The idea of going to a Gay Pride Parade had terrified me for a very, very long time. Having gone to only one last year, I assumed that overly feminine men and overly masculine women would tromp around in heavy costumery or almost nothing at all. I assumed that everyone who participated in the parade must have been absolutely out of their mind. After all, who would ever walk for 6 plus kilometers in incredibly hot weather and body glitter?
So, of course, when the opportunity to perform in Paris' Pride Parade this year came around, I threw caution to the wind [such was the nature of this year] and agreed to be part of Aquahomo's dance float. Doing so would prove my assumptions wrong [another assumption in itself], or at least attempt to, and embrace everything the gay culture had to offer.
Instead of articulately describing what and who I saw, I present to you several handfuls of snapshots. You'll find realizations at the very end.
What's a queen to do when her float stops playing music?
Start singing herself.
Ah, c'est le fin! A la Bastille!
One major highlight: Watching Kazaky perform LIVE.
... Sadly, without heels, oversized scarves, or onion heads.
Reunited with a tango professor from Buenos Aires at his workshop in Paris!
Here's what I've learned from performing in the Pride Parade:
In a world laced with criticism and disapproval, only the brave love partaking in the occasional demonstration/protest to piss off some a**holes. The Pride Parade doesn't focus solely on being gay, or lesbian, or trans, etc. It's all about taking the time to realize the many facets that make up the jewel you are, and embracing them. You might focus on one, two, or twenty things that you identify with, and spend an entire day parading around in a caricature of that/those facets. And in doing so, you own who you've become.
Yes, there might be 60,000 people oggling you and taking pictures and making videos like you're the albino giraffe at the zoo, but you'd be surprised how much you don't notice them, or even care. Not when you're doing the things and showing off the person you most love.
Once upon a time, in a faraway land close to where you sit, lived a young computer programmer and his wife in a small suburban townhouse. Traveling from an even fartheraway land, the young couple had moved in hopes of raising their children in a land rich with opportunity, hope, income, and monounsaturated fats. Slowly building a stable foundation for a home, the computer programmer and his wife worked tiresome days. Life in the faraway land was hard, but much more inspiring and worthwhile than their even fartheraway homeland.
~*~
"Do not worry, dear wife," the computer programmer said [in the language of his fathers] one day, "for all this hard work will pay off, when we send our children to particularly wonderful academies where they will become exemplary models of society by taking on careers in medicine or law."
In her free time, the computer programmer's wife would tend to the small grove of trees outside their home, where she grew some few fruits. One particularly sunny afternoon on the day of the Earth Festival, as she went to water the trees, she was surprised to find all the plants gone. In their place stood a single mango tree.
"My! Whatever must have happened to my fruits?" She gasped [in the language of her mothers], and before she could run to call the local constables and file a missing persimmon's report, she stopped to listen to the increasingly loud sound of crying. It came from the tree. As she stood underneath its shade, she was taken aback to watch as one of the tree's blossoms opened, and out sprang a baby boy, who landed in her arms. The computer programmer's wife took the child back into the house, where she waited to tell her husband of the good news.
~*~
The young couple declared themselves the proud parents of the baby boy, whose head was covered in an unusual amount of thick hair, dark as a raven's wings and unruly as Britney Spears' career. Fond of constant squirming, shiny objects, staying awake at odd hours, and sweets, one could have mistaken the young child for a woodland creature. As the baby's first birthday - which, they decided, fell on the same day as the Earth Festival - drew near, the computer programmer and his wife sent invitations to all of the village people to meet at the YMCA and partake in the traditional cakes and meats of their homeland.
The baby's birthday was a wonderful one, filled with laughter and music, hairstyles, and shoulder pads from the eighties. The wife, being the social butterfly she was, had even attracted the three local fairy godmothers to attend her baby's birthday. Being godmothers, they of course knew this baby was not like other babies.
"He must be protected," the first godmother said, "so he can become what he was sent to this earth to be. Accordingly, we've decided our gifts will be used for that very purpose. My gift will be the gift of natural wit and humor. May he always use his mind to get out of questionably tight and/or awkwardly uncomfortable situations." She waved her wand over the child.
"My gift," the second godmother said, "will be the gift of health. May he always be fit to take on any physical task, energetic to run on however much calories he has or has not consumed, and enduring to stay up during late hours of the night for hearty partying and/or schoolwork." She waved her wand over the child.
Before the third godmother could give her gift, the great doors of the YMCA blew open, upon whom entered an evil wizard.
"It's quite unfortunate that I wasn't invited to your baby's party. And from what I understand, you wish this boy to become a respectable man of medicine or law? Is that what you wish him to be, what you hope will make him and yourselves happy? Not if I can help it, being the antagonist with a brief cameo! Therefore my gift," he said, drawing out his wand, "will be that the boy will grow up as a beast from this day forth! Not only will he grow up in ridicule for his looks, fashion sense, poor eyesight, and questionable life choices, he'll also suffer poor orthodontics. He'll never be happy! Oh, and to ensure it, your family will suffer misfortune as well." The wand was waved and the wizard vanished.
"Not to worry, I still have my gift," the third godmother said, "but I cannot remove the curse. True, the baby will grow up as a beast. But the curse will be removed if he can find happiness." She waved her wand, and all three godmothers disappeared from the party.
"That was ever so vague a gift," the computer programmer said to his wife, "But I'll assume that by finding happiness, she must mean that he'll earn loads of money by being a man of medicine or law. Besides, one doesn't need to be particularly good-looking to receive a proper education."
~*~
~*~
As the years passed, the baby grew into a young adult. Firmly believing that no cursed Beast son of his would become subject to bullying or shipwrecks , the Beast's father enrolled him into karate and swimming classes. Sure enough, the Beast swiftly became an outsider amongst his peers with his secondhand clothes, his spectacles, lack of athletic ability, and orthodontic apparel. Unlike the other boys in his class, he preferred to read literature, create art, solve puzzles, and generally apply himself to the school's science club. All of this raised the Beast's father's hopes in becoming a great man of medicine [this and the fact that his wife had given birth to a daughter, uncursed by a wizard, who would double the family's chances of success]. As the wizard prophesized, the computer programmer had soon fallen victim to the faraway land's economic crisis, lost his job, and became a small sandwich shop owner.
Of course, this merely meant that the Beast would work in the store, where he would roll sandwiches, sweep floors, and deliver food in poorly decorated automobiles instead of partaking in underage alcoholic shenanigans, like so many of his peers.
Yes, the wizard succeeded in shattering the Beast's self-esteem. At family gatherings, many guests would comment on his sister and cousin:
"My, look at the daughter! How she looks so much like her mother. How beautiful."
"Ah! And her cousin! How she too looks so much like her mother. Beautiful as well."
But when they looked at the Beast?
"Oh. And this is the son."
One day in the sandwich shop, the Beast asked his mother and father, "Mother, Father, when will I cease to be so beastly?"
"When you find happiness," his mother said as she sliced bell peppers.
"That's what the fairy godmother said, so we can only assume that's when you bring honor to your ill-fated family" piped up his father over the ham slicer.
The Beast found this particularly strange. Having always read fairy tales, he was sure that true love's kiss would break a curse. And, considering he wasn't waiting atop a tower, the Beast hesitated about asking if the 'happiness' he had to find was a someone rather than a something. Never considering himself particularly prince-ly or heroic, the Beast continued to place cheddar on bread, pondering where he could find happiness.
~*~
One day during his first year, whilst running for a physical improvement course at his academy, the Beast was almost knocked into concussion by a rogue basketball [thrown by an ogre and his band of horrid ogres who were much more physically developed for their age].
"Oh athletics!" the Beast cried to the heavens, "Why must you be my downfall in higher learning?!?!?!"
"Fear not, dear Beast," a soft voice said. The Beast turned, and saw a fairy godmother appear where the basketball had landed. "There is a way for you to avoid taking any more of these unnecessary so called 'physical education' classes. If you truly want to grow, join the circus performers. Dance with them."
"But they would never take me! I've never performed, nor danced before!" the Beast exhasperated.
"I can help with that. I helped you once, and I will help you again. After all, it's where you're meant to be. You'll never have to lie in the dangerous shadow of any more basketballs. However, because your state is one of few in that requires 4 years of physical education, you'll still be forced to participate in unnecessary physical examinations [involving an ridiculous amount of running, situps, pushups, and stretches] twice per year."
"Oh, thank you, Fairy Godmother!" The Beast fell to his knees. "I'll be forever grateful to... to... to..."
And thanks to Orchesis, the Beast did in fact befriend a considerable number of creatures, persons, and imaginary hallucinations in the faraway land's local high school's circus ring. Here, he met mysterious persons from foreign lands, giants, little people, rhinestone artists, princesses, fortune tellers, chefs who cooked bugs, and even the occasional hypochondriac. 'Twas amongst this motley group of performers the cursed beast decided to best use his talent of poor public speaking skills, martial arts body awareness, and general lack of self-esteem in the art of dance.
"My, I'm doing wonderfully courageous and different things for a Beast my age," the Beast said to himself one day, "and no doubt I've enjoyed it, with the eclectic group of friends I've made. But why am I still so Beastly?" He frowned at his reflection in the mirror. Happiness hadn't hit him yet.
~*~
~*~
Nearing the end of his high school career, four years later, the Beast's family was hit with yet more trauma and turmoil from the wizard's curse. Due to poor location, terrible seasons, and lack of karaoke participants, the sandwich shop had closed and the Beast's father had been stricken with heart disease [the even fartheraway land's traditional meals held a surprisingly high level of cholesterol]. The Beast's mother had sold herself as slave to an evil department store corporation, leaving the Beast and his sister to fend for themselves in the rapidly deteriorating townhouse.
"But... But... But how will I afford college? Can I even apply?" the Beast cried in agony one afternoon.
"Mayhaps, dear Beast Brother," his sister replied, "I can quit school and take up lanyarding or churning butter or embroidery and earn money for your education."
"Fear not, dear Beast," a heavenly voice said, and the Beast and his sister turned to see yet another one of his godmothers. "Like Orchesis, I can help your life. There is a way to get a proper education, given your current situation. Apply, and I will help get you into the right schools. After all, it's where you're meant to be."
"Oh, thank you, Fairy Godmother!" The Beast jumped for joy. "I'll be forever grateful to... to... to..."
And thanks to Fafsa, the cursed Beast did get into a school, and a very special one at that. Located even farther away from his home, in the frozen lands of the north, lay a quiet and hidden academy for intellectually and/or monetarily gifted youngsters. Here, the students were considerably different than the ones in his high school and circus group. Although the diversity in this academy was roughly the same as his high school's, the tolerance was considerably higher. 'Twas amongst the peers here that the Beast began to accept his and other physical and mental differences with a reasonably liberal frame of mind and attitude.
"My, I've earned the incredible chance of going to an esteemed instution to further my personal growth and education," the Beast said one day, "and no doubt I've enjoyed it, with the all-night paper writing, the delicious all-you-can-eat buffets, the rush for greater academic understanding, several failed attempts at relationships, and the uneasy levels of racism and homophobia on campus. I've made friends who will last for my entire life, not-friends who pushed me in all the right directions, un-friends who made me realize what constitutes a friend, and the occasional fleeting friend who I'm sure would have been a best if we hadn't been together for just a moment. But why am I still so beastly?" Again the Beast frowned in the mirror. Happiness was doing a good job of hiding itself.
~*~
Before he knew it, four years had passed at the academy, yet the Beast still remained a Beast. Graduation swiftly approached, and the Beast had come to two realizations.
"I don't want a career in medicine AND I don't have a job for post-graduation! This will be my ruin!" the Beast cried, tearing some hairs from his scalp.
"You can always live with your parents back in their cottage," one of his chambermates said.
"Or you can just move to the metropolitan area without a job and find one once you're there," another chambermate suggested.
"OR you can sign away two years of your life to the Peace Corps, where you'll only have five days of vacation in the entire time to see your family and friends," the final offered.
"They all sound like the rustlings of Death's robes!" the Beast threw himself upon the nearest oversized cushion.
"Fear not, dear Beast," a heavenly voice said, and the Beast and his chambermates turned to see the third of his godmothers. "Like Orchesis and Fafsa, I can help your life. There is a way to live after the supposed best four years of your life;to which, I must say, if it were true, I would be highly disappointed. See the world and do what you love for one year. Apply, and I will help you travel to lands of which you and your family have dreamed! After all, it's where you're meant to be."
One year? Could it be true? This would give him some time to figure things out...
"Oh, thank you, Fairy Godmother!" The Beast fainted upon her lap. "I'll be forever grateful to... to... to..."
And thanks to Watson, the cursed Beast did get to travel and to do what he loved. Inhaling the smells of the east, swimming in the southern oceans, coasting along red-dusted plains, and wandering the brightly lit streets at night, the Beast felt... different. In his journeys, he had met friends, made family, and learned from would-have-been-enemies-in-another-life. A certain rush filled his lungs evertime he set foot on a street he had never walked before, entered a restaurant or bar alone, and saw the sun rising and setting from a new horizon.
"My, I've earned the chance to travel to foreign lands where I will certainly unearth some long-harbored secrets and experience scary but refreshing awakenings," the Beast said one day, "and I've no doubt enjoyed it, with experienced chilied foods, stranger hospitality, dressing in women's clothing, hostile partners, and questionable skin deisease. All this, I had the chance to do while studying, doing, living what I love. But why am I still so..." the Beast didn't finish his sentence. He stared at the mirror, and noted that some things did change. No, he didn't turn into a prince [unlike most Disney movies, but he was certainly considering his followed the Dreamworks/Pixar route] with golden curls and a square jawline. The Beast saw himself, still as a Beast, but only a few years older. What did change was the way he looked at himself, his life, his world. There was only so much that he couldn't control, but so much more that he could [with the help of fair godmothers, of course].
Living with what he was given, it was time to stop trying to change everything he was and to start changing the way he lived. The Beast was done lying in wait for someone to save him, to remove the curse he was given since birth. He was done doing what was expected from him, and to follow that twist in his stomach and shiver down his back. He now realized that finding happiness, but the act of looking for it that would make him stop feeling like the Beast his life made him out to be.
~*~
~*~
Far from everything and everyone familiar, he knew now that whatever happened, happened for a reason. He might not have been a prince, or even the hero, but in this story, the only person he could save was himself. Wherever this chain of events lead him, he followed, and it all surprisingly turned out very well. The Beast wouldn't know if it lead towards happiness, or if it was all just an awakening to the fact that somewhere down the line,
he. could. find. it.
Maybe it would happen this year, or maybe it wouldn't. Yet. But the Beast got an unsettlingly good feeling that he had already begun to change, to be a little less
"Is there anything you want to say to 2011 while you still have the chance?"
The question fell out of the radio speakers and landed on Our Hero's lap one Boxing Day afternoon; The Host, driving the car and utterly oblivious to what had happened in the passenger seat, continued flipping through the stations.
Our Hero stared at the question as it wrapped its tendrils around his stomach, settled into a comfortable position, and looked up into the traveler's eyes as if to say,
This might take a while.
-||-
"If you could, what would you change about yourself?"
"You mean, right now? Like, if I had a switch for it?"
The Host took a drag on his cigarette, blew it into a stream away from Our Hero, and nodded.
Our Hero paused for a moment to recollect the quote he had seen a few weeks ago, and recited,
"There once was a man who became unstuck in the world.
He took the wind for a map,
He took the sky for a clock,
And he set off with no destination.
He was never lost."
"Where did you hear that?"
"Someone wrote it on a pillar in the hostel kitchen back in Byron Bay," Our Hero said, squinting off and staring into the garden, "I really liked it. Still do."
The Host took another drag, waiting for Our Hero to continue.
"Philip, I want to become unstuck. In light of everything we talked about, I just want to stop caring."
"Stop caring?"
"About what people think. You were right when you said that I hold myself back. A lot. It sucks."
"And you know its keeping you from growing, from changing."
"So we're pretty set on heading to the beach on New Years Eve? Probably 7 or so in the evening?" Jesse asked.
Matt nodded in agreement, and Our Hero agreed by rubbing in more sunblock.
"And what about afterwards?"
"I don't know," Matt said, "I think we were pretty keen on getting back into town and probably going to a pub. Josh has been to Mars a few times, how about we go there?"
"Look at you, Josh. You have a haunt here already."
It was true, Our Hero had been to that bar on several occasions since he had arrived in Adelaide. He couldn't help it; the bar was the first to which he was introduced in Australia, and the one in which he had met a considerably diverse collection of characters [including an ex-circus performer in a wheelchair, a part-time go go dancer and first year dance student, a woman who had moved to Adelaide because the job market in Chicago was terrible, and a drag queen named Malt Biscuit]. Our Hero wouldn't turn down the chance of going back to Mars, although Jesse's choice of words had slapped him across the face at the last second.
You have a haunt.
As expressed before, Our Hero had despised the idea of developing habits, running in circles, becoming predictable. The idea of anchoring himself to one place during a year like this was more than undesirable and embarrassing, it was
so
terribly
like
himself.
-||-
Maybe this would be the first year he would follow his resolution, whatever he decided it would be.
He didn't want this feeling to stop, whatever this feeling was. Feeling like he was in the right place at the right time, doing the things and meeting the people he needed to, hearing, seeing, and learning things that would help sculpt him into the Prince he was destined to become. worldlyfearlessconfidentsereneexperiencedknowledgedserene. Feeling that fire inside rage every day, every time he practiced, every time he saw a performance, every time he felt the hard wooden floor beneath his feet vibrate from too much bass.
He wondered what it would be like when this would all stop.
That is, if it would.
He, Our Hero, The Boy, The One who would lose then find his way in India, who was adopted and beloved in Uganda, who smelled of sunblock and tasted of sea salt in Australia hoped this would never end. The destiny he had chosen had taken him this far, and for the first time in his life, he would dare to see how much farther this rabbit hole would go.
-||-
When 2011 would leave, he wasn't exactly sure what he would say. Goodbye? Thanks for the ride? Call me? 2011 would always be a landmark; he had always known it would be the year he left college, entered the real world. But what came after that? What happened after the end? He never would have guessed he would be traveling, dancing, living.
This past year was all about knowing what would happen next, having a plan, and watching as it all fell into place. 2012 should be different. And it would. Everything was already changing; why should he let it stop now? If there was any time to let it all go...
To play whilst reading. [ I know, I know. The Frank Sinatra version is my favorite, and in my opinion the best. But hey, why not go for something a little alternative this year? ]:
| Far Away |
He knew his troubles were far, somewhere beyond the sea. Wherever he was now, [ uncle: "Hello joshua. Where are you this time?" ], he was living. Living. As much as he didn't want to admit it, he would.
I don't remember being this happy.
Yes, this year had plenty of setbacks. But wasn't that all part of the experience? Missed appointments, wandering for kilometers, questionable healthcare, shattered self-confidence, and insecure isolation were all absorbed and relished. In the long run. Sure, he could have gotten this back at home, but instead, it was all in india/uganda/australia. For the first time in his life, he could do everything without regret. Win and lose, it was everything he ever wanted and more.
So why ask for anything this Christmas?
| Golden Days |
All was golden. He realized, as soon as he had landed in Australia, that the fuzzy heartwarming feeling of Christmas wasn't going to come, not this year. What he didn't expect, however, was how fine he'd be without it. Maybe it had something to do with the trips to the beach, the optimistic sun constantly blaring, the moments in which his nasal cavities had enough ocean water, the hilarious accents, and the incredible talent he had seen onstage, offstage, and everywhere in between. Although he didn't want to say it out loud, he knew that somewhere deep down, he missed snow, Christmas trees, and hot cocoa.
He was getting everything he needed, that much was obvious.
What he wanted, however, was certainly lacking.
| The Fates |
He remembered his mom always telling him, "If it doesn't happen, it's wasn't meant to happen. It will when it does." And although there was more than enough pressure from his host parents to have an Aussie Flame before he left - and remember, the Christmas season is during the summer; ergo, it would be considered a summer fling - he just didn't see that happening.
Really, he was okay with that.
Cutting back on expectations was a HUGE part of the things he'd learned during his few months abroad, and it was proving to make this trip even more incredible than it already was. In addition to decreasing his chances of disappointment, it was teaching him how to deal with it. And to be honest, the world was chock full of it.
What he needed would come to him, and what didn't come to him taught him to wait. Everything would get better in time. And the interesting thing was, as soon as he didn't get what he'd want... Something else would fall out of the blue and tell him that it happened
for
a
reason.
| Near to Us |
He knew that his back was always covered. The invisible hands of friends and family back home and around the world would always be there to catch him. Small messages here and there were more than enough to remind him that somewhere, someone was waiting for him.
Everyone deserves to know that.
They would tell him what he needed to hear, not what he wanted. He would be told the right thing at the right time. It was the ones who mattered the most that ended up surprising him. And it was these for whom he would momentarily allow himself to feel homesick.
| Now |
This wasn't the most well thought out post, but I guess I haven't really been writing in this very often. It's not that nothing is happening right now... things are always happening. I guess it's just that I haven't really been interested in writing in this. It's kind of exhausting. And as with most people who keep a blog while they're abroad, there's always a sudden decline in how much they write. To wriggle against that, I guess I've just decided to slap together something in honor of the holidays. Sorry for the inconsistency/lack of comprehension/elements of a train of thought. But if you've gotten this far, hey, I think I've entertained you enough.
In short, I'm still having an incredible time. Difficult, hilarious, gut-wrenching, smile-making, but most of all incredible.
Merry Christmas, Friends.
[ Gifted ]
p.s. Oh, I took a day of dance workshops a couple of weeks ago, and this was a song used by one of the teachers at Adelaide College of the Arts. A new addition to my growing list of favorite life songs. Enjoy.
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.
