How to Deal with Fall (Autumn)

There are some of us...who never have to deal with the four seasons. Four seasons to me growing up, was a pizza which our family liked because everyone got what they wanted. However, in this place called the Northern Hemisphere, the weather includes more then simply the rainy season and the sunny season.

Thus far, my thoughts on autumn are inconclusive. I don't quite know what I think but I don't like whatever it is. I'm used to continuous life; sunshine, grass, palm trees, colors and shades of life always sharing their joy with me. Flowers never die. The swimming pool is always welcome and the grass always needs cutting. Yes this sounds like an idealist seeing the world through rose-colored lenses but for years, this is my sense of reality; continuous sunshine.

Dropping back to United States in winter wasn't a problem. It was just an alternate reality. Spring was exciting, even magical as I saw the reality I know come back to me. Summer was a healing balm to my very soul. Now we have fall (autumn). I'm not sure what I think about that. Granted the sun still shines for the most part. Granted the leaves changing their colors is extraordinary, another alternate reality. But...I find myself grieving. There's a sense of finality about seasons. It's sad. Other's see the beautiful colors of fall. For me, it's like seeing everything I know and love...the trees, the warm weather, the weekend biking...die. I liked winter because of that foreign element, but I don't like getting there.

Right now, people around me hear my whinging about fall as I layer on more clothes then normal people consider normal. Perhaps fall will redeem itself as time progresses but as the chipper girl from Southern Africa...I may just whinge through it and on till next spring.

How to Know When a Place is Home

As the end of my third week of my last year in uni draws to a close, I contemplate, have I even done anything interesting? Tragically, I concluded that I haven't. Interesting and I have parted in such different directions that domestic-ed Americana thinks it has a shot at me. Perhaps I exaggerate (or do I?) but I acutely feel that life has become a pursuit of the minute and I lose track of the bigger and finer things of life. Why just today, I was enjoying a spin around Hburg on my bike...delighting in the sunshine...and whinging internally that I never got out on my bike because I have so much homework...and then I realized...I had actually taken a two hour ride the day before.

When you realize time is passing quickly, you realize you're beginning to feel at home. When faces you'd know vaguely before smile at you, you realize you're beginning to feel at home. When you know where to find the freshest fruit, when certain roads are busy, and especially once you've mastered the dress code...you realize that you're beginning to make a foreign environment your home. It's a universal truth that you don't have to love any one place as soon as you move there or for the following months. You don't have to be eternal committed to a place to make it "home." You just have to create a few routines, make a few friends and solemnly promise yourself you're going to try and not make an idiot of yourself learning local customs.

This is my country. This is where I'm supposed to belong. Even though my classmates look like me and speak with a similar accent, I'm still a global nomad who's picked Hburg as my foreign assignment. Like adapting to any new country, I've got though the hardest months and the humiliation of looking like a clueless idiot over and over again (and had to shudder past the hippy-eque dress code, just wasn't feeling it). This is the part where I start to enjoy my new posting. It might never be home, but like any foreign culture, it can feel almost like home...

How to Survive Your Last First Day of School

The first week of university is quite standard globally. We all encounter very similar sentiments. We all lose our nerve and question our constant inclination towards stupid decisions. Even though this is my last first-day-of-school, this was also my first day of school. I was taught at home...and then I had that stint with online uni....so I never formally showed up for a first day of school anywhere. (I'm a global nomad. Of course it doesn't make sense.) Because this is so novel, I will document my first week for future reference and to compare against other uni systems.

1) I panicked. One must always panic because...well I panicked because I'm taking 18 credit hours, ie. full time plus some. I've never taken seven classes before. Previously the most I ever did was six but this time I have math comp so I have extra reason to whinge endlessly. Nonetheless, like any former Zimbabwean resident you think to yourself..."gotta make a plan."

2) I panicked encore. I'm living in an apartment with two girls I knew as acquaintances before. I thought it would be great because they're social butterflies and I'm an academic hermit who needs physiologic help. Still, when you're family drives away headed back to Sudan and you're standing in the middle of Southern Virginia with your mountain of stuff...obviously...you really panic...and then you have a meltdown...and then...well...you suck it up and tell yourself like any true Zimbabwean..."I'm goin' to make a plan."

3) You panic still again. This time you get your course syllabus and you're shocked your profs have the audacity to think you've got thousands of hours to devote to their class alone. You quickly realize, you're going to have no life. It's a horrible feeling but still again, like any person who ever tolerated the Robert Mugabe regime, you remind yourself..."I need to make a plan."

4) You panic a final time. You realize, this is the last time you'll ever be a student. Sure post-grad is always an option but...if this is your last first-day-of-school...that means you're old! You think of all you've done, and all you haven't done. Your panic melts into melancholy and you remember those hideous clothes you wore in middle school (at least I do) and the boys you crushed as a high school fresher (gosh I was an idiot). You sigh and think of the good days and realize just how much a global nomad you are because you're still uttering comments such as..."I'll just make a plan..."

How I Got Back to Uni (Final Edition)

I made a decision towards the beginning of the summer. A commitment. A choice. A willful obligation though I shuddered and whinged internally. I am going to make it through uni.

This was not at all an easy decision. Obviously, living in Southern Virginia with a slew of white people between the ages of 18 and 22 committed to recycling and late night dumpster diving, is hardly my first choice. Like any true global nomad, I have no idea where I want to be...but it has to be...outrageous...in a bizarre global nomad sense. I need to live a life sustaining pleasant personal diversions and dangerously exciting vacations. It's simply part of being a global nomad...it's hard to explain it any other way.

Today I moved into my dorm, bidding farewell to my wonderful summer and committing myself to social death. I contemplated the significance of facing my fears and coming back to uni. It's a lot like moving to a new country so I should be able to handle it better but it's still difficult. These people look like me, they have the same mother-tongue as me and they eat the same food and celebrate the same holidays...but it's not easy.

For me, finishing uni is a commitment to making good choices. It means overcoming homesickness for my family who currently live in Sudan who can't make it back for my graduation. It means learning to make the most of the moment while realizing that I did pick the school for the academics and that comes first. It means putting things in boxes and removing other things from mental boxes as it relates to my global nomadic understandings of life. It means learning when to speak up and when to silently affect change in my own way. There are always lessons to learn.

This is my final year of undergrad. I've only got a year left. I've no idea where I'll be this time next year; terrifying...thrilling...I need coffee to help me calm down. So...here's to the future! School has come back around.

How to Attend a Demolition Derby

Welcome to the County Fair!

Just when you think you've defined "Americana." As if that was even possible in such a big country. Being in America affords many interesting, interesting experiences and the demolition derby is surely one of the most interesting of the many interesting American experiences.

1) You must expect to be deaf. The demolition derby is rough on the ears. You will lose you hearing and you will wish you lost your hearing to your favorite band's concert, not because eight cars were raving in the mud. At the beginning, the sound will give you a migraine but towards the end when there are only a few left battling it out, it's bearable.

2) You must sit back in the bleachers. The cars are lined up in a mud pit and after the crowd countdown, they attack each other. I questioned the mud before I realized the velocity would have otherwise been dangerous to these remarkable pieces of car-art. The mud goes flying.

 3) You must realize, it's entertainment. Basically, it's a bunch of gloriously painted old cars smashing each other up until one is left standing. We start with little trucks, then bigger trucks, then little cars, bigger cars, and finally, the giant clunkers which are all solid mental and fail to dent. These cars are then refirbished and they do it again, and again....and again...

It's a priceless experience. You'll realize how wonderfully diverse this country is. It's just....awesome.

How to Enjoy Washington DC

So I've already established that DC is not the most interesting city nor is it the most dull place. It's...just there. As a global nomad, I go for the slightly bizarre quirky things. As a quasi-American, I go for the history. And as a peacebuilder in training, I go for...yeah...peace. (No 60s peace/love/crack/pot stuff...a little more class people.) I have had a very good time here and so I advise the following...yet...these are through the lense of a quirky global nomad.

Several favorite activities at DC:

1) Drinking coffee at Caribou Coffee at Metro Center. There's a Starbucks every two blocks and I got spiteful. I loved my iced coffee watching people ascend and descend from the metro, writing my emails and papers, and trying to understand the whole appeal of a rustic-themed coffee joint.

2) Library of Congress. I got so excited. I did! The building is beautiful but you've gotta take a tour...take a tour my friend or you'll miss this temple to the importance and value of knowledge.

3) Jazz in the Sculpture Garden. I enjoyed the little bit I was here but it does it crowded and it's a thing you do with friends.

4) Stroll Downtown. I would put on my good clothes and my shades and pretend I belonged down there. The prettier parts of town would be Dupont or even up where I lived, Takoma Park or there's the Mall with the tourist in Chicos and Nikes. I liked all of the above. But I really digged downtown.

5) The Botanical Gardens: I flipped for this place. It's truly so beautiful. I enjoyed sitting and communing with my inner-self and mediating on community and peace (or not). Really, loved seeing all the green because...well...the Mall's grass is a little crewed up from the Crocs.

6) The Holocaust Museum: If you want to change the world, visit this place. I was moved beyond words, and affected far after I spent nearly four hours touring the memorial. I wasn't entirely sure how to process what I saw, but I promised myself I would never, ever, ever engage in any form of racism.

7) Lunch at the Tidal Basin: Overlooking the Jefferson Momument with dates and families out on the paddle boats. It was green, tree-lined and peaceful. I was contente.

8) See a Good Movie: It was "Julie and Julia" for me. Read the reviews, visit Rotton Tomatos, watch the trailers, and hit a matinee. You can go alone, it's still fun but you must bring your own candy and you must laugh loudly like an American at all the jokes. It's part of the cultural experience.

9) Uhh...visit DC and try something for yourself. You can also sera content (e).

How to Pick a Summer Blockbuster

I truly adore the cinema. I admit it. I love everything about the experience (except the popcorn, too expensive. I smuggle in peanut M&Ms, only the peanut ones). Now at my uni, we have a weekly film shown in the school’s largest lecture hall…in lecture chairs…on square projector scene…with crappy lecture hall sound system…now people that’s like a layover in Dubai…you do it but that doesn’t mean it’s comfortable.

So obviously while here in DC, I had to crash the cinema with my smuggled food at a less expensive matinee. I'd seen the trailers for this particular film. I read the reviews and I made the choice. This was going to be make me happy and...shockingly it did! I fulfilled my craving for the cinema, my love for stories set in my favorite city of Paris, and this longstanding desire to see a movie on opening weekend. I went to see “Julie and Julia;” center theater in between two popcorn chomping couples.

I loved it. I really did. Normally I don’t blog politics or television but there was something special about this film. It followed two women. 1) Julia Child, following her career diplomat husband (who she married in China when working for the State Department as a secretary) to Paris in the 1950s. She tries hat-making lessons, bridge lessons before deciding to take cooking lessons (she and her husband both agreed she’s so good at eating). 2) Julia Powell, a 2002 mid-range bureaucrat in NYC plodding through a passion-less life, and struggling to overcome a chronic inability to finish projects. She decides to blog her way through Julia Child’s cookbook in one year. A film centered around blogging…that’s one reason I chose this to be my first film to see opening weekend. I thought it might stir some thoughts for my very own blog!

I admired Julia right off the bat. She was good humored, engaging, humble, and completely relished her life a diplomatic global nomad. But then again, I’m completely Julie. I fret about doing something meaningful. I become frustrated when life seems to be sapped of passion, I sometimes feel like I don't deserve the wonderful people in my life and I and procrastinate with tasks like boning ducks.

I deeply admire women like Julia Child who rise to greatness by just being themselves; unassuming and without seeing any glory for themselves. I admire women who don’t turn into men in an effort to prove that women are just as adequate as men or attempt to effect change in their spheres of influence. I admire people like Julie to make tiny steps to bring joy in their lives and later share it with others.

So what’s the global nomad’s lesson from my love of cinema and adoration for this movie? Well, the film was about blogging. I’m going to try and blog more! But the application…make time to do what you love on the weekend. It’s good for the soul and there’s no sense running yourself into the ground. That’s what I’ve learned over the summer and I’ll pass it on.