Indian core exercises – amazing video.

 

Never seen anything like this before… amazing.

Do 3 sets of this routine twice per week. j/k

One problem with traveling

As an addendum to my last post, I see one major problem with my passion:

It doesn’t provide a contribution to the world really.

Now if my hobby were crocheting I’d at least be creating something new, or if it were keeping an orderly house I’d be contributing to my family and civilization. Or even if my passion were playing basketball, like it is Jacob’s, it would be something to do on the side. But traveling right now is full time.

When I was a piano teacher, I had only 19 students. But I know that for 19 people, I was their Piano Teacher, and I’ll play an important role in their memories, as well as hopefully provided a useful skill, for the rest of their lives.

Meanwhile, I meet new people daily here, but most of them are just shallow acquaintances.

As far as I can see it, I’m providing just three small services by traveling:

One, we’re boosting the local economy by visiting.

Two, we’re serving a bit as ambassadors for America, and a little bit, for Mormons, in that we’re helping build good relations with natives in different countries. Kinda like missionaries.

Three, maybe we can share a global perspective with others in some way.

However, if we’re going to do this long term I’ll have to have more motivation than that.

Either we will stay long enough in each place to (one or more of the following)

-Learn a language

-Educate our children

-Hold a calling at church

-Monetize and capitalize and provide a service from traveling

-Build lasting friendships

Or my passion may have to be relegated to the background when Jacob and I have kids, allowed to happen in spurts. Because just to drift for our entire lives, while I would enjoy that, I don’t know that we would have a sort of permanent impact in the world. Is it possible to really make a difference….as a nomad?

I’m afraid of being a passive observer of life all over the world, rather than an active participant in one small corner.

PS Thanks to Jefferson and Erica, we are officially obsessed with playing Scramble on the iPad. We play tons of matches daily. And while I won at first, Jacob has gradually began dominating the game and it’s making him very pleased with himself.

PPS Today Jacob sat down at the piano and sightread some hymns. What the heck?

I learn something new about him every day.

Today, it was that he can learn how to play the piano just by looking sideways at the music. Literally. He looks at it sideways, and he can see if he should move his hand right or left on the keyboard.

26 Reasons Why I Travel

I realize that not everyone would do what Jacob and I are doing. Traveling is certainly not everyone’s dream.

But it is mine.

It is such an all-consuming passion of mine, in fact, that I stare dreamily at maps of the globe for hours on end. Nothing is on the maps but the countries and sometimes their capital cities. I kid you not.

In college what kept me up at night was that I would die before I saw all the places I wanted to see.

I read about the food in Ethiopia, the languages spoken in Lithuania, the safety situation in Niger, and my mind’s wheels are always spinning, thinking of the best way to get from point A to point B.

Why am I travel-obsessed?

When I first fell in love with travel, it began as an escape. I was trying to run away from myself, but travel can’t always be an escape, because you have to return and what you were running away from will await you.

Now, for me…

1. Travel is the never-ending journey to discovering myself. It provides an ever-changing, expounding vista in which to base my frame of reference to the world.

2. The more I travel, the more I am confident I am living an authentic life. By authentic life, I mean living life the way that I, personally, was meant to live it. This is because I am aware of the many different ways there are to live and I am able to actively choose my way.

3. Travel is like being able to be  a child again.

Every morning you wake up and make new discoveries. You learn how to do things you’ve never done before. The language is a struggle. The cuisine is an adventure. And through it all, there are kind strangers helping you. This vulnerability helps for easy friend-making.

4. Traveling is freedom. I am constrained to no place and no possession. I am open to the wind. I could be speaking a different language, sleeping in a different bed on the opposite side of the world tomorrow at my own whim.

5. To travel is to be reborn. When you travel, you have no history, and in a way, no future. You are forced to live in the present. With no schedule and no concept of time, now becomes the most important time of all.

6. To travel is to learn. I love to read and I love school, but travel, for me, is so much more than either of those. It is to no longer view life through the perspective of another, but to experience the world for yourself. It is the ultimate in an education.

7. To travel is to make history come alive.

8. To travel is to have a global perspective, and not to view life in a certain way only because you were raised in a certain town, in a certain country, in a certain religion, in a certain family, in a certain lifestyle.

9. To travel is to have countless choices be made available to you daily.

10. To travel is to realize the meaninglessness of personal possessions when you live from a suitcase.

11. To travel is an education in minimalism.

12. To travel is to be in constant companionship with your loved one. It is learning how to get along when you’re never apart, when there isn’t so much as a wall between you. It is developing a partnership in all things.

 

13. To travel is to connect oneself to the rest of humanity as you live like others live, where they live.

14. To travel is to be entertained. When you are bored of traveling, then you are bored of the world. To travel is to make even the daily grind, like grocery shopping, an exciting pastime.

15. To travel is to develop compassion and gratitude when you see people from all walks of life.

16. To travel is to laugh at the unexpected, like when you order banku with tilapia and this is what is served.

17. To travel is a lesson in learning to become more open. Open to serendipity, open to surroundings, open to change, open to letting others into your life.

18. To travel is to grow. When life is a permanent journey and the only constant is change, stagnation is not possible. Time is not wasted. Every day has meaning.

19. To travel is to reinforce your faith in the essential goodness of human nature all over the world.

20. To travel is to learn to separate the culture of my religion from the doctrine as I see how it is practiced in other countries.

21. To travel is to gain confidence. This is inevitable when you realize that you could land at any spot in the world on your feet, ready to navigate, to find a place to stay, to get money, to make friends.

22. To travel is to learn patience, to realize that efficiency is not the ultimate goal of life. That there is time enough to live.

23. To travel is to be irresponsible at times, to throw caution to the wind, to accept there is danger even in being at home, so why not live?

24. To travel is to change your personal history. It’s to see your past through different lenses as you realize the benefits and limitations of the culture you were born in.

25. To travel is to see beauty in unexpected places.

26. To travel is to learn to love and to tolerate the wonderful differences of others.

I can’t imagine ever tiring of travel. Traveling is breathing.

It is my passion.

Now here’s where I hope to get feedback…from anyone and everyone reading this…

If you had unlimited money and unlimited time, as did your family, what would you do? Where would you live? How would you spend your time? What would a typical day be like? What would your standard of living be? What would be different than the way life is right now?

Many of you would not become nomads like Jacob and I. So what would you do? What is your passion?

Being able to describe your dream may be the first step to making it a reality.

Have you ever wondered…

Have you ever wondered what it would be like to stay in a hippie village overlooking the sea in a community of Rastafarians?

You have?

Well, I’ll tell you.

It’s called Rising Phoenix Magic Beach Resort and it’s run by a man who renamed himself Phoenix. A short, balding man with knowing blue eyes and a bit of a lisp, who cocks his head when he speaks and who speaks irrhythmically.

When you wake up in the morning, it’s to the sound of waves. Tie-dyed curtains flutter in the breeze.

 

You feel sticky, because it’s hot. There’s a faint drumming. Always drumming. Ghanaians love music. It’s always happy-sounding music.

You open the door to a view of the Gulf of Guinea, with fishing boats as far as the eye can see. You walk past the signs talking about not littering

 

and peace and love. 

 

You order breakfast from the vegetarian restaurant.

Maybe you, like Jacob, prefer plantains (sweet fried bananas) with nuts, called keleweli, served with fresh pineapple juice mixed with ginger (heavy on the ginger). Or maybe, like me, you’ll think the drink tastes like soap.

When breakfast arrives, you go out and sit in a private booth to look out at the sea. It may seem private, but it’s not really, because soon people will come up to talk to you. Most of them will be Rasta.

This means they will have dreadlocks and will be smoking pot. They’ll also probably be dressed in red, green, and black and wear knit caps. They’ll talk about “One Love” and they won’t drink alcohol or eat meat, but they will swear marijuana is good for your health. They’ll sit around all day and play on the drum and smoke. It doesn’t smell bad, actually.

Some evenings, the Rastas gather to sell their wares. Maybe someone will approach you like someone approached me, telling you that not everyone can be a Rasta, you have to be called.

“And you have been called,” he says. “Get dreadlocks, read our holy book, and become one of us.”

I notice a white girl with dreadlocks at that point and I don’t think they look very good.

I ask one of them, “Could I become Rasta without having to smoke marijuana?”

His eyes grow big.

“Why do you have to put down marijuana? Would you tell me not to eat an orange? This is natural. Just try it, once. Then you will be able to see Jah (God). These days, governments are trying to tell people it’s bad for the health. It’s not true. It will heal your womb. It will heal your mind. It will heal everything. It will help you to see Jah.”

Late at night, there will be reggae parties. People will gather round, drinking Guiness and doing the reggae dance. The bass will thud in your head until 4 am when the party finally stops. You’ll go to sleep to the sound of the fan above your head, and the waves from the Gulf of Guinea.

And that’s what it’s like to live in a hippie village overlooking the sea in a community of Rastafarians.

Hmmm

I think the girl I just got my nails done with here in Ghana may be a prostitute.

Not sure what to think!?

Is there any reason I should not be friends with a prostitute? I can't think of any.

Prescriptions are not just for medicine

A sort of contrasting viewpoint from some of my other posts…I have to agree with a lot of it. Jacob and I wonder about our classifications of “developing.” Developing towards being like the US? Is that the ultimate goal? It makes me have to decide what is a right for every human. Is food and clean water a right? Is a job? Is education? Is a fulfilling relationship? Is literacy? Is health care? Vaccinations? Multivitamins? Birth control? Privacy? Space? Clothing? Shelter? Freedom? Ability to travel? In the US, all of those are a given. But should it be a given for everyone? What do you think? Which of these are rights?

Please comment on your perspective. What do you think is our role as Americans? What is the role of the US government?

 This author is a KIVA fellow. So I guess this is another plug for kiva.org.

PS People always greet me with Obruni too.

Blog: Kiva Stories from the Field - 25 October 2010

By: zerrincetin

Obruni (Often yelled, “Ooobrruuuniii”). A word that meant nothing to me just three short months ago. Now, it is a word that induces feelings of happiness, anger, and indifference all at the same time. In Ghana, a foreigner is called obruni. Really, it is more of a greeting than anything. Admittedly, it took me a while to get used to being called obruni.

While my fellowship is providing me with a fantastic opportunity to learn about microfinance, this obruni example illustrates a part of my fellowship that I equally cherish – Living in a country very different than my own. This is pushing me to be open-minded despite how strange circumstances might seem at times. This openness, in turn, is pushing me to think about things that I had never thought about before. I think a recent experience illustrates this nicely. A very interesting question was posed to me by a Ghanaian. “Do you think my country will ever reach your country?”

This is a challenging question to answer. One that I had to think about carefully before attempting to do so. Where I land on this issue, and similar issues for that matter, is that Ghana shouldn’t be striving to reach my country (Canada, but I think “your country” in this question means any Western country). What is there to reach for? What works well in North America will not necessarily work in Ghana. What works in Ghana will not necessarily work in North America. The standards, ideals, and cultures are different. They’re not better or worse in one place versus the other. They are just different. So why this constant reaching for more?

In so many parts of the world, the Western world is idealized to be a place where there is no hardship, poverty, or conflict. This is not an accurate depiction. It is all relative. Hardship, poverty, and conflict just present themselves in different ways in the West. We tend to categorize the unknown in one of two ways – we either view it as anxiety-inducing/bad or romanticize about the possibilities that it brings. This romanticized view of the West is what I often encounter in Ghana.

I struggle with this view, because I don’t think the life in the West is necessarily better. It’s just different. Things work differently. There are different rules and expectations. There are different cultural values. This romanticized view brings on another struggle for me. From what I observe (And keep in mind that it is a limited 3-month observation), this view of the West as being better is the driving force behind a lot of development work. Undertaking development projects will make countries like Ghana “better”. By definition, if a country is categorized as “developing”, shouldn’t they then be striving to become better in order to be “developed”?

But better according to whom? Certainly better according to our Western values and ideals. But are all of these projects in line with local people’s values and ideals? Do they even care if they have a new school or a new water well or [fill in the blank with project name]? According to their views of the world, will these local people actually be better off as a result of the development projects?

I was told a story of a development project in a remote village. This village did not have its own water pump and the women had to walk two hours just to fetch the water they need. This is absurd! Two hours just to get water? That’s a full-length Blockbuster production. Funding approved, a group of volunteers built a new well in this village. Now, the village women could get the clean water they need much more efficiently. Job well done! Right?

Are these villagers actually better off as a result of this new well? Did they even care about this well to begin with? Well, turns out, the well went unused. The two hours that the women spent getting water was a time to themselves. It was a very social time for them to catch up with one another and a time where they didn’t have to worry about cooking, cleaning, children, etc. According to our Western values, you should avoid wasting time at all costs. However, in other cultures being social and interacting with each other is much more important. I witness this in Ghana all the time. People genuinely take the time to engage with one another. In North America, however, we are often too busy to even respond to a two-line e-mail.

What I want to demonstrate with this story is that sometimes, with projects like this, the funders bring their own ideals and values to a foreign environment. They then prescribe a new reality for the local people to adopt. While I’m sure that this project was well intentioned, the funders’ values of efficiency did not necessarily translate to the realities of this village. I think what’s critical in our interactions with people of other cultures is approaching them with openness and being sensitive not to prescribe our values that might be very different than their own.

The question of whether Ghana will ever reach Canada has taught me two very important lessons. One is that I want to be involved with work that does not prescribe values to the recipients of this work. For this reason, I am proud to be volunteering for Kiva. From what I observe, the loans empower borrowers to make their own decisions without making any prescriptions. Second, whenever I feel culture-shocked or confused, I take a bit of comfort in the sheer fact that sometimes things are just different in Ghana. They are not better or worse, but just different. While this may be more evident while traveling and experiencing new cultures, I think there is room to apply this lesson in my day-to-day when I return to Canada. And I look forward to trying.

Am I high-maintenance?

West Africa has caused me to want to ask this question. I don’t usually think of myself as high-maintenance. After all, we have ants in our toothbrushes here, cold showers, a bucket for laundry, and no AC and I don’t even mind.

But West Africa is not an easy place to live—maybe it’s the accumulation of it all.

The endless streams of men who want you to come to their shop at the cultural center and buy their artwork.

The way things close without notice, like the gym.

The lack of infrastructure.

The lack of anything to do, really.

The muggy heat—no stores to buy snacks—running out of gum. No place to buy contact solution.

Don’t get me wrong; I like it here. The people are so kind.

But the pace is what really has me shaking my head. People here are soooo slow. Really laughingly slow. If you order a simple meal at a restaurant, it may take 2 hours. If you ask for your change, you may be told “We are too busy. Come back later” as they slowly shuffle around, 3 workers for one customer. If someone is blocking their way, they wait patiently for the other person to move instead of walking around them. Ordering fast food at the mall took 45 minutes. What a slow, slow way of life. If I’d come straight from America, the land of efficiency, I’d probably have a heart attack. As it is, I’ve learned to savor the slow moments in life, but this… life here is S.L.O.W. Peaceful, and slow.

“Don’t Worry, Be Happy”