This is an aimless blog that gives voices to small joys, quirky happenstances, everyday occurrences, and occasional pesterings as the author navigates her life paths as an educator, transplanted Wyomingite, traveler, and curiosity seeker.
As I savor the last morsels of turkey and stuffing leftovers, I am also savoring the spirit of my favorite holiday as it passes once again this year. A running theme of this blog is how busy things get and how urgent life can seem -- these are also common themes of life, I suppose. I tend to fixate on what isn't rather than what is (there isn't enough time, money, appreciation, vacation, chocolate, hugs...), getting caught in the mire of my own naval grazing. This year, Thanksgiving reminded me to look up and around me and to appreciate what there is. Although my heart would have liked to have been at home with my family for the holiday--I cannot even remember the last Thanksgiving feast that I ate surrounded by my beautiful family--it was equally settled here in my home.
This year there were several activities tugging at my heart and soothing me into a sense of thankful belonging... Here I declare some of those to you, as a sign of appreciation and foundation for a holiday season spent focusing on what matters.
- I was fortunate enough to attend a performance of the Nutcracker Ballet at the Kennedy Center. Beautiful atmosphere, charming story, and gorgeous dancing.
- I was fortunate enough to be called a teacher (yes, really!) and work in a job that challenges and stretches my intellect and my humanity. I am surrounded by the inspiration of learning and the possibilities of what can be.
- It was in my good fortunate to help deliver meals to those who are homebound on Thanksgiving morning. I am thankful that I am so mobile and grateful that I could put my legs to good service and cheer.
- I am lucky enough to live in a city where it rains but where the skies also shine brightly.
- I prepared my first stuffed turkey successfully and shared the abundant fixings with a motley crew of vagabond city folks who brought their own dishes and cheer to the table. We were truly blessed with full bellies and warm hearts.
- Our holidays were enriched with fiery flaming drinks, quirky German movies, and lots of strategic (or not-so-strategic as the case may be) board games.
- Our guests made our house cozy with their charm, dazzling wit, and willingness to just hang out in pajamas the day after Thanksgiving, eating leftovers and playing board games!
Thanksgiving is such an inclusive holiday and such a beautiful time to set aside for that which is important rather than urgent. I am thankful for so much and hope to share my abundance and joy with those around me in this season of Advent and New Year.
Happy Turkey Day, Folks! Gobble, gobble, gobble.
P.S. I did the appropriate pre- and post- feasting measures. Everything is working out ok. I can still see my toes! (there must be room for more pie...)
Disclaimer: I've been listening to too much Country Western lately.
I'm driving a bit more often in the city this year as I teach night classes at another university one night a week and I have a FREE parking pass on the campus parking lot. Traffic isn't too bad at the hours that I need to go in and back out, and hauling piles of books and materials is easier by car than bike. It's made me think a little bit about whether I bike because it is more efficient, more ecological, or just because I am too cheap to buy the monthly parking permit, but that is another posting entirely.
All of that aside, I have been enjoying listening to the radio while I drive. Diverting from beloved WAMU and NPR, I listen to Country... I crank it up and begin to feel all kinds of out of sorts with my city environs. What is a woman like me doing in a city when what I yearn for is the bright blue skies, crisp air, wind, and openness of the prairie? In all of my acquired worldly urbanness, I wonder if I still have the right to even identify myself with the plating of my car (Yep, still Wyo).
By the time I get to my educated, white-collar environs to work with very earnest and very sophisticated graduate students, I really feel like heading back to Small Town USA, putting on work clothes, finding my dog, and heading out to fix something (what I might fix is more an idea than a plausible reality). I guess that there are a lot of great things about a lot of great places, but at the end of the day, I really do hope that in all honesty and with recognition that I may be labeled as a city-slicker or a poser I can go out with my boots on...
Diagnosis: Bit of homesickness and a little too much Country Treatment: Put those boots back on and hope that you can take the girl out of the Honky Tonk but You Can't Take the Honky Tonk out of the Girl
I experimented with something new last weekend while visiting friends in Michigan... For the first time in my life, I not only ate a plate full of tamales, but I also made them -- from scratch. It was done with good spirit and in the right company, and they turned out just scrumptious (I ate until I could no longer move). What a feat for a handful of gringas!
We explored the terrains of New England and Maine during our honeymoon trip. Camping, biking, hiking, rafting, summer lakeside theatre productions, microbreweries, road trip, rain gear, LL Bean, Cape Cod, lobster, Bigelow mountains, Appalachian trail, audio book, blueberries, quiet, romantic, together...
In August, we flew out to the other Portland in Oregon to attend RPCV friend's wedding and explore the waterfalls, Columbia River Gorge, Mt. St. Helens, the Pacific Coast, and Portland. Gorgeous!
The summer in Washington was hot hot hot and humid humid humid in August. We developed some coping strategies (swimming pool, ventilating the apartment, and hiding in air conditioned spots), but are convinced that there is sufficient reason to vacate the city in the summer for cooler places (such as one of the Portlands) if possible.
Here's a fun picture from a trip the National Zoo this summer where we saw a baby gorilla.
With the onset of the academic year and Uli's return to Estonia, I'm caught in an onslaught of teaching and professional duties that seem to have no end. I'm back to the classroom with joy but adjusting to the new pace of life is rough.
Not to worry -- I haven't abandoned my writing project here. More to come!
I've had some lulls this summer in which for the first time in a while I have had a chance to "while away the hours conferring with the flowers" so to speak. It's been an interesting adjustment to move from fast to slower and to reckon with all of the clicking and clacking going on in my head. One thing that I have mulled over is my own tendency to count down. I don't know when this habit started or why (and I suspect I am not alone in it) but it seems that everything is a measurable moment away... work project end date (1 more day), leaving for Wyoming (2 days), seeing Uli (2 days), guests arriving (10 days), summer festivities (11 days), days left of singledom (12 days), honeymoon (20 days), beginning of school (1.5 months), fall teachers' conference (3 months), Christmas trip to Germany (5.5 months), New Year's in Estonia (6 months)... and there is a never-ending stream of micro- and macro-cosmic events to string along until the point at which I am completely and totally insane.
A great illustration of this mentality happened when I was finishing up my Peace Corps service in Slovakia. As I finished my 27 months in Stara Tura, I was itching to move on from small, isolated village life to the next new step. Pondering the future -- the ability to communicate frequently with family and friends, being able to navigate life in my own language, socializing with other young people -- I itched for getting there. Even though I had mixed feelings about leaving my students and the local friendships made, I focused on the "next" part.
Young Slovak men are obligated to serve in their country's military and most of them serve because they have to not because they want to. It's seen as a sort of inconvenient pit stop along their path to growing up and moving on with their lives. While I was there, I was told that many men buy measuring tapes (the kind that a seamstress uses) and for the last 100 days of their service they cut of a centimeter each day, creating a visual representation of the time until they can return to normal civilian life.
Upon hearing of this custom, I took it on as my own. I hung 100 centimeters in my kitchen and ceremoniously took a bit off each day. At first, it was exciting to realize that I was almost finished with what had been an enlightening and educational time in a small town. Culture shock. Teaching shock. Language shock. I-have-too-much-time-on-my-hands-and-don't-know-what-to-do-with-it shock. I spent days in my room in the dorm talking to no one else but myself, watching movies in Czech, learning to cook soup, taking nature walks with my neighbor Betka, and just figuring out how to get by in a funny place. Don't get me wrong. There were some great moments but even the most enriching experiences can be isolating. Anyway. I took on this system of cutting off centimeters, and my life began to revolve around the next moments and lost focus on the ones that were in the here and now. In retrospect, I am not sure it was a very good system at all.
This summer has been odd in itself for very different reasons. My teaching contract was canceled at the last minute and instead of an overwhelming teaching load with the social life of my students and co-teachers to busy my mind and distract my heart, I was left with an overwhelming and solitary project leading up to the much-anticipated summer events. I don't bemoan the project and am not complaining about the work, but I've had a lot of time alone and a lot of time for thinking. My inclination has been to count everything down, but I begin to doubt the wisdom of this orientation.
When you are getting married, everyone's first question is "how are the plans going"... This innocently starts six months before the event and increases with frequency as the date nears. Uncanny this habit. I haven't been the perkiest of brides, I guess. I just don't know how to mitigate the whole process. The proposition of marrying my best friend is beyond enticing and comforts me with the knowledge that all of those big "what ifs?" will be tackled in good humor and with excellent company. The idea of a wedding with all of the expectations and adornments is also abstractly fun and exciting but it also induces a sort of potent anxiety over doing things right and making everyone happy. You feel from the very first moment that your whole life has been engaged in a countdown to one big day and one big event, and you begin to distractedly lose those small days and small events and small moments that happen in between.
And, this is probably just as it should be, but I've begun to wonder about all of those moments leading up to the Moment. What was I doing 100 days before I left Stara Tura that was somehow shadowed by day 0? What do we do to ourselves when we constantly concentrate and what will be instead of what is? Is it an American thing to be so intent on future happenings at the risk of losing the present? Why is it so hard to sit back and just let things be? Why does it induce so much guilt to just be still in midst of madness?
I have tried some resolutions this summer --
I've read a daily dose of poetry (good for the soul) I've been meeting new people through varieties of outdoor hiking in the area (good for the social) I've been taking in foreign films (good for the mind) I've been working like a banshee trying to finish a colossal work task (good for the pocketbook) I've been biking and running and eating fresh veggies (good for the body)
and I've just been trying to adjust to a bit of limbo and get by and I've realized that counting things down is of no use. I lose sleep over things I can't do and people I can't help and situations I can't change.
So, in a period of my life which is full of countdowns, I am scorning my abilities in simple mathematics and consciously trying to just enjoy today for what it is, yesterday for what it was, and tomorrow for what it will be ... and incoherent rambles for exactly what they are.
"Like people or dogs, each day is unique and has its own personality quirks which can easily be seen if you look closely." ~ Tom Hennen,The Life of a Day
A recent culture experience has me feeling mentally vivacious (also mentally loquacious, if that is possible) and not at all erudite.
I went to a performance of the Tom Stoppard play Arcadia at the Folger Shakespeare Theatre yesterday. After a day of concentrating closely on my computer screen, a total blow-out of my bicycle tire on my commute home, and a rather mundane supper of leftover ham in a stale tortilla (not even as tasty as it might sound, I am afraid), the play was a whoosh of energy and wit. Just exactly what my brain needed.
The play swivels between a garden setting in the early 1800s and modern times. The modern setting is trying to uncover piece by piece what happened centuries ago. As the audience, we are privy to the truth of the earlier situation involving Lord Byron, a crazy family, a tutor, and his precocious tutee, Thomasina. We also get to listen in on the conversations of modern truth-seekers unearthing clues from old books and a gaming log. The dialog of the three-hour piece zips along and moves from philosophy to Latin to mathematics to poetry ... Ashamedly, I am sure that I missed many references, but, nonetheless, I was captivated and enthralled. More than anything, it made me think about education and the kinds of thinking that we dedicate ourselves to in today's real world. It seems to me that there is a value to exploring both classical education and dreamy romanticism.
No pithy synthesis, I am afraid. I just wanted to share my enchantment.
There seems to be a theme this summer... Here are pictures of a hike to Raven's Rock (near Leesburg, VA). Despite pouring rain that had just finished and nearly three hours of traffic to get to the trailhead, we ventured up and out and started our weekend in the most peaceful, natural way. Enjoy!
This last Sunday I spent the day exploring a lesser-known neighborhood of the city. Twice a year, the city hosts a series of walking tours highlighting famous people, geographic locations, architecture, and history (see Cultural Tourism DC for more). I decided it would be interesting to venture out from my northern Virginia home and unearth some stories about a part of the city that I don't know very well. Actually, I have to say that I didn't know it all -- with the exception of my favorite Ethiopian restaurant, Lalibela, that is located in the vicinity. Now, thanks to an expert tour guide, I am a bit more familiar.
Shaw is a neighborhood downtown that is located north of the capital. It spans from K Street to Florida/U Street along 9th and 7th near Howard University and the Convention Center.
The neighborhood is historically black and is full of the ghosts of famous folks such as Duke Ellington, Carter Wooson (father of black history), Langston Hughes, Phillips Randolph, and more. In fact it was named after the Civil War commander of a black infantry. The area witnessed the 1968 riots in DC and has been largely run-down until the last years in which folks have started projects and building campaigns to revive this area of the city.
Highlights, for me, included
seeing the architecture of homes built around the turn of the century
discovering the term "pocket park" for small parks built on empty lots between buildings
the Phyllis Wheatley YWCA (now used as residences for women)
the Howard Theatre where all the important folks used to play (Duke Ellington and later more modern groups such as The Supremes) -- one woman on our walking tour could actually remember her visit to the theatre, which sadly is now abandoned and in serious disrepair
visiting what is now a bar and used to be the Scurlock Studio of photography. Notably, I realized I had already visited Nellie's Sportsbar before and that I had seen a photo exhibit at the National Museum of American History with pictures of the neighborhood and prominent figures all taken by the Scurlock Studio.
All in all, I learned a lot this Sunday out and about. If only all of my wanderings were as educational!
In line with my summer resolutions, I finish this post with a bit of poetry, most appropriately from Langston Hughes.
Who said that resolutions are only for the new year? To keep myself accountable and get your input, I decided to share.
After some reflection, I decided that I don't have enough poetry in my life. I've decided to read a poem a day this summer for personal enlightenment and the pure enjoyment of the written word. Why not start or finish the day with something lyrical?
This morning I read an e. e. cummings poem "since feeling is first" and rather liked it.
...for life's not a paragraph and death i think is no parenthesis...
I've also resolved to watch more foreign and independent films. I checked out "Hawaii, Oslo" from the library and watched this Norwegian film a couple of days ago and rather liked it as well.
As I attempt a more "cultured" perspective, do you have any favorites or suggestions?
Nothing like a quiet, rainy afternoon to catch up on some blogging and sharing. After the chaos of finishing my semester and wedding planning, I have had a hard time lately with the task of settling my heart into the task of reflection. Yesterday primed me for the task as I headed out for a hike in the Shenandoahs and spent the day communing with Mother Nature.
On a whim, I decided to venture out with a local Meetup group for hikers and participate in an organized hike in the Shenandoah National Park. We were in the Skyline Drive area and hiked a loop called Whiteoak/Cedar Run. The trail ran together with running water almost the entire time and was filled with beautiful spots to enjoy rushing waterfalls and bubbling brooks. On the way down, there was a natural water slide on which hikers braver than I could slide into a natural water hole (of sub-freezing temperatures). It was a gorgeous, sunny day and the group I met up with was filled with a bunch of interesting vagabonds who like nature.
The day took me back to times when I more frequently hiked in other areas, bringing sweet memories and smiles to my heart... I remember sunrise hikes with Greta at Outlaw Ranch in the Black Hills during which we cajoled campers into joining us for an early morning hike to the Rock. In fact, I also remember our quest to watch the sun's first light to hit from the top of Harney Peak and finally being gifted with that view after several attempts. ... I remember hiking in Slovakia while I was there -- the Staraturanska Pätdesiat with Katka's family, Javorina with Jarmila and company, school trips to see Orava and other beauties. Those times were some of my best as a PCV. ... I remember my afterwork and weeknd hikes in Missoula when I did a summer program at UM and the solitude of the forest and the breath-taking peaks. ... Unforgettable are hikes taken in Romania, particularly a hike my students took me on near Brasov called the seven ladders. I've never been so frightened in my life as when scaling those ladders clinging to cliffside. I also remember hiking with friends in the Brasov area and being stuck far outside of town without a ride back in... and the gracious arrangement of a ride by a local to get us back to our starting place. ... Slow walks along the Big Sur coastline in Monterey are beautiful memories of sea meeting rocky coast. Conversations with good friends and quiet evening strolls must have been part of how I survived graduate school. ...
Hiking is a beautiful thing for so many reasons. It gets me out in the air to breath the same air as the trees. It teaches me that I too am a part of nature. It slows me down. It puts me in touch with others in a very human, non-digital, and meaningful way. It lets me be who I am and loves me just the same.
Isn't it cool when you realize that your parents are basically awesome people? I am aware that I have a bit of a biased perspective (and, after all, I am admitting to this publicly on my blog so perhaps I am just writing for my audience -- hi, mom and dad!). However, I mean it genuinely. Flying all the way out to Washington from Gillette is no small journey, and I think it is safe to say that there are few commonalities betwixt the two (save that they are in the same country). I mention the distance and differences because I think that part of what makes my parents so cool is seeing them in a new light and an alternative context. Not that they aren't well-traveled and interesting people when I normally see them in Wyoming, but we got to meet each other outside of busy routines, obligations, and habits that bind us in my home nest habitat. We were co-explorers here in the Capitol with plenty of time for ruminating, telling stories, plotting an up-coming wedding, reminiscing, celebrating Easter, and exploration!
Here are some of our greater shared experiences over Easter weekend with Mom and Dad (yee-haw):
I was finally (!) able to use visitors as an excuse to cruise through town on the sight-seeing double decker bus.
My mom got to revisit and retell her past life as a professional working on Capitol Hill.
Spring was in full bloom and the tulips provided a colorful backdrop to our sometimes chilly/rainy outings.
The Uhler family made personal connections to the area when we went for breakfast on Uhler Avenue in Alexandria!
The famed cherry blossoms were largely past their prime, save for these trees located near the parking I artfully obtained near the Lincoln Memorial.
We were co-hosts to an Easter celebration (menu: ham, scalloped potatoes, asparagus, peach cake, salad... yummy!)
All in all, the visit was anything but a loser (love you, Dad!).
I was in Wales for a teaching conference recently and had the most fantastic experiences (beyond the obvious professional development): frolicking in tulips, letting my hair blow in the cool coastal breeze while traveling via water taxi, cheering for Deutschland (even though my heart was with the Welsh underdog but we were sitting crammed amongst German fans and I just didn't think a cheer for the opposition would be appreciated) at a soccer match, deciphering morning television programming for children in Welsh, eating plenty of delicious and very sharp cheddar cheese, reconnecting with my wayfarer former self, gobbling up greasy fish and chips with a pint, and sitting down at a pub to listen to live music and ponder the meaning of life as a language teacher with a superb travel partner and friend.
I saw daffodils on my bike ride to work this morning. Multiple times. They made me smile.
I rode my bike to work this morning.
Yesterday, I rode to Goethe Institute for my German class in shirtsleeves.
I didn't need to wear socks yesterday with my shoes.
The flowering crabs are blooming pink.
Forsythia is blooming yellow along the way.
The weatherman on the radio yesterday actually said something to the effect of "after four days of overcast weather, Washingtonians will finally see the sun." Four days! Ha!
Daylight savings time means that it is light late into the evening.
Feels like spring -- and we have two more days before it officially starts!
Being a nomad is a strange thing. Upon remarking that being back in Tartu during my spring break is a bit like coming home, a friend asked how long I was here (two years). After listening, he remarked that you have to live someplace three years to feel like it is home and at least four years to start making friends. Hmph, I thought. Perhaps that is a rather Estonian perspective. I have not lived anywhere for longer than two years since I was in college, and, amazingly enough, I still have friends. Does such a vagabond lifestyle lead me to have a blase attitude about the development of friendship? Are such ties built during a time abroad so shallow?
There is probably some truth to it. Long-term friendships do not always survive without a physical presence test. True friends are ones that you can pick up with even if you haven't exchanged hundreds of emails or followed Facebook status changes for years, but you do lose something of the everyday developments. I have had great luck lately with finding old friends -- those from my Peace Corps days who have surfaced in Washington, DC, a friend from my New York stint back in 1998-1999, a wonderful Outlaw Ranch friend and college classmate who is going to perform our wedding ceremony, even a high school connection long elapsed but renewed since moving back to the United States. I am not convinced that it really takes four years.
After all, I have been treated to such warm welcomes and wonderful treatment here in Tartu since coming on Saturday. Last night, I met nearly thirty former students in a local coffeehouse (yes, that does make me feel like a good teacher... just the boost I need before heading back to the trenches at home after the break).
It is senseless to deny that coming back to a place where you lived and worked for a couple of years is a bit like coming home. I know the streets and the faces milling around them, but I also have the eerie sense that it isn't my environment any more. Having the experience of revisiting my lovely Peace Corps site in Slovakia, my Mexican home in Guadalajara, my neighborhood in New York City, the town where I went to college in South Dakota, my digs in Romania, and my former home here in Estonia, I can say that it is wonderful to arrive in a place you know, especially places you have recently left. Over time, the ties become harder to maintain, but the personal and emotional memories linger on and on in the fabric of the buildings, streets, and even the weather.
In Tartu, and all of the places where I have planted myself for some time, I do feel a bit like a long-lost stranger coming home. And it feels good to be part of a place again, even as a guest, for just a little while. It's like recovering pieces of myself that I have left behind, holding them up to the light, remembering them, and putting them back in my pocket to take out again later. It's completely lovely!
In the right light, at the right time, everything is extraordinary. ~ Aaron Rose
There is so much about every day that is extraordinary. I thought I would take a minute to celebrate some other bits and pieces of my life and some local tourism. I spent a day this weekend wandering Virginia, DC, Baltimore, and Bethesda. Here are some of my extraordinaries for sharing:
- Apples to Apples with DC swing dancers
- a clean apartment -- what a blessing that there is only one room to scrub!
- a yummy Valentine's Dinner with new and old friends
- a reunion over cups of tea with one of my favorite and coolest former roommates who is visiting DC
- a Saturday afternoon eating Ethiopian food, visiting art museums (great Matisse exhibit!), and wandering in Baltimore with another old friend
- a really pretty (and old) Methodist church in Baltimore that attracted me with its soft green mosaic-like appearance
- a kick-butt 5 mile Monday morning run (kick whose butt, you might ask?) Happy Presidents' Day!
- a newsy chat on the phone with my sister-in-law
- yet another dinner reunion with an old friend, complete with cozy fire and some rousing games of "Battleship" (remember that game?)
A great start ... we'll just hope that the week keeps up with it!
I engaged in some cultural anthropology last weekend... in my own country! The observed culture being that of a campaign and Democratic party event. A generous friend, invited me to accompany her to a rally for a candidate for Virginia State Governor in 2009, Terry McAuliffe, and also to the state fundraiser for the Democratic party, the Jefferson Jackson Dinner. I have never been involved in party politics or a campaign before, and I felt very fortunate to be able to step in the back door and take part in such an intriguing event.
As a guest, I felt a little bit like a poser. Yes, I read the papers. Yes, I care dearly about events in my nation and the world. Yes, I occasionally write a letter to my Congressional Representatives and State Senators. Yes, I have signed petitions. Yes, I am pretty passionate about certain areas of policy such as education, health care, immigration, and foreign policy. Nonetheless, I have not gotten involved in the sense of supporting a party exclusively or making cold calls for a particular candidate.
As I witnessed the conviction of those around me, took part in a rally of supporters for the gubernatorial candidate, listened to a number of impassioned speeches about Virginia's future, and interacted with other attendees, I couldn't help but feel as if this wasn't the place I was called to serve (and a little bit guilty for this very feeling). I was impressed by the die-hard commitments volunteers and staff make to candidates, but I was also taken aback by the whole polished schmooziness of the event. The clean cut faces and suits around me seemed a far cry from the scruffy faces of Peace Corps Volunteers or those working a food line or even those teaching ESL. I recognize that we do need people that care about making change by supporting good men and women for political posts and gathering grassroots energy for changing state and national policy. I am just not sure where exactly I might fit into this picture.
Perhaps part of what keeps me from diving in is a nagging sense of duty and, at the same time, a lack of identity. After over ten years of moving from one place to another, in and out of the country, I have a hard time understanding Virginia's issues and knowing that they affect me. In many ways, I still consider myself more a global citizen (and a bit of a vagabond or wanderer). I probably just need some more time to settle in for this feeling to alter.
As result of the weekend rally and events, I am expected to volunteer in some capacity. Terry seems like a great candidate, and he gave a very exciting speech on Saturday night, but I am still surveying the scene. I guess that is why we have several more months before the primary. You might find me registering voters (this is a civic duty I can put my heart into) but I am not sure I'll be the voice on the other end of the phone bank any time soon. I am just not ready...
That's right. Snow renewal, not removal! I am reveling in the recent changes of weather around here. As school's close, people forget how to drive, and locals complain about defrosting their cars, I feel rejuvenated by the backdrop of white and new way of looking at my neighborhood (it looks so clean!).
Ironically, I began to cover a unit on weather with my students on the first day of snowfall this week, and my students and I discovered a Marcel Proust quotation embedded in our unit:
"A change in the weather is sufficient to recreate the world and ourselves."
Many of my students from Saudi Arabia and the UAE were seeing snow for the first time in their lives and the novelty of the experience was not lost on them at all. I have seen snow my whole life, and I still have chewed on this phrase over the last two days. It is a brilliant way to think about our relationship to weather. (You may remember the gloomier days of dark postings from the Nordic.) What a little bit of sunshine or snow or rain or wind does to change our surroundings from murky to bright, from sublime to treacherous, or from peaceful to agitated. After all, weather shapes our ways of life and our cultures; why would it have any less profound effect on us?
As a person who checks the weather forecast (can I bike to work today or not?) before she even hits snooze in the morning, I can say that the weather shapes my daily life in a very concrete way. These last few snowy days, although not exactly ideal biking weather, have been ideal for crisp, cool re-examination of my surroundings.
Yes, thankfully, winter even comes to Washington for a moment or two now and then.
There is not a better word to describe these last months than this simple and entertaining toy. It is as if I have been a yo yo controlled by the flick of a wrist. Up and down around and out up and in and loop-de-floop walk the dog and around the world... God has taken me on a wild and fabulous ride and it is a story worth telling.
I guess that speaks a bit to the reason why I like to keep this blog. My time in Europe has once again passed, and I'm a bit more settled, so this is not really a travel log. I am not sure it ever really was, actually. I can't say that I am enamored with the idea of publishing the details of my life to the world, so the purpose of this blog is not to gossip. Instead, I have stories that I am bursting to share. I am convinced that we all have stories to tell. I suppose that "there's something way down deep that's eternal about every human being" (Our Town, Thornton Wilder). All of us have stories, and I just want to throw a few of my happenings into the fray. It makes my world seem smaller when I know that I am reaching out to share those stories with those who are precious to me in the many places they call home.
So, let me share a few of my yo yo tricks and adventures from the past couple of months:
Yo Yo Trick: Walk the Dog And walk the dog I did. Home for the first Christmas in over four years, I had a fabulous visit back to Wyoming to see family and the family dog, Skip. Although the wind chill kept us indoors, we were warm and full (of cookies, lefse, turkey, stuffing... mmmm!) and in great company. Pinochle, Settlers, 31, cribbage, and time with the whole family made it just the best White Christmas to be home for.
Yo Yo Trick: Time Warp I greeted 2009 back in Washington and rung in the new year resolved that it was going to be spectacular. So far, I have not been disappointed. From the very beginning when I showed up at a New Year's Eve party to find that the friend who invited me was stuck in transit from Michigan and Uli and I were the strangers at a party full of friendly faces, the new year was an adventure.
Yo Yo Trick: Around the World Visiting from Nordic Estonia, Uli gave me the best present so far in 2009. We've decided to make our global friendship and romance a bit sweeter and have announced our engagement. We are really excited to celebrate this summer with family and friends in Wyoming!
Yo Yo Trick: Reach for the Moon Just after the new year, I snagged some tickets for the revival of West Side Story being done for one month at the National Theater before moving to Broadway. The performance was great in many ways: fabulous dancing scenes, good music, and, a new take on the show, bilingual songs in both English and Spanish. The Argentinian woman playing Maria was spectacular!
Yo Yo Trick: Spirit Bomb Things in my story were going smoothly until I encountered this yo yo trick. Commuting into work by bike (yes, by bike in January) on a crisp sunny day, I was ready to tackle a new semester. After a day of meeting our new students and helping with orientation, I headed out to find a broken U lock in place of my set of snazzy wheels. Indeed, what a bomb. My cool new blue bike from last summer did not last long (even with my excellent dual locking system) under the trusty hand of professional bike thieves. Alas!
Yo Yo Trick: Boingy Boingy Every down has to bounce up though, right? I solved my security issues by purchasing a Dahon folding bike, and I could not be more thrilled with the ride (see demonstration, below). I can now take my bike indoors to store in my office or apartment without worry of bike snatchers!
Yo Yo Trick: Hop the Fence Last weekend, I did just that and hopped down to Colonial Williamsburg for the weekend to meet up with some friends from Farmville. We toured the city, hit a museum, saw a concert celebrating the glass armonica (an instrument invented by Franklin to emulate the sound of playing water glasses!) and caught up over several games, bottles of wine, and cheeses. The friends we met up with are friends from our time in Estonia, and it always surprises me how much of the world really is just beyond our back door. Friendships that can be picked back up easily in new places and times are really precious.
Yo Yo Trick Ferris Wheel Martin Luther King, Jr. Day this year felt almost as exciting as an amusement park ride. Under the direction of the very soulful and inspiring Reverend Nolan, I joined with 170 other voices to be part of the "Let Freedom Ring" choir organized every spring by Georgetown University and the Kennedy Center. This year's program included Nuttin' but Stringz and other artists. The highlight was our choir's soloist -- Ms. Aretha Franklin! The entire performance was stunning from the rocking string players (wow!) to the saxophonist to the energy of the choir for our solo number "Turn You Round" to Aretha's gorgeous voice. The rememberence of Dr. King along with the excitement for the day to follow and the history about to be made was a good warm up for Inauguration Day. (You can watch our performance on The Kennedy Center Millenium Stage).
Yo Yo Trick: Regeneration Just before Christmas I found out that I had been selected through a lottery system to carry the Slovak Flag along with the National Returned Peace Corps Association in the Inauguration Parade!!! I spent January 20 in the middle of it all and in the fascinating company of global and polyglot citizens. We represented the 138 countries and over 200,000 volunteers who have served with the organization since its founding in 1960. Our day was a long one as we met at 7am to clear security and make our way to the Mall and did not finish until almost 8pm that night. The weather was downright chilly but the whole event made me want to alternatively glow and cry. The two biggest highlights were 1) coming into the Mall area by bus around 11am and seeing the crowds extend beyond the Washington Monument and 2) passing by the reviewing stand and seeing the Obamas and Bidens up close. I felt star-struck and enthusiastic about the entire day (and I have a commemorative scarf to treasure!). Indeed, I do hope that we can, Mr. President.
Here's a YouTube video of the folks I spent the day with saying hello in the language of their country of service put together by Peace Corps Connect. I'm in the first ten or so..
Yo Yo Trick: Stop and Go Today, I am yo-yoing back to reality a bit. My better half left me to return to his duties in Estonia, and in these quiet moments I am mulling over this new year and what stories it contains for all of us in the months ahead.
Happy New Year to all of you near and far!
***Disclaimer: the author of this blog has not played with a yo yo for ages, nor can she accomplish the feats of aforementioned tricks. :)
