I go through phases. Sometimes, all I want to do is write and sometimes, the last thing I want to do is write. Most of the time, however, it's not because I don't like writing or I don't have something to say, but because I don't know how to write my thoughts. I'll start the dialogue in my head of what I want to say and grab a pen and paper to start writing and then you know what happens?
.
..
...
....
Absolutely nothing! I stare and stare and stare at the paper thinking that if I look long enough, something will magically appear. But alas my inability to write leaves the page blank. I question if anything I am thinking is worth writing down and if so, can what I write actually convey the true message? So I stop and let my thoughts get all jumbled in my mind.
I love writing, it's a great release from every day life. If you know me, you know I have issues conveying myself through spoken words. Writing, however, is the opposite (at least when I can convince myself to write). I can create a steady, coherent stream of thought instead of just a puddle of random ideas.
So I guess, I'm going to use this space to make a promise to myself. It won't be as dedicated of a promosie as others who have done the same thing but it will be enough for me. So here it is: starting today, the 12 of April 2011, I will write at least once a week. Meaning that, since today is Tuesday, I have to have a new post written each week by Tuesday 8 p.m.
There it's out. No turning back.
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Santa Barbara Thus Far...
Three years, one month, and fifteen days ago, I entered college. A frightened, excited, nervous, freshman, I said so-long to my parents and opened a new door. My dorm door. Brown, wooden, heavy: it slammed whenever someone closed it. I spent countless nights staring at that door. Worrying, stressing, crying over friends, boyfriends, grades. The stupid little red markings on the tops of papers and tests that I was convinced predicted my entire future. Where I was going, if I was going to succeed, how I was going to become successful if I got a B- in math 34a.
That door became my Great Wall of China. It kept me safe and secure inside the eleven by thirteen box of a room. When a man with a gun came into my building, my door secured my safety. When numerous nights blurred through my tear-soaked eyes, that door hid my sorrow from the world. Its sanctity left me free to explore my own thoughts.
When my freshman year finally came to an end, I escaped through that door like a sky diver jumping out of a plane. No regrets, no turning back. I was done. Over. Finished. I was moving on. Liberating myself from the confines of that giant wooden door. Escape didn't come easy, however, that door followed me. Reminding me of the sadness that filled my heart. I heard it slam, as I said goodbye to my first love, with a gut-retching BANG symbolizing the end.
Or beginning-- as it followed me to my first apartment. A small, wooden cabin complete with mold in the shower and a draft under the door. Fresh air for freedom, for life. It was my time to shine: to break free. Or so I thought. But again, that heavy, hideous door held me in. I bundled in my blankets in fear of letting the cold, bitter wind sting my face.
Like a bear, I hibernated all winter. Too afraid to show my cookie-dough filled belly and my blotchy cheeks to the outside world. I waited and waited and waited...I counted down the days until summer--April, May-- June just never seemed to come. Like the warmth brought by the first light after a frost-bitten night, summer meant the start of something new and I yearned to shed my winter coat.
Beginnings? I didn't care. I needed a revival: a rebirth. I couldn't stand the door holding me in any longer. My legs longed for the outdoors and to stride across the dusty, tarred California road. I ran: as fast as I could run, I ran. I leaped through a new, open door and into tomorrow. It wasn't cold: it wasn't dark: it wasn't lonely. I wouldn't let it. I couldn't. I fought it. With sweat and laughs and smiles I broke down that wall. Slammed the door on itself and ran away. Through fields, over hills, and across streams, I ran.
My legs carried me to Berkeley: a drastic change from the flat, dirty square-mile of Isla Vista that I had refused to call home for two years. After countless interviews and nights slept on my future boyfriend's couch (in order to avoid sleeping in a shared apartment with a thirty-year old creep), I found my new home. It was an eight story apartment complete with three Norwegians. Within five minutes, I felt more comfortable there than I ever did in my drafty cabin. The smell of fresh white paint and the new IKEA furniture, that should have felt so sterile, were a sharp contrast to the warmth and happiness emitted from the Norwegians. No more heavy, wooden doors: there wasn't a door in the world that could block out their sun.
I was happy. My rejuvenated legs carried me through the Berkeley hills. With new friends and a new love, I conquered my world. My legs became stronger and my heart became warmer. I was liberated. Free to pick thirty pounds of peaches on a delightful Davis day. Free to ride my new road bike the forty miles between Petaluma and Point Reyes Station. The door was open.
The rest of that year flew, with the speed of a lear jet, twelve thousand miles away to South Africa. I broke all ties to my California life and jumped feet first off a forty-five foot cliff into a rushing African river. For my six month stay, I ran, I biked, I climbed-- my cockroach infested room could not keep me at bay. Though a piece of my heart was left in Berkeley, my head was light and my smile glimmered against the blue African sky. A sky so big that all I wanted to do was explore.
And I did. And I have. Everything. Everywhere I could. South Africa, France, England, Germany. Side my side with my best friend, we wreaked havoc across the continents. Biking, running, jumping: we were unstoppable.
When I finally returned to California in July, I was eager to begin my senior year at UCSB. I had learned and I had grown. I was going to face my wooden door. I was going to defeat it. I was strong. Two triathlons and a 175 mile bike ride proved to me that I could hold my own. When I walked through the white door that hid my new house, I immediately knew this year was going to be different. I was overwhelmed with bright colors, not just from the walls that were freshly painted pink, orange, yellow, green, blue, and purple, but also from my housemates whose each unique style and flare perfectly complemented each other.
I had found it. The peaceful, easy feeling I had been searching for throughout my entire college career. For the first time while living in Santa Barbara, I feel like I am home. No more hiding under blankets in a dark, damp apartment. No more tears, save for tears of joy. I was free: a 13.1 mile run in a Half Ironman Relay in Vegas and a super sprint triathlon around the UCSB campus wearing nothing more than my high school, varsity swimsuit and a smile.
...No more doors.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
2 Months Back
I've been meaning to write this post for 2 months; since the 26th of June when I arrived at LAX tired from traveling, excited to see my family, and relieved that almost everything on the trip went perfectly. I say almost because I had one major catastrophe.
The 50 kilogram bag that I was carting around was stolen in Cape Town. The morning Jeff and I were supposed to be headed to Europe, we walked out to our rental car, which was unassumingly parked in the hostel parking lot, only to discover the back window punched in and my bag gone. Wonderful right? What was supposed to be a fun morning hiking up Table Mountain turned into a stressful, tear-filled morning of filling out police reports and realizing what I no longer had.
However, as terrible as having five months of memories and possessions stolen from me, the experience really wasn't that bad. Jeff and I ended up sampling all the coffee shops in the Cape Town airport, which at least gave me a much needed caffeine buzz to make it through the day. Not to mention, that Jeff somehow weaseled our way into a first class lounge which was a lot more comfortable place to spend the last 3 hours in the airport. Plus, on the bright side, I no longer had to cart a giant bag around the streets of Paris, London, and Cologne.
France, England, and Germany went by in no time and before I knew it, I was on Air Tahiti Nui heading back to California...
As much as I loved South Africa (and am longing to return), it is great to be back in California. Six months abroad has made me appreciate California and the US so much more than I could have ever imagined. It has also made me more humble and more conscious of all the injustices and issues around the world. I will have to expand more on that at some later time, however, those who have seen me since I've been home have heard my two cents regarding that matter.
Since I've been home, I've been eating and cooking a lot (thank goodness for all the choices of food available and California), cycling, running, and swimming a lot (I completed my first triathlon last week), and stressing out over the fact that I graduate from UCSB in 9 months!
But C'est le vie! I have to enjoy the end of my undergrad experience right?
I'll write more later, but for now, I'm supposed to dash into the city to sample some vegan Mexican food!
Cheers!
Friday, May 21, 2010
3 weeks turned into 2
I leave Pietermartizburg in 2 weeks. 14 days and my study abroad venture at University of Kwa-Zulu Natal comes to an end. It’s difficult for me to fathom that after a term at Berkeley, and a term at UKZN, I’m fourexams away from ending my year long hiatus and returning to being a student at UC Santa Barbara. In fact, I've already picked classes for fall quarter. And I have already chosen my living situation for my senior year.
I’m so happy I chose to study abroad in South Africa and especially Pietermaritzburg. It has been such an eye-opening and humbling experience. Considering my limitations in languages and my desire to participate in an immersion program, I don’t think there are many other places I could have gone to experience such a unique cultural experience. I think I have said it before, but South Africa is so diverse and so divided. It has so many good and bad qualities associated with the fact that devastating political, social, and racial turmoil exists.
Before I came, I had the idea that the World Cup was going to have such beneficial affects for the citizens of South Africa. In actuality, it has not benefited the local population at all. Millions of dollars have been allocated to building new stadiums and increasing tourism, however, nothing has been spent to improve the quality of living for the nation’s citizens. The country is littered with filth from people unconcerned with the environment or the future. Half of the time that I have been in Pietermaritzburg the municipality has been on strike: meaning that trash is not collected or if it is, the city does not have enough money to bring it to the large land-fills and instead, just burns all the small dump sites. Therefore, not only is the air filled with smog from heavily polluting vehicles, it is also filled with the fumes and smoke from burning garbage.
Not to mention that recent political and social events have heavily increased the racial tensions among the population. Honestly though, the racism is just making the situation about ten times worse. I hear people talk and use derogatory terms and racist comments like it’s as normal as commenting on the weather. I don’t think I go a day without feeling offended people of the ignorance and disrespect towards one another that people though. So many people complain that the root of the problems in South Africa are based on lack of education, however, by using racial slurs, no matter the circumstance, it’s just proving that the ‘educated’ are just as ignorant as they people they are degrading. It just makes me so sad and so angry that there are still such social injustices and inequalities here…
However, at don’t mean to rant about that right now. I would more like to talk about the fact that I’m really going to miss South Africa once I leave. For all its problems and issues, it really is a beautiful place. The landscape and the scenery are amazing; I only wish I had more time (and more money) to explore them. I would have loved to visit Botswana and Namibia- actually, I would have loved to have visited every other country. Not to mention, it would have been so nice to work on archaeology here. I could honestly see myself coming back in a couple years in order to go to grad school or to work here. South Africa has so much history and culture that’s not only apparent in the people but also in the environment. Five months in this country, on this continent, is in no way long enough for me to be here. I know I will come back.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
3 weeks left in Pietermaritzburg
shoot! I wrote something up last night to put on here because I know I've been horribly slacking the past month. However, I saved it on my laptop instead of my flashdrive. Therefore, I'll post it next time I get on the internet. I'm sorry! I really meant to put something up!
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Planes, Flames, and Hadedas
I'm sorry, in the chaos that is this semester and life in Africa, I have been completely neglecting my blog. It's not that I don't want to write on it, it's just trying to find the time. My life is going in ten different directions at once. What have I been doing you ask? Well, school (so papers, projects, reports, and the like); field trips (I saw a bush baby!!), climbing; running; baking (finally); and all other shinanigans that are associated with Africa. This afternoon, I am going up to Underburg in the Drakensburgs with a few friends, Iain, Jeninne, Tracy, Haden, and Matt. If the weather holds up, which it doesn't look like it's going to, I'm supposed to fly up with Iain and Jeninne in Iain's father's tri-pacer. If not I'll drive up but I really hope the weather holds up.
Iain took me flying last week as well. It was so much fun to get back into the air! The plane is so cool too because it was made in the 1950s and is as basic as they come. I think it cruises around 100 knots and it flies very similarily to a Cessna 152. However, the cool thing about the tri-pacer is that it is canvas. I sat co-pilot and its a bench seat so in order for me to fly, I had to prop myself up off the back of the seat. The only problem with the day we flew was that it was really smokey. Because winter is the dry season here, they burn fire breaks during the fall in order to control the fires in the winter. Therefore, the last couple weeks have been super smokey. But C'est le vie! I still was able to fly so I'm happy!
Anyway, I'm off. Time to start being productive with this day!!
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
T.I.A. This is Africa
It’s been too long.
I know, I know, it’s completely my fault. But to be fair, I’ve been really busy. So I’m just writing on Africa time (see, I eventually knew I would get around to it). The past few weeks have been completely crazy. Weekend Excursions, Midterms, Easter Break, My 21st Birthday. I finally used the internet yesterday for the first time in nearly two weeks and opened my email to 250+ messages in my inbox. I was quite afraid! Oh, and, I hit the half way point for my term in Africa. Actually, that makes me kind of sad, so I won’t talk about that again.
I don’t even know where to start at the moment. I don’t think I’m going to write a lot with the post either. There’s just so so so much to cover. Instead, I’ll just post a bunch of pictures.
The first set of pictures is from a weekend up in the Drakensburg Mountains. My camera battery died half way through the trip so I wasn’t able to take as many as I would have liked. But the mountains were beautiful. We did a canopy tour, I finally saw baboons, we attempted to watch the sunrise (but it was cloudy), and we went on a horseback ride to Sans Bushmen paintings.
And then I had midterms, papers and all that fun stuff intermixed with thunderstorms, climbing, paddling (i.e. unsuccessfully trying to learn to Eskimo roll in a pool), learning to ride a dirt bike, and exploring PMB.
And now, drum roll please…..
…
…
…
EASTER BREAK! Cape Town and traveling up the N2 through the Eastern Cape, the Garden Route, the Wild Coast, and the Transkei.
The pictures basically speak for themselves but…
We found a delicious farmer’s market where I ate warthog and ostrich,
We went cage diving in Gansbaai with great white sharks,
We went on a wine tour around Paarl and Stellenboch in order to become wine snobs,
We hiked Table Mountain, in a cloud with 30knot winds,
We drove to Mossel Bay, where we split into 2 groups and I went to Addo Elephant Reserve,
We saw elephants, lions, hyenas, tortoises, vervet monkeys (which chased us from our safari tent), and so much more at Addo,
We saw elephants, lions, hyenas, tortoises, vervet monkeys (which chased us from our safari tent), and so much more at Addo,
We drove to Chinsta for dune climbing, sundowners, and what we’re calling “Girls Gone Wild on the Wild Coast”,
And finally,
We drove the most horrendous 80km potholed road to Coffee Bay (where we nearly zigzagged our way through potholes while attempting to not get ran off the road by taxis) (I actually started hyperventilated while driving at one point), hiked 12km in rain and wind, over cliffs with goats and cows, to Hole in the Wall, and celebrated my twenty first birthday African style (yes, with war paint).
We drove the most horrendous 80km potholed road to Coffee Bay (where we nearly zigzagged our way through potholes while attempting to not get ran off the road by taxis) (I actually started hyperventilated while driving at one point), hiked 12km in rain and wind, over cliffs with goats and cows, to Hole in the Wall, and celebrated my twenty first birthday African style (yes, with war paint).
But just fyi, we are celebrating my twenty-first California style when I get back in June!!
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