Biking, Shmiking (Viking). The Universe Loves Me Anyway.

In travel, it helps to be reminded: change really is the only constant.

If you'll indulge me for a moment, consider a circle. A circle is made up of infinite points, each one by definition totally different and distinct from the others. Take any given diameter, and the two points at either end are as far away as possible in relation to the given shape, as opposite as they can be. And yet, at the same time, a circle is continuous. The infinite points are all connected, drawn together into a single form by the endless path between them. A contradiction, then, the circle: both complete unity and complete division.  Infinite possibilities on the same path.


So I see the world. The world, with you at the center, holds endless possibilities for action at any one moment in time -- a continuous circle of choices, infinite points on a circumference with you free to choose any of infinite radii to get from one point on the circle to another, always coming into the middle, into yourself, first. Choices that at times seem contradictory -- you go left OR right, up OR down -- but that are actually all connected by the same path. It really isn't the destination, then, since there is no end point on a circle -- but the journey you choose to get there -- that dictates your experience in the world. And once you see that any journey you could possibly choose is connected to any other journey you could possibly choose -- that you are not eliminating any choices by taking one path over another -- the act of changing your direction doesn't seem nearly so daunting.

Where's that leave me? Well, as many of you may know, I'm no longer on a cross-country bike trip. I still have my bike with me, and I'm still traveling cross country, but the path has changed. For the sake of eliminating confusion, and keeping those of you who have been so supportive of my tour of self-discovery informed, I'm going to seek to provide a summary of the things that went into making this decision.

So, backtrack: last time I wrote, Jon and I were heading to the San Francisco Bay area, where he'd spend the weekend with friends in SF and I'd meet up with WT Kirschner to head off to our martial arts Gathering in Sacramento.  We had biked somewhere around 700 miles, and were looking forward to this weekend off-bike and, putting it delicately, away from each other (what, I don't do delicate well, go figure). Spending every waking moment with another person no more than 2 meters away from you gets tiring, as you spend a lot of energy figuring out the unique combination of interpersonal relations you need to make your time together productive and enjoyable, while establishing new forms of communication designed to build your relationship to a point where you can co-exist happily inside of the other person's bubble. The first month is tough -- you always have to do it, no matter how good friends you were before you left (ask Em, we did this -- quite successfully in the end, I might say) -- and its good to be able to get some space and come back together refreshed.


And so we headed off in different directions for a weekend. My weekend was at the Gathering, the martial arts seminar I attend every year with my friends and family from all over the US and world. I've often commented on this event to my friends back home, but it's hard for them to imagine what I mean when I say: this weekend expresses a whole different level of existence for me. I find that we all put so much energy into everything we do at the Gathering -- martially (training and learning and trying to grasp concepts from across the arts), emotionally (reestablishing and nurturing and trying to grow relationships that you only have once a year to reestablish), physically (working out 8 hours a day and drinking and dancing 8 hours a night and sleeping... sometime). You function at this higher level for 3 straight days, and then immediately return to your normal life, and it all... stops. Immediately. And as you fall back to your functioning equilibrium, that middle point, you feel like you've dropped just a little too far -- you're homesick, listless, exhausted, drained and energized and motivated all at the same time -- because "middle" takes a few days to seem normal again. Its like you were an electron on the outer ring of an atom, functioning at a measurably higher energy level, living in this whole new higher energy world -- and then you got pulled back, immediately, without crossing the space in between, to a lower orbital, a lower energy potential, and are existing somewhere with completely different rules and possibilities. Lucky for an electron, it doesn't have to think about this, it just becomes this new level of existence. It takes people a little longer to get used to it.   


So I came back from the Gathering in a bit of a funk, but as this was something I had experienced before I knew I'd move past it in a day or two. Much more importantly, I came back from the Gathering with new priorities, a new path that I was excited to follow, though it would mean some changes. But, being comfortable with change, seeing it as all part of the same general act of existing, I was excited to share these new ideas with Jon, to open up new fields of possibility for both of us. I wanted to become a full-time martial arts student.


Not forever, mind you. But I had been thinking a little bit on the bike over the past month about the lack of thinking one does when one travels. I call it "empty mind" time, this feeling where you and the universe are moving at exactly the same pace, neither of you having to stop for the other, your mind not racing ahead nor falling behind, just existing exactly in the "now". You view the world as it passes around you with an open mind, not prejudicing it with any expectations, just taking in new stimuli, addressing each one, and filing them away for later consideration. In my opinion, this is the time that those seeking something about themselves/ the world (whether they be travelers, writers, religious types) will start to ask and answer the "important questions" that come into the empty mind (thanks, Universe). Maybe this seems a little heady for some of you more exoteric folk -- but imagine it as just a slowing down of life, taking the time to just live/exist/be.


There's a lot of empty mind time on the bike. And in travel in general -- I had tons of it over my 13 months abroad, as I tried to digest everything going on around me without a priori knowledge of it. In fact, as it turned out, I had had enough of it on my 13 months travel and was getting a little ancy each evening after coming off the bike (its impossible to be ancy during "empty mind" time, once you're practiced at it) -- and felt like I needed to be doing something mentally "productive". Not productive in any sense but to myself, of course (which is why I travel), but something different. Until the Gathering, I didn't know what that something was, but I knew what it would include: writing. I've been encouraged (and have been encouraging myself) to take a chunk of time to devote to writing about my experiences traveling (for myself, for others, whatever), to just get some words down on paper, and I was working time into my "busy schedule" to do this. As it turns out, though, I've also been wanting to get back into training in the martial arts seriously. It's hard to get back into something by attending to it one day a week, off and on when you're near a martial arts school, for years. Well, the Gathering was exactly what I needed to bring these facts together -- this excess of empty mind time, the need to be productive, to write, to train. I decided I wanted to bike for another month, perhaps down to LA and then across to Phoenix, and then take the final month that we would have been biking and head back to the east coast to be a live-in student at a martial arts school in MA. My priorities had changed -- the principles of the journey the same, but the path different.  Lots to talk to Jon about -- but I thought it would be good for him as well, to consider what his priorities were for this trip.

Priorities had come up over the past month of biking together, of course. Not to mention over the past 5 years that I've known Jon. And I knew that he needed some time on the road by himself to start to "answer the important questions", to do something by himself for himself, to have that sort of "ah-ha" experience that none of us can predict for another person but that we each recognize when it happens for ourselves. Things we had talked about reinforced this knowledge, and I thought that certain types of thinking would be best done on his own -- especially as I had come to realize that I was at a totally different point in my personal development than Jon, if only because I had had the opportunity to do this sort of "heavy thinking" in my past 13 months of travel. So, when I broached this idea of going on our separate ways, it was not totally unexpected, and Jon was definitely open to it. The only thing that I didn't expect -- he was open to it that exact second. As in, no biking together for another month -- he was going to go bike by himself right away, get on the road solo-style.

Cool, I thought, and was about to rush to reassess my own plans, when it turned out that what we first needed to do was reassess Jon's motivations, his priorities for this trip, what he hoped to get out of it. Happy to serve as a sounding board, we spent a few long days in deep discussion about the validity of certain ideas/ideals that I hold as truth based on my experience, and that Jon was trying out for size in his own life. We reached the point, eventually, where Jon was ready to set off to bike east -- heading for Zion Nat'l Park, in UT -- and I was ready to do...

Well, to do what? See, back to that circle, it was quite suddenly, again, a world of infinite possibilities. No stranger to standing in the center of my circle and assessing my happiest path, I wasn't thrown off by this sudden abundance of opportunity -- but this was at exactly the same time as I was coming down off my post-Gathering high, taking time to get myself back together -- so it took a few days to gel together to a point where I had a coherent strategy for my next steps. Which leads to my post title: Biking, Shmiking (the Viking was just for funsies, it has nothing to do with this). 

I decided I didn't want to continue biking on my own. Quite frankly, besides the excess of open mind time, I wasn't really feeling it. I didn't mind biking -- there were lots of days when I really liked it, and the pace of travel suited me extraordinarily -- but I also didn't love biking. I figured I could spend more time loving my life (which is what my travels are all about, of course) doing day trips on the bike but the long-haul travel by public transport. And so I spent a day in San Francisco, hanging out with a very sweet guy I met on the ferry and getting kicked off of a block in Chinatown for playing acoustic guitar too loudly at midnight, and then caught a ride down to LA to see a friend from Bucknell. Which is when I came to the realization, once again, that the Universe loves me.

See, this friend I was going to stay with, Mikaela, was, incidentally, planning to drive back to Lewisburg, PA from LA, hoping to arrive in PA for Homecoming. Which, incidentally, was the last weekend in October... precisely the weekend I was hoping to be back east. Was she traveling with anyone else, I asked curiously? Oh, not yet, but she'd love to. Would I possibly be able to tag along, bike and all, assuming I could catch up with her at the right point on the W Coast? Oh, yes, definitely. Definitely? Wait, where exactly were her drives going to take her? Yellowstone, The Badlands, Chicago... two places I'd never been and had always wanted to see, and one place the home of my closest extended martial arts family. Not to mention Minneapolis to see a good mutual friend from college.

Um, can the Universe tell me it loves me any clearer? Really, this just reinforced my opinion that, if you're a good person and put a lot of good energy out there into the world, the Universe will reciprocate by working your stuff out for you and presenting a solution that you never expected. There's no point in worrying about endless possibilities, about any number of combinations of Choice A and Choice B and which combination is right, because the Universe will always let you know, quite clearly, when you've made the correct decision. You know when you worry and worry about some particular decision in your life, and make pro/con lists, and still can't decide whether A or B is the right decision? Maybe you break down, cry over your frustration, make love to a bottle of wine for the evening...and, somehow, just by backing away from the problem for a moment in time, you wake up the next day knowing (a visceral, physical knowledge) the choice that is correct for you? That's the Universe -- I just eliminate the whole "worrying" aspect and head off in either direction A or B (remembering the circle) and patiently await that physical knowledge that I've made the right choice. Hasn't failed me yet. 



So, that brings me to now. I'm in Phoenix, AZ, spending time with a good friend whom I went to Tanzania with in college. We just spent the long weekend hiking around the Grand Canyon, Bryce Canyon, and Zion Nat'l park, and now I'm just whittling time away until I get up north (by the end of the week, means and path as yet undetermined) to meet Mikaela and head east. I wanted to write about other things, stories of an old man in a coffee shop with a unique explanation of the world, post pictures from this past weekend... but I've written a book, it seems, and I hope that if you've gotten to the end of it you can find value from something within. Otherwise, thanks for sticking with it out of friendship alone (or whatever motivates you, boredom at work being a fine excuse in my opinion). More to come in future days, but until then -- love all around.


Yours,
Jess

Wheelin', and Dealin', mostly with racoons.

Hello, cyclists and pedestrians, and yes, drivers (unless you drive an RV. In which case, please get off my elbow)! That should cover all of you that read this blog, unless anyone commutes on a pogo stick. In which case, I want photos.
So, I'm at a public library in the Arcata, CA region of the world, kicking it around in my padded bike shorts looking like a bad-ass (per usual). We've put somewhere just over 650 miles on the bikes thus far, which has gone (touch wood) without a hitch. Well, some minor chain slippage and brake issues, as well as a few adjustments of various natures -- but no flats, major breakdowns, or even serious bodily injuries! Except for one morning, luckily on an off day, when I was awoken by a very odd twinge in my upper back that led to symptoms reminiscent of a pinched nerve (not that I've had one, but from what I've heard anyway). A few days and 2 trips to the chiropractor later, it basically cleared up, but I'm looking forward to a little more healing this weekend.
Because this weekend, which starts tomorrow, Jon and I rent a car and drive it down to San Francisco. From there, I catch a ride with some awesome friends (including WT Kirschner) to the Gathering in Sacramento, the big martial arts seminar I attend every year except last year (I was in Uzbekistan). I'm going to reconnect with my martial arts family, share stories and hot tub time, and get some healing arts practitioners to work on me a bunch. Not to mention learn a ton, work out the leg muscles in a different way, and relax off the bike for more than 24 hours. It's probably going to be a little weird.
Post SF, Jon and I plan to bike down the coast of CA to LA, and then to take a train across some mountains to Flagstaff, AZ. We plan to reunite with one of my friends from my semester abroad in Tze, which is going to be amazing, and do a weekend driving tour of the Grand Canyon, Zion Nat'l park, and anything else we see along the way. The route beyond Flagstaff is as-yet-to-be-determined, but it will involve some biking and some public transport over any particularly large bumps in the terrain. Because you see, friends, I'm on my bike because I think this is fun. Whenever it stops being fun, I don't want to do it anymore. Following the path of reason, going up hill for anything more than about 2 miles (at a relatively decent grade) stops being fun. Therefore, why not take a train or something to preserve that feeling of funness for as long as possible? I've got nothing to prove by going over big mountains on my own two-wheeled machine. And yes, to close this subject, I may be the laziest person whose ever tried to ride a bike across the USA. I've already dealt with that fact. I leave it up to you to interpret the rest of my posts with such knowledge at hand.
So, what else? Well, we keep meeting really cool bikers on the road -- its amazing how many people set off and try to bike long distances. We met this couple who are biking from Alaska to Argentina -- which is a little crazy -- expecting to take somewhere around 18 months. I want to do that trip, too, but I'd prefer to do it with motor-assistance. I keep eating minute amounts of bike grease, since it pretty much gets everywhere anytime you touch anything on your bike besides your handlebars (and now, even if you touch those, because you kinda have to once you touch anything else if you expect to keep riding). I hope it's non-toxic. Finally, we had this great dinner last night, because we ran into a little event called "Tastes of Trinidad" (thats a town in CA, not the little country) and got to sample multiple wines and restaurant fares for only $10. It was convienently located at the visitor's center of the park we were staying at (Patrick's Point State Park), and so we couldn't resist. Much better than the cous-cous chili beef-stick dinner we were planning. (By the way: does anyone else think that "cous cous" sounds like some exotic, perhaps extinct, bird, similar to the dodo? I do.)
Okay, I'm done here. Hope you find this mildly entertaining, though I suppose if you didn't, you wouldn't still be reading by now. And please, on the comments, let me know what sort of news you'd like to know from this bike trip -- play by play of each mile? Where we camp between riding? Stories of the people we meet? I'll try to mix it up, but I'd love opinions.

Yours,
Jess

Biking the West Coast!

Fans, friends, and family, let me tell you: after biking 500 miles, you definitely still notice the hills, regardless of whatever anyone else tells you. By around 500 miles, the only real thing that's changed (in my opinion) is your ability to convince yourself that the next hill can't possibly be THAT bad, and that, the next morning, the hill the previous day didn't actually exist. Oh, and the increase in the amount of food you can consume in one day. Today, in one sitting, I ate a HUGE slice of lasagna and half a bagel and cream cheese and a cookie. After snacking on a baked potato, some beef jerky, and a few baby carrots on the way to town.

But hey! I've biked 500 miles! 505, to be exact (well, mostly exact anyway), all the way from Seattle, WA to Bandon, OR, where I currently sit in a public library writing this little missive to you. Shortest riding day: 23 miles (today, actually). Longest: 48 miles (about 3 days ago). Usual average: 40 miles, give or take a couple. We meet seasoned bike tourers who average around 55, fully loaded (with stuff, rather than with a nice friend who follows them around in a car carrying all their stuff, which I totally need next time I do this), so we're not feeling too bad about our days, considering we hadn't biked a single day fully loaded prior to Seattle - ever.

Our days, in case you are curious, work out approximately like this:

Wake up, between 6 and 630am.
Change into biking clothes (sexy), pack up, eat breakfast, Stretch
Start biking (between 730 and 8)
Bike/hydrate, stretch, eat, water the bushes, repeat, until between 230 and 4pm
Find a spot to camp, and hopefully, shower. Cook, set up camp, read, wash laundry, pet dogs.
Sleep (no later than 830pm). Do it all again the next day.

So, there's a lot of time for thinking, and looking about, and checking out viewpoints, and saying mean things about hills and people who design roads to go up hills, and deciding when you're next going to eat (usually between 5 and 15 minutes), and daydreaming, and thinking about whether that RV that's just about to pass you is further than 3CM from your elbow, the usual clearance. Even logging trucks are better.

Okay, my legs are cramping from sitting down for so long, so I'll sign off by telling you about this wonderful group of bikers we stayed with last night. It was a bike ride for charity, The Arthritis Foundation -- 6 days down the OR coast, about 50 riders, each one raising $2500 for the foundation. This ride was FULLY supported, complete with traveling porter potties AND a hot shower truck -- that's right, a truck with hot showers in it. Amazing. We met them just before we camped, and they invited us to share their camp, company, and FOOD. Cooked by chefs. Amazing, again.

Okay, good riding people. This is Jess, signing off!

Pictures from the World Travels!

Hello blog followers,

Please excuse the extra blogging this week, but there's so much to do and say before I leave -- it's kinda epic, really :).

This post serves to introduce, for the first time on the web, video montages of the pictures from my and World Traveler Kirschner's trip around the world! You can find them at the links below:

Part 1 (Japan through Nepal): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7S59nJSUJfQ

Part 2 (Tibet through Greece): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9wRslUd_reA

Enjoy your viewing, and don't forget to see my previous post about my bike trip across the USA, which starts on Tuesday!

Hugs, Kisses, Puppies, and Rainbows (in the words of WTK),

Jess

The Wheel Keeps Turning, the Adventure Continues...

Welcome to the good ole' USA, home of Cheeses and Condiments... oh yeah, and freedom! Or, so I wish the sign had said in the airport, just after clearing customs (without even a single moment of interrogation) and prior to my first glimpse of the US in 13 months. Instead, I'm sure it warned me of impending doom of one nature or the other, or perhaps that picking my nose would be awfully inappropriate upon exiting the baggage claim area, or that, indeed, contact with livestock was inadvisable in foreign countries so if I had been silly enough to endanger myself by, say, petting a cow, I was to notify the nearest security officer for disinfecting (as if I, a savvy American, would do such a thing!).

Anyhow, I have indeed returned to the US -- I've been kicking it around the east coast for approximately a month, driving way too much on my quest to see the majority of people I know prior to Sept 1st. Wait -- what significance is Sept 1st, you may ask? If you DO ask, you perhaps haven't been doing the appropriate amount of note taking whilst reading my blog, or your world does not revolve around me (as if)... :) ... but I'll forgive you, just this once, and use this opportunity (unique as it is) to formally announce my next adventure : Jess and Jon's cross-country bicycle trip (witty title to be formulated in the near future)!

Yes, indeed, you may have noticed the slightly different introduction to this blog, or perhaps have already browsed for pictures and noticed a rather small map with lots of little lines all over it, made larger by clicking upon it (something I would suggest as I explain a little more), and wondered, "What is that crazy Jess up to NOW?". So, in response:

I intend to ride my bike across the country, accompanied by my friend Jon (with whom I went to college for a year or two), in the next few months. We depart the east coast, by plane, bound for the beginning of our ride in Seattle. Starting Sept 1st, we will be biking down the west coast at a leisurely pace, training our leg muscles not to give out while going uphill and taking many breaks, since neither of us has ever ridden any significant distance before. By the end of Sept, we intend to be in Sacramento (one way or another), where I will attend the martial arts Gathering (seminar) that I've gone to numerous years in the past -- accompanied by my favorite World Traveling companion, Ms. Emily Kirschner. Following the Gathering, we start across the country, into Utah; head south, around the edge of the Grand Canyon, to Phoenix; and across the southern tier of the US, bound for N Florida (or as far as we make it) by the middle of December, upon which time I will return to Lewisburg for a few months and Jon will... well, he's not quite sure yet, but heck, that's a long time away and it'll all come together by then, I'm sure.

Oh, this all corresponds to the little lines on the lovely map below, so please click and follow along: From Seattle, we head over to the start of the Pacific Coast Trail (turquoise), which takes us all the way to San Francisco. From there, we pick up the Western Express (red), which after a brief pause in Sacramento we take all the way to Cedar City, Utah. The Grand Canyon Connector (green) takes us down to Phoenix, where we hook up with the Southern Tier (brown) which takes us -- hopefully -- all the way to Pensacola, FL. For a clearer view, I'd suggest a brief side-trip to www.adventurecycling.org where you can view each route separately.

(click on me to make me bigger)

So, that's the plan. Jon and I intend to blog again, ideally more frequently than this last adventure, so keep an eye here. And, as it's all starting pretty soon, I'd love for you to have a role in all of this galavanting: so a request! Jon and I need places to sleep -- homes of friends and family across the country -- and suggestions of places to visit on our long, long ride. So, if you think you've got a useful contact or suggestion, I'd love to hear it -- drop me a line at jess.p.scott(at)gmail.com, and we'll chat! As always, I'm eternally grateful for any help you can provide, and for your unending support and wonder.

There's more to come on this blog in the next week, including (hopefully) a link to a little musically-accompanied video of photos from the first half of my trip (depending on how productive I am) and a few notes wrapping up my year+ abroad, and how I feel about being back in the states. Pass this blog around to biking (and non) friends of yours -- Jon and I need lots of advice, and would love to have this blog introduce us into some biking communities/networks, and (perhaps) serve as an introduction itself for those wannabe bikers (like us) who want to get out there.

With love, and anticipation, I sign off, and wish you all the best!

WTJ (a new nickname to come in the near future)

South Africa, and home!

Ladies and gents, a quick note from a mildly bashful world traveler:

I love South Africa. Now, I believe my opinion on everything, from public transportation to the quality of food to the English language is entirely biased by the fact that I've spent most of a year in absentia from most of these things... but WOW. Cheese and wine? Ham sandwiches? Dare I say, chicken burrito and nachos? Oh, and busses/trains that have schedules that are actually followed, and coffee shops that serve cute little lattes in cute little mugs, and (wonder of all wonders) menus and street signs that I can actually read!!!

Yes, friends, yours truly, the seasoned, hardened world traveler who would rather sleep in a bed that smells slightly of cat than pay $2 more for a nicer hotel room... has been ever-so-slightly (ok, head over heels) charmed by the wonders of modern cities. With slight embarrassment, I admit, I have been drinking aforementioned lattes at least 2x a day, sitting in little window fronts watching people with a little voice providing commentary inside my head: "Wow, so that's what a fashionable person looks like (mental note: boots and tights)" and "Look at all the white people (mental note: can't say that out-loud anymore)!" and "I wonder how long I can sit here before they kick me out (mental note: yep, 5 more minutes)?"

So, yes, I'm very much enjoying my time in S Africa. After a week spent in Johannesburg, hanging out with a girl I met while working in Greece, I flew down to Cape Town and have been absolutely eating up this adorable city and surrounding suburbs. (About that flying, lest you think I'm getting lazy [or, more generously, classy] in my old-traveling-age, I DID try the bus and the train first, only to find out they were sold out of economy class train tickets -- I will take the economy class back to JoBurg -- and flying was actually CHEAPER than sitting on a bus for 19 hours. Which after the 36 hour bus-ride-from-hell that was my trip from Malawi just wasn't going to happen.) So, back to what I've been doing in CT, I spent a day wandering around the bookshops, cafes, and fish-and-chip-eries of Kalk Bay a lovely seaside town, after visiting the penguins (cute!!!) down on the coast. I spent another day on a lovely wine and cheese tour of Stellenbosch and surrounding areas, accompanied/led by one of my best Couchsurfing hosts ever, a lovely woman names Svea. who I stayed with for the past few days. Another day I wandered around the Botanical Gardens (I am going to make the best old person, I've decided, since I already have such a love for little manicured gardens with information tablets and knitting and tea and going to bed early after watching the evening news and well balanced meals and sweaters...) and Cape Town center and waterfront. Which brings me to today, a day to be spent looking at the nice view from my new CSer's place and planning my assault on Table Mountain tomorrow (to be completed by cable car if I can't find anyone to hike with me). Saturday I start that 27 hour train ride back to Joburg, and Monday...

I leave to come home!! Friends, marking my 13th month-i-versary, I shall be embarking on a more-than-24hour long trip to return to the USA (via Cairo). I'm excited, nervous, unsure what to expect. and a number of other emotions I can't seem to pin down. My former WT companion Em has given me a little insight as to what to look forward to, since she did this a few weeks back, but I can honestly say that I expect the experience of being back and seeing all you wonderful people to be like nothing I've done before... and I'm super-stoked to get it underway. I knew that as soon as I bought a ticket, those few weeks back in Malawi, I would be extremely focused on my departure date (honestly, I don't know how WTK held out for so long after knowing when she'd be back)... and it's true, I've been struggling to maintain a connection to this world-traveler thing since knowing that I'd be leaving this lifestyle (a hiatus, not permanently, of course) in less than a month. I figured, well, if it was going to be over so soon, why not NOW... and kept figuring that. My final month was split into such clear sections, and so few of them... that it was so easy to focus on that ending sequence of trips before The Flight...

But anyway, here we are. I'm almost finished with this stage in my travels, I'm excited to see all of my friends and families... and I'm relieved that I have another adventure planned only a month after I get back. Because I can't see myself settling down quite yet (surprise surprise), and think it's about time that I give the states some of this wanderlust energy. Plus, I'm going to gain like 12 kilos eating everything I haven't seen in over a year, including sushi and American breakfast, and I'm going to need this long-ass bike trip to work it all off.

I'll be embarking on a rather ambitious series of phone calls when I get home, so if you want to be on the list, drop me an email with your number since I don't have any anymore!

Lots of love, and see you on the flipside...

WT Scott

Another blog post? I must be bored :)

A bit of news from Malawi (yes, I'm still in Malawi):

Next time I have a speech or other sort of oral presentation to practice, preferably in a foreign language, I now know that all I need to do is buy a bus ticket.

Which is really quite ingenious, and I'm surprised it hadn't occured to me before -- but trust those budding Malawian preachers to come up with all the best ideas.

See, as I was riding the bus the other morning -- the bus, mind you, that I had gotten up at 6am to catch, the bus that was destined to take me to Lilongwe, the capital of this wonderfully pretty country -- a young man stood up, a very well dressed man (by Malawian standards), in a gray suit, clutching a rather ratty looking book with no cover. Before I even knew what was happening, the Peace Corps (PC) volunteer sitting next to me cut himself off in mid-sentence and bowed his head, causing me to look around curiously and notice all the other bowed heads on the bus. Which brought my attention back to the rather interesting spectacle of the well-dressed man standing in the aisle, holding on to the backs of two seats so as not to go flying through the bus, who had chosen just this moment to switch from the local, national language of Chichewa into his obviously second language, English, and lead the whole bus in a God-fearing prayer.

Assuming this would be it -- one prayer, asking God to save us from the maniacal driving tendencies Malawian's in charge of large public transportation vehicles, and other such requests -- I waited patiently, taking note of a few key facts later to be confirmed in mere moments:
1) We (the PC volunteer and myself) were the only white people on the bus (typical occurence). Therefore, the only possible reason the man had chosen to preach in English was for our... benefit. For, unless you are ultra-bwana (as the PC volunteer was fond of saying -- basically a Malawian who has seen way, way too much American TV), your English (as a Malawian) is probably not up to par (as the preacher insisted on proving).
2) This man was a genious! He had guaranteed himself the perfect audience for the perfection of his sermon -- a captive audience, literally -- who's only possible method for not listening was to talk over him (Malawians, being very polite, unwilling to do this) or to jump out the window. Brilliant -- a method of public speaking I had never before considered (trapping your audience), but will use extensively from now on.

Anyhow, after the prayer, which thanked God for protecting both Malawians and people from England (a common assumption, according to the whispered commentary of my PC friend), the budding Malawian preacher launched into a sermon (continuing in his inferior second language) about, as I understood it, budgeting for your life. I assume that he did not specifically mean "budgeting" (I gave my life $12 and moved on rather quickly, hoping he'd then tell me what to do with my new budget) and perhaps meant "planning"; I also assume that his accusation that, while we all planned things like taking a bus trip (a decision I will consider rather strongly in the future) and buying clothes, none of us had planned to be alive, was not meant as something we should be ashamed of, necessarily, just something we should fix as soon as possible (though I beg to differ: I spent numerous years as a small ovum lobbying to be allowed to begin my journey toward zygote-ism, as did my PC friend, though from the perspective of an over-anxious tadpole).

So, as you might assume, I was mildly confused (and I'm sure all the others on the bus were as well, as they couldn't actually understand what he was saying), but luckily the young preacher repeated his main arguments ("You have not planned to be alive" "You must make an acceptable budget (implied: $12 is not acceptable)" "Somehow this involves God, though I'll be sure not to clarify how, and won't actually mention the Big G until my closing sentence") and eventually sat down, after providing what seemed to me to be a rather brief summary of his entire sermon in Chichewa, to the obvious relief of the others on the bus.

So, needless to say, I forgot all about this sermon moments later and spent a lovely 6-7 hours talking to my new friend, learning much about the Peace Corps and the VSO (UK's version of the PC) and figuring out just what I'd do once I got to the bustling metropolis of Lilongwe (list: walk to 3 different places to stay before finding one that was vacant, go to Shop-Rite, use the internet, dream about Chinese food). Which basically summarizes my 3-day stay in the capital, adding only the pleasant surprises of finding strawberries and tiramisu-flavored gelato (thought about you, WTK)!!

My Dutch friend Rian had left to head back up to Tze the day before this trip to Lilongwe, and I suppose I'll backtrack and give you the highlights of our last 5 days together. We left Nkatha Bay by ferry, heading to Ruarwe, a lovely port on the lake north of where we had been staying, but south of Mushroom Farm. We got up early to catch this ferry -- 6am, again -- only to wander down to the port area and discover that, due to bad weather, it was delayed somewhere between 2 to 5 hours. Luckily (?), no one could tell us exactly how long it would be delayed, or even how long after arriving it would stay in port (between 15 minutes and 2 hours) before heading north... so we set up camp in a little cafe overlooking the port, ate sandwiches, played Scrabble and Jenga and alternately put on warmer clothing and discarded warmer clothing as the temperature kept changing with the rain, and waited... until 1pm, when the ferry actually left. A rather uneventful 6-ish hours took us to Ruarwe, an otherwise inaccesable (except by walking,) little fishing village and home of Zulukhuni (or Zukuluni, or Zuhukluni, or something) River Lodge, formally called "Wherearewe?" Lodge, a much better name, if you ask me (which they obviously didn't). Anyway, other than Matt, the owner, and a slew of Malawian workers, we were the only people there, and we spent a glorious 5 days doing absolutely nothing. Well, I suppose we ate, swam, read, played Monopoly Cards, and sunned ourselves, but you get the picture. No electricity meant we were in bed soon after it got dark (one memorable evening we stayed awake until 930pm (!!) engrossed in a Monopoly Card Tournament), and awake with the light of the morning, which is really a great way to live.

So, over the few days we were there, we had considered our options for leaving. Rian had to get back to Tanzania to fly home by yesterday, the ferry didn't come back through (heading south) until 8 days after we had arrived, and the next town, from where we could catch a matola (open-backed 8-wheeled pick-up truck) to Mzuzu and onward transport from there, was an estimated 3-4 hour walk away. We opted for the last option, and on the designated morning, paid a young Malawian to canoe our bags to Usisya (the town) while we set off walking.

Well, 3-4 hours later, we were nowhere near Usisya. We thought we were getting closer -- walking on a coastal path, we could always see Usisya, just around the next bend -- but somehow we never reached it. Glad that we were not carrying our own bags, we stumbled on, past drying piles of cassava (which smells like old butter popcorn that someone has left sitting in the sun) and large stocks of smoked fish (smells like large stocks of smoked fish), until, somewhere between 6-7 hours after we left, we reached Usisya and dragged ourselves down to our rest house and collapsed in our beds, exhausted. We had learned previously, but were loathe to believe, that this matola we were planning to catch left at 2am the next morning, and when this fact was confirmed (to our dismay) we immediately set about eating and sleeping, in bed with the lights off no later than 830pm.

2am rolled around, and we (along with about 30 others and all of their bags of rotten-popcorn cassava and baskets of smelly fish and babies and whatever else they were bringing to sell at market (clarification: they were not selling the babies, to Rian's disappointment, as she was infatuated with their little cute selves and really wanted to bring one home) ) climbed into the back of this open truck and set off on the 4 hour journey to Mzuzu. Uneventful as such a journey can be in the dark on bad roads with pregnant women displaying all the symptoms of morning sickness directly next to your feet and your bum falling asleep only to be rudely awakened by the next jarring bump in the road... we arrived just past 6am in Mzuzu, grabbed some breakfast, and I saw Rian off. The poor girl was going all the way to Tanzania that same day, a trip that took her until dark that evening (more than 16 hours of travel that started at 2am), while I was destined to go sleep until 1pm and then putter around Mzuzu aimlessly until the next morning's trip to Lilongwe.

Which, I suppose, brings me full circle. Except that, after Lilongwe, I hopped on another long bus ride to Blantyre, where I had heard (and have since confirmed) that I can catch a direct bus to Johannesburg -- the easiest, quickest, and (probably) cheapest method of getting to South Africa. The plan was to catch a bus this morning, but I've managed to come down with some sort of traveler's sickness (I was hoping for dysentery, but I think I'm starting to get better so it's apparently nothing too exciting) and so I'm putting off the 30-hour bus ride until Saturday. I'm looking forward to getting down to SA -- relative "civilization", if you define civilized as anywhere with fully-stocked grocery stores and timetables for public transportation (which I do, so no bad intentions towards the rest of sub-Saharan Africa when I use that term), and getting the chance to see some people who I've met earlier on this trip.

And, to close, I'm back in the states on July 20th! I arrive in NYC, will be up in Keene on the 21st, and then am heading directly to ME to visit my grandfather. I'll be back in Keene to stay for a few days after ME, and then will head down to Lewisburg, via some selected stops on the east coast. The rest of my plans will continue as previously noted, with a more complete road trip to commence in August. I'm so looking forward to being back (my first three meals: Bagel and Cream Cheese, Sushi, American Breakfast), and to seeing all of your wonderful faces!

Lots of love from Malawi -- and pictures to come from South Africa, as it's the only place I have any chance of uploading photos!

-WT Scott

Escape from Tanzania, and more

Hello from Malawi!

As it rapidly approaches the one year traveling anniversary of myself and World Traveler Kirschner (4 days from today!!!), I wanted to start this blog by thanking all of you people out there in the world. You, who have remained loyal to the blogging, even though I write less than once a moon cycle; you, who have given your constant support and well wishes; yes, even you, who laughed at our unfortunate water-drinking episode in India, and then still sent us cameras over the winter. You have made being away from home easy (and, please, I mean that in the best way possible) – knowing that I have such wonderful, caring friends and family sending love daily and sharing in our adventures has only increased the enjoyment of this past year on the road. Thank you all, from the bottom of my heart.

And to my one and only world-traveling companion, WTK– we made it! Big Fat Oprah Tits, WTK – when we landed in Tokyo, and waited in that pouring rain for hours; when we ate kethcupy-chicken-ham sandwiches on the Great Wall and dreamt of BLTs; when we achieved freedom on the train in India, and drank way too much vodka in Tbilisi – did you imagine, in your wildest dreams, what greatness we could achieve?! Me in Malawi, you in (or on your way to Berlin) – and all the adventures in between (read ‘em at ekirschner.blogspot.com! You rock, Face – and it better be ice cream splits in 4 days, not just some half-melted sandwich deal. Love ya!

So, now into the saga of the past however-long-it’s-been since I last wrote. Did I mention that I can’t keep track of time while traveling? Especially in Africa – the only days I wear a watch are days when I have to catch a train/bus at some prescribed time, and I really only wear it as a hopeful gesture since I know that “punctuality” has no actual meaning here. It’s good to live by the sun – wake up early, go to bed when it’s dark, and eat whenever the urge strikes me (quite often, I’m afraid). As for days of the week – well, I spent most of last week thinking it was definitely Tuesday, and then as soon as Tuesday came around again I thought it was Sunday for a few days and was convinced the post office wasn’t open. By the time I realized it wasn’t Sunday, it was Saturday, and the post office was actually closed.

Anywho, I’m in Malawi. That’s a little country between Tanzania, Mozambique, Zambia, and Zimbabwe, with a huge portion of its eastern coast taken up by the aptly-named Lake Malawi. It felt good to be leaving Tanzania, as I had spent 6 weeks there (albeit all in the company of great friends, both new and old, and 8 days on Zanzibar to boot). I’m currently in Nkatha Bay, staying at a lovely little spot called the Butterfly Lodge with a new friend called Rian, who I met a few days ago at the Mushroom Farm near Livingstonia. Now, to backtrack slightly...

I spent a bunch of days prior to leaving Tanzania in the company of a great CSer, Tamara, who teaches at an international school in Dar es Salaam. We ate delicious Thai food twice (twice), making this one of my most culinarily (and interpersonally) pleasurable CSing experiences to date. (If, after all this time, you have yet to check out this Couchsurfing thing I do, take a second to visit www.couchsurfing.org and have a gander – it’s a highly worthwhile way to spend a few minutes. I’d also suggest joining up, but I’ll leave that one up to you). I also spent those 8 aforementioned days on Zanzibar, meeting up with one of zee Germanszz who made an earlier appearance as caravan companions, accompanying the Swedes and I in their massive truck as we drove through Kenya. I made some headway in the development of beach volleyball skills, and spent an extraordinary amount of time trying to explain why the entire 5’2”of me can’t possibly ever succeed in spiking a volleyball, so people should stop expecting it of me.

I departed Dar on a train, southward bound for Mbeya and Malawi. This was a slightly daunting undertaking, since this train is better known for breaking down and taking upwards of 3 days to make it the estimated 24-28 hours to Mbeya than it is for actually getting to Mbeya (and then onward to Zambia). However, approximately 26 hours after we left Dar we arrived in Mbeya (wonder to behold, I’ll tell you), and I spent the evening in the company of another new friend, Netta, who would journey down to Malawi with me.

The next day, bright and early, we set off for the border, an estimated 70KM away – took us 3 hours in a dala-dala. We crossed the border, took a taxi 45 minutes into Karonga, Malawi, and then yet another mini bus to Chitimba (90KM, 2 hours). By early afternoon, we were sitting under a tree with two Japanese people from the train, waiting for a ride up a mountain. We were heading to Mushroom farm, a little bush-forest retreat 10KM uphill (15KM uphill was Livingstonia), and were hoping to hitch a ride up in any passing transportation. Lucky for us, barely 90minutes passed before a pick-up truck, hauling a few ladders, turned off the highway onto our little mountain road, eliciting excited clambering and waving (not that he could have possibly missed spotting us, 4 non-Africans and our collective pile of shtuff). We got a very bumpy ride up to Mushroom Farm, and I immediately fell in love.

No, it wasn’t a boy, I’m afraid. It was with Mushroom Farm, and its stunning view over the lake and northern Malawi; its home-cooked meals supplemented by freshly-grown produce; the solar electricity and composting toilets; and the intelligent, friendly Aussie (Mick) who ran the place. This is also where I met Rian, who’s blog I highly suggest reading for a fuller picture of the Mushroom Experience and the characters involved, because frankly I’m too lazy to type it all myself (Rianinafrika.reislogger.nl she’s Dutch, so use Google Translate). Let it be said that I never knew that so much fun could be had before 730pm, and that a party of 5 (though dedicated) people could cause such a bad hangover the next day. Of course, lest you think it was all just fun and games, I also took the opportunity to hike up to a beautiful nearby-ish plateau, followed the next day (that of my departure, sadly also that of the hangover) by walking the 10KM back to Chitimba, all for funsies. The next day I spent hobbling around on my very, very sore legs, also for funsies. For future note, I’d like to come back to Mushroom Farm again in the relatively-near future, and am even considering managing the place for a while while Mick goes traveling. We shall see.

Rian and I traveled together to Nkatha Bay yesterday, I had my first swim in the lake, and now we’re finally at today! I think I’ll stay here for a week before moving on, but perhaps for longer – I’m living day-to-day, the best way to do it (in my opinion), and have no plans beyond eating a delicious sandwich later.

Though, I suppose that’s not entirely true. For those of you who have actually made it this far, the reward is thus: you get to know my future plans! Later today, or perhaps tomorrow, but definitely in the next few days, I will be purchasing my return ticket home. While it frightens me to make such an irreversible decision, I believe I will return to NYC on July 20^th (plus or minus a day or two). Following a week in Lewisburg, during which I will design some sort of wicked awesome multimedia summary of my trip to be posted on the WWW, I will depart on an epic east coast roadtrip, designed to make a stop in every major place on/near the eastern seaboard where YOU reside. I shall (fingers crossed) be accompanied on this roadtrip by John, my more-than-just-friend (and future housemate) from Lewisburg. So, mark your calendars, let me know where you’ll be between the 27^th of July and 14^th of August (you know my email address), and let the countdown commence!

Love and kisses to all you people out there. This is WT Scott, signing off to go get a samosa. Peace.

11 Months on the Road!

Hello, friends!
Well, after 11 months on the road, and particularly the past 3 weeks in Mwanza, I’ve come to a few conclusions about the world. I’d like to take this unique opportunity to share them with you – so sit back, and be prepared to be amused.
Conclusions number 1 and 2 come from recent experiences inspired by my “good friend” Liz in Mwanza, Tanzania. Certain activities that women often do together inspire both conclusions, and while I’m not making any value judgements about friends who suggest either of these activities to other friends, I invite you to read the following stories and judge for yourself.

Story # 1: Liz and Jess decide to get bikini waxes at Liz’s prompting. The relevance of this story to my important world conclusion will become clear -- so bear with me. In case you (like Jess) are blissfully ignorant of this procedure, consider the following analogy, designed to adequately represent our experiences:

Imagine you are a naked mole rat. As a naked mole rat (NMR), you take pride in your nudity, and over the years you’ve become tired of the maintenance of remaining naked. For, folks, a naked mole rat was not born hairless, as all other mole rats (specifically the male ones) like to imagine. They are constantly plucking unsightly hairs from behind their ears – a task made exceedingly difficult by the fact that they’re blind and lack opposable thumbs, not to mention by the excessively inadequate equipment for such delicate hair removal.

Well, one day while chatting with your “good friend” who we’ll call Wiz, she mentions that she too has become tired of the same ole’ routine. Wiz knows of a place, though, that will take all the pain out of unsightly hair removal (these are her words, mind you – or squeaks, since we’re NMRs). There are other NMRs there with years and years of experience removing hair from behind one’s ears, and the procedure is dirt cheap (pardon the pun). Many of your joint NMR friends swear by the procedure, Wiz reassures you, and after a brief moment of waffling you decide to join her at her next appointment.

Well, off you scurry to the nearest salon, where you place your orders and flop down to wait for the next available practitioner. While you’re flipping through magazines (a pointless pursuit since you’re blind, but apparently it’s what you do at this sort of place), your friend Wiz disappears behind a curtained partition with an NMR of gentle, smiling demeanor. She emerges approximately 20 minutes later, and assures you that the unsightly hairs behind her ears were successfully removed and that she will remain blissfully hairless for weeks to come, and that now it’s your turn! Excited for this simple procedure, designed to save YOU the trouble of hair removal in hard to reach places, you proceed behind the curtain with the smiling NMR attendant.

You are asked to lie as still as possible, and the attendant heats up a bowl of a mixture quite similar to honey mixed with beeswax mixed with tar. Before you know what’s happening, she has shmeared this mixture on your unsightly ear hairs (with only a few perfunctory cooling blows), has put a piece of paper onto the cooling, viscous mixture, and has RIPPED THE HAIRS OUT BY THE ROOT. Now, it’s been a little while since you last removed the hairs yourself (you’ve been busy, you haven’t been going out much, etc etc), and there are quite a number to deal with. And she just RIPPED them (THE HAIRS) OUT BY THE ROOT. And you have to go through approximately 20 more applications of this procedure, without emitting so much as a little squeak because your “good” friend Wiz didn’t seem to mind so much.

Let’s leave this analogy, because we now have enough background to understand Conclusion 1, which I informed Liz of at a retrospectively louder volume than I probably should have immediately following my emergence from behind the curtained partition, causing her to erupt in laughter. This conclusion is:

1. Prior to engaging in a bikini wax, patients must first view another woman undergoing the procedure and sign a release form indicating their willingness to continue.

We feel like this is one way to reduce the unnecessary pain and suffering undergone by women whose “good friends” convince them it’s a good idea to get bikini waxes. We also think that this should be the title of an Onion article commenting on the recent absurd abortion regulations in OK. Jess also feels like the Geneva convention should outlaw this practice as an obvious application of torture, but that’s just her.

Story #2: Liz has been living in Mwanza for the past year, and so has become aware of the great variety of activities available for any one evening’s entertainment. She has mentioned one particular activity in connection with the words “fun”, “exciting”, “dance”, “not too hard”, and “big mamma”. This activity, as you might have guessed, is Tanzanian Step Aerobics.

What? What’s that? You don’t associate Step Aerobics with any of these words? Well, perhaps that’s because you haven’t spent quite as much time in Tanzania as Liz (or Jess). Perhaps I should have been wary of her judgement after the experience we just discussed, but after 2 weeks of hearing about this exercise practice, I gave in and agreed to go. What could be so bad, I thought? Apparently both men and women participate in this activity, and it’s led by an extremely muscular 5’3” tall Tanzanian man who tends to shout sentences such as “Hakula chakula” (don’t eat food) “Hapana chipsi na kuku” (no fries and chicken) and “Hapana mafuta mingini” (not a lot of oil) -- which to me suggested that it couldn’t possibly be too difficult. Plus, Liz added, big mammas often engage in this practice, and in Tanzania big mammas are BIG – if they could make it through the 90 minutes of mild physical exertion, so could I (I assumed). Liz, of course, encouraged this feeling of capability, adding that it was “really fun” and that I should bring water in case of mild thirst.

As we drove toward Aerobics, the story started to change in ways that I was not entirely comfortable with. First, I’d have to ensure not to breathe in too deeply, due to the lack of underarm deodorant in Tanzania and the propensity of big mammas to extremely odorous sweating. Second, often times the moves would become so difficult that you’d have to stop, re-gather your wits around you, and launch back in – but everyone else would be continuing on, oblivious of the extreme difficulty you faced, because they’d all been doing this for years. Finally, she mentioned, we’d probably be the only wazungu (white people) there, ensuring that, as I tripped over my own feet, I would be the center of attention (and ridicule by the instructor, it turned out) at all times.

But we were already there, so what the hell. I paid the requisite $1.75 (I seem to have a thing about paying for torturous experiences in Tanzania), and we launched in with high-intensity stretching. Now, I managed to get placed directly behind the biggest mama in the room, who incited much yelling and pointing by the instructor-from-hell, transferring his attention to my portion of the room, where, upon realizing I was being observed, I would immediately trip over my own feet and get yelled at in rapid fire Kiswahili – or, on one memorable occasion, caused him to join me on my 20 inch long wooden step in a misplaced attempt to allow me to follow his steps – which instead resulted in my stepping on his toe and still having no idea what was going on since he was BEHIND ME. The muscle-bound midget also had a propensity for shouting “FIVESIX” and “SEVENEIGHT” at random times that had no relation at all to the number of times we had stepped over our box with alternating feet, which had the result of causing me to step on my own toes in fear when he did it from directly behind me. After about 40 minutes of this, half the class (including my big mamma) left – but my “good friend” Liz continued on, seeming to skip over her box with the ease of a winged fairy creature – and so, knowing beyond all doubt that there was no way I was going to survive the other half of the class, I continued to drag my hambone thighs up and down in exciting kicking motions, refusing to fail.

This continued for 40 more minutes, followed by a “cool down” session of high-intensity stretching, followed by my immediate collapse into a chair, chugging of a liter of water, and termination of my friendship with Liz. For, as conclusion number 2 suggests:

2. Friends don’t let friends do Tanzanian Step Aerobics. In retrospect, I should have been much more wary of anything with the same initials as TSA (notorious for forcing you to go through increasingly embarrassing, difficult, and sometimes painful procedures in the name of “safety and security”, or “fitness and health”). I was convinced I was going to die twice.

Now, lest you worry, our friendship was reinstated that evening, when Liz bought me chipsi na kuku for dinner and let me drink beer. It was delicious. Take that, angry Tanzanian Aerobics guy.

This officially ends Story #2, and I just realized that I don’t really have any other conclusions to share with you right now, which might leave you hanging just a little bit. However, lest you feel as though something is missing, I shall fill you in on my plans as-of-tomorrow-morning prior to my departure from this blog.

Tomorrow morning, at the arse-crack of dawn (6am), I board a bus bound for Arusha. This is where I was based during my semester abroad in 2007, and so I’m looking forward to a long weekend of reminiscing. I’ll be staying with, and meeting, fellow Couchsurfers while there, so it’s bound to be a good time. I’d like to take this moment to thank my recently-reinstated friend Liz and her lovely fiancé Ryan for their hospitality over the past 3 weeks – I love you guys, and your strange partiality toward suckling cats.

On Tuesday morning (most likely), I’ll take another unnecessarily early bus out to Dar es Salaam on the coast, where I will stay with another CSer for a few days before heading out to Zanzibar, the Spice Island, for a few days of R&R. I plan to meet up with some friends on the island, possibly stay with yet another CSer, and enjoy myself some fresh seafood. Following Zanzibar, I’ll head south by a yet-to-be-determined route, but probably straight down the coast to Mozambique for yet more time eating seafood (most notably lobsters, which I hear are dirt cheap in Moz) prior to making my way to (and through) S Africa.

I’d like to end this blog with another shout out to my most wonderful fellow World Traveler, WT Kirschner, who is apparently lost after trying to walk from her WWOOFing gig on a random farm in Italy to Florence. Once she emerges from this walk, I’m sure that she will have stories for us – so check them out on ekirschner.blogspot.com! Happy 11 months, Em Face – I miss you!

Love to all of you wonderful people out there! This is WT Jess, signing off. Time to go buy another t-shirt!

Where, Why, and What Next??

Hello faithful readers, and happy May! I just realized that Cinco De Mayo is my half-birthday, so I hope you all celebrate with chips, salsa, and a toast to my health as I hit 24 ½ years old. Cheers!

Where in the world IS Carmen Sandiego? While I may not be wearing a red leather jumpsuit, and may not be fighting crime, I’ve still been asked this question a lot lately, and so here I am, writing to update you. However, this post is going to be a little different. It won’t be entirely place focused – in fact, beyond the first paragraph, none of it will be place focused. I’m hoping that THIS post will be unique in that is will leave you with a little bit more insight into the thoughts which occupy my mind while I travel. While you get a picture of many of the pieces of thought that influence my decisions, I’ve not taken the time to discuss any of them implicitly. I’ll take that chance now, as well as giving you a picture of my plans for post-travel. So, sit back, grab a beer, and let your eyes get to work – you’ve got a lot to get through!

A summary of where I am and how I got here before I jump right in: I am in Mwanza, Tanzania, hanging out with my friends Liz and Jake. I was here in the spring of 2007 with both of them during a semester abroad in university (the trip that originally begat this blog). They both live and work here in some capacity currently, and I’m planning to spend about a month here visiting, writing, reflecting before I move on.

I left the Swedes in Nairobi, after one of the most incredible drives that I’ve ever been on. We drove through the savannah, the desert, oasis’ to leave Ethiopia; we entered Kenya at a place with no border posts, and kept driving. We met up with overlanding Germans whom we had met earlier, and created a little caravan (check their stories and pictures at www.afrikatruck.de) . Picking up two hitchhiking backpackers, we bush camped for 3 days in a row since there were no towns around. Arriving in Nairobi, we got our official “in-stamps” for Kenya 6 days after we actually entered the country… and we all departed the next day; the Swedes for Mombasa and myself on an overnight bus to Mwanza, Tanzania.

I want to take a minute to thank the Swedes, Bjorn and Mikael, for an incredible month of travelling together. We shared some amazing experiences and landscapes that, without the benefit of their super-loaded land crusier, I never would have had the chance to see. I feel lucky to have shared such an important part of my travels with them, and have learned so much from their willingness to share their view of the world with me as we went through some interesting places and experiences. After a month spent in the presences of Swedes, it’s impossible to think that I won’t visit Sweden in the very near future – and perhaps even live there, if it’s as cool as they say it is. So, Bear and Hamster, a shout-out to both of you – thanks for the wonderful time, and I count myself lucky to be able to call you my friends.

So, now the meaty (or tofu-y) part of this post, the part I succinctly summarized in the opening of my note to you. I’ve travelled from Tel Aviv, Israel to Mwanza, Tanzania since leaving Athens on February 2^nd! It’s a crazy part of the world to have crossed so quickly, and to think that I was planning on crossing it in less time that it has taken proves that I had no idea what to expect along the way. Which is the best part of travel, and particularly of travelling alone -- the completely blank slate, the lack of expectations, the ability to spend a week here, a day here, an hour here, and then 3 weeks in another place. I have complete freedom to do whatever I want, whenever I want – and it’s marvellously refreshing to be able to live simply, day to day. Many of my choices on whether to stay in one place or to move on are based on people whom I encounter and with whom a deep rapport quickly develops – on the relationships I form while on the road.

Relationships are strange things in general (understatement of the century, and also cliché, but you know), and even stranger whilst travelling the world. I’ve mentioned my favourite poem of this trip in previous posts, Whitman’s “Song of the Open Road” – I’m going to try to use parts of it to better clarify some of the things I believe about travelling, my feelings while on the road, and things I’ve heard echoed by many a traveller. In reference to relationships, Whitman writes:

…Why is it I interchange so suddenly with strangers?

What with some driver, as I ride on the seat by his side?

What with some fisherman, drawing his seine by the short, as I walk by, and pause?

What gives me to be free to a woman’s or man’s good will? What gives them to be free to mine?

For some reason, when two travellers meet (and I mean something very specific by the word “traveller”, but for now you can just think of it as someone who’s like me or WT Kirschner), whether it’s for 2 days on a boat to Sudan, or for an unexpected 3 week stay in Dahab, I find that we are able to connect much more rapidly and on a deeper level than would be possible in the “real world”. It’s like you are given 100% freedom to be yourself, to be unconcerned with the judgements of others, and you know that that the other traveller will do the same. Neither of you have expectations, but it’s possible to become so close and to tell what were complete strangers things that your best friends don’t know. You don’t even mean to launch into particularly meaningful discussions, into dissections of the major decisions you’ve made in your most recent relationships, into the personal and private reasons you travel, into what you are running away from or to – but you immediately find that you share some of your deepest thoughts and emotions on the road with these other people. It’s so weird that someone can echo your deepest thoughts within moments of meeting you; it’s weird to hear your thoughts coming out of someone else’s mouth.

So, I’ve met many a traveller who echoes this feeling, this connection with other travellers that is unlike anything we’ve experienced before. Some have had experiences similar to mine; some knew things about parts of the world that I had never been to. Either way, meeting people has been the highlight of my trip. The thing I’ll remember in the future is not the 3 hours I spent walking around the pyramids; it’s the young local girl who tried to help us find a way to sneak over the wall into the pyramid complex, and who then laughed at us as we decided against it. It’s not the 17 hour boat ride to Sudan, where we got to see Abu Simbel from the boat; but, instead, the cool backpacker whose t-shirt represented a major political party in a few countries he had visited, and who was travelling for reasons very personal to him that he still felt able to share on a short walk to and from a local football game.

This is what means the most to me on this trip -- this complete freedom I feel to interchange with strangers, the deep connection we can develop in a seemingly disproportionate period of time; and, yes, the deep feelings of loss I feel after leaving this new travelling companion, though I had known them but an hour (or a day, or a week). But travel on I must, for what is the reason for our travels but to see more, experience more, express the true freedom to go wherever the winds take you?

My feelings about freedom as I travel are accurately summed up by the following stanza of Whitman:

From this hour, freedom!

From this hour I ordain myself loos’d of limits and imaginary lines,

Going where I list, my own master, total and absolute,

Listening to others, and considering well what they say,

Pausing, searching, recieiving, contemplating,

Gently, but with undeniable will, divesting myself of the holds that would hold me.

I love meeting people, of sharing and being proud of my unconventional method of living and seeing the world, of laughing at myself when I make silly choices, and of gently leaving everything that I become close to in search of something more. You learn lessons about yourself on the road that are often amusing, often clarifications of something you thought you knew before but with new meaning now. Another part of Whitman:

…The Soul travels;

The body does not travel as much as the soul;

The body has just as great a work as the soul, and parts away at last for the journeys of the soul.

I think this journey of the soul is the most important part of my travels. And that’s all I have to say about that just now.

*Changing topics, to consider what the future holds for Jess*

So, 10.5 months on the road. For those of you who knew my original travelling plans, you might be starting to wonder when I’m going back to the states, and the inevitable question: what next? Can I really stop travelling and settle down, or will I do this forever?

My plan is to be back in the states by the beginning of August. Between now and then, I’m going to get to S Africa (I may catch a World Cup game in Cape Town in late June), and then I’ll either fly to Europe for a month before coming home, or kick it around S Africa. Eventually, when I do get home, my plans are a little crazy. Firstly, I’m going to need to travel up and down the east coast seeing all of you people (D.C., NC, RI, NJ, CT, MA, NY, NH, ME, MD, OH are all states that are on my list, which is going to necessitate a large amount of driving around). This should take approximately a month, and needs to take only this long, because I’m planning a cross country bicycle ride which will begin in early September!

That’s right: Jess’s next adventure is going to be travelling across the US on 2 wheels. My good friend Jon and I will leave the east coast in early September, get out to northern California, and ride our bikes slowly down the coast, getting into shape for the major undertaking of biking from San Diego to somewhere out east. We’ll get from northern California to Sacramento by Sept 25^th , where we will pause for the weekend in order that I may attend the Kosho Gathering (martial arts seminar) that I’ve gone to for the past 10 years, barring last year. Then, we’ll start east. I expect our ride will take 2 months, give or take a week or two.

I’m excited by the prospect of travelling across the states because it won’t be difficult in terms of the actual day to day life stuff – eating, sleeping, water, language, toilets will be SO easy. I’m replacing the difficulty of travel itself with physical difficulty, and I think that’ll be an interesting challenge. If I hate it, the physical exertion part, I’ll probably think twice about through-hiking the Appalachian Trail (AT) next spring– but that’s for the future to figure out, of course, and I don’t expect I will hate it.

Hehehe… yes, I did just say through-hiking the AT, and threw it in there as if it was no big deal. For those of you that don’t know, the Appalachian Trail runs from GA to ME, and every year hundreds of thousands of people hike portions of it during spring break, summer vacation, winter hunting trips. Also every year, about 2000 people set off at the southernmost point of the trail sometime in March (or the northernmost point in June, though fewer attempt the hike N to S), and attempt to hike the entire 2200 miles (give or take) in one fell swoop. It takes between 4-6 months, and only about 10% of those who start out to hike the whole thing arrive at their perspective end points having accomplished this goal. I plan to give it my best shot, after working in Lewisburg for a few months between the end of the bike ride and March, 2011.

Originally, I had some friends on board to attempt the entire hike with me, including the friend Jon with whom I will be biking this fall. However, my plans have changed in relation to some thoughts I’ve been having during my past 2 months of “solo travelling”. I’ve realized that, the entire time that I’ve been travelling alone, ie without WT Kirschner, I haven’t actually been…alone. I had initially wanted the chance to experience what it was like to be off in the world by myself, and while I have had the chance to experience the freedom of being able to make decisions based purely on my own desires at any particular moment – a key part of travelling alone – I still haven’t lacked companionship, purposefully or accidentally, for any longer than a day. I’ve discovered that I love travelling like this – the ability to hook up with a pack of travellers for a day or two, to change my plans based on something that someone else is doing that sounds cool, and to leave when I get tired of being with those people (or when the winds of adventure call again – I rarely tire of the cool people I meet on the road) – it’s great! I don’t think that I want to be alone “out in the world” for more than a week or so – I can imagine laying on the beach in Mozambique, for example, and purposefully not seeking out the companionship of anyone else just for the chance to think and just be with myself. However, I like meeting people too much, and I am also happy avoiding the difficulty of figuring out every little logistical problem by myself – travelling doesn’t always have to be about maximizing the number of challenges you force yourself to face, I’ve found.

However, I want to do SOMETHING alone, partially to prove to myself that I can, and partially just to give my mind the space to do some serious thinking that isn’t influenced by other people’s reflections at that particular moment. And, thinking about the AT, I realize that’s the perfect opportunity. It’s not going to be particularly taxing scenery, so I won’t be distracted by the world around me at every turn – I hear it can even become monotonous, though this I doubt. I’ll be comfortable enough with being physically uncomfortable after the challenge of my bike ride, I assume. I’ll hit town every 5-7 days, get to reconnect with people, and then disappear for a while again. I love the thought of being left alone to my own thoughts and my own challenges for a week at a time – it sounds exciting.

And then, after the AT, I really want to go live abroad for a while, I think. In reality, however, I have no idea of my plans past the end of the AT, and I love that – the not knowing is exciting. It’s strange to me to have a plan that lasts until sometime next autumn, and I sometimes get a little weird about it and want to change my mind just because I’m not used to having this sort of stability that comes along with knowing what you’re going to do for more than the next day. But I think I can handle it.

So. How’s THAT for a blog post! I’m going to leave you all here, with a lot to think about and anticipating your comments, suggestions, and overall declarations of my insanity. I look forward to them, so don’t keep me hanging. As always, I love and miss all of you, thank you for your continuing support of my adventure of a lifetime, and can’t wait to see you when I get home.

Yours,

Jess

I think I'm Swedish, and other past musings

Note: This blog was written on the 18th of April, and only posted today. It's likely another post will come soon since some things have changed...

Well, world, it’s been a while, and I apologize. I’ve been on an interesting and fast paced adventure, and never have time to write more than a sentence or two before the internet shuts down or ceases to exist. So here’s a brief list of what I’ve been doing and how I’ve been doing it….

But first, a moment of seriousness before the blog descends into chaos, it's general state of existence. My family lost a very important member just before Easter: my Granny, Martha Boren. She passed away unexpectedly, and I was devastated to learn about this and be so far away and unable to be with my family as they remembered the wonderful woman that she was. She was always incredibly supportive of my sister and I as we pursued our dreams, taught us so much about being good, responsible people, and was right behind me every step of the way on this trip. I remember her now as I write to you, and know that she’s still here with all of us in memory and spirit. Please send some positive energy my Granddad’s way, as I do every day that I can’t be there. I love and miss you, Granddad.

Now, a complete switch of topics, to one much lighter and easier to type than that last paragraph was... How am I traveling, you ask? I met 3 Swedish overlanders in Dahab, Egypt: Bjorn, Mikael, and Perry. Overlanders travel overland (...) in superloaded 4x4 vehicles, carrying everything but the kitchen sink with them (and I even met one who had the kitchen sink, as well as a full sized stove... but musings on overlanders must be saved for another blog). They can go on roads public transportation doesn’t conquer, and they usually go from either N to S or S to N(Europe to Africa, typically). In this case, it’s Sweden to S Africa in just over 4 months – crazy!

Well, Thomas and I *(Thomas is a CSer I stayed with in Dahab Egypt) traveled with the Swedes until Cairo, and then they headed south toward the Sudanese border as I did not succeed in getting a visa for Sudan in Cairo and was planning to travel south, back to Cairo, and fly to Ethiopia. As it worked out, Thomas and I headed south at a slower rate, hitchhiking a little bit (extraordinarily hard in Egypt), hopping on a train (and almost getting kicked off), and eventually reaching Aswan (at the Sudanese border, which is a lake). I unexpectedly succeeded in getting a Sudanese visa in Aswan, and the once a week ferry to Sudan was leaving that same day… so Thomas and I decided to keep on traveling together and to meet the Swedes who were also on this ferry (they were not expecting us since WE were not expecting us and it was a joyous reunion). They were down to 2 by this time, Per having lost his passport in Aswan and having to return to Sweden to get a new one.

Thomas and I traveled with Bjorn and Mikael from Wadi Halfa in Sudan to Addis Abeba in Ethiopia, stopping along the way at some amazing places that I’ll list later. Due to irreconcilable differences and some drama that you can read a summary of if you’re so inclined on www.2cape.com (the Swede’s website, which they’ve been much more conscientious about updating and where you can read our joint travel stories if you use google translate), Thomas and I went our separate ways – me continuing on with the Swedes, and him staying in Addis.

Which brings me to now, in the town of Arba Minch in Ethiopia, planning to take the most difficult-and-westernmost route through Ethiopia to Kenya and hoping the roads are not washed out by roaring rivers (as we experienced yesterday). Not that the super-tricked out land cruiser, with, get this, 37INCH wheels can’t ford rivers (we did that yesterday) that no other vehicle would dare to cross – it even has a snorkel so that the engine keeps going even if it’s slightly submerged. I’m leaving the Swedes in Nairobi, and actually embarking on the first solo part of my adventure since I’ve been traveling “solo”, ie without my faithful traveling companion Emily. Which won’t last for very long (the solo bit), since I’m planning to meet up with some kids from my study abroad experience in Tanzania who are currently working there, primarily LIZ!!!, and spend a whole bunch of time there before heading further south.

Whew. Now, a quick summarized list of my major experiences since Dahab:

1. Got my Advanced Open Water SCUBA certification and did 8 dives in the red sea, including some of the best dives in the world (Blue Hole and Canyon).
2. Saw the Pyramids, Sphinx, and Egyptian Museum in Cairo.
3. Saw the Valley of the Kings and other tombs in Luxor.
4. Was in de’nile. Literally, dipped my toes in the Nile River.
5. Went to Aswan. Got Sudanese Visa.
6. Took a 17 hour long ferry across a huge man made lake to the Sudanese lake port of Wadi Halfa. Saw Abu Simbel from the ship as the sun rose.
7. Spent 4 days in Wadi Halfa unexpectedly as we all got sick and the boat with the car on it took a long time to arrive and be unloaded. Temperature: 42 degrees C!!!
8. Traveled 1000KM in one day from Wadi Halfa to Khartoum. Spent 2 or 3 days relaxing in Khartoum, preparing to leave before the elections began. Longest day yet.
9. Slept at the border between Sudan and Ethiopia. Literally, on the ground next to the car 10M from the borderpost. Ate canned tuna and corn. Don’t really like Tuna, as it turns out, but whatever. Total time in Sudan: under 1 week. Experience: Positive. More later.
10. Crossed into Ethiopia. Went to stay at Tim and Kim’s village on a beautiful lake for 3 nights. Had the cutest dogs, best hosts, and coolest project ever. Check it out online! Got sick again. Sighhhh.
11. Went up to Gondar. Stayed there for longer than we expected because Bjorn and Mikael’s camera got stolen. Sadly, not recovered.
12. Drove halfway to Simian Mountains National PArk, camped on the top of a gravel pile overlooking some stunning Ethiopian landscape. Made the most delicious dinner of cold kidney beans, salsa, feta cheese, corn, and tuna fish. Really, you HAVE to try it.
13. Visited Simian Mountains National Park. Saw tons of Gelada baboons – I was excited. Drove around for 6 or 8 hours, camped overnight, and returned to Gondar. Still no camera L.
14. Went to lalibella. Churches hewn out of stone from the 12^th century – amazing. Refused to pay 300Bir ($30) each to visit them. Snuck in, paid off a guard ($3), and got to see a bit of the church before he led us back to the ticket office, told on us, and we had to spend some time not getting arrested J. No problem, but left Lalibella that night. The drive was incredible.
15. Brief pause: there is a tiny lizard 3 inches from my foot. Cool.
16. Stopped somewhere I don’t remember… then went to Addis. Stayed at Wim’s House (you can also check this out online). Ate pizza and drank beers.
17. Came to Arba Minch. Staying in paradise (the place is called Paradise Lodge) for less than $10 a night.

That’s it for now, folks. Next blog is intended to be a little more about why I travel and the people I’ve recently met, and a little less about the stuff I’ve been doing. Or, at least more detailed so you don’t have to do all the work to find the places I’ve been. And I’d have posted pictures if I could get my external harddrive to work, but it needs a computer doctor, so please be patient!

Finally, a shout out to World Traveler Kirschner! It’s our 10 month traveling anniversary on the 19^th, and she’s off in the world on her own too! Don’t forget to check out her blog at ekirschner.blogspot.com… miss you!

Love to all,

Jess