Too comfortable. ¿Es posible?

That's my room on the 2nd story.
That's my hooping deck up top. 

Something about my plan to study Spanish in Guatemala just wasn't sitting right with me. Even though my flight was purchased and my school chosen, I had some major hesitations about going there.  Then one morning last month I immediately knew that instead of Guatemala, I should go to the Mexican state of Guanajuato. Same initial sound; same syllable count; different country. After a few conversations and coincidences, I narrowed my plan to the colonial town of San Miguel de Allende, which is beyond beautiful and far fancier than I had expected. It's somewhat of an upscale utopian society...filled with bright colors, blooming flowers, yoga studios, boutique hotels, expensive restaurants, Buddhist ex-pats, poetry readings, and artists of all kinds. It's a Disneyland for American hippies in their sixties and seventies. I keep seeing women who remind me of myself in thirty years...wearing long skirts, comfortable sandals, folkart purses and handcrafted jewelry. It's kind of freaking me out.

I don't regret choosing to come to San Miguel, but I am feeling slightly disappointed about being in such an Americanized town. (There's even a Starbucks here!!!!) Someone reminded me last night, though, that these next two months are what I make of it. I can choose to stay in my comfort zone by hanging out at the ex-pat places, speaking in English and floating on the surface of this town...or I can choose to dive deeper into immersion. We tend to gravitate toward what feels familiar and it's up to me whether or not I leave that safety net. Only time will tell. 

Sunset from a fancy deck at a fancy home with fancy people while eating fancy cheese.

Guinness on St Patrick's Day with Connie

On my first day here I somehow got completely lost while walking around town and consequently will never again underestimate the importance of a map. Since then, I've gotten the lay of the land and now have the basics: the market, the bank, the post office, the bar. Speaking of bars, my trip to this town's only Irish pub on St. Patrick's Day turned out to be very strange (in a bad way), so my classmate took me to her favorite hangout spot, La Adelita, which has now become a favorite of mine too. Coincidentally, this bar has a taco shop right next door that serves food reminiscent of late night TJ street vendors. Delicious & cheap.

And they get a day off from school for this!

Connie & I convinced our Spanish teachers to take us to see the primavera parade, which is a way to welcome springtime with all the preschoolers in town. It's quite a big deal. The parade is also a way to spread the importance of needing clean drinking water and protecting the environment (through the use of fairytale costumes?). This was 1) a reminder for me not to drink the water here and 2) shocking that even the residents can't drink their own water. How horrible! Not only is buying bottled water expensive, but this must also be creating an insane amount of trash!


I met a local couple yesterday who suggested that I attend the Gran Charreada today. Trusting their advice, I found my way to the rodeo arena just outside of town. I couldn't believe that with all the thousands of tourists in San Miguel, I'm the only one that went to the event this afternoon! I loved being surrounded by so many vaqueros and also enjoyed the fancy horse tricks, but wasn't so into the lassoing, kicking and tail pulling. In fact, I found it all a little disturbing. I know that when immersed in other cultures, one should lose a sense of judgement when it comes to differences. However, animal cruelty shouldn't be tolerated anywhere. The part that saddened me the most was the "steer tailing," which is when the horse rider (charro) chases a steer and then yanks the steer's tail, wraps it around his boot and knocks the animal into the ground.  A few of these steers couldn't move afterward. They did similar things to horses, but used ropes to lasso either the front or hind legs so that the horse loses its balance and crashes to the ground. The show could have been just as exciting and entertaining without the unnecessary cruelty and it bothered me that I was a participant in it all...especially when an animal made eye contact with me in a moment of pain (at least it did in my mind).

OK, I get it. You're manly. 

The chalk lines are muy importante! 

Cutest charro

example of steer tailing (before)

It couldn't stand up (after)

Lago di Tahoe

Stratosphere

down the street from my sister's new place

Mr. Perfect

my other Mr. Perfect

what we'll do to get vino

xoxo

Extreme sledding

Girl Power!
(putting on her chains for the first time)

Waiting & Watching & Shivering

Happiness

My father is obsessed with a tiny town in the Mantua region of northern Italy. It's actually more like a neighborhood...a little bend in the road that one can easily miss while driving past it. Olfino has become part of his identity...making its way to his license placard, his email address, the walls of his apartment, and his license plate frame (“Happiness can be found in Olfino”). I joke around with my siblings about our father’s obsession with this little place over 6,000 miles away from us, but now I get it….because I too am starting to develop a major crush on this town, its residents and its way of life.

My great grandpa Mario left Olfino in the early 1900's, changed his name from Stefanoni to Stephens and created a new life for himself here in the USA. He stayed connected with his family & friends in Italy and continued to sporadically visit his birthplace over the years, as did some of my other relatives.  But that was it….until ten years ago when my father decided to return to Olfino after decades of minimal contact.  Since then he’s visited at least biannually, reconnecting with distant relatives and forming friendships with other Olfino families. The first two times I went with him were wonderful, but the language barrier and unfamiliarity made things kind of awkward. This last time, though, was totally different. I felt oddly at home.


The catalyst for this short trip was to attend the baptism of Rebecca, the cutest baby in Olfino. Her family runs Ristorante Olfino, which is below where my great-grandfather would stay when he'd visit. The baptism took place in a beautiful, chilly, baroque church and the reception was held at a local restaurant over many, many courses of yummy food.

The hamlet of Borghetto, part of Valeggio sul Mincio (close to Olfino)

My dad with the Stefanoni girls

Gianmarco, the future of Olfino 
& artist extraordinaire

Rebecca, Princess of Olfino

Two of my favorite people, Alberto and his mother, Eugenia

Visconti Bridge in Valeggio

Federica's lasagna al radicchio rosso -
intense & delicate & amazing

Everyone knows that the food in Italy is incredible...but did you know that the tortellini of Valeggio sul Mincio is the most famous & delicious in the world? That sauce just acts as a compliment to the pasta because noodles themselves are so incredibly perfect? That Rita makes a penne arrabiata that makes me cry tears of delight? That if the funghi gnocchi in this picture was the last meal of my life, I'd die happy? I've been back in the USA for a day and all I can think about is returning to Italy. I miss it.

Oh, and by the way, today is my 36^th birthday, which apparently means my skin will start to become thinner, my mid-section will start to become bigger, and my fertility will start to drastically drop.  The deterioration of our bodies as we age is inevitable, but it’s comforting to know we can continually improve upon our inner-aging process...if we choose to do so. I love who I’m becoming, which is the best birthday present ever!

My medieval birthday in Washington, D.C.

Independence

Central Park after a snowstorm

Surprise, surprise...spending time in NYC was the best thing I could’ve done for myself. It gave me a chance to get over the post-Africa anticlimax and it got me back on track for the second half of my year off. Now I'm ready to move forward and plan my next great adventure. 

I loved exploring the city and was in awe of all it offers. Especially the food...

Alidoro – simple Italian sandwiches with the best ingredients imaginable – freshly baked bread from Brooklyn and mozzarella that melts in your mouth. Expensive, but sooooo worth it. The woman behind the counter is a little mean, but the Italian sandwich maker totally balances her out. 

My good friend Deb and her husband brought me to a hidden treasure in Greenwich Village: an exclusive restaurant that was once Aaron Burr’s carriage house. We sat by the fireplace in the bar, sipped champagne, and pretended to be NYC elites. 

I would move to NYC just for the miso ramen at Rai Rai Ken. The flavors are so intense and I could create perfectly balanced spoonfuls for the entire bowl.  Shredded chicken is used instead of pork...and it didn't have any weird seafood surprises like the other ramen houses.  It was, by far, my favorite food find of the city. 

Please go there if you're in NYC. Do it for me. 

The experience of B & H Dairy is unlike any other place I've eaten. From the moment I sat at the counter, I felt like I was a part of their little community. I served food to the people seated behind me. I talked to the owner about his world of soups. And the cashier/assistant cook became my BFF for about 15 minutes. 

   

I had my first borsht experience at Veselka, which will forever hold a special place in my heart. 

My father took the train up from DC to spend an afternoon in the city with me. In anticipation of our upcoming trip to Italy, I brought him to Eataly, a huge Italian food emporium that opened last year by some famous chefs. It's pretty amazing and does make you feel like you're in Italy, but in the most crowded & touristy part (picture the Vatican on Easter Sunday). It's definitely overpriced and kind of ridiculous, but where else can you find amazing Italian cheeses, meats, pastries, coffee, bread, chocolate, fresh pasta, wine & gelato all under one roof?

Kilmat was across the street from where I stayed in the East Village and I was told it was known for its hot wine. I scoffed at the idea of heated wine, but on a snowy evening my curiosity got the best of me. Turns out, hot wine (spiced with cloves, brown sugar & cinnamon) is delicious! 

Mountain Gorillas in the American Museum of Natural History
(I guess this is a good option if you can't go all the way to Rwanda!)

While in Africa, I visited some amazing nonprofits and I wanted to do the same while in NYC…so I reconnected with an old colleague, David Vincent, who now works for The Door, an organization that’s been serving the homeless youth of NYC for almost 40 years. Entering The Door is like walking into a Best Practices R Us store. It has everything: crisis counselors, an array of therapists who specialize in different fields, GED test prep classes, job prep & placement services, music/art/graphic design/photography/dance classes, tutoring & homework assistance, legal services, English classes taught by the #1 ESL teacher in NYC, meals, housing services, medical & dental services...All under one roof! They are opening a charter school later this year named Broome Street Academy! It would be a great model for the future direction of Monarch School, as it expands to serve more students and incorporates more services.  

Deerfield Beach, a three hour flight & 60 degrees away from NYC 

My grandma's brick outside of the Legion

I decided to join the snowbird flock and fly down to Florida to visit my grandmother, aunt and mother, who are currently visiting my grandma’s old stomping grounds.  I’ve landed at the Hampton Gardens Senior Condo complex in Deerfield Beach, which is conveniently located right next to American Legion #162 (my new favorite hangout spot).  This trip is giving my grandmother a chance to spend time with some of her good friends and reconnect with the social scene that was once such a big part of her life. It's also allowing me to meet some fascinating seniors...infatuated lovebirds, survivors of all kinds, and walking history books.  

Reggae Mama is 87 and still going strong (she "comes alive at five"), but needs a lot of support now to do basically everything. When I was younger, I thought of her as the most independent woman I knew. She spent a large part of each year living in Montego Bay and created a whole life for herself in Jamaica that amazed me. She always seemed to have a much more active social life than I ever did...and she's famous for her ability to walk into any scenario and become friends with everyone in the room. It’s difficult to see someone who was so strong and energetic transition into needing so much help – but I guess our independence all comes to an end at some point. I’m letting this trip be a reminder to myself that everything is temporary. I'm feeling very lucky (& independent).

Impulsive Me

“Follow your instinct” always seems to be good advice, but what happens when your instinct turns out to be wrong?  In my case, you end up in New York City by yourself.  Even though I feel crazy for being here, it’s giving me time to reflect, freak out, walk in the snow, cry, think about next steps, have great conversations, explore, eat the best food ever, and rediscover what makes me ME. 

Sometimes we get lost just when we think we’re on the right track.  Kind of like hiking when you realize you’ve missed the trail…Panic sets in..and then, more often than not, you stumble upon something really amazing and beautiful that you wouldn’t have seen otherwise…and then somehow you find the path again. Sometimes getting lost can be the best thing for us because it redirects us in a more focused way.

When I returned from Africa, I felt like I had lost a sense of who I was. I’m not sure why, but my goals seemed to disappear upon my return to San Diego…and I was overwhelmed by the thought of what to do next.  I didn’t feel like the amazing African me…I became mundane me (but with great pictures and cool stories). Africa was over and I needed to decide what to do next, but I couldn’t find the passion to plan my next adventure.  

So what do you do when you lose your passion?  You follow your instinct…to NYC, obviously.  The first few days here absolutely shattered any faith I had in my intuition, but I’m confident that it will all make sense soon enough. In the meantime, I'm listening to Josh Rouse, enjoying the snow, and eating my way through the city...

Japanese Ramen...Incredible.
Minca Ramen Factory

A restaurant that specializes in Mac-n-Cheese!
(almost as good as mine)
S'MAC

Choices

It's Christmas and I'm happy to be with my family, but part of me wishes I was still in Africa. I miss it there. I've shared some of my pictures and told some of my stories, but it all seems so superficial compared to what I actually experienced. I don't know how to explain to my family how this trip to another continent has actually changed me, but I think they can tell I'm a little different...I'm a little happier, a little more appreciative, a little less tolerant of people who complain, a little more loving, and a little less concerned about anything & everything.

In the last couple weeks, I've realized how many choices we have in America. Did you know Trader Joes has about 40 different types of cheese?  I'm in a house with two refrigerators, both packed with food, yet we still can't decide what to eat. And have you been inside a Target? It's truly amazing. I feel so grateful to be in a country with so many privileges, but I'm concerned about what it's done to us. I'm surrounded by kids who have hundreds of toys, but still "need" more...adults who are going into debt to buy the latest and greatest presents for their loved ones...and friends who have arguments about which elementary school to choose for their five year olds. So here I am enjoying a holiday in my most familiar environment, but I can't stop thinking about Christmas in Africa and about what some of my friends there did for the holiday. I'm guessing they went to church. (Hmmmm...there's an idea.) Here are a few people who are most on my mind...

Kassanda & his two boys

The first person I met in Africa became one of my all-time favorite people in the world. Kassanda was the taxi driver who met me at Kilimanjaro Airport the night I arrived and one of the last people I saw before I left Africa. Just thinking of him makes me teary-eyed.

I'm not sure why Joyce liked me right away...maybe it's because I liked her, or maybe it's because we jumped rope together. I don't know...but I do know that I didn't give her a proper goodbye. I told her I'd be back in a few weeks and she had the exact date memorized, but I never returned. I'm sure she's over it, but I can't seem to shake the guilt. If I had one regret on this trip, it's not coming back to see her again. Luckily for me, I captured her superhuman trick on video:

Gerard lost his entire family, except one sister, in the Rwandan genocide. He witnessed unthinkable acts of violence and betrayal against his loved ones. I can't even imagine functioning after what he's experienced, but he seems happy and hopeful and patriotic. He was my personal guide for five days and on day two he became my Rwandan boyfriend (or so it seemed). On day three he asked me to marry him. I tried to explain that my parents wouldn't know what to do with five cows, but his persistence was endearing. Part of me actually considered it (the mentally ill part). He recently sent me an email about a teaching opportunity in his village. Nice to know that's an option.

Babu would kill me if he knew I was using this photo.

I think Babu Bob may have been my father in a past life because I feel a connection with him that is unusually familiar. He has spent the last 17 years trying to help the most needy people in East Africa and has been betrayed time and again by its corrupt and dysfunctional governments. But he's still there! His health has suffered as a result and it's actually a miracle that he's even alive. If the only thing I did in Africa was help him, my trip was totally worth it.

Jackie with her mom

I also keep thinking about Jackie, the 16 year old cook at Orphans of Kilimanjaro. She is such a kind, gentle person, but has the maturity of a ten year old. This is why she's not in school (no such thing as special education where she lives). She's usually very silly and giddy, but she sometimes gets very sad and quiet too...which is why I keep thinking of her. I'm worried about her future and I'm worried about how attached she gets to volunteers who come and go out of her life. Her mother has many other children, so Jackie is pretty much already on her own. I've had friends tell me they expected me to return from Africa with a little adopted baby, but it's someone like Jackie who I really wanted to take home with me.

There is a HUGE difference between life here and life there. I don't know which one is better, but I do know I would like to find some sort of balance between the two....a balance between consumption and sustainability; between comfort and inconvenience; between wants and needs. And even though part of me is still emotionally in Africa, I'm ready to move forward and take what I've learned to change the way I live. I've decided not to return to Monarch when my year's leave is over. I've also decided that going to  Guatemala and hiking Machu Picchu is no longer part of the plan, at least not right now...but I do feel like it's time for something big. I'm trying to listen to my gut and see where it takes me. I'll keep you posted.

Kwaheri

I have mixed feelings about leaving this part of the world knowing that I'll probably never return. I feel sad and tired, embarrassingly privileged, sentimental...and sweaty. I already miss people I've met here and know I'll miss other things too, like sunset soccer games, hearing each morning's call to prayer, cool looking creatures, Tanzanian brews, "hakuna matata" attitudes, dala dala rides, street vendors, unsupervised gangs of children, Swahili Coast dhows, and maybe even instant coffee. But I'm ready to leave and anxious to make some changes in my "real" life.
 

Swahili Coast kids

Centipede? Millipede?

 

Sunset soccer game under Mt. Kilimanjaro

This trip has changed me by helping me realize, more than ever, the importance of kindness, love and living life without fear. Here are some of my (not-so) profound thoughts about the last few months:

Life is much more simple than many of us make it. I think it all comes down to survival and happiness...and it's all relative, of course, depending on where and how you live. Many of us seem brainwashed to think we "need" so much to survive and that we "need" even more to be happy. Survival here is much more raw than it is at home. Many people are struggling to just get the basics: clean water and calories; while folks at home are devastated because their new car got a scratch or their latest computer gadget broke. This is all very obvious, of course, but being here has really put it all into perspective.

There is so much sadness and despair in this world...but the resiliency of the human spirit is mind blowing. I've met people who (by American standards) have no reason to be so damn happy...survivors of mass genocide, AIDS orphans, people who have lost everyone and everything they love. Next time I'm feeling "woe is me" I will think about these people, my inspirations for finding true happiness.

If you live in the United States, you are one hell of a lucky person. This trip has made me realize how easy we have it at home...and even though we complain about our government, politics, education, taxes, medical care, etc...WE HAVE IT MADE.

One more thing, I've been reminded (once again!) of the Earth's beauty. We live on an incredibly diverse and complicated planet with amazing creatures - large and small. Over the last few months, I've snorkeled in protected coral reefs, made eye contact with mountain gorillas in their home, watched hippos mate, and have fallen in love with the fascinating world of birds...but I've also seen pristine land turned into trash fields, natural spring water turned into streams of raw sewage, the raping of our oceans, and endangered species used as hunting practice for the rich. I'm worried about our future, but I've decided not to let my fear control my own future...which I guess is the biggest lesson I learned.

Eco-Tourism at its best

The Silverback who allowed me into his home...the greatest highlight of my trip to East Africa!