How New Year Divides Us: Second Edition

It's sad watching 2010 draw to a close. I couldn't have ask for a better year. It was my absolute favorite year thus far; good times, everyday miracle, watching and laughing at life life, exploring beauty and strength, and beginning the art of trusting people. Even though much of this past year was in the States, it was global nomadic themed which greatly improved upon it's massive success. But success was truly found in the amazing people I encountered.

Originally I planned to reflect back on the top 10 events of the year...but 10 expanded...and kept expanding...and I'm a writer so we're notoriously bad at self-editing.

1) New Years in Atlanta with my dearest friend Olivia, seeing David Crowder Band, Chris Tomlin, Matt Redman, Beth Moore, and John Piper live, along with thousands of young people in the Philips Arena seeking service-based lives.

2) Living with hilarious people in a rundown drafty and foodie-obsessed house over the spring semester; playing board games, watching at Winter Olympics, lots of homemade bread and soup and playing in snow storms.

3) Establishing myself as the owner of a bachelor's degree while my mom, grandparents, aunt and uncle, and special friend Lorraine all stood with me.

4) Spending 10 summer weeks in Washington DC. I learned what I don't want to do with my life, but discovered someone who I enjoy spending my life with...finding green spaces, photographic spots, and good coffee.

5) Becoming the proud owner of a Fuji Newest 3.0 and biking down the Met-Branch Trail at 9pm with the Capital Building glowing at the end of the trail. This is epic in the truest sense.

6) A whirlwind BWI/DC/NYC roadtrip with my parents, the highlights being walking along DC bike trails with Jon and lapping Central Park NYC three times on my new bike in my new biking gear.

7) Three months with my family and grandparents, building relationships with them and enjoying their company; kayaking and tubing in the Adirondacks, taking my sister to college, and biking along County Route 13 (yes, on the Fuji Newest 3.0).

8) Remembering and celebrating Darrell Hercyk's life.

9) Getting the job I always wanted, with the organization I wanted, in the field I wanted, in a region I wanted, in this economic climate...that was a miracle...

10) Taking Jon to my favorite places around New York because beautiful places must be shared.

11) Going out to Stoneybrook Farm in Filer Idaho to visit my lovely friend Sarah; eating the freshest veggies in the world, packing seasonal baskets, driving a tractor, seeing the Rockies, and walking on the Oregon Trail.

12) Twice meeting Sudanese Catholic clergy building peace in Sudan while the country counts-down to separation and possible violence, and knowing that a united and peaceful church really can make a difference even if our governments are doing nothing.

13) Moving to Asia...by myself...in two suitcases...and blind faith.

My theme for the year was "Big." I knew this time last year everything was going to be big in 2010. I mean, I was graduating! I knew life would change and that the changes would be drastic. I wanted to believe that a big God would orchestrate what I needed for the future. It was a test to myself. Did I trust God was big enough? It's a self-examination I will continually reapply. My "Big" year meant overcoming big fears and conquering big steps, and breaking down big issues in small pieces and solving them one by one; transitioning into "grown-up" from college student and peacebuilder from simply quizzical inquirer.

I'm indeed sad closing this chapter. But a new year starts; new miracles, new challenges, new strangeness and bizarreness, new beauty and strength and the opportunity to take on Asia. New Years are different for everyone, literally and figuratively (I live in Cambodia, we celebrate the New Year on three calendars). But we all want the new year to be better then the last so maybe it unites us more then I previously thought.

How to Celebrate Christmas In Phnom Penh

I didn't really plan Christmas. Christmas activities fell in my lap this year. Sometimes when things fall in your lap you know someone is looking out for you.

Christmas Eve: Christmas Eve was perfect. I talked to all my family (and then some!), ate pancakes, went shopping, ate at KFC (even though I hate meat and fried foods), spent several hours updating computer software. And then, off to Mass with six other MCCers. There was a full on rendition of Jingle Bell Rock and Deck the Halls in addition to all the traditional Christmas hymns and precious small children doing a nativity play. From there, I ventured onto a friend's house where some of my house-church friends/coworkers had prearranged a Christmas Eve sleepover. There were eight of us who stayed over and several others who came over in the morning for brunch. We strung up mosquito nets on the veranda; ate our favorite foreign foods, played games and stayed up till 11:30pm which is the Cambodian equivalent to three am.

Christmas Day: Christmas brunch! I stayed over till well past noon the next day before I really couldn’t function anymore because I was puking up strange foods. So I slept, watched "Love Actually" and "The Queen" and didn't go out to my favorite Khmer restaurant with friends where the rice comes in a giant pineapple. We did watch Harry Potter 7 so that was fun.

Boxing Day: I tried to go to church but church was not occurring given the holiday festivities. And so I went out for French toast and treated myself to new music...and watched a movie...and a nap.

All in all, it was a good Christmas. It was my first Christmas tout de seule, my first Christmas in Cambodia, my first post-uni Christmas, so many firsts. I cannot complain. In fact, I really can't complain, me and my two-liter bottle of Sprite.

How Christmas Unites Us: Second Edition

I've been avoiding Christmas this year. It's for my own good. I miss my grandparents, my parents, my sister, my bros, my aunts and uncles...my friends. I only arrived in Phnom Penh eight weeks ago so while I have new friends here, I'm inherently and undeniably new...and this does not help when thoughts of previous Christmases come to mind.

Christmas in North America is surrounded by traditions which don't apply to me. I grew up without the lights, the cold weather, the Santa myth, the holiday parties, and the extravaganza of commercialism and the related gift giving complications. My Christmases were simpler. But this Christmas, I'm not around any family or any close friends. And as such, I'm avoiding Christmas. I find solace in the knowledge that this arrangement isn't permanent. I'll spend Christmases with my family in the future and I look forward to having great friends here next year here in Phnom Penh. Nothing is permanent in the global nomadic life, nothing is for sure, and everything is flexible (which drives even the most die-hard global nomad crazy).

Still, I can't completely ignore Christmas. I find myself thinking about expectations. Christmas is shrouded in expectations and anticipation, a buildup to a day of community and happiness. I'm not building my expectations around Christmas. I'm building expectations around other things, such as creating community here, Southern Sudanese independence, moving into my first apartment and hanging art on my bare white walls, hosting my family in May (the icing on the cake!), speaking Khmer with my partner (who speak precious little English), and learning to find and experience joy and peace in new places. Perhaps less concrete, perhaps less measurable, but I live in constant expectation for these moments, in permanent reverence in our flexible and irreverent world. In our global nomadic world, it's impossible to pin our happiness to one thing or even in tradition. We learn to expect and accept odd blessings from strange places.

And so we are united by our desire to find community. But community isn't linked to a date or a holiday but a lifestyle of open hearts and minds.

How to Drive in Phnom Penh

• Today I flipped an illegal u-turn on a red light. It would have been illegal in the States. I'm not so sure in Cambodia but it felt awesome to avoid the left-hand turn and no one else seemed to care.
• Today I made multiple left turns through oncoming traffic. The trick is to slow down to a crawl and creep/pray your way through.
• Today I watched a black SUV run a red light and come within half a foot of hitting me in the middle of a major intersection. I was furious...and stunned. I understand why everyone hates cars.
• Today I forgot to shift down, and stalled trying to pull out of another major intersection while literally several dozen motos (and tuks tuks!) were flying ahead all around me.
• Today I went around a roundabout twice. The first time was brilliant. The second time there were too many SUVs for me to pull off and when I finally managed to turn, I backtracked around the edge of the roundabout about 20 yards for my street.
• Today I drove on the wrong side of the road, but it's okay if it's only for a short distance. When traffic subsided ever so slightly, I moved to the correct side.
• Today I floored my little moto until I got up to 26mph. I thought I was flying. I've never gone so fast before, ever.
• Today I only used my blinkers once. Honestly, what the heck are those for anyway? It's not like you'd want to look down to turn them and no one else does!
• Today I didn't want to wait at a stop light, so I drove through a gas station and around the block.
• Today I parked on the sidewalk, but in my defense it had been turned into a parking lot and the pedestrians were walking on the road.
• And yes, today I also drove on the sidewalk.
• This was just today.

I was going to blog about driving in Cambodia. But apparently my short trip for lunch and wheat flour was interesting enough. There are no timid drivers in Cambodia. There are only drivers and aggressive drivers. I'm progressing towards aggressive but I'm still due for my new driver "incident" so we shall see. They are never serious incidents and I always travel with my phone and my very fashionable red helmet...and 5000 riel in the event of fines ($1.5).

Drive as fast as you can (if you go above 20mph you're flying), drive aggressively, drive anywhere there's space, and remember the pecking order; cars, tuk tuks, motos, bikes, and finally, at the very end, people. Oh and don't drive during the day with your headlight on because that's the only real offense you could be fined for.

How to Explain Unexpected Rain

It poured last Monday for several hours. It was very nice, cooling down the hot day. Rain empties the streets because you can't drive a moto, tuk tuk or bike when it's raining down sheets.

The unusually heavy and unseasonal rain was partially attributed to the Water Festival stampede deaths. The spirit world is unsettled and disturbed by the large number of unexpected deaths. Cambodian tradition suggests that for six days, the soul of the dead wanders around unaware they are actually dead. They'll try and go home so their family members will place food outside the house to keep them from entering the house. A Buddhist monk will circle the house chanting to create a type of spell which prevents the spirits from entering the house. If they enter their former home, they'll become ghosts and haunt the house. Often, intense and bananas or other food are set up on the sidewalk, even more appeasement and enticement. Sometimes, little model cars and houses are burned along with the incense so that the spirits will have all their needs met in the spirit world and have no desire to return home.

On the seventh day after their death, a spirit will finally realize that they've died. Since they can't go home, and they know their dead, they'll accept it and disappear into the spirit world.

There are three funerals after someone dies. The day after they die, the seventh day after they die (which is when the dead spirit realizes it's dead) and then 100 days afterwards to fully appreciate the passage of time. Sometimes, for cost efficiency, the seventh and 100 day funerals are rolled into one. During a funeral, it's perfectly acceptable to set up a massive tent in the street and play loud music and chanting over a PA system during each three-day funeral. Everyone does it. There's an unspoken rule that you can't complain because eventually do you'll do it too.

And so, rain, anomalies, and any form of disturbance last week was blamed on the Water Festival deaths and disturbance in the spirit worlds. It caused some genuine trepidation and fear; fear that the spirit world was somehow unbalanced which lead to the accident, and fear that the recently dead spirits would cause an even greater disturbance. Sometimes it's hard for me to understand such tradition as a Westerner. But this is what death means here, and the consideration for the happiness of others is touching. Lets hope we're so considerate while they're alive.

How to Celebrate Thanksgiving, or Not

Thanksgiving does not exist outside the 50 American States. I keep saying this to Americans in America because it's true. Maybe Thanksgiving extends some influence to US protectorates such as Puerto Rico and the Virgin Islands, Guam, Northern Mariana Islands, and American Samoa. Here in Cambodia, I get holidays like International Human Rights Day, the kings birthday, the queen's birth, the kings's father's birthday and the three-day Cambodia New Year but not American Thanksgiving (even working for a bi-national American-Canadian organization).

Thanksgiving is far too American, steeped in a culturally specific story of manifest destiny, sporadically observed religious tradition, stupid culturally specific sports, and foods high in carbs that don't exist in other nations. Thanksgiving only goes as far as the American's who desire it will take the holiday. Thanksgiving came to Phnom Penh, only because Americans brought it and honestly, we only bring the food. We take it with us because it's part of who we are, it's part of a calender we find comforting, encourages a spirit of gratitude we understand as important, and because eating those high-carb foods brings a sense of stability.

I had a reverse Thanksgiving break this year. I got Monday and Tuesday off for Water Fest. And ironically given the stampede tragedy, we got Thursday off as a national day of mourning. So we actually got Thanksgiving off. I didn't do much. I was feeling tired so I hibernated with a book and a movie and eventually took a three-hour nap. As it is, we had our own Thanksgiving several days later, the expat staff and some of the interested national staff. It was delicious! We had stuffing (or dressing as some people call it), an actual turkey, gravy, mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, a pretty salad, Russian Mennonite Zwieback, apple cider, tropical fruit, and apple crisp and two types of pie. It was as close to a Thanksgiving in my global nomadic experience; good food and good people. It's what you make it and what you know.

I'm not exactly sure what to make of Thanksgiving sometimes. Remnants of culture to which I supposedly belong and links to food which I either dislike, can't access or are too high in carbs that I wouldn't eat anyway. I understand the significance of giving thanks. I made a list of 25 things which I'm thankful for, beginning with good health and ending with the people I love. I am thankful, but I suppose I don't have much need for a day to remind me of that when it's mixed with confusion and a lack of belonging. I count my blessings every day.

How Cambodian Water Festival Varies

Sunday morning when I googled Water Festival Cambodia, google fetched me fabulous pictures of boats, lights, floats, and fireworks. Today I made the same search. Along with the former photos were new pictures from Monday night and the stampede off Diamond Island. If I had written about Water Festival on Monday, this post would look different. It's Wednesday and given that around 375 people died and an estimated 750 were injured, I don't know exactly what to write.

Water Festival is one of the biggest holidays on the Cambodian holiday. Some suggest it's even bigger then Cambodian New Year or Chinese New Year (no one cares about the January 1st new year). Water Fest is a lunar based three-day holiday marking the Makong and Bassac Rivers reversed flow after the end of the rainy season. Over 2 million people converge on Phnom Penh from the provinces to watch the boat racing on the Phnom Penh rivers. The visitors camp out along the river, setting up mosquito nets and makeshift camps along the river front. Cambodians aren't exactly competitive people so Water Fest isn't really about the racing. It's about the makeshift markets along the river with deep discount and bargains on everything from tires to fruit. It's about the fireworks and nighttime floats with lights. It's about three days off from work. It's about spending time and eating with family and friends.

Phnom Penh residents and expats try to leave the city. It's congested and packed

and the river front area is blocked off from cars and motos so the crowds can flow better. Some of my coworkers left the city and the rest of us filled out time cooking, relaxing and "interneting."

I did make it down to the river front Sunday night. It was amazing! The high energy, the packed crowds, the sales and deals, the lit-up floats each representing a governmental office and looking very much like Disneyland, the 30 minute long exquisite firework display, the fountains with music and lights, the concerts in front of Independence Monument, and then trying to stay together with my coworker and her Cambodian sisters. It was like a rock concert meet 4th of July meets an amusement park. Several hours later I was tired of people shoving against me, but it was one of those overseas experience you slightly loathe but absolutely have to do once. Getting home we got stuck in traffic for over two hours. The crowds even then worried me. So Tuesday morning, sadly I wasn't completely surprised even though the scale was horrifyingly large.

No one knows what happened on Monday night. Diamond Island is Phnom Penh's newest hottest destination. You haven't been to Phnom Penh until you've been to Diamond Island. It was built on Bassac River silt several years ago and is accessed via two narrow bridges. At night, the bridges are decked out Vegas-style in massive multicolored lights, one of them even has a giant gold swan protruding upwards, longer then the actual length of the bridge. Too many people on Diamond Island, too many people on a bridge that's really only 30 feet-wide, too many lights that don't meet safety code...it didn't end well.

So that was Water Festival. It's a massive high energy festival. And it was also the lowest point in decades for national morale. I'm glad I experienced the good parts! And next year, I'll take my four day weekend and head out of town. What will Water Fest look like next year? No one knows.

How Holidays Have Mixed Connotations

I think you must be getting old when you don't care much for birthdays. I'm not even that old, but apparently I'll be old very soon. I've learned I can live a very well-adjusted life nearly anywhere. I wake up, find the sunshine or breath in the rain, and proceed to live my life as a series of days filled with good people, good food and good reflection. 

Except then there are holidays. That's when I want to be with people I love, and sometimes that's all I can think about. I value so many precious people, scattered across the world who I so rarely see. I think about where I was the previous holiday, and how things have so drastically changed and nostalgia morphs into self-pity. Sometimes I fall into good holidays, but that always hugely unplanned. I try very hard to ignore holidays, and when that fails, I try very hard to be apathetic, and then I decide to just have a lousy day, just that one day. Everyone else gives Christmas, Thanksgiving and birthdays positive connotation but I've attached mixed meanings. 

I haven't fully learned how to have good holidays overseas. Now I'm on a solo adventure I'll have to create my own traditions and make new meanings. Perhaps one day I'll be able to turn holiday sadness into a matter of bullet points when I have the answers. Realistically, I can't expect to have answers when I've lived a mere quarter of the average life-expectancy for North American women. And perhaps putting it in perspective, if I can live more or less content except for a handful of holidays, that's not so bad. Wednesday was a challenge. Thursday was good...and Friday...and Saturday...and even Sunday...so if anything, we can count our blessings. I'd rather have good days, and the occasional day in solitary reflection.

How to Drink Coffee (Cambodia Edition)

I was prepared for a return to a tea-based life in Cambodia. Pakistanis, Indians, Chinese...all the places I know in Asia drink tea. With the exception of Ethiopia and the USA, the entire world I know drinks tea. Tea stirs up thoughts of fuzzy nighttime routines, formal high tea with biscuits, African women heaping sugar into chai, and old Pakistani men staring on street corners. This is tea as I know it. It can be a beautiful thing. But on some days I self-identify as a quasi-American from New York. The Americans I know from New York drink coffee. I don't know many Americans from New York...but that's not the point.

I was not grieved to learn that I can drink lots of coffee in Phnom Penh. Phnom Penh is Southeast Asia's NGO Mecca because visas are so easily obtained. The capital city's economy caters to this massive foreign population clustered across the city from every Western destination known to mankind. Foreign influence aside, even Cambodians drink iced coffee. Coffee is rarely if ever served hot. It's also fixed with sweetened condensed milk making it ridiculously sweet, so you ask for "fresh milk" for a less milkshake-tasting morning beverage.

I've found iced coffee on literally every corner at any type of local restaurant, such as the place down from my office where I try not to watch how the dishes are washed. I learned the straws are rewashed so I haven't been back. I've yet to learn how it's brewed because the normal implements are nonexistent, God-forbid it's boiled, yet this might be true. It's not exactly good coffee but it's on ice with lots of sugar.

I've learned if I walk 20 minutes to the Russian Market, there are an abundance of the foreigner (or brongs in slang Khmer) frequented coffee shops. There I can pay more, but it will be hygienically appealing and I will be consuming my cappuccino or iced mocha with other brongs in an air-conditioned environment. I can even pretend I'm in France, or Zimbabwe, or Pakistan....or any other foreign hang-out I grew up in. Everyone else looks just like you so you don't feel foreign.

Or, I can buy the canned Nescafe iced coffees which aren't either bad or expensive. Vietnam produces quite a few decent canned ice coffee mixtures, one of the larger coffee producers in the Southeast Asia region, some of which are not entirely bad. They'll shoot you up with caffeine and sugar just like a red bull, very unglamorous. Cambodians say that Laotian coffee is the best, because everything negative is associated with Vietnam.

I've learned that coffee at the grocery store is mostly instant which inspires many strong negative feelings which I often express vocally with great passion.  I may never drink hot coffee in Cambodia, which makes it easier to run down to the sketchy local coffee shop then ever brew it myself which just might happen.

Thinking of coffee and tea overseas constantly reminds me of a dear friend my family knew from years ago...."in 50 years, you're going to have Pepsi declared the national drink. You'll have folk songs written about drinking Pepsi and there will be books with titles like, 'Three Cups of Pepsi.'" Noah's not entirely wrong. That could happen for Cambodia. Globalized beverage preferences are hardly new...the quest for tea took Europeans East...and now Asians go West for coffee...and Justin Bieber.

How to Survive A First Week in Phnom Penh

Most global nomads know the different between surviving and thriving. There are books about it, talks about it, awareness of it...but everyone agrees survival alone is perfectly acceptable for your first week in any new place.

So I survived a full week in Phnom Penh. I forced my eyes open and stood speechless before all the noise and chaos while my eyes and mind accepted to process the images, smells, sounds, and faces passing before me in rapid procession. Some call it culture shock. I call is processing. Culture shock has so much baggage attached to it. I'm just processing, categorizing, sleeping and imaging myself in a new place. It's part of a normal process. I know this process. I excel at this process. I love this process! So I survive the first week, with some crucial survival stories.

I survived the initial discovery that coffee is generally bad, but specialty coffees and iced coffees are respectably good.

I survived two pork and bean breakfasts with iced coffee for $1.25 is a good deal, and a very culturally appropriate morning meal.

I survived traffic, and learned I'm only responsible for the three inches in front of me, and nothing else. It's fine if the motos also clip me, as long as they don't full out hit me.

I survived doing business in two currencies, because the riel and the dollar share power, very democratically.

I survived meeting my new colleagues, getting over jet-leg, learning to roam the windy neighborhoods, and finding where the good local coffee shops, grocery stores and markets are located. I survived the inertia when  my fast post-college life came to a screeching halt upon arrival, and the realization--even permission--to return to a slower, more socially based and more contemplative life. And I think, three years? I finished college in three years. In Phnom Penh, three years is totally thrive-able. 

How I Got to Phnom Penh

My sejour in the United States involved some travel. Idaho, home for Christmas, DC and back (twice), Atlanta, Baltimore, Philadelphia... It was altogether quite easy. I learned to travel in carry-ons, liquids in one-quart zip-lock, and that a drivers permit is a perfectly acceptable form of ID. Traveling domestically is easy, so I learned. And with an Ipod and some good new music, it's even easier.

Alas though, those days are over. I will miss being charged for food, the stewardesses unkind words, and the TSA people telling me to throw out my toothpaste. I will miss the short flights where five hours is suddenly epic and 20 minutes is normal. I will miss seat-mates who wear deodorant and the feeling of racially integrating because everyone else looks just like me. Traveling in America is easy.

Because for now, I'm in Asia. Flying out here was 20 minutes, 14 hours, and 5 hours. Korean Air was nice to me, except for the lousy food, and quite amusing to me was the stewardess who didn't know enough English to tell me to turn off my Ipod. I found myself wandering the terminals of Dulles and Seoul with the rest of the international travelers, me in my Keens, the Asian businessmen in suits, and knew I was not among the ranks of American travelers off to see family and friends. I saw "the missionaries;" a stereotype applied to those who aren't missionaries but carry generic backpacks, wear sneakers and shorts and express a look of complete exhaustion. I bet I even looked like one. Traveling internationally isn't always easy. More then anything else, it's just utterly completely and inexplicably exhausting. 

I had no problems getting to Phnom Penh. My problems lie in the fact, that I am chronically tired. Jet-lag for 11 time zones is terrible which I have only just begun to discover. Yet at the end of the day, I can comfort myself in the knowledge that I won't have to make that trip again for many moons. Any local travel, will be on the back of moto, or in a smelly bus. 

How I Visited Pennsylvania

You can build you're entire life around a global nomad identity and still not have all the answers. I'm still asking myself, can you prepare to go overseas? You can't prepare to be a global nomad. That you just have to deal with because it will hit you like a Pakistani lorry when you actually are one. If you chose to be a global nomad, you aren't a global nomad because you can't predict it and global nomad implies a sense of...well...hmm...confusion? But can you prepare to leave one place for another? Technically, this is one of my easier transitions. I've finished college. My family returned homes in Sudan. My sister is in uni. It's time for the new. But can you prepare to go overseas?

I'm in Akron Pennsylvainia for training for my life and position overseas. I sit through meetings, I meet other people going overseas, and my eyes glaze over with something between fear and exhaustion. We talk about peace and service, and organization leadership, who does what job, and how we're all going to make the world a better place. We're all wrapping up loose ends back home. We're supposedly preparing to go overseas. But do two weeks of meetings prepare you for life overseas, or do they just give you questions to ponder?

I don't know if you can prepare to go overseas. You can read. You can get shots. You can buy Keens and pack a years worth of make-up and migraine meds. You can look at google maps. You can talk to people. You can even visit Pennsylvania. But nothing will ever take away that overwhelming, numbing, joy mixed with confusion during the over-stimulation panic you feel when you finally walk off the plane into a typically very ugly and concrete airport. You can't predict that. You'll have no framework to hold the information which you'll encounter so you'll have to build one, perhaps using tools from former lives but no two frameworks will ever be identical. I've given up on expections because no matter what I expect, I never expect the right thing. I've tried over and over again and after scientifically concluding I'm horrific with predictions, I decided I'll just wing it.

I'm not prepared. I can't be prepared. I've gone to uni and have peacebuilding tools. I've lived overseas and have global nomad tools. I've said my goodbyes to the people I love most and still wish they weren't so far away. I even visited Pennsylvania! What more can I do? That's why...I'm...just...going...off the diving board...

How to Justify Visiting Baltimore

This week I went to Baltimore. I have no fondness for Baltimore. In fact, BWI has a history of disturbing me, one of the few places in America where I actually feel like a minority and where I could likely get a fix of anything at multiple street corners. But I overcame my rational distaste and went down to Catholic Relief Services to join up with an ecumenical delegation of bishops from Sudan. My connection? Well, most global nomads will recognize that anywhere outside the West, family is central. Not just your family, but you're whole clan. And because the entire delegation knows most of my family, I was very welcome.

The delegation is touring DC, BWI and NYC promoting peace and policy awareness before 9 January 2011 when Southern Sudan will formally have a referendum and secede from Sudan, becoming their own sovereign state. Northern Sudan has oppressed, explored, repressed and warred with the South almost continuously from 1956 to 2005 when the Comprehensive Peace Agreement was signed, essentially a ceasefire which granted the South the right to hold a referendum in 2011 to stay united or separate. Scarcely 90 days from now, and without a doubt in any one's mind that separation is a foregone conclusion, everyone worries...will it be peaceful? Or is this a return to war?

The bishops are touring the East Coast promoting peace with the US Government, the Catholic Church, and the United Nations Security Council. The church is the only remaining structures in Southern Sudan that didn't collapse during the war as well as the only institution that wasn't enveloped in the Islamization of the North. As a result, it's moral authority and credibility are well established. Africa is a religious and a holistic continent. People don't separate church and state, and the church is seen as a place for education, health services, and spiritual guidance as well as a champion for peace and justice. The Sudan Ecumenical Forum is vocal and active promoting a peaceful succession because...everyone knows that Southerners want independence. And yet, what will happen to the Christians left in the North after the split who are doomed for persecution?

And so we discuss policy options, and seneros for the vote, and even if the vote will happen on time. Who will react and how. Will Southerners be relocated back from the North? What will happen to the oil? What about the three disputed boarder territories? What about border demarkation? There are millions of details outside the church and the humanitarian world's control that have to be decided. Yet the sole thing the bishops requested from the US Catholic Church? Prayer; prayer that Southern Sudan's oppression will finally come with the referendum, and that it will come peacefully.

It was worth enduring the Baltimore creepiness and the short flights down from Upstate New York because this is peacebuilding on a massive scale. These are champions of peace, justice, and even joy, and finally, on January 9, 2011 several million people will declare their desire for a new nation state.

Bishop Daniel made a statement in a meeting that resounded with me. He said that his people don't have the luxury of hopelessness. These are their lives, their futures and they are moving forward with hope because they need hope to survive. Such courage from the fearless leader of the Northern Sudanese Catholic Church...and I worry that being a global nomad is an affliction. If he can have hope, then all of us should.

How I Officially Became a Global Nomad

As I reflect back on my global nomadic life, one moment stands. In some ways, it all came down to this. It was a cold February day. There was snow coming down in sheets. I was in Virginia, wrapped in a Columbia Parka and carrying my green book bag (which incidentally expresses some political opinions).

It was graduation checklist. You checked your name, your major, and your hometown for the commencement's program in May. That's when I told the admin people I wanted my hometown left blank. They were very compliant, a little amused, and it was settled. I didn't think it would be hard. It was a deliberate choice I had carefully spent months considering. Yet walking out of that hall back into the snow, I completely broke down. I walked back to my house unable to stop crying. I walked past my housemates to my room, sat on the floor, and just kept crying. I didn't even know why, but I thought of Shawnee, Spartanburg, Rochester, Medford, Shantou, Nairobi, Limuru, Addia Ababa, Harare, Lusaka, Paris, Islamabad, Bath, Harrisonburg, Washington DC...

It's hard not knowing where you're from. There isn't one place on earth that claims me. I know I'm deeply loved by people in many places, but I don't have a home. I've gone back and forth over the course my higher education, struggling to find an answer...and I didn't. I'm a global nomad. The act of telling the world at that symbolic event that I don't have a home was unexpectedly painful and surprisingly healing.

I kept comparing graduation to my idea of a wedding. I don't know if I'll ever get married, and I don't really care, and that's not really the point either. But I marched my way through 15 years of education, 14 different homes and some very bad classes to come out the proudest owner of a Bachelor's degree, with high honors. May 2, 2010 was my glory day, ugly cap and gown aside. It's my most impressive achievement, and to the world, on that day, I said, I'm a global nomad.

I'm a global nomad. On May 2, 2010 I confessed that to the world and I confess it still. I don't know where I'm coming from and honestly, I don't know where I'm going. (I'm going to Cambodia next but that's not the point either.) Instead, I live this truth that I discovered and wholeheartedly believe....that happiness, joy and peace and be found anywhere.

How to Visit Idaho

My dream this past spring semester at uni was to visit Idaho. My soul craved Idaho. Who visits Idaho? Very few people which therefore meant that I had to go. That was the first reason. The second reason was that I've never been there. Third, it's really far West which seems like reason enough. And forth, finally, and most importantly, the girl who made college survivable for me is an Idaho native and loves the state heart and soul.



The Snake River, the Green, the Desert, and the Sky

So before hopping off to build peace half way around the world (though ironically I'll be closer to Idaho then New York), I had to hop out to Idaho and see it for myself, learn about the big wide west, and give my friend Sarah a huge East Coast hug. I went to Southern Idaho, which is different from Eastern Idaho (and the potatoes) and Northern Idaho (massive Rockies). Southern Idaho is desert; beautiful, flat, dry, treeless and often cloud free. The region is marked by the Snake River which provides the only water available in the area. I didn't expect that, but I was fascinated.

 

1) Visit Ketchum and the Sawtooths. I loved Idaho. I loved everything about the flatness and sunshine and big blue sky. But I'm a East Coaster (or my experience of the United States centers along the East Coast), so the flat shrubby landscape of Idaho hurt my soul just a little bit. But up in the Sawtooth Mountains range of the Idaho Rockies is the adorable touristy get-away town of Ketchum. The Sawtooths are massive, to die for...and really really big.

Desert and Farming: Two-Faced Southern Idaho



2) Visit Bruneo Canyon: Deep into the crevices of the earth, far below where sane men should travel (and can't for technical reasons), there exists, a river, Bruneo River...at the bottom of Bruneo Canyon. Actually, it's completely amazing but the only thing more amazing is that it's at the end of civilization. You literally drive for 45 minutes without seeing another car, or house, or person, or sign, except for the bombing range. And I truly despise when other tourists end up in my pictures which is far from an issue at as far as Bruneo.



3) Visit the Bruneo Sand Dunes: How many landlocked states have massive sand dunes? Not that many and rarities deserve the attention of global nomads. But sit on top of the Idaho's sand dunes and stargaze, feel the sunshine, and well....it's just awesome. Geologists believe that the area was once covered by a giant lake extending beyond the Salt Lakes of Utah, often called Lake Bonneville. The sand remains, even if Bonneville was just a myth.



4) Visit a farm: Sarah is a farm girl. I got to pick veggies, back Seasonal Baskets for her brother's Community Sponsored Agriculture project, dry corn, can tomatoes, and make ketchup. I went to Idaho to see Sarah, and so I had to love her Stoneybrook Farm. (I did really feel like a global nomad though. I'm pretty urban.)



Beautiful food, beautiful farms, beautiful state

5) Walk on the Oregon Trail: I may have grown up overseas, but as a child in Mainland China I played Oregon Trail. It's a computer game simulating what it was like to traverse from Missouri to Oregon, walking for between four and seven months over 2000 miles, all your life in a covered wagon, trying not to die in the 1850s. People did that, half a million people did that...continental nomads! You can still see the trail if you look for it, deep ruts carved into the soil...and marvel.



6) See a good friend: Hols are fun with friends, beautiful, gifted, golden-hearted friends. They know the lay of the land best, and they are the natives to your global nomad. If you visit Idaho, visit a friend...or make one.

This post is for my Computer

With distress and undying grief, I bid adieu to the former love of my life. My beloved computer...known lovingly as Ordi...has died. The screen no longer lights up...and it doesn't remember my settings either which is the equivalent to technological Alzheimer's, or just ignoring me. I find myself rather distraught, more so then when my first computer died. It was part of my life and I loved it, took care of it...and it forgot me. (And I'm not being dramatic.)

My beloved deceased computer

My beloved laptop was a symbol of my overseas life. It went to France, Zambia, Zimbabwe, Pakistan, New York, Virginia, South Carolina, and Washington DC...and if we're counting layovers (which totally count in my book) we'd add extended periods of time in South Africa, Netherlands, Tanzania, and the UAE). It traveled further then many people which only made it a more significant part of my increasingly strange life.

Freshman year, freshman day, August 2007, sitting in the Catholic Relief Services Regional Southern Africa Office in Lusaka Zambia, across from my dad who was the deputy regional director at the time, I started my first online uni classes with Ordi. And it went all the way through college with me. I dragged it to many CRS offices when the Internet was sucky or nonexistent at home and I needed to take exams. I watched eight seasons of Gilmore Girls on that computer when it wasn't safe to leave our home in Pakistan. I wrote every college paper on that computer from August 2007 to July 2010. I skyped my family from uni in the States. And I blogged (albeit irregularly) with Ordi.

It lived such a rich computer life and with a severe overhaul, it could live on. But technology is only useful when it works so my treasured Ordi will be retired and a new, faster, smaller computer (which will go by Ordi II) will take it's place. And it will have big shoes to fill...my desceased had a 15 inch screen.

How to Move Overseas

I've spent a lot of time the past few weeks thinking about my upcoming move to Southeast Asia. Two check-on bags and one carry-on for my upcoming new life! Problem is, I might have been thinking about it too much. Worries can take hold and I scare myself contemplating all the things that could go wrong and all the things that will change while I'm gone. What if it's too hot there? What if my allergies kill me in a smoggy Asian city? What if I get hit by a motorcycle? What if my friends get married in the States while I'm gone? What if I'm under-prepared for my job? What if I hate Khmer or it's too hard to learn? What if my family and friends forget about me, or let me fade to the periphery? What if I'm crazy for thinking I could do that? I just finished uni...and I'm moving 12 time zones around the world.

That's why you don't think. Don't overthink I mean.

I want to do this. It's a combination of many things. I love being overseas. I'm home in the strangeness where everything is just a little off and your constantly scratching your head, even though I've grown accustom to life in America where everything is clean, organized and put together. I was raised to believe service is essential to a selfless life. I was exposed to Catholic Social Teachings (the infallible "CST") with instructs adherents to caring for the poor and oppressed. I was educated on Mennonite ideals of bringing peace where it's scarce. And I believe that in giving of yourself, paradoxically you find internal joy.

The biggest struggle moving overseas is trust; trust it's going to be okay, trust that forces beyond your control are not out to get you, and trust that it's part of a plan greater then your small mind. So death by motorcycle, weddings, funerals, and my overblown OCD fears will have to be overcome, recatagorized and dismissed. It will be awesome. The rational part of my brain doesn't doubt that for a moment.

How to Visit the Adirondacks

My family likes taking holiday. Normally our holidays are insanely...well...insane. However, we're in the States on home leave which limits walking off cliffs in the Himalayans and scuba diving in the Indian Ocean. Instead, after visiting Baltimore, Washington DC, NYC for a morning and driving everywhere in between, we spent the week in the Adirondacks. I'm a New Yorker (because that's the State I've lived in the longest) but I'd never been to the Adirondacks. It's a state park, it's a region of Upstate New York, and it's also a holiday destination in the Northeast.

In the winter, the Adirondacks are for snowmobiling and snow sports. In the summer, vacationers lay in swimsuits around one of the thousands of lakes in the region, soaking up the sun and a good brai. The region survives because of tourism which has been thriving for centuries and lives on despite the recent economic downturn. It's beautiful, so beautiful, and so people drive up for weekends or recent cabins for weeks at a time, and have family reunions in a place preserved for it's natural beauty.

We rented a cabin for a week up at Old Forge which is famous for the "Enchanted Forest" water theme part, fudge shops, woodsy/nature themed decor shops, and the closest IGA grocery shop in the area. It's really adorable. We stayed on Big Moose Lake, went tubing on the lake, went on a seven mile kayak run down Big Moose River, went hiking around nearby Big Moss Lake, and had lots of brais and roasted marshmallows. It was so non-urban...no cappuccinos or Longchamps bags. But I really found myself loving the fresh pine needles and my new red Keens.

That's what overseas dwellers and global nomads do, we try new things and try whatever adventures are nearby to be experienced. It makes us happy. Sometimes you love it and sometimes you don't but you always leave thinking it was interesting...or at least different.

How to Live in Community

I had four completely different yet memorable college living experiences. First, I lived in a suite on a freshmen girls hall. I had my own room and while the girls on my hall had a great time doing fresher activities, I was struggling through my senior level courses and American culture shock. I don't remember much because I was either sleeping or studying. Not my finest moments.

Second, I lived in an apartment. I was going to get straight As that semester. My beloved non-perfectionist housemates were going to have fun. Nothing was ever clean, I did most grocery shopping, we have people over till 3am three nights a week. I chilled out, I had fun, I made it work, and I got my only B that semester.

Third, I lived in an co-ed "intentional community" with nine other people. My mother called it a commune which is a fair assessment...except that we were good Mennonite kids (except one Catholic) so nothing sketchy went down...not including some sketchy meals. That was the hardest semester academically, but it was almost the most fun; watching Winter Olympics, group dinners, board games, lots and lots of guests, and getting to know people very different from myself.

Fourth, I lived in another group house with 13 other people in Washington DC. I should say I ate and slept at that house. I was rarely there between my 30-hour-per-week internship, my beloved road bikes and friends in the city. It wasn't a bad semester, but 14 people is a lot, especially when unlike my previous house, people had vastly different living standards and preferences. So...when in stress...leave....it works.

I found common themes in all my living situations worth remembering because...well...the sky is the limit and who knows who I'll be living next. First, you have to decide what's most important. The dishes washed, the trash taken out, the bathroom cleaned, the floors swept, the compost composted...it's all important but even when the chores are delegated, they don't all get done and you can't do them all. So I picked what matter most to me, and I did it myself. The same applies with housemate behavior, and you make your mental list of non-negotables as small as possible to preserve your sanity. And this is coming from a borderline OCD clean freak.

Second, you have to label your food. Enough said, enough sad corresponding stories.

Third, if you don't feel comfortable, leave. My mini-communities only lasted a semester and when I didn't feel comfortable, I would visit friends or find other places to study. If some of these situations had lasted longer then three months, I would have had to leave. You decide each time if it's worth building bridges, burning bridges...or ignoring bridges.

Fourth, diversity has mixed value. It seems like a fine, noble and progressive idea and we all hope to have diverse friends. Yet it doesn't always work in housing community. It's better to live with people similar to you; similar values, similar hygiene preferences, and similar sleeping hours. It just makes things so much less stressful, and then invite the diverse people over.

Community is kind of a vague term. I did find it. And when I found it, it was glorious. When I didn't...well...you learn to find joy elsewhere.

This Post is for Darrell

I've lived a very fortunate existence. None of my close friends ever passed away. A childhood friend who I'd grown distant from passed away on my 18th birthday, but my existence has been free from the grief of death. None of my close family ever passed away either. For all my life travels, for all our crazy homes, for all the summers coming back to the States (and not coming back for the other 10 months), and for all our rather dangerous vacations, my family sort of stugs sadly and say, "well, at least no one died."

Sadly though, my family has come to deal with death. On 14 August 2010, my Uncle Darrell Hercyk passed away in his sleep from what appears to be sleep apnea. He was 51 years old, living in St George Utah with his wife Julie, and 8-year-old daughter Jessie, working for SkyWest. Darrell still holds many athletic records at Haverling High School in Bath NY, he was an artist deeply inspired by both Dutch Renaissance painting and the Native American art of the Utah West.

Darrell lived in Utah over 15 years so we didn't see him much, though we received many pictures of my cousin Jessie who looks just like him. I feel we might have been better friends because he went through a serious biking phase in his mid-20s before an old lady yanked out of her driveway while he was flying down a rural road, effectively landing him in the hospital and ending his extreme sports days. It was a long time ago though, and Darrell had moved onto family life, minus the mini-van. My family was looking forward his next visit to New York in early-September for another family wedding. It's a difficult time for everyone, and I suppose we're all still in shock as we wrap our minds around the sudden tragedy. "One minute they're there, and the next they're gone." I'd heard this phrase a thousand times. But suddenly it became real, and that's tragic.

So this post is for Darrell, because he made our lives better, and because without him, my family just isn't the same.

How to Love Biking



My Beloved Bike and I went to NYC

Before I bid my 2009-2010 sojourn in the States adieu, I must pay homage to the most influential element of my life. I've spent time in reflection the past few months on memorable experiences here in the States. I met awesome people. I had three great internships. I went to concerts and American cities. I played in snow and golden fall leaves. I loved my Stateside family. I discovered truly good food. I found a religious community with values similar to my own. I even met someone who tolerates my protrusive bubbly global nomad. But what I'll remember most is unquestionably the magic of biking.

2009 and 2010 were dedicated to biking. Anyone who knows this global nomad knows that. Ironically, biking is a departure from my overseas life which was centered in nations where biking although sometimes common was always unsafe and unrealistic. Yet I decided that after my first semester at uni in 2009 that I should obtain a bike in order to reduce commute times around campus. So my aunt gave me a bike her sister-in-law obtained in a raffle in the early 1980s. Somewhere between biking through the rain between my aunt's home in Linville back to uni five miles away (my first bike ride in four years) I knew there was something special about biking. It was love at first ride. 



The original bike that started everything



Transport: People don't use the bike the way the bike is meant to be used. It's a form of transport. It moves you from one destination to another. You can strap a basket on the front or back...or a messenger or a backpack. My bike advocacy friends in Harrisonburg and Washington DC and others like them all across America are promoting biking as an alternative form of clean renewable energy and transport. I embraced it and the freedom that comes with it. Everyone should embrace it. And I lived in a very hilly city as well.



Exercise: I did not have time to exercise much at uni as I was an overachieving student. But I did have to get to the grocery store, and I had to drink coffee every Saturday morning, and I had to get to the bank...so I biked there. On weekends, long rides were in order with one earbud listening to David Crowder Band. Biking is exercise commitment. You can run out and walk back, but you can't bike 20 miles and then walk home. Or you could but it's a real pain.

Happiness: Biking makes me happy. I physically feel good. I feel good about myself. I feel liberated from Pakistani headcoverings, American consumerism and bad Kenyan driving. There's something comforting about two wheels under you, watching the pedals move in smooth constant circles, feeling like you're moving fast but still feeling like the world is at your finger tips. 

Bike advocacy in Harrisonburg VA: Feb 2010





I hope my biking stage hasn't ended. If anything, the beloved Fuji Newest 3.0 I purchased downtown Washington DC this past summer is currently hanging in my parent's garage in Bath New York, awaiting my return. It's not over. I predict that it's only begun. I can't drive a car yet with very little effort, my life is full of transport and travel; bikes, planes, trains, metros, buses and faithful feet. Sometimes things surprise you. Things you don't expect become the most memorable aspects of your life. So the next time you see someone on a bike, think alternatively. Think of me.

How to Experience "Summer Obsessions"

The article below is titled "Summer Obsessions" and was written for Third Way Cafe as part of my summer internship. Maybe it could cross over to my own dear blog.

"My summer has been filled to overflowing in Washington, DC, and marked by several highlights. For a section of the summer, my biggest obsession was undoubtedly football … I mean soccer … I mean World Cup. I love everything about World Cup. I love—for better or for worse—that Africa finally hosted one of the biggest tournaments in the world. I love the hype, the excitement, the crazy fans, the spectacular stories, the drama of red cards, the killer penalty shots, and the joy of players and fans when their dreams come to fruition. World Cup was glorious. World Cup had the world falling before their television sets.

"And then there’s my other obsession. My summer has also been filled with politics and advocacy, interning at the MCC Washington Office. I’ve been engrossed in understanding the world of politics, working groups, Hill visits and research on multiple domestic issues. I love the fast pace, the dedication and passion of the faith-based community, the collaboration of faith-based and church advocacy groups, the constant flow of coffee and unquestionably the people I’ve had the pleasure of working with at the office.

"My two summer obsessions bring to light many of my Mennonite values. Soccer is often called “the beautiful game.” It‘s beautiful to watch the teamwork and collaboration involved and the higher the stakes, the more collaboration and community is formed.

"It’s difficult to call advocacy beautiful like soccer. In general, politics offend my Mennonite sensitivities, which constantly crave collaboration. Yet advocacy brings other Mennonite values to fruition—justice and peace for all—requiring me to value it. Advocacy—like soccer—doesn’t ever end. There’s always more work, more training, and more advocating. Watching people working with constant and undying dedication to justice puts me to shame. I’ve witnessed collaboration and compromise watching churches and faith-based groups work together, which gives me hope that civility exists in the political world.

"My inner Mennonite is acutely aware that both advocacy and soccer can divide people. Yet, at the end of the World Cup final (and all 13 yellow cards) I’m still friends with Spanish fans even if I was passionately cheering on Holland. At the end of the day, in advocacy, we can all agree that we’re trying to make the world a better place even if we differ on the execution of that goal. I love the exuberant outcome at the end of a soccer game and I love the common interests and values we can find in advocacy.

"Perhaps World Cup can teach us acceptance, forgiveness, and how to let a game be a game. Perhaps advocacy can teach us patience, perseverance, compromise, acting out our faith. There are so many lessons to be found in ordinary and extraordinary places, even in our summer obsessions."

How I met Amazing People at College

Now that I'm on the other end of college, I've spent some recent time reflecting on the experience. I invested three years of my life--virtually 24/7--into a piece of paper and an education. I got a mixed bag of returns. The culture shock returning to the States was horrifying. My peacebuilding education was phenomenal. Yet much of what stands out now are amazing people I met who changed my life for the better, who saw the best in met, and who inspired me.

Gloria: Gloria was my academic advisor in the Applied Soci department, and is one of the most amazing people I've ever met. She saw my interests and helped my with classes and projects which fostered these. I wouldn't be in peacebuilding if it wasn't for Gloria, and I wouldn't have graduated if it hasn't been for Gloria or feel understood at EMU.

Terry: Terry is the strangest prof known to man. We'd write down his outrageous comments in our notebooks, such as "terrorism is like porno, you know it when you see it." But Terry understands social movements and international development and he shared his massive practical and academic knowledge in all five classes I took with him. I would not love Mennonite community development if it wasn't for Terry.

Nancy: I never had a class with Nancy but I'm sure I would have loved it. Nancy was my mentor for a peace speech I did and she helped me develop my thoughts into a solid piece. But Nancy is memorable because she's traveled around the world. She's strong, intelligent and humble, even after her promotion as dean of EMU. I aspire to be like Nancy one day.

Sarah: Sarah saved EMU for me. She's the sweetest, thoughtful, sincere, and utterly humble Mennonite farm girl from Idaho turned peacebuilder. She transferred in mid-year, mid-semester like me and listened to me process through all my culture shock. Sarah inspires me to love building peace as much as she does, and that local food and farming is ultimately superior.

Lorraine: Lorraine also save my sanity. The aunt of church members in New York, Lorraine adopted me and saved my soul from disparity. Lorraine took me to church and then back to her home in the Virginia countryside where she would use her professional chef skills for a beautiful lunch. I stayed with her on holidays and I made her home my home. I love Lorraine immensely.

Kaylee: Kaylee was my sounding wall. A non-Mennonite transfer peacebuilding student, we bonded in "History and Philosophy of Nonviolence" and have been inseparable ever since. Together we figured out EMU, and together we survived happily. She became a fixture in my life. Along with Sarah, we constructed the transfer trio, a force of kindness and silent thoughtfulness.

Jakob: I would have never composted before I met Jakob. But when you live in the same house with EMU's composting point-man, well, at the end of the semester I started taking out the compost myself. Jakob helped me rethink sustainability beyond a fad to a lifestyle...and I took back my comments about people from Goshen Indiana.

Mark: Mark was a photography major with three or four minors. I didn't think we'd be friends because our vast political differences but my co-ed house led to some interesting friendships. I learned that respect and civility can cross many differences and lead to good discussions, and that photography is indeed a beautiful art.

Kari: My dear Kari was an art major. All through the spring semester, I watched her paint her senior show in her bedroom, three massively large pieces. Kari's energy is infectious and her joy for art is contagious. I watched that senior show come together and Kari's journey with it, and I saw myself and my own life story. And then we have such a beautiful friendship.

Jon: Jon shouldn't be at the end of this list. Some people think finding a significant other is a mandate of uni attendance. I don't think so, but meeting a precise and thoughtful bio-chem major who appreciates my TCK-ness, makes me very happy. And I can say he's inspired me to appreciate different types of music.

The list could go on...as I write, more people come to mind who have blessed my life and the people I will miss as I venture into the future. And then the benefits of uni instantly seem so much higher.

How I'm going back to Asia

I’ve picked on people who graduated college and had jobs waiting for them. Basically, I’m grossly envious. I told myself, "the world just doesn't work like that anymore. I'm a new generation that graduates unmarried, unattached and unemployed." Yeah...well that was funny of me...but the point stands. I won't have that diploma till August...but I'm employed...and I'm dating...and I can't stop laughing because apparently it's true that God does have a sense of humor.

I was drowning in so much work second semester senior year I had no time whatsoever to thoughts of "post-college life." So I decided to simply graduate (or walk rather) and figure it out later. I’ve spent the summer in DC working for Mennonite Central Committee Washington Office on domestic policy issues. I needed a practicum to fully get that diploma which will be mine in August. I looked around DC and decided that politics and advocacy are just too brutal for my taste. I dislike what divides people, I dislike bashing politicians we don't like and dislike the inaction in general.

MCC was my first choice for future jobs for many reasons; they’re a small grassroots organization, they work at the community level, they’re well respected (even adored) in the peacebuilding world, and they’re faith-based ie. Menno-based. I was more then happy when they expressed interest in my application for a position in Phnom Penh Cambodia. I didn’t think it would actually go through, but it did, rather quickly, and they offered it to me. It’s a three-year voluntary service worker position working with a local non-governmental organization working with families and family systems to promote peace and nonviolence; mediation, facilitation, trauma healing, international development, and qualitative research…all things I adore and one day, I'll maybe even be an expert.

So...NY with family and friends until mid-October when I’ll be down in Akron PA for orientation and I’ll be in Phnom Penh just in time for my 22 birthday early November. Gosh, I am young.

Perhaps I’m most amazed because I get to do exactly what I want to be doing; peacebuilding from the bottom up overseas with funny food, foreign cultures and Menno values (not to mention complete legitimacy in the Mennonite world...which is kind of important...don't ask me why). It’s the right time and I’m increasingly confident it’s the right place. I continue to be absolutely amazed how everything is completely falling into place…and when that happens, you just know good plans, wonderful lessons, and beautiful faces are in store. I'm still processing the knowledge that I won't see so many beautiful people I cherish which is a difficult adjustment. Yet my plan is to return for grad school at the end of my term. And three years...it's not that long when I consider how upon my return I'll still qualify for my parents health insurance coverage under the new health care reform. I am pretty young.

How DC Stacks Up: 2nd Edition

I ended up in Washington DC, again. I knew it was going to happen, and I typically prefer to avoid repeats in living situations, but I'm back in DC. I'm doing an internship (again), taking metro (again), exploring DC's finer arts (again), and taking two classes (unfortunately). Part of attending EMU requires students to do a "cross cultural" and because my life wasn't cross cultural enough, I'm in the Washington Community Scholars Center program killing time, money, summer and final requirements.

Being back in the city a second time brings back thoughts from last summer, it's also leading to some to some new adventures. But when the old and the new collide, it gives rise to some interesting and significant thoughts...at least that's what I think.

1) Politics Reign. Last summer I was in NGO world. This summer, I'm in advocacy world. I'm not sure exactly how I feel about it either. I'm working on education on policy issues which is brilliantly informative, yet I'm in the world of cutthroat partisan politics, and I dislike that. The Hill is a place of power, so there's power in understanding it and learning to play the game.

2) Race Reigns. I noticed race relations when I was in DC last summer, but this summer we're studying it intensively. It's confusing and perplexing to see institutional injustice happening right before my eyes. Images of racist Zimbabwe and Barack Obama's post-racial statements come to mind. What sort of world do we live in?

3) Gentrification Reigns. I didn't realize it last summer but DC is undergoing widespread and radical gentrification, perhaps most noticeably on H St and in Columbia Heights. I didn't notice it last summer because I didn't understand it. Now I realize exactly how much gentrification affects a community both negatively and positively, for whatever it's worth.

4) Heat Reigns. Call it climate change, call it insanity, but DC is so hot this summer. Last summer was unusually mild. This summer is awful. End of story.

5) Bikes Reign. I'm writing a research paper on cycling in DC. I have my beloved new black and red Fuji 2.0 with me. I realized just how popular cycling is becoming, especially as a cheap, healthy, and sustainable form of transport. DC had over 60 miles of bike lanes, tracks and paths and I'm embracing them.

6) Coffee Rules Supreme. I didn't drink much coffee last summer. I went to museums and spent time in solitude. This time, friends in tow, I hit coffee shops...repeatedly...and not Starbucks. It helps when you know people who love finding coffee shops and probably love your reaction...I mean...my reaction to a great cup of coffee is pretty enthusiastic. There's Tryst in Adams Morgan, Ebeneser's at Union, Kramerbooks & Afterwords at Dupont, and Leopolds in Georgetown. Coffee made the summer.

How to Learn to Live Overseas...in College

I'm a great global nomad. I excel at it, partly from so much experience. And then everything I knew about the world collapsed into Americana and because I have white skin, blue eyes and was born in the States, the expectations to conform into a "real American" were enormous. So I walked around my white American university disoriented and confused before deciding to take what I learned Stateside and apply it back to my overseas life. Actually, maybe I just applied my overseas life to the States. It's hard to tell. After all, living overseas is my greatest asset and what I know best.

Be Flexible: It's important to be a flexible human being. It's always super difficult, though I want to say it's more difficult when there are papers at stake. No matter where you are, or when you're there, you have to know when to go with the flow, and not take everything completely seriously. You can even take yourself completely serious all the time because you are a work in progress and every day is a learning experience.

Be Friendly: I learned in uni that people can be super unfriendly. In fact, it shocked me. I learned about in-groups and out-groups and cool-groups and strange groups. I went from core to periphery and back again before creating my own social group. I never went to high school, but this might have been the next best thing. I learned that, like overseas living, being friendly and honest is the best asset as a global nomad. In my nomadic experience (which is rather extensive, sorry), each global nomad has an absolutely amazing story that you don't want to miss. If you wind up totally lonely and miserable, it's your fault, which is ridiculous and unproductive.

Be a good writer: My dad says if you can write, you can eat. (He's older then me so I think he's right.) I studied applied sociology. I wrote. I wrote every single day. I wrote short papers and long papers and boring papers and had no time to write blog entries on subjects which I honestly enjoy. I wrote some pieces I'm proud of and some research projects I honestly enjoyed. And into the future, global nomads do a lot of writing. I shall use my improved writing...at least I think it improved.

How Sabbatical Ended

I wanted to title my post...I'm back...but I'm not entirely sure I'm fully back yet. I think I'm back because I've graduated...I'm not killing myself taking an unreasonably heavy course load, and towards the end EMU put me back in touch with my inner TCK. To be completely honest, I actually tried very hard to join the Mennonite world while at EMU but found it difficult indeed and thus decided to only partly self-identify with this social justice inspired denomination. I'm a TCK, and I will invest entirely into my TCK world...because...just because. I'm back from the dead of college which when completed in three years like I did, can suck dry your very soul. Finishing college means I can probably get back overseas too, and continue learning how to live overseas, obviously.

And so I'm back in DC for the summer to finish out some final requirements for my degree, do and internship with an NGO, and pretend to figure out what to do with my life...because that's what's college graduates have to do...figure out what to do with their lives.

How I Graduated Uni

Technically to be officially considered graduated, you put on a funny looking outfit and you walk up to where the Dean or the President of the university hands you your diploma (if you're American, you smile here) and then, you flip your tassel of your cap to the other side, and that is that. This is the climax of involves years and years of hard work, and a small fortune.

So on 2 May 2010, I did the whole thing. I went up there. I smile. I got the diploma case, and that was that. I really wanted to graduate this year, because 2010 is such a nice round number. Graduating was like getting married for me. I've obsessed about my education and getting this degree was a roller-coaster of countries, emotions, challenging academia, culture shock, and strange food. It's the biggest thing I've done this far, graduating towards the top of my class, and my mom, my grandparents, my aunt and my uncle, and my adopted Aunt Lorraine all came. It was the biggest event of my life thus far, and for once, I was actually proud of myself instead of suppressing feelings that I could have done better or that I underachieved.

I can't honestly say I've quite graduated because...well...I've still got three classes left. So I walked up to the President of EMU, I was handed an empty diploma case (I'm American so I smiled for the pictures because that's what you do over here) and I sat back down. I walked through the interaction ritual, but I'm not going to actually get a diploma until August. I had to do it. I had to walk through the ritual and engage in the tradition because I'm tired, I've put a lot of work into my education and if I didn't do it now. It wasn't ever going to happen. It was a good moment. A memorable moment. A moment I'll infinitely value.

How I took Sabbatical Leave (from Blogging)

It occurred to me of late...rather for a while but I finally got around to formalizing this occurrence...that I've been a poor blogger for quite some time. Senior year of college has been quite the experience. The fall semester finished out well and I moved out of my apartment and into an intentional community house for the spring semester.

I went to New York for Christmas and to Atlanta and Passion 2010 for New Years. I've lived through two major record breaking snowstorms which brought me endless delight watching the huge white flakes pile up and my hours in the classroom plummet thanks to delays and snow days. I planned an intercollegiate peace fellowship conference, I'm preparing to academically publish and I've become more involved in my school and faith communities. I'm a biker chick, a fairly decent cook, an up-and-coming sociologist peacebuilder and a stronger coffee addict than ever.

Now, seven weeks left in my spring semester until the biggest day of my life thus far...college graduation. My mom is coming from Sudan, my grandparents from New York and my aunt and uncle from East Virginia. And then, summer in DC to finish up a final three classes and an internship in the city. Come August, we'll see where this blogger ends up, hopefully in deepest darkest blog inspiring Africa...or Europe because a mean dark espresso can be found there.

Until then, I'm on academic sabbatical, fitting it all those details and classes, and papers, and exams. We'll see how much blogging can happen between now and grad. You'll hear about grad. For sure.