Other Questions

Dear friends,

It's been quite a hectic time since Halloween and the double Rob birthday, which was the last time I wrote to all of you, so I am taking advantage of the relative quite when nothing happens and everything is closed on Christmas. I'm not going to talk too much about December in this email, because that would take to long, but if the fates align I will send an email about December in the next few days (or I might just wait until I arrive in Thailand to describe the whole journey).

I did a lot of things during November, which has not been typical during this trip. Usually I've spent more time trying to develop a routine. But somehow because I did so much more, talking about what I did seems duller than normal, so instead this email will be more about what has been going through my head, with stories about what I've been doing used as accompanying examples. I hope you enjoy this reading material during your break, and more than ever, I welcome your thoughts, comments, feedback, and whatever else, both because I want to hear about you, and because neither of the two main themes here are well resolved, or really resolved at all in my head, and I find new ideas good for complicating and growing my own opinions.

Exploring Spirituality, Areté, Quality, Unity, Energies, or Whatever Else You Want to Call It

Naming the Nameless 

In the past few months, more so than ever before, I have been dabbling, learning about, and developing my own thoughts and belief regarding the supernatural, or those things that are not detectable by the five senses or explainable by current scientific method. One of my difficulties has been giving this thing a name. Many people who dabble in such forces do so through organized religions and are therefore happy to refer to these forces as God or gods. My opposition to organized religion and my disdain for the way in which I find the word God to be used on a regular basis means God didn't even make the short list in the title. But I've found that every other word is also loaded in its own way. Spirituality is the broadest term but brings up ideas of voodoo or of actual spirits to most people, and that is far from what I am looking into. The other terms are ones borrowed from various sources that I've encountered the past months and years. Some of my favorites because they are not usually seen in this context are Quality and Arete, borrowed from Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. Quality is tough because it is a commonly used word for something entirely different (or so we think). I was excited about Arete because it is not a common word, so I could ascribe whatever meaning I wanted on to it, use it more as a shorthand than a reference. But when I did some research on the word, the real meaning turned out to be too far from what I was looking to describe. So I will probably jump around and use different words, as one feels more or less suitable to any given sentence.

My Path to Superstition 

I've always had a certain fondness for superstitious beliefs, for the idea that holding certain objects can change an outcome, that things happen for a reason and that the bad is meant to lead me to a greater good later on (or to punish me), and that my mindset can alter the reality in front of me. Even during my most anti-spiritual, scientific oriented years in high schools, I still enjoyed toying with the idea, believing and not believing at the same time. In other words, I was predisposed to develop these ideas further since I was very little. Furthermore, I have been involved in activities and circles that posit that energies can affect outcome for a long time, even if those energies are scientifically based. I have been practicing meditation in some form or another since I was very little, and in all of my leadership work, the central idea always revolved around creating positive attitudes, energies, and atmospheres. We can come up with complicated psychological, sociological, physiological, and chemical reasons why these things may work scientifically, but ultimately the unscientific equation was simple: positive energy creates more positive energy, negative energy creates more negative energy.

Sometime in college, when asked about religious beliefs, I started answering that though organized religions had no appeal to me, I was very open to the idea that there are forces out there beyond our detection through the five senses or scientific instruments. This was already a big leap for me, but very passive. Now we fast forward to this past summer. Before heading out to Kalamazoo I spent a couple of days in Ann Arbor and met up with Camille. Camille and I hardly ever meet, have spent very little time together, but somehow every time I meet her she sets my brain working over time. This time we had a long discussion about this topic of spirituality. The word "unity" in the title is borrowed form her. None of what she said was particularly new to me although it was all framed in a new way. In the end we agreed that we are probably looking at the same thing just from different sides. But she said something during the conversation: once you understand the existence and brilliance of this unity, what could be more important than to explore it further? (not a direct quote). Both that question, and realizing that I was looking at the same thing, opened me up to listening. And I think this was in many ways the most important step because many of the same messages were around me all the time but I just brushed them off instead of really observing them. For example, during my birthright trip one of my friends talked about how much happier she is in a plant filled nature than in the city because the city is full of heartless concrete and in nature she exchanges energy and love with the plants around her. I am fairly certain I used to hear comments like that all the time, but brush them off as metaphorical or silly. But this time I really listened, and really believed.

In Israel I seem to have fallen in with a more spiritual crowd. It started with the Lakatim trip (which you can read about in the last update) which was full of energies which we can't smell or taste, of connection with trees, with people, with a group, and with the planet. More specifically there was one person in the group who I spoke with a lot. She is involved in a movement in called Love Revolution (http://www.loverevolution.co.il/ Hebrew only) that holds that we need to start the fixes for the problem in the world by actively displaying love towards one another. They have a lot of activities, ideas and politics like anywhere else, but the basics and the principles are very lovey-dovey hippie-dippie. I used to listen to people in those spaces purely out of politeness, wait for their out of this world explanations and solutions, and then smile to myself and think something like "they're so cute". But something had shifted and I was open. All of the sudden I was listening earnestly, learning, absorbing. I wouldn't say I agreed with or believed in everything, but I was having a meaningful discussion, or meaningfully learning at the very least. And the amazing thing is, the more open I became, the more I either ran across people and things connected at this different tether, or I started noticing it were I hadn't noticed it before. Suddenly every book I read was about destiny and fate, about controlling your reality with mind and thoughts, making reality with our minds. It seemed like very person I met at a party or every time someone picked me up hitchhiking, they would actually be actively working or studying some branch in this wide amorphous field. And I was gobbling it all up. Perhaps the most meaningful encounter leading me along was one of my couch hosts, Gaya, who is one of those who really lives in this world. She talks about people shaping their reality with their thoughts and about the universe conspiring to bring us where we need to be not as an idea or a theory or a point of exploration, the way I feel about it. For her it is the truth staring at her. But somehow, Gaya is down to earth in many ways, she is connected, and she does not pretend to be enlightened or have the answers, and in that way her ideas are that much more believable. I was able to develop and organize my ideas even more under her guidance.

My Experience with New Forces 

Aside from hearing and learning about these ideas from others, I have begun to experience them on my own in various ways and places in my life. The clearest example is in hitchhiking. Since the Lakatim trip I started hitchhiking all over Israel, and now have been doing my fair share in Europe as well. When I was taught to hitchhike, I was told that it is 99% attitude. You have to feel good in the spot, you have to make a connection with the drivers coming by, you have to be in the right state of mind and connected to the right energies, otherwise it will never work. The results have been impressive and surprising. Every once in a while I'll stand in a spot that looks good, but after a couple of cars go by I'll feel that something is off. For good measure I'll stand there for 10-15 minutes, but no one will pick me up. Once I move to something that feels more right, I get picked up in two to three minutes. And I've been picked up twice now by people who tell me they never pick up hitchhikers. One specifically told me that she has not picked up a hitchhiker in at least 20 years. But apparently she could see my aura and could therefore tell both that I was a good person and that she needed to talk to me. Like any other belief, and especially a non-scientific belief, although we see this in science as well, it's easy for me to give myself the explanations I want for what happened and to remember the near past incorrectly to fit my theories. So maybe it is only after I leave a spot that I realize it felt wrong all along, and maybe it is only after I get picked up that I realize a spot felt very good. With this unmeasurable power and energy, it is easy for me to make myself believe a causal circumstance based on the outcome. But even if this explanation is true, I feel that there is something else at play.

Regardless of the complete Truth of these experiences and forces, they are a lot of fun, and very comforting. It explains in some way the belief in religion, though I find religion too rigid. I enjoy that I have complete control over how I believe these forces interact and don't have to confer with someone else, and even if I do, I have full power to reject their ideas. By more fun, what I mean is that I can weave a full story for myself out of my lucky strikes and misfortunes. If I believe that my attitude and ideas set a destination or a target and that the universe conspires to bring me to the target, I can come up with whole stories for anything that happens to me. So my inability to find a boat could be to avoid a big storm, or to make sure I go a certain route. And my flat tire could be to teach me something about patching for the future, or to make sure my friend's bike will hold up some time in the future when he really needs it. The past month has been a series of one failure and difficulty after the other (I will relate those in the next update). But this new belief makes it easier for me to laugh at the misfortunes and obstacles, learn from them, try to find a silver lining, but most importantly, try to imagine what the universe has in store for me, and when it will come about. Amazing links have already been made in my life through random occurrences. Just as an example, four years ago when I visited Israel, on my way back the airline I was on went on strike during a lay over and I was stuck in the airport in Rome for 2 days. During this time I befriended a woman from Romania, who I will probably visit and spend New Years with this year.

There is still a lot more exploring and development ahead of me, but I would like to end this section with the debate that rages in my head about these new ideas and pulls at different identities within me. My big concern is that these spiritualistic ideas are privileged, or are much more fitting for people in a privileged position, or at the very least that it is inappropriate for people, especially privileged people, to use these ideas when thinking about issues of oppression. Destiny and fate are tricky words because they are often associated with a preordained or unalterable future, but if we think of them simply as words to describe the trajectory and path of an individual's life, those leaning more in the direction of this spirituality I've been discussing would argue that either we are masters of our own destiny and that we can shape or reality entirely with our minds and thoughts, and/or that the universe leads us where we need to go to learn more, the universe being beyond human malleability. Anti-oppression activists, on the other hand, believe in real, albeit somewhat intangible, systems of power that are created by humans and therefore alterable by humans, that guide our path and limit our options along the way. Therefore they see a duty to fight the systems that oppress. In short, the more spiritually focused advocate for work internally and for acceptance of what comes, while anti-oppression activists advocate for work externally and for rejection of societal harms. I don't think anyone exists at a pure extreme on these, but they stand in opposition at their core. My problem is that as much as I like the idea of being able to change the world around us through changing our perceptions, I can't come to terms with the victim blaming it tends to lead to in cases of oppression. For example, one of my friends was talking about how women who suffer domestic violence tend to relapse into abusive relationships because they learn to expect abuse and if one expects abuse one wishes it onto herself. While I think there is some truth in this, and have heard some studies make a similar argument, contending that women who suffer domestic violence often seek out men with abusive tendencies in future relationships, I think there is a fundamental problem with the crux of the argument. The argument implies that if only we could teach women that they don't deserve to be abused or that it is unnatural, then it would stop. In other words, the women are the problem. I cannot accept this implication. positive reinforcement and teaching self appreciation and how to recognize abusive behavior is important. But the problem is a lot of shitty, violent men, who beat women. There may be many ways to address it, but that is the main problem, and it must be recognized and addressed head on as well. I am not willing to accept a theory that can easily slip into arguing that poor people have less because they don't believe they deserve as much or that people of color are discriminated against because they think they are worth less, because I know that isn't true. I know many people who suffer discrimination without believing in any way that they deserve it, and I know that systems of power are at play to insure some suffer while others thrive at their expense. The question I have to work out for myself is how to balance our agency to shape our own individual world and the systems of power that circumscribe our movement.

The Question of Zionism

A Definition of Zionism 

Zionism means many different things to different people. I have heard clear and subtle definitions of Zionism expressed, from Zionist and Anti-Zionist, that range from believing that Jews are better and have an unimpeded right to the whole middle east, to simply expressing a need for action against worldwide Antisemitism. Since all of these definitions are used by large groups of people, I don't think any is false, and I think much of the arguments around Zionism result from mismatching definitions. So before I delve into my thoughts about it I would like to make clear my definition and what I am referring to when I say Zionism. In my definition, Zionism is a movement that recognizes worldwide Antisemitism and see the establishment of a Jewish state somewhere in the world as a necessary and proper tool for fighting Antisemitism.

Influences on My Opinions

Having my origins in Israel means that Zionism has existed with me in some form my whole life. Zionism in Israel, especially for little kids, tends to be presented as an unquestioned good. Until I began to have conflicting influences later in high school, that was the position I held. In my later years of high school and early years of college, as I learned about oppression broadly, and the oppression of Palestinians specifically, I began to question Zionism more and more until I found it very unattractive. I don't know that I ever reached a point during that time when I was clearly opposed to Zionism, but I was close. The I had class with Dr. Elman. I never had a class that specifically addressed Zionism, but since Dr. Elman works predominantly on issues of women's oppression, especially violence against women, and issues of Antisemitism, that issue came up passively in all her classes. Dr. Elman's thought process and political philosophy (as much as I could glean from her classes), is quite unique, and in many cases is more complex, unconventional, and more seriously attacks the root, or is radical, than what any of my anarchist friends propose. But Dr. Elman often made comments in defense of Zionism as a necessary tool to fight global Antisemitism. For me this was reason enough to give pause to my growing disdain of Zionism, but the pause was not long, because in my circles in Boston, Zionism was just a specific form of racism.

Moving forward to when I arrived in Israel at the end of the summer, I was suddenly confronted daily with these thoughts and questions that I would normally only touch on here and there. When I arrived I think the best description of my opinion was that Israel's actions were inexcusable and that a Jewish state in Palestine may not be feasible, but that I still considered myself Zionist in the sense that I believed it was important to have a Jewish state somewhere to deal with Antisemitism. But over the months I I managed to have my ideas completely mixed together so that I am no longer sure what I believe. Conversations with people on my birthright trip, with international activists, with members from Anarchists Against the Wall, who chanted "A solution to racism, opposition to Zionism" on one of the marches I joined them for, all affected me. I also volunteered for a week with the International Solidarity Movement (ISM) where I attended a number of Palestinian Solidarity protests, got shot at by IDF soldiers (I was not hit but my friends were. Rubber bullets but it's still scary and hurts a lot), and had many discussions with international activists there. My final conclusion is that I have no idea what to think, but here is roughly how my thoughts break down.

Idealism, Reality, and Racism

The idealist in me has an easy answer to this question. Zionism, by practically any definition, is a form of nationalism, and the idealist in me opposes all forms of nationalism and the nation-state system in general. Even if I take a step below such an extreme stance, support for a Jewish state means support for a state that by definition favors certain people over others. And that's an idea that an idealist favoring equality really can't support. But while I am currently a big fan of idealism and try to allow myself space to be idealistic (you can see my argument in favor of idealism here http://turtlejourn.blogspot.de/2011_10_01_archive.html), I do mix in some practicality with what I support and don't support.

The practical side says that it's ok to bend ideals to face the fact that we don't live in a utopian word. I may oppose capitalism but I still get jobs and use money, because that's how the world works. Many of the Anti-Zionist activists I know argue against Zionism, among other things, because it is a nationalist movement, but they do not oppose the Palestinian nationalist efforts, black nationalism, or in general, nationalist struggles of the oppressed. The breakdown is roughly like this: In a world where the state is one of the most powerful entities, oppressed communities have a legitimate right to try to access this power. One of the big differences with Zionism is that until a movement based in nationalism of the oppressed succeeds, it is a struggle against oppression, but once it succeeds, it has the power of a nation state, it is no longer a struggle of the oppressed within its protected state, and can easily turn oppressive because it is almost certainly exclusive. And Zionism succeeded in creating a state.

But let me deviate a moment to a more mainstream issue. A state that favors a group of people will be discriminatory to some extent, regardless of how the laws are laid out. And discrimination is always bad, right? Not necessarily. The classical example to dissect discrimination in the US is affirmative action. Affirmative action is a form of discrimination favored by many anti-racism and anti-oppression activist. Let me clarify, discrimination does not equal oppression, and is not reverse racism because racism is a systemic form of oppressing a people. Discrimination is a way of discerning between people and treating them differently as a result. In the case of affirmative action the discerning is based on relative power relations in US society. People who are disenfranchised in society and given fewer opportunities throughout their lives are treated advantageously to try to balance the equation as much as possible. To simply say "all people should be treated the same by government/ universities/ employers" fails to recognize that people are not treated equally by individuals or by society, and that therefore being treated the same is not being treated equally. But affirmative action instills a system that discriminates, and there are unintended consequences of the system. For example, affirmative action currently does not account for sexual orientation or gender identification. Therefore a white person who identifies as LGBTQ or is in some other ways gender nonconforming does not receive any equalizing forces for the discrimination they face. Therefore they may miss placement against someone of color whose oppression is recognized by the system. Despite this imperfection, many anti-oppression activists agree that the corrective force does more good than harm.

The question is whether the same idea could be applied to the Zionist philosophy. I can't find a reasonable justification of the Zionist state in Palestine. The necessary oppression of the Palestinian people there outweighs the possible advantages of protections for Jews against worldwide Antisemitism, at least by my calculus. However, using my definition, that is not really the question. The question goes more like this. If a group of Zionists were able to find a habitable piece of land that is mostly uninhabited, lets say somewhere in the hinterlands of Australia, and were able to strike a deal with those who did still live there that is mutually beneficial, that everyone agreed to and was happy with, that resulted in those people either leaving or staying and agreeing to the system that would be imposed, and in that place they established a Jewish state, would that be a project worthy of support or not? It starts out promising, making every effort to avoid an inevitably oppressive situation. But it still sets up an inherently discriminatory system. but it is set up in defense of an oppressed people.

I don't have a good answer, and the question is not that relevant practically because I don't know of anyone working on this project. But for me the question is important because in order to lead a good discussion or debate I have to have my personal groundwork laid out. Until I have this issue resolved, I will not be able to come out clearly in favor or clearly against Zionism, defined as I have defined it.

Sneak Peak Into Last Month and the Future

I've been spending a lot of time thinking about these things, but I've also continued  to move around. Very briefly, in early December I left Israel and arrived in Istanbul to begin my overland journey to Thailand. Because of various issues along the way, I find myself in Munich today, awaiting my Chinese visa which should arrive in the next two days. From there I will begin a fast pace trip through Russia to Thailand, which I expect to take 2-3 weeks and which should get me to Thailand sometime int the third week of January. I'll be in Thailand and China until May or June, and spend the summer in the US, mostly in Portland with some visits to Michigan. Next fall remains a mystery. I hope to see you along the way.

I hope those of you who had the day off for Jesus's birthday celebrated well, be that skiing, Chinese food, or family and friends.

Challenging Myself

Hello to you all,

Happy Halloween, or to celebrate what I think is the more important holiday, happy birthday Robs Foley and Townsend!

The last month has been a whirlwind mix of settling down and getting unsettled simultaneously. I find myself ever more connected to Tel Aviv, and at the same time I spend less and less time here. There has been a lot of confusion and anxiety, but overall I'm very happy with what I have done and what I have waiting before me.

Battling Expectations
Up until coming to Israel, I have arrived everywhere with pretty much no agenda. My plan was to meet people and explore communities. At the same time I wanted to contribute to the environment around me and improve my language skills if in a non-English speaking country. This could all be accomplished by looking for activities, groups, jobs, etc. that interested me in said city and trying to meet people and connect. I had one track. Israel has posed a different challenge because I had expectations of what I would do here. On the one hand I wanted the same connection with people and communities, but I also want to visit family and friends around the country, I want to volunteer, I want to work, I want to be politically active around Palestine and visit Palestine, and I want to work on my Hebrew in a serious way that simply chatting with people would not offer me. The first difficulty is that I don't have the mental and emotional energy to fit all of that into the short amount of time I have here. Certainly not when added onto basic life needs and finding and exploring all of these directions by myself. The second problem was, if a cool opportunity arose, but it was not in the list, do I go for it or not? For example, I heard about a cool backpacking trip that was highly recommended to me, but that would draw time away from connecting with people in the city, and from working with Palestinian solidarity groups, so should I go or not? I decided to go on that trip (more on that later) but it always had a trade off. I worked like crazy until early October to secure my financial situation, but therefore had no time for anything, and then stopped working to have more time, and therefore I am more concerned about money. Always a trade off. Another learning experience.

Finding a Home in Tel Aviv
In the last few weeks I have been developing and deepening my feeling of connection to Tel Aviv. At the heart of it is the vegan coop or communa near the central station. I stayed at the communa for a week near the beginning of my time in Tel Aviv and was able to build a strong connection with a number of people there but more importantly to the general vibe of the place. It is full of interesting and varied characters who are constantly leaving and communa as new ones arrive: students, musicians, a Russian family, a woman who loves to study all subjects, a passionate and innovative man always working on a new project, a very strange dog, a tiny kitten, artists, and the new member I have yet to meet. Each person has had a lot to teach me and I have had many interesting and enlightening conversations there. But it has also become my home base. Whenever I am sitting around and not sure what to do I just go there to hang out. Sometime I hang out by myself but usually there is at least someone there to talk to or be with. It's also been a fountain of information for me. I go there to ask specific people specific questions that I know they have knowledge about, but I also just go to learn and absorb. I have become a connoisseur of coops during my travels, or at least I like to think of my self as one, and so I enjoy seeing the inner workings of the communa, the good, the bad, and everything in between. Beyond that, I hear people mention events and organizations around the city, and become better connected through their networks. They have provided me with an amazing, inviting, warm place to be and to connect.

But it is not just the communa that has helped me feel at home in Tel Aviv. I've also been particularly fortunate with couchsurfing and other hosts. I may have had one or two that were only good, but for the most part my experiences have ranged from great to spectacular. Feeling comfortable, happy, and connected in the place where I go to sleep and wake up is another way to make me feel like I belong. I've even invited my hosts along to various activities that I go to around the city. Even if they can't come I'm still entertained because couchsurfing hosts always get a kick out of their guests inviting them to something in the city where they live. I realized how many people I had around me on my birthday when I invited everyone I knew in Tel Aviv to the beach and a decent number of people showed up. I had a great time with everybody. And that was a month ago, my community only continues to expand and grow deeper.

Perhaps the most affirming feeling of home comes from riding around the streets, especially after being away from a bit. Coming back from one of the trips I was recently on, I swooped down into south Tel Aviv and felt a weight lift off of my shoulders, I felt a sense of coming back and being comfortable and familiar coursing through me. It's humorous that south Tel Aviv, particularly the area around the central bus station, inspires in me this sense of comfort and belonging. This is perhaps the slummiest area of Tel Aviv, populated almost exclusively by refugees and temporary foreign workers. The area is known for drugs and prostitution. Many people think it's very dangerous, say they wouldn't go here, and certainly not at night. I think that's mostly bullshit, but regardless, as soon as I enter and see all the people, hear the Eritrean and Sudanese music, see all the flashing lights, hear the noises and the languages I don't recognize, smell the garbage, the fumes, the city, I'm mesmerized, enchanted and excited. Tonight, this is home.

Trips Away and Bigger Adventures
I was working non-stop until October 8th, and then I more or less quit, in part so I could take some more trips outside of Tel Aviv. One of the more interesting trips I took was the Lakatim trip. Lakatim means gatherers in Hebrew. The premise of the trip is: a group of people meet at some spot and then travel about in a certain area gathering all of our own food. There are no electronic allowed on the trip. And much of the time is spent in various activities that are meant to connect the group, connect between individuals, or connect us to our surroundings. Others described it simply as learning to open the heart. I'm not suppose to mention too many details so as not to ruin the experience for anyone who might go, but I'll mention a few things and the way they impacted me. The group is very heavy into what I can only term as hippie-dippy language and philosophy. You are welcome to check out their website here https://sites.google.com/site/lakatim1/lakatim. They have all of their information in English although you don't get the full effect without the Hebrew. They do a lot of word play and mix in a lot of female voice in unconventional ways. You can also sign up for updates about upcoming trips on the website. I highly recommend it if you live in Israel or are planning a longish visit. One of the things I really enjoyed was the focus on gender balance and sensitivity in language, in action and in thought. I've been exposed to a lot more latent sexism in Israel than in the circles I spent time in while in Boston, so a place that made a point of using the female voice where not commonly used, and made a point of mocking and flipping gender roles, was welcome and needed. And on the first day the guide ran the best consent workshop I have ever heard of or experienced. And group bonding was spectacular. Completely isolating yourself with a small group for a period of time, especially a group that is predisposed to be open and loving, yields amazing results.

One of my big take aways from the trip came toward the very end, and I've only really begun to understand and process in the last few days, about a week after the trip ended. We had an activity where we described a vision for ourselves, a more tangible target, and then a realizable step that we could take that week in order to move toward our goal. I had a number of things cross my mind, but I settled on what I phrased then as taking more risks and being more adventurous. My step was to hitchhike back from the trip, which ended up being easy because I went all the way with a pro hitchhiker. The more I thought about it though, the more I realized risk and adventure don't properly capture what is going on inside of me. What I want is to challenge myself, to push my comfort zone. I firmly believe that pushing my comfort zone, presenting myself with real challenges, and entering the situation not 100% sure how it'll come out, is the best way to learn and is also the most exhilarating and rewarding way to stimulate myself. If you look back to the first posts, at the beginning of my trip, survival filled that need. Not knowing where I'll sleep next week, always trying to find free food, that was challenging and exciting. Then it was seeking out community and making connections. Than it was trying to make it all work in a foreign country. Then it was traversing massive distances by land. But each time, my comfort zone increased, and that which was exhilarating became normal. I'm no longer too excited by or perturbed by my sleeping or food situation. Even if I don't know where I'll sleep that night I feel very relaxed. I'm less nervous and anxious around new people. Buses seem cozy and inviting. I think I began to get bored with myself because the challenges were no longer challenging. I wasn't pushing myself. My vow to myself is to keep finding ways to do things that make me uncomfortable, to seek out adventure even if it's inconvenient.

I've had a couple of opportunities to do this so far. During my crazy week of work where I did 80 hours in 8 days, my aunt invited me to Friday night dinner. My aunt is an hour and a half bike ride from my work and I had to try to get out of work early, but she wanted it to be a birthday dinner and it was my only opportunity to see so many cousins and their kids at once. At first I insisted I couldn't make it because of work, but as I realized how complicated it would be I got uncontrollably excited and decided that I would make it happen. Making it happen meant working a 15 hour shift on Thursday, working six hours on Friday, riding 28 km (17 miles) eating dinner, waking up at 7am to ride the 28 kms back and make it to work by 9:30, to work another 13.5 hour shift. I was tired but I was in ecstasy. Then, last week I had a plan to bike to Rishon, Rehovot, and then Jerusalem. Rishon and Rehovot were for visits on my list. Jerusalem was to volunteer with a Palestinian solidarity organization. The ride from Rehovot to Jerusalem is about 50 km (30 miles) and the last 20 or so km are all hills. Long somewhat steep hills. People kept psyching me out about the ride, but I was determined. Then the day before I was told the volunteer organization cancelled the tour, but I was going to visit a friend and I was sold on the ride, so I decided to go anyway. I wanted adventure. I left later than I had planned so I was worried about riding in the dark. A bit before hitting the hills, I realized my bike rack had broken, so I tied it but from there on out I had to carry most of my stuff on my back. A little bit later I noticed my rear brakes were rubbing, and while trying to adjust them I figured out the wheel was out of true, and trying to true it I noticed I had a broken spoke. I sat down and laughed for about 10 minutes. I chose adventure so adventure chose me back. I had the phone in my hand ready to call the friends who hosted me who said they could pick me up if I had any problems. Then I thought about my mission to push myself, to have more adventures. I put the phone away, trued the wheel the best I could, and rode the rest of the way in the dark without a front light (dead battery), lots of lighting on the horizon, most of my stuff on my back as my by racked swayed back and forth, and my back wheel danced in the frame. The best part was, I couldn't stop laughing. The best adventures happen not despite but because everything goes wrong. I felt great when I finally arrived in Jerusalem. I'm excited to see what other adventures I'll have the opportunity to embark on. You can look forward to fresh and exciting updates.

Future Plans
My thoughts of maybe going to Thailand have turned into a determination to go to Thailand. Around November 20th I will start looking for a ship to take me to South East Asia, and if I run out of time I will either go to Egypt to keep looking or I will go to Turkey to do the land route, most likely via Georgia, Azerbaijan, Kazakhstan, China, Laos. From there the thought is still to go spend a few months in China and then spend the summer in Portland. So I have no dearth of adventure possibilities ahead of me

I hope you are safe and well and enjoying your own adventures,

A Familiar Foreign Place

Hello beautiful people,

Last time I wrote I was in Boston, days away from leaving and embarking to Israel for my birthright trip and my extended stay in Tel Aviv. Being in Israel has created many interesting situations, conflicts, and challenges, but I think the one that has been most interesting for me is this feeling of being a stranger yet at home. I've had the opportunity to explore this in a number of ways and deal with this somewhat unique circumstance.

Taglit
The birthright program is actually called Taglit-Birthright, Taglit being the Hebrew word for it. I prefer that word because it is less politically charged. The concept of Birthright implies that as a Jew you have a right to visit Israel. I find that idea a little absurd. Taglit means something along the lines of discovery or exploration. In any case, the trip itself was pretty amazing, I admit to my surprise. The purported brainwashing element was pretty weak, and fairly subtle. It mostly consisted of things like taking us to the Holocaust museum Yad Vashem and arguing that Israel needs to exist so that the IDF can prevent a future Holocaust. But for the most part we just toured around and got to hang out with each other, hike around, and learned some ancient history. In my opinion the most important element of the way Taglit shapes the experience is in bringing all of us there and showing us the beautiful and thriving part of Israel and ignoring the ugly and oppressive side that exists in so much of it. Also, the program knows that many groups would be resistant to propaganda being shoved down their throat, and they are not interested in it. Most of what they are interested in is strengthening a bond with Israel through personal experience and personal connections so that when donation time comes around in a few years, various Jewish lobbies will be on our minds.

Part of what allowed the experience to be as tame as it was had to do with the group. The group of people primarily split between those who didn't know much about the situation and therefore were pretty impartial, those who didn't know much and were inclined to be sympathetic to the plight of the Palestinians, and those who were more educated about the situation and were sympathetic to the plight of the Palestinians. As a result, anytime some of the headier rhetoric came up, people mostly scoffed or argued back, and I think that led our guide to tone it down.

Political leanings and rhetoric aside, the trip was a lot of fun. We had a surprisingly amazing group. 39 participants and two American guides. The group was older, most people 25 or 26 and a few 27. Of course it's not possible to be best friends with everybody in a group this large, but there wasn't really anyone who I didn't get along with, a lot of people who I had a good connection with, and a decent number who I had a really great connection with. In the end, that's what really makes a trip like this, the people. Not only is there so much down time and bus time, but even walking around, looking, observing, and experiencing with people making frustrating comments is a painful experience, with people from whom I distance myself is boring, but with people who enhance the experience it makes it that much more entertaining and interesting. We had a fairly wide spread group coming from all over the country and in some cases the world. Most people were undergoing big transitions, starting new jobs, starting a new degree, about to finish a degree, or floating around with a less clear path. It created a supportive atmosphere of mutual appreciation and understanding.

The actual events planned for the trip were also pretty great. The number and extent of the outdoor activities was not thrilling, but enough to give us a break from the city and from ruins. Lots of swimming, sunrise in the desert, a little bit of mountain biking. It was a good mix of things and allowed me to get to know Israel that much better.

One of the most interesting elements was visiting Israel as a tourist and with a big group of folks from the US. In the past, I had always been in Israel with my family, spending most of my time visiting family and friends. Now all of the sudden I was with a massive group of people from the US, many of which had never been to Israel, and all of which viewed Israel as a foreign country. Seeing Israel through their eyes provided a new perspective. I always say that the best way to get to know a place you live in is to take a tourist with you, because they'll point out the things you never thought of. In the same way, my fellow birthright participants would be surprised, entertained, shocked, and impressed by things that seemed normal to me, that had been with me in some way all of my life.

Transitioning Out
The first week after Taglit was a crazy whirlpool of events, adjustments and attempts to settle from an unsettled position. I went to stay with some family who live in a small village only a few km outside of Kfar Saba, which is 20 some km away from Tel Aviv. In Israel terms these are distinct urban areas, but in the US it's about equivalent to the distance from Arlington to Mattapan, from Beaverton to 82nd. I didn't have a bike at first though, which meant I felt a little trapped. The first challenge was dealing with an overwhelming amount of stuff that I felt I had to accomplish in order to get settled: finding a bike, finding a job, finding a community to connect with, joining some sort of activist movement, meeting family and friends around the country etc. I would put in several hours a day and feel like I had more ahead of me when I finished than when I started. Then there were all of the events, planned and unplanned, that crowded things even more. My dad came to Israel for a visit. It was great to see him again. One thing I've started wishing is that I could see everyone in my family more often. As far as settling in, it made things much easier in some ways because he was able to drive me around to get places, but also it was a challenge because I wanted to spend time with him which split up my time even more. And between all of that I was trying to find time to hang out with the Taglit people still in Israel before they all left.

To add to the madness, my grandmother went into the hospital the day after my dad arrived, and I spent most of that day at the hospital. She passed away the next day. A lot of people were coming and making sure I was ok after it happened, where as really it was mostly a good thing. My grandmother was suffering from a number of illness, including Alzheimer's. For over a year now she hasn't really been able to recognize anyone are have any idea what's going on, and for a while now she spent most of her time unconscious, waking up usually only when she was suffering from pain or suffocating because of a breathing complication. It was generally agreed that it was better for her to rest. The funeral that followed was another weird ceremony. This was the third funeral I had ever attended, and though the first one was in Israel, I can't remember it. This one was strange because it collected a small amount of family that I don't know and that my family is not well connected with. No one was really sad. I felt like most people were there out of a sense of duty, some of them family friends who came to comfort and support grieving family members that were non existent because no one was really grieving. Her passing also extended my dad's stay and meant I got to see my uncle for possibly the last time since he is not on the best terms with my family.

On another not so happy note, during this week I also went on a tour with a group called Breaking the Silence. I highly recommend it for anyone visiting Israel. The tour takes you into the West Bank, either into Hebron or the South Hebron Hills, and explains about much of the crazy things that go on there that are difficult to even comprehend, and that are the make up of day to day life for many Palestinians. There wasn't much new information for me, but there were many new specific details, many new ways of piecing together information I already had and the powerful experience of seeing the destruction first hand and hearing about the conditions from Palestinians themselves. I think it is crucial to have these experiences in order to truly understand what is happening in the occupied territories today.

Integrating in Tel Aviv
 The past two weeks or so I've started getting integrated and settled in Tel Aviv. I got a bike and am starting to get to know the city. I managed to get a job at a restaurant at the Tel Aviv port (no longer a functional port, just a tourist area). I make pizza, sauces for pasta, and salads. Finding the job was great. I was very concerned because Tel Aviv is not know as a place where it's easy to find work and I'm staying for such a short time. But since then I've seen help wanted notices on every other food service place. I guess minimum or near minimum wage service jobs are easy to come by. I am now convinced I could have found something else had I not taken this job. The job is for the most part alright. The bosses were kind of assholes at first but I think I have proven myself sufficiently competent that they have started treating me more nicely and with more respect. The coworkers are not the greatest, most of them are in their last year of high school or straight out of high school and I'm getting a little too old to enjoy mingling with the average 17 or 18 year old. My main coworker is a guy from Eritrea. He's alright for the most part, but his Hebrew is a little shoddy so we have a hard time communicating at times and can't really converse. The hardest part is that during this holiday season they are asking me to do a lot of hours, more than 40 a week, and sometimes in 12 hour shifts. Between taking up a lot of my time, it is also exhausting so I've been struggling to accomplish anything else. But on the bright side many hours means more money which will help me balance the negative that I built up re buying stolen items and paying my way to the US from Chile, and even to build up a little bit of funds for my next destination.

I have made some headway in reaching out and meeting people. I found this cool vegan coop that I am staying at right now, and some of the people in it run a bicycle coop-like thing across the street. The main things I need to work on are connections to activism, and on being present and deliberate about spending time with people so I can get to know them and get to know the community.

A challenging element that I've been faced with here and am now trying to find different approaches to is the difficulty of being simultaneously foreign and native. By appearance, I pass for Israeli right away. As for my Hebrew, although I have somewhat of an accent and make weird mistakes, it sounds natural enough that most people assume it's a speaking problem or bad grammar instead of assuming a foreign upbringing until well into a conversation. This creates a lot of weird situation where I talk to someone and they will make a geographical reference, a pop culture reference, a reference to something political, something in the army, some recent historical event, something that any Israeli would know and understand right away, and I just sit there clueless. Or someone might ask me to read or write something not understanding how much more difficult it is for me, how bad the spelling errors in the writing might be, how slow I am at reading. None of it is detrimental, and I am not particularly embarrassed to tell people about my situation, but it creates an awkward disconnect. I am reminded by the movie At First Sight. For those who haven't seen it, the main character is blind since the age of 2 and sometime in his 30s or 40s he undergoes surgery and regains his vision. The problem is he remains functionally blind. He can see objects but doesn't know how to recognize them by sight. He can't read. He doesn't understand the concept of transparent objects like windows. He complains that while he was blind, he didn't have to explain anything, everyone could tell he was blind and although he had to deal with discrimination against the blind, at least all services and interactions accounted for his limited ability. On the other hand, once he regained his vision everyone treats him as a fully capable and able person but he's not quite there. I feel somewhat in the same situation. When I was in Ecuador, Chile, Panama, China, etc. everyone treated me as a foreigner from the minute they saw me. The different treatment often bothered me and frustrated me, but it meant that my needs were generally catered to, and when I took on certain challenges of reading something or got a reference, I was complimented on my abilities. Here I don't get the annoying different treatment that foreigners receive, but I also can't integrate as smoothly as I would like.

In other words, I don't know how to think of myself. How to define myself in this context. I am stuck somewhere in the middle, somewhere between foreigner and local. It will be interesting to see how much this identity will shift and in which directions during my time here.

The Future
 I like to include this part every time so that if any of you will be near by and overlap with me we can make plans to meet up. Currently the thought is to stay in Tel Aviv until the first or second week of November and then to head to a port city and start looking for water passage to South East Asia. I have to leave Israel one way or the other by mid December, so it gives me a month to find my way out to whatever destination I end up at. The hope is that I find something that will take me to South Eat Asia and that from where ever I land I can make my way to Thailand and spend some time there. If that works out, I plan on going up and spending some time in China after, and in all likely hood I will be on the West Coast of the US, mostly in Portland, during the summer of 2013. I hope to see you somewhere along the way.

Much love and good luck with your journeys

Coming Home

Hello friends,

The two months have been full of reuniting with people and places. I returned for a short while to Kalamazoo, and for the last 8 weeks I have been in Boston. After so many months of striking out to new places and focusing on meeting new people, it was interesting to shift gears and spend some time revisiting the past.

Visiting a Place Where I Belong
I arrived in Kalamazoo on the Thursday before graduation. This is a wonderfully hectic and confusing time for everyone. There is a collective joy/ sigh of relief/ desire to sleep and/or get drunk that everyone enjoys together because everyone finished their classes for the year and summer break is upon them. The first-years are excited about their first summer in college, whether it be spending some time back home or some cool internship they lined up. The sophomores are giddy for the upcoming study abroad, or whatever it is they have lined up, and happy to be done with the utter mental and emotional exhaustion that comes with sophomore year for most Kalamazoo College students. Juniors spend their time split between trying to think about their SIP and trying not to think about their SIP. Meanwhile the seniors are excited and terrified of graduation and exit from the bubble into whatever comes next. It is a beautiful, exhausting, emotional roller coaster for all, and I was excited to be there and partake in it for the 5th time.

Despite being excited to be there, I did find myself a little out of place. I did not fit into any of the roles listed above. Walking around the city of Kalamazoo, and especially walking around the campus, I felt such a strong sense of connection and familiarity. Up until a year ago this was my home. I also felt very welcome, I knew a lot of people, I met most with hugs, although some administrators simply gave me a wave from afar. But despite all of that, I still felt like a visitor. The most analogous situation I could think of is visiting your best friend's home. That best friend who gives you an extra key, and you know you are welcome to come and stay at their place indefinitely anytime. It's the closest connection to a place, the closest level of comfort you could possibly have outside of being in your own home, but it's still not quite your own home. That feeling made me realize that I had moved on, that I had changed and that my relationships had changed during my year long absence

The stay itself was wonderful. The only thing I had to do was visit friends, so I had a lot of down time to recharge after my journey up from Panama, and got to spend a lot of time catching up with people. Kalamazoo was probably the best place for me to land and reconnect with the US. It was a great way to get thrown right back into things with lots of love and without being overwhelmed. I was also fortunate enough to spend my whole time there with my wonderful friend Lindsey, who is not only very laid back and one of the easiest hosts to get along with, but was even able to offer me my own room during my stay. After a week and a half, I moved on and headed over east to Boston again.

Repeating a Leg, One Year Later
My journey began with a trip from Kalamazoo to Boston, and about a year later, I was doing the same trip all over again. But so much about this second time was different. A year ago when I left Kalamazoo I was leaving a home of four years, and entering a nebulous and unknown future full of opportunities and excitement. This time I was leaving some place from my past that I was visiting for a week, moving on yet again with and end goal of a place where I had a community already built up. Last time the 24 hours of bus seemed like a long brave journey. This time the 36 hour trip seemed like another short leg in the journey.

The actual experiences were pretty different this time. It started with my ride from Kalamazoo to Ann Arbor. I ended up being able to catch a ride with a rising sophomore who I met through mutual friends. The car ride with Katie was fun and helped me realize both the extent to which I have moved past and grown from being a rising sophomore and 18 or 19 years old, but also how much I can still learn from people and the extent to which I can relate to people who are younger and older than me, and in different places in their lives. I got a wonderful text from Katie the day before we left saying something like "are you in a hurry to get to Ann Arbor? Do you like adventure and feminism?" Who could say no to that? So we took a detour through Lansing to see part of the vagina monologues done on the capital steps as a protest to Michigan legislators getting gagged for using the word vagina. (if you haven't heard about this, you should read about it http://jezebel.com/5918493/

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say-vagina-during-abortion-debate-banned-from-speaking-on-house-floor)

Ann Arbor offered a nice relaxing respite as well. I got to spend a lot of time hanging out with my bouncy friend Emma. And I got to hang out again with my friend Camille. Camille and I have met four times over the past five years, each time for no more than one or two days, and each time under extremely random and coincidental circumstances. But I always have an amazing and enlightening time chatting with her. She always challenges me and pushes me to reflect on my experiences and decisions in a different way. Just as an example, most people who know I have been traveling in Latin America start by asking me "How was Latin America?" to which I usually try to make some smart ass comment like "south of here" or if I am tired I just say "great" because how else do you summarize six months of experience in three countries? Camille, who I hadn't spoken with in two years, started instead by asking me "how did your experience in Latin America change your perception of cultural relativism?" Not an easy question, but one that I can try to give a meaningful answer to.

Finally my megabus adventure over east was full of excitement and mini mishaps. I almost missed my bus out of Ann Arbor and had to flag it down and have it stop for me on the curb. I spent the night sleeping in an Amtrak station in Pittsburgh and got kicked out at 7 am. In New York I met some young guys from Kazakhstan, refrained from mentioning Borat, and helped them get to their destination, somewhere out on the cape where they are doing a work exchange program. Then after sleeping in South Station for two hours I walked the 4-5 miles to the Food Not Bombs house and started my up my life in Boston for a second time.

Falling Into a Pattern

My time in Boston has been relatively uneventful, and in that way it offered a contrasting experience with its own opportunities of reflection. Several hours after arriving in Boston, I started cooking up the Friday Food Not Bombs meal. Some things about FNB hadn't changed at all, while others shifted. Most of the people who came to cook were different. Those who had cooked with me last fall were mostly either out of town or burned out. But the kitchen was still a perfect mess and the vibe of carefree connections and celebration of food was still present in the air. It was interesting for me to see how much I still knew about what was going on at FNB, where everything was in the kitchen, how to plan a meal, etc. It helped me realize just how deep of a connection I had made with the organization back in the fall.

But FNB gave me much more during my time here. As I mentioned, during my time in Boston I fell into a pattern, into a normal routine, which has not been typical of my life this past year. Food not bombs was central in this routine. Every Friday and Sunday was dedicated to the meal, and occasionally other days would include a few hours of clean up and organization. Having this organization, community, and goal as a backbone actually felt really great. I realized that no matter what happened, who showed up to cook, how many dishes with rotting or molding food were left out, or whatever other surprises were thrown at me, I could still love FNB. I have often reflected on the strongest and most meaningful connections that we build up, friendships, religion, romantic relationships, etc. and in my opinion one of the central reasons that these connections are so important to us is because they provide us the opportunity to love unconditionally. A healthy relationship would have your partner, your friend, god, or whatever else, love you back unconditionally, but just the opportunity to love something unconditionally is extremely powerful and not as simple to conjure as we may wish. This is what FNB has provided for me. It is an organization and a community which I can love with the only condition being that it continue to exist in the spirit that defines it.

My other life pattern while here was working a job 20 some hours a week. I can't say that there was any love for that job, but it still made up much of my schedule. I worked for a company called Dash, which does food delivery for restaurants. Someone goes onto the Dash website, looks through the menu of one of 200+ restaurants, and orders food. Dash calls the restaurant to place the order, and then calls me to have it picked up and delivered. There are a bunch of car drivers that do this job and then a lot of us bike riders that deliver as well. The nice parts of the job are that I got to know the roads in different parts of the city a lot better, I got to spend a lot of time outside getting exercise, and when I wasn't busy on an order, making money, I could lounge around outside reading a book, daydreaming, or napping. The bad parts were that some of the people in the company kind of suck, between working this job 20+ hours a week, moving the 300-500 lbs. bike cart for food not bombs, and using my bike to commute for other purposes, my legs were consistently sore, and even though I got to relax when I wasn't getting an order, since I got paid per order, and my pay depended largely on tips, the pay was highly undependable and generally low. I ended up averaging about $7/hour, but I could not count on earning that much. Luckily for me, I was working to make up for bus tickets and  repurchasing stolen items, so while I did not do as well as I had hoped, earning significant amounts of money was not an urgent matter. Some of my friends who work this job suffer much more since they depend on the money for things like rent, food, etc. and then the nerves of possibly not making enough really stink.

Aside from FNB and Dash, I spent most of my time hanging out with friends. Once a week I would do a free bike repair clinic with the Boston Cyclists Union, occasionally I would go to a house show, and I still had to occupy myself with moving from place to place and looking for housing. I went on a few small adventures. There were a couple of trips to the beach. A few days ago I biked out to Walden pond (about 20 miles away) at night with a few friends. We went swimming as it started to drizzle and storm in the distance. We were hoping to camp out there, but as the storm grew closer we packed up and started riding back, getting drenched in the process and occasionally fording 10 inches of water on the trail. But still we had a wonderful time and laughed the whole way.

But over all most days were alike and most weeks were alike. There wasn't much challenge of excitement. Although I had to work to find housing, it was quickly established that I am welcome at the FNB house anytime, so I was never too worried, and a few times I dropped by for a weekend as I was searching for another option. I had a clear, easy, and welcoming home base, something I am not used to. And even when I wasn't staying at the FNB house, I was mostly staying with other friends in the same community or with people who I met along the way. I only couchsurfed twice and both times spent almost no time with my host because I would leave in the morning to do something, and come back only in the evening, spending any free time in between hanging out on the porch of the FNB house. Food was likewise not an issue this time, since summer is the season of plenty for food not bombs and there was still so much random stuff left over from occupy that it was easy to feed myself healthy, albeit unbalanced meals, without ever thinking of buying food. Perhaps the thing that felt least adventurous was that I already had a social community built up. I met many new people, and built up friendships with people who were only acquaintances before, but almost all of the new or revitalized connections were people within the community: new volunteers at FNB, friends of friends, new FNB house members, etc. I arrived settled into a community and my new interactions revolved around that community, as oppose to my experience everywhere else where I look to meet people and to join activities in order to seek out a community for me to plug into. The result is that when I thought about my life, it seemed kind of boring. As one of my friends said when I was talking to her about this: I have been under stimulated here. Which is interesting because all of the activities I do and all of the people I hang out with are pretty awesome when observed individually. But the comfort of my situation means I am not challenged as much. That is not necessarily a bad thing. It's a different phase and manner of living which is also good to explore. I have a deep warm feeling from knowing that I am well enough connected and integrated in Boston so that life here can be easy and boring. One of my friends claimed that there is an entire movement in philosophy that claims the most concrete reality and the most meaningful growth occurs in monotonous routine. Yet despite all these positives, I am on a challenge, change, and stimulation binge right now. I am seeking them hungrily and unapologetically. And for that reason I think it is ultimately in good time that I am about to leave. My roots here are now even deeper, and that makes leaving somewhat harder, but I like to leave when it's still hard for me to do so.

The Future Gets Murkier

Birthright has been on the docket for me since before leaving Kalamazoo. I knew sometime this past spring or this summer I would be headed to Israel and all of my trip plans were structured around that thought. In less than a week I will actually head off on my trip. One of the implications is that the path ahead is more uncertain than ever before.

On Monday I leave Boston for Philadelphia, and on Thursday I leave for Israel. I should be there two or three months. Because of green card restrictions, it would be wise of me to not remain out of the US for over a year, so tentatively I will be on the West Coast of the US sometime late next spring and in the summer. I think it would be cool to visit Thailand and China in the interim. But all of that depends on luck and on what I will bump into along the way.

I hope to see you all somewhere around the world in the near future. All the best,

1/4 Around the World in 50 Days (Jules Verne Has Outdone Me Again)

Hello wonderful people in my life,

A lot has happened since my last update, where I was sitting in Santiago, Chile, ready to embark on a journey northward. Today I sit in Kalamazoo, MI, one day after many of my friends have graduated. But I'll begin where I left off, with my journey through South America.

Buses, Boats, and Losing Things
The first part of my trip up north was not particularly eventful. Going from Santiago to northern Colombia involved seven days and seven nights on buses. In that time I moved over 4,300 miles by bus, spending a total of 130 hours on buses. If you are interested in some of the technical details of the trip, I wrote a long post outlining them for a Thorntree forum: http://www.lonelyplanet.com/thorntree/thread.jspa?threadID=2208289. In this email I'll focus more on the elements that effected me personally.

Getting to northern Chile was easy this time. No uncertain 15 hour layovers in the middle. It may have been the longest continuous bus ride I have ever done in my life (33 hours) but the bus was comfortable so I had no complaints. While crossing from Chile to Peru I had an unpleasant experience. The buses leave from a smaller terminal next door to the big terminal. When I entered, some guys saw me and set up a mini sting operation that resulted in them stealing my messenger bag. Not only was the bag itself pretty nice, I also lost some pretty important things like my computer, my camera (that I had bought three weeks before), and my diary that I had been keeping for two years. The bag was also full of things that weren't as important but just annoying to lose in the middle of the trip (not to mention that a lot of them together add up cost wise). Things like chargers for my phone, my water bottle, toothbrush and toothpaste, first aid kit, my book, and other random stuff. Luckily my passport and other documents always stay close to my body while traveling, so I did not lose those.

My initial reaction was to freak out and yell a little bit. But after 2-3 minutes it became clear that there was nothing to do. I could have gone and filed a report with the police, but I would have had to stay in Arica for a few days and it was almost certain that they would not have found anything, so I decided it wasn't worth the effort. This is the first time I've had to deal with loosing so many important, expensive, and sentimental things at the same time, but I would say that considering the circumstances I handled it pretty well. I quickly started coming up with other paradigms and lenses with which to view it to help me get over it. I thought about how from a spiritual, non-materialist perspective, these material objects were not that important, and losing them like this was a way for me to practice detaching from material things. I had a similar thought from the anti-capitalist, anti-consumerist perspective, but that one is a little skewed because I ended up buying replacements for many of the things I lost, so the loss actually embedded me deeper in consumerism in some ways. Losing all these things made my bag significantly lighter, so that was probably positive for my back. I thought about how my economically privileged position is due to centuries of exploitation by the western countries of, among others, the Latin American region where my things were stolen, so in some way I was participating in a miniscule form of historical reparations. And then, this was just another adventure, another stumbling block in the large journey which I have undertaken. While I still can't decide whether I was adequately convinced by any of these ideas, perhaps the most important one was that to dwell, to feel glum and stupid, was not going to make things any better. Instead I tried to just move on, learn from my mistakes and keep going. On that bus I was sitting next to a woman from France and after about 20 minutes of dwelling, I started chatting with her and was able to laugh and enjoy myself again. During some of the long and lonely bus rides up through Peru I had moments of doubt, where I was wondering what the hell I was doing, why I was taking all this risk to travel by bus, why I was traveling at all. But it was just something I needed to work through, and then I was fine.

Nothing of note happened until I reached Colombia. Busing through Colombia I had a few fun mishaps. The first bus I got on had something akin to a wheel exploding about an hour into the ride, so we had to pull over and get it fixed. But much more entertaining was the bus ride from Cali to Medellin. The night before there was a big storm which apparently created a massive landslide across the roadway. When we arrived, there were miles of buses, trucks, and cars waiting to cross. We arrived at 1pm and apparently the landslide happened at 1am. Traffic still wasn't moving. We drove past several km of vehicles before cutting into the line. I decided to get off and walk ahead to see the landslide. I had to walk roughly an additional 5 km until I got to the scene. I have some pictures, although they are not up because I've only had a computer for two days. The people who have seen the pictures thought I was showing them photos of a small river. This was 13 or 14 hours after the landslide and there were still mountains of sediment on each side and water four or five feet deep where the roadway was suppose to be. The hill above looked barren and some big concrete structure was demolished. There was a large group of spectators and big groups of cyclists and motorcyclists who were trying to cross along the side. A few hours after we had arrived, they finally got the roadway opened, however it still took us two hours to get across, because on both sides, buses, trucks and cars tried to get around each other such that they were sometimes stuck three or even four wide on a two lane highway with no shoulder, a hill on one side, and a drop off on the other. Of course things were just as jammed up on the other side. Somehow the traffic police managed to undo the jumble, but not only did that take a long time, afterward cars could only pass one at a time and very slowly through the landslide site.

Once I arrived in Turbo, Colombia, the place from which I had to abandon traveling by bus and start traveling by boat, things changed quickly. There is something about the boat travel that makes it significantly more social than bus travel. Just showing up and asking about boat times and prices, I befriended a Colombian, Alberto, who was also on his way to Panama. The first part of the first boat trip was wonderful. The sea was calm, the sky was beautiful, and the view was amazing. The boat was a largeish speedboat which sat about 25 of us. We stopped to pick some people up and drop some people off along the way, about 1 hour in, and took a little break. Between the break and Capurgana, the location near the border, things got way worse. First, a torrential downpour began. Everything got completely soaked. My big bag was in a trash bag, but water found it's way in there too. My passport was dripping, and my new camera was completely wet. Perhaps worse than that was that a huge storm broke out. I was on a boat on the open sea during a lightning storm that was as some points less than a mile away. I was terrified of getting hit. And the crazy winds that picked up meant some high waves so that the smooth sailing we had before turned into a roller coaster ride where we would ride up to the top of a wave and then more or less jump off of it, hitting the water with a large thud that would knock me off of my seat. I never felt nauseous, but I got of the boat with soaking wobbly knees. We had to leave Capurgana in the middle of the same storm if we wanted to arrive in Puerto Obaldia, the first location on the Panamanian side, that same day. That boat ride was at least a lot shorter, and because the boat was smaller it did not drop down quite as heavily off the waves.

Puerto Obaldia was an interesting place. It is infamously known amongst those who visit and read forums about it as the place where people get stuck. People get stuck for a few reasons. Most people go there expecting to take a plane to Panama City, because Puerto Obaldia has an airport. However, the airport only serves a tiny airplane that can carry 17 passengers, and has a schedule of 3-4 flights a week. This would not be a problem except that because the plane is so small, it can only fly in and out of the airport in near perfect conditions, and this region is known to be one of the rainiest and stormiest in the world, so it appears more than half of the flights are canceled. As a result there is a constant waiting list of people who are stranded and are waiting for the next plane, so even if you buy a ticket ahead of time and your plane arrives, you are not guaranteed to get on it. Another problem is that between Turbo and Panama City there are no ATMs. Many people go to hang out in Capurgana, then head to Puerto Obaldia and simply don't have the money to get out. I actually met to couple who the compound problem. They were in Capurgana, used up most of their money, arrived in Puerto Obaldia for their flight, and the plane was either full with stranded passengers or it never came. They were stuck in Puerto Obaldia for four days before they could catch a plane, and got down to $0. Luckily there are some fruit trees around and the airline gave them a $10/day stipend at some point. The alternative to flying is taking a lancha (small speed boat for 10-12 people). The operators of Lanchas have a collaborative agreement that no one will charge less than $100 per person for a trip to Carti, the first access point to the Panama roadway system. Puerto Obaldia is pretty, but there is not much to do. The main life revolves around a military base and travelers who are trying to get out. Water and power go out and come back at random intervals.

The positive part of this mess is that it brings people together. Within hours, a group of people looking to take a lancha out of Puerto Obaldia and hopefully pay less for it was formed. We were weird hodgepodge of people from many backgrounds, and generally referred to each other by country, or some other characteristic. There was a young woman from Chile, a guy from the Netherlands (who we called Hollanda), fresh out of high school, two long term vagabond travelers (not exactly traveling like me though, they were more of the juggle for money, sleep on the streets, travel with only a dollar in your pocket variety). One was from Colombia and traveled with a Spanish passport, so we called him España, and the other was from Mexico. Then there was a Rastafarian couple who we just called the Rastas, my friend who I met in Turbo was called Medellin, the city he was from in Colombia, and most people called me by my name, or Portland. building up a big group gave us two big advantages. First we were able to help each other out, guard people's things as we went to wander around, buy food and cook together, collect mangoes for each other, etc. But also, we were able to do some collective bargaining. Lanchas usually leave once they have seven people, so since we had a group of eight, we could offer someone a full trip, if they would take us for cheaper. I was not involved in the haggling process, Chile was the main representative, and others would join her, but eventually we got a lancha for $65 per person. While the plan was to leave in the afternoon, head to the lancha captain's home, spend the night there and leave first thing the next morning, there were some problems with border crossings and high water, so we ended up only leaving the next morning. To save on lodging costs, we spent the night in the place called the casa comunal, which was a tile plaza covered by a leaky roof, with some abandoned office space in the back. Some had hammocks and sleeping bags, others of us just slept on the floor. The nice thing about tropical weather is that with some light covers you don't get cold even sleeping outside on the floor.

The trip to Carti was intense. Luckily the weather was nice the whole time, no rain and not much wind. But the trip takes about nine hours. Also, we had a new member of the group, an English man who was traveling Latin America by motorcycle. His motorcycle came with us on the lancha. The motorcycle went near the back, but was not nearly as heavy as all the people that it displaced, as a result the boat was front heavy, until we readjusted some of the luggage. So for the first few hours we were getting buckets of sea water sprayed in our faces as we were riding. I spent the entire day soaked, and while my bag was better protected this time, my camera, passport, and wallet were soaked again. At least the ride was beautiful. We went though the Kuna Yala (also known as the San Blas) islands, which are beautiful Caribbean islands along Panama's northeastern shore. We actually ended up staying in one of these islands because as we got close to Carti as it was getting dark. We ate giant bowls of rice with some sauce based in fish, not my favorite but the only food I had that day. I slept on the ground again. Also I left my wallet out to dry and someone came in and took $30 out. But overall it was a very interesting experience, the boat ride and the stay on the island.

When we arrived in Carti, everyone was trying to convince us that there were all sorts of exit fees to leave the dock area. Also, The first hour or so of road out of Carti is unpaved, poorly maintained, and steep. So there are no buses, only drivers of SUVs that charge $25 per person. None of us were too keen on the exit fees or on the SUVs. We saw a truck and hoped the driver could give us a lift, but we couldn't find him, so we began walking away, and as we started walking on the road, the truck came our way. We asked the driver if he could give us a lift and he had no problem with it. So we all got in the cargo area of the truck (it was a covered by a thick tarp, so there was still air and light in the back, not a sealed metal container). The ride was bumpy and uncomfortable, but we all got to hang out and chat, and we were all excited about soon arriving in Panama City after such a long and tumultuous journey. Somewhere along the way, the driver stopped and opened the back. We were at a police checkpoint. The police didn't get angry at us or at the driver, but they said we couldn't ride in the truck anymore. Apparently it was a safety concern. But luckily we were close enough that right behind us was a bus that could take us into Panama city for a dollar. The Rasta couple went with an SUV back in Carti, and Medellin, Mexico, and España all got off in different places, but Hollanda, Chile, and I all decided to find a hostel and hang out in Panama together. We spent a few days just relaxing, walking around, chatting, and eating. I went and bought replacements for some of the things that were stolen, and got a cell phone sim card so I could contact my host family from back when I did AMIGOS. After about three days there, we each went our own way, Hollanda went back to The Netherlands, Chile to Bocas del Toro, and I went to Cañazas to visit my host family.

Returning with Different Eyes
For those who don't know, in the summer of 2005 I did an AMIGOS program in Panama, which meant that I spent two months doing volunteer projects in Cañazas. While I had many difficulties and qualms with my experience and my project, I had a wonderful experience with my host family, that I managed to more or less stay in touch with. It was wonderful to see them again, and it was strange to see how much the little kids had grown. My host mom's granddaughter, Ada Iveth, who came to the house every day, was only 5 last time, so much had changed in the seven years. Next door there was a 10 months old baby last time, who was now seven. Just as surprising were the things that hadn't changed. My host mom, her husband, and her sister who also lives with them, look more or less the same and do pretty much the same thing as seven years ago.

It was interesting to interact with various people this time though. First my Spanish was significantly better. I had one conversation with more meaningful content at the end of my stay in 2005. This time I could dive into a conversation with anyone about anything. It allowed me to fill in much of the color of the people and the neighborhood. Also, after living in Germany, China, Ecuador, and Chile, and after graduating from college studying political science, I was much more attentive for all sorts of cues and flags to helps me build a more complete picture of the society I was in. Some of these observations were great. For example, I had a much fuller understanding of how amazingly generous and caring my host family is. There are always tons of people walking in and out of that house, but I was more attentive to who they were, and I was able to ask about them, I gathered that my host family regularly takes people in who need a home or have no where else to go. These could be country kids that need to be close to school, people with certain disabilities that hinder social interaction, or just people who live alone and are lonely. The amount of love streaming from my family toward everyone around them was evident and heartwarming during my stay.

The extent of cultural isolation became ever clearer. When I told people that I had not been baptized, nor had I had first communion, most of them gaped at me in horror. When I told them that I didn't know if I want to get married or have kids, my host mom laughed because she didn't know how else to react. Clearly I came from another planet. I didn't dare tell anyone that I did not believe in god, except for one friend I made who was my age. I can't say she took it well, she spent some time trying to convince me otherwise (including bringing me a scientific argument for the existence of god, something along the line of "human bodies are really complex, and the conditions for life on earth are perfect, just a bit closer or further from the sun and we couldn't exist. Could that be coincidence? No, there must be a God"). But we could have intelligible conversations about it. The little kids I played with once came running up to me and said "Javier said you don't believe in God", "liar, she's the one who said it". Clearly this would have been a serious insult. Another interesting experience was that I was consistently asked, not only by kids but also by adults, if it's true that over there (US) they don't speak Spanish. I always tried to answer this in the complex fashion, answering that there is no official language and that there are neighborhood that are pretty much Spanish only, but that most people speak English, and that most schools are run in English. They were always amazed that most of the TV channels are in English, which I though was funny because they mostly watched US shows dubbed in Spanish.

Unfortunately I also got to see a less pleasant side. Not surprisingly, sexism, racism, and xenophobia is alive everywhere. Understanding more of what people said resulted in picking up on many more intentional and unintentional sexist remarks and picking up on underlying patriarchal ideologies. This was especially true when talking to young men, who I ended up not spending much time with. I had one friend in town from last time who still had some good things to say, but the others seemed to be only capable of saying misogynistic things or ask me how much beer I drink and what type. Occasionally they could also mention something about soccer. You can imagine those conversations didn't go on too long. Racist and xenophobic remarks were thrown around like it was nothing. There is a lot of angst against Asian immigrants (who are all referred to as Chinese there. Most of them to come form China, but not all). There is a belief that they come in, and take all the job and that's why it's harder to find work (I've heard this somewhere before). Comments ranged from the seemingly innocent "isn't it funny how all Chinese people look that same" to the fairly intense "we need a fumigation against the Chinese". I never felt in place to call people out on racist remarks, instead I just did my best to politely disagree and present my perspective.

Being around children and sometime children and their parents was also interesting. I loved seeing how much more natural and easy it was for me to play with kids compared with last time. I think language played a big part. Even though language is not that important for actual playing, it can get kind of difficult when you can't understand what the kids are telling you and when you can't quickly call them over or ask them to stop something. I think I have also become much less uptight. While I learned "fake it till you make it" at outdoor school, outdoor school has strict rules and at the end of the day is highly structured and under control. Trying to play with 10-15 kids ages 4-10 by throwing them around and doing any other crazy thing is always going to result in relative chaos. I think I can handle the chaos better in part because I am more confident and relaxed, but in part also because of my experience on LandSea. The lead from behind strategy on LandSea means that things always lie somewhat outside of my control, it means that there is always a certain level of chaos. The trick is to maintain enough control to prevent chaos from ending in disaster. I don't know what will happen, but I know I can rein it in if it goes in a bad direction. I like to think of this as ordered or controlled chaos. Being ok with ordered chaos allows a whole world of extra flexibility that I never had before.

Playing with the kids was also interesting because I got to see a very different parenting style from the one I am used to. Disciplining in Cañazas, in the poorer and in the more well to do neighborhoods, primarily consisted of yelling "I'm going to hit you" and actually hitting the children. My disciplining style works more along the line of asking questions and waiting. I really like "why did you do that?" "do you think she/he liked that?" "do you think that was a good idea?" etc. The kids were usually very confused by all the questions because that is not what they were used to. I also finally had my proof that hitting kids to discipline them is a bad strategy, in case I still had any doubt. I was hanging out with my four year old neighbor and wasn't doing exactly what she asked me to do, so she elbowed me pretty hard in the arm, which actually hurt. I asked her why she did it and she said it was because I was misbehaving. I asked her why she had to hit me though and she said that's what you're suppose to do when someone misbehaves, that what her mom does to her when she misbehaves. I tried to explain that her mom had a special responsibility for her and that she just can't go hitting anyone because she thinks they misbehaved, but the response sounded hollow. It was clear that the message being engrained at this early developmental age, is that the way to resolve conflict is through physical confrontation, and not through discussion and reflection. And I began to see the impact everywhere around me, it was frightening.

On the town level, it was interesting to note some of the changes. Cañazas was transitioning from big village to small town and struggling with some growing pains. Stores were closing earlier because several had to deal with armed robbery. Someone had been murdered four years ago, so everyone was afraid of walking alone at night. The house I was staying in had a lock on the door instead of a rock to keep the door shut. It was a very different mentality. Also, I don't know if this was because of the season or the global economic crisis, but the food was a lot less natural. Freshly squeezed fruit juice was replaced by Tang. Freshly ground corn tortillas were replaced by store bought preshaped tortillas. We still picked fruit of the tree and ate it, and I ate chickens that were roaming the back yard earlier in the day on a regular basis (I had to eat meat three times a day during my visit in Panama). But the store and its packaged goods became a much bigger part of the diet. The town was also entering the same political struggles communities face around the world. A dam was being built upstream, causing for the river to be at its lowest level in the memory of anyone in town, and causing frequent water and electric outages. There was no real resistance movement, but a lot of sitting and complaining.

It was hard to say goodbye to everyone, but I left promising to come back the next time I could, and trying to imagine what I would find when I returned.

Traveling Through Central America
Before beginning the long bus journey to the US, I headed to San Jose Costa Rica to visit Irene and Jessie, friends from high school that I hadn't seen in three years. On the bus ride up I sat next to someone I had met in the hostel in Panama City. She told me about a cool farmers' market in San Jose that we were able to visit the next day. Irene and Jessie are currently project staff on an AMIGOS project in Costa Rica, so they along with the other staff member had some work to do. I was also pretty tried and getting sick, so we didn't end up doing too much, mostly hanging out and catching up, although we did go to a roller skating rink one evening and had fun cooking at the hostel. But more than anything I enjoyed catching up after being out of touch for so long. I think one of the things I am most proud of is having really cool friends, and Irene and Jessie are a perfect example. they just go from one awesome engagement or adventure to the next. And even though we haven't done a great job of keeping in touch, the connection was still there. Another fun thing I did in San Jose was lose my debit card. Luckily this wasn't so bad because I could pull money out as a cash advance using my credit card, it just felt stupid and meant I ended up with about $10 in fees. I think I left it in an ATM somewhere.

From San Jose I began a straight shot toward Austin, where I had a several day layover before my bus to Kalamazoo. Busing through central America turned out to be way more complicated because buses did not run at night, or even in the evening. In fact, buses stopped running early enough so that they would arrive at their destination no later than early evening. As a result, when I arrived at the border of Nicaragua at 6:30pm, there were no more buses. Luckily I managed to join up with two hippies from Canada who were traveling around selling bracelets, necklaces, and other crafts. None of us wanted to take the absurdly expensive taxis, and they had some experience hitch hiking, so we got a ride with a trucker to the next town over. He was really nice and ended up buying two bracelets from them. From there we caught another truck. They got off mid way to go to Grenada, and I kept going to a town called Leon close to Managua. I had a recommendation for a cheap backpackers' hostel there. I was able to pay because it turns out that in Costa Rica, Nicaragua, and Honduras, even though each has its own currency, you can pay anyone in dollars and often get a better price that way. From there I was a few converted school buses to the border, and a short bus trip got me across the thin stretch of Honduras that lies between Nicaragua and El Salvador. I luckily caught all the last buses to San Salvador. I got there when it was dark and was pretty confused about where to go, but it turned out there was a relatively cheap bus to Guatemala City that left first thing the next morning, and a relatively cheap hotel next to where it leaves from, so I spent the night. During this time I was developing a cold, in part because many of the buses had air conditioning. I got to cross Guatemala City on there Bus Rapid Transit system, which is full of police officers wearing helmets that look like British helmets from colonial times. I had to keep myself from laughing. Then another few hours to the border and I was in Mexico.

Mexico was much easier to handle. The buses were much more expensive, but at least they ran at night. I caught a bus that same evening which arrived in Mexico City the next afternoon, and two hours later I was on a bus headed for Austin. The bus ran a little late, because it got a flat tire on the road and we were held up at the border, but the next evening, I had arrived in Austin. This journey was much shorter than the one in South America, only 3000 miles and 87 hours on buses.

Greyhound Fails AgainMy stay in Austin was fun, but not too exciting. This is mostly due to me being really tired and still being a little sick, so I was not very adventurous. My couch surfing host was awesome and invited me to do things with her, but she had work and other stuff going on. Highlights of my stay included eating delicious texmex tacos, getting a sinus infection for the first time, meeting a student from Spain who does journalism stuff and wrote a blog post about me, meeting up with someone I had met on LandSea four years ago and had not spoken with since then (Facebook never ceases to amaze me), and going to Hippie Hollow, the only clothing optional beach in Texas.

After all that excitement I began heading north. At first I was pretty impressed with the Greyhound buses. The new buses have outlets and wifi and are pretty comfortable. I had four connections on my trip, and in Tulsa, OK, my bus left two hours late and began breaking down along the way. So we were stranded at the Greyhound station in Joplin, MO. They were suppose to send us a new bus in two hours, but instead it took five, so I arrived in St. Louis seven hours after I was suppose to arrive. I was suppose to arrive in Kalamazoo that same day at two in the afternoon, and they told me they could only reroute me so that I would arrive at 10:30 the next morning. In desperation I tried to take a megabus to Chicago so that I could catch a train and arrive that same evening. I had half an hour from when the megabus was suppose to arrive and when the train was suppose to leave. But the way my luck runs, the bus ran into heavy Chicago traffic right on the border of Cook county and arrived fifty minutes late. And of course Amtrak is never late when you want it to be late. It turns out there are no carriers that do a Chicago-Kalamazoo route after 6pm, so I was stuck in Chicago for the night.

I had a few option of where to stay, but they were a friend's mom's house and an friend from high school who I haven't spoken with since the end of high school, plus I didn't feel like running around the city. The train station closed at night, and I could get fully reimbursed for my train ticket, so I decided to head back to Greyhound around the corner and get a ticket for the first bus in the morning, which I could get as a trade for my missed tickets from St. Louis to Kalamazoo. The Greyhound station is open all night for ticketed passengers, but one is not allowed to lie down. I kept looking for different places where the security guard wouldn't see me, because my sinus infection was causing my whole face to hurt and laying down and closing my eyes made it better, but I got woken up every half an hour. It reminded me of security chasing me around Hicks in the morning because they didn't want me sleeping there as people were coming in.

Then I finally arrived in Kalamazoo and the long journey a quarter way around the world was over. This has already been a long update, so I'll talk about my experiences in Kalamazoo in the next one.

Looking to the Future
I have about another week in Kalamazoo and then I am headed to Boston where I will be spending my summer. In late August I fly to Israel and I hope to spend a few months there. From there I have all sorts of plans and ideas, but no concrete plans.

Best of luck to you in whatever you are doing, and I hope to see you soon