One Day

 

"Joshua," he remembered his mother saying to him, a very, very, long time ago, "One day we'll go to Europe.  You, me, Daddy, and Kikay."  She looked back to the TV screen, where a young cartoon woman began to cry as she reunited with her long lost grandmother.  He remembered not taking his mother seriously, only being interested in finding another peanut butter jellybean somewhere in the bag they bought earlier that afternoon.

"Aye, my god.  Paris...  London...  It's always been my dream to go to all those places before I die.  We'll go.  One day.  Maybe.  When we win the lottery."

Many, many years later, as he pedaled his way past the Arc de Triomphe, past the Louvre, and past la Bastille, this tiny fragment of a memory, however minimally detailed, surfaced to his conscience.  Almost colliding with a parked car, he pulled into an alley and locked his bicycle.

He had fallen in love with the City, that much was obvious.  Throughout his travels, he never regretted any of the places he had gone, but was always asked,

Why did you choose to go there?

His initial answer was simple:  I want to touch each continent before I die.  Upon further consideration, he realized that different reasons brought him to different countries.  India:  where he would experience sensory overload.  Uganda:  where he would learn to appreciate a much more simple life.  Australia:  where he would find how much more he needed to grow.  Argentina:  where he would experience passion, firsthand.  But France?

Where he would live a dream - his or his mother's, that wasn't clear - at the end of a dream year.  Why the rest of his family never made it to Europe, he couldn't exactly understand.  He had made it here without the lottery [although the definition of lottery was now in debate], accomplished before the end of the first quarter of his life.

"Don't worry about your mother," Betty said in Argentina, "If she didn't travel somewhere, she had her own reasons."

As he walked past the patisserie full of macaroons and tartelettes, he couldn't help but think, How fair is it that I got to live her dream before she did?  A tiny pang of guilt tugged at his stomach.  

In Australia, Philip had once expressed hesitation in becoming a parent.  "I think the real challenge in being a parent," he argued, "would be to help my child find happiness.  And if my son or daughter could say one day that they found happiness, I know I'd have done my job."

Later that night, he would take his camera out of his bag and snap a picture of himself with a flower-shaped cone of gelato.  Maybe it was the mix of raspberry and chocolate, or maybe it was the first night that felt like summer, or maybe it was just the good company with whom he had dinner.  Happiness had been sitting there with him so far this year, and he was sure that it wouldn't leave afterwards.

Maybe knowing that would be enough for her.

[Living There TOday]

Next of Kin

NOTE:  As per usual, a long story.  The case in point may be found at the very bottom of the post.

| email 1 |

Joshua,

Can you send me your address there [in Australia]?  I [happen to] have some friends/relatives there.  They might be able to meet you if you're close to where you're staying.

Love,

Dad

| internal monologue 1 |

NO WAY.

| email 2 |

Joshua,

Your Auntie Nora lives 15.62 km|9.71 m from you.  About 25 mins. by car according to Google maps.

Love,

Dad

| internal monologue 2 |

NO WAY.  What were the chances?  Additionally, how many random relatives will my dad keep a secret until the most opportune moment?

| phone call part 1 |

Joshua:  Auntie! - Auntie? - Nora!  We finally got in touch!

Nora:  Yes, Joshua!  ...So, how are we related?

| online chat 1 |

Cass:  I didn't know you had family in Australia.

J:  Me neither.

C:  Magno, you have to meet this woman.

J:  I know, it'd be good to meet some family members I've never met before.

C:  How is she related to you?

J:  No idea.  I guess I'll find out when I meet her.

C:  Mmm.  And your dad's not sure?

J:  I don't think so.

C:  Wow.

J:  It didn't really sound like my dad spoke with her a lot.

C:  What if there was a kind of family schism?  Drama?  One half didn't talk to the other?

J:  I don't think we're that kind of family.

C:  You never know.  Who knows how many secrets the Magno family harbors?

J:  Like I said, we're not that kind of family.

| phone call part 2 |

J:  And you?  What are you doing here in Adelaide?

N:  Well, I used to be a full time bartender at the Hilton Hotel in Victoria Square.  Now, I'm a full time lecturer at Adelaide Hospitality & Tourism School.  I teach 40 students 5 days a week on how to mix drinks and deal with rude customers.  Oh, and I just won a three year scholarship to live and study to be a hotel manager for the Australian equivalent of a very fancy Swiss Hotel.

J:  Jeez.

N:  Yep.  I guess winning awards runs in the family.  You can tell your father that.

J:  Will do.

N:  Oh,  and I have three sons you have to meet.  One is 16, one is 10, and the other is 9.  I guess that makes you their cousin.  Or is it uncle?  I don't know.  Oh, how's the economy in the US by the way?

| meeting |

N:  Ah!  So I finally figured it out!  How we're related...  Your father is my cousin, I think, because his mother and my mother are cousins.

J:  So we're not even sure if we're actually blood related?

N:  No, but I'll ask my mom again.

David [Nora's partner]:  So we're not even sure if you're his aunt.

N:  No, Sweetheart.  We Filipinos call even the most distant relatives our Auntie or Uncle or Niece or Nephew.

D:  I'm not sure that's how it works.

J:  So how'd you do it?  You know, move to Australia, get into the bar tending scene, then all of a sudden go up into hotel management?

N:  Through hard work.  You must know that already.  But it's doable.  Not easy, but doable.  Why?  Are you thinking of moving here?  How's the economy in the US?

J:  The economy...  Well, if I were to have stayed at home, all I would be doing right now is being sad and jobless.  So yes, it makes sense to come here.

D:  You know, Josh, Australia is the only country in the world where you can be unemployed, and you'll still have a home, be able to send your kids to school, and put food on the table.

J:  How?
D:  The government funds all of it.

J:  You're sure?
D:  I would hope so.  I work for it.

N:  Joshua, it's easy to come here.  Especially if you want to study.

J:  Even dance?  I'm almost considering going to a TAFE school here, maybe even getting a bachelor's in dance performance.  You know, getting official dance training.

N:  Yeah!  You could do that, IF YOU WANT.  Here, a TAFE education costs about a quarter of the price of going to a university, but you're actually getting an applied education, not just one in theory.

J:  ... I don't know.  It just sounds like it'll be more expensive because I'm a foreign student...

N:  So move here!  It's easy, especially since you're an American citizen.  Your points will be higher.  All you need to do is apply for a job here - David and I can even help you with that, if you ever want to bar tend or maybe even work for the government - so you have a working visa [I think you need to be contracted here for a two year job], but once you arrive, you can apply for permanent residency.  Then you'll get all the Australian government privileges, especially the ones under the TAFE schools.  Oh, you won't be able to vote, but who cares about that?

J:  Wow.  You make it seem so...

N:  Easy?  That's because it is.  Australian life is better, Joshua.  The cost of living is cheaper, and the government can help you in so many ways.  There are jobs just waiting to be had, but if you really wanted it, I can help get you a job or David can.  That's what family's for.  And since these jobs pay enough so that you can easily support yourself, you'll be able to apply and attend for ACArts like you want.  

J:  Like I want.

N:  Really, that's just the point of it all, and it's exactly what I did.  You just have to set a date for yourself - let's say two weeks after you go back home to the US - and just decide on what you want to do.  Then do it.  But for now, finish your year.  Do what you had set out to do on this scholarship.  It might change by that time.

| internal monologue 3 |

NO.  WAY.

| Case in Point |

It was at this very moment He realized that it was more than just coincidence that the third|senior and second|junior year dance show at ACArts was presented one week after he had arrived, and that his father just happened to have family in Adelaide.  Seeing it all was enough to convince him that this was something he wanted, and if she spoke the truth, He was determined to work for it.  After all, moving to Australia didn't sound like such a terrible plan after this year, did it?

[ Nora's Mother's Cousin's Son's Son ]

Afoyo Matec

In Acholi: Thank you so much.

Nothing creative today, just a list of what I'm thankful for.  You know, because it's that holiday.

[1]  Framilends. Family and Friends, because they're not really separate.  This one is obvious, at least in my book.  Really, everyone, thanks a ton for always keeping in touch, however much you can.  It makes this trip a lot less lonely, which it often does become.  I know the fellowship folks highly stress limiting the amount of time on facebook/email/skype/gchat, but the few times I do get in touch with you, it really does make you feel not so far away.

[2]  Eccentricity.  According to one professor who lives next to me, I have plenty of it.  Most likely, it got me where I am, which isn't really in a terrible place.  Additionally, children tend to love it, more likely laugh at it, and everyone just has a good time.

[3]  Electricity.  We don't get a lot of it here, and when we do, there's a small part of me that that prays to the power gods for granting us a few hours of non-candle, computer-charging, and vision-able shower time.  As I'm typing this, I have about half an hour left of battery, so the pressure's on to finish and publish this before I'm submerged in the dark vacuum of communication that is Uganda.

[4]  Pineapple.  It's incredible here.  Certainly puts American fruits to shame.

[5]  G-Nut Paste.  Essentially homemade peanut butter with sesame seeds.  Also incredible, and also puts American peanut butter to shame.

[6]  Music.  Keeps a part of America trucking along with me, but I'm also collecting a small pool of songs from the countries in which I'm staying.  Ergo, amazing life playlist is slowly but surely being constructed.

[7]  Anti-Diarrhea Pills and Non-Squat Toilets...  Self explanatory.

[8]  Sending Mail.  I LOVE THIS.  Whether it's snail, e, or messages on facebook, writing makes [and I'm repeating myself at this point] this trip a lot less lonely, and time is really killed faster.  I'm also having a crazy fun time attempting to send postcards, which I imagine to be kind of like shooting a shotgun at a flock of geese and doves and hoping the bullets make it to only the doves.  Not that I'm shooting you.  Maybe with love.  Which brings me to

[9]  Receiving Mail.  I don't want to compare, but this care package [also probably breaking the 'limit communication' rules of the fellowship, but hey, I'm sure it must happen all the time] came in yesterday.  Postcards, homemade brownies/fudge [I could never tell the difference between the two], a traditional Madeiran stock pouch [what? safety belt?], CHRISTMAS TINSEL, and FLOSS.  Ah, my hygiene has yet to be compromised on this trip.  Regardless, even if you don't send me an awesome spring-loaded cardboard box full of things I love, a simple email just telling me about what I'm missing in your life right now is enough.  I might be traveling, but I certainly don't want to be kept out of the loop while I'm away.

-| It's not that I now love Cassie more than you, but... |-

[10]  Travel.  I know this one's super obvious and also not very creative, but this has to be the craziest thing  I've done [so far] in my life.  And I'm loving every minute of it.  I'm changing in [what I think is] all the best ways possible, and I'm learning a TON about the world, myself, strangers, and how much people at home will always mean to me.

[11]  Water.  Whether its cold, hot, drinking, or flushing.  Travel to a third world country and you'll realize how much you need this fantastic fantastic liquid running through you.  Not that I didn't before.

[12]  Humility.  I guess I didn't really know what this was like until I started break dancing, and a flock of small Ugandan ten year-olds laughed at me just moving my feet.  Sure, there's that pang of frustration and wanting to stop immediately, but you learn to deal with it, ignore it, roll with it, not care about it, or even prove them wrong.  I'm a firm believer that knowing how to be super embarrassed is good for the soul, the mind, and the ego.

[13]  Hellos.  You'll never know how much a stranger will help you out, or will end up playing an incredibly important role until you greet them.  I've met photographers, doctors, firemen, nurses, surrogate families, teachers, friends, mentors, and incredible advice-givers because we decided to greet each other.  Try it sometime.  You'll be surprised how far it takes you.

[14]  Goodbyes.  You'll never know how much someone means to you until you say these, and realize how much you don't want to leave them.

UPDATE | [15]  Haircuts.  From nuns.  Losing the heat helmet, especially on the equator, is more than enough reason to celebrate by hopping on the next boda into town, feel the wind on your scalp, and be slightly jealous that the local hair style is shaved.

UPDATE | [16]  Insistent Surrogate Mothers.  Especially when they're really pushy to clean your backpack covered in dirt from India and Uganda.  Although the sentimentality is washed away, you can't help but appreciate that it's because of the maternal need for cleanliness that's keeping your bag looking like it's just been bought from the store.

 

UPDATE | [17]  Vision.  Oh, and I get to see things like the one below on a regular basis.  Of course the camera doesn't capture it perfectly, so imagine it to be 10,000x more awesome.

[Thankful]

Announcing

-| two and a half months ago |-

Auntie [clutching her heart, as if experiencing an attack]:  Aye, my god.  Are you sure?

Joshua:  Of course, Auntie.

A:  Is it not sape dere?

J:  I'm pretty sure I will be.

A:  Aren't dere gahngs?  Or drahgs?  Or biolehnce?  Or robbery?

J:  Auntie, there are gangs, drugs, violence, and robberies in America.  Don't worry, I'll be fine.

A:  Aye, my god.  Where are you going pirst?

J:  First, I'm going to India.

A:  And teerd?

J:  Well, I might stay in Africa for a while...
A:  Aye, my god.
J [continuing]:  ... I was supposed to go to Egypt as my third country (but as you know, many bad things are happening there), but I think I might go to South Africa or Australia instead.  Then France, London, and Argentina.

A [picking up her Yorkshire Terrier and holding him close to her chest]:  Aye, just go straight to Prance.  It's nicer dere, no?  People are nicer dere?

J:  Auntie, I'm pretty sure France has a lot of gangs, drugs, violence, and robberies too.

A:  Aye, my god.  What ip you get mahgged?

J:  Then I'll dance for money, Auntie [proceeds to bend over and seductively roll up his jeans.]  

A:  Joshua, I'm not keeding.

J:  I'm not bringing that much with me, auntie.  I'll have a place to stay, where I can keep most of my stuff safe.

A [squeezing the Yorkie, then swallowing some sleeping pills with coffee]:  Aye my god.  You're skehring me.  Imagine what you're mom is apraid op.  Den multeeply dat times ten.  Dat's how I peel.

J:  ... Are you sure about that?.

A:  Ob course!  Can't you change your plans?

J:  Yes, auntie, but I don't want to.

A:  Aye, why not?  Why do you hab to go dere?

J:  It's just something I want to do.  Something I have to do.  Don't worry Auntie, Uganda is going to be great.

-| August 25, 2011 |-

Hello Joshua,

Thanks for traveling with Orbitz.  This email confirms the ticket number(s) issued for the "Entebbe 10/2/11" trip.

Sunday, October 2, 2011:  Bangalore Hindustan to Dubai.
Monday, October 3, 2011:  Dubai to Addis Ababa Bole.

Monday, October 3, 2011:  Addis Ababa Bole to Entebbe.

Watch out, Uganda.

[J:]

Safety Dance!

Good news, friends!  My laptop's battery just died from its four-year life span!  A fresh, somewhat-generic-bootleg battery is now feeding my laptop as I type.

Additionally, I've FINALLY received confirmation from the company in India about my stay.  They've given me the okay, and have started looking for my accommodations.  Wait, what did you say, Mahantesh?

"We'll start looking for a room for you to stay in, with your own bed, possibly within the company's facilities.  We have a campus, did you know that?  Maybe we can find you a private shower, bedroom, and sink.  You know, just so you're as comfortable as possible while you stay with us."

I wonder how long I can cross my fingers before paralysis or arthitis settles in.

On to other things!  As of recently, some dear friends of mine - and parents, as well - have expressed concerns on the actual safety portion of my trip.  For instance, apparently it is a REALLY BAD IDEA to wear a safety pouch, regardless of its flesh-tone polyester/silk fabric and waist-hugging fit..  Growing curious about such guidelines and their accuracy, I've decided to reference The Rough Guide to First Time Travel Around The World.  Below are the most interesting ones, and my thoughts on them:

HOW TO AVOID BEING ROBBED:


[]  "With just a backpack and no carry-on bag, you have both your hand free and can remain mobile for a quick getaway or to give pursuit, so robbing you looks like more of a challenge."

[]  "... consider disguising your pack in developing countries... Plastic rice bags are easy to find, dirt cheap, decrease the perceived value of the pack's contents, and make great rain covers... cut two slits for your shoulder straps, then sew or use duct tape to fasten."

AVOIDING DANGEROUS AREAS:


[]  "No matter where you are, get in the habit of checking over your shoulder and across the street every now and then."

[]  "Otherwise, walk with confidence.  When you're in an area you're not sure of, resist the temptation to pull out your map on the street corner.  Walk purposefully, even if lost, and duck inside a coffee shop or store to study the map or ask directions."

[]  "Also, get in the habit of avoiding the tables near doors or bordering sidewalks in cafes...  Keep your bag under your table while you eat, with the strap around your leg.  If you need to use the toilet, take your bag along."

[]  "Take a few extra precautions in trains and bus terminals, where many pickpockets lurk...  walk around the perimeter of the station instead of crossing it to so you can keep a wall on one side and your eyes on anyone approaching."

ACCOMMODATION SAFETY:


[]  "... treat your passport pouch like your spleen: sleep with it (or put it in your pillow case) and take it along when you shower - you can hang the pouch on the hook, just under your towel inside the shower stall."

HOW TO AVOID SEXUAL HARASSMENT:


[]  "Dress conservatively... Shorts, short skirts and tight-fitting clothes are likely to denote you as promiscuous.  While you're at it, pick up a cheap, simple ring.  You'll need a story to go with it - something about your husband coming to meet you in a day or two."

-  The Rough Guide to First Time Around the World

In a nutshell:  I'm going to have to run like hell with my backpack hidden in a rice bag while sporadically checking over my shoulder and across the street confidently against a train station wall.  My passport, as an internal organ, can filter red blood cells but also must hang on the wall while I shower, along with my clothes designed by Laura Ingalls Wilder while I wait for my husband to return to me.

OR:  Handle things the way my mom says to: "Neber, eber, EBER trust anyone.  Not da neighborrs, not da kids, not da workers.  NO ONE.  Oh, and put on your Pacebook eberyday 'Mom, I'm okay.'  Okay?"

Great.

[Jmags]