here's what i did today
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
The sun sets on the open sea I can see from my balcony. I write from Southeast Alaska, a place so pristine and unpopulated I can easily understand its magnetic nature. Those that I surf the seas with are not like Alexander Supertramp, however, they are aboard the Regent Seven Seas Mariner, a luxury, 700 passenger cruise ship. With 500 staff, the staff to passenger ratio is almost 2:1. Living on a cruiseship is an experience unlike any other. Like Catalina island, I am limited as to who I can spend time with and what I can do. Also like Catalina island, the benefits are many, regardless of the limitations. What am I doing here? Well, I’m a naturalist for a youth program. I'm working for Jean-Michel Cousteau's program, Ambassadors of the Environment, to teach little ones (ages 9-17) onboard about Alaskan ecoyststems, the environment, sustainable living, and Alaskan culture, etc. In the meantime, I myself also learn and experience and do all I can to soak it in because I know, the 11 weeks I am to work here will be over far too soon. Last week I saw 9 humpback whales bubble-net feeding (a way they hunt small schools of herring is to, in a group, make a circle and dive underneath the fish and then blow air bubbles- the fish get confused and are trapped, and the whales come out of the water with their mouth open). 
And tonight the whales did not fail to impress one bit either. I get to take advantage of being an "escort" on tours, an amazing job benefit, and it was AMAZING. We saw at least 15 different orcas, or killer whales, and a mama and baby humpback also. The silence that swept over the crowd on the boat was testament to the awe we all felt as we were instantly humbled by these graceful creatures. The humpback even started showing off a little- slapping its fluke and waving its pectoral fin. Sometimes you might see this behavior from humpbacks as they try to “stun” a school of fish and then eat them. With throats only as big as grapefruits, they have developed ways to be successful and survive in feeding. I soak it all in, enjoy these majestic enormous creatures, and hope we all do whatever we can to help these animals continue to not only survive, but thrive. The floating balloons I see on the ferry from Catalina Island are similar to the plastic water bottles I see floating by a whale watching tour boat- in that people created them and tossed them aside. Without a thought to what journey the balloon may encounter later on, how it might end up in the pacific gyre, or in the stomach of an unsuspecting albatross, what we know is that it WILL have an impact. Whether the results of our behavior are right in front of us or not, it IS up to us to protect what we have. I feel a deep connection to these animals, and seeing them in the wild with the opportunity not just to learn but to teach others about their behaviors is one step towards a better future. I am constantly humbled by these animals as I enjoy each moment in Alaska, knowing it will be over far too quickly. There’s no time like the present.And just in case you're wondering, whale's breath does NOT smell good!!! But, I'd happily smell it again, anytime!
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
the more i know, the less i know
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
the more i know, the less i know
Current mood: enthralled
Category: Travel and Places
First some pictures, then some thoughts:
My host mom Vicenta making tortillas:
at the top of nariz del indio hike near san pedro:
Market in Chichicastenango:
Guatemalan BBQ:
Studying spanish on the lake:
At the top of the San Pedro Volcano:
Cliff jumping in San Marcos:
With my spanish teacher, Letty, in traditional dress at school:
Waking up for the sunrise on the last day of a 3 day trek:
Last day of the hike!
So after two and a half weeks of living with a host family and attending language school in ....Guatemala...., it is ever increasingly clear to me both how little I know and how much I want to learn. To see a culture from the inside out, literally from inside the confines of a structure called home to a family of ....Guatemala....’s own, is a very unique experience. It is hard for me to eat a meal now without a homemade tortilla in one hand and a fork in the other while the clap clap clap sound of more tortilla making is in the background. Learning Spanish is a whole other story. I wish I had so much more time than I do- time to let it really sink in, to use all the tenses properly, and to interact with locals in real time and not “speak slowly because she’s a foreigner” time. Time to put words in a sentence in the correct order.
When I started language school my brain was so confused. I kept pronouncing y as the French et (the first language I was exposed to and learned). Then every now and then a German word would creep in too (or even just the German sentence structure with the infinitive at the end of the sentence), clearly because I speak German better than French any day of the week… the process was quicker to learn Spanish because I had learned other languages, but the pronunciation at the beginning was a bit atrocious, and the spelling is still a little more French occasionally than Spanish.
I’ve had some unique opportunities at my school such as a conversation club four nights a week as well as other activities such as cultural movies, trips to neighboring city’s markets, and salsa classes, to name a few. I’ve tried hard to stay out of the travelers’ social group and instead found myself practicing Spanish with locals, once in exchange for a little English practice as well.
My school has classes in the garden by the beautiful ....Lake.. ..Atitlan.... and having a native teacher became more like visiting an old friend for four hours a day- in another language. We laughed so much (once to the point of tears) and got on so well, it was like having another window to the culture, one close to my age and to whom I felt comfortable asking any question- about the Spanish language as well as Guatemalan culture. It was nice to see that the window goes both ways and Letty, my teacher (only 19 years old and an amazing teacher), got to learn a bit about my culture and life as well.
The more I know the less I know, indeed. After being asked about life in the United States, and therefore talking about the so-called “bad” economy in the US right now, (a hot topic back home) to a local in Guatemalan making about 2 dollars an hour, (which is good for here) I can’t help but feel like my worries are so miniscule in comparison to many in the world today. In restaurants or bars, locals don’t tip because they can’t. We, the travelers, are expected to tip.
The cost for tourists for activities or purchases (hiking a volcano or buying a bag, for example) is usually about twice that asked of locals. If spending more on a bag or hiking or jewelry (which is still a steal when compared to prices in the US) means a family gets to eat more for have even just one of the luxuries that are so familiar to me I don’t think of them as luxuries (clean water, clothes, showers, freedom, choice!...) then I don’t mind still paying much less than I would in my country, even if it’s more than the locals pay in this country. It makes me feel bad, makes me want to do more. No need to try my hand at bargaining the cost down. The disparity makes me want to pay for everything for Guatemalans. Makes me want to spend more time with them and UNDERSTAND. From an inside perspective, from another language’s perspective, from MY perspective.
After seeing such disparities, there’s even an almost shameful feeling to be from the ....US.... to me sometimes. The opportunities and the fact that I could come on this trip at all when I’m as broke as the next person shows the discrepancy quite clearly.
The more I know, the less I know.
The more I want to know.
the more i know, the less i know
Current mood: enthralled
Category: Travel and Places
First some pictures, then some thoughts:
My host mom Vicenta making tortillas:
at the top of nariz del indio hike near san pedro:
Market in Chichicastenango:
Guatemalan BBQ:
Studying spanish on the lake:
At the top of the San Pedro Volcano:
Cliff jumping in San Marcos:
With my spanish teacher, Letty, in traditional dress at school:
Waking up for the sunrise on the last day of a 3 day trek:
Last day of the hike!
So after two and a half weeks of living with a host family and attending language school in ....Guatemala...., it is ever increasingly clear to me both how little I know and how much I want to learn. To see a culture from the inside out, literally from inside the confines of a structure called home to a family of ....Guatemala....’s own, is a very unique experience. It is hard for me to eat a meal now without a homemade tortilla in one hand and a fork in the other while the clap clap clap sound of more tortilla making is in the background. Learning Spanish is a whole other story. I wish I had so much more time than I do- time to let it really sink in, to use all the tenses properly, and to interact with locals in real time and not “speak slowly because she’s a foreigner” time. Time to put words in a sentence in the correct order.
When I started language school my brain was so confused. I kept pronouncing y as the French et (the first language I was exposed to and learned). Then every now and then a German word would creep in too (or even just the German sentence structure with the infinitive at the end of the sentence), clearly because I speak German better than French any day of the week… the process was quicker to learn Spanish because I had learned other languages, but the pronunciation at the beginning was a bit atrocious, and the spelling is still a little more French occasionally than Spanish.
I’ve had some unique opportunities at my school such as a conversation club four nights a week as well as other activities such as cultural movies, trips to neighboring city’s markets, and salsa classes, to name a few. I’ve tried hard to stay out of the travelers’ social group and instead found myself practicing Spanish with locals, once in exchange for a little English practice as well.
My school has classes in the garden by the beautiful ....Lake.. ..Atitlan.... and having a native teacher became more like visiting an old friend for four hours a day- in another language. We laughed so much (once to the point of tears) and got on so well, it was like having another window to the culture, one close to my age and to whom I felt comfortable asking any question- about the Spanish language as well as Guatemalan culture. It was nice to see that the window goes both ways and Letty, my teacher (only 19 years old and an amazing teacher), got to learn a bit about my culture and life as well.
The more I know the less I know, indeed. After being asked about life in the United States, and therefore talking about the so-called “bad” economy in the US right now, (a hot topic back home) to a local in Guatemalan making about 2 dollars an hour, (which is good for here) I can’t help but feel like my worries are so miniscule in comparison to many in the world today. In restaurants or bars, locals don’t tip because they can’t. We, the travelers, are expected to tip.
The cost for tourists for activities or purchases (hiking a volcano or buying a bag, for example) is usually about twice that asked of locals. If spending more on a bag or hiking or jewelry (which is still a steal when compared to prices in the US) means a family gets to eat more for have even just one of the luxuries that are so familiar to me I don’t think of them as luxuries (clean water, clothes, showers, freedom, choice!...) then I don’t mind still paying much less than I would in my country, even if it’s more than the locals pay in this country. It makes me feel bad, makes me want to do more. No need to try my hand at bargaining the cost down. The disparity makes me want to pay for everything for Guatemalans. Makes me want to spend more time with them and UNDERSTAND. From an inside perspective, from another language’s perspective, from MY perspective.
After seeing such disparities, there’s even an almost shameful feeling to be from the ....US.... to me sometimes. The opportunities and the fact that I could come on this trip at all when I’m as broke as the next person shows the discrepancy quite clearly.
The more I know, the less I know.
The more I want to know.
Friday, January 16, 2009
the best job in the world?
Here is my attempt at creating the a one- minute video on why I deserve the "best job in the world": 6 months on an island in the Great Barrier Reef writing blogs, making videos, and getting more tourists to come to Queensland, Australia, and getting paid $100,000USD for my time there!! sounds good.
I am happy to say that I edited it completely on my own, and the photos used therein are all mine too!! I'm proud of the product, whether I get the job or not. Here's what I got:
I am happy to say that I edited it completely on my own, and the photos used therein are all mine too!! I'm proud of the product, whether I get the job or not. Here's what I got:
Saturday, January 3, 2009
i like to ride my bicycle
Sunday, January 3, 2009
I want to ride my bicycle
Current mood: accomplished
Category: Sports
Last November, 20 (or 18, or 19 depending on the day) of us (us being the people who work, or have worked, for the Catalina Environmental Leadership Program) started a journey that started in ....San Francisco.... and ended at the Mexican border. The mode of transportation: our bicycles.
The sustainable living bike tour was in its fourth year though it was my first. I borrowed a road bike from my friend Belle who had moved back to England and shortly thereafter realized I had no idea what I was getting myself into. After a day in ....San Francisco.... we started loading our support vehicle and it was time to go. I had, just that morning, returned from my pioneer road bike ride to and from a bicycle shop to get cleats put on my new bike shoes. I had never ridden a road bike, had never “clipped in,” had never so much as changed my own flat tire (though I love riding bikes), and I was determined to hit the ground running, or I guess riding, as the case may be.
There was chaos, as is bound to be with 20 riders, as everyone got ready to take off in never before worn bike clothes for some and fourth year well worn in rags for others. We handed out maps and talked about riding safely. We were instructed to have our cell phone on us and money at all times, both of which were in my bag at the bottom of the pile of luggage. Also, I couldn’t find my helmet. It was supposed to be at the bottom attached to my bag too but when I arrived that night to our destination (after borrowing a helmet for the day), it was nowhere to be found. We would be reunited, however, later in the trip. I was very overwhelmed. We left San Francisco and started towards Point Bonita, a day to practice a few hills and get used to the bike. As we started ascending the hill before the entrance to the Golden Gate Bridge. I realized I didn’t know how to change gears.
Well, I knew how, I just didn’t know which ones I needed to change or why. What became quite clear to me was that either I was way more out of shape than I thought (that marathon in October was insignificant) and would not make it up the miniscule hill, or that I needed to change gears (or more importantly learn which one to change), and fast. Danny rode easily past me struggling and told me to change gears. I told him I didn’t know which one to change and he motioned, using his own bike as a model, where I needed to push. What a difference that made!
The end of the first day- only about 10 or 15 miles, but some hilly ones, felt good. We rode, once again, across the Golden Gate Bridge the next morning and stopped at a school to talk about sustainable living before leaving San Francisco entirely.
That is, however the purpose of the trip! We visit schools and community events to talk about and run programs regarding sustainable living. One school and 25 miles down, we had a long way to go. Fourteen schools and 750 miles, to be exact.
The hilly first day was a great training run. A few days later I would be heading up the Santa Cruz mountains (13 miles of uphill with no give) and then into Big Sur on my bicycle.
Big Sur has steep hills and is a narrow two lane road along beautiful coastline. There is no bike lane and there were a few daunting signs warning us with a jagged line which was supposed to symbolize the road and “next 90 miles” or “next 63 miles” underneath it. ..Big Sur.. was the most breathtaking, challenging, and therefore most rewarding part of the trip. I learned how and why to change my gears pretty quick.
Camping in a different spot every night and putting in mileage on your legs and your bicycle every day can be quite a task.
By the time we reached Santa Barbara a couple days before Thanksgiving I was happy for the respite of staying at Danny’s grandma’s for a few days with just less than half the crew and resting my tired body. Coming into ....Santa Barbara.... was also the first hint of rain we got and that can be disheartening when your mode of transportation is a bicycle. We did a 12 mile ride (took 2 ½ hours, in the rain, because of 8 flats along the way, all because of people from our crew) from Goleta into Santa Barbara with Bici- Centro, a Santa Barbara bicycle organization, and even got to meet with the people in charge of some of Santa Barbara’s environmental initiatives where we saw a “Bikestation” (place to park your bike inside with restrooms, showers, and lockers) with a vending machine with bike gear, gloves, lube, etc, as potential purchases.
We had a Thanksgiving feast in a little park over looking Santa Barbara and when it got colder and darker we went inside for guitars, songs, and games.
Hopping on our bikes the next day with our Thanksgiving feast still digesting felt good. It’s funny when you get to a point where you find out how long you’re riding that day and know exactly what that means, what that might feel like, on your body and your watch. Sixty miles does not mean the same thing on day 12 as 60 miles means on day 4. We kept riding, through Ventura and Malibu (with a quick stop at the sand dunes)
before splitting into 3 different groups for 3 days to tackle Los Angeles. Or divide and conquer, I guess, since that is the area with the most schools to visit.
We reconvened by accident on the side of the road to Carlsbad, where we would all be meeting up anyway, and finished the ride to Carlsbad (somewhat) together. We took the steep hill up to Torry Pines on our way to San Diego and split to spend the night at different homestays of people we know. Though it was nice to sleep indoors, I have to say, I was missing camping.
We woke up in San Diego, reconvened at the ferry terminal to Coronado island to visit Mar Vista, our last school, and then headed straight for the border. We didn’t go into Mexico this year sadly because of the violence that’s been happening down there, but we still spanned over 750 miles in 3 weeks. It was cause for celebration.
for more info, videos, pictures, etc, you can check out the official bike trip blog at: www.sustainablelivingbiketour.blogspot.com
I want to ride my bicycle
Current mood: accomplished
Category: Sports
Last November, 20 (or 18, or 19 depending on the day) of us (us being the people who work, or have worked, for the Catalina Environmental Leadership Program) started a journey that started in ....San Francisco.... and ended at the Mexican border. The mode of transportation: our bicycles.
The sustainable living bike tour was in its fourth year though it was my first. I borrowed a road bike from my friend Belle who had moved back to England and shortly thereafter realized I had no idea what I was getting myself into. After a day in ....San Francisco.... we started loading our support vehicle and it was time to go. I had, just that morning, returned from my pioneer road bike ride to and from a bicycle shop to get cleats put on my new bike shoes. I had never ridden a road bike, had never “clipped in,” had never so much as changed my own flat tire (though I love riding bikes), and I was determined to hit the ground running, or I guess riding, as the case may be.
There was chaos, as is bound to be with 20 riders, as everyone got ready to take off in never before worn bike clothes for some and fourth year well worn in rags for others. We handed out maps and talked about riding safely. We were instructed to have our cell phone on us and money at all times, both of which were in my bag at the bottom of the pile of luggage. Also, I couldn’t find my helmet. It was supposed to be at the bottom attached to my bag too but when I arrived that night to our destination (after borrowing a helmet for the day), it was nowhere to be found. We would be reunited, however, later in the trip. I was very overwhelmed. We left San Francisco and started towards Point Bonita, a day to practice a few hills and get used to the bike. As we started ascending the hill before the entrance to the Golden Gate Bridge. I realized I didn’t know how to change gears.
Well, I knew how, I just didn’t know which ones I needed to change or why. What became quite clear to me was that either I was way more out of shape than I thought (that marathon in October was insignificant) and would not make it up the miniscule hill, or that I needed to change gears (or more importantly learn which one to change), and fast. Danny rode easily past me struggling and told me to change gears. I told him I didn’t know which one to change and he motioned, using his own bike as a model, where I needed to push. What a difference that made!The end of the first day- only about 10 or 15 miles, but some hilly ones, felt good. We rode, once again, across the Golden Gate Bridge the next morning and stopped at a school to talk about sustainable living before leaving San Francisco entirely.
That is, however the purpose of the trip! We visit schools and community events to talk about and run programs regarding sustainable living. One school and 25 miles down, we had a long way to go. Fourteen schools and 750 miles, to be exact. 
The hilly first day was a great training run. A few days later I would be heading up the Santa Cruz mountains (13 miles of uphill with no give) and then into Big Sur on my bicycle.
Big Sur has steep hills and is a narrow two lane road along beautiful coastline. There is no bike lane and there were a few daunting signs warning us with a jagged line which was supposed to symbolize the road and “next 90 miles” or “next 63 miles” underneath it. ..Big Sur.. was the most breathtaking, challenging, and therefore most rewarding part of the trip. I learned how and why to change my gears pretty quick.
Camping in a different spot every night and putting in mileage on your legs and your bicycle every day can be quite a task. 
By the time we reached Santa Barbara a couple days before Thanksgiving I was happy for the respite of staying at Danny’s grandma’s for a few days with just less than half the crew and resting my tired body. Coming into ....Santa Barbara.... was also the first hint of rain we got and that can be disheartening when your mode of transportation is a bicycle. We did a 12 mile ride (took 2 ½ hours, in the rain, because of 8 flats along the way, all because of people from our crew) from Goleta into Santa Barbara with Bici- Centro, a Santa Barbara bicycle organization, and even got to meet with the people in charge of some of Santa Barbara’s environmental initiatives where we saw a “Bikestation” (place to park your bike inside with restrooms, showers, and lockers) with a vending machine with bike gear, gloves, lube, etc, as potential purchases.
We had a Thanksgiving feast in a little park over looking Santa Barbara and when it got colder and darker we went inside for guitars, songs, and games.Hopping on our bikes the next day with our Thanksgiving feast still digesting felt good. It’s funny when you get to a point where you find out how long you’re riding that day and know exactly what that means, what that might feel like, on your body and your watch. Sixty miles does not mean the same thing on day 12 as 60 miles means on day 4. We kept riding, through Ventura and Malibu (with a quick stop at the sand dunes)
before splitting into 3 different groups for 3 days to tackle Los Angeles. Or divide and conquer, I guess, since that is the area with the most schools to visit.
We reconvened by accident on the side of the road to Carlsbad, where we would all be meeting up anyway, and finished the ride to Carlsbad (somewhat) together. We took the steep hill up to Torry Pines on our way to San Diego and split to spend the night at different homestays of people we know. Though it was nice to sleep indoors, I have to say, I was missing camping.
We woke up in San Diego, reconvened at the ferry terminal to Coronado island to visit Mar Vista, our last school, and then headed straight for the border. We didn’t go into Mexico this year sadly because of the violence that’s been happening down there, but we still spanned over 750 miles in 3 weeks. It was cause for celebration.
for more info, videos, pictures, etc, you can check out the official bike trip blog at: www.sustainablelivingbiketour.blogspot.com
it's a wonderful life
Friday, January 23, 2009
it's a wonderful life
Current mood: hopeful
It’s amazing to work in a place where picking trash up off the ground is expected, not alarming. Where I work, live, and play with the same people every day. Where my food is made and I wake up each day with different ways to reach the same kids, or different kids to reach the same ways. Environmental education has taught me a lot. I so value the experience of a 5 mile bike ride on a dirt road into a town where everyone truly knows your name, where all you can find is a dive shop, a restaurant, a visitors center, and a small (not local) grocery store. Riding home in the dark with headlamps on, stars above, and bioluminescence in the water below makes you look at things a little differently. It’s impossible not to.
My time in between the island life- in NYC over the summer and in ....Dallas.... right now- has shown me how much I truly have learned. It has shown me how to integrate my environmental knowledge into a (more) normal lifestyle. Or perhaps just a more ubiquitous lifestyle. Every choice I make has power in it’s potential to make the world a better place or contribute to the environmental mess we’ve created and perpetuated. Every choice is thought out. I like not having the ease of accessibility; it makes it impossible to take things for granted. And even though I’m going into my third season now with the Catalina Environmental Leadership Program, it’s still impossible for me to take the experience of that beautiful place for granted too. Communication is hard and as I ponder going back there soon I’m trying to have all the unlimited internet and cell phone service time I can, before these things too, are limited and therefore valued even more.
Things are not convenient there. I broke my sunglasses halfway through the spring and had nowhere to buy new ones. Luckily, we have a pretty good stash of lost and found at camp, and they were easily replaced. The students come and go each week and sometimes it is a real struggle. There can be a lot of resistance from kids who are not used to being in the middle of nowhere, of doing a solo- hike at night, of hiking up any hills, of using hand- eye coordination to push a kayak forward and having the forethought and the teamwork to do that with a buddy. Perhaps they are not used to doing a night snorkel, to spending time in a garden or a microscope lab, to being out of their comfort zone, or to see that their actions have consequences further reaching then themselves. It’s the tough weeks that challenge me that make me REMEMBER. Remember what it’s like to be out of my comfort zone, to change my style of teaching, and to remember what it’s like to be away from home for the first time, as many of the kids might be.
Being out of our comfort zone is a remarkable way we really get to know ourselves.
I am not done learning.
I’ve had many adventures in the past year:
Camping in isolated spots on Catalina:
Showing my island world to my sister Meredith and her husband Scott:
The ....Chicago.... ..Marathon.. October 12:
Seeing Obama at my Alma Mater in Fort Collins, Colorado October 26th:
Water fun and scuba diving Catalina Island:
Hiking the untouched hills on Catalina:
Seeing friends and riding bikes in Fort Collins.., ..Colorado....:
.JPG)
Seeing two of my brothers get married:
Spending a summer with my sister Morgan near NYC:
Biking across the ..Brooklyn.. bridge:
Learning to work, live, and play with the same 20 people:
Returning home, again:
it's a wonderful life
Current mood: hopeful
It’s amazing to work in a place where picking trash up off the ground is expected, not alarming. Where I work, live, and play with the same people every day. Where my food is made and I wake up each day with different ways to reach the same kids, or different kids to reach the same ways. Environmental education has taught me a lot. I so value the experience of a 5 mile bike ride on a dirt road into a town where everyone truly knows your name, where all you can find is a dive shop, a restaurant, a visitors center, and a small (not local) grocery store. Riding home in the dark with headlamps on, stars above, and bioluminescence in the water below makes you look at things a little differently. It’s impossible not to.
My time in between the island life- in NYC over the summer and in ....Dallas.... right now- has shown me how much I truly have learned. It has shown me how to integrate my environmental knowledge into a (more) normal lifestyle. Or perhaps just a more ubiquitous lifestyle. Every choice I make has power in it’s potential to make the world a better place or contribute to the environmental mess we’ve created and perpetuated. Every choice is thought out. I like not having the ease of accessibility; it makes it impossible to take things for granted. And even though I’m going into my third season now with the Catalina Environmental Leadership Program, it’s still impossible for me to take the experience of that beautiful place for granted too. Communication is hard and as I ponder going back there soon I’m trying to have all the unlimited internet and cell phone service time I can, before these things too, are limited and therefore valued even more.
Things are not convenient there. I broke my sunglasses halfway through the spring and had nowhere to buy new ones. Luckily, we have a pretty good stash of lost and found at camp, and they were easily replaced. The students come and go each week and sometimes it is a real struggle. There can be a lot of resistance from kids who are not used to being in the middle of nowhere, of doing a solo- hike at night, of hiking up any hills, of using hand- eye coordination to push a kayak forward and having the forethought and the teamwork to do that with a buddy. Perhaps they are not used to doing a night snorkel, to spending time in a garden or a microscope lab, to being out of their comfort zone, or to see that their actions have consequences further reaching then themselves. It’s the tough weeks that challenge me that make me REMEMBER. Remember what it’s like to be out of my comfort zone, to change my style of teaching, and to remember what it’s like to be away from home for the first time, as many of the kids might be.
Being out of our comfort zone is a remarkable way we really get to know ourselves.
I am not done learning.
I’ve had many adventures in the past year:
Camping in isolated spots on Catalina:
Showing my island world to my sister Meredith and her husband Scott:
The ....Chicago.... ..Marathon.. October 12:
Seeing Obama at my Alma Mater in Fort Collins, Colorado October 26th:
Water fun and scuba diving Catalina Island:
Hiking the untouched hills on Catalina:
Seeing friends and riding bikes in Fort Collins.., ..Colorado....:
.JPG)
Seeing two of my brothers get married:
Spending a summer with my sister Morgan near NYC:
Biking across the ..Brooklyn.. bridge:
Learning to work, live, and play with the same 20 people:
Returning home, again:
Sunday, March 23, 2008
the island life for me
Sunday, March 23, 2008
the island life for me
Current mood: content
I’m sitting on the edge of an island listening to the waves roll in, watching something that hasn’t become so familiar that I stop appreciating it. I don’t really imagine how that could happen. I’ve been in the states for just over a month. I still look the wrong way when crossing the street, I still speak with an apparently funny accent and strange intonations which I didn’t realize I had until I’d stepped foot out of the country where I’d gained the inflections and back into the familiar soil in the United States.
I’m getting to know the LA airport quite well as I had a 4 hour layover after leaving Auckland but before returning to Dallas, only to return to that same airport 3 days later to start a new job on another island, on Catalina. A week and a half later I return to the same airport for the same LA- Dallas route to be home for my brother’s wedding, and then, after another 3 days, I’m back at the LA airport, back on a ferry headed towards the continuation of a job I’d just started as an instructor with an environmental outdoor education program.
It still feels like I’m as far away as New Zealand sometimes. I have to pre-plan every phone call or text message because my cell phone gets such bad service here. It’s a tease to my homing device. "I’m back in the country!! But I still can’t talk to you!!"
My sister Meredith and her husband Scott just visited me in California. I showed them around the island and we took up a whole bench and rode in a van full of strangers on unpaved windy roads across Catalina island. We kayaked and saw seals and sea lions, we snorkeled, had a campfire, we hiked and I shared my newfound knowledge of Catalina native edible and non-edible plants, native animals, tide pool organisms, composting, and the like. We did a (full) moonlight kayak and paddled straight out towards the mainland, though we could barely see it, until Howland’s Landing cove was almost indistinguishable as darkness seeped in and we watched the moon appear half on the horizon and sat mesmerized on kayaks in the middle of the channel and continued to watch until the orange tinted glowing full moon rose into the sky and I couldn’t feel my toes but I could feel the breeze and feel like I was, again, on the end of the earth.
I don’t have a 3 second delay when speaking to loved ones now that I’m back in the country. And it’s good to be back in the USA.
the island life for me
Current mood: content
I’m sitting on the edge of an island listening to the waves roll in, watching something that hasn’t become so familiar that I stop appreciating it. I don’t really imagine how that could happen. I’ve been in the states for just over a month. I still look the wrong way when crossing the street, I still speak with an apparently funny accent and strange intonations which I didn’t realize I had until I’d stepped foot out of the country where I’d gained the inflections and back into the familiar soil in the United States.
I’m getting to know the LA airport quite well as I had a 4 hour layover after leaving Auckland but before returning to Dallas, only to return to that same airport 3 days later to start a new job on another island, on Catalina. A week and a half later I return to the same airport for the same LA- Dallas route to be home for my brother’s wedding, and then, after another 3 days, I’m back at the LA airport, back on a ferry headed towards the continuation of a job I’d just started as an instructor with an environmental outdoor education program.
It still feels like I’m as far away as New Zealand sometimes. I have to pre-plan every phone call or text message because my cell phone gets such bad service here. It’s a tease to my homing device. "I’m back in the country!! But I still can’t talk to you!!"
My sister Meredith and her husband Scott just visited me in California. I showed them around the island and we took up a whole bench and rode in a van full of strangers on unpaved windy roads across Catalina island. We kayaked and saw seals and sea lions, we snorkeled, had a campfire, we hiked and I shared my newfound knowledge of Catalina native edible and non-edible plants, native animals, tide pool organisms, composting, and the like. We did a (full) moonlight kayak and paddled straight out towards the mainland, though we could barely see it, until Howland’s Landing cove was almost indistinguishable as darkness seeped in and we watched the moon appear half on the horizon and sat mesmerized on kayaks in the middle of the channel and continued to watch until the orange tinted glowing full moon rose into the sky and I couldn’t feel my toes but I could feel the breeze and feel like I was, again, on the end of the earth.
I don’t have a 3 second delay when speaking to loved ones now that I’m back in the country. And it’s good to be back in the USA.
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