On Photographs (or, What Will 2012 Bring?)

This quarter, I am taking just one class: memoir writing.  In it, we were instructed to choose a photograph---any photograph---which we are to later write a reflective essay on.  Instantly, I thought of this photo:

One of my favorite snapshots of our time in the Dominican Republic, this picture captures a lot of things for me: the peacefulness and reflectiveness of travel, the life of the rural Dominicans, the poverty that sneaks up on you as a traveler, waiting around corners and in between buildings, ready to expose itself when you least expect it.  But most of all, this image captures a moment in time, a place I loved, and an adventure I won't soon forget.

Jarabacoa, where the photo was taken, is a rural mountain town known for its crops: strawberries, coffee, and peppers, as well as its flowers.  It's a beautiful little place with a nonexistent nightlife, not much in the way of tourism, and definitely little to offer the spoiled traveler who came to the DR for the beaches and five-star resorts; but to us, it was a favorite spot, just a two-hour bus ride away.

It's also the place where some pretty crazy things happened: the bat that got stuck in our room and dive-bombed me while I was sitting in bed; the hour-long horse ride through the mud and muck of the jungle, in which my husband and friend complained most of the time (but I really enjoyed); the waterfall excursions and swimming in the pools below; drinking beer in el parque, pretending not to feel out of place as the only gringos there; eating at the same restaurant three times because we couldn't find anywhere else; the final trip with a dear friend of mine in the DR, before we parted ways.  These are the things I love about my travels to Jarabacoa, the things I'll reminisce about for years to come.

And while I was looking for the above picture, I came across this one:

I call this my "explorer pose," because I, well, was trying to look like a traveler/explorer.  To me, this photo, while posed and a bit forced, shows a great deal about me as a person and how I changed in 2009.

Case in point: Doug loves to tell the story of how, shortly after we started dating, I said something like, "Oh, yeah, I don't stay in hotels less than four stars."  At the time, I think Doug just looked at me strangely, not wanting to offend his new girlfriend; later, he told me---and anyone else who would listen---how silly he thought I was for saying such a thing.  (I admit, it was a bit silly.)  But just a little over a year after that statement, here I am, clad in my explorer outfit, living in a new-to-me third-world country, wearing Chacos and my Timbuk2 bag, ready to tackle some adventures.  This is after riding a bumpy bus through winding mountain roads (which, I later learned, is a super deadly and dangerous road), checking into a MUCH less than four-star hotel, and eating some questionable food at a local joint across the street.

Ah, yes, 2009: the year I became tough.

As I look at these photos, I can't help but wonder what the heck I'm doing now.  If 2009 was the year I became tough, 2010 was the year I "went with it" by randomly moving to Asia, and 2011 was the year  my career took off and my hard work was finally recognized, what will 2012 be?

Well, for starters, it can be the year I realized a lifelong goal: writing a book.  But what else?  How will I grow personally, professionally, and spiritually?  How will I find adventure when I'm stuck here in the U.S., not traveling, and not immersing myself in new cultures?  Reaching a lifelong goal isn't enough for me this year; I need to do something big, to keep up with the tradition of years past.

But, really, you can't plan these things.  All you can do is take the opportunities life offers, go with the flow, and try to enjoy it.

I guess I'll just have to let life be what it is and see where it takes me.  As the Dominicans say, "A ver..."

Some Thoughts About Travel

The People's Committee Building, Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam, during Tet holiday

It's official: it's been too long since I've traveled.

I do realize that I flew to Boise a little over a week ago, but that doesn't really count, now does it?  I'm talking real travel.  The what-is-this-stuff-I'm-eating, talking-with-hand-guestures, everything-is-totally-new-and-different sort of travel.

For all the whining I do about wanting to be back in Boise, I really do miss being abroad.  I miss the strangeness of it, the empowerment I feel when accomplishing little things (like taking a taxi by myself for the first time in a new country), the ever-present "otherness" that permeates everything I do.  I miss sitting at a table in Phu My Hung, Ho Chi Minh City, eating yellow noodles, and looking around and realizing how wonderful and full life is.  I miss Sunday mornings: leaving late to get to church at the Notre Dame Cathedral, a lunch of eggs, rice, and baguettes afterwards, ordering coffee at Western coffeeshops.  I even miss Ben Thanh: its stinky fish smell, the hands grabbing at my elbows, the particularly good bootleg DVD stands, the smiles that quickly fade when you decide not to buy.

I even miss the Dominican Republic sometimes: my students, who became like siblings to me; twice monthly trips to amazing beaches; egg sandwiches (sin mayonesa), fresh mango smoothies (sin azúcar), and tostones at that little restaurant in the Zona Colonial; trying not to fall asleep during mass, with the echoey, Spanish words lulling me in the hot, old buildings; cobblestone streets that elicited that feeling of real traveling.

But what does this mean, exactly?  Will this nostalgia lead to more travels, new locales, another home abroad?

For now, we are in Ohio.  But in two years, who knows?  And even if we don't move back abroad, I plan to explore every inch of this world of ours.

Re-entering the World of Academia

Today, it begins: the first day of the next two years.  At 4:00 eastern time, I start my master's in professional writing and editing.

Two years ago, I was making the decision to wait on graduate school.  In fact, two years ago today, I was one and a half months into my position at the Ashton School of Santo Domingo.  I had five classes of Dominican children who disliked me (they came around eventually, but it took them awhile), and I was just starting to explore the country.

One year ago, I was leaving the Dominican Republic, returning to Boise for a few weeks, and then headed off to Vietnam.  And it was six months ago that my husband and I left Vietnam and returned to the States, leaving a region we fell in love with...but jobs we did not.

In a way, graduate school feels like a temporary stasis of travel.  That's fine--expected, even.  But I will miss that part of my life, and I will certainly miss the weekend trips, adventures, and even the danger.

So, today, I re-enter the world of academia.  But this time, it's on my terms: the program is exactly what I need and want to further my goals and career, and I think that the next two years will be rather pleasant, if not a little ordinary.

Here's to the next two years!

What's on Your Bucket List?

While I was teaching in the Dominican Republic, we did a unit on Tuesdays with Morrie.  It really is a lovely little book, and it got us, as a class, thinking about what we'd each individually like to do before we die.  Not in a creepy sense, but it a life-is-too-short sorta sense.  It prompted some interesting discussions, but I haven't really thought much about the topic since then.

Lately, though, I've been hearing a lot of talk about "bucket lists".  I can't help but wonder: do people actually write these things out?  I always thought of a bucket list as a metaphorical thing; it seemed that someone would say, "Oh, yeah, that's on my bucket list!" in reference to any cool thing he or she wanted to do.

Recently, someone specifically mentioned adding an item to his bucket list complete with a number, which gave me pause.  Do people really take these bucket lists seriously?  It seems so.

I think I'd like to get in on this bucket-list-havin' crowd.  So, below, I've started an initial bucket list.  It'll need some refinement, but it's a start, anyhow:

1. Travel every continent of the world extensively.
2. See the seven wonders of the modern and ancient world.
3. Travel Ireland for several weeks/months.
4. See Machu Picchu at sunrise.
5. Skydive.
6. Write and publish a book (as a sole author, not coauthor or editor).
7. Take a Mediterranean cruise.
8. Have artwork on display at an art museum.
9. Build a house near water (preferably the ocean), with a separate writing and art studio.
10. Take a big vacation alone to write, think, and explore.
11. Run a half marathon (this may graduate to a full as I get older).

So, there is is--all written out and numbered.  I officially have a bucket list; it's definitely not a full list, but it's a start.  

What about you?  What's on your bucket list?

I need to do it.

Without being too cliche, this past year has been an emotional roller coaster.  Really, it has.  I have found myself in the most unplanned of circumstances, in the most dreadful of situations, with the most dreadful of persons.  Subsequently, I found myself in the most wonderful of circumstances, in the wonderful of situations, with the most wonderful of persons.  It's been quite a ride.

And, so - I am taking the opportunity to relax for 11 days.  Yes, I actually get to relax.  That is such a foreign thought to me!  I am, in every sense of the word, a hyper-planner.  I plan everything.  I schedule myself for weeks - months - of commitments.  I go to everything I'm invited to and usually get there early to help set up.  I plan the get-togethers, I help people with their birthdays, weddings, design needs, babysitting, etc. etc. etc.  

Don't get me wrong, I love it.  I love being "that person" that people can rely on, I really do.  But, I am also looking forward to no responsibilities, no plans, no agenda, nothing.  Hooray for nothing!  Nothing is wonderful!

So, my trip with consist of leaving my city of trees on July 18th and commencing on what will be my very first time traveling alone.  This is a huge feat for me.  At 22, I have never ridden on a plane alone, found my way in an airport alone, entertained myself on a plane.  I have always had a travel companion.  Always.  And, so, I will make my first trek to Hawaii, Lana'i specifically, all by myself.  Silly, I know, but this is a big deal for me.

I will spend my trip relaxing, having some quality girl-time, and basically being young.  I am taking a step back from the instadulthood that I succumbed to at such a young age.  Hooray for me.  :)

And, now, I have to fight the urge to plan those 11 days.  It's not easy for me...