fortune is good to the bold

My Favorite Holiday: St. Nicholas Day

2011-12-06T21:53:00.001-07:00

December 6, 2011: SE Washington

I love this holiday. love it. Ever since I was little, my whole family puts out our shoes on the night of Dec. 5 and then come morning they are filled with goodies. It is simple. It is nostalgic. It is perfect. Though nothing can really beat St. Nicholas Days from when I was a kid, St. Nicholas Day 2009 really tops the charts for most memorable. (NOTE: everywhere I have lived/will live I make the people around me celebrate. Freshman dorm floor, roommates, travel companions, etc.)

On December 5-6, 2009 I was traveling with my dear friends Kristin, Meghan, and Natalie, from the Andaman Islands off the coast of Thailand to Delhi, India. The night was FULL of adventure I'll tell you what. Actually, I will let NaTalie tell you. Here is an excerpt from an email Natalie sent to our friend Daniel which recounts the curious tales of that night:

Kristin, Meg, & Gnat snoozing in the piggy pen with St. Nick treats

"On the last night [of our trip to the islands], we hopped into 2 autos to the Port Blairairport, with the plan of spending the night there because we did not want tospend money on some Indian dive. What we found out upon arrival, was that theairport is actually closed all night and we would not be able to sleep inside.However, with some sweet-talking on Porkney’s part [Aside: that is me. long story, interesting nickname], we managed to arrange tosleep outside the airport doors, in a little fenced-in area – a piggy pen, ifyou will. The security guards were fascinated by the fact that we wanted tospend the night in the airport. They (all the guards) gathered around the fenceand watched us as we lounged in the pig pen. Jaykay (the most friendly ofthe guards and our new found bestie), said, “I feel sooo bad that you have tospend the night here.” And then sort of offered his house to stay in. He alsorequested that we deliver his personal greetings to Obama: “Dear Mr. Obama, Howare you? I hope you are having a good morning. From Jaykay, Port Blair, AndamanIslands.” He repeated the message one more time just to be sure we got it, andthen said, “then we will be friends.”

"Also did we mention that it was the eveof St. Nicholas Day? Courtney made us all put our shoes out, and once we wentto sleep, she filled them with delicious little treats and gifts. Porkneysuspected that putting candy in someone’s chaco in the middle of the nightwouldn’t easily translate into Indian social interaction. She guessed right,because as she was filling the shoes, the new guard came out and just pointedat the shoes and shrugged his shoulders. Courtney ran over to him explained ina whisper the delicious German holiday and that they had to be quiet so theother girls wouldn’t wake up. All he did was nod agreeably and walk back intothe airport. Moments later after she finished St. Nicholasing, the guard cameback out and at first all he said was, “Dogs.” And Courtney, confused, “What?”And then he said, motioning to the treats in the shoes, “The Dogs – they will come.”Please, there were no dogs in sight and she hardly thought that one fresh appleand a candy orange would put The Dogs in Port Blair in a frenzy. All dog alert,anyone?"

Best St. Nicholas Day.

they are THE best.

2011-11-08T21:33:00.002-07:00

the sibs. so glad we are related.

Also, I am trying out something aesthetically new here on the blog as I am sure you can tell. It may or may not stay. Also, I got a couch for my room and now I have no idea what to do. I am telling you right now the fung shui is off. And maybe the couch has turned into an extension of my closet. whoops.

Hail to the Creep

2011-10-31T22:34:00.001-06:00

My friends and fellow districtites made this little diddy in honor of all the zombies, ghosts, ghouls, and Halloween tricksters in the world. Mad props to Thelma, the filmmaking/editing genius, and Mie and Trent, the creeptastic starlets.)

Hail to the Creep from Thelma Young on Vimeo.

Boo. Happy Halloween.

This is the big Times

2011-10-16T16:55:00.000-06:00

Everyone get excited.

Tostan is featured in an article on the front cover of today's New York Times! The front cover!

You can check out the online version of the article as well as a beautiful photo album and video at the links below:

An inspiring and realistic article.
Fantastic still photos of Sara Harouna, Senegal.
Moving images about all of it.

Three cheers for this community-led movement for human rights in Africa!

This is something I care about.

2011-09-19T23:10:00.002-06:00

Everything is connected. Everyone is connected. Child marriage is relevant to all of us.

turns out I am really into lists...

2011-09-13T23:05:00.001-06:00

today. this weekend. life.

I stood in NYC and DC. (!)

I got offered a job I love. (!!)

I talked with people I care about. (!!!)

I am happy. (!!!!!!!!!)

The day of muchness.

2011-08-31T00:15:00.003-06:00

Today has been unreal.

Lately I have been feeling all over the place, like one moment life is certain and makes sense and then the next moment everything has changed. (zinger.) I have so much to learn and relearn and teach and feel and shape and more and more. Today my friend told me about "muchness," experiencing so much and often not having the opportunity to acknowledge it.

I am acknowledging it now. I must. Today has been so much. Today I...

...ran into a really meaningful friend on the metro while on my way to work.
...had a mega busy day at the DC retreat.
...had a friend share the muchness of her year with me. so much.
...talked to B.Rodda about possibly going to NYC for a day to see her (!!!)
...was overcome with excitement and had to sit at Dupont Circle for 20 minutes just to calm down.
...met up with T.Young who came bearing clothes. She bought herself pants and me a bombshell dress. so kind.
...went to a Thai place with trelm and got an appetizer and two entrees to split for only thirteen dollars.
...feasted on gelato, girl talk, and muchness talk.
...walked to Federal Triangle while talking to the rents.
...learned some very sad news.
...learned that my dad got an incredible job.
...felt joy and sadness simultaneously.
...cried on the metro.
...talked to my brother on the phone about the crazy connection experiences he is having in Provo.
...felt happy to hear he is happy.
..came home to my roommates and the Centerville boys.
...made chili chocolate cookies that mess with your emotions (God bless Danielle Hurd for that recipe).
...somehow ended up singing beautiful hymns with Lori and Rachel.

...let the muchness seep into my skin.

It is now 2:48 am. I work in the morning. Sleep is important, but acknowledging today is more important. The human experience is so rich. Today reaffirmed that.

"That is not it at all. That is not what I meant at all."

2011-08-22T21:15:00.008-06:00

"The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" by T. S. Eliot

I love this poem. I have a recording of Anthony Hopkins reciting it that I have listened to many, many times. Once on a flight from Indianapolis to DC I listened to only this poem on repeat. I just sat there captivated, listening as the poem churned into my ears like a constant wave break. Pushing and pulling.

Please listen to it. It is best if you double listen to it or maybe triple listen if you have the time.

Fam Bam Weekend Glam!

2011-08-02T19:48:00.012-06:00

first. a shout out to Kenz and Tara and Jules and Gnatalie (who read my blog).

second. this weekend was perfect.
My favorite brother (only brother) recently returned from a two year mission in Santiago, Chile for our church, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. In order to celebrate this lofty accomplishment and the fact that all members of the Petersen family currently have both feet on the continental US, all the siblings, the parentals, and one set of grandparents flew to Carmel for the weekend. It was a dream. A really funny, fun, and uplifting dream.

Trust falls were all the rage this weekend. Fam bam trust fall tram?

The best part about the whole weekend was just hanging out with the fam and really just doing nothing. It was so nice. One of the highlights was a series of conversations about dating/courting. It all started at Sunday dinner when my older sister and I felt it necessary to explain to my brother the unfortunate and confusing phenomena we tenderly call the "date-like experience." Let me enlighten you. A date-like experience is when you are out with a guy or girl and all signs say, "hey! this is a date," but...it is not a date...but it could be.

Exhibit A. Say you decide to casually meet up with a friend on campus to go see a film at international cinema. This friend could be someone who you are not necessary interested in, but could like. maybe. Once you meet up, said friend suggests you both grab something to eat first. You walk over to a little Mexican place to get burritos really quick. You both order. You start rummaging in your bag for your money and then bam! Said friend is paying for you. Why is he paying? This is when you first ask yourself: wait, am I on a date? Obviously, it is unclear. You sit down and eat your burritos. Alone. Together. You can't help but remember that one fireside chat or talk or whatever it was about dating that said a date is something that is paired off, planned, and paid for. You realize this interaction suddenly fits those requirements. Again you ask yourself, am I on a date? Did I miss something? Is this supposed to be a date? Internal confusion. You finish eating and head to the movie. Still just the two of you. The movie is great. You are having a good time. But really, is it a date? still unclear. The movie ends, you chat for a little while about the film, and then, when it is time to part ways, you have an embrace of some sort and go. As you are walking away, still in a state of confusion about what that interaction actually was, it suddenly becomes clear. It was not a date, it was a date-like experience. Relatively spontaneous, seemingly friendly, increasingly date-ish, and endlessly unclear.

After this quick dinner tutorial about modern-day dating, my adorable grandma leans over to my grandpa and says, "I was glad we courted when we did!"

Robert and Joy Petersen, the grandparentals

Later that night my grandma shared the story of how my grandpa and her met and courted. It was so cute and special to hear her tell this story. He was the student body president and a star basketball player and she was the student body secretary. She said they courted on buttermilk. She recounted a story from when they both were at Utah State. My grandpa was on the basketball team and one night my grandma (she was not dating my grandpa at the time) and another fellow went to the basketball game together. My grandpa was playing really well that night and my grandma was so excited that she just cheered and cheered wildly, not really taking into account that she was on a date with someone else. At one point she was so into cheering for my grandpa that she lost her balance and fell partially through the bleachers. That is love. She said, "For whatever reason, that fellow didn't ask me out again." On December 26, 2011, Grandma and Grandpa Petersen will have been married for 60 years. When my grandma told us this she said with a smile, "Nowadays, I would say that is quite an accomplishment." It is grandma.

Overall, this weekend was perfect because my family is just superb. I love them so much. Over and out.

dynamic not static electricity

2011-07-07T21:30:00.003-06:00

so much.

I feel like an endless amount of things have happened in the past two weeks and since I am not in the mood for a narrative, here is a list.

Delicious shakes with Ebet.
Smithsonian Folklife Festival madness.
Martha Reeves concert. (This was a Motown dream. I must say dancing wildly to "Dancing in the Street" sung by Martha herself was a treat. You can read an excellent post about this night written by my good friend Thelma here)
Watching the San people from Botswana perform their healing chant and antelope dance. (This was soooo cool because I didn't realize that the San people are the same as the Bushmen. Being an Anthropology TA in college and teaching all about the Bushmen made experiencing their culture in real life so much more rich. It. was. so. cool. ah. Thanks Syd for the heads up on this one!)
Freshly Ground concert with Thelma. so good.
Attempting to go see Steve Martin play in his bluegrass band in a torrential downpour.
Playing harmonica on my porch late at night while watching the fire trucks pull in and out of the station.
Mega awkward ward BBQ. An attempt at meeting new people. semi-successful, semi-uncomfortable.
Watching the Fourth of July fireworks from the Washington Monument with new friends.
Applying for something great and not getting it. Very discouraging, yet such is life. You can do what you want always, but you can't get what you want always. This is a lesson I have to learn over and over again.
Starting a French class. Oui! Oui!
Starting a Spanish class. Es verdad.
Feeling great, then bad, then alright, then good, and now content. (mostly.)

And now to introduce the new love of my life: Gypsy, the succulent one.

Come on all you ghosts.

2011-06-22T21:13:00.005-06:00

Setting: Colombia Heights metro platform. I am standing apart from the crowd with my newly purchased full length mirror at my side. I am eating M&Ms. After a minute or so, a roughly 26 year old man approaches and takes his stance squarely in front of me. He is not intoxicated in any way.

Guy: Kim!
Me: (realizing he thinks I am someone else. I say matter-of-factly...) Courtney.
G: (still hopeful) Kim.
M: uh no. I'm Courtney. (I eat an M&M.)
G: (obviously perplexed) no Kim. Kim! (hands outstretched as if to say, "I am not sure why you are playing this game Kim. I know it's you.)
M: I am sorry, but I am not Kim. I am Courtney.
G: (confused eye brow raise) As in you go by Courtney?
M: Yes. My name is Courtney.
G: (utterly confused, borderline distressed) You lived in Paris last winter.
M: The only time I have been in Paris was on a family vacation when I was six.
(Silence.)
G: (now totally distressed) Kim? Kim!?!
M: I am sorry that's not me. (I shrug my shoulders. He doesn't leave.)
(Silence. We stare at each other. He seems beyond confused by the fact that I am not Kim and that I did not live in Paris. Silence.)
G: Kim. But...you are a ghost. (confusion, he is almost reaching out to me.) You look just like her, like you are made of wax...Kim...

Guy's friend: (walks over and pulls on Guy's arm) Come on man, leave her alone.
(They walk away together.)

This whole experience was SO bizarre. It makes me feel uncomfortable to think that there is someone who looks just like me. So much so that it nearly pushes a normal man into a near confusion coma. It is strangely satisfying though to be a ghost.

Here is an excellent poem called The Prelude by Matthew Zaprunder from his book, Come On All You Ghosts.

One last thing, after Guy and his friend walked away, Guy's friend came back and asked if I wanted to get something to eat with him. Of coarse I said no. I don't think ghosts can eat.

so much.

2011-06-21T21:27:00.006-06:00

It is an incredible blessing to be inspired by those around you. continually.

"I came to a clear conclusion, and it is a universal one: To live, to struggle, to be in love with life—in love with all life holds, joyful or sorrowful—is fulfillment. The fullness of life is open to all of us."
-Betty Smith

where are you georgia? arial narrow? helvetica?

2011-06-17T21:38:00.004-06:00

It is bothersome to me that Blogger cannot publish my posts in the font that I tell it. It just arbitrarily picks one font and then changes it half way through a story and then changes it again a third time. I am assuming it does this because Blogger knows that all good stories have something to do with the number three. (Three Little Pigs, Three Blind Mice, Three Tricksy Fonts) Regardless, I wish it was all one font. Consistency is important to me. One font for one post, one font for all posts. Is that really too much to ask?

dusk

2011-06-10T21:56:00.010-06:00

Today I ran to the Capital after work. The heat and humidity did something to the landscape; it softened the lines between building and sky, grass and monument. The colored haze was beautiful. At dusk I started to run back to my house and with each stride the air thickened with floating lanterns, with fireflies. These flying lights collected in the gardens, in the leaves of overgrown trees, and all around me. At one point I saw a brief flicker of light directly in front of me. The insect retracted its lightning and in the darkness I knew we were going to collide. At the exact moment the firefly and I bumped into one another, it let out a golden glow as if to say, "I know. I am here." It was a simple experience, but for some reason it meant more.

Excuse me?

2011-06-04T23:08:00.007-06:00

I must seem approachable to others because people come and talk to me all the time. Exhibit A, B and C of this week:

Marvin

Setting: The upstairs balcony of Whole Foods that looks over the produce section.

We had the same idea.

What?

We had the same idea to sit up here and eat cherries. (points to his bag of cherries)

I guess so ya. Mine are actually chocolate covered malt balls so not quite as healthy as your choice but you know what can you do.

We then talked for nearly 40 minutes about blueberries, my job, internet law, cyber warfare, how he gave a TEDx lecture, Mormons in his life, happy hour, and food ways.

Shahir

Setting: The National Sculpture Garden on the Mall. I was sitting with my feet in the fountain reading a book.

That must be a good book.

Excuse me?

That must be a good book you are reading.

Oh yes. It is called Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close.

What is it about?

We then talked for 10 minutes about the book I am reading, how he is a Persian Canadian, his vacation, how nice people are in DC, and how he saw me from across the fountain reading my book and thought I was so beautiful and just had to come talk to me (yikes/kind of flattering).

Rosa

Setting: A block away from my house en route to Safeway.

How are you?

I am good. How are you?

I’m just fine.

Your dog is pretty.

Thanks. His name is Quick.

Do you know how to get to Safeway from here?

Yes. It is just a couple of blocks away. I am heading that direction myself.

Do you mind if I walk with you?

I don’t mind at all.

We then walked the next couple blocks to Safeway and talked about how Quick tore down three sets of Venetian blinds and cried and cried when Rosa's husband died because he was so depressed, how she can swim 500 meters in a little over 14 minutes (she is over 70), and that I should come over to her house sometime. (I think I will. She was fantastic.)

The things is I kind of love it when people come and talk to me because almost 90% of the time they have something interesting to say and I love to listen.

2011-06-03T22:53:00.002-06:00

Every time I go to the metro there is the same person sitting on the fence nearby.
Someone pulled the fire alarm at the movie theater I was just at.
I for some reason felt compelled to rest my head on the shoulder of the person sitting next to me on the metro even though he smelled like beer. (I didn't actually do it.)
My friend is moving to Chicago (dream) and starting a job at the Poetry Foundation (dream)
I fell in love with Brooklyn.
I fell out of love with idea of something that was make-believe
Sleep is hitting me like a brick wall.

---

An exercise in being vulnerable
An exercise in letting go.

Which one should I pick?

IAOSTSTGWO.

2011-05-23T21:52:00.003-06:00

At times I want to post things that are emotionally revealing, that remind me how to be vulnerable, but then I stop myself. This is a public blog.

Instead I will present to you, dear reader, a coded message full of my current secrets/questions I want to say and ask (kind of), but don't.

SIGTK?
IARFM?
IWIDCAMP
IWPLMATWLITSP
STMMPATH
IDCRFM?
IWIWSOL
IWIWAH
DYFFMPTWIFFY
IKMOWADDAWNH

Maybe if you ask me about these in person I will practice being vulnerable and tell you about them. maybe.

4 8 15 16 23 42

2011-05-09T21:51:00.005-06:00

I made a list today of all the classes I want to take when I go back to school (someday). One of them was stats. Really? Stats? ...really?

My dear friend Kenzie loves to recall a memory she has of me calling her from an abandoned stairwell in the Talmage building, crying because though it was finals week and I had attended every one of my Anthropology Stats classes that semester I still did not know a SINGLE thing about statistics and was going to FAIL the course. (I somehow managed to get a B- in the end. victory!) Regardless, it was a pathetic moment. I need to really learn this stuff, this number stuff. This fact is confirmed to me every time someone mentions words like "Analytics" and "The Data" (said in an academic voice, you know the kind.). To me data is lengthy interviews and participant observations all nicely coded and readable, not numbers. I need to have a love affair with numbers, with stats...

...

Whoa.

That last sentence was scary.

Reality check: turns out this "STATS 4 LIFE!" kick was a fleeting thought. This blog post is not even complete and I am already over the potential "relationship with numbers" idea I was just raving about.

I think I will go read an ethnography now.

moment deux

2011-05-03T20:26:00.005-06:00

While I was in Utah a couple weeks ago my friend Kayte Wilderness Brown requested that I tell her this story in person. She read about it already on my blog, but needed it firsthand. I rose to the occasion and out the story (and dance moves) fell. Somehow while lost in the telling of the story I neglected to notice that I was being filmed. gotcha.

For your viewing pleasure.

good.

2011-04-26T20:51:00.004-06:00

Following a series of unlucky events and then one very lucky event, I acquired the greatest steal of a room in the District. yep. victory.

Also, I walked in my college graduation last week in Provo (It was just for show. I actually graduated in December 2010). It was an extended weekend of greatness and closure. More on that later.

------

Also also, here is the story of my love life.

Why are all of you so short?

moment

2011-04-14T21:28:00.008-06:00

Surrounded by strangers, I learned to be completely myself.

This past Sunday I decided to attend a church fireside at 7 pm down at Foggy Bottom. The title of the event was "Science, Music, and Religion", which sounded quite promising. In order to get anywhere on time via the metro I must leave my house one hour early so at 6 I grabbed my purse and headed out the door. The warm sun and spring breeze hit my body and subconsciously I knew I was never going to make it to the fireside.

Still moderately attached to the idea of "Science...", I decided to walk to Foggy Bottom instead of taking the metro. I knew I could never make it there in time, but frankly that was just a detail that did not matter to me. I headed southwest through the District without noise-making technology (phone, ipod, etc.) as a companion, relying only on the sights, smells, and sounds of the city to entertain me as I walked a new landscape. This is how I prefer to take walks. At a confusing intersection of at least five different roads I found, pleasantly nestled between apartments and side streets, Meridian Hill Park.

By this time I had happily comes to terms with the fact that I was not going to Foggy Bottom. I entered the park and became lost in the happiness of newly found treasure. This park was beautiful. There was stream of running water cascading down a brick slope into a pool that glistened, clean amid the grime of the surrounding cityscape. As I walked further into the park I saw friends gathered for a picnic, lovers lazily reading books together, and dogs, lots of dogs.

What caught my attention the most though was the faint beat of a drum, no many drums. It was coming from the depths of the park. I had to find it. It was like someone had buried Jumanji, the drums beckoning me to play. I started walking faster towards the rhythmic sound. It was coming from just above a steep set of stairs. As I reached the bottom step I realized my heart was racing. the drums. the drums. the drums. I practically ran up the stairs. Once at the top I stood face to face with the sound. A smile crept along my face.

I had stumbled upon a massive drum circle accompanied by a moderate crowd of swaying listeners and dancers, old card playing men smoking rough cigarettes, and a good handful of practicing circus performers. It was as if I had stepped into one of my daydreams, but this time the gypsy drummers, the smokers, and the stilt-walkers were living and breathing the charm I had imagined for them.

I sat down, momentarily unable to take in my surroundings. What was going on here? I leaned over to the old man sitting next to me and asked, "Who are these people?" After a long drag on his cigarette he said, nodding to the drummers, "They have been coming every Sunday for 40 years. Anyone can join." This is a drumming tradition? What magic! "And those people," he pointed to the jugglers and acrobats, "they come sometimes too."

I listened to the drum circle both grateful for the music and jealous that I did not have a drum to play too. Soon a middle aged man began dancing. There were other dancers, but he was different. He danced these wild routines, jerking his legs and arms in a way you would not have expected considering his age. People began following his steps behind him.

I watched, wanting so badly to join the dance. I was alone though. I didn't have a friend to encourage me or laugh at me when I failed at the crazy dance moves. No wing man to give me support. I hesitated for about 30 minutes. Finally, I couldn't hold back any longer. Throwing my purse to the side, I walked straight to the front of this make shift chorus line and danced. I didn't hold back. For a moment I was that person. The one that doesn't care what people think, that simply is what she is even if that means being a too tall, bizarrely happy girl in a polka dot dress trying earnestly to learn the West Africa booty shake amid total strangers in a place she's never been before.

That was me.

I stayed at the park and danced until the pounding of the drums began to fade with the setting sun. I felt a freedom that night that to be honest I don't think I have ever felt before. If I could capture that feeling and relive it I would. A million times over I would. That is my one goal. To throw inhibition to the wayside. To be that girl. To be me.

Praise Be To Springtime!

2011-04-13T22:17:00.011-06:00

The seasons go round they

go round and around
said the tulip
dancing among her friends
in their brown bed in the sun
in the April breeze
under a maple canopy
that was also dancing
only with greater motions
casting greater shadows
and the grass
hardly stirring

-excerpt from "April" by Alicia Ostriker

IT IS HERE.

FACT:

2011-04-05T18:01:00.012-06:00

There are very few things I love more than trail mix.

(ps. that's me modeling that mix.)

gotcha!

For times when I miss India and Utah simultaneously.

2011-03-31T17:55:00.004-06:00

Festival of Colors in Spanish Fork, Utah

*This vid was directed by my friend Evan Carpenter (film person extraordinaire). He also hosts his own travel show called Evan Meets World. Check it out.

I am in love

2011-03-27T14:55:00.013-06:00

...with John Steinbeck.

Did I ever tell you that he and I are kindred spirits?

Exhibit A.

"When I was very young and the urge to be someplace was on me, I was assured by mature people that maturity would cure this itch. When years described me as mature, the remedy prescribed was middle age. In middle age, I was assured that greater age would calm my fever and now that I am fifty-eight perhaps senility will do the job. Nothing has worked. Four hoarse blasts of a ship's whistle still raise the hair on my neck and set my feet to tapping. The sound of a jet, an engine warming up, even the clopping of shod hooves on pavement brings on the ancient shudder, the dry mouth and vacant eye, the hot palms and the churn of stomach high up under the rib cage. In other words, I don't improve; in further words, once a bum always a bum. I fear the disease is incurable. I set this matter down not to instruct others but to inform myself.

When the virus of restlessness begins to take possession of a wayward man, and the road away from Here seems broad and straight and sweet, the victim must first find in himself a good and sufficient reason for going. This to the pratical bum is not difficult. He has a built-in garden of reasons to choose from. Next he must plan his trip in time and space, choose a direction and a destination. And last he must implement the journey. How to go, what to take, how long to stay. This part of the process is invariable and immortal. I set it down only so that newcomers to bumdom, like teen-agers in new-hatched sin, will not think they invented it.

Once a journey is designed, equipped, and put in process, a new factor enters and takes over. A trip, a safari, an exploration, is an entity, different from all other journeys. It has personality, temperament, individuality, uniqueness. A journey is a person in itself; no two are alike. And all plans, safeguards, policing, and coercion are fruitless. We find after years of struggle that we do not take a trip; a trip takes us. Tour masters, schedules, reservations, brass-bound and inevitable, dash themselves to wreckage on the personality of the trip. Only when this is recognized can the blown-in-the-glass bum relax and go along with it. Only then do the frustrations fall away. In this a journey is like marriage. The certain way to be wrong is to think you control it. I feel better now, having said this, although only those who have experienced it will understand it."

from Travels with Charley: In Search of America

He gets it. I get it. And that is why we would work out.

If only he were still alive.

FACT: John Steinbeck is my favorite author because his writing style is beautiful and his ability to tell a story is captivating. I plan to read all his work. This is a slow moving, life long goal, but totally do-able. So far I have read East for Eden (one of my three favorite books), Of Mice and Men, Travels with Charley, and half of The Pearl. Next in line: the second half of The Pearl, Grapes of Wrath, and Tortilla Flat.

plants and other things I like

2011-03-13T16:50:00.018-06:00

I just got back from my first bike ride of 2k11. It is funny how you can walk down the same street everyday and not realize it is a one way street and then ride down that same street on a bike and suddenly it is so clear. Turns out trying to turn left onto New Hampshire St. NW (illegal) from a one way street going the wrong direction (also illegal) is a bad idea. Whoops. But don't worry peeps, I was wearing a helmet.

Other news: The United States Botanic Garden changed my life. This garden, which was the love child of George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, and James Madison, was first established on the National Mall in 1820. Despite a brief garden hiatus from roughly 1837 to 1850 and then again from 1997 to 2001, the National Botanic Garden has been up and running for about 170-something years. Not bad America.

So the reason why this place is life changing is because it gives the common city dweller living in the ever-gray world of DC winter a brief, yet fantastic glimpse into a hot, humid jungle landscape. I am telling you this is the PERFECT escape. Goodbye DC, hello imaginary Costa Rica. I went to the Botanic Garden for the first time yesterday with Scifi. As we entered the jungle room the warmth and mist enveloped us. We began stripping off our clothes (scarves, jackets, and cardigans. nothing else came off. I mean really guys this is a family garden what were you expecting) and sat on a bench for a time, simply taking in the nature around us. It was magic.

I know for a fact I will be returning to this establishment many times in the near future just to sit and be with plants.

One other thing worth mentioning: I went to Mt. Vernon on George Washington's birthday. There was a Revolutionary War reenactment. Fact: I love reenactments.

(ps. I am not quite sure what happens at the
end of this. I think I was trying to search for GW.)

Hey Georgie.

no pants wednesday

2011-03-02T19:10:00.009-07:00

Today marked the first day in 2011 where it was warm enough to wear a skirt without tights. oh my heavens it was glorious. Fact: I prefer to wear skirts and dresses. They simply are more comfortable. I mean it is basically like wearing nothing on your bottom half. Can I hear you say freedom?!! Spring is on the rise and everyone knows it.

That being said, I knew today was going to be great. The best part (besides bare legs) was when I realized that the curious restaurant at the corner of Georgia Ave and Rock Creek aka where I live was open. They have been renovating it for ages and every time I walk past it I think, "I want that place to be open and I want it to be perfect." Turns out it is perfect. It is a Jamaican restaurant called Sweet Mango Cafe. As I learned today, there was a fire in the building in December so they had to close and fix it up. Now it is ready again and I am so glad. It was everything that I wanted it to be.
-big space with lots of seating where you are allowed to stay for hours (It is two stories and the top room is basically all windows. It faces west (my favorite) so you can watch the sun set over all the row houses.)
-super friendly/quirky/happy owners
-mediocre food that is cheap and exactly what you want
-purposefully slow service so that you can just chat and enjoy the company of others
-weird reggae/jazz/blues music playing loudly in the background
-vinyl tablecloths (brown) and folding chairs
-community hangout spot
OH it was so perfect. One issue I have with DC is that it seems like everyone is always going. going to work. going home. going to get coffee. going to a destination and then not staying there. I have been in search of a place that is okay with just sitting and being. No rushes, just a community to be momentarily a part of. I am so glad Sweet Mango Cafe opened today. I will probably go there again tomorrow, get a cheap, overly sweet pineapple soda and watch the sunset over my neighborhood.

sugar

2011-02-23T21:56:00.004-07:00

So I am not one to take pictures of myself with delicious food and then rave about it in social media venues, BUT I must indulge just this once. I went to New York a couple of weeks ago to see the city and meet up with some good friends. Long story short, it was a blast. Here was the culinary highlight: a custom made donut ice cream sandwich. What splendor! Two of my favorite sweet treats combined together into one dessert of the gods! Maybe said dessert will send me to an early grave, but I don’t care. No regrets! Long Live Confectionery!

(forgive the blurriness of this image. all the sugar was giving me the shakes.)

Best Day and a Half

2011-02-18T21:28:00.006-07:00

--Walked home from work in unseasonably warm weather. It took an hour and was so worth it.
--Ate frozen grapes.
--Went to the Darwin Deez show. oh so good. so fun. so good.
--Got up 20 minutes late and still made it to work on time.
--Went to the potluck Tostan hosted for all the people in the Friend's Community Campus aka
Tostan, the Quakers, and Promundo.
Note: The potluck was divine. Delicious and beautiful fresh vegetables and fruits. It was
like eating a garden. We moved a table out to the patio on the second floor that looks out to
the garden courtyard on one side and a historic Dupont side street on the other. The
company was superb as well. It feels so good to be a part of a community of like-minded
people.
--Walked to The Mall in 70 degree weather after work and watched the sunset over the
Washington Monument.
--Talked to Stacy on the phone in a deserted corner of Barnes and Noble. (I chose that spot so
my loud phone-talking voice wouldn't bother people who were reading. Turns out that corner
was the dirty romance novel corner. Sorry B&N, not tempted.)
--Got pizza with an old friend and a new friend down by the Capital.
--Ate cookies and blew up an egg in the microwave with roommates, Lindsey and Mike.
--Made mischief.

And now I am lying in bed, writing this and thinking about how it is a three day weekend. God Bless American Presidents and turned off alarm clocks.

This is the almond grove

2011-02-14T20:23:00.003-07:00

Last night I felt very frustrated by some information that I pieced together. I was upset even though I should not have been and, I will be honest, I cried because of it. I was filled with those "I don't understand" thoughts. Then today I remembered a poem my friend Meghan recommended to me: "Slow Dance" by Matthew Dickman. During a spare minute at work I read it. I read it and I felt.

---

More than putting another man on the moon,
more than a New Year’s resolution of yogurt and yoga,
we need the opportunity to dance
with really exquisite strangers. A slow dance
between the couch and dinning room table, at the end
of the party, while the person we love has gone
to bring the car around
because it’s begun to rain and would break their heart
if any part of us got wet. A slow dance
to bring the evening home, to knock it out of the park. Two people
rocking back and forth like a buoy. Nothing extravagant.
A little music. An empty bottle of whiskey.
It’s a little like cheating. Your head resting
on his shoulder, your breath moving up his neck.
Your hands along her spine. Her hips
unfolding like a cotton napkin
and you begin to think about how all the stars in the sky
are dead. The my body
is talking to your body slow dance. The Unchained Melody,
Stairway to Heaven, power-cord slow dance. All my life
I’ve made mistakes. Small
and cruel. I made my plans.
I never arrived. I ate my food. I drank my wine.
The slow dance doesn’t care. It’s all kindness like children
before they turn four. Like being held in the arms
of my brother. The slow dance of siblings.
Two men in the middle of the room. When I dance with him,
one of my great loves, he is absolutely human,
and when he turns to dip me
or I step on his foot because we are both leading,
I know that one of us will die first and the other will suffer.
The slow dance of what’s to come
and the slow dance of insomnia
pouring across the floor like bath water.
When the woman I’m sleeping with
stands naked in the bathroom,
brushing her teeth, the slow dance of ritual is being spit
into the sink. There is no one to save us
because there is no need to be saved.
I’ve hurt you. I’ve loved you. I’ve mowed
the front yard. When the stranger wearing a shear white dress
covered in a million beads
comes toward me like an over-sexed chandelier suddenly come to life,
I take her hand in mine. I spin her out
and bring her in. This is the almond grove
in the dark slow dance.
It is what we should be doing right now. Scrapping
for joy. The haiku and honey. The orange and orangutang slow dance.

---

Those pointless, upset thoughts that consumed me the night before meant nothing. I felt filled with gratitude that even though I don't necessarily have someone to "romantically" slow dance with I do have people that fill my life with a sweet music that lulls me into a lasting slow dance even after they leave. I have my beautiful sisters, brother and parents that would do anything for me. I have my best girlfriends from freshman year whose laughter and tears carried me through my time in Provo and carry me now as I begin my life in the real world. I have everyone associated with the Hot Chocolate House that inspire me to be better, smarter, and genuinely myself. I have my best friends from high school who constantly teach me that even after years of being apart our friendship is still the same. I have B. Rodda whose unwavering faith helps me understand true love. I have my friends from SID who unknowingly turned a horrible year into a perfect year. I have all the people I haven't met yet who will be essential teachers in my life. I realized that I have been and will be endlessly slow dancing with those that I love. Endlessly happy with those that I love.

Happy Valentine's Day.

book talking

2011-02-09T19:46:00.008-07:00

Observation: Commuters on the metro do not like to talk to one another. Only when you are clearly traveling with other people is it okay to talk to them, but only them and no one else.

Recognizing this fact, I find it very strange that in one week three people have started conversations with me while on my commute home. I credit these non-DC-like behaviors to one book: A Walk in the Woods by Bill Bryson.
Every time someone talks to me it is when my nose is fully in this book. No eye contact + reading a book usually translates as, "though you seem like a nice guy I don't really want to chat." Apparently, Bill's rendition of hiking the Appalachian Trail has the opposite effect.

Encounter # 1: The Midwesterner
I am leaning against a pillar on the Green line platform reading A Walk in the Woods. There is a 30 something year old guy directly ahead of me.
Guy: Looks like a good book.
(I look up. Is he talking to me? I look down.)
Guy: Is that a good book?
Me: (um I think he is talking to me.) Ya it is.
He walks over to me.
Guy: Cool. So what is it about?
Me: oh it is about this guy who hikes the Appalachian Trail.
Guy: haha did he really hike the trail?
Me: um ya I am pretty sure he did. I just started it so I am not sure if he gets all the way through, but I bet he does.
Guy: ha...oh I was referring to that joke. You know the joke about hiking the Appalachian Trail.
Me: um I don't think I am aware of that joke.
Guy: oh haha so this happened a couple of years ago but there was this politician from South Carolina that was having an affair with this woman from South America and when he would go out with her he would tell everyone he was going to go hike the Appalachian Trail.
Me: He was hiking a whole different kind of trail. This guy (pointing to the book) hiked the real thing.
Guy: So where are you from?
Me: Indiana
Guy: Oh I knew you would be from the Midwest. I am from Iowa. Midwesterners are so...

and then he made a face that looked a little like this
um. What could that facial expression mean and how could it be related to Midwesterners? These are things I just don't know. The train came, he shook my hand, and I never saw him again.

Encounter #2: The Two Californians
I am sitting in between two guys in there late twenties reading A Walk in the Woods. I am wearing a purple jewel-toned coat.
Guy 1: This train is full of people in black coats and this girl is wearing a purple coat. A purple coat!
Me: (Is he talking about me? Is he talking to me? I keep reading.)
Guy 1: I mean look around everyone is only wearing black yet she is here in a purple coat.
Me: (I look around. I am the only person wearing purple. He is talking about me.)
Guy 2: ya and she is reading a book about wolves too.
Me: (I turn to Guy 2) It is actually about bears. (I show him the cover.)

I guess the coat and wolf comment was supposed to be an icebreaker. We then all addressed the color of my coat for the trillionth time. I learned that Guy 1 and Guy 2 are roommates and moved here from California 3 weeks ago. I also learned that Guy 2 just learned how to "melt" his spaghetti (???) and that he thinks the homeless man who drums buckets all day in Chinatown is very talented. He asked if I was in the fashion industry. I said no. My stop came, we all shook hands, I wished them luck, and then we never saw each other again.

All of this happened because of a simple Walk in the Woods. Social barriers broken down and very strange social encounters built up. And so is my life in The District.

interesting/validating moment

2011-02-03T17:16:00.005-07:00

Everyday at work I get Google Alerts notifying me anytime Tostan and FGC is mentioned in online media. Yesterday something quite neat happened regarding these alerts. The first alert I opened in my inbox turned out to be an excellent article written by Valerie Hudson, one of my professors at BYU. What a pleasant surprise. I was so excited I called over my coworker, Modou, to my desk, showed him the article, and told him how it was written by a professor of mine out in Utah. He thought it was surprising and neat as well. The next surprise came immediately after. I opened the next alert and low and behold there was MY blog. ahh. what!?! Hudson's article and my blog all in one fell swoop. Google you alerted me in an interesting, validating sort of way.

Day 2 of many.

2011-02-01T18:47:00.013-07:00

Yesterday I started my internship with Tostan and before I say anything else I must tell you that I am really excited about it. Tostan means "breakthrough" in Wolof, a language spoken widely in Senegal. This is a perfect word to describe the work Tostan does. Their mission "is to empower African communities to bring about sustainable development and positive social transformation based on respect for human rights." Through their Community Empowerment Program (CEP) they simply share knowledge about health, human rights, democracy, and individual and collective responsibility. "Tostan’s approach," according to their website, "centers on the recognition that the most immediate, effective, and sustainable social change and development occurs from the ground up and is built from the pre-existing strengths, assets, and goals of communities themselves."

As the community's knowledge grows they are able to breakthrough to new understandings. Specifically, they can make decisions to stop harmful culture practices and redefine their own community and customs in order to promote respect for human rights. After participating in Tostan's CEP, 5,092 communities throughout five countries in West Africa publicly declared to abandon the practice of female genital cutting (FGC) and child/forced marriage. This is a big deal, an amazing big deal.
According to Half the Sky by Nicholas Kristof and Sheryl WuDunn,the Senegalese government in 2008 conducted a review of the country's efforts to end FGC and found that Tostan's approach was the only one receiving significant positive results. As Tostan grows and others adopt their methodology based on respect, the prevalence of FGC in West Africa diminishes.

This is meaningful work to me and I am so glad to be interning with them. If you have time to read more about them please do. They have thought of everything and have evaluated everything they do every step of the way. (Fact: I like and appreciate evaluations) My position at Tostan is the DC office Communications Assistant. I research, write and post all things regarding Tostan. I cover social media sites, press releases, etc. and correspond with the Communications Team at the Tostan headquarters in Dakar, Senegal. I have only been there two days and am already super busy. I am learning a lot and so far I am never bored. The people I work with are really cool, nice, and quite impressive. The staff at the office come from all over the place (San Diego, Germany, New Hampshire, Mauritania, Texas, Indiana (that's me!), and Sweden) and each bring something important and new to the table.
The Tostan office is in an old, beautiful Quaker Meeting House. The Quakers meet there on Sundays and then rent the rest of the space to different organizations during the work week. We share it with other DC based development organizations. For example, Promundo and Peace Tax Fund. We are going to start community potlucks where we all meet together in the Quaker living room and eat lunch and chat. I am excited for those to start. I finally feel like I have a community out here to identify with. It is a good feeling and I am happy. Day three starts tomorrow. Wish me luck and I will wish you luck.

PS: So maybe I am not a morning person. A perfect manifestation of this "hate of the morning" occurred at 7 am on my first day of work when I literally passed out in my teensy tiny bathroom. In a matter of seconds I simultaneously ripped out the toilet paper holder from the wall, detached the lid from the toilet, and smashed my face on the bathroom sink resulting in a split lip. Turns out my body quite dramatically rejects the morning. Oh and don't worry I am fine. The only side effects of "the morning mishap" are spontaneous fits of laughter when I remember how dumb the whole thing was.

Be Bold.

2011-01-26T22:00:00.007-07:00

My good friend Alicia Harris posted this video. Watch, then I have comments.

The title of my blog is fortune is good to the bold. There is a bracelet on my right hand that I never take off. Its purpose is to remind me to be bold. It is a constant mantra of mine because if I do not try to be bold I tend to be more on the shy side. I value and respect honesty, openness, personality, and appropriate fearlessness. To me that is the definition of being bold. I say all of this because I feel I have neglected to live with this sort of gumption lately. Why have I stopped being as bold as I used to be? January 2010=me being bold. January 2011=me being safe. Watching this video was like a slap on the wrist. Why didn't I just tell that person how I actually felt? Why didn't I just go to that event even though I didn't know anyone? Why am I letting myself miss out on experiences? Why am I not being bold? Bold with people I know, bold with people I don't know, bold with my goals, bold with my life in this new city. It is easier and less scary to be safe, but I am telling you now safe is not what I am after. Listen cosmos, I heard this wake up call. Fortune is good to the bold and fortune will be good to me.

patience

2011-01-24T11:32:00.005-07:00

Hm my internship starting day was going to be this Thursday but now has been moved to Monday the 31st. Another week in DC with no obligations. No work, no school, no internship, no nothing. This would be great if I were on vacation, but I am not. I live here. The thought of doing nothing for another week makes me very anxious. I am used to being busy all the time. It turns out I have had no obligations since I moved away from Provo on Dec 20, 2010. It is 2011 and I need to do something. Please let Monday get here quickly. In the meantime here are some things I am going to do to keep myself busy:

Reread President Uchtdorf's talk "Of Things That Matter Most" (I feel that this applies to my current state of non-obligation)
Library/Academic day at the Martin Luther King Jr. Memorial Library
Attend a USAID lecture on Wednesday
Explore U St.
Figure out where the Declaration of Independence is and go look at it.
Eat something delicious everyday
Photograph my experiences (by request)

question...

2011-01-19T20:29:00.005-07:00

Are you my ideal travel partner?

I found this interesting article today. It sheds some valuable light on how to choose a proper travel companion. When it comes to travel a good companion is essential. Choose wisely my friends.

Linked to the bottom of the article are two really great reference-ish articles. One is http://ultimatepackinglist.com/ and http://travelresourcelist.com/. The first gives advice on what is and isn't essential to pack and the second is a comprehensive list of all the trustworthy resources you would need regarding travel. (air and ground travel, accommodations, financial, travel community, etc.) Both will come in handy when you and/or I start planning that next adventure. If you have the travel bug as I do check them out.

best MLK Jr. Day ever

2011-01-17T21:10:00.005-07:00

Today was wonderful. It started with Scifi and I taking the metro to the National Portrait Gallery. This is where she will be interning until the end of May. As soon as we stepped off the metro we heard the rhythmic sounds of rap fill the streets. Naturally we walked toward the sound and found an enormous crowd of people gathering on the sidewalk. I was positive it was going to be a Step Up: The Streets style dance-off. Turns out it was actually a Martin Luther King Jr. commemorative luncheon. Apparently MLK loved rap. After that excursion we simply wandered. No plan, just fate to guide us. We ended up at the Hirshhorn. The exhibits were really beautiful. There were some pieces that I did not like, but for the most part it was lovely. My favorite piece was called Staging Silence by Hans Op de Beeck. It is a short film that recreates miniature landscapes of silence. That really isn't a great description, but whatever. I am clearly not an art historian. You can watch his film here and formulate your own opinion. After the Hirshhorn adventure we both realized we were orphan-style hungry. We went off in search of food, but not just any food. Lunch/Dinner had to be something extraordinary. We walked up 7th and around Chinatown all the while asking various people for recommendations. No luck. At this point we decided to, in the words of Tom Bell, pre-eat in preparation for dinner. We stopped at a cupcake shop called Red Velvet. Scifi got a job application and we both split a delish Peanut Butter Chocolate cupcake. Other than round two at the cupcakery, nothing in that part of town sounded appealing. We hopped on a metro and then later a bus and found ourselves in Foggy Bottom. After more walking we finally found Paradiso Pizzeria. If dinner could have a soul mate Paradiso would be it. It was perfect. After dinner we took the metro back to our quirky and wonderful row house on Rock Creek Church Rd. And that is how our MLK day ended. It was filled with city wanderings, modern art, and delicious food. Ultimately, it was everything we wanted it to be. Perfect.

Oh also worth mentioning we saw Whoopi Goldberg. kind of.

I moved to The District

2011-01-14T19:57:00.003-07:00

The air is crisp here and chills my face as I walk through the streets of my new city. I feel things are right.

curious box

2011-01-09T20:44:00.005-07:00

I went through my closet today and found a tin box with a label that read: "baby teeth, sea glass, old camera, tapes (in Lego box)". I couldn't contain my curiosity. Is that really what I put in that box years ago? I stopped what I was doing immediately and opened it. Sure enough there it all was. The label did not lie. These were the contents:

One plastic box in the shape of an extremely large red Lego with four cassette tapes inside. Some of the cassette tape titles included: Adventures of Magnificent Mac starring me and three other girls in my 6th grade class and A Child's Celebration of Showtunes.
One small plastic bag filled with green, brown, and opaque sea glass and one white shell
One Kodak Instamatic 104 camera previously owned by a mystery woman named Judy McMahan.
Four very small boxes containing my baby teeth and a letter to the Tooth Fairy covered in gold glitter. In the letter I asked the Tooth Fairy if I could please keep my teeth and if she would sign the letter. Now I can see that the signature is clearly in my mom's cursive handwriting.

I love that those are the items I chose to value and keep when I was a child. They are simple and memorable. I am glad that I found that box today and was reminded of those things I cherished.

2010: a sentimental flashback

2011-01-01T22:40:00.009-07:00

Dear Reader,

Here is a little sentimental flashback of my life in 2k10. Cue the music.

I moved to a new house...

...full of delightful people.

I went to Chicago with my good friend Sydney Lambson...

...and met up with Tiff, Jeff, and Brittney to present at a conference about technology and youth in Nepal.

I helped put on the annual Hunger Banquet with fellow SIDers (Students for International Development)

I went on adventures with Stac and Jules. For example, spring walks in South Provo...

...and spontaneous trips to the Salt Flats.

I ran away on the California Zephyr...

...and somehow ended up in Hopedale, Illinois's 4th of July parade.

I started to rock climb.

I celebrated love with old and dear friends at Tara and Ryan's wedding.

I celebrated friendship with new and dear friends by getting "friend-ship" tattoos (fake.)

I went on an excursion to Antelope Island with Stac and Lindsey.

I took an inspiring class with good friends and study partners.

I spent many a night studying/studying? in the library with fine folk.

Oh yes, and I graduated from college!

I hope you enjoyed that happy walk down memory lane.

Best Regards,

C Eff P

PS. here is where I am headed in 2011...

The District babe.

daydream I feel asleep beneath the flowers

2010-12-29T12:32:00.005-07:00

TRUTH: I daydream a lot, like a lot a lot. I think I can confidently say that I have at least two different and elaborate daydreams everyday. Imagine how productive I could be if I didn't have such an overactive imagination.

Let me give you an example. Yesterday I daydreamed that I took a bullet for President Obama while he was eating a late lunch with Michelle and the kids. I was their waiter at this hip little cafe in the District. He had a bodyguard with him who was clearly inept considering he didn't see the man with a gun come into the restaurant. I saw him. Right when I realized he was going to shoot the President I dropped my tray of deli sandwiches and limeade and lunged directly into the line of fire. The bullet hit my hand. Obama was saved. After the accompanying chaos settled, President Obama personally thanked me for my act of bravery and then invited me and a guest to a celebration he was hosting at the White House. I was trying to decide who I would bring when (real life) my mom and sister invited me to come thrift store shopping with them.

Daydream over.

Even when I am busy I make time for daydreaming. It is endlessly entertaining to me. You should try it.

small, tired thoughts

2010-12-24T00:12:00.003-07:00

It is 2 am.
I am awake.
I changed the look of my blog.
I don't know if this is going to last.
Sometimes change is good.
We will see.

The Twinkie War

2010-11-28T13:36:00.009-07:00

It all started one fine day when Jacob Lees Johnson brought two Twinkies to my house. Why he did this I cant quite remember, but regardless there were now two disgusting little American sweets in my possession. I ate one (nasty.) and then tried to convince all the others in my house to eat the other one. No takers. Actually I would say that everyone was extremely repulsed by the idea of ingesting one of those petroleum products. My roommate Alicia Harris probably was the most turned off by the treat. And that is when it began. The Twinkie War.

That night I put the twinkie on a cute saucer with a tender note addressed to Alicia and placed the present on the doormat outside her door.
The next day I found the twinkie back in my house with a note that said something about enemies. harsh?
A couple days after that I hid the twinkie somewhere in her frig.
A couple days after that the twinkie somehow got back to me. Can't remember how.
About a week later I put the twinkie in a ziploc bag and put it in her shower.
About a week after that I went to go to sleep and lo and behold the twinkie was in my pillow.
Then there was a time of peace...

Until about a month and a half later I emptied out a specialty caramel box (caramels are Alicia's favorite) and placed the extremely old but still intact and surprisingly fresh looking twinkie in the box, addressed it to Alicia, and secretly placed it on her bed as a sort of belated birthday gift.

gotcha.

That was a couple of weeks ago. Fast forward: Two nights ago while driving home from St. George Alicia texted me saying she had something for me. How exciting right? Well, I got home and she handed me a copy of a commentary on the Bhagavad-Gita and said, "I saw it and just had to get it for you." Lie.
I opened it up and what was inside? That filthy twinkie.

She had carved out pages of the book in order to make a perfect little nook for the sickly sweet treat. Just like jailbirds do to hide their contraband.

And now here is a public announcement for Alicia Lynn Harris. I resign from the Twinkie War. The "twinkie in a book" stunt trumped them all. Congrats.

books books books books books books books

2010-11-10T17:40:00.006-07:00

Emily Dickinson said, "If I read a book and it makes my whole body so cold no fire can ever warm me, I know that it is poetry." I love her words. Though I don't want to be cold forever, I do want to feel that consuming power of books. I love when a story captures you, not letting you escape until it has retched every emotion out of you. I love that because it is real. As people, we feel emotion so deeply, but often are too afraid to express it. Literature gives both the writer and reader the opportunity to be raw, to confront that emotion head on. For me, books are safe and dangerous. They make me think, feel, desire, question, despise, love and so much more. I read A Tree Grows in Brooklyn awhile ago and in that book the mother requires that her children read one page of the Bible and one page of a good book every night. I have tried to adopt this habit. Though this is hard to do during school, it is, in my mind, a beautiful challenge. Last night I read a chapter in 2 Nephi and a chapter in The Good Earth. I feel edified. And tonight it will start again.

Paper

2010-11-02T17:30:00.005-06:00

Someone please explain this phenomena to me. Why is it that every single time I try to write an academic paper my fingers somehow magically begin typing out blog posts instead of lit. reviews? In the words of MLM,"Science can't explain it." The interweb is magnetic.

Enough with that. Now I have for you, dear reader, two bite size stories. Vignettes if you will into my daily happenings.

The Quarter

The other day I went to the Walgreen's on State St. to pick up a prescription. As always, the prescription was not ready (frustration.) so I found myself with a few minutes to kill. After strolling down aisles B and C I decided I needed to take a quick bathroom break. As I entered the bathroom I noticed a quarter on the floor. "A Quarter!," I thought to myself, "Perfect! I want that." I reached down to pick it up and abruptly realized that something was not right about this coinage. Why was I struggling to pick it up? Why was it not moving at all when I touched it?

This was my first encounter with the good ole "glue the quarter to the ground" trick. Congrats Provo pranksters, you got me. Funny joke...

but maybs I really wanted that quarter. jerks.

The Puppy Pillow

Last week I got ice cream in the Cougar Eat with my friend Jules. While sitting in the big atrium part something unusual rolled past which caught my attention. It was a lady in an electric wheelchair. I know this is not that unusual, but keep listening. As I watched her I noticed that there was something wedged between the back of her neck and the wheelchair headrest. It was off-white and...wiggling?

Yes, wiggling. Low and behold it was a living, breathing dog. A toy poodle to be exact. She was using that canine as a pillow! Gah. Is it wrong to use a live animal as a travel pillow? Is that marketable? I should have saved that pillow. That poor puppy pillow.

I think I will write my pap now.

Tiny Home

2010-10-28T21:09:00.004-06:00

A week ago today I went to a small show at the Hugh B. Brown House and witnessed absolute magic happen. That magic was Tiny Home. You know that kind of music that strikes you, leaving you smiling and enchanted? This is it. Tiny Home, you are oh so beautiful.

Captivated aren't you? For more greatness go to their website. http://www.tinyhomemusic.com/Tiny_Home/Tiny_Home.html

endlessly funny.

2010-10-09T18:15:00.004-06:00

Hello Blogosphere

2010-09-14T17:56:00.003-06:00

here is glimpse of what I am thinking/feeling/doing right now:

writing a paper about the invisibility of women within the field of anthropology which is making me feel annoyed and frustrated because everything that I am writing about is true.

remembering how I attended the Utah State Fair yesterday which is making me feel happy and laughy (word? not sure.) because it was so entertaining and reminded me of home.

talking to my rents and insurance company about my possibly totaled car which is making me feel depressed and irritated that I do not have a job.

mazel tov america.

VOTE FOR AUSTIN!

2010-08-22T21:54:00.001-06:00

OK so my friend Austin is competing for this great job in LA. The first phase of the competition is a public voting thing. Tomorrow, Monday Aug 23rd, is the last day to vote. I would appreciate and I know Austin especially would appreciate your vote. Just click here to vote for this fly guy. Thanks a mil!!

PS. check out the videos he has been making for this competition. He is destroying old tvs in order to make way for new, super cool technology. It is very entertaining trust me.

To see all of the videos go here.

Antelopes on a Island

2010-08-15T17:46:00.005-06:00

Are you aware that the rocks on Antelope Island are some of the oldest found anywhere on the earth?

Ya it was news to me too. Cool, geological news. I found this out yesterday when I went to Antelope Island with Stacy and Lindsey. It was beautiful, hot, salty, and bisony. I loved every adventurous second.

The History of Love p. 84

2010-08-07T23:48:00.002-06:00

"...I danced the only way I knew how to dance: for life, crashing into the chairs, and spinning until I fell, so that I could get up and dance again, until dawn broke and found me prostrate on the floor, so close to death I could spit into it and whisper: L'chaim."

life moments impossible to forget

2010-07-22T14:23:00.003-06:00

Provo 09, India 09, Indiana 08, Europe 08, Jerusalem 08

FREEDOM

2010-07-02T20:40:00.006-06:00

So this glorious Fourth of July weekend I am going with the fam bam to our friend's farm in Hopedale, Illinios. According to the 2000 census, 929 people live in this glamorous "village". Mind you that is about the size of my high school graduating class. I cannot wait to go. I am going to drive a combine and LOVE it.

Currently, I am packing all of the red, white, and blue things I will need for the weekend. (NOTE: I love dressing up for holidays. Halloween, Christmas, Election Day you name it) Outside I can hear the neighbors setting off fireworks and it sounds like canons. I find it interesting and rather symbolic that fireworks are set off on the Fourth. We are celebrating American independence. Freedom that was fought for. I bet if you closed your eyes during a firework show and just listened it would sound like a revolutionary battlefield. Rifle blast, snaps from an army snare drum, and then moments of absolute calm before another strong burst from a canon. Those explosions brought us liberty and now these ones outside my window are celebrating that fact. It truly is a miracle that we won that war and even are a nation. I just finished reading 1776 by David McCullough and it was excellent. I know this sounds cheesy, but I really do have such an appreciation for our founding fathers. Thanks Washington, Adams, and the rest of the revolutionary crew. Now I have an excuse to attend many delicious BBQs, watch fireworks and parades (possibly be in the Hopedale parade), and hang out at a little mom and pop farm in the middle of nowhere. I LOVE Independence. Even though I wont be in Provo, which is absolute madness (good madness) on the Fourth of July, I have a feeling that this 7-4-2010 is going to be memorable.

you know what would be neat?

2010-06-27T15:38:00.006-06:00

Oh if Marvin Hamlisch conducted a symphony dedicated to movie music on a grassy, green hill at sunset with five hot air balloons dotting the sky.

Ya that would be neat.

Thanks Marvin.

Thanks Symphony on the Prairie.

Thanks Indiana.

yes this is beautiful

2010-06-15T00:26:00.003-06:00

Meditation at Lagunitas

by Robert Hass

All the new thinking is about loss.

In this it resembles all the old thinking.

The idea, for example, that each particular erases

the luminous clarity of a general idea. That the clown-

faced woodpecker probing the dead sculpted trunk

of that black birch is, by his presence,

some tragic falling off from a first world

of undivided light. Or the other notion that,

because there is in this world no one thing

to which the bramble of blackberry corresponds,

a word is elegy to what it signifies.

We talked about it late last night and in the voice

of my friend, there was a thin wire of grief, a tone

almost querulous. After a while I understood that,

talking this way, everything dissolves: justice,

pine, hair, woman, you and I. There was a woman

I made love to and I remembered how, holding

her small shoulders in my hands sometimes,

I felt a violent wonder at her presence

like a thirst for salt, for my childhood river

with its island willows, silly music from the pleasure boat,

muddy places where we caught the little orange-silver fish

called pumpkinseed. It hardly had to do with her.

Longing, we say, because desire is full

of endless distances. I must have been the same to her.

But I remember so much, the way her hands dismantled bread,

the thing her father said that hurt her, what

she dreamed. There are moments when the body is as numinous

as words, days that are the good flesh continuing.

Such tenderness, those afternoons and evenings,

saying blackberry, blackberry, blackberry.

Summer Sweet Treat Special

2010-05-22T19:28:00.004-06:00

I posted this Provo Summer Treats Guide on my "travel secrets" blog called At That One Place, but decided it was worth posting here as well.

So Provo Summer Twenty Ten is going to be all about the sweet treats. I have been discovering (with the help of friends) multiple delicious establishments that serve up some cheap and tempting items. Here are some sweet secrets:

La Michocana Mexican Creameria: 1700 North State St, Provo, UT 84604
This place is divine. The lovely Mexican woman who owns this creameria makes delicious flavors like guava, mango, rose petal, and pinon (pine nut) fresh everyday. I am telling you it is superb. The smallest size is actually really large and costs a little over $3, which is a total steal for the quantity and more importantly the quality of ice cream. They also have freshly made popsicles and delicious cinnamon horchata for less than $2. (Thanks Leland)
tempted?

The Jerk Shack: 162 W Center Street Orem, UT
This little shack off the side of the road in Orem sells pretty good Jamaican food, but I will tell you the frozen bananas they offer are where it's at. Big banana, freshly dipped in chocolate, tons of toppings. And it is only $1.89
tempted?

Sammy's: 27 N 100 W Provo, UT
50% off pie shakes during happy hour which is everyday except Saturday from 3 to 5. Also, 2 for 1 pie shakes everyday Tuesday all day. A normal $4 delicious pie shake for only $2? Yes please. Unfortunately you cannot do 2 for 1 during 50% off happy hour on Tuesdays. I have already tried this. My favorite shake is Oreo Cream Pie with Raspberry. sups delicious. Worth noting: Sammy's also has 75 cent grilled cheese sandwiches every Monday.
tempted?

Rowley's South Ridge Farm: 300 West 900 South Santaquin, Utah 84655
Though I have never actually been here, it has been confirmed from a friend that the fresh ice cream at this farm is very delicious. As you drive to Mona Lake from Provo there is a big red barn to your right. That is it. Stop and go there. (Thanks Erin)
tempted?

Maverick: (Provo location) 307 S State St. Provo, Utah 84606
Ok this is more main stream. Maverick gas stations are all over the place and all of them might have this techno contraption, but I just don't know for sure. Anyway, I am talking about the milkshake maker. You get a cup of frozen solid ice cream, put it in this machine, choose your desired milkshake thickness, and press go. The ice cream cup goes up into the machine and seconds later you have a hand crafted milkshake. Impressed? I know I was too. (Thanks Lindsey)

The Chocolate: 212 South State Street Orem, Utah
Cupcakes seem to be all the rage in Provo lately. It is funny to me that certain foods can be more popular than others as manifested in this cupcake craze. But let's face it cupcakes are the new "it" girl. Of all the cupcake establishments around town The Chocolate is hands down the most affordable and most delicious. Cupcakes are $2.25 each. The bakery also sells other sweet treats that are definitely worth tasting. I had this caramel turtle tart thing which was heavenly.
tempted?

I hope this list will satisfy your summer sweet tooth. enjoy!

Guerrilla Poetry in the Night

2010-05-20T21:14:00.004-06:00

Men by Lydia Davis

There are also men in the world. Sometimes we forget, and think there are only women--endless hills and plains of unresisting women. We make little jokes and comfort each other and our lives pass quickly. But every now and then, it is true, a man rises unexpectedly in our midst like a pine tree, and looks savagely at us, and sends us hobbling away in great floods to hide in the caves and gullies until he is gone.

Last month was National Poetry Month and in honor of this momentous occasion my roommate hosted a Guerrilla Poetry Night. What is guerrilla poetry you ask?

Well, guerrilla poetry by definition is the act of leading poetry in public spaces, to engage a community audience. For us it consisted of reading delicious poetry at Rowley Press, prepping it artistically for the great outdoors and then spreading the poetry like wildfire on the streets of Provo in the middle of the night. Thanks to Kenz and I, Provo's landscape is now laced with beautiful poetry. On a post, in a tree, on a bike...

Enjoy Provoites enjoy.

Indiana or Bust!

2010-05-05T11:13:00.005-06:00

*I took this picture from a hot air balloon as I rode over the corn and soy bean fields by my house. neat huh?

In about four hours I will be on a plane headed east to Indiana. I moved there when I was seven (I think) and love it dearly. The people I grew up with, namely Brittany, Erica, Katie, Steph, and Brooke, have affected me deeply. I love the memories I have of our adventures.

The reason why I am going there now is to see my bombshell little sister star in her high school musical, Oklahoma! (ps. I learned how to spell that word from the song Oklahoma! and now I cant spell it without singing it in my head. sometimes nice. sometimes annoying.) Becca will play Laurey the Oklahoma beauty who is relentlessly pursued but Curly, the dreamboat, and Judd, the creep. Who will win her heart? Only time will tell.

Though I love my sister and can't wait to see her in the show, I'll be honest, I really don't like this musical. When I was little I would act out the story while watching the film adaptation at least twice a week. So if I do my calculations correctly that means I have seen this musical one trillion times. At about viewing number 300,000,000 I stopped liking it. The hookers in the dream sequence always freaked me out.

Regardless, I cant wait to go home to the corn fields and humidity to catch a little Rogders and Hammerstein and see the fam bam.

a sudden jolt of weather pushed us outside

2010-04-27T00:15:00.004-06:00

Maynard

2010-04-22T12:32:00.006-06:00

I recently got a job working as a Special Collections research assistant in the BYU library. Though the position sounds kind of glamorous, I'll be honest it is a little boring. Thankfully the SC reading room where I work is full of beautiful Maynard Dixon paintings so whenever I feel like things are getting especially dull I daydream about being in these breathtaking landscapes.

The Plains

High in the Morning

this music moves me

2010-04-14T14:41:00.003-06:00

I have become obsessed with First Aid Kit. Thanks Sweden. Thanks Sara.

we are gypsies

2010-04-01T14:30:00.011-06:00

so it all started with a walk around south provo which turned into a mini road trip to the salt flats to shoot a photo essay which eventually turned into a "pull out all the stops" adventure to Wendover.

HIGHLIGHTS:
running around through a seagull graveyard on the shore of the Great Salt Lake
sampling buffalo and elf jerky from a shack on wheels with a hunter I believe named Bob
"The Metaphor"
walking on glassy salt
20 minutes in Wendover
delicious music thanks to DJ StacChase
quick stop at Hires

this adventure was very reminiscent of another adventure that took place last summer which involved a secret treehouse and river dances.

i love these ladies. we are gypsies.

my humble abode

2010-03-09T13:49:00.002-07:00

you are looking good this march. just saying.

cosas

2010-02-24T19:13:00.005-07:00

here are some things/people/moments that I really miss lately.

chaos and cows.
Krishnayya and VEERAJU.
drinking sick coconuts and these ladies.
huge Indian statues of babies.
this exact moment.
(meghan dancing? natalie with her dress tucked into her underwear, kristin with her hand on my bum accidentally, me awkward with kristin's hand is on my bum accidentally, and Char-les)

i miss you india.

I am in love with February!

2010-02-03T16:33:00.003-07:00

oh the best thing just happened to me. So I was sitting at a table on the fifth floor of the library and I felt like I was going to die because the materiel I was studying was so boring. I am sorry but I just don't like the Protestant Reformation. So I decided to go take a casual stroll around the fifth floor to by some time before I could go home. And that is when I saw it. Celestial Gallery aka a huge book of Buddhist artwork. Intrigued and with nothing better to do, I opened the book and out fell a hand-written note that said,

"You're A Winner!"

Yes.
Yes I am a winner.
Yes I was the lucky lady who found the note inside the book on the fifth floor of the library.
Yes I absolutely am winner.
Yes .

You are genius February and I love you.

VICTORY

2010-01-27T19:09:00.000-07:00

yep. i got my ORCA grant.

I like the way that word feels

2010-01-22T02:01:00.000-07:00

Poetry is something I have really come to love lately. Thank you Meghan L. McGrath. There is something about reading a poem that clicks with you that is so rewarding. like when the words are so beautiful that you cry or when it is so originally written that you look at an object or a feeling differently. here is how Billy Collins describes it:

Poem
by Billy Collins

It's like writing a short letter
to everyone in the world at once,

only I don't have anyone's address
and there is no thin blue envelope to carry it,

no tiny picture of a famous aviator
or of a blooming flower to speed it on its way.

nice huh? If I am remembering correctly way back in the day people in Japan would just speak in poetry. only poetry. how beautiful.

here are some other poems that i like.

This Is Just To Say
by William Carlos Williams

I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox

and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast

Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold

this one is a bit to long to post here, but please read it. you wont regret it. Annie Get Your Gun Fifth in a series of eight manifestos. by D. A. Powell

and this one I dedicate to Stacy Lynn Challis.

The Problem of Describing Trees
by Robert Hass

The aspen glitters in the wind
And that delights us.

The leaf flutters, turning,
Because that motion in the heat of August
Protects its cells from drying out. Likewise the leaf
Of the cottonwood.

The gene pool threw up a wobbly stem
And the tree danced. No.
The tree capitalized.
No. There are limits to saying,
In language, what the tree did.

It is good sometimes for poetry to disenchant us.

Dance with me, dancer. Oh, I will.

Mountains, sky,
The aspen doing something in the wind.

Feliz Navidad toda la gente!!

2009-12-27T17:10:00.001-07:00

What doesn't scream Merry Christmas like a holiday photo shoot, liberally decorated sugar cookies in the shape of the star of David, and a 47 minute conversation with Elder Petersen?

Favorite Gift: a beautiful watercolor painting by a local Indiana artist
Most Delicious Gift: Ritter Sport Variety Pack and Mighty Leaf African Nectar Tea
Most Unique Gift: the Life Hammer

What is a Life Hammer you ask? well it is just a solid metal pick axe that is designed specifically to make smashing a car window easier. useful tool right? My parents insisted that all of the kids keep one in their car just in case they have to make a quick get away. like if we drove the car into a lake or something. yikes right? better safe than sorry. Thanks rents!!! perfect stocking stuffer.

Merry Christmas.

what have i been doing you ask?

2009-12-21T14:43:00.001-07:00

this is what i have been doing lately...

celebrated Thanksgiving on the roof with the programmers.
attended a fake wedding and the Break Up dance party that followed.
adopted a puppy named Taj.
walked up 1108 stairs with a cow.
hid some secrets.
set out on an adventure.
went to heaven.
rode a scooter on an island. naked.
celebrated St. Nicholas Day in a piggy pen.
saw some things that were golden.
made some lovely friends.
experienced an interesting train ride.
went to this place that was big and white.
and now i am in America.

AT THAT ONE PLACE

2009-11-13T09:51:00.000-07:00

Ok comrades I have started a new blog. It is called AT THAT ONE PLACE. Here is the url www.atthatoneplace.blogspot.com The point of this blog is to share secret little details about places all over the world. I have met some really cool people lately who have experienced life in very unique ways because of the places they have been and the way they choose to travel. Why experience a place the way the travel channel wants you to when you can experience it the “local” way? On the blog I will compile delicious tips and tricks that I learn from the people I meet. I also want all the readers to include their recommendations about the places they have been also so please comment away. I just started it so there isn’t much on there yet, but paciencia it will be quite lovely in the end.

Dark Palms on a Light Sky

2009-11-12T08:55:00.000-07:00

this is one of the main reasons i like you india. dark palms on a light sky.

"So all of you will be in disguise?"

2009-11-09T23:52:00.000-07:00

So all of us lovely Americans have been looking forward to Halloween since we stepped on the Indian subcontinent only for the reason that it is the only American holiday while we are here (hmm...excluding Thanksgiving) So to celebrate the festive day of pumpkins, ghosts, and disguises we hosted a little All Hallows Eve party at our house.
I was a delightful version of Professor Trelawney.

At the party we had spooky things to eat like spider cookies and RIP tombstones made out of Parle-G biscuits and played cheesy games like bobbing for apples and donuts on a string. Let me tell you donuts on a string was an absolute crowd pleaser for our diverse group of party goers.

First round: The Germans versus The Indians
Second round: The Americans versus Anita
Third round: Kid Brother versus Big Brother
Needless to say from the joy on peoples faces, the partiers liked donuts. And a fun version of public embarassment.

The crowd.

My friends from the hostel came too. Neeraja, Shaheda, and Nita.

oh and a danicing IDLI.
Consensus. Halloween in India= delightful.

to father

2009-10-24T08:32:00.000-06:00

hey pops! So remember when I made a wish for you on the wishing pillar at the Simhachalam temple? And remember when that wish came true?! Yes well it did. So to show my thanks to Nerasimha, the half-man half-lion god of the temple, for making my wish come true I brought him a delicious Indian orange. I even hiked all the way up a set of saree and saddhu lined stairs through the jungly mountain to get to the top just to show how grateful I was. And that is that. I am glad my wish came true.

Flap Jack Friday: Vizag edition

2009-10-24T08:01:00.000-06:00

Please what honestly is more delicious than a eating a divine pancake? I will tell you. Eating rose and almond pancakes while listening to the sounds of the American labor movement in a hot Indian kitchen with delightful people all sharing in your love of flapjacks, railways workers, and delicious folk music. Thank you Meghan L. McGrath.
Meghan casually whistling "The Big Rock Candy Mountain" while mixing up some cakes.

Pypitalli in Vizianagaram

2009-10-14T10:18:00.000-06:00

Here is the story. Once upon a time there was a girl whose father went to battle. While he was away the girl had a dream that predicted that he would die. When she woke up she raced to the battlefront only to first run into a messenger that told her that her father was dead. The girl was so distraught that she killed herself by walking straight into a lake and never surfaced. Until…a little while later her ghost appeared to the masses saying that she was now the goddess of the village and that the people needed to retrieve her body and a mysterious stone sculpture of her from the bottom of the lake and then worship her. The fishermen of the village heeded her call and retrieved her body and sculpture from the lake. And now she is the mother goddess of Vizianagaram.
Now here is the festival. Pypitalli is the festival that celebrates the mother goddess described in the story above. The basis of the festival is this. Weeks prior to the festival a temple priest has a vision of a sacred tree that dwells somewhere in the city. The priest then finds the sacred tree cuts it down and makes a four-story tall pole out of it. During the festival a man dressed up like the goddess is strapped haphazardly to the pole and hoisted up into the air. The goddess then goes on a procession to and from the city fort and the goddess temple three times in order to properly collect all of her belongings and gifts aka sarees, sweets, jewelry, etc. The interesting twist to the whole thing is that during the procession everyone in the crowd is allowed to forcefully throw bananas at the man/goddess. 400,000 people attend this festival every year and absolute take over the streets. The whole experience of attending the festival is exciting, fascinating, and absolutely nerve racking. Let’s take a look.

Now let me ask you this. Would you rather be haphazardly tied to a pole that is taller than all the buildings around you and then have bananas thrown at you or have to stand in that crowd for one hour in open-toed shoes?

Conchum Hyderabad Highlights

2009-10-05T05:43:00.000-06:00

About two weeks ago a group of us went on an adventure to Hyderabad. Here are some highlights.

Gigantic Buddha: This enormous statue was built in the middle of a lake in the middle of the city. I am not quite sure why considering Hyderabad does not have that large of a Buddhist population. Regardless, it is rather impressive.

Golconda Fort: Muslim kings built Golconda Fort when the Mogul Empire controlled parts of India. It is quite the hike to the top but the view is worth it.

Group Shot: Oh just the group taking a little breather outside of a mosque while making the trek to the top of the fort. Please note the overall blinding whiteness of our complexions. Eight tall grains of white rice. Who knew that living in India would actually make someone more pale.

Way to UP: simple and to the point. Thank you India for your entertaining phrases.

Charminar: It is said that there is a secret passageway that goes from the top of Golconda Fort all the way to Charminar. Its purpose was to give the kings a way to run away if anyone were to invade the fort. Extremely cool right? Imagine running through miles of secret passages ways that finally lead to the biggest antique shopping center in Hyderabad. Chala exciting. Charminar itself is a series of streets that are filled with mosques and shops. You know you are there when you enter one of four elaborate gateways. At the center of the street system is a huge gateway (the one in the picture) with lattice marble details and Islamic style archways. To get to the top of the gateway it costs 5 rupees for an Indian and 100 rupees for anyone else. Um really irritating. The shops in Charminar sell everything under the sun, but most specialize in pearls. Curious considering Hyderabad is 13 hours from the coast right?

Perfumes: Charminar also specializes in perfume making. According to Islamic tradition, all faithful followers cannot put alcohol into their bodies, even alcohol that is used in perfumes. To remedy this problem the perfume is oil based and contains no alcohol. This makes the perfumes way more potent and totally kosher. The merchants mix and sell every smell imaginable. How about the sweet smell of jasmine? The intriguing scent of musk? Or how about something that smells like earth right after it rains? They have got it all.

Graffiti: A charming little bit of graffiti I found on my seat while riding the bus.

The Charmer: This Indian man won my heart. He was quietly sitting cross-legged on the side of the road with a small box filled with random stones and rings. The first time I saw him I just walked past, but the second time I had to stop. Natalie, Kristin, and I all admired his jewelry and ended up all buying rings from him. I really didn’t even want a ring. I just wanted to give this man money. You know when you meet someone and you can just tell they have a good character? That is how I felt about this skinny, old Indian man. What a charmer.

Overall, Hyderabad was a complete success. Thank you India.

Vizag Socialite

2009-09-15T07:07:00.000-06:00

So maybe everyone in Vizag thinks that this new, mysterious group of Americans (aka me and the other students) are the cat's pajamas. And maybe we have been in about 15 newspapers so far. Some are flattering pictures and others not so flattering. Thank you India. Take a look at some highlights.

It all started with this fine fellow. The caption translated from Telugu into English reads: “The Americans are suffering from heat stroke and stop at the soda stand to refresh themselves.” Yes heat stroke.

Next, the trip to Kakinada. Can I tempt you with a five picture spread in color?

The most recent “The Stars Are Just Like Us” edition can be found in two different places in the regional section of The Hindu, India’s national newspaper. The pictures were taken as we “casually” browsed the North East India Craft Fair in Vizag. The first is a group shot. Please note Natalie, the girl third from the left. Has she smelt something horrible? Is she recovering from a sneeze. Thank you India for capturing this moment.

The second article and photo about the fair in The Hindu stars yours truly. How about a full body picture that takes up half the page. Yes please.

Here is a close up.

If you feel so inclined to read the accompanying article to these pictures here is the link.

http://www.thehindu.com/2009/09/12/stories/2009091254430500.htm

CHAPUNDI

2009-09-08T06:10:00.000-06:00

Ninna nenu artipandu tinanu.
Swirls and twirls + nonsense = telugu

Telugu class with Maleavasani.

oh hey...Ganesh.

2009-09-07T23:43:00.000-06:00

For the past week or so a festival for Ganesh has been going on in Vizag. Brief bio: Ganesh is the elephant headed god. He is the god over students and protects entryways and exits. He rides on the back of a mouse and loveeeesssssssss sweets. Maybe you are wondering why he has the head of an elephant. Well I will tell you.

So the story goes like this…

One day Pavarti, Shiva’s wife, noticed that she was quite dirty and decided she wanted to take a bath. Unfortunately, her husband and all of the available guards were out hunting so no one was there to guard the door of the bathroom. Big problem right? What if someone just opened the door? This is Pavarti we are talking about. The wife of the god Shiva. Someone MUST guard the door. So being the clever woman that she is, she decided that she would create someone to guard the door. She began rubbing the dirt and mud off of her arm, which miraculously created a man aka Ganesh. Problem solved. So Ganesh guarded the bathroom door while Pavarti took a bath. Moments later Shiva returned from his hunting expedition and saw this strange man standing outside his wife’s bathroom door. How scandalous!! Outraged he drew his sword and chopped off Ganesh’s head. Maybe he over reacted maybe he didn’t. Pavarti distressed by all of the commotion going on outside, finished her bath and opened the door only to see that her newly created son was now headless. Immediately she shouted at Shiva, frantically asking why he had done such a thing. Shiva responded by saying that this man was about to enter the room while she was bathing. He had to defend her honor. Pavarti quickly informed Shiva that this “stranger” was no stranger at all and was in fact his new son. What a downer. He had just decapitated his son. So to fix the situation Shiva set out to find the missing head. Unfortunately, he could not find it so instead he went out into the street, cut off the head of the nearest elephant and firmly attached it to Ganesh’s body. At last all body parts and family members were reunited and lived happily ever after. And so the story goes.

So basically this festival is a nonstop party for a debatable amount of days. Some people celebrate it for three days, some five days, some 12 days, etc. First you create a shrine for Ganesh, then feed him tons of delicious treats, and finally on the last day you throw him into the sea. Yes. Straight into the sea.

Yesterday we all went to Bhimilipatnam and saw this happen. A huge group of devotees were haling Ganesh down to the shoreline. Lots of colors, lots of sounds, and lots of people. All things India. I am glad I got to witness it. Go Ganesh!!!!

Happy Independence Day India!!!!

2009-08-16T03:44:00.000-06:00

Me pearuemiti?

August 15th is India's Independence Day and so to celebrate some friends and I went to a flag raising ceremony at a primary school in a fishing village nearby our house called Jalaripeta. Everyone was decked out in their India gear. There were flags, balloons, India pins, and about 250 extremely excited Indian children who all wanted their picture taken.

These next two pictures are from a short trip to the shipyard. People and fish were everywhere. These women were having a slightly heated conversation on what I think was fish, but considering all I can understand in Telugu is "my name is Courtney" maybe they were fighting about something else. like the weather.

The perfect Indian ending to the perfect Indian day.

2009-08-16T03:28:00.000-06:00

So the day started at 5:00 in the morning when the mosquitoes were still lethargically flying around after a night of feasting. After struggling to get up we grabbed two auto rickshaws to the train station in order to catch a train to a place called Araku Valley which is a three hour train ride away. Once we got to the station we gathered with the rest of our group, gave a beggar a Parle-G with crunchy peanut butter, and made our way to the correct train car. So we get on the train and there are no seats so we are reluctantly directed to sit on top of the luggage racks that were dangling from the ceiling. yes the ceiling. so I stayed up there for awhile until I was directed again to move over to a small open seat by a caged window. Comfortable right? well not for long because two seconds later this Indian woman and her 2 year old daughter asked me in Telugu to scoot over so that they could sit on the same seat. Mind you the seat is about the same size as a folding chair. Ten minutes later I somehow ended up holding the baby girl on my lap while the mom slept, slowing pushing me off the chair into the lap of the irritated Indian man sitting across from me. And yes I stayed that way for the rest of the 2 1/2 hours we were on the train.
Upon arriving in Araku Valley a guy who I think was named Prati gave us jack fruit, Cream rolls aka rolls filled with strawberry frosting, and a two liter of water. Then it was the hike to Borra caves. And by hike I mean walking on the railroad tracks that we had just taken to get to the valley. The cave was an adventure in itself. First, everyone had to check all of their cameras with some sketchy Indian man. Then we all went down a monkey infested pathway to the cave. Michelle was kicked in the thigh by a medium sized monkey. Just saying. Once we were in the caves we were bombarded by people that wanted to take our picture. Curious right considering everyone “had” to check their cameras before descending into the cave. Another interesting thing occurring in the cave was that everyone seemed to be blind to the fact that the sides of the walkways were barricaded by fences. These fences were mere suggestions though. All Indian tourists were hoping the fences and scaling the cave walls in order to get that perfect family photo.
Once out of the cave our group all crammed into an open jeep and drove to a straw hut covered in yellowing newspaper for lunch. All throughout lunch Meghan discussed the terrors of pickled limes and the evil schemes of Hanuman. After lunch we all piled into the jeep again. 12 people per jeep which comfortably seated 7 maximum. We made our way up a rocky cliff side to a trailhead which lead to a beautiful, secluded waterfall. Upon arriving at the waterfall we realized that it was far from secluded. The whole place was filled with scantily clad Indian men who once again all wanted a picture with us.
On the way back from the waterfall we realized that we had missed the 4:30 train and now had to ride the bus back to Vizag. No big right? So we waited. And waited. And waited. While waiting Natalie, Kristin and I decided that we needed to use the bathroom so we went and asked a store owner were the restroom was and this was his response, “Behind the school. There is an open space. Very silent”. And so we went to the open, silent place and then rejoined the group. In order to entertain ourselves while waiting we played the game “Who would you rather have come and save us from Araku Valley.” Both David Bowie and Pintiya (the friendly ex-smuggler who lives in the fishing village near our house) scored high. Four hours and three too full buses to Vizag later we decided to have a car take us home. And so we crammed all 13 of us including the driver into the car and drove 3 hours back to Vizag while listening to sweet Telugu pop music. And that is my life in India.

more Nepal

2009-08-05T03:30:00.000-06:00

the Sanku crew!! they are all total gems.
teaching Ramita about the FAMA method.
just feeding a baby elephant. that's all
on the river in Chitwan right before Sydney's hand almost was eaten by a native crocodile.

Nepal

2009-07-25T02:06:00.000-06:00

Just in Kathmandu with Sydney and Jeff. We have been going nonstop since I got here. We went to Chitwan for a three day adventure where we rode elephants in the jungle, rafted down the Trisuli, bathed with elephants in a dirty river, saw crocodiles while floating in a hollowed out tree, danced a traditional Tharu dance on stage with a bunch of native Nepalis, and sweated a lot.
Right now we are in Sanku at the Youth Technology Center with Ramita. Ramita and a few others run the center and plan and hold other activites for the youth and the community. Today we filmed a tutorial in Nepali on how to use the online manuals that I made for ProLiteracy and Community Development Network. If you want to check them out just go to opencontentfordevelopment.wetpaint.com Sanku and really Nepal in its entirity is so beautiful. I will post more pictures soon. It just takes about twenty hours to load one picture. bah.

first thoughts

2009-07-19T11:39:00.000-06:00

so I have arrived in Delhi and here are some of my first thoughts.

-India smells like spices and heat
-though most Indians speak English I still have no idea what they are saying and have quickly adopted the phrase, "I'm sorry but what did you say?"
-Sarees are the most beautiful things I have ever seen and I want to wear one everyday
-Rupees are confusing
-Delhi reminds me a lot of Cairo

Well India I like you already.

2009-07-16T23:17:00.001-06:00

india bound.