Saturday, November 5, 2011
Nostalgia: TZ/KN and Running
I had a meeting with a Professor yesterday. The topic: my future. The question: what lies next? He told me about his college degree and after working for a few years, that he realized very quickly that he loved geography and wanted to be involved with that for the rest of his life. "You know, work is going to suck no matter how much you love what you're doing at times. That's just the nature of the beast. But at the end of the day, it's gotta be something you're going to look back on with nostalgia."
Kenya was a lot like that. Today, I can only remember the amazing times that I had there. The way the dried up grass would often prick your feet or the same old food day and day out seem to escape the minds eye and are replaced with moments of ecstasy. Nights when we had guacamole, finishing my first research paper or going to Happy Days for a Tusker after long day of class fill my mind. There was one time when we were less than 72 hours away from crossing the border to Kenya that I went to the bartender, made a deal of an early happy hour with 1000 shilling shots of Smirnoff (about 80 cents) and agreed to be the bartender. It was probably the most fun I have ever had at a bar, EVER. We left and I remember Moses driving the land cruiser up this 2 km hill to get to our home. The farmed hills had never looked so beautiful as the sun gave her final shimmers before heading into the west. It was almost a godly scene. The pupils of my eyes couldn't close enough to it looked like a place that you could picture heaven. Actually, you know that scene at the end of Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers, where Gandolph the White rides down the hill and the entire sky looks white and heavenly. Yeah, imagine that. But in a distant land. See, that's what I remember, the good not the bad.
Now, getting back to the point. At times it sucked. It really sucked and all I wanted to do was go home and eat a delicious cheeseburger with a milkshake. Yes, I would fantasize a lot about the Convention Grill's meal that would be awaiting me upon my return, probably too much. In the end, there is nothing more than I loved than waking up every morning, watching the stars at night, being removed from society and learning about who I am without the distractions of a world where my surroundings are concrete structures and not Kilimanjaro. I love the outdoors. There is something about being secluded that is liberating, much like running.
Now fastforward to last night. It's a late Thursday night/ early Friday morning and the craziest game of baseball I have ever witnessed has just finished. I'm walking into Mcdonalds with my stomach dead set on a quarter pounder with cheese and all of the sudden, I see my pledge brother, Brandon Rukin. He's a great athlete and stellar golfer. We talk for awhile and then he asks me the staple question that almost every person I meet now asks me "Why in god's name do you run that far and how do you enjoy it?"
The answer isn't simple.
Running goes back a long long long way. All the way to third grade when we first ran the mile. It was an autumn day and the sky was clear. I was running for the first time on a track that would become the home to all my track workouts. My teacher said go and I went. I just ran. Nothing, I was in the lead by half way through the first lap and it kept on growing. I was better at this than everyone I knew. I could just keep on going. I remember thinking how big the 400 meter loop was. I won the race by minutes.
In fourth grade, we were to play cops and robbers every day at recess. My high powered gas tank made me a permanent cop. I would run around for 20-30 minutes at a time and just chase people. I had so much energy and I took it out on the playground. I was fast and the robbers were scared. Very scared.
My running never really took off in high school. I was injury prone and there were kids who were a lot better than me. I was getting too caught up trying to prove myself in practice when I should have been trying to prove my self during the races. I would do workouts at speeds that were too fast and wouldn't let my muscles recover properly on easy days often turning them into progression runs. As I started to give up hope on myself, so did my confidence. Running had become part of my soul. It's just who I am.
After a fun, yet disastrous freshmen year of college, I saw myself looking at a bit heavier Elliot in the mirror. Something was missing. The fire that I had as a kid had been completely extinguished. Then the kindling sparked. I put on a pair of running shoes and ran, slow, but ran, and didn't stop. For the rest of the summer, I would go to the gym every day and lift complemented by running. It was hard work, but hey, there wasn't much else to do in the Minnesota suburbs.
I'd kept this up for a few years, until I went to East Africa. I met a guy named Will Stafstrom, who may be the most influential running partner I've worked with. He runs for Bowdoin and runs a 26 minute 8k. Fast kid, much faster than me, but every day, he would slow his pace down so that I could run with him. Slowly, my pace started to drop (as in I was getting faster) and that fire that I had as a young kid was rekindled. I was running one day in the middle of one of the intense school days of directed research. About 2 laps into the run, I had this epiphany. Could I run 26 laps? Could I run 26 laps fast? I bet I could. I knew I could. I am going to. Twin Cities Marathon, I'm doing it.
Ok. So now that I've given a good reason as to why I chose to run that far, I still really haven't answered the core question: Why do I run?
Well, I run because I'm pretty good at it for one thing. Not many people in the world are as good at running as I am, and being someone who strives to be good at whatever I do, running is the sport I excel at most. When I run, I feel free. I am a invincible when I run. Most of the crazy ideas that I have ever thought of and gone with have come during my run. It is here that I decided to go on SFS, it is on a run that I decided to major in Environmental Studies and it was very likely a run where I decided to apply early decision to GW. On my runs, I am free to think about whatever I want and have the time to sort the problems out in my head that truly challenge me. It is on a run that nothing seems impossible. I am immortal when I am on the road. I am liberated. Runs remind me that nothing you want in this world is impossible. That someway, if you really do want something, you can achieve it, and runs allow me to figure out how to achieve it and most of the times, my dreams have become realties. Without running, a part of me would be lost. It is ingrained in my DNA to run. It is where my best thinking comes and my thesis for papers are derived. Without running, I am lost.
Kenya was a lot like that. Today, I can only remember the amazing times that I had there. The way the dried up grass would often prick your feet or the same old food day and day out seem to escape the minds eye and are replaced with moments of ecstasy. Nights when we had guacamole, finishing my first research paper or going to Happy Days for a Tusker after long day of class fill my mind. There was one time when we were less than 72 hours away from crossing the border to Kenya that I went to the bartender, made a deal of an early happy hour with 1000 shilling shots of Smirnoff (about 80 cents) and agreed to be the bartender. It was probably the most fun I have ever had at a bar, EVER. We left and I remember Moses driving the land cruiser up this 2 km hill to get to our home. The farmed hills had never looked so beautiful as the sun gave her final shimmers before heading into the west. It was almost a godly scene. The pupils of my eyes couldn't close enough to it looked like a place that you could picture heaven. Actually, you know that scene at the end of Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers, where Gandolph the White rides down the hill and the entire sky looks white and heavenly. Yeah, imagine that. But in a distant land. See, that's what I remember, the good not the bad.
Now, getting back to the point. At times it sucked. It really sucked and all I wanted to do was go home and eat a delicious cheeseburger with a milkshake. Yes, I would fantasize a lot about the Convention Grill's meal that would be awaiting me upon my return, probably too much. In the end, there is nothing more than I loved than waking up every morning, watching the stars at night, being removed from society and learning about who I am without the distractions of a world where my surroundings are concrete structures and not Kilimanjaro. I love the outdoors. There is something about being secluded that is liberating, much like running.
Now fastforward to last night. It's a late Thursday night/ early Friday morning and the craziest game of baseball I have ever witnessed has just finished. I'm walking into Mcdonalds with my stomach dead set on a quarter pounder with cheese and all of the sudden, I see my pledge brother, Brandon Rukin. He's a great athlete and stellar golfer. We talk for awhile and then he asks me the staple question that almost every person I meet now asks me "Why in god's name do you run that far and how do you enjoy it?"
The answer isn't simple.
Running goes back a long long long way. All the way to third grade when we first ran the mile. It was an autumn day and the sky was clear. I was running for the first time on a track that would become the home to all my track workouts. My teacher said go and I went. I just ran. Nothing, I was in the lead by half way through the first lap and it kept on growing. I was better at this than everyone I knew. I could just keep on going. I remember thinking how big the 400 meter loop was. I won the race by minutes.
In fourth grade, we were to play cops and robbers every day at recess. My high powered gas tank made me a permanent cop. I would run around for 20-30 minutes at a time and just chase people. I had so much energy and I took it out on the playground. I was fast and the robbers were scared. Very scared.
My running never really took off in high school. I was injury prone and there were kids who were a lot better than me. I was getting too caught up trying to prove myself in practice when I should have been trying to prove my self during the races. I would do workouts at speeds that were too fast and wouldn't let my muscles recover properly on easy days often turning them into progression runs. As I started to give up hope on myself, so did my confidence. Running had become part of my soul. It's just who I am.
After a fun, yet disastrous freshmen year of college, I saw myself looking at a bit heavier Elliot in the mirror. Something was missing. The fire that I had as a kid had been completely extinguished. Then the kindling sparked. I put on a pair of running shoes and ran, slow, but ran, and didn't stop. For the rest of the summer, I would go to the gym every day and lift complemented by running. It was hard work, but hey, there wasn't much else to do in the Minnesota suburbs.
I'd kept this up for a few years, until I went to East Africa. I met a guy named Will Stafstrom, who may be the most influential running partner I've worked with. He runs for Bowdoin and runs a 26 minute 8k. Fast kid, much faster than me, but every day, he would slow his pace down so that I could run with him. Slowly, my pace started to drop (as in I was getting faster) and that fire that I had as a young kid was rekindled. I was running one day in the middle of one of the intense school days of directed research. About 2 laps into the run, I had this epiphany. Could I run 26 laps? Could I run 26 laps fast? I bet I could. I knew I could. I am going to. Twin Cities Marathon, I'm doing it.
Ok. So now that I've given a good reason as to why I chose to run that far, I still really haven't answered the core question: Why do I run?
Well, I run because I'm pretty good at it for one thing. Not many people in the world are as good at running as I am, and being someone who strives to be good at whatever I do, running is the sport I excel at most. When I run, I feel free. I am a invincible when I run. Most of the crazy ideas that I have ever thought of and gone with have come during my run. It is here that I decided to go on SFS, it is on a run that I decided to major in Environmental Studies and it was very likely a run where I decided to apply early decision to GW. On my runs, I am free to think about whatever I want and have the time to sort the problems out in my head that truly challenge me. It is on a run that nothing seems impossible. I am immortal when I am on the road. I am liberated. Runs remind me that nothing you want in this world is impossible. That someway, if you really do want something, you can achieve it, and runs allow me to figure out how to achieve it and most of the times, my dreams have become realties. Without running, a part of me would be lost. It is ingrained in my DNA to run. It is where my best thinking comes and my thesis for papers are derived. Without running, I am lost.
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
October
Well, can't say my life has been to intense this month, well at least after the marathon. For the first two days of post marathon, I was in serious pain. Physically, I could barely walk and going down stairs was a nightmare. Mentally, I was annoyed and exhausted. I decided to do what I do best: research. I went to the library and found the journal of sport psychology. There, I found an article about marathon running.
The article stated that when you reach a certain point in the marathon, you mentally exhaust yourself. That is, your brain releases so many chemicals to keep your body moving, it often leads to exhaustion of the neurons. As a result, for a week or two after the marathon, you become kind of depressed and feel sluggish. Some have tried to compare this to giving birth, but the author was male and I'm not sure if anything can compare to that.
I soon found myself in a doctors office asking for a day or two where I could just rest. My legs were still not feeling great, I felt consistently dehydrated even though I was chugging nalgene after nalgene of water and I was tired. With a few days off and some time to veg out, I finally got the rest I needed to go and have some fun. This of course fell short because a constant injury I had throughout high school decided to creep its way back into my life: ITBS, or Illiotibial Band Syndrome.
The "IT Band" is a long inelastic muscle that stabilizes the femur. It is in the outer part of the thigh and can be caused for a myriad of reasons. My first ITBS came from wearing the wrong kind of running shoes, the second time (senior year of high school) came from weak hip abducters. This time, it came from plain old over working an injury prone muscle. For the past few weeks, I've been buying bags of ice at CVS and filling my bathtub with ice cold water and taking ice baths for 15 minutes. Painful as it sounds, the legs quickly go numb and it can make for a somewhat enjoyable experience. The idea is to constrict blood flow to your legs so that the legs can theoretically flush out waste products such as lactic acid and reduce swelling of overused tissue, in my case, the IT band. In addition, I've been using resistance bands to help strengthen my hip abductor and stretching to make sure the muscle releases all the excess blood from the muscle.
I went for my first run yesterday with minimal pain. Pretty awesome! Today, actually about 15 minutes ago, I got back from a 30 minute run and felt great on the last 2 or so miles.
So, now that I've talked way to much about my ITBS problems, I guess all there is left to say is that life is great. I've got great friends from both NatGeo, school and hell even around the world (shout out to my buddy in Australia Matt Zwiebel, can't wait to see you over winter break). Classes are really interesting and I'm being pushed to do my best in both of them.
Overall, when you look at the grand scheme of things, I need to count my blessings rather than my curses. If you add them up, the blessings win by a marathon. I am fortunate to have been born into this particular life and I plan on living it to the fullest. As Titanic's main character, Jack Dawson, would say "I love not knowing what's going to happen when I wake up in the morning, or who I'm going to meet, where I'm going to wind up...I figure life's a gift and I don't intend on wasting it. You never know what hand your going to get dealt next. You learn to take life as it comes at you. To make each day count"
So with that I say: To make it count
The article stated that when you reach a certain point in the marathon, you mentally exhaust yourself. That is, your brain releases so many chemicals to keep your body moving, it often leads to exhaustion of the neurons. As a result, for a week or two after the marathon, you become kind of depressed and feel sluggish. Some have tried to compare this to giving birth, but the author was male and I'm not sure if anything can compare to that.
I soon found myself in a doctors office asking for a day or two where I could just rest. My legs were still not feeling great, I felt consistently dehydrated even though I was chugging nalgene after nalgene of water and I was tired. With a few days off and some time to veg out, I finally got the rest I needed to go and have some fun. This of course fell short because a constant injury I had throughout high school decided to creep its way back into my life: ITBS, or Illiotibial Band Syndrome.
The "IT Band" is a long inelastic muscle that stabilizes the femur. It is in the outer part of the thigh and can be caused for a myriad of reasons. My first ITBS came from wearing the wrong kind of running shoes, the second time (senior year of high school) came from weak hip abducters. This time, it came from plain old over working an injury prone muscle. For the past few weeks, I've been buying bags of ice at CVS and filling my bathtub with ice cold water and taking ice baths for 15 minutes. Painful as it sounds, the legs quickly go numb and it can make for a somewhat enjoyable experience. The idea is to constrict blood flow to your legs so that the legs can theoretically flush out waste products such as lactic acid and reduce swelling of overused tissue, in my case, the IT band. In addition, I've been using resistance bands to help strengthen my hip abductor and stretching to make sure the muscle releases all the excess blood from the muscle.
I went for my first run yesterday with minimal pain. Pretty awesome! Today, actually about 15 minutes ago, I got back from a 30 minute run and felt great on the last 2 or so miles.
So, now that I've talked way to much about my ITBS problems, I guess all there is left to say is that life is great. I've got great friends from both NatGeo, school and hell even around the world (shout out to my buddy in Australia Matt Zwiebel, can't wait to see you over winter break). Classes are really interesting and I'm being pushed to do my best in both of them.
Overall, when you look at the grand scheme of things, I need to count my blessings rather than my curses. If you add them up, the blessings win by a marathon. I am fortunate to have been born into this particular life and I plan on living it to the fullest. As Titanic's main character, Jack Dawson, would say "I love not knowing what's going to happen when I wake up in the morning, or who I'm going to meet, where I'm going to wind up...I figure life's a gift and I don't intend on wasting it. You never know what hand your going to get dealt next. You learn to take life as it comes at you. To make each day count"
So with that I say: To make it count
Monday, October 3, 2011
The Marathon Breakdown
I wake up at 4:45 A.M. I slept like a log. I go and make coffee and oatmeal, then try to go to the bathroom. No luck. I take a shower and am feeling pretty rested. I am not that focused on the race and am feeling pretty calm as well.
We leave the house around 6:20 A.M. I sit in the back seat with Afrojack’s Essential Mix playing. We enter the Metrodome, that disgusting hell hold. Ironically, there is a longer line for the men’s bathroom than the womens. At first I was confused, then I got it, the men have one stall, the women have three. HA. Hilarious. I pulled down my warmups and put on Vaseline all over legs, waistband and armpits. At this point, I changed my music to my “Running Pump Up Music” and targeted Blink-182’s “Anthem Pt. 2” to be my final song before heading out to the starting line. I do a lap around the metrodome, do some light stretching, but there really isn’t much warming up you can do for a marathon since the first few miles are supposed to be very very easy if you are not competing to win. Non the less, I was feeling ready. I was starting in Corral 2 and was not allowed to move into corral 1. I was upset but glad because I had a clear view of the path without people getting in my way. (I was essentially in the second wave of runners).
I took off my long underwear and left behind that and my nalgene, one of the 20 we have at home (Parent’s didn’t care that much when they found out thank god).
So the gun goes off and I get passed by about 50 people on the spot. They are booking it, I laugh and tell myself that I will absolutely pass them along the way, just wait till the half. The first mile I was bored, relaxed and feeling pretty good. I caught up to the tail end of the first group pretty quickly. Matt’s mom, whose known me for the better part of my running career, had told me to make sure I don’t get stuck in the middle, to be on the side so I can just tell people on your left and they will move out of the way. I took her advice and was passing the people that would be running much slower than my intended pace without a problem. We made our way out towards Hennepin and I was feeling good. Mile 2 is where Karen Feder said she would be and I started looking around for her, forgetting that my moustache made me almost impossible to recognize. I make my way up the first hill with ease and then take a hard right towards Lake of the Isles. The first water station is there and I quickly learn that I am going to have to bend these paper cups to an angle to ensure that they actually get in my mouth and not all over my jersey. The Powerade and water are extremely important to be drinking during those first few miles since they ensure that you will be hydrated later on. The first one spills all over me, and the second one is no better. I take a water about 100 meters later and realize I need to go to the bathroom. No point in thinking about that, I’m not stopping. We go downhill where a significant number of people pass me. Tempted as I am, I stick to the plan. No worrying about pace until 7.
Lake of the Isles is packed. So much so that I run on the grass for a bit just so I don’t have to be pushing my way up and elbowing other runners. This happens for about 3 minutes and then I pass the 3:30 group around mile 4. Things start to clear up a bit after that. We make our way towards Lake Calhoun and I finally feel like I have a bit of space to let my legs really open up. I avoid the temptation, but take my first gel pack. I am calm around Calhoun and hit 5 and 6 right on pace. Then there is that hill that every person who runs in Minnesota knows about. The hill between Lake Calhoun and Lake Harriet. From the start point to now, there has been literally no places without people. This hill is the first time I actually hear silence from the crowd. We head towards Harriet, then make our way by the bandshell and then to unknown territory. At about 6.5 I am with a group and we chat for a little bit. There is a gap of about 10 meters between us and them. It was the first amount of tangible distance I had seen between runners. I start to get excited and my legs are starting to feel good. I pick up the pace.
I pass 7 without even knowing it and hit a group of extremely athletic looking women and a few older, less in shape men. Some of them are panting, some of them aren’t. I’m feeling fine. I remind myself that I need to play this race conservatively so I have energy in the true "race" of the marathon. I tell the crowd to make noise and right at the corner of mile 8, I see Dan and Hillary Feder. They looked psyched and I point right at them. A woman on the street offers me a goo (an extremely intense caffine and electrolyte gel) and I am well on my way to picking up the pace yet again. I tell myself to stay calm until at least 10, but really don’t care that much. I’m feeling fresh and know that I could manage a pace like this for another 16.2 miles, I think. Miles 9 through the half are pretty much a blur. My goal was to catch the 3:20 group by the half then work my way down from there. I catch them right at the nick of time. The halfway point is right there and there is a huge crowd of runners. I am right in the midst of them when I cross the halfway point. I look at my watch 97! Perfect. Right where I needed to be. I pick up my pace again and start picking off people left and right. It’s not really until mile 15 that I really started putting myself into a tempo run mentality and it was about here where my miles were down to 6:55s to 7:10s.
I was cruising. Miles 15-19 were the best of my marathon. I picked off more people there than I could have ever imagined. Strong, built men and elite women were falling like dominos. I remember seeing a few men in front of me who had just looked jacked. I had caught up to these guys. Damn son! I thought in a bit more vulgar way. We hit the Minehaha parkway and mile 19 was right there. That meant that we were done with Minneapolis. St.Paul was on the horizon and the finish was way closer than the start. I had been on the road now for about 2:14 and had a very very strong 19 miles. My coach told me that it doesn’t feel like a race until after 18. I was beginning to understand. I went over the bridge and put myself on the farther end so I could pass without pushing. Twas easy.
I was at 20. We were in no man’s land. The crowd was thin. I started to ride with a few other guys for a longish, not incredibly steep hill. Some woman around 21 yelled to us “Only 5.2 miles left” “SHUT UP” this guy and I both said both thinking the exact same thing. I don’t care about how far the damn finish is. I care about getting through mile 21, then working my way through 22, 23,24, 25. We make a left and I see that I’m on Summit Ave. Wow. Relax Elliot. You're not done yet. Keep focused and just stay calm. If you run 7:30s you qualify for Boston!!!” Summit starts with a hill, then houses. Oh those houses. I remember how many times I’ve driven down it, but man oh man is it different now. The crowd is enormous. So much cheering. I am no longer Elliot Upin, but 3187. There weren’t that many people by me at this point, probably people staggered out every 100 meters or so. When you have that much room between people, the crowd is literally cheering just for you. Everyone is going “Smooth stride buddy” “Keep it up” “Lovin’ the stache”.
At mile 22 I finally see my Uncle David out of the corner of my eye and point at him. That was the last time I was going to care about the crowd. Now I run. I felt okay during mile 22 but it had been 5 miles since my last GU and realized that I desperately needed something with caffeine. I hit the wall. By 23 the bad thoughts that I refused had forced their way into my head. I knew exactly where I was. I had grown up in Minneapolis. I knew that Summit had to be almost done with and when I finish Summit, I finish the marathon, kind of. Miles 22-25 were the longest miles of my life. I started looking at my watch more over, and was rejecting water. During other water stops on the later miles, I would feel myself get out of breath whenever I took water. I was toasted. I was going to a dead halt at around 25 and then I saw the Cathedral.
The spot where I knew I was going to finish. I had time to BQ. If a 350 meter run was completed in 2 minutes, I qualified. My brain shot adrenaline to my entire body and I felt like I was finally moving again. I was out of breath, tired and only thought of finishing strong. I looked at my watch with 100 meters left. I was at 3:10:20. I was safe. MISSION COMPLETE…almost! I sprinted to the end and stopped my watch. 3:10:46. I qualified by 13 seconds HAHAHA AWESOME!
I walked to a few people and very faintly said. “I’m going to collapse” They put me in a wheel chair and I was extremely disoriented. The only thing I could only utter the sentence “I BQ’d”. In the medical tent, I was given ice for my left shoulder, which was in the most pain. They put me on a patio chair upside down so the blood could rush back to the rest of my body and out of legs. I tried to stand up but needed help getting on my feet. After a few troubling moments, I finally made it up and started to walk. I was going to be fine. I walked around, drank some Powerade and two chocolate milks. Usually after my long runs, I’m starving, but my stomach wasn’t feeling great. I had eaten about 6 of those Power Gels and getting solid food down wouldn’t start for another hour or two when I devoured a Margherita pizza.
Overall, I wish I hadn’t picked up the pace so much from 15-18 and had an extra gel pack that I would have taken around mile 22. This probably could have saved me some pain down the stretch and having more even splits would have allowed me to break the 3:10:00 barrier. It was a success beyond anything I could have anticipated. I did awesome and felt great. I cannot wait for the next one!
Some fun statistics:
I finished in my age group 6 / 106 (94th Percentile)
I finished overall 405 / 8535 (95th Percentile)
I finished in my sex division 347 / 4857 (93rd Percentile)
Some fun statistics:
I finished in my age group 6 / 106 (94th Percentile)
I finished overall 405 / 8535 (95th Percentile)
I finished in my sex division 347 / 4857 (93rd Percentile)
Friday, September 30, 2011
Race Weekend
I start to think about the race a little bit. Yes, I am competing for a time. I am not running to finish. Finishing isn’t the point for a runner since before puberty. For a runner who at the age of 21, can now say he has been running for over half his life, it is difficult to explain my feelings for the Sunday. You grow up watching runners. You go to the Twin Cities Marathon every years since you can remember and have seen your coaches places in the top 20 on a number of occasions.
The marathon to me, is something very very different than to the general public. It is an 18 mile tempo run followed by an 8.2 mile race. That is how I see it and expect it to be. The lactic acid will not swell my veins until the very final miles and I will be in pain, a lot of it, but nothing compared to that boy. At that point, it will be like any other cross country race, my body will be completely worn to shreds. It will be a mind game. It will require positive thoughts. It will require my favorite songs to be on replay in my mind. It will require inspirational thoughts from those who I look up to most. It will require to think about everything that makes me angry and take that surge of adrenaline out on the pavement. I will fight, no flight this time. It will require me to think about the people I cherish most in this world, my work friends, my family, my AEPi Brothers, my coaches, teachers, rabbis. I will visualize them cheering me on in spirit. I will do anything I can to ensure that I put one leg in front of the other, and fast. Thoughts like only four miles left will not occur.
Lance Armstrong’s “Pain is only temporary” quote will be in my mind. The Wayzata coach who said, “Beautiful, Beautiful, Beautiful” will be there. Jamie Kirkpatrick, Matt Gabrielson and Jason Lemkhule’s sideline words of inspiration will up in that crazy brain of mine.
Now onto logistics. I will not speak about my finishing time this weekend. It is only in my mind and yes, I have a finish time that I want, down to the minute. Matt Olson, will be the only person I really speak to about my times, but here’s the game plan: I will do my first two or three miles slow. Very slow. Dead slow, relatively speaking. My pace will slowly fall for the next ten or so miles as my average pace time will not actually be hit until at least the half. At the half, I expect that I will be feeling pretty good, as I usually have on my pace runs. This is when I shift up the gears. Hoping to go through the half a minute or two slower than what I would be doing if I were running even splits, I will up the pace to a controlled tempo. At this point, I will try to control myself until mile 17 or 18. At mile 18 (or that’s what most pros I’ve talked to say), I will throw my parents my watch and I will run. I will race. I will find some guy and try to pick him off, and like a man climbing a ladder, I will pull myself closer and closer to that beautiful downhill finish. At mile 18, for lack of a better term, shit gets real. This is where my hill runs, tempo runs, strength training and speed work will truly be tested. I have done everything that has been asked of me, and more. My body is well rested and my diet has been strict (except for the few glasses of red wine). Then there is the part that makes me quiver like a child. Those last 4.2 miles. Miles 22-26.2, and yes, that point two will be the hardest of them all. Those are the miles I’ve never run before. These are the miles that will make or break me. And this is where all those nasty thoughts are going to be battling to enter the forefront of my mind. This is where the race no longer becomes a thing of fitness, but a game. A very, very difficult mind game. A mind game that is still unfathomable to a virgin marathoner.
I will finish strong. I refuse to do anything less. My friends and family that are there will be giving me specially prepared fluids and pre cut cliff/power bars on the way. I will burn some 3,300 calories and lose about 2 pounds during this run. Glucose tablets and things of the like will be essential to spike my blood sugar when I absolutely must have it. My entire race depends not only on me, but the success of getting these bags on time. If all the stars align as I assume they will, I will be on top of the world come Sunday afternoon.
Monday, September 12, 2011
Saturday, September 10, 2011
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Monday, September 5, 2011
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
I wake up and I smile. I go to work and I smile. This is the happiest I've ever been in my life. Each day brings new joy from new. I hung out with some fraternity brothers last night that I hadn't seen in months, amazing. I met with some old friends from High School that I still keep in contact with. I can bring joy to other people's lives and it is reciprocal. I am going to try to start blogging more frequently even though my days all end up mashing together.
All the best,
Elliot
All the best,
Elliot
Saturday, August 20, 2011
My New Life
It's been so long since I've updated this blog.
In short, Africa changed my life. I went through an personal odyssey unlike anything else and I came up on top. I wrote my thesis, worked my ass off and made some of the greatest friends that life has to offer. The views, scenery and overall quality of the program was unreal, even though I wasn't convinced at the time, I look back on it with great nostalgia.
I was offered a full time academic internship with National Geographic's Traveler Magazine. Instead of going to school, I will still be considered a full time student, but get to go and do what I love every day. Many people who are reading this right now may be thinking, "Wow, he's so lucky." My father told me when I was in eighth grade that the harder you work the luckier the luckier you get, and that is true. I didn't go to Europe and drink for four months, I went and studied. I worked day in and day out for eight months. I made no money, didn't date, barely drank and had a very quiet 8 months of my life. It was miserable at times and put myself into tears of stress, but on Thursday, the only tears I had were of joy. It goes to show that if you put your mind to it, you can do anything. I believe that every person out there in this world has the capability to do it, the only question is, are they disciplined enough to make their dream a reality?
I have made mine come true, and for that I can only smile. I want the same for the rest of the world. My job is anything but complete, but I am on my way. There is hard work left to do and I am ready to do it. Follow your dreams, discipline yourself and your dreams will come true. I will be the first to attest to that statement.
Many more updates to come. Cannot wait to write more.
Do your work and the dreams will follow,
Elliot
In short, Africa changed my life. I went through an personal odyssey unlike anything else and I came up on top. I wrote my thesis, worked my ass off and made some of the greatest friends that life has to offer. The views, scenery and overall quality of the program was unreal, even though I wasn't convinced at the time, I look back on it with great nostalgia.
I was offered a full time academic internship with National Geographic's Traveler Magazine. Instead of going to school, I will still be considered a full time student, but get to go and do what I love every day. Many people who are reading this right now may be thinking, "Wow, he's so lucky." My father told me when I was in eighth grade that the harder you work the luckier the luckier you get, and that is true. I didn't go to Europe and drink for four months, I went and studied. I worked day in and day out for eight months. I made no money, didn't date, barely drank and had a very quiet 8 months of my life. It was miserable at times and put myself into tears of stress, but on Thursday, the only tears I had were of joy. It goes to show that if you put your mind to it, you can do anything. I believe that every person out there in this world has the capability to do it, the only question is, are they disciplined enough to make their dream a reality?
I have made mine come true, and for that I can only smile. I want the same for the rest of the world. My job is anything but complete, but I am on my way. There is hard work left to do and I am ready to do it. Follow your dreams, discipline yourself and your dreams will come true. I will be the first to attest to that statement.
Many more updates to come. Cannot wait to write more.
Do your work and the dreams will follow,
Elliot
On Friday, we had our home-stay with a local Rhotian family. What an experience. Here's the breakdown:
7:00 P.M.: We eat and then I talk to Professor Yohanna who gave out a test yesterday, but I had a migrane and was advised to sleep instead. I take the test and felt good about it. I have successfully learned the different noun classes and I spend the rest of the night researching for my environmental policy paper before I pass out. It was a good day. It’s been a while since I’ve written anything in my journal. Almost a week. We went to Tangarie National Park on Friday and had an amazing time. We saw 237 Elephants and about 145 Impala! It was unreal. At one point there was a herd of elephants that was fifty strong and stained an entire hill earth brown. We had lunch at this incredible lodge and had a few beers. The group went swimming, but I really didn’t feel a huge desire to go so I kept drinking and taking pictures. We had been there for about two hours when we finally started getting concerned that one of the vehicles had not shown up and a quarter of our group was missing. The rest of the afternoon was spent in panic and worrying about their whereabouts. We were clueless, but eventually they showed up and had told us their car had stalled 16 times in the mud. They were completely filthy and by the time we finally found them, the sun was beginning to set.
8:00 A.M: Breakfast is finished. Erin and I are paired up with Petro, one of the gardeners. He walked us about a kilometer towards Moyo Hill to a small mud house. Inside there was on old man eating porridge, a wife, a son and a daughter. Erin and I were invited in and were told to take a seat on the bed. There was no electricity, paved floors or running water. We stared at each other with questions lingering on our mind about what the day to come would bring us.
8:30 A.M.: The young girl, whose name is Yohanna, brings in Chai Tea. It is made with fresh milk and is extremely rich and filling. The taste is a bit heavy, but Erin and I drink without hesitation.
9:00 A.M.: Erin is given a skirt and I an old pair of jeans. We are told to change into them since we will be out and about for the entire day. We are led outside and are given hoes. We will be weeding the field for a few hours.
10:45 A.M.: We finish weeding the field. It is hot and exhausting. The fields are large and we have grown an appetite for some food. We leave the fields and make our way back to the house where we will be preparing our meal to come. We begin with cabbage, and then we have to cut up the chicken. There are no cutting boards so Yohanna takes part of the chicken, while I cut off small bite size pieces of meat and throw it into the pot. This takes us a good 45 minutes to complete and my hands feel awfully slimy after finishing. We wash our hands, put sanitizer on and then head into the outhouse to build the fire.
11:30 A.M.: We build the fire and put the chicken over it. It sounds and begins to smell incredible. The next part is taking the chicken off and putting the cabbage on. We load it with butter, onions, carrots and tomato. The cabbage releases it's excess water and begins to simmer. It smells delicious. My mouth is watering, this is going to be an excellent meal. Last is the ugali, which is corn meal mixed with water. It is pure starch and not very delicious. It is the worst part of our meal, but we make it and eat it without complaint.
12:15 P.M.: We eat our meal with Yohanna. The chicken is delicious and the cabbage is to die for, wish I could say the same about the ugali. There is no silverware and we eat with our hands. We finish our meal and wash our hands. We are told that we will be resting for the next hour before we start to do work.
12:35 P.M.: I lay down under a tree and close my eyes as the warm sun hits my feet and the breeze goes gently through my curly hair. I listen and hear the birds chirping, and life all around me moving the beat of nature. It is peaceful. I could lay here for hours....and surely we do. The work does not continue and I continue to lie there as the shade of the tree slowly recedes onto my body. Eventually my entire legs are exposed to the sun and Yohanna asks if we would like to go for a hike.
2:00 P.M.: We go for a hike up to Moyo Hill. Erin and I talk a bit about the states and Yohanna tells us about her ambitions about becoming a nurse. She says that more than anything else, money is the problem. We ask her what she thinks about people from the U.S. and she answers with one word: rich. I think about this and realize that even those people working at the cash register of your local fast food restaurant are better off and make more money in an hour than many of these people here, yet as I have stated throughout this entire blog and will continue to state, they are happier. We walk back down to the house and hang out for another half an hour. I climb a tree and get to have a pretty cool view of the world around me. The clouds are slowly filling the sky and the wind is beginning to pick up. I wonder if it's going to rain, but I have my doubts.
3:30 P.M.: We go into the barn and begin to shovel cow manure. We clean out the entire barn, put a fresh layer of dirt above it and empty all the manure with a small bucket. The work is not as bad as one might read and at times it is very zen like. There is a lot of activities in this world that most people would find repulsive, but hey, someones got to do them and we do it well and with a smile on our face.
4:00 P.M.: We play with the chickens and start up another fire to make some chai. The water goes to a boil. We clean the dishes and make our way into the main house where we will drink our chai before we leave. It is about a degree or two shy of boiling when it touches our tongues and we instinctively make faces of pain and shock. Everyone laughs and we slowly finish the tea. It is now 5:15 P.M. and it is time to head back to camp.
5:30 P.M.: Everyone is back, I jump into the shower and take my time. It feels great and my clothes all smell of cow manure and smoke. When I finish, there is a ton of avocados that will be used for the guacamole making contest. It is delicious.
The next day was an ordinary day. Will and I went for a run, and I ended up rolling my ankle about five times in the course of 100 meters. My legs and body were tired, but strong, but that wasn’t the worst. Later that night, I felt a sensation in my left knee like it was bloated and needed to pop. It refused to do so. I have had this experience before, but when I tried to squat to see the full extension of my leg, a sharp pain occurred. The next morning, the entire leg was swollen and felt as if I needed to go and get fluid drained from it. I reasoned that it must have been a sore tendon in my IbBand and that it would probably heal itself. To this day, I still haven’t run, but the swelling has subsided and the knee just feels stiff.
Monday was our day off and I stayed behind on the hike due to my knee. I have learned that pushing myself past my limit usually results in bad news bears. I met up with the group in the afternoon and we went to this upscale lodge. They had a crystal clear pool with a bar in the water. The charge to go swimming was 10 dollars and having no money, I wanted to use a card, but the man, whose name I eventually learned was Sammy, told me there as 50 dollar minimum on my card. Austin, Luke and I discussed the possibilities and agreed that I would put down a 50-dollar tab and we would split it between the three of us. It worked out quite nicely. We were hammering beers left and right and were feeling pretty good. The pool felt amazing and the strong Equatorial sun was clear in the sky. The SPF-15 that I had originally put on was no match for the sun and I quickly became lobster like, but didn’t notice until later that evening. We finished our pool rendez-vous and had a few more beers at Happy Days which was conveniently right next to the resort. At around 4:30 we made our way back to our campsite.
The past few days here have been pretty lackluster. We have had long days of class and the routine has been pretty typical. We finished our observations and am bombarded with work for Environmental Policy. Unlike school back in the states, where there are weeks of intensity and then weeks of dullness, there is a steady stream of work here. The six days of class are starting to feel long, and the need for a greasy American Food is starting to cloud the minds of everyone. For example, Courtney had a dream last night about being sent home by her mom to eat cheese and ice cream and to her surprise the entire group was with her.
In other news, I finished Solitude and really learned a lot from it. Bob’s harmony with nature is clearly evident by the end of the novel and has a new lens on the way he views the world. He is more acute about his actions and how they affect the bigger world and had a deeper understanding of the subconscious of nature. These are lessons I really feel any human can truly learn from. I am currently reading Mark Twain’s Joan of Arc and really love it. It reminds me a lot of the Agony and the Ecstasy except for there is an actual character following Joan of Arc around while Michelangelo’s novel had none.
In all, life here is pretty good. We are gelling together as a group quite nicely and despite a few instances, everyone gets along pretty well. No one is hooking up yet, but it is starting to make sense why. It’s a one and out to many of the people here and as a result, people are pacing themselves to make sure that when they hook up with someone, it is someone they want to be with for a few months and not a few nights.
Pursuit of Solitude and Understanding of Dreams
Valentines Day. Couldn’t care less. The pursuit of solitude has totally captured my mind. Today was our day off. The entire group went out to do a hike. My body was achy and sore, likely because of the hill workout Will and I did yesterday. I am finally beginning to feel strength in my legs and cardiovascular system and if I continue to put my mind to it, I’m sure that a few PR’s will be waiting for me when I return the states. Will is an amazing runner and a really great person. Everyone is here. As I put it, not only is the food organic, the people are too. I have seen changes in myself since the start of the trip and I’ve only known these kids for 10 days. Okay, back to the point. So I finally got to sleep in this morning and it felt amazing. I woke up, didn’t do much and then finished my warthog field observation, which I am really satisfied with. I decided to study their diets and how that plays a role into their body size. Boring to many, interesting to some. I loved the alone time. Maybe my introvert self is blossoming. At 2:45 p.m Moses took a few of us to meet the rest of the group at Happy Days, which is the only bar where we can drink and won’t get looked down upon. The community here is very catholic and sober. I had a meal and got a nice little buzz. It felt great, but realized that I didn’t miss the substances all that much. My body is really enjoying a detox period and so is my mind. I feel healthier, more aware and a more genetically fit human. My mind is constantly finding new frontiers to ponder. I decided today that I would make a conscious effort to remember my dreams.
The first of my dreams consisted of everyone doing well on a test except for me. I received a 45% while the second lowest score was a 74%. I went and tried to understand my feelings behind this, but couldn’t (this is in my dream). I went to my teacher, but he told me that the past was in the past and that I had to let go. For those who truly know me, they know I do fairly well in school, so I’m pretty sure the stressors of my dream were not related in any way to the percentage, but rather to the second part of letting go. Throughout my entire life, there are things that I never seem to shake off. For example, there is a deep part of me that will be upset towards my parents for not letting me play hockey as a child. Being raised in Minnesota, I feel as though it is a cultural thing and almost a necessity, but still, 15 years later, there is still resentment. I resent the fact that I took life too seriously in high school and I even resent the fact that I become too obsessed with money when I am in DC. Hakuna Matata, in Swahili, it means let go/relax. This is one of the goals for the trip and for the near future. I need to make peace with my past, I will never have it again. There is no way of reversing atom rotation so that the events of the past unfold themselves as the future. It won’t happen and I need to get over it. Let go. Live in the present and the future, take the past as a lesson and move on. If you spend to much time looking at what could have been, you will never know what will be. This is constantly a struggle for people in general. This is a life lesson that will only enhance one’s life once learned, not detract from it.
The novelty, as Christina put it, of our trip is beginning to wear off. I am starting to feel a routine and the fact that I am far from home and here is starting to settle in. Last night, I lay by the fire listening to a bunch of people discuss some of the different laws between Kenya and Tanzania. When everyone left, Arthur, our cook, and I began comparing and contrasting our lives and the conversation was nothing short of memorable. In the states, I constantly feel that people are only satisfied with what they don’t have. They constantly buy People magazine, go on various celebrity web sites and put a false image on themselves in order to envision and strive for a life they do not currently have, and for that matter may never have. People in Africa are quite the contrary, they are happy with what they have, they accept their surroundings and make the best of the situations. The grass may be greener on the other side, but they don’t think like that. They accept. They are happy. If in thirty years, I forget all the schooling from Africa and there is one thing that is close to my heart, it is this: Accept what I have, stop worrying about what others have, it’s not yours and accepting that will lead to great happiness. Arthur really appreciated that even though we all come from a land of so much, we are all in search of a greater truth with our lives. We all acknowledge the fact that life may not always be as glamorous as Hollywood may make it out to be, but the pursuit of happiness has no boundaries.
I sit here, at 8:31, listening to the rain hit the roof, it is peaceful. My room is only lit with an LED flashlight and I have my favorite playlist in the background. When I mute my computer, Mikayla is playing her ukulele. It is wonderful here. She has an amazing voice and as I sit back, smell the fresh air and exhale, I realize that even here in this remote place in the world, the grass is very very green.
The first of my dreams consisted of everyone doing well on a test except for me. I received a 45% while the second lowest score was a 74%. I went and tried to understand my feelings behind this, but couldn’t (this is in my dream). I went to my teacher, but he told me that the past was in the past and that I had to let go. For those who truly know me, they know I do fairly well in school, so I’m pretty sure the stressors of my dream were not related in any way to the percentage, but rather to the second part of letting go. Throughout my entire life, there are things that I never seem to shake off. For example, there is a deep part of me that will be upset towards my parents for not letting me play hockey as a child. Being raised in Minnesota, I feel as though it is a cultural thing and almost a necessity, but still, 15 years later, there is still resentment. I resent the fact that I took life too seriously in high school and I even resent the fact that I become too obsessed with money when I am in DC. Hakuna Matata, in Swahili, it means let go/relax. This is one of the goals for the trip and for the near future. I need to make peace with my past, I will never have it again. There is no way of reversing atom rotation so that the events of the past unfold themselves as the future. It won’t happen and I need to get over it. Let go. Live in the present and the future, take the past as a lesson and move on. If you spend to much time looking at what could have been, you will never know what will be. This is constantly a struggle for people in general. This is a life lesson that will only enhance one’s life once learned, not detract from it.
The novelty, as Christina put it, of our trip is beginning to wear off. I am starting to feel a routine and the fact that I am far from home and here is starting to settle in. Last night, I lay by the fire listening to a bunch of people discuss some of the different laws between Kenya and Tanzania. When everyone left, Arthur, our cook, and I began comparing and contrasting our lives and the conversation was nothing short of memorable. In the states, I constantly feel that people are only satisfied with what they don’t have. They constantly buy People magazine, go on various celebrity web sites and put a false image on themselves in order to envision and strive for a life they do not currently have, and for that matter may never have. People in Africa are quite the contrary, they are happy with what they have, they accept their surroundings and make the best of the situations. The grass may be greener on the other side, but they don’t think like that. They accept. They are happy. If in thirty years, I forget all the schooling from Africa and there is one thing that is close to my heart, it is this: Accept what I have, stop worrying about what others have, it’s not yours and accepting that will lead to great happiness. Arthur really appreciated that even though we all come from a land of so much, we are all in search of a greater truth with our lives. We all acknowledge the fact that life may not always be as glamorous as Hollywood may make it out to be, but the pursuit of happiness has no boundaries.
I sit here, at 8:31, listening to the rain hit the roof, it is peaceful. My room is only lit with an LED flashlight and I have my favorite playlist in the background. When I mute my computer, Mikayla is playing her ukulele. It is wonderful here. She has an amazing voice and as I sit back, smell the fresh air and exhale, I realize that even here in this remote place in the world, the grass is very very green.
My thoughts run wild...
February 11, 2011
The past few days have been life changing. We had our first full day of lecture and were extremely exhausted. Waking up at 6:15 in the morning to go run, followed by a long day of learning feels a bit like high school again. I’m a bit annoyed with it, but I have adjusted and am starting to appreciate being up for sixteen to eighteen hours every day. Our lectures have been a bit boring, but that’s primarily because we are reviewing so much material we have already gone through. By noon, the temperature is in the high eighties/ low nineties. The food is repetitive now and the American cravings are starting to set in. I had a serious urge for some Annie’s Mac n Cheese the other day. In the afternoon, we were to go and do field observations of Lake Manyara National Park. We arrived at the park and it was hot. I had already gulped down a full water bottle and had one more remaining. For the first three or four kilometers, all we saw were tall trees and baboons, but that was all about to change. There was another van stopped in front of us with all the lenses pointed to the brush. As we pulled up, there was an elephant feeding. It was a mother with it’s young. Jaws were dropped. Every part of my body felt alive as I saw the first true signs of intense African Wildlife. We continued to see animals all throughout the day, but it didn’t seem as natural as I thought. For starters, there were many other people around. In my mind, I had always envisioned an Into the Wild type experience. That is, complete solitude with nature. Anger, frustration and anxiety started to take over my feelings since this was clearly not the case. I don’t know what it is about being alone with nature, but the fact that I came to Africa to get so far away from the Western World, but felt so close to it at the park really bothered me. It was very unnatural despite that being the reasoning for everyone being there. We wandered around the park for a bit more, saw some more animals, but still felt a bit annoyed. We saw a baboon mating which was pretty awesome.
We spent the next morning at the park observing baboons for two and half hours, it was very peaceful and I could have observed them all day. They are so human like it’s almost scary. After a while, some of the infant baboons began to climb and play on the hood of our car. I was completely amused, but the girls seemed a bit frightened. We made our way back to the camp and when we arrived there was a beautiful white goat there. It was the goat that we would be slaughtering in a few hours. The classes passed and everyone was near asleep in Environmental Policy. We were supposed to watch a movie for the last hour of class, but the video wasn’t working so we decided to go and watch the slaughtering of the goat.
Yohana, our Swahili teacher, along with a few other locals took the goat to the back of the garage. Set it down, grabbed it’s head so it wouldn’t squeal in pain, and slit it’s throat. At first, it was extremely hard to watch, but then it almost became beautiful. The goat immediately started to spasm as the blood started to gush into the bucket that would be later used for soup. Now, fellow reader, you must be wondering how something like this could be beautiful and that is exactly what I am going to tell you. As we were watching the goat being slaughtered, I was fortunate enough to have a clear view. The spasms began to slow and then all of the sudden there was this final exhale, a breath more spiritual than anything I have ever felt, heard or seen before. The balance between life and death was so thin that it is almost scary. The goat was dragged towards a tree where it was hanged upside down and skinned. Amazing. While many, if not most, would find this repulsive, there was a real beauty to it. That goat was at peace. It didn’t feel the skinning. It was unaware of anything. It was no longer living. There would never be pain, hunger or any of the struggles that we living things go through every day. It made death that much more interesting. I was awe inspired. Not to kill obviously, but the fact that the discussion that Austin, Mikayla and I had the other day seemed to really sink in at that moment. Death isn’t something that is supposed to be painful; no it is quite the opposite. It is peaceful and spiritual. I have never been one to think of spirits, but I can definitely understand why so many people through so many thousands of years believe in them. Two hours later, we were devouring the goat. It was delicious, and really weird to think about. We had just seen that goat not only be killed, but skinned and the entire process. It makes me appreciate the beauty of my life. How easy death can occur should really humble any human. We are not immortal, we are very mortal, one mistake and it could be over, but you won’t know it’s over because you won’t be there to process it. Sorry if this sounds really sad, but these are just some of the things that I was thinking about when this entire process was occurring. We sat by the fire later that night and continued to bond with one another. The entire night seemed to have this spiritual aura in the air. It was very peaceful.
February 12, 2011
I’m feeling a bit homesick right now. Maybe I’m not. I don’t know, the point is something is bothering me. I am used to being such a people person, but lately, all I have wanted is to be alone. In fact, I am happiest when I am alone and away from everyone else. I find myself falling into books more often than not and when I am disturbed from my own schedule, I feel a bit annoyed. It has been weird trying to adjust to this selfless lifestyle since my lifestyle in the states is nothing short of selfish. Maybe this is what change feels like. Maybe I am being reborn the way I wanted to be reborn. Whatever it is, there are moments of ecstasy and there are moments of agony. The book I am reading, Solitude, is the story of a man who spends an entire year alone in the Patagonia wilderness. I find him, much like I find Chris McCandless, inspiring. He writes in a diary every day and there is a quote that I was reading to me that I really love and find true to myself. “This is a problem with all my relationships. The most serious case is with myself. I feel I somehow own myself and feel the right to control what I do and feel and what happens to me. From there it follows that the world is mine to do with as I wish. But I didn’t make me, nor do I own me or the world. I’m just part of the flow of existence” (Kull, 102). Throughout my entire life, I feel as though I need to be in control. If I don’t have the power, I am miserable. For the past year, I have been going through a self- rejuvenation. I have been working on letting things that I cannot control be and focusing on the things I can control. I still struggle with it, but I am closer to understanding this concept than I was a year ago and this is, in my mind a step of maturity. I used to always need to talk about myself. I would be constantly giving monologues when I should be having a dialogue with people. I have made a conscious effort to not tell too much about myself and only speak when asked. There have been improvements. As I mentioned earlier, there is an importance in listening. Every individual thinks they are great, people don’t want to hear about how great you are, they like talking about themselves. I am learning that letting these people talk about themselves to me makes me a much more likeable person. I am open and if someone has a question about my life, I will gladly respond, but I am sick of it always being about me.
So Elliot, what is that you long to be? A part of me longs to be an introvert. That’s not a joke. I wish at times I wasn’t as friendly as I am constantly perceived. I wish that I could hide in my own thoughts. I think a part of my own odyssey is a transition to a more introverted self. Getting back to my original thoughts of this entry, I am finding alone time more and more desirable. I am constantly exhausted when I am around people and find happiness in sharing my own thoughts with this journal I am keeping. Today for example, I spent my entire free time alone. I skipped lunch to listen to one of my favorite album, Blink-182, and then went for a run. I had absolutely no desire to be around people. My own company was all I needed and all I really wanted. In class, I kept quiet and the second class was over, I disappeared to read my book, and now here I am writing while the rest of the group plays games and intermingles with one another. Am I really changing this fast? Is it the solitude that I came here in search of? A part of me longs to be the next Chris McCandless, no, every part of me longs to be him. Well, everything except for the death. I guess I should start changing my views to Robert Kull, who spent a year alone and lived to tell the tale. Non-the-less, these men seek their own inner peace. These men want to find truth within themselves and not through others. Maybe that’s why I was so frustrated when I was at Lake Manyara National Park. It may sound selfish, but what I really wanted was to be alone with the animals. I wanted there to only be the sound of nature. I guess once in a while, even the most extraverted of people need to hide in their shell to seek knowledge. Perhaps, for the past few years, I have been longing for this solitude and find myself frustrated that I have not yet had the chance to experience it. Maybe what’s really bothering me is the fact that I want to be completely alone from the world for an extended period of time and have yet to find that solitude. One day, I will do such an adventure. One day I will be completely away from society. I talked a lot about ex communicating myself when I was here in Africa, and writing this entry has helped me understand why. My next great rebirth of my life may very well not be from Africa, but solitude.
The past few days have been life changing. We had our first full day of lecture and were extremely exhausted. Waking up at 6:15 in the morning to go run, followed by a long day of learning feels a bit like high school again. I’m a bit annoyed with it, but I have adjusted and am starting to appreciate being up for sixteen to eighteen hours every day. Our lectures have been a bit boring, but that’s primarily because we are reviewing so much material we have already gone through. By noon, the temperature is in the high eighties/ low nineties. The food is repetitive now and the American cravings are starting to set in. I had a serious urge for some Annie’s Mac n Cheese the other day. In the afternoon, we were to go and do field observations of Lake Manyara National Park. We arrived at the park and it was hot. I had already gulped down a full water bottle and had one more remaining. For the first three or four kilometers, all we saw were tall trees and baboons, but that was all about to change. There was another van stopped in front of us with all the lenses pointed to the brush. As we pulled up, there was an elephant feeding. It was a mother with it’s young. Jaws were dropped. Every part of my body felt alive as I saw the first true signs of intense African Wildlife. We continued to see animals all throughout the day, but it didn’t seem as natural as I thought. For starters, there were many other people around. In my mind, I had always envisioned an Into the Wild type experience. That is, complete solitude with nature. Anger, frustration and anxiety started to take over my feelings since this was clearly not the case. I don’t know what it is about being alone with nature, but the fact that I came to Africa to get so far away from the Western World, but felt so close to it at the park really bothered me. It was very unnatural despite that being the reasoning for everyone being there. We wandered around the park for a bit more, saw some more animals, but still felt a bit annoyed. We saw a baboon mating which was pretty awesome.
We spent the next morning at the park observing baboons for two and half hours, it was very peaceful and I could have observed them all day. They are so human like it’s almost scary. After a while, some of the infant baboons began to climb and play on the hood of our car. I was completely amused, but the girls seemed a bit frightened. We made our way back to the camp and when we arrived there was a beautiful white goat there. It was the goat that we would be slaughtering in a few hours. The classes passed and everyone was near asleep in Environmental Policy. We were supposed to watch a movie for the last hour of class, but the video wasn’t working so we decided to go and watch the slaughtering of the goat.
Yohana, our Swahili teacher, along with a few other locals took the goat to the back of the garage. Set it down, grabbed it’s head so it wouldn’t squeal in pain, and slit it’s throat. At first, it was extremely hard to watch, but then it almost became beautiful. The goat immediately started to spasm as the blood started to gush into the bucket that would be later used for soup. Now, fellow reader, you must be wondering how something like this could be beautiful and that is exactly what I am going to tell you. As we were watching the goat being slaughtered, I was fortunate enough to have a clear view. The spasms began to slow and then all of the sudden there was this final exhale, a breath more spiritual than anything I have ever felt, heard or seen before. The balance between life and death was so thin that it is almost scary. The goat was dragged towards a tree where it was hanged upside down and skinned. Amazing. While many, if not most, would find this repulsive, there was a real beauty to it. That goat was at peace. It didn’t feel the skinning. It was unaware of anything. It was no longer living. There would never be pain, hunger or any of the struggles that we living things go through every day. It made death that much more interesting. I was awe inspired. Not to kill obviously, but the fact that the discussion that Austin, Mikayla and I had the other day seemed to really sink in at that moment. Death isn’t something that is supposed to be painful; no it is quite the opposite. It is peaceful and spiritual. I have never been one to think of spirits, but I can definitely understand why so many people through so many thousands of years believe in them. Two hours later, we were devouring the goat. It was delicious, and really weird to think about. We had just seen that goat not only be killed, but skinned and the entire process. It makes me appreciate the beauty of my life. How easy death can occur should really humble any human. We are not immortal, we are very mortal, one mistake and it could be over, but you won’t know it’s over because you won’t be there to process it. Sorry if this sounds really sad, but these are just some of the things that I was thinking about when this entire process was occurring. We sat by the fire later that night and continued to bond with one another. The entire night seemed to have this spiritual aura in the air. It was very peaceful.
February 12, 2011
I’m feeling a bit homesick right now. Maybe I’m not. I don’t know, the point is something is bothering me. I am used to being such a people person, but lately, all I have wanted is to be alone. In fact, I am happiest when I am alone and away from everyone else. I find myself falling into books more often than not and when I am disturbed from my own schedule, I feel a bit annoyed. It has been weird trying to adjust to this selfless lifestyle since my lifestyle in the states is nothing short of selfish. Maybe this is what change feels like. Maybe I am being reborn the way I wanted to be reborn. Whatever it is, there are moments of ecstasy and there are moments of agony. The book I am reading, Solitude, is the story of a man who spends an entire year alone in the Patagonia wilderness. I find him, much like I find Chris McCandless, inspiring. He writes in a diary every day and there is a quote that I was reading to me that I really love and find true to myself. “This is a problem with all my relationships. The most serious case is with myself. I feel I somehow own myself and feel the right to control what I do and feel and what happens to me. From there it follows that the world is mine to do with as I wish. But I didn’t make me, nor do I own me or the world. I’m just part of the flow of existence” (Kull, 102). Throughout my entire life, I feel as though I need to be in control. If I don’t have the power, I am miserable. For the past year, I have been going through a self- rejuvenation. I have been working on letting things that I cannot control be and focusing on the things I can control. I still struggle with it, but I am closer to understanding this concept than I was a year ago and this is, in my mind a step of maturity. I used to always need to talk about myself. I would be constantly giving monologues when I should be having a dialogue with people. I have made a conscious effort to not tell too much about myself and only speak when asked. There have been improvements. As I mentioned earlier, there is an importance in listening. Every individual thinks they are great, people don’t want to hear about how great you are, they like talking about themselves. I am learning that letting these people talk about themselves to me makes me a much more likeable person. I am open and if someone has a question about my life, I will gladly respond, but I am sick of it always being about me.
So Elliot, what is that you long to be? A part of me longs to be an introvert. That’s not a joke. I wish at times I wasn’t as friendly as I am constantly perceived. I wish that I could hide in my own thoughts. I think a part of my own odyssey is a transition to a more introverted self. Getting back to my original thoughts of this entry, I am finding alone time more and more desirable. I am constantly exhausted when I am around people and find happiness in sharing my own thoughts with this journal I am keeping. Today for example, I spent my entire free time alone. I skipped lunch to listen to one of my favorite album, Blink-182, and then went for a run. I had absolutely no desire to be around people. My own company was all I needed and all I really wanted. In class, I kept quiet and the second class was over, I disappeared to read my book, and now here I am writing while the rest of the group plays games and intermingles with one another. Am I really changing this fast? Is it the solitude that I came here in search of? A part of me longs to be the next Chris McCandless, no, every part of me longs to be him. Well, everything except for the death. I guess I should start changing my views to Robert Kull, who spent a year alone and lived to tell the tale. Non-the-less, these men seek their own inner peace. These men want to find truth within themselves and not through others. Maybe that’s why I was so frustrated when I was at Lake Manyara National Park. It may sound selfish, but what I really wanted was to be alone with the animals. I wanted there to only be the sound of nature. I guess once in a while, even the most extraverted of people need to hide in their shell to seek knowledge. Perhaps, for the past few years, I have been longing for this solitude and find myself frustrated that I have not yet had the chance to experience it. Maybe what’s really bothering me is the fact that I want to be completely alone from the world for an extended period of time and have yet to find that solitude. One day, I will do such an adventure. One day I will be completely away from society. I talked a lot about ex communicating myself when I was here in Africa, and writing this entry has helped me understand why. My next great rebirth of my life may very well not be from Africa, but solitude.
The Philosophic Discussions Have Begun.....
Wow. Where do I even begin? I’ve been here only a week, yet my life is starting to change so much. I was able to skype with my parents for a bit, which was really amazing. I miss them and I hope that I can extend my trip after Africa so they can come and visit (and I can stay here).
Yesterday was our first day of classes, we woke up at 6:15 to help with breakfast crew, my job was to butter make the toast. It was amazing how fast I was able to wake up considering I can’t recall the last time I actually was up willingly at the break of dawn. At 8, we have our first class, which is wildlife ecology. We do a review of what ecology is and some of the key terms we need to know for the semester. Next is Swahili. The class is a little rambunctious, but it’s all in good fun. We go through the Swahili alphabet. They have all the same letters as in English except for Q. Before we know it, it’s time for lunch. We eat the same thing almost every day, but it is amazing non-the less. The Saracha sauce I bought an hour before I left has been a hit here at the camp and am sure that if we do not rationalize properly, it will be gone before we know it. We have an hour break in between and I take a short siesta. Austin, who I will talk more extensively about later, brought a slack line and when I was trying it out, I fell straight on my ass and completely bruised the lower half of my back. I spent the rest of the day (and still) in lower back pain. Our last and final class of the day is Environmental Policy. It is a two-hour class and the teacher’s accent makes it very difficult to understand. By the end of class, I had made a paper football and we were all flicking field goals and getting restless. Lesson of the day: Sit in the front of the classroom for Environmental Policy. We are finished by 4 in the afternoon and decide that we will go to the local market to browse around and do a bit of haggling.
The market is unreal. Instantly we are bombarded with Africans trying to sell us necklaces, bracelets and small figures. I am followed by a man whose name I eventually learn is James. He is persistent and begins to cry in front of me telling me he has no way of getting back to his home. At this point I should have asked him how he was able to get to the market if he didn’t have any money, but my better half felt for him and he suckered me into buying a few bracelets and necklaces for much more than they were worth. I spent 10,000 shillings (roughly 8 dollars) on four necklaces and two bracelets. Allie comes out of nowhere and we spend the rest of the time wandering around the market. We are constantly asked to purchase stuff and after a while we get fed up with it and tell people “Tokah!” which in Swahili means “Go away” or more vainly “Piss off”. Mel was being followed by one person and when she told the man she was too poor to afford anything, she was given a look of disgust and was answered by, “You have no idea what poor is”. Still, everyone here is happy. We head back to our vehicles and a man sees me walking with my water bottle. He tries to bargain with me and trade me a piece of Ebony tree (endangered) for the water bottle. I try to explain to him that we are all environmentalists and that we do not want to have anything that would be damaging to the local ecosystems, he does not understand. He tries and tries and tries, but still I refuse. At 5:30 we make our way back to the Field Station and get ready for dinner.
Dinner’s here are amazing. Every night we have fresh guacamole, an assortment of fruits and vegetables, pasta and rice. Josh, who started the fine dining committee, purchased a sugar cane for dessert and we watched as Arthur, our cook, begin to hack away at the plant. It tastes sweet, but bland. You suck out the juice until there is nothing but fiber remaining and then you spit out the rest. Josh also tells us that he found out how much it would be to purchase a goat and everyone who would like to have fresh goat in the upcoming week needs to give him money. Everyone is interested and we all throw in 2000 shillings ($1.50 each) for a live goat that will be slaughtered and eaten very soon. I am starting the Star Gazing Platform Committee where we will build a platform for us to stargaze on so that we can avoid the risk of being bitten by a snake at night. People seem enthused and the planning will be started later today (kind of wish Zach Kahn were here to help build it).
Everyone is playing banana grams and enjoying life in what I think of is semi-solitude. Eventually we all make our way out to the bonfire and play hot seat. Hot Seat for those of you who do not know is where you are put on the spot and bombarded with question which you have to answer truthfully. Everyone here is non-judgmental and are willing to share anything with the group. Eventually people start to leave, but Austin, Mikayla and I lay down to look up at the night sky. It is the first time in my life that I’ve ever been able to see the Milky Way and it truly is surreal. The discussion soon turns into a philosophic conversation.
I’m going to dive into a bit of what we said. I am brutally honest in these journals and if someone is offended with any of these ideas, I am sorry. Our conversation starts with religion. We all think pretty agnostically, however we all feel that religion is important not for the beliefs, but for the values it teaches and the time it enables you to have to spend with your family. We all believe that the concept of a God watching over us a bit outdated and that people are extremely ignorant when it comes to some religious beliefs. There are so many views of a higher power in this world, yet we cannot prove or disprove any of it. We all agree that in order for society to thrive, we need to break the bonds of an all seeing power and an afterlife. We believe that there is intelligent life out there and that we are far from the most advanced society in the universe. We discuss the benefits of natural selection among the human race and what our purpose in life is. Mikayala begins with how for 10,000 years we have done nothing but destroy the earth and how sad it is. I nod, but add that it is also our gift. It is up to this generation to save the earth and if we can do so our names will be stamped in the history books for the rest of the human race.
In addition, we all believe that there is a multi-verse where laws of physics are completely different than those in our own universe. The universe is the next thing we begin to talk about and the insignificance of our lives. Seriously, I truly believe that when it comes down to it, we are chemistry and that our lives, according to the universe, serve no purpose whatsoever. It is a bit depressing to think about, but at the same time, it makes our life so much more beautiful. We came from stardust and we will one day return to the stars to form new planets and potentially new life. Think about it. Every atom in your body has come from somewhere. In all likelihood, the atoms that we have are the same atoms that were in living dinosaurs, volcanic ash and supernovas. It is a bit mind-blowing to think about since we all are looking at the star lit night sky.
Our discussion dives deeper into death. Austin makes a point that I find to be very very true. He uses the anecdote about college and how he was scared of going to college, but all of his friends have done it and have done it successfully, so why is there a reason to be scared. The same goes for death. Everything living thing on this planet dies. That is a fact. It didn’t hurt before we were born, so why should it hurt after? There is no immortality on this earth. The beauty of our life is that it is limited. We all study processes that happened far in the past and dive deep into the future, which infuriates us all because we all want to know what happens. I add that I wish I could be alive for one day every million years just to see where life has evolved, how plate tectonics have shaped the world and what our species (if it is still around) will be like. We all say now that we want to live forever, but at the same time, there is so much we have not yet lived and by the time we are no longer the youngest generation in our family, our thoughts will in all likelihood change.
The last, and probably the most important thing we begin to talk about is happiness. At school, I am constantly convinced that the things I have make me happy, but I am so wrong. I am probably happier here than I have been at school. I am as happy as I was on EIE and interestingly, it is when I remove myself from the material world that this happens. Why is this? Is happiness internal rather than external? No. It is a balance of both. Happiness comes only through living things. Thing that can feel happiness that way we can. That is where happiness comes from. Happiness to me is not about how nice my clothes are, how expensive my car is or my check book. It is far from it. When I spend my time trying to focus on those things and searching from happiness with inanimate objects, I constantly find myself depressed. When I remove myself from that life and seek happiness in others, I am ecstatic and at peace. I am anxious about this thought since I am afraid that I will fall back into the other category when I return to the states, but hopefully this understand will help me to avoid the mistakes I have made for quite some time. It is now 12:30 in the morning and we have been talking for two and half hours. I don’t think there are many people at school that I could have this conversation with and it saddens me that I can’t. Or can I? Maybe it’s me who hasn’t made the effort at school to be as happy as I can be. Maybe everyone at school is looking for these conversations, but cannot find the right person to talk to these things about. I am amazed at how close I have become with all these people in such a short amount of time. In less than a week, I know more about these people than some of my closest friends at school. Maybe it’s the fact that I know I won’t be judged here the way I would be back in the states or maybe it’s the underlying idea that we all think alike and have very similar interests. Whatever it is, there is magic in the air. Don’t get me wrong. I love my friends at home and I would do anything for them, but I wish that I could have more conversations like the one I had with Austin and Mikayla. I wish we could talk more about these abstract ideas than where we are going for the night. The night before I left for school, I was chilling with Levy, Vila, Cummings, Levin, Shore and a few others. We had a great conversation and I hope that these conversations will only intensify when I return to the states and the people I don’t have the conversations with will be more willing to share their thoughts with me. My grandparents have taught me that knowledge and wisdom do not come through speaking; they come through listening. I want to listen to each of your ideas about these topics I have begun to discuss. I want to know what makes you happy and what happiness means to you. I want to know about your views on religion, materialism, meaning of life and where in the hell we come from. I want to know it all and the beauty behind it is that I don’t have an eternity to learn it all, I have a lifetime.
February 5th, 2011
First (Full) Day in Tanzania
The rest of our day was very mundane. We spent the rest of the time in the airport sleeping and waiting for our flight to Tanzania. On the flight I sat next to Erin who goes to school at Whitman College in Walla Walla, Washington. She tells me about her reasons for going on SFS, her life at home and why there is a picture of her brother on her water bottle. I open my book and read for the rest of the flight.
Forty five minutes later we are in Tanzania and need to go through customs. With little difficulty, we have finally finished our airplane travels and are greeted by Erica, the student affairs coordinator for SFS. We board our Toyota Land Cruisers and make our way to Arusha where we will sleep for the night before we head to our field station. Christina and I joke around for a bit in the car before I pass out. At the hotel, I get to my room and fall face first on my bed and will not wake up until 3 A.M. Hot, sweaty and smelly, I decide that I should take a shower. Expecting to be blasted by cold water, I am delighted to see a hot water faucet. I take a quick shower, brush my teeth and head back to bed.
Luke and I wake up within minutes of each other at 6 A.M. I take a few pictures of our hotel, pack my bag and head downstairs to meet the rest of the group for breakfast. We eat eggs, coffee, fresh watermelon and a delicious Watermelon, Tomato and Mango beverage (seriously, it’s unreal). Our driver and counselor for the trip, Moses, watches me take out my enormous pill bag and jokes that I could start my own pharmacy downtown. After finishing the meal, we board our Toyota’s and head west to our field station. Getting out of Arusha was downright tedious. Traffic weaves in and out of one another and people are constantly running through traffic. An ambulance had to make way and cut a small lane in the center of the road where 15 cars would follow in attempt to shorten their drive to wherever they were going. Eventually the traffic thinned and we began our journey. The air smells cleans, the landscapes are breathtaking. Flat plains surround us and in the distance mountains that seem to reach the heavens paint a picture too beautiful for words to describe. We pass coffee fields, eucalyptus trees and locals attending to their livestock (mostly goats and cattle). The houses begin to dwindle and soon everything that one would find in civilization vanishes. Houses become mud huts, pants, t-shirts and shoes become linen and sandals and so much more. We are about 20 minutes away from the camp when we finally see our first taste of true African Wildlife. In the bush, about 100 meters away from the road, a giraffe is grazing on shrubs and trees. There are 3 other cars and tourists taking photos. We jump out and take our first peak. Then, another giraffe pops out and then another. It takes everyone’s breath away. It hits us that we are really here and that this adventure will be stamped in our memories for the rest of our lives.
We get back into the car and begin to travel through the local towns. All seem very run down, but there is one thing that keeps these towns thriving, happiness. Everyone we see is smiling and enjoying their life. We are in one of the poorest countries of the world, but they are wealthy in happiness, and when people are happy, nothing else really matters. I hope to learn from them this important life lesson.
We finally arrive at the field station and are greeted by all the staff. We take a tour of the our new home, and spend the rest of the afternoon playing cards, getting to know one another and learning a bit of Swahili. At 4:30, we make our way to Moyo Hill, a 25 minute hike where we can see miles upon miles of Tanzania. It is a bit depressing when I first look. There are pockets of thick bush surrounded by an abundance of barren terrain. Years ago, these barren places would have been flourishing with trees. We are in Tanzania for that reason. We are here to learn how to find the balance between letting the people of Tanzania thrive as well as the ecosystems. We are here to bring harmony to a damaged ecosystem. We make our way back to the camp, eat dinner and hang out for the rest of the night. When the sun sets, we are surrounded by the stars. It is magical. The sky is illuminated with little white specs. More so than in rural Wisconsin, Israel, Palm Springs or any place I have ever been. Once again, my breath is taken away. Tired and exhausted, I go to sleep.
We wake up at 7 the next morning and go for a run. None of us are used to the elevation and within seconds we are all panting for air. Hopefully, by the time we are headed to Kenya, my lungs will not have a problem with the elevation. We get back, eat breakfast and hang out anxiously awaiting the arrival of the delayed group (the ones who got snowed-in in Newark). They arrive and we are finally all here. We introduce ourselves and have orientation. We head to the local village and see what there is to see. It is run down and everyone is looking at us. However, everyone is smiling and happy. I want to learn so badly what they know so well. We wander around for 20 minutes and make our way back to our new home where I am sitting now writing this journal entry.
Forty five minutes later we are in Tanzania and need to go through customs. With little difficulty, we have finally finished our airplane travels and are greeted by Erica, the student affairs coordinator for SFS. We board our Toyota Land Cruisers and make our way to Arusha where we will sleep for the night before we head to our field station. Christina and I joke around for a bit in the car before I pass out. At the hotel, I get to my room and fall face first on my bed and will not wake up until 3 A.M. Hot, sweaty and smelly, I decide that I should take a shower. Expecting to be blasted by cold water, I am delighted to see a hot water faucet. I take a quick shower, brush my teeth and head back to bed.
Luke and I wake up within minutes of each other at 6 A.M. I take a few pictures of our hotel, pack my bag and head downstairs to meet the rest of the group for breakfast. We eat eggs, coffee, fresh watermelon and a delicious Watermelon, Tomato and Mango beverage (seriously, it’s unreal). Our driver and counselor for the trip, Moses, watches me take out my enormous pill bag and jokes that I could start my own pharmacy downtown. After finishing the meal, we board our Toyota’s and head west to our field station. Getting out of Arusha was downright tedious. Traffic weaves in and out of one another and people are constantly running through traffic. An ambulance had to make way and cut a small lane in the center of the road where 15 cars would follow in attempt to shorten their drive to wherever they were going. Eventually the traffic thinned and we began our journey. The air smells cleans, the landscapes are breathtaking. Flat plains surround us and in the distance mountains that seem to reach the heavens paint a picture too beautiful for words to describe. We pass coffee fields, eucalyptus trees and locals attending to their livestock (mostly goats and cattle). The houses begin to dwindle and soon everything that one would find in civilization vanishes. Houses become mud huts, pants, t-shirts and shoes become linen and sandals and so much more. We are about 20 minutes away from the camp when we finally see our first taste of true African Wildlife. In the bush, about 100 meters away from the road, a giraffe is grazing on shrubs and trees. There are 3 other cars and tourists taking photos. We jump out and take our first peak. Then, another giraffe pops out and then another. It takes everyone’s breath away. It hits us that we are really here and that this adventure will be stamped in our memories for the rest of our lives.
We get back into the car and begin to travel through the local towns. All seem very run down, but there is one thing that keeps these towns thriving, happiness. Everyone we see is smiling and enjoying their life. We are in one of the poorest countries of the world, but they are wealthy in happiness, and when people are happy, nothing else really matters. I hope to learn from them this important life lesson.
We finally arrive at the field station and are greeted by all the staff. We take a tour of the our new home, and spend the rest of the afternoon playing cards, getting to know one another and learning a bit of Swahili. At 4:30, we make our way to Moyo Hill, a 25 minute hike where we can see miles upon miles of Tanzania. It is a bit depressing when I first look. There are pockets of thick bush surrounded by an abundance of barren terrain. Years ago, these barren places would have been flourishing with trees. We are in Tanzania for that reason. We are here to learn how to find the balance between letting the people of Tanzania thrive as well as the ecosystems. We are here to bring harmony to a damaged ecosystem. We make our way back to the camp, eat dinner and hang out for the rest of the night. When the sun sets, we are surrounded by the stars. It is magical. The sky is illuminated with little white specs. More so than in rural Wisconsin, Israel, Palm Springs or any place I have ever been. Once again, my breath is taken away. Tired and exhausted, I go to sleep.
We wake up at 7 the next morning and go for a run. None of us are used to the elevation and within seconds we are all panting for air. Hopefully, by the time we are headed to Kenya, my lungs will not have a problem with the elevation. We get back, eat breakfast and hang out anxiously awaiting the arrival of the delayed group (the ones who got snowed-in in Newark). They arrive and we are finally all here. We introduce ourselves and have orientation. We head to the local village and see what there is to see. It is run down and everyone is looking at us. However, everyone is smiling and happy. I want to learn so badly what they know so well. We wander around for 20 minutes and make our way back to our new home where I am sitting now writing this journal entry.
February 4th, 2011
Friday, February 4, 20The events that unfolded in London were not exactly what I had in mind. Ben didn’t answer his phone, so I decided to go and tour by myself. Walking around Paddington, the weather is crummy. It is overcast and a strong wind chill. I make my way into a small pub with free wifi and have a cup of coffee and toast. A few old men walk in, purchase a bottle of wine and begin to talk about the various things old Englishmen talk about. I felt as if I was in a movie. The pub was dimly lit, the people had terrible teeth and they were drinking before noon. I left the pub, walking aimlessly around. The biggest difference that I noticed between any other big city and London was the driving (remember, I was only really in London for maybe 3 hours). There really aren’t lanes in London. Cars are parallel parked every which way and it all seems very unorganized, but then again, cars weren’t exactly part of the city engineers plans a few centuries ago. I make a left and start to walk towards a park, Hyde Park. The only thing I know about Hyde Park is that there have been some killer live concerts that I’ve had the opportunity to listen to. The park is full of pigeons and tourists taking pictures. Since I was one of them, I had very little hesitation to pull out my SLR and snap a few photos of the famous park. It’s now been 20 some hours since I last got sleep and the walking around has made me exhausted. I decide to head back to Paddington Station so I can try Ben one more time, and if not, head to Heathrow. Ben doesn’t answer. Exhausted, I say my farewells to the history intense city and make my way to the Underground. The Underground is by far, the nicest public transportation train system I have seen in any city. Better than NY, DC, Boston, SF, Paris, the Underground takes them all.
The events that unfolded in London were not exactly what I had in mind. Ben didn’t answer his phone (he got it stolen the night before), so I decided to go and tour by myself. Walking around Paddington, the weather is crummy. It is overcast and a strong wind chill. I make my way into a small pub with free wifi and have a cup of coffee and toast. A few old men walk in, purchase a bottle of wine and begin to talk about the various things old Englishmen talk about. I felt as if I was in a movie. The pub was dimly lit, the people had terrible teeth and they were drinking before noon. I left the pub, walking aimlessly around. The biggest difference that I noticed between any other big city and London was the driving (remember, I was only really in London for maybe 3 hours). There really aren’t lanes in London. Cars are parallel parked every which way and it all seems very unorganized, but then again, cars weren’t exactly part of the city engineers plans a few centuries ago. I make a left and start to walk towards a park, Hyde Park. The only thing I know about Hyde Park is that there have been some killer live concerts that I’ve had the opportunity to listen to. The park is full of pigeons and tourists taking pictures. Since I was one of them, I had very little hesitation to pull out my SLR and snap a few photos of the famous park. It’s now been 20 some hours since I last got sleep and the walking around has made me exhausted. I decide to head back to Paddington Station so I can try Ben one more time, and if not, head to Heathrow. Ben doesn’t answer. Exhausted, I say my farewells to the history intense city and make my way to the Underground. The Underground is by far, the nicest public transportation train system I have seen in any city. Better than NY, DC, Boston, SF, Paris, the Underground takes them all.
I sit down and eye the people around me. There is a man struggling with a crossword puzzle. I had been doing a few of them recently so I decided to look a bit deeper and see if I could find help him out. Surely, there are a few that I know. I let him know and we continue to work on the crossword puzzle. After a few stops, we are mentally exhausted and strike up a real conversation. It turns out the man I was sitting next to was on his way Edinburgh where he is a Professor at the University and teaches 19th and 20th Century English History. The conversation soon turns to his youth where he traveled, much like I’m doing now. He continued to tell me about his experiences in Africa and the distinct smell that the African continent has. He has traveled much of Europe and Africa, but has not spent much time in the U.S. I urge him to go and see the crazy place that I call home and that NYC is in retrospect a very small taste of America (the only US city he’s been to). We arrive at Heathrow and before he hands me his business card, he gives me the best advice any young adult could hear: “Travel as much as you can before you get married”. In the back of my head, the Harlem Gospel Choir is singing “Amen”.
Security is a breeze and I walk around the terminal for a bit. All of the sudden I pass someone who looks extremely familiar. I cautiously approach her and ask if she’s part of SFS (School for Field Studies). She says she is and introduces herself as Jess, the friend next to her is Liz. We talk for a bit and then my stomach takes the best of me and I’m off to find food. I decide the best thing to satisfy my love for America would be to eat at T.G.I. Friday’s. I eat at the bar and the bartender begins to tell me about the crazy festivals that happen all throughout the UK. What a place. The people I’ve met seem friendly and so far London has left nothing short of a sweet taste in my mouth. The hours pass and I spend my time getting to know Jess and Liz. We talk about our love for Disney movies, nature and our reasons for going to Africa. We also realize that we have mutual anxieties.
The time has come. It’s time to board the plane. We get to the gate and to our surprise six more students had made it across the Atlantic in time. Emily, Sarah, Christina, Julie, Luke and Erin. I’m excited, but feel like a walking zombie. I board the plane and pass out. I spent the rest of plane ride finishing my book and watching 127 Hours (amazing film, Franco is one of the most versatile actors in our generation). The movie is cut two minutes short due to landing, but that’s okay. The savanna of Kenya is now becoming a reality and everyone on board is excited crowding the windows to get a glimpse of Nairobi.
We are welcomed by the Wildlife Professor in Kenya (he will be teaching us during our Kenya portion of the trip) and are instantly enamored by his amiable, wholesome and loveable presence. He takes us to the currency exchange where we trade in our familiar dollars for Kenyan shillings. He then brings four of the nine of us to the baggage claim so we can help load the truck that will be driving the bags from our site to the Field Station in Arusha. While getting the bags, a girl with a Goucher shirt begins to look at us quizzically. Her name is Ali and she will also be on our SFS trip. She has been in Tanzania for the past month with her grandmother and was told to meet us at the airport. We load the bags, meet a few more people (names are a bit fuzzy) and head back to the terminal to wait for our flight to Tanzania. I ask our Professor if he’s ever heard of a man named David Western. I tell him I just read his book and was really moved by it. To my surprise, he knows him quite well and tells me that if I want to meet him that we can definitely arrange a way for it to happen. I’m flabbergasted. A month ago, he was just a book on my grandmother’s bookshelf, now I’m going to get the opportunity to meet him and inquire more about his work. But that’s not all; he adds that if I’m serious about doing more conservation work in Africa, David brings in researchers to study primates. This could be something I’m interested in, but the only thing I’ve really done so far in this field of study is read about it. First, I need to fall in love with the work I’m doing before any further steps can be taken.
The group decides to look around at all the extremely low priced duty free goods and traditional African objects. We are all so excited. After a while, we work up an appetite and get ready to indulge ourselves in our first meal. I choose the Cheddar, Avocado and Tomato sandwich, Emily and Sarah choose the same and within minutes our mouths are watering due to the smell of freshly prepared sandwiches. The rest of the group is playing cards, sleeping and reading. I pull out my laptop and decide to write this blog. And so it has begun.
I sit down and eye the people around me. There is a man struggling with a crossword puzzle. I had been doing a few of them recently so I decided to look a bit deeper and see if I could find help him out. Surely, there are a few that I know. I let him know and we continue to work on the crossword puzzle. After a few stops, we are mentally exhausted and strike up a real conversation. It turns out the man I was sitting next to was on his way Edinburgh where he is a Professor at the University and teaches 19th and 20th Century English History. The conversation soon turns to his youth where he traveled, much like I’m doing now. He continued to tell me about his experiences in Africa and the distinct smell that the African continent has. He has traveled much of Europe and Africa, but has not spent much time in the U.S. I urge him to go and see the crazy place that I call home and that NYC is in retrospect a very small taste of America (the only US city he’s been to). We arrive at Heathrow and before he hands me his business card, he gives me the best advice any young adult could hear: “Travel as much as you can before you get married”. In the back of my head, the Harlem Gospel Choir is singing “Amen”.
Security is a breeze and I walk around the terminal for a bit. All of the sudden I pass someone who looks extremely familiar. I cautiously approach her and ask if she’s part of SFS (School for Field Studies). She says she is and introduces herself as Jess, the friend next to her is Liz. We talk for a bit and then my stomach takes the best of me and I’m off to find food. I decide the best thing to satisfy my love for America would be to eat at T.G.I. Friday’s. I eat at the bar and the bartender begins to tell me about the crazy festivals that happen all throughout the UK. What a place. The people I’ve met seem friendly and so far London has left nothing short of a sweet taste in my mouth. The hours pass and I spend my time getting to know Jess and Liz. We talk about our love for Disney movies, nature and our reasons for going to Africa. We also realize that we have mutual anxieties.
The time has come. It’s time to board the plane. We get to the gate and to our surprise six more students had made it across the Atlantic in time. Emily, Sarah, Christina, Julie, Luke and Erin. I’m excited, but feel like a walking zombie. I board the plane and pass out. I spent the rest of plane ride finishing my book and watching 127 Hours (amazing film, Franco is one of the most versatile actors in our generation). The movie is cut two minutes short due to landing, but that’s okay. The savanna of Kenya is now becoming a reality and everyone on board is excited crowding the windows to get a glimpse of Nairobi.
We are welcomed by the Wildlife Professor in Kenya (he will be teaching us during our Kenya portion of the trip) and are instantly enamored by his amiable, wholesome and loveable presence. He takes us to the currency exchange where we trade in our familiar dollars for Kenyan shillings. He then brings four of the nine of us to the baggage claim so we can help load the truck that will be driving the bags from our site to the Field Station in Arusha. While getting the bags, a girl with a Goucher shirt begins to look at us quizzically. Her name is Ali and she will also be on our SFS trip. She has been in Tanzania for the past month with her grandmother and was told to meet us at the airport. We load the bags, meet a few more people (names are a bit fuzzy) and head back to the terminal to wait for our flight to Tanzania. I ask our Professor if he’s ever heard of a man named David Western. I tell him I just read his book and was really moved by it. To my surprise, he knows him quite well and tells me that if I want to meet him that we can definitely arrange a way for it to happen. I’m flabbergasted. A month ago, he was just a book on my grandmother’s bookshelf, now I’m going to get the opportunity to meet him and inquire more about his work. But that’s not all; he adds that if I’m serious about doing more conservation work in Africa, David brings in researchers to study primates. This could be something I’m interested in, but the only thing I’ve really done so far in this field of study is read about it. First, I need to fall in love with the work I’m doing before any further steps can be taken.
The group decides to look around at all the extremely low priced duty free goods and traditional African objects. We are all so excited. After a while, we work up an appetite and get ready to indulge ourselves in our first meal. I choose the Cheddar, Avocado and Tomato sandwich, Emily and Sarah choose the same and within minutes our mouths are watering due to the smell of freshly prepared sandwiches. The rest of the group is playing cards, sleeping and reading. I pull out my laptop and decide to write this blog. And so it has begun.
February 2nd, 2011
And so it begins. I get a call early in the morning from Amy Sullivan, an employee of SFS (not sure what she does exactly), who has informed me that the group flight to London from Nairobi has been cancelled due to weather. I check my info online and tell her that I am scheduled to leave on time. She them tells me something that the novice traveler would likely pee themselves at the thought of. Traveling to Tanzania alone. That’s right ladies and gentlemen. I will be traveling to a third world country without a single acquaintance. Scared? Nah, come one, the core of man’s spirit comes from new adventures; this is going to be an exciting one. I headed for the airport around 2pm on a typical overcast day in Washington, DC. Awake half because of adrenaline, half because of caffine, falling asleep was not in my sights in the near future. We arrive at the airport and check-in bags. Of course, the money hoarding airline companies try to trick me to paying for my luggage. Good thing I’ve done my homework. I tell the man that online, you can fly two bags for free to Africa. He calls his manager and he says I am correct. (Congratulations Elliot, you are officially better versed in oversea baggage charges than the man who works the counter (if my Dad is reading this I will let him know that my arm is in a cast for patting myself on the back)) Getting through security was nothing short of painful. I had to watch a security guard destroy my previous nights work (he tore through my entire carry-on, and I may add that it is not easy to fit everything into it). Annoyed, but relieved, I made my way to the terminal. My backpack evolved from normal hiking back to carrying a boulder on my back very quickly.
By 3:30, I am ready and waiting at my gate for a flight that is going to board in two hours. I picked up my phone and decided to start calling everyone I felt needed to hear my voice before I made my way across the Atlantic. I spoke with my self declared sister Sarah, my grandparents, parents and a good friend from home, Matt. To my delight, everyone is in good spirits and living their lives to their full potential. Before I know it, it’s time to board the plane, however there was barely anyone at the terminal. Yes my fellow friends, my flight to London was deserted. I had an entire row to myself where I could sleep…or so I thought. I am living on adrenaline. I did not sleep on the plane ride once. By the time my eyelids begin to give signs of exhaustion it was to late. We had crossed the Atlantic and were minutes away from Heathrow. Looks like I won’t be falling asleep until my flight to Nairobi.
I arrive in London. It is overcast (what a surprise) and the temperature in average. About 45 degrees F. Drowsiness is really starting to set in. The customs line seems endless, but eventually I make my way to the front and get through. My next challenge is getting myself from Heathrow to Paddington. I decided that it is more economical to take the Underground. After a long winding road to the entrance, I catch my train and am on my way to see London. I get my first glimpse of London from the ground and it looks pretty much the way I imagined. Old, red brick houses, soccer (or should I say football) fields, morning traffic and lot’s and lot’s and lot’s of British accents. I stick out like a soar thumb. I am wearing old blue jeans, running shoes and a black windbreaker. Everyone else essentially looks like they came out of a Brooks Brothers store. Finally, I make it to Paddington. Exhausted, but a bit relieved, I am excited to be here, and look forward for the day to come.
By 3:30, I am ready and waiting at my gate for a flight that is going to board in two hours. I picked up my phone and decided to start calling everyone I felt needed to hear my voice before I made my way across the Atlantic. I spoke with my self declared sister Sarah, my grandparents, parents and a good friend from home, Matt. To my delight, everyone is in good spirits and living their lives to their full potential. Before I know it, it’s time to board the plane, however there was barely anyone at the terminal. Yes my fellow friends, my flight to London was deserted. I had an entire row to myself where I could sleep…or so I thought. I am living on adrenaline. I did not sleep on the plane ride once. By the time my eyelids begin to give signs of exhaustion it was to late. We had crossed the Atlantic and were minutes away from Heathrow. Looks like I won’t be falling asleep until my flight to Nairobi.
I arrive in London. It is overcast (what a surprise) and the temperature in average. About 45 degrees F. Drowsiness is really starting to set in. The customs line seems endless, but eventually I make my way to the front and get through. My next challenge is getting myself from Heathrow to Paddington. I decided that it is more economical to take the Underground. After a long winding road to the entrance, I catch my train and am on my way to see London. I get my first glimpse of London from the ground and it looks pretty much the way I imagined. Old, red brick houses, soccer (or should I say football) fields, morning traffic and lot’s and lot’s and lot’s of British accents. I stick out like a soar thumb. I am wearing old blue jeans, running shoes and a black windbreaker. Everyone else essentially looks like they came out of a Brooks Brothers store. Finally, I make it to Paddington. Exhausted, but a bit relieved, I am excited to be here, and look forward for the day to come.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)