Feeling Nostalgic

Even though San Diego is still new and I am constantly being stimulated and energized by the thrills of living in this coastal city, my travel bug never fully lies dormant. Below is an article based on an old blog post from when I was volunteering in India. I've revamped it in the hopes of submitting it to a blog site or magazine. Thought I'd share it here.

Learning to Surrender

India and I have a very clearly divided love/hate relationship. During my three month volunteer stint in a small provincial town called Hunsur, located in the state of Karnataka in Southern India,  I encountered multiple incidents daily that challenged, shocked, provoked, and mesmerized me. I had my fair share of both the vexing and euphoric moments that impacted my life, highlighting the sharp contrast that defines India. I lived for the sights, smells, and sounds that I knew only India could provide, and was thrilled to be living in a place that launched me out of my comfort zone. But the more frustrating incidents I endured, combined with my somewhat neurotic love of efficiency and order, radically altered my feelings toward my temporary country of residence at the drop of a hat. It took me a while to understand why culture shock was slapping me in the face every day; I was fighting India, and I refused to believe that I couldn’t win.

Just because something is different than what I’m used to, doesn’t make it wrong. This  became my mantra, but I quickly realized it’s a lot easier to believe than actually practice. I found myself getting annoyed, angry, and disheartened at things both trivial and heartbreakingly serious. Everything from the hour long bus ride to my volunteer site on a mostly deteriorated dirt road, to the 3 rupee bathroom fee they only made foreigners pay, to insect infestations and animals perpetually roaming the streets, to the barely existing regulations and teacher involvement at the school for tribal children I volunteered with, to looking into the childrens’ eyes and knowing that in all likelihood they would never know life outside their small village, grated against my preconceived notions of how the world should work. Looking back, I realize how vain and self-important I am to think that I hknew what it took to make a perfect world.

While in India I read Gregory David Roberts’ Shantaram, a mostly autobiographical book about an Australian escaped inmate who comes to live in the slums of Bombay. Chapter by chapter this page turner opened my eyes to how futile it is to adhere to my western mentality while living here in India and expect to get through one day without screaming. India has existed for over 5,000 years and will most likely not change to suit my preferences. And it shouldn’t change, because that would also mean altering the characteristics that I find irresistible.

Getting frustrated with a particular practice, belief, or ritual is a waste of time, and time is scarce.   Shantaram indirectly offers advice on how to cope with the subtle nuances as well as the gaping disparities between India and my comfortable life at home.  The incentives for accepting this advice, as well as for accepting the beautiful mess that is India, are plentiful and supreme.

Needless to say, I was never able to achieve enlightenment and fully accept the variances and frustrations that plagued my every day life. I don’t think any amount of time spent in India would allow me to completely come to terms with the injustices I witnessed. But when it came down to it, it had been entirely my decision to volunteer and reside in a rural town with little amenities, and I had done it willingly. I also knew that in a mere three months time, I was free to return to my comfortable home with all its American luxuries. So what possible right had I to complain?

Traveling to a new place will always inherently contain a certain amount of adjustments. But it’s up to the traveler to decide how much time they want to spend fighting to fix a culture before they can embrace the serenity that comes with integrating yourself into a culture. I can guarantee that it will hurt, but the treasures that you gain will be so worth it.

“Try to relax completely, and go with the experience. Just... let yourself go. 

Sometimes, in India, you have to surrender before you win.”

Shantaram, Gregory David Roberts

New Home

I moved! To an even better location than before. I live in a house with three other people, have my own room, and am foot steps from the bay. I couldn't be more thrilled with this next chapter of my San Diego life.

my cute little green house

view from my driveway

my backyard patio

It's the Simple Things

Yesterday, I was biking home from work and came to a four way stop. The two other vehicles present at the intersection were also bicycles.

While at the salon today, I met another wanderer whose enthusiasm and zest for travel enlivened my soul.

On the way to my babysitting job today I passed a palm tree-like bush whose fronds stretched out into the middle of the sidewalk. I purposely rode my bike through it to feel the fronds brush up against my legs.

Today I went surfing for the first time since being in California, which encapsulates several simple things:
1. I was instructed by someone I met upon arriving in San Diego and who I now consider a friend.
2. The said friend lives 2 blocks from the ocean, and owns multiple surfboards, so after locking up my bike at his house I walked barefoot to the beach, surfboard in tow.
3. I was out on the ocean as the sun went down.
4. I got to hang up my wetsuit in my backyard, just like all the other California surfers.

Who could ever ask for anything more than the simple things?

More San Diegan Wanderings

The last month has been JAM-PACKED! I feel like I've hardly had time to sit and breath, but that's what makes my life so rewarding. Here's a quick peak at what I've been up to:

roadtrip to Dana Pointe to visit an old high school friend

hiking around Sunset Cliffs

hanging out with my brave mother who flew across the country to visit me

road tripped to Julian - the apple pie capital of America

bonding with my awesome international roommates

volunteering at Habitat for Humanity

celebrating St. Patty's Day and making new friends

traipsing around Balboa Park visiting the art shops and museums

zip lining at the Safari Park

sea cave kayaking

Off to Neverland

People always say how wonderful it is that I've traveled so much, and that I should do as much of it as I can while I'm still young. While I'm still young? I'm always a bit confused about this; it's as if I'll eventually get all this traversing around out of my system, as if when I "grow up" I have to stop living my life and doing what I love. I politely smile and say something about making the most of my responsibility-free time, but inside I am festering. This is not a stage I'm going through and I'm never going to feel that I've done enough and can now stop moving.

In honor of my pledge to retain my youthful, adventurous nature, I recently got a tattoo of the two stars from Peter Pan, written by J.M. Barrie. The directions to Neverland are "second star to the right and straight on til morning."

"If growing up means it would be beneath my dignity to climb a tree, 

I'll never grow up, never grow up, never grow up! Not me!"

Wanderings

Even though I have lived many places over the years, I feel this is the first destination in which I'm investing most of my time in getting to know the area. I'll be in San Diego long enough to make it worthwhile to spend time making new friends, joining sports teams, and acquainting myself with local areas and things to do. It's a totally different kind of living experience which, as you know, is what I live for. Getting around gets a little tricky without a car, but armed with my bus/trolley/train passes, a strong set of legs, and a steel determination, I have done and seen way more than most San Diegans.

I've gone whale watching, participated in numerous Taco Tuesdays, visited the local farmers market, learned how to make crepes with our Guatemalan friends, gazed at Jupiter and constellations in Balboa Park, cheered Natalie on during her half marathon, attended a local soccer game (Go Sockers!), tasted Carruth Cellars wine and boogied to a jazz band at the infamous Belly Up Tavern in Solana Beach, met an up and coming boy band (Reverse Order), made my way south to Mexico (Tijuana, Rosarito, Puerto Nuevo) to ride horses on the beach, explored museums in the Gaslamp District and Seaport Village, hosted several dinner parties for various couchsurfing friends, explored the San Diego zoo, checked out the Oceanside Surf Museum and longest pier on the West Coast, joined a soccer team (Go Bingo Bongo Changos!), traversed to the Botanical Gardens and Lux Art Museum in Encinitas, and just generally enjoyed life. I couldn't be more thrilled with all I've done, but there's still so much more.

Sleep Walking

Yesterday, during one of our many gypsy wanderings around San Diego County, Natalie and I stopped at the Lux Art Institute in Encinitas. It's not a gallery or museum, but a studio in which artists come and stay for a residency. The artists' previous works are displayed, but the coolest part is that the artist can be viewed creating a new piece of art and visitors can be witnesses to the combination of genius, inspiration, and hard work that is necessary for creation. Unfortunately the most recent artist, Spaniard Carlos Vega, had just left, but we did get to see his new completed project.

In this particular piece, Vega was inspired by a woman who had a near death experience. She claimed that only after death had stared her in the face, she realized how close to death she had always been. Only after this experience did she feel fully awake and aware of all the world had to offer. In the piece, Vega depicts several people, all sleeping contentedly, wrapped in blankets, safe and protected. This represents the woman before her deathly encounter, as well as the vast majority of earth's inhabitants. So many people benignly coast through life, going through the motions that society deems necessary, never once lifting their eyes high enough to see the horizon, let alone anything that might lie past it.

I honestly don't know how I got to the mindset I'm in, or how I prevented my eyes from glazing over into apathetic acceptance, but I know I didn't need a near death experience to realize how awake I am. The past few weeks have again reiterated exactly how strong my zest for life is, especially compared to those sleeping around me. In the words of a fellow adventurer, Everett Ruess, "I have known too much the depths of life already" and I could never settle for complacency.

This isn't the piece I was describing, but another one done by Vega entitled Don't Tell Me You Can't. It depicts a man being burdened by a donkey wearing a false set of antlers. The antlers are filled with pictures of iconic, successful people. The man is bent over, weighed down by his desire for success, but if he only had the courage to stand up, the donkey would fall off his back and he would be free to pursue his dreams.