3-May: Notes from the nook floor

My broken sleep is now impacting my subconscious. These are the last few days of a life I've known for four years, and the universe refuses to let the transfer between astral planes be a smooth layover. In the past week, I, who rarely requires medical attention, has had to be patched up multiple times: First, to glue shut my punctured face, courtesy of a car door, and then to bandage a punctured hand, thanks to a heroic-deed-turned-dog-attack. My nights run late in efforts to savor each potentially last opportunity with mates, and my body – always seeking that worm – prides itself on rising before the rest of the household. The results finally hit me this morning.

Having been awake, but not yet risen from my bedroll, I was watching a Mongolian documentary just an hour ago. As I dozed off, the show continued in my mind, which, evidently, is already on that jumbo jet and is at least two in-flight movies into the trans-Pacific journey. In my dreams, I found myself in a Mongolian urban setting and trying to drive (which is not allowed to happen, by the way) by myself and at night. While sitting at a t-intersection stoplight, preparing to turn left, I note a police officer ready to catch violators in the darkness. I complete my turn, but I hear him yelling and the bright lights switch on behind me. However, he doesn't follow as I realize that perhaps my issue is that I am now driving through a pedestrian shopping alley. I manage to make it through without incident and shortly arrive at a restaurant. Though I don't know anyone, I sit at a table with a new friend and we begin our meal while interacting with the staff. Shortly after I break cultural norms (e.g. handing things to the staff with my left hand), I catch myself and the locals speak nothing of the tourist and his transgressions. Though they are generally speaking in Mongolian, I catch a mention of Singapore and I join the discussion (in English). The man who brought up Singapore has clay-colored skin and a beard that must have been years in making. I'm trying to place him when I realize that he significantly resembles characters seen on ancient Greek amphorae.

My work phone buzzes me awake with word of yet another employee who can't make it on time. Two days from change. My body fights me and the strongest wisdom I can pass on to you from this episode is

“Don't eat Voodoo doughnuts at 2:00am.”

As I said: There are no goodbyes.

Nine months and nine days ago, I told you the tale of a character, unexpectedly thrown from the carousel of the circus life, and uncertain of his next steps. The passage waxed poetic on the joys of the nomad: Not enough to bring back the shine in the much-traveled hallways of your neighborhood elementary school, but just the right amount required to make that disc sing at 80rpm. It sang of new definitions for family. It sang of self-discovery through achievement and through tribulation. It sang of the unknown.

Sixteen states and six countries later, I returned to Cirque. Truthfully, the world once again demonstrated its small size as I found myself in an Asian nation close enough (in my opinion) to visit my Ovo family in a nearby nation for the weekend. Back to that "return" I brought up: The boomerang began its return voyage and I took an entry-level position with Cirque that placed my former employees as my supervisors. It's a good example of why we should always be kind to those lower in the hierarchy -- they won't always be there. The next three cities added family members to the tree and I'm in Portland...again.

It's rather fitting that I'm here.

My first time living in Portland resulted from the somewhat sudden decision to quit my California life. In those four Oregonian months, I had discovered a city that remains on my short-list of "if I ever settle" locations and I had found temporary entry-level work with Cirque du Soleil. However, unemployment drove me from this magical place and set me forth on tour (A journey begins). Just under two years later, I returned with the tour to Portland and received a promotion to permanent manager. That assignment sent me to the desert in the summer (How to make the summer hotter). Another two years passed, and I, once again, am experiencing Portland in the Spring. I know I've said goodbye to the circus before, but this one is truly it for a few years. I'm not going to accidentally trip across some city limits and find myself in the same city as the big top.

Shortly before that nine months and nine days ago, I applied for the Peace Corps. It was my answer to the search of finding a job that travels, but is a bit more productive to the global community than my current line does. For those who aren't familiar with the application process, it's nearly a year between application and departure (for those selected). It's a process that goes months without updates, and subjects you to phone interviews, aspiration statements, blood tests, dental work, vaccinations, and full disclosure of relationships, debts, mental states, and pasts. They want to know everything. If you are married or in a long-term relationship, you have to provide a notarized statement from your partner saying that he or she is okay with you going. If you're divorced, you have to provide your settlement showing that you won't be bailing on alimony and the sort. If you owe anything, there's a notarized statement from whomever will take over your payments. Surely, these procedures stem from actual experiences during the Peace Corps' history, but it can still seem overwhelming.

In 58 days, I leave. At this point, I don't know what city I'm flying out of. I don't know in which city I'm spending the first three months of pre-service training. I won't know where I'll spend the following 24 months until near the end of that training. All I know is the country. It's something completely different from what I know. It's a language with a new alphabet for me to master. It may or may not have internet access. That last one doesn't matter as much as one might think. The friends that I've found and kept through the past years of madness are the kind that don't question if I don't see them in person for four years. They're the kind that aren't bothered when we go nine months without exchanging a word. These are the special ones: the ones worth meeting in an airport terminal to share a sandwich instead of having them go hungry on a layover.

There's more to say, so much more, but this is just the beginning. As a side note, I've seen this flag almost every day on site since I've joined Cirque. Guess it's time to check it out.

Oh yeah, happy April 1st...

29-Oct: Find that fire / Illuminate your surroundings

"Make no little plans; they have no magic to stir men’s blood and probably themselves will not be realized. Make big plans; aim high in hope and work, remembering that a noble, logical diagram once recorded will never die, but long after we are gone will be a living thing, asserting itself with ever-growing insistency. Remember that our sons and grandsons are going to do things that would stagger us.."

-Daniel Burnham

The term "inspiration" didn't mean much to me until the last few years. I guess I didn't think about it much. In the last year, however, its importance to my life exploded into something that is beginning to steer my path. Frankly, I'm excited about it!

Think of the teacher that got you so excited about a topic that you researched more than what the assignment called for. Think of the musician that drove you to want to learn to play that instrument. Think of the adults throughout your childhood that led by example and encouraged your explorations. The common factor with these involves passion. If you have lost interest in something, you probably have no chance of inspiring someone else concerning that topic: the burnout teacher who just shows up, the rock star that plays the same set, note for note, every night in exchange for a paycheck (Note: this is not meant towards those who must play a theatrical score or such).

A bit of advice last year from someone close taught me that one should surround himself with those who inspire. I have found this to be true, for it ignites a feedback loop of creativity, passion, and drive. In fact, I now count a thirst for knowledge as one of the most attractive factors for me. This isn't limited to book smarts, and includes anything beyond being content with the status quo. When presented by inspiring figures on all sides, all those involved can find new interests to pick up.

I have had the opportunity to inspire and it feels pretty satisfying. In working with foster youth, I know I didn't reach each one that I lived with, but I'm still involved with a couple of them. I sometimes ramble on about scientific topics and I'm always pleased when the listener encourages me to continue. Even some of my travels seem to be inspiring other to venture out a bit more. I bounced my current ideas off the person sitting next to me on one of my last flights and she wants to know more. She'd be willing to donate to the cause and shares my enthusiasm for the plan, so that's a good sign!

So, it's time to make plans. Plans with which I can inspire and hopefully lead others to inspire themselves. Plans -- big plans -- that may not succeed in their first incarnation, but will be a start.

28-Oct: Lost moments

"All those moments will be lost in time like tears in rain."

-Roy Batty

 

...unless you're paying attention, that is. It's too easy to walk, nay, run through the rain. As life keeps us busy with our everyday routine, do we truly notice what goes on around us? The tears of a neighbor or stranger, whether caused by pain or joy, are often too quiet to bring attention from passersby. If that moment is missed, only the crier knows of it, and the tears are washed into the stormdrains, caught up in the flood of fleeting life.

 

Think then of a single friend who notices the tears and stops. He may make a meaningful yet futile gesture of offering a tissue, with which to dry the soggy eyes caught in the damp weather. It is in this case that the intention far outweighs the immediate outcome. Whether an offered tissue or hug of support, an action can produce a chain reaction. Not only does the crier know that someone cares, but the situation has now become more apparent to those caught up in routine. Which would you more likely notice across a rainy street: a single person tearing up in a storm or two people hugging?

 

This is a call to action. This isn't saying that you have to help a charity or give money. Helping could be a physical involvement, it could be as simple as sitting and listening. This could help a stranger, a family member, a group, or the planet. If you make a difference to one person, the effects may cascade. Even if they don't that's still one better than before.

 

For my next stage, I'm aiming to follow my own suggestion. There are many options -- we all have options -- so it's a matter of picking the best for my case. In the meantime...

 

Be excellent to each other.

27-Oct: Taipei rush

"Make use of your time, but don't let time use you."


Traveling can be tiring. I know that when I get somewhere new, I need to see something more than the inside of a hotel. Each trip is an opportunity to experience and explore, for never again will this exact set of circumstances occur. If you have the luxury of having an open schedule while abroad, it's quite lovely to wander the streets at a relaxed pace. However, with express trips (e.g. my 2.5 days in Taipei), that relaxation can be pushed aside by the wish to see as much as possible.

On my first day, I zigzagged through streets, often preferring side alleys to the motorcycle-infested roads. I found myself in parks filled with musicians, families, and cheer, and I discovered open markets, public art, and museums that weren't on the Mandarin map I had. My only limitation was to get back to the hotel at some point that night. It was wonderful.

My second day, in contrast, struck me with illness and lethargy, robbing me of the ability to explore. By the time I was up for getting outside, I had less than three hours before I was supposed to meet someone for dinner. Limitations in mind, I prioritized what I wanted to see, based much on walking distance. I could feel the drive in my pace and each new option of diversion that arose came with thoughts of time constraints. I still enjoyed myself, but I was late and pushed onward. I knew my friend wouldn't mind a little tardiness, but I like to be on time for myself.

The skies had darkened as I pressed forward. As I passed a glass-covered train station, my eyes picked up hues of purple and orange in the reflection. I had been so focused on getting back to the hotel that I had been oblivious to a magnificent sunset performing its dance behind me. Tunnel vision can rob you of the beauty around.

I stopped to watch the performance conclude.

14-Oct: The choices of Wellington

As I wrote this, I realized that, much like the roads here, I had given you a long, winding story: Names of people I would meet and possibly meet again, cities I would try unsuccessfully to leave, and mountains I would potentially never reach. This is what the freedom of travel should be. A checklist is not exploration.

***********************************

"The future can no longer be
 What is going to happen?
 It is: What are we going to do?"
 -Henri Bergson

Taken out of context, this quote could be interpreted in two quite different ways. The first speaks to a future already written, in which our actions, though potentially preparatory, are reactionary nonetheless. The second interpretation stresses free will to the point that the author proposes actively choosing our paths.

I like to use "ride the wave" to describe my adaptable nature, but we must be careful to not just ride, but to steer the board. Perform (or at least attempt) those stunts you want to try! If you don't try new things, you'll surely become tired of your routine. You'll also never improve if you don't challenge yourself. This is the case for anything, but I find myself off topic.

Everything we do is the result of a decision, even if it's a decision to not do anything or to abstain from deciding. I set out with a rough plan, a route, to tour this island. However, I knew from previous travels that the concept of scheduling every day or destination cheats me of choice. And so, I choose to book my couchsurfing hosts only two locations (3-5 days) ahead. Maybe I will enjoy a city so much, I'll want to spend more time there. Perhaps an outside factor will come into play. A combination of the two have turned my plans into laughable situations again and again. So much so, that this is the third time I've attempted to write this piece!

I arrived at Stu's house in Whangerai to find that I was the fifth couchsurfer (hereafter referred to as surfers or CSers) he was having that night. Stu generously runs what essentially comes across as a free hostel. Residents are only through the CS community and thus are filtered/accepted at Stu's discretion. He has two spare rooms with bunks and a sofa bed in the lounge. The other surfers for the night were two pairs of German girls: one set just arriving for a couple days and the other on their way out after visiting Stu multiple times. Having faced the option of traveling New Zealand without a car, I was quick to offer rides to the others to improve their Whangerai experience. The following day, after dropping the departing pair at the bus station, Anna, Tamara, and I drove around in miserable weather, bonding and amusing each other. We realized that we were going to essentially the same area after Whangerai, so I offered a ride if they didn't mind delaying their plans for a day. Normally, my flexible schedule would've said, "Hey, I'll just leave a day early," but I've learned that while I like helping people, there are certain times I need to stand firm on my wishes: Diving Poor Knights Islands in this case. So, they asked Stu for an extra night, he happily agreed, and we headed to Coromandel together the next day.

After a pleasant drive along the equivalent of the Big Sur coast in forested mountain terrain, I dropped them off at their host in a town that didn't exist on my map (which already had many towns and roads so small that Google doesn't acknowledge them) and drove the hour to my host (Ryan), who lived above his restaurant in a much more central location. After hearing that I had dropped my friends in a town that he had never heard of and apparently couldn't exist because the name violated the grammatical structure of the Maori language, Ryan offered up bunks for A+T if they wanted to stay with us. In the peak season, Ryan provides bunks in his flat for his seasonal staff. Since it's the off-season, the bunks are empty. I proposed the idea (and possibly having to wash dishes) to the girls, and I rescued them from -- albeit a beautiful, remote beach town -- Nowheresville in the morning. We spent the day exploring, then the three of us came to Ryan's aid by volunteering ourselves as restaurant staff for an unexpectedly busy evening. This was the first time I had ever worked in food service...EVER. Taking orders, washing dishes, bussing tables, delivering food, and sampling the menu are all on my list of work experiences now. I actually kind of enjoyed it and since we extended our beachfront Cook's Beach stay by a night, I worked for Ryan the next evening too. The perk of working (volunteering) for a restaurateur is the opportunity to sample food. To thank us for our service, Ryan gave us the full experience, seating us at a table with menus and a dialogue something like "What would you like to start with? And after that? And after that? We shared lots of new not-so-vegetarian dishes: tofu souffle, tuna tartare, prawn tortellini, braised beef cheeks, seasoned asparagus, lamb, a couple desserts, etc. I can't remember the full menu, but let's just say it was a nice luxury for three people that are used to peanut butter and bread. I was also offered seasonal work if I wanted to come back for the holidays.

The girls needed to get to Rotorua the next day, which was a bit ahead of my schedule, but we headed there to find terrible weather. I dropped them at Hobbiton on my way west and we sadly said our goodbyes. I went through a few cities and amazing experiences on my way back to Rotorua (stories for another time) and, while deciding where to go next, I learned that my path was possibly crossing that of A+T. Weather wasn't looking great for a four-day backpacking around Lake Waikaremoana, so I drove to my buddies! They asked their host if I could crash and we ended up staying an extra day there (Napier). Our destinations matched up again, and they skipped their bus south so they could ride with me to Wellington. I remember a point where one stated, "Last Tuesday we said goodbye, but this Tuesday we're riding together." That's what it's all about! We enjoyed a day together in Wellington before they headed south to the other island, a place I would not venture, so our farewells were a bit more certain. A toast of chocolate, bread, and laughter goes out to our travels together!

My Wellington host, Bruce, has surely tired of me. I initially requested three nights with him. Since then, I've declared my departure three and a half times. Anna (different one - this one's Czech) was an unexpected surfer at Bruce's, as her housing hadn't worked out. The three of us had entertaining conversations and shared meals. On my third day, Wellington was pulling me in and I hadn't reached many destinations I'd intended in the city. Though I'd officially moved out, I sent Bruce a text about an additional night. I'd been sleeping on the floor, so I'm a relatively low impact guest. We all paid our own way mealwise as well. He agreed to my postponed departure, but he had already accepted an additional guest, Zuzana (Slovak), so we would be extra comfy. Zuzana and I wandered the city the next day and shared some amazing discussions ranging from life objectives to religions of the world. The problem with extending my Wellington time (besides overstaying my welcome) was that I am in my final week and I have been seeking the ideal weather window to hike the most famous mountains on the island. Each day added in town equaled a day of potential (bad weather mostly) climbable days. However, each night/morning, Z+A tried their best to convince me to stay an extra night. It actually developed to them trying to get me to live here and work the visa issues out. Life becomes rough when you have convincing friends in attractive cities! I'm wrapping up day 7 in this city and I could spend more. My car is due in Auckland six days from now and I fly out in nine. I'm heading north tomorrow. Sadly, it's time to move. Here's to having too many attractive options, great new friends, and flexible hosts!

25-Sept: Confidence

In planning my trips, whether they be working as a nomad or going on an international solo holiday, I receive comments on how courageous I am for venturing out, especially on my own. My response is that it is more of a false confidence: A belief in oneself that you can do it no matter the challenge. There is a point where you just have to convince yourself that this (whatever it may be) is the option that you're taking.

To demonstrate: I'm currently exploring New Zealand, a country with a limited transit system and highways that are generally one lane in each direction (except for bridges which are primarily one lane total). I had wanted to save money and travel via public transport, but there would be many locations I couldn't travel and scheduling would be a pain. The only other option -- and thus the solution -- was to rent a car. Normally I'd have no worry about rental cars, but this is my first country to drive on the left. I watched driving patterns and made sure I understood the right of way, but it wasn't until I pulled out of the agency and onto the street that I tested myself. I've been licensed 15 years, but I was suddenly a new driver: inconsistent speed, not centering myself in my lane...a bit embarassing. What isn't embarrassing, however, is the fact that 2000km in, I haven't bumped anything and I haven't been honked at. Humorous items to note include:

     1) I accidentally turn on the wipers to signal turns
     2) I freaked out (a little) one night in a rural area because what I thought was a flat tire light was actually telling me my emergency brake was on
     3) I still can't center myself in the lane (getting better!)

Confidence can also be exercised by evaluating fears of the unknown and determining that there are no reasonable dangers to actually fear. I spent the night in Trounson Park Kauri Forest specifically for the opportunity to wander around the forest at night to see/hear kiwi, freshwater eels, glowworms, and weta: New Zealand's answer to the Jerusalem cricket. The trail was more or less a loop (scouted during daylight) and I had two red lights for night viewing and a backup flashlight, should the reds fail. The only endemic mammals in New Zealand are bats and the reptiles are small; therefore, there was nothing in the darkness that could eat me. That was a great factor to know because my red lights illuminated about three feet in front of me.

You know what, though? I briefly saw a kiwi next to me (briefly because we scared each other), I spotted an eel hovering around in the creek, and had multiple glowworm sightings. No wetas, but three out of four!

There were three German couples staying in the rain-soaked park with me. They had their camper vans and I my car. Who needs a van?!

 

I bounce around in my head the lines of confidence, trust, and belief. Are they related or even synonymous, depending on the situation? I trusted one pair with my lights so that they could exercise their exploratory nature in the face of a fear of the dark unknown. They saw more than I...