Nature at Home

Today I’m sharing a piece written by my good friend Will Lake who’s also here at the Oregon Extension. Earlier in the semester we read Annie Dillard, a nature writer, and were asked to copy her style of writing and observation. We each trundled outside and found a spot to sit as still as possible (not very still in my case) for an hour. Then we trundled on back and wrote about our experience.

I loved Will’s piece especially because he connected the idea of nature as home to our family homes. We forgot how well taken care of we are, how much nature does for us. Will’s piece captures well the guilt and remorse I think we should feel for ignoring the nature that takes such good care of us. Without further adieu, here it is:

I come down the valley on the path to the creek. I feel foreign here, alien, in a sense. I feel like a stranger coming into a house at dark, or better, like coming back home after too long away. I stumble, rumble, bumble and fall. I break bushes, I have no heading, I see no path, I make a ruckus. I fall into the creek. My pants are wet, and I sit up on a mossy rock while my socks dry.

It feels like coming home, sort of. Yet, I feel like I never quite lived here. It’s almost like I’m coming to visit my grandma after much time has passed. If I see it in this way, nature is my grandma and her house is wilderness, and today, I am visiting gram at her house: I’ve been away for too long; it’s probably been years. I overlook her house, passing it twice on the street. The lights are on, and the door is always unlocked. I walk right in like I own the place – I mean, I certainly wouldn’t think to knock. I stumble in, bumbling, tripping, slipping on knick-knacks and ancient rugs, knocking a glass bell off the bell shelf on the way in. It shatters, but I don’t care. Besides, there’s a million of them. I sit down at the table on her hard-wooden chair. I find tremendous comfort in the steadfastness of my grandma’s house, like I want to roll in the nostalgia that surrounds me, breathing in the comforts of old – the things here that always have been and probably always will be: the box of toys my mom had, the same kitchen table with water bottles filled with rocks so the dog wouldn’t jump. Don’t forget the smell, oh the smell! Had she bought the same air freshener for 70 years? I find it all deeply familiar. Yet, it is heartbreaking to see the things that have changed and died. No more laughing of grandchildren, no more Christmas mornings with the whole family, no more pierogi from the polish deli down the street. I find joy and sadness all the while. I realize how deeply my life is intertwined IN this very house. My mother, after all, was born here. Half of my genetic being lived here, toiled here, cried here, and yet, I am removed from it. Just a few, small memories are what have connecting me to this place, the place of my ancestry. Soon, grandma will move from the house, and when she does, we will sell it, her grandkids, that is. We will justify it for our college tuition, our needs unmet, and because that’s “the way of life”. After all, nothing lasts forever, not even grandma’s house.

Gram is at the table with all her wisdom and ancient beauty. I feel good here, full. I feel for a moment like I am a good grandson (for I have visited her, listened to her stories, acknowledged her teachings, and tried to preserve her in this way). And yet, my belly aches, and I know she has not a crumb I won’t have to rummage for. I start to feel like this is not my home. I feel separate. I get restless after an hour of pinochle. “This was fun,” I say. The sun is setting out her window and I feel even more uncomfortable now in her home. I long to leave. I love her, truly, I do, but night time here depresses me and chills me to my bone. At night mysteries fill her creaky corridors. I tell her I had a great time, and that I’ll be back again soon as I make up an excuse to leave. I stumble, again, towards the door, breaking more bells as I leave. “Never mind it,” she says. She is always giving. I leave with another “grandma check”. She has filled me up, sustained me. She does it, I suppose, because she wants to, or maybe because she wants me to come back. I feel guilty now. I stumble to my car and drive away in silence. I take for granted that she will be there next time I come, whenever I choose to return. I am comfortable again: my feet off the itchy shag, my butt off her hard, wooden chairs, and done tirelessly playing pinochle. I eat. I cash my check. Satisfied, I think of when I might go back.

I see the sun set over the creek. It is cold now, and I put on my jacket. I pick up my bag, put on my stiff-dried socks, and limp my way up the valley towards my cabin. I eat a warm dinner and crawl into bed. I am home.

Must’ve Been a Fairytale

A magical place. Massive green trees and extremely colorful flowers. A stone path leading to every building. Wooden cabins adorned with fire places and jacuzzis. The constant aroma of a campfire.

Our Cabin!

My program, CIEE, planned a trip for us to Pucón (I prefer to call it “Fairytale Town”) where we had the privilege to stay at a charming campsite just outside the city. Our first day there, we visited a Mapuche community (the indigenous people of Chile) and spent the day learning about the their simple lifestyle, their vision of the cosmos, and their deification of nature. The Mapuche women prepared a massive bonfire for us, a common tradition practiced with guests, inside one of their very important buildings. We listened as they shared about their culture and religious beliefs, which seem to be intertwined with each and every part of their daily lives. The experience was incredibly interesting and, as Chile’s roots lie in the Mapuche community, it helped us further value and understand the country, and its indigenous people, as a whole.

Mapuche Community!

On our second day in Pucón, we embarked on a tour of various lakes, rivers, waterfalls, and nature reserves. The most fascinating part of this day, for many reasons, was the Mapocho River. It’s original Mapuche name is Mapu chuco, which means water that penetrates the land. With aggressive rapids and water as clear as glass, this unique river flows in the opposite direction of every other river in Chile. We also toured the Futaleufú River, one of the premier whitewater rivers in the world, where I fulfilled a dream of mine that I will discuss later. It is fed by glacial snow and is often referred to as “a landscape painted by God”. The source of this turquoise river is located across the border in Argentina, but nearly the entire river runs through Chilean land. For years, the two countries have debated about which country owns the river. It once belonged to the Chileans, backed by the argument that it runs primarily through their land and ends in a lake on their side, but it now belongs to the Argentinians because the river’s source is within the borders of their land. (I’m going to be honest, I’m still trying to decide if it is fully valid to say that I was in Argentina because I entered the river… I think I’ll say yes).

In the Futaleufú River, I fulfilled a dream of mine… I went white water rafting! It was exhilarating, terrifying, freezing, and life-changing all at the same time. Despite the freezing rain that decided to make a guest appearance on our journey, it was an unforgettable afternoon. I was slightly nervous due to the fact that all safety procedures were given in Spanish, and I was almost positive that at least one person in my group didn’t understand some crucial part of the explanation. However, no one fell out of the raft, no paddles were lost, and no instances of getting stuck between rocks or trees occurred. We did run into approximately four large rocks and had to assume our emergency position, all the while hoping we wouldn’t die, twice… Yet, we conquered the challenge and it felt incredible. Now I can say that I went rafting in an extremely beautiful and clear river, with powerfully strong rapids, flowing in the opposite direction of all other rivers, located in Chile but belonging to Argentina… I’d say that’s a once in a lifetime opportunity.

As I said, the trip was magical. Even strolling through Pucón was enchanting. We walked streets full of large ice cream shops and vendors selling handmade crafts. We observed families congregated at the lake with their sweet treats in hand. We saw wooden street signs bearing images of volcanoes and gazed at the city’s backdrop of snowy mountains. As the sun shone down and the scent of bonfire lingered, I couldn’t help but question if I was dreaming. I could live in Pucón, without a doubt. Who knows? Maybe I will…

What to Say, What to Keep

When the voices of friends and family ring through my ear over phone call conversations that fit into the narrow space we have between time differences, I am often at a loss of what I want to sound like. I love being here and I could go on for hours about my sweet and welcoming host family, my intelligent and kind new friends, the deliciously spicy food and elaborate art, and the sounds of car horns, yelling vendors, and religious music that is my new constant background. I have been greeted here with so much love and curiosity that it gives me a whole new perspective on what it means to welcome and to love.

However, there are also things here that make my heart want to throw up and keep me up late into the night without any concrete thought to take them away. My journal is filled with pretty paintings of what I see and words of what I hear, but there are also long trails of thought that don’t seem to point anywhere. There is sadness here and it comes alive for me in poverty and in pollution and in the unmovable systems of hierarchy and caste. I feel okay to share this because this is manifested in different ways everywhere from New Delhi to the greater Hope community.

However, I still don’t know what specifics to vocally bring home. Maybe I won’t until I get there. Maybe it is taking away from being here to think too much about it. Yet, I think the internal conflict I am struggling with is worth bringing to light. What sadness do I share and what do I keep for others to find and observe when and if they come here?

As I began to prepare for my time abroad, I also began to accumulate words to put to the Western perspective of India. People would greet my “I am leaving to study abroad in India!” kind of excitement with worried faces and remarks suggesting that India would never be a place they would want to go to. This mindset is a threat to not only seeing the world in a holistic way, but to how one sees one’s own country as well. I want to share my experience fully with the people I love, but I know there are details that my words could never accurately depict.

So, I suppose my strategy is to share the excitement and the love, and more than anything else, my admiration for the people working to fix the problems that are hardest for me to come to terms with. These people are the hope and the progress I want to share. I have witnessed and gotten to know some of the most intuitive solutions and NGOs. People working not only for their community but for better models for the globe to follow. At the end of the day, I think my words will have to be carefully chosen as I describe my time here, but I am learning that this is a practice I should undertake when I am talking about all people, all places, and even myself. We all deserve the grace of being described with love first. As I struggle with finding the words to represent my time here accurately, I plan to focus on the name of the place that brought me here: Hope.

 

First Program Trip – Berlin and Warsaw

I am going to go out on a limb and guess that you did not get to bed before 10 pm on your 21st birthday, and I am probably right. I, however, had a slightly different experience. For one, the only thing you get in Germany for turning 21 is the ability to legally rent a car, so it is not nearly as significant as in the U.S. In addition, I had to be ready to leave for the Freiburg train station by 5:45 am for our first week-long trip with our program.

Germany has a large Turkish minority, and one of their major contributions to German culture is the introduction of numerous döner kebab places, the best of which is Mustafa’s

The train ride to Berlin took about 6 hours, during which many of us got to get to know each other better, listen to music and read, or (the most popular choice) sleep. After arrival, we were confronted by the extensive public transportation network in Berlin and managed to locate two very important things. 1) Our hostel and 2) The best döner kebab place in town.

The contrast between the base structure and the glass dome on top of the famous parliament building is very representative of the combination of old and new throughout the city.

We then were taken on a two hour walking tour of Berlin which started at the Reichstag, the German parliament building. Our tour guide then took us to see many famous sights in the area including the Brandenburg Gate, Checkpoint Charlie, and the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe. As we made our way through the city, our tour guide stated that during WWII, roughly 80% of Berlin was destroyed. In fact, much of Berlin is filled with modern-looking buildings and looking back, I would argue that it was more similar to most big cities in the US than it was to Freiburg.

We had to go back to check out the Brandenburg Gate again to see it at night. Very impressive.

This line of cobblestones marks where the Berlin Wall once stood. Behind is the Brandenburg Gate.

Checkpoint Charlie. Featuring me.
The Memorial to the Murdered Jews, a very powerful monument.

The next day we took a visit to the former Stasi prison, where the GDR (former East Germany) held many political prisoners and dissenters for interrogations. This ruthless prison was hidden from the public and many forms of psychological torture were used by the Stasi to get what they wanted from their prisoners.

The basement of the Stasi prison nicknamed The Submarine because it was all underground and prisoners never knew what time it was. Prisoners were crammed so tight into these cells that they had to stand to have enough space.

After eating another kebab for lunch, we heard from a political analyst on Germany’s role in the European Union and went to the East Side Gallery to check out the artwork displayed along a long stretch of a remaining portion of the Berlin Wall. The following are some of the highlights I saw

In English: “You have learned what freedom is, never again forget it”
The famous picture of Soviet leader Leonid Brezhnev giving the East Germany President Erich Honecker a massive smooch.
This section in particular seemed to be very popular amongst the instagrammers…

After hearing from a German professor from Stanford University about the German perspective on the migration crisis, we had plenty of free time to spend around the city. Another aspect of Berlin’s rich history is the plethora of fantastic museums located right in the city.  Though it has been going through major renovations, the Pergamon Museum has incredible displays of historical architecture and artifacts from the times of ancient Babylon to the Roman Empire. The Neues Museum was another museum I visited, and it is the home of the famous bust of Nefertiti.

The Ishtar Gate was a gate to the inner city of Babylon built during the time of King Nebuchadnezzar II.

 

You are not allowed to take pictures of the Nefertiti bust from any closer than I was, but this artist found a loophole by making a beautiful drawing instead. Unfortunately he didn’t leave the room while I was there, so I could not take a picture of his art either.

After our time in Berlin came to a close, we took another train out to Warsaw, where we would be for the next two days. Upon our arrival, we made a quick stop at our hotel and headed straight to the city center for a walking tour with our hilarious Polish tour guide who went by the name Jack. For some reason I had a hard time believing that this was his given name, but he was funny so we just went along with it.

If you walk to the front of this tower you will be in the main city center of Warsaw where you can find a statue of a significant figure in the city’s history above a fountain.

By the time we finished our city tour it was dark outside, and we made our way to another beautiful square for dinner. Most of the city was destroyed in WWII, so almost all of the buildings around us had been built (or rebuilt) in the last 70 or so years. Thanks to some precise artwork from an artist before the war, the buildings in this square were intricately repaired to appear almost identical to what they were before. In the center of this square, you will also find a statue of a mermaid who was said to have lived in the waters of the Vistula river that runs through the city. Some claim that this same mermaid is also the inspiration for the story of the Little Mermaid, though the mermaid statue in Copenhagen generally gets credit for being the true source of the tale. Unfortunately this is the extent of my mermaid knowledge, so I’ll leave you to re-watch the Little Mermaid and decide for yourself…

The old town market square – the mermaid statue is slightly visible in the bottom left of the photo.
A classic Polish dish of pierogies and a local beer was a delicious way to finish off our first day in Warsaw.

Much of the next day and a half in Poland was spent doing class-related activities, like meeting with experts on Poland and it’s relations with the European Union. One of the most common topics was the ‘immigration crisis,’ and we heard from both sides about why Poland should or should not be doing more to help refugees looking for help. We heard the Polish perspective from representatives from The Polish Institute of International Affairs, who supported a very strict immigration policy for their extremely homogeneous nation, and for the first time in our program were confronted with lots of ideas that went against the EU’s opinions and goals.

We also got to visit the Museum of the History of Polish Jews and the Warsaw Rising Museum, which was about a resistance uprising led by the local citizens in Warsaw to try to oust the Nazi troops near the end of the war. The idea was for them to revolt in time to take the city just before the Russians arrived to ease the Russian push west, but the plan failed. Allies managed to send in bombers with care packages, but the Russians never got there in time and after a month or two of Polish resistance members controlling parts of the city, the rebellion was suppressed.

The center attraction of the Warsaw Rising Museum was this RAF Liberator – one of the types of bombers used during the dangerous missions the Allies sent out to supply Polish resistance members.

Just like in Berlin, there was not enough time to see everything I would have liked to, but both museums were fantastic. On our last day we made sure to eat even more pierogies, capping off a full week of incredible food. By the end, however, we were all looking forward to getting back to Freiburg and sleep in our beds again.

A group of IES students I got to explore the city with during our time in Warsaw.

Weekend in the Whitsundays

Upon arriving in Australia I had made it a priority to ask Aussies that I came across for places they would recommend for a weekend trip. From my own research I had considered Melbourne, Uluru, and Tasmania, and while the Aussies agreed that those would be fantastic spots, the suggestion I heard time and time again was the Whitsunday Islands. To be completely honest, I had never even heard of the Whitsundays. I was skeptical, to say the least. So much so, in fact, that I probably wouldn’t have gone had it not been for a friend of mine. I knew from budgeting for trips that I could probably afford to take one of these weekend trips and I had pretty much decided on Melbourne. He then pointed out that I had made the decision about a couple of bigger trips we would be making and that the Whitsundays was what he wanted to see the most. I conceded and we booked our flights.

We left Sydney in grey skies and 50 degree weather; we landed to clear blue skies, 80 degrees, and a slight breeze, which continued for the entire weekend. The van ride from the airport to Airlie Beach, where we were staying, took about forty minutes or so, and as we drove, I was surprised how similar to the Midwest this part of Australia seemed. We passed a lot of farmland — fields of sugar cane rather than corn, and we drove through a small town or two with not much more than a gas station and general store. Then, upon turning up a hill and around a corner, the driver said “Everyone, welcome to paradise.” As I alluded to earlier, Aussies are proud of the Whitsundays and Whitehaven beach… as they should be! I quickly decided that while Melbourne would have been an incredible experience, I certainly could not consider this trip to be a ‘bad decision.’

One of the first sights we got of the Whitsundays water

Airlie Beach simply exuded a laid back energy

Airlie Beach, like Cairns, and to be frank, a large portion of Australia, is catered towards two types of people: wealthy vacationers, and backpackers. Housing options at Airlie were essentially a choice of about four or five hostels, or renting a nice cottage overlooking a harbor. It’s been incredible as I have started to feel a bit more at home with the ‘backpacker culture’ that I have come across in Australia simply due to the exposure that I have had with this group. Although I’m not sure I can picture myself living as a full time backpacker like many of the people I have met are, I can’t help but admire the lives that they lead and feel cool about the fact that I am experiencing a small part of that life for myself. That also increased my excitement for New Zealand where I’ll be backing for about two weeks and living with other backpackers for the entirety of that trip!

The day after flying in was the day trip onto the Whitsunday Islands and Whitehaven beach. The Whitsundays are an archipelago of 74 islands, yet only eight of these are actually inhabited since the rest have been deemed a part of a national park. As a result, island after island we passed were entirely covered in forest, brush, and amazing rock outcroppings. The Whitsundays are also at the bottom of the Great Barrier Reef so naturally the water is filled with wildlife as well. As we were on our way to our snorkeling stop, we passed a massive sea turtle as it breached, and although we didn’t see any, the captain also told us that whales are quite common to find around the islands during this time of the year. We first did a bit of snorkeling over a small reef which was as beautiful as always. Plenty of fish were swimming under us and an Aussie even got my attention and showed me that after swimming down beneath a bit of reef we could see a black tipped reef shark! The shark was about six feet in length and our guides told us that’s about as large as they tend to get.

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Above is a link to see a bit of the coral and fish

Below is a short video where you can see part of the shark. Unfortunately he was a little shy to show his face

After we finished our snorkeling, the boat took us to a different island where we could take a short hike up to see the Hill Inlet. The Hill Inlet is now the second most photographed piece of Australia, just behind Uluru/Ayers Rock. To try to describe the Hill Inlet is really impossible so I will just include pictures so that you can see the indescribable beauty of the Whitsundays. The reason why the water is so blue and the sand is so white is because the sand is very special. While most sand around the world is made of quartz, the Whitsundays sand is made of 98% silica, and while scientists aren’t certain, they believe it originated from an underwater volcano that erupted long ago. The silica in the water then changes how light reflects off of it creating the indescribable views that you will see from the pictures. The guides also told us that we were very lucky as the view we got was about as good as it gets. Due to the water levels changing and sand shifting, the view from Hill Inlet actually changes every forty-five minutes.

Here is the Hill Inlet lookout

After getting our pictures at Hill Inlet we took the boat to Whitsunday Island where we got off to enjoy Whitehaven beach. Once again, this experience was almost indescribable as the sand felt entirely different from any sand I’ve felt before. Since it is made of silica the sand does not get hot from the sun, is incredibly soft, and can be used to exfoliate skin. No more sand is being produced, however, making the Whitehaven beach sand incredibly valuable. To protect the sand there is a no-questions-asked fine of $7,123 USD if you are caught taking sand from the Whitsundays. Needless to say, I didn’t think a small souvenir would be worth that cost so I left the sand where it belongs.

On Whitehaven beach is where my tour group also ate our lunch and I was surprised to find lizards all around our dining area. These were not small lizards either, rather, they were lace monitors which are the second largest lizards in Australia and among the largest in the world. The ones that surrounded us were around four to five feet long, and they do have razor sharp claws, teeth, and are venomous, although our guides assured us that they wouldn’t actually bother us as long as we tried to ignore them. I don’t know if you’ve ever tried to ignore a four foot lizard licking your foot while you eat food they are wanting but it isn’t easy. After a getting licked a couple of times while I was sitting down I extended my leg to raise it into the air. The monitor then darted underneath the bench I was sitting on and smacked my leg with its tail. I was a bit shocked by what had just happened while the guide laughed at me and said “she’s got a bit of an attitude, doesn’t she?”

Our guide was a hilarious middle-aged guy who with some aboriginal background, and while we ate he kept reminding the lizards of that fact. He would tell the lizards “If you bite me, I’ll bite you and I can legally do it too!” Not everyone was phased by the lizards though; in fact, the same Aussie guy who showed me the shark walked up from behind one lizard and gave it a quick pet. The lizard did not like that one bit and as a shiver ran down its whole body and its head whipped around towards the Aussie guy, I was feeling quite sure that our trip was about to be cut short. Fortunately the guy backed up a few steps and walked away leaving my friend and I sitting two feet away from an angry monitor, but we all made it back to shore unscathed.

Here’s one of the lace monitors

In the end, the Whitsundays turned out to be a paradise unlike anything I have experienced before. From the water to the sand to the wildlife, the Whitsundays felt surreal throughout the entire trip. I may not be able to afford to see Melbourne, but I certainly cannot pretend that I made the wrong choice by going to the Whitsundays. As I left Airlie Beach and flew back into Sydney I caught myself sighing as our plane touched down. Airlie’s temperature was so perfect that returning to the grey skies and rain of Sydney led me to think to myself “Well, back to dreary ole Sydney, I guess!” I then had to laugh at myself since never in my life would I have considered myself having that thought. It’s amazing how quickly new places can begin to feel typical and not quite as extraordinary as they once were. Then, as my train passed the Opera House I felt that magic return once again — I’m in Sydney.

 

A World Wonder

Nowadays there are quite a few lists of different world wonders. One of these lists is of the 7 Natural Wonders of the World. I had the incredible opportunity to go and experience one of them a couple of weekends ago. My friend, Noelle, and I took a quick trip to Livingstone, Zambia, to see Victoria Falls, the largest (widest) waterfall in the world!!

We flew out to Zambia Friday night, checked into our Backpackers, our accommodation for the weekend, then headed to a local café for some Zambian dinner. It had a nice atmosphere with outdoor seating and there was a live band playing outside (featuring lots of Ed Sheeran covers). We tried some crocodile bites and a barbecue pizza with bananas on it! It was a fun way to start off our time in a new country.

The next morning we got up and left to head to the falls! Victoria falls is part of the Zambezi River, which marks the border between Zambia and Zimbabwe. We were staying on the Zambian side but decided to start off by visiting the Zimbabwe side of the falls since this is supposedly where the best views are. In order to do so, we had to go through customs, walk across the bridge between the countries, and enter Zimbabwe. It was crazy to just be able to walk from one country to the other so easily.

Crossing into Zimbabwe
The bridge connecting Zambia and Zimbabwe

Once in Zimbabwe, we walked to the park entrance. We could already hear the roaring of the falls, so we followed the sound. The falls are so large that there are several different viewpoints to see them from; so we hopped from one to the next, trying to soak in as much as we could! At each viewpoint, you couldn’t help but get a little wet from all the mist spraying up from the force of the falls, but it was refreshing since it was almost 100 degrees that day! The falls were absolutely amazing and even bigger than I expected.

(Click on first photo to view as slide show!)

After watching the falls for a little while, we trekked back over to Zambia to see what the falls looked like from the other side. Although not as big as they were on the Zimbabwe side, the falls were still incredible. There is a section called the Rainbow Falls because rainbows are commonly found near the bottom of the falls there. We were able to see a couple of rainbows while on that side of the park.

(Click on first photo to view as slide show!)

After wandering around this side of the park, we headed to our next adventure: Devil’s Pool. Devil’s pool is a part at the top of the Falls where with a natural rock pool and natural rock barrier that weakens the current and prevents you from going over the edge. We met up with a tour group who led us to Livingstone Island, a small patch of land at the top of the falls, where we then began our walk/swim to Devil’s Pool. When we got there, the guides told us how to safely enter the pool and where to go. Getting in and swimming at the top of the largest waterfall in the world was probably one of the most exhilarating experiences of my life! Not only being at the top of the Falls, but also viewing them from this perspective was so humbling and a unique reminder of how awesome God’s creation is and how thankful I am to be able to experience it in such unique ways while abroad. It was definitely a highlight of the trip!

(Click on first photo to view as slide show!)

I am so grateful that I had the opportunity to take a weekend to visit Zambia and Zimbabwe and experience this amazing wonder! Victoria Falls did not disappoint and was an incredible sight to see in person! Now I just have to make it to the other six natural wonders 🙂

P.S. Our pilot on the flight back to Cape Town was super great and made sure to fly over the falls for us so we could spot it from an aerial view! Here’s what it looks like from a bird’s eye!

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Victoria Falls from above!

A Moment Here

I have an overwhelming desire to take people to Jaipur and give them my eyes to see it through. At first, any city in India can seem overwhelming. There are a lot of people and there is a long line of smells and noises to digest in each direction one turns. Whenever I try to explain my view of a street or a road to someone not here, I run into roadblocks because they often get attached to one of the images I am describing and they run with it. “There is a camel! How do you say camel in Hindi?” It is “oot” by the way!

However, part of the beauty of India is the fact that it all hits you at once. There is no room to process the elephant moving past you because you are about to get hit by a motor bike with four people on it and there is a symphony of car horns orchestrating your road crossing as well as sweet smelling stalls to greet you when you finally make it to the other side. There is no way to describe that in a conversation because the other person, understandably so, often cannot comprehend all that is happening in one instance because each detail is worth exclaiming about on its own.

I thought that maybe, this blog would be a platform to share a glimpse into the bazaar of old city Jaipur as the single entity and moment that it deserves. I feel like everyday here is a year and a second rolled into one and I am always left feeling simultaneously exhausted and energized. Doesn’t a place with so much packed in deserve full attention and imagination?

So here we go: Imagine standing with two feet planted firmly on slightly sandy and uneven cement ground. The wind may blow, but the blazing sun will always take precedence. The buildings are covered in pink, orange, and salmon covered paint which grants Jaipur the royal nickname of “Pink City.” The smells will swirl through the traffic of camels, cows, cars, and auto rickshaws to fill you with such a mix of diversity you may feel a little dizzy. There is the smell of sweet chai, an unknown combinations of vibrant spices, smoke from a nearby street stand, and unfortunately, a sprinkle of cow poop. The hollering vendors have stores overflowing with everything from colorful saris to mobile phone repairs to fried combinations of spicy and sweet Indian street food. If you sample some spicy daal from a new buy restaurant, the leftover spice in your mouth and the beating sun on your face creates a combination so amazing and unique I know words can’t do it justice. There is too much to say but I certainly tried. This city is overflowing with life and booming with growth. The new meets the old and the two dance creating a wonderful world of color, spice, and everything bright. The only way to pay this place true respect, is to one day find yourself standing on the street of the old city bazaar in Jaipur.

Blue Mountains and Australian Forests

Sydney is in a unique position geographically because it is surrounded by the ocean on one side, and national parks and mountains on the other. One of my friends, who is an Aussie native, lives in the Blue Mountains and this past weekend we decided to take a quick day trip out to the lower mountains. We headed to a place called Jellybean pools and we walked around swimming holes and we even walked down to a cave where an aboriginal tribe had painted their hands onto the side of the cave. It was amazing to see paintings which are so old and tell such a unique story with even the largest of hands being far smaller than my own.

Here is the hand paintings made by aboriginals from 1600-500 years ago

After walking around the Jellybean pools, my friends and I went to the park ranger’s station to ask about where we could go in order to see a big lookout onto the Blue Mountains. The ranger asked my Aussie friend where he’s from and he told her that he grew up in the Blue Mountains. She then said to him “well then you should know that there aren’t any big lookouts down here, you need to go to the upper mountains to see that!” My friend, who was quite embarrassed said that we were at least hoping to see a good lookout point. The ranger then told us that there were a number of trails and we could try our luck with any of them.

After a quick discussion my friends and I settled on taking a short drive around part of the park to a spot that we believed may lead to some great views. Along the way we passed a couple of kangaroos hopping around which always makes my day just a bit better. We finally arrived at the start of the trail and started walking only to quickly arrive at an incredible overlook and we shared a laugh that the park ranger didn’t consider this to be a “big” overlook. I’ve come to the conclusion that Australia, although it is not the most green country I have visited, has some of the most incredible rock formations I have ever seen. As we looked from atop the valley we watched a winding river cut through a forest as it goes through the mountain.

It seemed like a pretty big lookout to us

Too often when people think of Australia they think of the dangerous creatures that exist, the snakes and spiders amongst other things. Those dangers do exist and it is something that I have been quite aware of especially as the weather becomes warmer the longer that I live here. It is a different experience walking through the forests of Australia than it is walking through the forests of Michigan because there are next to no similarities. In Michigan, I am familiar with most types of trees. I know what berries are edible and which ones are not, and I know that in most of the lower peninsula, the biggest concerns that come with hiking include poison ivy and mosquitoes. I don’t have that same comfort level here which is a strange experience for me. It isn’t that I am in a constant state of fear walking through the forests, but rather a state of uncertainty. If I hear a rustling in the woods in Michigan, I like to stop and look for a frog, gardener snake, squirrel or whatever may have made the noise. In Australia I keep walking, knowing that the sound is most likely a lizard but not being entirely sure.

What strikes me is how different my experience is from that of native Aussies. As I talk to various Australians they are quite comfortable talking about the fact that there does exist a decent number of snakes and they aren’t difficult to find. For Aussies, however, that is simply a part of life. The snakes and spiders do their thing and the people do their own. Perhaps the closest comparison I could make would be the experience of driving in snow for an Australian in Sydney to that same experience for someone in Michigan. Many people from Sydney may have seen snow or been around it during their travels, but driving in snow would likely lead to a level of stress and uncertainty that Michiganders hardly think about. That’s been one of the most educational components of studying abroad for me so far, understanding how much our experience of where we live normalizes components of our lives that would be radical to another individual. I believe that’s one of those lessons that while you may know logically, it is often difficult to fully grasp.

 

   

 

 

 

 

Lo Logramos!

Four hours up and five hours down…

An exhaustingly magnificent hike up La Campana, a beautiful mountain situated 2000 meters above sea level.

The guides say that it takes the average person 5 hours to reach the top, so why did it only take us 4? Well, please, let me explain.

Our incredibly exhausting journey began at 10:00 in the morning when we started to hike. They notified us that the first part, 3.2 miles, should take about two and a half hours to complete, but then they broke the news… “You must arrive to La Mina, the end of part one, before 12:00 p.m if you would like to continue and trek to the top”. They wished us luck, chuckled, and we doubtfully began our journey.

  

Here’s the thing. They say that the first part is the “easy” part, so when we were dying on our way to La Mina, we had no idea what was waiting for us on the second “actually hard” part. My legs began to feel like they were on fire as I took step after step, up the “easy” steep hills of dirt and jumped over the occasional large rocks blocking my path.

The “easy” part

There was no stopping us. We had our minds set on getting to the top, so we only had one choice – we were going to do this two and half hour “easy” part of the hike in two hours. No problem at all. With essentially no rest breaks, little time to chat, and no opportunities to eat, we made our way to La Mina! And guess what time we arrived?

11:57 a.m.!

Three whole minutes to spare.

We were so proud of ourselves and so excited to sit, rest, breathe, drink some water, and eat a snack… but then came the next messenger of bad news (the park guards) to tell us that if we wanted to go to the top, we had to depart in that very moment. He also let us know that it typically takes two and a half hours to conquer this part, 1.25 miles, however we must begin to descend at 2:00 p.m, regardless of whether or not we make it to the top. So what did we do? We took one look at each other and in unison shouted “Vamos!” and we continued on. I looked up and began to tremble in fear, unsure of how I would ever make it to the top. The activity quickly changed from hiking to full on rock climbing, arms and all, folks.

We continued on.

Jumping onto huge rocks and pulling our entire body weight up with our arms. Dripping with enough sweat to fill a bathtub. Balancing with our arms out like an eagle. Laughing every few seconds at how impossible the task in front of us seemed. But we persevered.

After what I thought was a broken ankle, many tears, a ton of laughter, loads of sweat, a bit of frustration, and a whole lot of perseverance, together, fashionably late (Chilean style), at 2:05 p.m we arrived at the tippy top of this 2000-meter mountain. I was greeted with an astounding panoramic view of the ginormous Andes Mountains and the glistening Pacific Ocean. I was speechless – partially because I could no longer breathe, and partially because the view I was soaking in was truly astonishing and overwhelming.

Lo logramos! (We did it!) and it was definitely worth the blood, sweat, and tears (there surprisingly wasn’t actually any blood, but sweat and tears just doesn’t sound as good). I’m still trying to wrap my mind around the beauty of this country, and my view from the top of La Campana really helped me to do just that.  Viva Chile!

 

Self-Care

I wake with a foot planted on me. I am immediately angry. So is the owner of the foot. Who’s to blame: me for sleeping on a trail or them for stepping on a sleeping body?

 

I narrowly avoided the above situation. We had just come back from caves filled with tragic stories of indigenous exploitation and deep darkness. I was tired, so I dipped out, dodging camp prep to hideaway in my sleeping bag.

 

You see, for the 3 nights before our camping trip near Lava Beds National Monument, I had stayed up far too late talking. Talking is good and I’m often conflicted about bedtime as the best conversation seems to happen late at night, under the blessing of the stars. This week I’d thrown caution to the wind and now it had caught up to me.

 

So I slipped away and settled down on a trail. I’d figured there’d be less bugs around there and that no one would use said trail.

 

What I didn’t see then, and I see now, is the irony of my chosen spot. In my lack of care for myself, I had blocked the trail for them..

 

In my time here at the Oregon Extension and our reading about mushrooms, I’ve realized our inter-connectedness. We are not, and have never been islands.

 

In our modern lives we can delude ourselves into thinking this is not the case. Two summers ago I had convinced myself it was. Selfishly suicidal, I figured my life had little impact on anyone else. If I took my life or continued to live as if my life did not matter to others, I felt there could be no impact.

 

Here I see clearly the fallacy. With chores spread across us all to keep the place running, any absence or laziness must be made up for by another.

 

If I decide I don’t want to wash dishes today, my roommates bear the burden. If I neglect my farm chore, someone else must move the giant compost pile.

 

Here, I cannot skate by under the impression that I am independent of any other.

 

In modern life, it seems we can. A book we read, Nature’s Metropolis, broke down the fallacy that is the separation between the city of Chicago and the surrounding country. Often, they are viewed as entirely separate.

 

But a catastrophic crop failure in the country or paltry demand for food in the city will quickly expose this faulty premise. In fact, we see a parallel here. If the country is treated poorly and fails, then so too does the city.

 

So we come to a paradox. In order to care for others, you must first care for yourself. After all, a sick Jimmy can hardly move a giant compost. Nor can a sick Jimmy do without lots of tea and hot herbals and naps, none of which are very productive (though they are all enjoyable).