kings

It's not everyday that you witness a king. And yet within the past month we have seen them several times. What lions are to the plains, sharks are to the waters. The encircling fish stay in schools, keeping a weary eye turned to spot vengeance, just like the antelope of the safari.

Yesterday permitted us to witness this underwater kingdom, with the kings of the sea reigning. The Thila dive is within hitting distance (OK, maybe Willie Mays', but still) of the beach outside our room, but is one of the more acclaimed dives in the atoll. As our last (of eight) dives to meet "Advanced Diver" certification, this dive was definitely the hardest for me due to what I considered to be "fast" current (but which I later learned from our guide was weak by Maldivian standards). At times the currents were fun because it made the dive easy from the perspective of minimal kicking. You just move along with the water as you float past amazing fish and coral life (it felt like you were on a conveyor belt). But then, once you wanted to stop to view something, it required gripping the coral to hang on -- but not just anywhere since you could accidentally grab a camouflaged scorpion fish or stingray coral.

This is what was required as we approached the "cleaning station". We clung to what would be 5.12 hand-holds for rock climbing (mere one-inch knobs) to avoid being swept down current and into the cleaning station. As we held post, about four or five grey reef sharks, measuring five or six feet in length, made their circuit just ten feet from us. It was as if we were watching them go through a car wash! Apparently sharks need to bathe, too, and to do so there is a reciprocal relationship where the Wrasse cleaner fish (aptly named) eact the sea lice from the backs of sharks, much like the symbiotic relationship between the water buffalo and the white egrets perpetually on their backs. For several minutes we clung, watching these sharks rinse and repeat, while above us we spotted a lone white-tipped reef shark. As we swam away we got pushed right into the cleaning station. But grey reef sharks aren't a threat. They merely moved away and I'm sure went back into the circuit after we left.

The dive also afforded us a view of a lone eagle ray, about four feet wing span, slowly cruising by in the deeper water. And as per our luck in every dive, we saw another sea turtle and got three feet from him! Thila is one of the better reefs because of the proliferation of fish, and as we crested the reef you could see this truth come to fruition. Schools of fish by the hundreds zoomed by in what was reminiscent of the streets of Saigon. Similarly, to "cross" the fray one just moves into the chaos and miraculously the throngs of movers just detour around.

On our night dive, however, there were fish that were small silver bullets who did not know the etiquette of detouring and periodically I would be besieged by an errant bullet crashing into my leg, or once, my hair. But although that interaction was fun, albeit tickling, the highlight of our dive was seeing a school of modular rays about twenty feet to our side, and then, a lobster -- a nocturnal hunter-- standing tall, antennas up, outside the reef cave he calls home. 

It was sad to leave the underwater world, so beautiful, diverse and unique from anything else. And it will be sad to leave the turquoise waters, the waving palms, and the lulling, crashing waves of this paradise. But new adventures await and every chapter has an ending. With a quick trip home to unpack and repack and a visit from friend Ryta and her husband Paul in the Bay Area, I am next off to conquer more waves and sand with a girls surf camp with friends Alexis and Bridget. Short board by end of the week? Naive or optimistic? Stay tuned.

Herman's habitat

There once was a hermit named Herman.

Who was far but dormant as a doorman.

We swept him away

to take him to play.

Now he live on the far side ' the island.

Will he make a new life on these beaches?

Find a family, a home, and amicis?

We took him away

on that fateful day.

Herman's past may be all he beseaches.

There's no telling what dwells on Herm's mind.

Nor no beach that that crab couldn't find.

'Cause that crabs got fast legs

and a countenence that won't beg.

Yes our hermit's a one of a kind.

the Maldives

There's something exhilarating about a looming storm. We've had tropical winds and rains daily here and yet still the beauty, the anticipation, and the power of them is enthralling. The wind sheers the top off the standing waves and the trees bend in reverence. People scurry a bit faster and the electricity in the air is... electrifying. Today has been a slack day for us. No surf, no scuba. Just an 8am run and swim and some West Wing episodes. Slackers or vacationers? We're not very good at doing nothing. Even while I write this J has emerged from our room, previously slated for sleep, but claiming "it's too boring". So instead we sit, watching and listening again to the rain from our back porch.

Porches seem like such an American ideal. Are they not? Something about them is therapeutic. Why is that? Neanderthals didn't have porches. Perhaps the car manufacturer was tapping into the serotonin of porch sittin' when they came up with a more blood-pounding version.

Regardless, here we sit on our porch, not talking but just listening. I think I like rain storms because of their forced relaxation. When always on the go it's nice to sometimes have the playground closed for rehabilitation. I'm not very good at calling it quits on my own. Even when I'm sick I'm a very bad patient and think, huh, while I'm home I guess I should do laundry and reorganize the pantry and clean my apartment... Not so fast, Ms Sardina. Slow them horses.

The Maldives has been wonderful. Lots of activity but lots of repetition and gradual routine. We've done five dives (J has done 6) and four massages (collectively) in the week we've been here. Along with SUPing, surfing, snorkeling, sailing, running, writing, drawing, and eating. We know most of the staff and have the restaurants and processes dialed in by now that for week two we'll be firing all axels.

Scuba has been the highlight for me. It's amazing what a different ecology and landscape exists down there. The fish are the most colorful I've ever seen and the corals are the most engaging textures and patterns. We have even done a night dive where certain corals actually open like feather fans or flowers. They are stunning. In all we've done a night dive, a "deep water" dive, a reef dive, a drift/cave dive, and a wreck dive and have seen countless of anonymous fish as well as eels, sting rays, mobular rays, lobsters, shrimp, sea turtles, sea slugs, lion fish, clown fish, tuna, napoleons, butterfly fish, angel fish, grouper and nemo. In my second dive I was quite anxious and nervous, for some reason. Something about breathing underwater got me... but I've been fine since and am looking forward to our next dive location, Thila, where sharks and turtles are plentiful.

The other highlights have been star gazing, moonlit sans skivvies snorkeling, hobbie cat sailing, and surf lessons (preparing me for my next big trip to Nicaragua). And to be honest, I've loved the rains. We get cold drizzles in San Francisco. Here is none of that sissy stuff. It rains unabashedly.

J says his highlight has been spending time with me. What a romantic. And a bad actor, too. He's been killing it at surfing, though, getting morning sessions in almost daily and getting some great photos taken of him grabbing rail (do I sound legit?).

That's it for today. Not much more to report from paradise ;)

miracle(s)

The Maldives: Mythical and magical (and a miracle). It really is a miracle that we made it here to the Maldives. Our van broke down about two hours from the the airport on our way to catch our international flight out of Entebbe. And after Benson declared, "we cannot reach" (prepositions are considered unnecessary), he turned the car around and drive to the nearest town to find mechanics. An hour and a half (and literally pipe-hitting) later, we were on the road again yet this time weary of any successful departure. We had not checked in. We had bags to check. And this was an international flight requiring early airport arrival-- all obstacles in the making. As expected, things were far from smooth.

First, out driver didn't know where the departure section of the airport was, so he inched in as we pointed and urged. Then, when we arrived where signs had indicated, there were barricades and an officer stopping us, saying, "Ambassadors only". He finally let us through and we began our hurried run, but not after telling Benson to wait in case we missed our flight and needed to get a ride to a hotel. Sure enough, after making it through the ill-marked (or rather, unmarked) airport, we found our way upstairs and, after being told "your flight is closed", Jonathan ran downstairs again to find Benson to tell him. He was gone. Meanwhile, I stayed upstairs to figure out our next options with the agent. It was 4:50. Our flight started boarding at 4:40 and we had yet to get boarding passes, check our bags, go through customs and go through security. The woman helping us was on the phone. "Fred, there are two to the Maldives... Ok... Two to three weeks." Her conversation was short and we, standing helpless to her words and command, could only hear half of the conversation. Two to three weeks? Fred! Help us out!

After much typing and many calls and us begging to make accepting, Fred called back. She got off the phone, us waiting in her mercy. "Go quickly to the entrance to meet Fred. He can help you." What?! Miracle 1. "Thank you," I yelled, running out the door, already 50 steps behind Jonathan. "Don't thank me yet," she yelled back. Fred hooked us up. We don't know why or how but somehow we got our passports checked, boarding passes, bags checked (despite our requests to carry on for fear of them not making it), and got through customs and security.

As we stood at the gate we saw our two lone bags being whisked out to the plane. They're on! Miracle 2. So we're here, not back in Africa, not dead on arrival (the cynical side of me thought, with turbulence, that our plane would crash and perhaps we weren't meant to be on that flight), and not only were we not killed but we didn't kill each other in the process. Miracle 3. "Calm under pressure," we high-fived. It was inevitable in a trip of this length, to the non-easy destinations we chose, that there would be challenges we would encounter. And we did, but not until the end of Africa. And we weathered it fine!

Traveling abroad is like having a roommate: you might be best friends and get along perfectly but then when you live together you discover you're on different schedules, have different degrees (or definitions) of cleanliness, and find yourselves at each others' throats constantly (or if you're passive aggressive, you find yourself boiling and wanting to be at their throat). Similarly, traveling exposes different speeds and different degrees or definitions of "planned". And like the tropical storm outside, we have escaped and weathered it really well. We have very similar interests and speeds and are both flexible enough to go along with what the other wants or fine with saying, "no you go", and parting ways. In Africa and in Massachusetts, Jonathan and I did everything together, prompting him to ask, "did you miss me?" when, for the first time in three weeks, when he surfed and I stand-up paddle boarded (SUPed), we were apart.

Our days in Africa after the safari were less exciting, but not less beautiful. We stopped on our way north for lunch at Volcanoes Lodge, a property with only three rooms in the hills that edge the plateau which makes up the park. It was stunning. An old coffee factory, it had a trendy, stylish designer's touch, and because they had no guests at the time, they permitted us to lounge for hours, which we did on their veranda-- me drinking cold South African wine-- and eat the best steak we have had. We were sad to leave but were escorted out with salutations, "You are welcome to come again." Yes please.! We were off to the Rwenzori mountains to do yet another hike. We hated our accommodations (though anything in comparison to our lunch spot was less than exciting) and the "nature walk" the next day, which we were given very little details on prior to embarking, turned out to be 5-7 hours of hiking 8 miles and 5,000 feet. Talk about testing a relationship. Jonathan doesn't like to hike and, though at the beginning of the hike when I said "thanks for doing this" he replied "I'm glad if it makes you happy", by the middle he had changed his words to expletives. Rut roh. Not a happy hiker and he had reason to be. On our descent from Karisimbi, Rwanda's tallest peak at almost 15,000 feet, which we had summited during our time in Volcans National Park, wreaked havoc on his knees, and even stairs since were painful. So another "nature walk" of this calibre was less than desirable for him. It turns out the hike was less than desirable for me, too. The peak was shrouded in so any views of Queen Elizabeth and the towns at the base of the large Rwenzori chain was obscured. So all that effort and fuss was not even made up for by a stellar view. Fortunately, our lodge the following night more than provided that. Perched on a ridge at the edge of a small lake, Kyaninga Lodge steps it's way up the spine in thatched punctuations through the trees. Each bungalow, and there are only eight, is among the tree tops, causing us to forgo our scheduled and booked chimp trekking the following day for just a day of relaxing in such a lovely spot. While having our breakfast on the porch the next morning we were treated to our own monkey viewing; Corbis monkeys jumped and screeched in the tree just 150 meters from our porch. And because resting is not a word J and I are familiar with, we are our way down to the lake for a quick dip before lunch.

The lodge was absolutely amazing, as Sandra had recommended, and we were disappointed that our itinerary only included one night there (despite us confirming and paying for an itinerary with two nights... don't get us started). Fortunately we had another highly recommended lodge for our next night, one which Sandra and Sharlene weighed the merits of equally when they were providing advice. Ndali lodge also sits atop a spine, with lakes on both sides, and has more of a "homey", "garden" feel. We loved that there was little to no electricity, necessitating kerosene lights in the evening, and loved the cozy "shabby chic" African decor, and the veranda where breakfast was served. Unfortunately our impression was marred upon arrival by the jumping and squealing of happy children (do we sound like devils for saying that?)! While a happy child is a happy sight and sound USUALLY, it was not exactly relaxing (though their British accents singing, "Ring around the roses" was charming... the first time).

And that leads us here: the Maldives, a mythical and magical place. It is somewhat unsettling to think of this phenomenal island country, made up of 200,000 islands and spreading 400 miles square, as being only 7 feet at its maximum elevation. Maybe this is the best terrain for J's knees...

The tsunami in 2003 ravaged the island we are on, Kandooma, leading them to rebuild it entirely. It's shuddering to think of the movie we watched on our first flight out to Boston. To imagine the chaos, the damage, the fear and the tears of the island, it's structure, and it's inhabitants happened here.

It is truly magical as you fly over this almost under-water chain. Google satellite images will show you what an atoll is far better than I can describe, but recall your days of biology. Remember how the cells looked under a microscope where there were clusters of cells that would cling together to make a larger circle? But then there were many of these clusters? That's what it looks like when you fly into Male. There is a defined "edge" encircling the atoll (though the edge is made up of multiple island exteriors). And then there are little islands that appear as not-quites, reaching just shy of the waters' breaking level and thus remaining submerged. These islands are hot spots of turquoise from above, surrounded by dark, deep ocean. So as one looks from the shore, instead of a transitional darkening, you see striations of deep blue and vibrant turquoise as you scan the horizon.

These hot spots are reefs and denizens of aquatic life, a scuba diver's playground. Having just been certified in July in order to take advantage of these waters, my first real dive (outside from the frigid 40ft waters of Monterey) is tomorrow... Wish me luck!

lions and leopards and ellies-- oh my!

Jambo! We are sitting on the porch of our amazing safari lodge, Mweya, on our second full day of safari here in Queen Elizabeth National Park. We awoke to the most phenomenal thunderstorm slashing at our porch and sending sharp streaks of lightning bolts into the channel beyond our doors. Even as I write the thunder continues to roll, though the rain has subsided. Our morning safari was planned to depart at 7am but we are waiting now until the animals come back out of protection.

We have had some amazing siting. Last night we drove out to where we had seen the lions in the earlier morning game drive. Instead of being far away from the dirt path as they had been previously, they were much closer, though still lounging. As we sat there, the sun setting behind us across the plains and a cold beer in hand, the pride slowly leap frogged closer to our car. One would get up, move a few feet in our direction and then flop. Then another would get up, pass the first, and flop. Closer and closer the juvenile males and their mama flopped, sometimes in twos and sometimes pouncing on each other or rolling over like house lazy cats when they hit ground. But then one young male came sauntering right towards the vehicles to an anthill only fifteen feet from the closest car. It was as if he were claiming "King of the mountain" before us, putting on a show. Then the others came closer and eventually all eight that had been farther out were only 30feet from our car, sitting, rolling, pouncing on each other with playful growls and gnashed teeth. We stayed watching for over an hour in complete disbelief by their proximity not just to see but to HEAR! Like the gorillas we were lucky to see, this was sure to be one of the highlights of our trip for sure.

The previous night's safari was not long in duration but high in excitement. As we made our way back to the lodge at dusk we were told by a passing vehicle that there was an elephant in the path ahead. So we were on the lookout for this beastly animal when Benson stopped the van. "Do you see? On the ground." We scanned the ground, looking for an elephant. How can you miss it when it's several tons?! We couldn't see it! But then, within seconds, we DID see! Not an elephant but a beautiful leopard lying between two bushes in plain sight only 20ft from the car! Her white was so white and her tail had spots that increased in size as they neared the end. Again, we sat and watched for a while and then Benson shined his headlights on her to have her stand up. What a beauty! She came a mere 15ft from us, stopped and crouched behind a bush to stare at us. Slowly, after deciding not to attack the big vehicle, she slunk away, low to the ground. As we pulled away on cloud nine we were still exclaiming how COOL that was when, ahead! A lion! But as we got closer we saw, no! It was another leopard. But a male this time, so darker and larger! Two leopards close to the road for viewing is just remarkable, considering they are such reclusive, elusive, solitary creatures. We are SO lucky!

We've also had the enjoyment of seeing elephants, hippos, kob (an antelope), water bucks, buffaloes, mongeese, hyenas, alligators, Corbis monkeys, baboons, monitor lizards, warthogs, and countless birds (storks, fish eagles, king fishers, pelicans, and winged creatures with other amazing colors and sounds). As Benson said, as we "oohed" and "Ahhed" our way in the winding mountainside of Lake Buynyoni as we exclaimed, "this is SO beautiful", "each place is a new type of beauty which will cause you to forget the previous." As we sit here listening to the birds chattering, the lake and channel breeze, and see the winding dirt road snake away from the lodge to the plethora of amazing wilderness, we know he is right. This is new best thing.

muzungu

Hi. My name is Kristin and I'm a Muzungu. It's a multidimensional, loaded word and title, but it fits, connotations and all. We've been in Africa a week now and have seen and experienced some amazing things, but it is hard to not be aware of the color of our skin and the amazing privileges we have been bestowed. Muzungu means more than just "white person", though. It means "wanderer", an eponym I am happy to claim. I've always had a nomadic spirit, finding it hard to rest and always questioning the status quo to find the next best thing. Muzungu also means "rich person" and though, by American standards I am doing just fine, but not rich, here we are wealthy. "What do locals think of us," I asked Benson, our local driver and guide while here in Uganda. "You are money. They see you and know the Muzungu are rich. They make baskets and things in the market for you to buy. They don't buy them because they can make them themselves." We tried to think of comparisons for us. Who are the Muzungu in our world? We ruled out movie stars and even royalty because, though wealthy to extremes that we can't comprehend, they are names and faces we know, whereas we are total strangers passing by to them, yet are given a title. The closest we can relate is some man driving past in a Ferrari and we stop to yell, "rich man"! It's actually quite laughable if you give it context driving down a familiar street in your world. But then you have to layer on the racial segregation or identification and it's like seeing that Ferrari driving by and us yelling, "rich Indian man who travels all the time"! That is our experience here. We are called at, pointed at, and waved at. The children sometimes even yell, "give me money" as we pass, and one time a grown woman yelled something which caused Benson to laugh. "She wants you to take her children home with you", he translated. Be careful what you wish for, lady...! Here we are royalty.

But Jonathan and I don't think it's self aggrandizement that spawns our travels-- we don't seek out developing countries as destinations to make ourselves feel better about our place in the world. We seek to be wanderers in order to understand the world and different cultures. I read in an Economist article this morning that Lagos is projected to reach almost 12 million people by the end of the year. 12 million. And maybe 95%of the world, myself included, wouldn't be able to identify exactly where it is on a map. 12 million. And we think NYC, with it's 8 million is huge and the epicenter of the world. How can we live without at least trying to understand the world outside our fishbowl? How can we not look for, and celebrate, what makes cultures unique and similar? How can we not want to understand interconnectedness? Without travel there would not be a face and a name, Mark, to the story of the man who walks three hours a day EACH WAY to his job to serve us breakfast. Or a face and a name, Nicholas, to the 20 year old boy who sells crafts because he cannot afford the $900 that secondary school costs for a year. Or a face and a name, Kevin, to a survivor of the atrocious Rwandan genocide when he was merely eleven. It is these anecdotes that spawn our travels and put our privileged life in perspective. Again, not in a way to make us feel better about ourselves, but to provide reminders of all that we have to be grateful for. These are the stories and faces that provide color and salt and three-dimensionality to an otherwise flat world. At once it makes the world incredibly huge and incredibly small and we are honored to play witness to it.

expectations

There's a quote in "Outside" magazine that spoke to me. The article was about two brothers who, in the recession, bought a sailboat and decided to circumnavigate the world in a Santana 22. "It turns out that unhappiness is just about getting caught up in your expectations." Did they write this for me? I need to listen raptly. I fall victim to this without fail. I always have expectations, and high ones. I think it is because I create a place or experience or person in my mind. I'm a designer, what can I say?! But despite reality not being my fabrications, I am quite happy. I have amazing friends, a fabulous boyfriend, have had some awesome life experiences, and I have an absolutely wonderful family whom I love and love me. I am beyond lucky, and I know that. But where most things don't meet expectations (not in a bad way, just in that I visualized one thing and it's obviously not that same thing), the gorilla trekking we went on in Volcans National Park exceeded my expectations.

The process of securing the permits to go gorilla trekking in Rwanda, the same mountains that became famous through the research done by Diane Fossey, was a stressful one. Our Africa portion of our adventure was facilitated through a travel agent in Uganda (credit again goes to Ms Sandra Butler for all references) and despite hundreds of emails tweaking the itinerary to be juuuust right, though all with the trekking on a specific day, by the time we went to lay down the plastic to make it all happen I received an email response from our agent, "The day you request to trek is no longer available, as is the remainder of the month of August." What??? I was in a hotel room in Asheville, North Carolina with my sister and cousin and couldn't have felt more removed from the fate this African woman was giving me. In our pajamas and not even a word of "good morning" exchanged, Lauren and Sarah heard my cry and asked what was the matter. Of course crying may seem overreactive, but gorilla trekking was basically THE reason for going to Africa. Granted it was only a day of our two week trip, but it was the highlight. If we wanted just a safari we likely would have chosen another more renowned country. But if you want gorilla trekking you go to Rwanda. And now we've planned a VERY expensive trip (for us, at least) and the highlight is claimed to be unavailable? Where was the warning from our agent "permits are a hot commodity in August so we should lock that in promptly"?

Fortunately I had Lauren and Sarah, two bright, creative, level-headed minds, to brainstorm possibilities. There were two days available at the end of August, could I reverse my trip and start in Uganda and end in Kigali, despite flights already being purchased in and out of the opposite? Are there permits available at the end of July and we could change our arrival flight to go early? Is there a secondary black market? Is Africa as corrupt as some stories reveal and are bribes possible? I crafted my email to Anne, our agent suggesting the possibilities and telling her my vexation. HOW can she help?! I couldn't reach Jonathan because he was off the grid fishing, not to mention I felt as though I had dropped the ball on this. Although the trip was both of our desires and expenses, I had been the one spearheading the coordination of Africa and J, the Maldives. This was the first trip we had planned together. Would he think I was irresponsible for not committing us sooner?

A week later while at my friend Robin's house, Jonathan returned to cell service so I excused myself to talk with him. We chatted and giggled like high school sweethearts. But then I had to talk business for a bit. Choking back tears I gave him the update of our permits. By then Anne seemed to think that she or another agent would get them for while we were in the country. (Don't ask me how things would change like that.) Jonathan was amazing and immediately allayed any concerns, "it will all work out" not to mention treated the whole matter as something WE failed to act on sooner. I went back to my girlfriends feeling a load off my chest from potentially disappointing my boyfriend and feeling disheartened by no permits and newly feeling supported and encouraged. In the end Anne was able to secure two permits for us the day after we arrived (a bit earlier than desired given we will have traveled 30hours the day prior and you need to wake for the trekking at 5am) but it was working out, none-the-less!

All this to say, the gorilla trekking held MUCH anticipation, and, as earlier revealed, expectations can be my downfall. When we arrived to the base of the trek we were put in a group to see the "Lucky" or "Hirwa" group, as it's called in Kinyarwanda. This family has 17 members in it, including baby twins a year old and a silver back. We didn't have far to hike for this family, though they had been seen by the scouters at the top of the mountain where Rwanda, Uganda, and the Congo converge just the day prior. The "Hirwa" family is one of ten families being tracked and introduced to humans in tour of an hour a day. There are eight other families that are reserved for research purposes so no tourists can visit.

As we walked over the stone walls through a village with adorable children and through farms with women hoeing while carrying infants on their backs, we came to an opening among a bamboo forest where our two guides, Patrick and Roger, were met by the trackers who had gone ahead of us to identify the exact location of the family. "We are here. They are close," they told us. Anticipation and excitement spread among us. "Keep your voices low or don't talk in front of the gorillas." J poked me. No wonder he was so looking forward to this! Slowly we followed our guides and the security (who were there to shoot in the air to scare off elephants or buffalo if we encountered any in the dense jungle). Jonathan and I were at the back of our single-file group (we were seven total) and ahead of us we spotted the back of the big silver back gorilla! But then, behind us we heard more movement in the trees. We were surrounded by gorillas! At times we were within two feet of one of them and Jonathan was passed in the path by the silver back. As his huge bulking frame passed by him and another lady, standing between Jonathan and me, he slowed his stride, looked at the lady, lifted his back leg and kicked her. She staggered back, being pushed off balance, and I caught her. She was surprised and a bit shaken but not hurt. He touched her! I felt partially bad for her and partially jealous. She was touched by a silver back!

We watched the gorillas as they moved from area to area, the silver back at one point pulling an entire 20ft tree down to eat from it's branches. The babies played, rolled, and munched allege while. It was certainly and experience and thrill of a lifetime. Diane Fossey would have been pleased to witness such a thriving group who were happy and safe, decades after her battles with poachers. What was my expectation? I can't say exactly, but what we experienced was far better than my imaginations.

rewandering

We made it here! Musanze, to be exact. Up in Volcans National Park, the northern most part of Rwanda. Our flight arrived yesterday at noon, and after 30 hours of travel we were whisked away by Kevin, our driver and guide for the week who, ironically, was Sandra's and Dorothee's driver when they visited Volcans two years ago. He was highly regarded so we were thrilled to get him. We were surprised when, within minutes of picking us up, he began to talk about the Genocide. It started with him describing the Kigali city development in terms of "pre-genocide" and "post" neighborhoods. But it opened up to much more detailed sharing after we stopped to visit the Genocide Museum. Despite fatigue and exhaustion from so much travel, we were told the museum would provide so much context for our understanding of their country, so, interested to learn more, we stopped there for an hour of sobering reality. The rift between the Hutu and Tutsi was a longstanding one, beginning in the 50s but not coming to a head until 1994 when 2million Tutsi were murdered in three months. Our exposure to the atrocities was only through watching Hotel Rwanda years past, so the museum was eye-opening to learn more of the history in detail. Having happened only 19 years prior to our visit means that almost everyone we came across had a personal account of it. Kevin, the most open account we were privileged to told us that he grew up in Kigali as one of eight children, four of whom were killed in the "Bad Times", his sister having been in bed with him when the Hutu raided their house. Kevin jumped out the window and fled to the corn field, where he hid for a week. His sister was beheaded. His other brother, the eldest, was shot trying to protect their house. The other siblings were living with their aunt so the details of their deaths are unknown. As an eleven year old, Kevin went to a refugee camp, where he lived in horrid conditions-- little food, tight quarters, and poor education-- for three years, all the while unaware as to the survival of his parents and other siblings. Were they later killed? Were they in a similar refugee camp?

At one point in our drive north Kevin received a phone call. After serval minutes of talking he got off and said the man who called was his best friend and his only family (since his biological family was not there) while he was at the camp. But one day this best friend disappeared. First he lost his real family, then his best friend. Poof. Gone. But here, 19 years later, this man is now in Kigali with his wife, visiting from the US and looked up Kevin! It's absolutely crazy! And it goes to show how recent all this is. They are still piecing together stories and locating loved ones. You might think that it would be hard to be reunited and have a reminder of that painful chapter in his life, but it might be shocking, as it was to us, to learn that Kevin has dinner regularly with the man who killed his siblings. This man was a neighbor of theirs and now, after ten years of prison, is out and back living in the same house as he used to live. So they are neighbors again. As I mentioned, this was a shock to learn, but Kevin was very even keeled and said, "He apologized and it wasn't him, it was our government and to move forward we have to look forward." This degree of forgiveness is one that I witnessed in Cambodia with the genocide of Pohl Pot in the 70s and we heard from our tour guide at Tuol Sleung that there were persecutors living among them who had yet to be tried for their crimes, but they have been, at this point, forgiven for the atrocities they committed. I cant imagine the degree of forgiveness for something as horrible as the slaughter of your family and I pray that I will never be tested on that.

Kevin's outlook on the future is so heartening. His siblings are both public singers on the radio and are competing in the Rwandan equivalent of "American idol", called "Turi Kumwe" meaning "all together" and their songs are about love, life, and healing. This Saturday is the finale of the show, where the top five contestants compete, two of whom are his family, so we are looking forward to watching the show with him! On our way up to Volcans, we blasted their music and watched the music videos, complete with several cameos of Kevin!

Not only are the people forward-thinking, but the country seems to be as well. The infrastructure is often very new and the roads are phenomenally unkept (better than in the States). And the streets and towns are incredibly clean. It is like the Switzerland of Africa! But to distinguish itself as "post-genocide", even the language has changed to be English and Kinyarwanda from French. I know Sandra and Dorothee said, coming from the chaos of Uganda, that they found the order to be eerily Stalinist. And in some ways they are right. You liter, you are fined $50. It is illegal to identify someone as Hutu or Tutsi now They are "all Rwandans" (though we learned that, like the Hazara in Afghanistan, the nose is usually the defining feature to determine heritage). One South African man was seen wearing a shirt that had the face and emblem of the former Hutu leader and mysteriously disappeared for a week. It reminds me of the confederate flags sometimes seen flying in the deep south still, endorsing a region and group of people who were more than just slave owners, but at times persecutors of their own perverse crimes and murders. But despite the irreverence and insensitivity those southerners have, they still have their freedom of expression. The Rwandans, in fear of a repetitive ethnic cleansing, skew the other way to control their words and even dress. Eerily Stalinist indeed... but yet it's lovely and we find it the "Africa lite" compared to other dirty, chaotic, depressed countries we've visited.

heading east

We're off! Embarking on an amazing adventure which will undoubtably, as Alexis reminds me, be a life-changing one. And while excitement, anticipation, perhaps even some anxiety should be flooding my thoughts and ind, my heart is instead filled with incredible sadness. The reason is not for the travel or the impending adventure, but instead for the powerful , emotional and extremely depressing movie that we just finished. "The Impossible", at the same, time, is inspiring, humbling, and encouraging. I wouldn't normally write about a movie, however this one is moving enough and surprisingly relevant to our future months. Set in Thailand at the time of the tsunami, it depicts a family on vacation as they survive the horrors of the event and its aftermath. And while scenes of loss and reunion were most dominant throughout the movie, the ones that I cling to are the ones that capture the good and universal I see in the world. We have seven countries in the next four months that we are blessed to experience and explore and what this movie reminded me of -- and our travels will inevitably show us-- is that no matter where you are, what language you speak, and what your name, age, culture, faith, job, income, etc etc are, we are all the same. The crying and pain, both physical and emotional, that these characters were depicting are ones we would all feel. And then the desire to help those less fortunate than us -- whether the villagers bandaging and transporting Maria and her son, or Maria wanting to help rescue the little boy, Daniel -- is something that all good people aspire to.

I remember going to Africa for the first time and people saying how shocked and abhorred I would be by the depravity I would see and what, again, a life-changing exposure that would be. No doubt the poverty and dirt were horrible, but what surprised me the most was that, despite that, the overarching observation that I had was "they're just like us"! The children run and play, the moms worry, the dogs bark, and the sun also rises. In this movie the scenes of reunion and complete despair could be Americans, Swiss, Thais, Chinese, or anyone from any background.

I wonder if, not until we realize that we're all the same can we allow ourselves selflessness. Perhaps empathy is the requisite needed; "If I were in their shoes, what would I want or need?" But if selflessness is rooted in empathy, then it might really be selfishness because the internal conversation could go, "If that's what I would want or need and someone like me isn't able to provide that, then who am I to hope or expect that someone would help me if I were in their position?" This is exactly the thought process Maria has when she convinces her son, Lucas, to help save the boy Daniel. "If that boy were Simon or Thomas wouldn't we hope for someone to help?" To a degree I wonder how much "Karma-points" goes into making decisions like that. ("If I pull my weight here, we expect someone else to pull their weight there.") But isn't that what being a team is all about? I should use my strengths and abilities to help when I can and others will do their part? And maybe one individual doesn't change the world, but if we truly act as a team then I am not in a vacuum. The hard part about this is that it means you're never really "off". You can't expect others to be un-apathetic but then excuse yourself to be apathetic. So when you see that piece of trash in the water you can't say "oh, someone else will get it" or "it's not my problem" because if I expect others to be responsible it starts with me. I need to hold myself to the same standards. I desire a world that is loving, supportive, helpful, and compassionate, and therefore to meet that end I need to be a part of the solution. It's not a novel concept and I think intrinsically most people are compassionate and helpful but often fear strangles those attributes; in a dire situation we don't share our cell phones to call home because we worry that there might not be enough battery for us to use it later.

The other suppressant of those virtues is apathy. I'm not sure what causes it but I imagine that it stems from exhaustion and fatigue-- you try repeatedly and have continual failure and then reach a point of feeling disheartened. "What's the use?"

So while we globe trot over the next exciting, amazing, eye-opening months, I will certainly be aware of the uniquenesses of each country and culture, but I will look for, and celebrate, eye sameness prevalent as well.

we're really doing it

and so it begins... in two weeks. jonathan has been taking a "radical sabbatical" since january of this year and in my jealousy of his adventure, my desire to be with him, and my vulnerability to say "yes" whenever it has to do with a travel destination, i leave my job in a week and am taking several months to explore the world with him, some girlfriends, and our families. 

where to? well where not might be easier. ready? rwanda, uganda, maldives, oregon, nicaragua, italy, thailand, and myanmar... at least for now. the four month adventure always has the potential to snowball.

as the quotable lloyd in "dumb and dumber" says before his trip with his friend harry, "we're really doing it though, aren't we buddy?!" stay tuned for our epic adventures as globe trotters.