Day 34 - Washington D.C.

Reasons why I would love to live in Washington D.C....

(in no particular order)

1. D.C. has two great international airports, from which I can get to anywhere in the world.
2. Life is just the right pace: not as fast as NYC (where everyone rushes around in a daze), but not lacking in vitesse.
3. Unrivaled accessibility to knowledge: the Library of Congress, countless museums on every subject imaginable (and mostly free), a general concentration of educated people (although educated does not necessarily mean knowledgeable/wise).
4. There's a great selection of healthy restaurants and fun bars/clubs.
5. Great public transportation system.
6. The seasons are well-defined, giving variety to the "look" of the city and the temperature. (And the cherry blossoms each spring are definitely a bonus.)
7. Exciting ambiance--the feeling of "being in the middle of it all"--both historically and politically, and perhaps socially.
8. Lots of jobs available in my fields of interest.
9. D.C. is a very active city--I love seeing people walking, biking, and playing soccer in the parks.
10. Opportunities to meet really neat, powerful, and unique people.
11. Fro-Yo shops on every corner.
12. I would get to walk past beautiful buildings every day.
13. Being surrounded by the history of our country and legacy of our founders.
14. The opportunity to actually use the extra languages I've learned--something I've really enjoyed doing this week.
15. I would love to be able to wake up at 5 every morning and walk down to the Lincoln Memorial, one of my favorite spots in the world.

Day 33 - Philadelphia

Our dinner with the Philadelphia director of Mission Year tonight was a really powerful experience—powerfully encouraging as well as challenging. As Kaz started to explain the goals and purpose of Mission Year in her sweet New Zealand accent, I was swept back to another time and another place.

Their tagline is, “Loving God, Loving People, Nothing Else Matters.” An integral part of the program is living a simple life; participants are on a fixed budget—rent is covered and they are given $17/week food stipend. Participants do not have a television, use public transportation and their feet to get around, and agree to not use their phones, iPods, computers, etc. for at least the first six weeks.

My first impression of Philadelphia was not very good. It was dirty compared to New York City and Boston, and, although slower-paced, the people didn’t seem any friendlier as we trekked from the train station to Independence Square. But later this afternoon, at the Reading Terminal Market, I had the privilege of speaking with Mr. Michael Anthony, Operations Manager of the Market since 1999. After just 15 minutes in his office, I felt like I had known Mr. Anthony for years; he’s a big, lighthearted, black man with a very sunny disposition. Just one of the friendliest and most easy going people I’ve met on this trip—instead of getting annoyed or frustrated (as many do) when we ask challenging questions, Mr. Anthony was intrigued and determined to get us a quality answer. Emily asked why Philly is called the “City of Brotherly Love.” Having lived in Philly all his life, Mr. Anthony said he was embarrassed that he didn’t know, and proceeded to call a friend to find out. (Apparently it comes from the Greek philo (love) and delphi (city).)

I thought it interesting how one 15-minute conversation completely changed my outlook on the entire city. It went from cold and impersonal to friendly and vibrant after one personable interaction. Literally from the moment I walked out of Mr. Anthony’s office, the city looked sunnier, cleaner, and much more inviting. I found Philly’s City Hall to be among the most beautiful architecture in the United States and the fountain in Love Park to be playful and endearing. All because of my new sense of connectedness to the city.

This transition from tight-knit rural communities to isolated urban living is something that sociologists have taken note of and continue to explore. But it’s one thing to read about it in a textbook, and quite another to experience it in the third dimension.

And thus you can understand the importance of Mission Year’s mission to get young people involved in their communities, building authentic relationships with their neighbours. Teams of 5 or 6 are assigned to a neighbourhood where they work together for half the day with an organization that the Mission Year city director has identified as being a legitimate and stable presence in the community. For example, Amy and her team work at a private Christian school, providing an after-school program that keeps kids out of drugs and prostitution. During the other half of the day, team members volunteer with an organization of their choice, and on Sundays they are active in a neighbourhood church. Friday is their “Sabbath”—free day, and Saturday is to be spent in the community—working in a community garden, playing with kids in the park, tutoring, having neighbours over for dinner, etc. The overarching emphasis is consistently on caring for the people around you and using your connections to connect neighbours who don’t know each other—neighbours who will be there long after your Mission Year is over. Mission Year participants are purposefully relocated to a city they’ve never been to when they start the program, forcing them to start from scratch.

The discussion tonight was deeply meaningful to me because the circumstances closely resembled my year abroad, and the goals of Mission Year are very similar to the personal goals I had for myself. Witnessing the genuine joy and contentedness of Kaz, Amy, and Joe—our Mission Year correspondents—spoke volumes about their devotion to serving others and the personal growth and happiness that results. An important part of their message was the idea of devoting a year to lead this sort of “counter-popular culture” lifestyle—focused on selflessness and service--during which you will inevitably learn a lot about your own identity and values, and then decide which ones you're going to hold on to and take with you through life.

In all the moving around I’ve done since that year and throughout my inherently uncertain and ever-changing lifestyle I’ve lost sight of some of the things (like community) that had become part of my core values. So the discussion tonight really challenged me—in a great way—to reclaim those values by implementing them daily as I go back to spend another solid year in Nashville. There is still so much that I’m processing from all the great experiences I’ve been blessed with—this trip has definitely provided some food for thought in addition to the other voyages I’m still sorting out. I’m so thankful for all of this and really looking forward to see what comes of my re-devotion to service and community next year.

I already made the commitment last spring to take on a lot this next year—I’m going to be an RA in a freshman dorm, a Belmont Bruin Recruiter, and be working with the Entrepreneurship Club, International Business Society, involved with welcoming and hosting incoming exchange students, and writing for the student newspaper I helped start in ‘07 (The Right Aisle Review). I know that all of this on top of 17 credit hours is going to be busy, but I’m really excited to just jump in and go for it!

Just got done seeing The Little Mermaid on Broadway.

Incredible!

Days 27, 28, and 29 - Boston

Boston is the place to be on the 4^th of July, and nothing was going to stop us from experiencing it in all its glory. We had heard from several sources that we needed to arrive very early at the Esplanade in order to procure free wristbands for the Neil Diamond/Boston Pops concert and fireworks.

So, at the crack of dawn on Independence Day, four of us crept quietly out of our bunks to start the 1.8 mile trek to the bus station. I got up around 5:30 to have a little time to relax and get ready for the big day; just as I pull my cinnamon swirl instant oatmeal out of the microwave Jenni walks into the kitchen, still half asleep and rubbing her eyes. No louder than a whisper, I hear her say, “The British are coming!”

*****

I love how Jenni always has a broad perspective. There are a lot of times that the group gets into different discussions about certain issues, focusing on details and picking everything apart; it’s really nice to have someone around to help pull back and look at the issue in context of the big picture. Her coming into the kitchen that morning and talking about the British set a reflective tone for my thoughts throughout the day and kept history in the foreground. It’s really easy to get caught up in the flag t-shirts, barbecues, flip-flops, fireworks, and crowds; it’s so easy to forget what we’re celebrating—the birth of our country as a result of several men and women’s boldness in the face of a tyrannous king.

*****

After a pleasant morning hike we arrived at the commuter rail station and were greeted heartily by an already-half-drunk veteran (at 7am) who pointed us to the correct bus stop. Waiting for the bus, we sat down and played a few rounds of cards. The only time I’ve ever played cards is at large family gatherings—usually during holidays—and once in a while with a few of my siblings. Over the card game we talked about each of our family’s 4^th of July traditions—all agreeing that it was the sense of community that made this holiday special. It was obvious that we were all missing home a little. Someone said, “Let’s be a family today,” and it really did feel like we were. This past month has been crazy busy; we’ve been tired, cold, hot, dirty, grouchy, ecstatic, weeping, and laughing together; we’ve spent 720 hours together and shared 90 meals; we’ve lost cameras, sung for hours in the car—in traffic jams in LA and through the Badlands of S. Dakota, searched for sheep in the hills of Arizona, jockeyed for the tiny bathroom sink every morning and night while brushing our teeth…..and it’s been wonderful.

After waiting in line for wristbands for about an hour, we saw signs warning that the fireworks can not be seen from inside the concert arena, so we opted out of that. With the help of some locals, we secured a grassy spot on the bank of Charles River right outside the concert area—just yards from the firework launching platform out in the water. The four of us switched off between holding down the fort and walking around in the adjacent neighborhood. Having passed a CVS on our way in from the metro station, we knew exactly where to go when we realized that we were going to need some supplies for the day. Jenni and Pierce headed off to get the necessities: magazines, candy, and something to sit on. Apparently CVS was clued into the fact that they had a captive audience who was inevitably going to have forgotten something; beach towels/blankets were set at $15 a piece. But, Pierce and Jenni, being the innovative young minds that they are, obtained a couple shower curtains for the low price of $4. Good work, bargain hunters!

Once back at "camp," we enlisted the help of some Canadians on the neighboring picnic blanket and tacked down our glossy white shower curtains, ensuring that the eventual crowd would not encroach on our spectator space. Camping out for 14 hours before the show provided ample time and abundant victims for our research. The aforementioned Canadians were very friendly and held a surprisingly positive view of America. It seems that I’m always hearing about Canadians who travel overseas and are consistently offended when taken for Americans; I hear that they don’t really like our government or anything else about America. But that’s not what I heard from these Canadians.

Here’s what they had to say:

• Americans are very generous—the most generous nation in the world. The only downside is that they seem to go out of their way to make sure that everyone knows how generous they are.
• Bush wasn’t a bad president: he did good concerning the circumstances he had to work with.
• (Then they talked extensively about how the U.S. and Canada have handled Indian Affairs differently—U.S. conquered them through battle, then gave them reservations. The British made treaties, now Indians are saying, “Look- you broke the treaty,” and reclaiming land. Protests have blocked roads in several cities and police are afraid to do anything because one of them was convicted of manslaughter when things got out of hand during one of these protests.)

As a side note: Sometimes people don’t seem to understand what we’re looking for when we ask, “What does it mean to be an American?” They usually go off on some tangent—like the guy in the Mall of America (Emma and I have affectionately dubbed him “angry man”) who couldn’t find anything positive to say about America except that, “Well, the shopping is better. We have more options.” And then went on to rant about his political views, condemning the American government of failing on numerous levels. Although I don’t think he would have wanted to dwell on anything positive, it sounds like he enjoys his right to free speech.

It’s often what people don’t say that provides interesting insight.

Coming back to the 4^th, we spent a great day lounging by the river, just reading, talking, napping, and enjoying each other’s company. I picked up a Reader’s Digest (special July 4^th edition) during one of my many excursions to Newberry Street, and spent the entire afternoon reading Ken Burns’ take on the National Parks we just visited and other great articles about America. It was a very educational and somewhat relaxing day for me.

*****

The rest of the group (who had been at the reading of the Declaration of Independence from the balcony of the Old State House—the very balcony where it was first delivered to the freedom fighters) arrived at the river around 6pm and we all got together on the shower curtains to talk about our experiences that day. Neither of our professors were interested in braving the 100,000+ crowd, so it was just the ten of us. Even though I was literally freezing on the windy riverbank it was so much fun as 5 of us huddled under one tiny blanket and the other 5 piled on top of each other to stay warm, all of us singing along to “Sweet Caroline” and watching the fireworks.

In the interest of keeping a blog manageably short and readable, I'm going to stop here. But Boston was so much more than just the 4th of July. I had an amazing experience at the Institute of Contemporary Art and was humbled as I walked through several memorials around the city.

As I was telling Andi this morning, I'm going to be blogging about this trip for the rest of the year, maybe longer. There is so much going on in each place that I know it's going to take a while to process it all!

Dear Mobile Blogger,

Are you working?

Love, Shirah

Day 13 - San Francisco

I’m realizing now why it’s so important to keep up with my blogs…this morning I couldn’t remember ever having been in Cleveland, let alone my thoughts and feelings during our day in San Francisco.

Luckily I’ve been taking pretty good notes throughout the day, so I have something to help rekindle my memory. However, sometimes I feel like I take notes out of obligation—not because I experienced something that I felt was noteworthy. I wonder what I wrote about in San Francisco…..hold that thought while I peruse my notebook.

As I mentioned before, I keep “pretty good notes” – unfortunately those notes don’t include El Paso, San Antonio, Los Angeles, or SAN FRANCISCO.

But wait, something’s coming back to me….Beatniks, Bubble Tea, Brussels, Boardwalk, Blistery.

Let me see if I can expand on this a little bit.

Beatniks. We visited City Lights bookstore, first publisher of Allen Ginsburg’s controversial poem, HOWL, and a major gathering place for beatniks to share their literature. Across the street, the Beatnik Museum offered an interesting array of artifacts belonging to Jack Kerouac, Ginsburg, and their fellow beatnik leaders as well as photos, paintings, stories, and a selection of poems on their original scrap paper. This was my first beatnik encounter (I’m sorry Garrett, I know my ignorance disappoints you) and an interesting one at that. Next door to City Lights, I was encouraged to pick up Ginsburg’s HOWL by my professor in Vesuvia’s upstairs reading room. If I remember correctly, after trying to get past the profanity and curious writing style, I deciphered a few lines and was surprised at the seriousness of their content. I’ll have to go into more detail later.

Bubble Tea. We visited Chinatown, and even though I really wanted it, I couldn’t bring myself to buy bubble tea from any of the many vendors. I only buy bubble tea in two places: (1) China, and (2) Fat Straw in Edgehill—down the street from Belmont. I’ve been burned too many times by bubble tea impersonators. Finding the perfect balance of blended ice, fruit flavoring, pudding, and tapioca balls is an advanced art requiring education, experience, and a natural propensity for the creation of this delicious concoction – it’s a drink that can not be left to chance. I approve the aforementioned locations—articles (1) and (2)—as authentic bubble tea manufacturers. All others should be approached with caution.

Brussels. The tall, skinny townhomes of San Francisco reminded me of living in the Belgian capital (aka Seat of the European Union). But mostly I just like to take advantage of mentioning Belgium whenever I can—it’s really a great place and I miss my Belgian friends, family, and home a lot! Perhaps I should look into the tourism industry; I would be a great representative for the “Visit Belgium Today!” council.

Boardwalk. I think it was more of a pier than a boardwalk, but I couldn’t bear to break the pattern after coming up with three other B-words. During our evening free time a small group of us set out to explore Fisherman’s Wharf area, hoping to find a cute little local restaurant with a view of the ocean. Unfortunately there were slim pickings (i.e. nothing) in our price range, so we settled on Subway, across the street, with no view of the water. But all was not lost. After a not-so-local dinner experience, we took back up walking until we were too cold and tired to continue. Fortunate for us, this point happened to coincide with a small pier featuring a Seattle’s Best Coffee shop. So, in the spirit of not shopping locally, we grabbed a cup of Seattle’s best and watched the moon rays bounce over the bay water….until we realized that it was dark and we were somewhat lost. Stopping to survey the general public, all 6 of us reconvened with 6 different sets of directions to the nearest metro stop. We stumbled through traffic (leaving a cell phone in the middle of a crosswalk and being nearly crushed by a speeding Jaguar), boarded the nearest tram, and after several false alarms (including getting-off, looking around, yelling to the driver to PLEASE re-open the door, getting-back-on, only to be given looks of pure hatred by local passengers) we found a subway station and got home.

Blistery. I don’t know how to say this pleasantly, so I’ll just say it. I absolutely do not like San Francisco weather. First off, I do not like coldness as my one and only weather option. It makes me, well, cold. Secondly, I do not like damp fog. It makes cold even colder. Thirdly, I do not like clouds. They reflect light and give me headaches. Fourthly, I do not like cold wind. Especially when I’m already cold.

Conclusion: I will never, ever, ever, ever, ever, live in San Francisco. Ever. (At least I hope not.) ;)

On that happy note, dear reader, I will leave you with my thoughts and feelings on San Francisco, as remembered 13 days and 10 cities after the fact.

Day 26 - Niagara Falls

Niagara Falls. It’s hard to believe we’ve already made it so far towards the East Coast.

Today was a pleasant, relaxing day. Most of the group went out to breakfast this morning. Somehow I missed the memo because I only vaguely heard, “Last call for breakfast,” at which point I popped my head out of my cubby and realized it was too late, even if I did want to go.

So while the early-birds had puffy apple pancakes and humongous egg-white omelets stuffed with ooey-gooey cheese, I cashed in on a few more hours of sweet slumber. It wasn’t until they all piled back into the bus at 11:45 that I crawled out of my cozy little cave to face the day.

After getting caught up on some blogging and reading we headed out to look at the falls. I’ve seen photos of Niagara before, but I wasn’t quite expecting the width of the horseshoe to be so vast. It seemed like the lip of the falls made a complete semicircle. From the lookout point at the very top they didn’t look as tall as I had expected, but the sight was nonetheless breathtaking. I’m sure they were a lot taller than I realized, because when I looked down through the mist to the lagoon below, the tour boats that I know hold several hundred people were TINY!

Even sitting 100 yards behind the waterfall there was a steady “rain” of mist blowing at us. And when we moved 50 more yards away we could still feel the mist from time to time. This is due partly to the wind blowing, but even with little to no breeze, the amount of mist generated by the Falls is HUGE.

I’ve heard that there’s a better view and better museum on the Canadian side; unfortunately we’re not authorized to leave the country on this trip—even if only a few miles away—so Canada was not an option, but it would be interesting to come back on my own time and do a little more investigating. I know sometimes that there are caves behind waterfalls…if there’s one accessible behind Niagara I would love to see that.

During class this afternoon it was really neat to see us beginning to draw parallels between different cities and regions. We’ve traveled far and long enough now that we have a lot of different experiences to compare and contrast and have begun to see several overarching themes emerge.

One of those themes is hope. Besides being one of the most common answers to our infamous question, “What does it mean to be an American?” we’ve seen hope in action in almost every city. From the Katrina victims in New Orleans to our Navajo friends, to a tour guide in Seattle, to a Kenyan entrepreneur in Minneapolis, to a 1st generation American on the Boston metro, I’ve seen and heard hope.

There are a few other common ones too…pride, traditions, freedom, sports. The people I tend to engage in conversation often end up being foreigners who have a slightly different perspective than Americans. Their number one remark on America: privilege and opportunity (a testament to my observation that Americans who have traveled overseas have a greater appreciation for the opportunity this country provides than Americans who have never left the comforts of their homeland).

Sitting on a grassy knoll overlooking the falls, I was moved by the unforgiving nature and pure velocity of the current. Closing my eyes as the spray blew over my face, I was reminded of a similar feeling from just two weeks ago--as the sands of Texas encompassed me while walking across dry, dusty flatlands. The geographical diversity of America continues to amaze me. We are so blessed to have such beautiful landscapes—and doubly blessed to have cars and roads to access them.