If you still read this (or check in from time-to-time) you'll notice I have not updated in a looonnngg time. I apologize for this. I've actually moved to a new blog as I start off on a new journey. Feel free to follow me there. I promise there will be more activity there - primarily because there are more people reading :-)
http://mollyskye.wordpress.com/ Check it out! I'm headed to Africa next.
See ya there!
~Molly
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Slice of Life
I wrote this while at a cafe this afternoon. I've left the pauses where I apparently felt they went at the time. This is a glimpse into my mind. There are no incredible revelations or life-changing pieces of advice. Just simple observation.
The air is crisp. The trees show their true colors, which are reflected in the still waters of the canal. In the canals I can also see the blue of the sky with wisps of cloud strewn about. I feel the stones under my feet and the slight drip of my nose lets me know that it is fall.
My thoughts are so loud I fear those around me can hear them. Perhaps their minds are feeding into them. As I sit, my gaze is fixed and I am entranced. Occasionally the clink of a glass or an unexpected laugh brings me back to the table. I watch the curly redhead across the street as she gets her hair cut. The stylist twists the locks as she prepares to cut. I am reminded of my poor posture when my back begins to ache from my current position. My eyes are drawn to the cafe decor. Black and white striped walls are interrupted by large, colorful paintings from a local artist. I wonder if they will ever sell. I take a sip of the tea the shop owner helped me pick out and smell the berries as its warmth reaches my tongue. It is followed by a bite of cannebullar - the best I've tried in the city so far. The dough is a bit crispy on the outside, but moist. The cinnamon flavor is fresh and the pearl sugar atop melts in your mouth.
The two girls who were sitting in the Victorian velvet brocade chairs put on their coats and both look at me again, trying to be discreet. My toes feel the burst of cold wind as they walk through the door and they take one more look in my direction before strolling off laughing. Only my imagination will know what is so amusing about my appearance. A young couple walks by - each of their two children carrying a mylar balloon with unnamed cartoon characters.
Another bite of canelbullar. The redhead reads a magazine and the stylist takes a bite of a chocolate bar while the hair is drying. I admire the construction of the cafe's stools- designed for comfort. My mind wanders to all the dogs I passed in the morning's Oktobermarket. Each had such a distinct look and personality that barking was almost unnecessary, because you could already tell what they were thinking.
A woman walks in whose green brocade jacket exactly matches the pattern of the chairs. I wonder if she ever noticed. The scent of the next table's cheese dip wafts over with the shutting of the door. Looking out the window, I catch in the reflection of the blue van parked outside a little girl rolling about on the sidewalk laughing. She rolls far enough that I can see her plainly and she continues to laugh as her blonde braids peek out from beneath her knit grey cap. Mom helps her up as she walks by and the family continues on their Saturday walk.
A girl walks by with a mylar pony balloon attached to a small suitcase. She looks back in admiration and concentration so as not to lose control of the suitcase. Mom smiles and leads on. She reminds me of myself as I rolled my large suitcase through these same streets just two days ago. There was no balloon, but perhaps there should have been.
I stir my tea and the sugar from the bottom swirls around with the remaining tea leaves and I take a sip of the tea which is now slightly cold and slightly too sweet. I think of the coffee I was invited to share with a bible study group this morning when I showed up unannounced at a local church. I tried to mask the flavor with cream and sugar, but was unsuccessful in my attempt. I still do not care for the taste of coffee. It was the first time in this country that tea was not also offered. The tea light on my table is no longer flickering in its black glass cup.
I notice the black wall behind me is covered with two huge canvases. One is the Mona Lisa. The other is a picture of cows. The blonde couple on the couch embraces and the young man gently kisses his girlfriend's forehead. The server arrives with their food and she yawns unceremoniously.
A family walks in and eyes my table upon realizing they are left with only high tables at which they can sit. The clouds shift deepening the contrast between light and shadow. I guess the time is 3:00, but a look at my phone shows me I am ahead half an hour. The mother of the family asks something in Swedish and I am forced to reveal I am a foreigner here. She asks again if she may use one of the chairs at my table to store her things. I nod emphatically. I sip the last of my tea and take the final bite of canelbullar, making sure to get every last bit of pearl sugar. I use my finger to pick up the remaining three pearls. As if on cue, my phone rings. My face flushes wondering how long the call will take and whether I should take it outside for not. I try to answer as inconspicuously as possible and am relieved to hang up a few minutes later. Work.
I let the last few drops of tea run into my mouth and use my finger to remove a rogue tea leaf from my front teeth. With that, there is no further excuse to stay. The cafe is becoming more crowded as people come in for a fika. I leave my seat and bundle up before walking out into the brisk air again.
Greetings from Sweden,
~Molly
The air is crisp. The trees show their true colors, which are reflected in the still waters of the canal. In the canals I can also see the blue of the sky with wisps of cloud strewn about. I feel the stones under my feet and the slight drip of my nose lets me know that it is fall.
My thoughts are so loud I fear those around me can hear them. Perhaps their minds are feeding into them. As I sit, my gaze is fixed and I am entranced. Occasionally the clink of a glass or an unexpected laugh brings me back to the table. I watch the curly redhead across the street as she gets her hair cut. The stylist twists the locks as she prepares to cut. I am reminded of my poor posture when my back begins to ache from my current position. My eyes are drawn to the cafe decor. Black and white striped walls are interrupted by large, colorful paintings from a local artist. I wonder if they will ever sell. I take a sip of the tea the shop owner helped me pick out and smell the berries as its warmth reaches my tongue. It is followed by a bite of cannebullar - the best I've tried in the city so far. The dough is a bit crispy on the outside, but moist. The cinnamon flavor is fresh and the pearl sugar atop melts in your mouth.
The two girls who were sitting in the Victorian velvet brocade chairs put on their coats and both look at me again, trying to be discreet. My toes feel the burst of cold wind as they walk through the door and they take one more look in my direction before strolling off laughing. Only my imagination will know what is so amusing about my appearance. A young couple walks by - each of their two children carrying a mylar balloon with unnamed cartoon characters.
Another bite of canelbullar. The redhead reads a magazine and the stylist takes a bite of a chocolate bar while the hair is drying. I admire the construction of the cafe's stools- designed for comfort. My mind wanders to all the dogs I passed in the morning's Oktobermarket. Each had such a distinct look and personality that barking was almost unnecessary, because you could already tell what they were thinking.
A woman walks in whose green brocade jacket exactly matches the pattern of the chairs. I wonder if she ever noticed. The scent of the next table's cheese dip wafts over with the shutting of the door. Looking out the window, I catch in the reflection of the blue van parked outside a little girl rolling about on the sidewalk laughing. She rolls far enough that I can see her plainly and she continues to laugh as her blonde braids peek out from beneath her knit grey cap. Mom helps her up as she walks by and the family continues on their Saturday walk.
A girl walks by with a mylar pony balloon attached to a small suitcase. She looks back in admiration and concentration so as not to lose control of the suitcase. Mom smiles and leads on. She reminds me of myself as I rolled my large suitcase through these same streets just two days ago. There was no balloon, but perhaps there should have been.
I stir my tea and the sugar from the bottom swirls around with the remaining tea leaves and I take a sip of the tea which is now slightly cold and slightly too sweet. I think of the coffee I was invited to share with a bible study group this morning when I showed up unannounced at a local church. I tried to mask the flavor with cream and sugar, but was unsuccessful in my attempt. I still do not care for the taste of coffee. It was the first time in this country that tea was not also offered. The tea light on my table is no longer flickering in its black glass cup.
I notice the black wall behind me is covered with two huge canvases. One is the Mona Lisa. The other is a picture of cows. The blonde couple on the couch embraces and the young man gently kisses his girlfriend's forehead. The server arrives with their food and she yawns unceremoniously.
A family walks in and eyes my table upon realizing they are left with only high tables at which they can sit. The clouds shift deepening the contrast between light and shadow. I guess the time is 3:00, but a look at my phone shows me I am ahead half an hour. The mother of the family asks something in Swedish and I am forced to reveal I am a foreigner here. She asks again if she may use one of the chairs at my table to store her things. I nod emphatically. I sip the last of my tea and take the final bite of canelbullar, making sure to get every last bit of pearl sugar. I use my finger to pick up the remaining three pearls. As if on cue, my phone rings. My face flushes wondering how long the call will take and whether I should take it outside for not. I try to answer as inconspicuously as possible and am relieved to hang up a few minutes later. Work.
I let the last few drops of tea run into my mouth and use my finger to remove a rogue tea leaf from my front teeth. With that, there is no further excuse to stay. The cafe is becoming more crowded as people come in for a fika. I leave my seat and bundle up before walking out into the brisk air again.
Greetings from Sweden,
~Molly
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Buenas noches
Today was one of those days that makes everything worthwhile - and then some. After dropping Celi off at the airport I met my host family for lunch at my host abuela's house. We talked a bit and then went to the church to pass out information about being a host family for any people interested. I have to say that having light hair has its advantages here... after about 10 minutes everyone on the block had seen me and smiled at me as I passed by. Another advantage is that they are a little taken aback when I start speaking Spanish. I have yet to encounter a person for the first time who hasn't commented on my Spanish - and it almost always follows "where are you from?"
After handing out fliers I headed home for some quality internet time. I listened to some music and sang a bit working on a project that, if it comes to fruition, I will share. I decided to go explore and try to find a good place to eat for dinner, so I headed off to the Centro Historico. Centro Historico never ceases to amaze me. Every time I visit my brain goes into camera mode to take mental pictures of everything I pass.
This evening was even more spectacular. There is a special exhibition of frogs going on right now where different artists have made artistic interpretations of frogs. It was an unexpected sight... I knew they were in town but did not realize they were out in the public squares. After walking about a bit I settled into a cozy creperie. There was a table right by the entrance facing out to the square with just one seat facing the outdoors. It had my name written on it. I went in and ordered a panini and a chai tea frappe. The panini was good, but the frappe was delicious. I sat and took in the happenings of the square as I let my mind drift off. (Don't worry, I will get a crepe the next time I go, but this time there just wasn't enough room - as I only finished half of my panini). I took the other half of my panini and headed back to the car.
This was my first time driving into the Centro, so I decided to stick with the more familiar roads until I knew where I was exactly. I stuck to the small stone roads and was noticing the traffic moving very slowly. The radio was playing and I decided it was time to mute it and open the windows to take in the bustle of Sunday night in the town squares. I looked to my left and there was a beautiful cathedral. To my right, there was a large fountain and families spread throughout the square enjoying the beautiful evening air. As if on cue, mariachi music came over the square. All of a sudden, the fountain changed. It was synchronized to the music! Different fountains shot into the air in time with the music. Luckily, the stoplight was generous and gave me a few minutes to watch in awe. It reminded me of that perfect night in Rome.
I took a guess as to which way to go once I got out to the big roads and found myself right where I wanted to be. As the car pulled into the development I followed the loop around to our house making sure to stop where we can see the whole city. Celi and I call it the "Victory lap." After a day of hard work, we come home and we can either take the short loop or the Victory lap. We usually choose the Victory lap because it's the perfect end to a bad day as well as a great day. The sun had set, but the sky was still filled with color. The mountains were silhouettes against the pink sky which faded to a blue grey around the edges of the city. The city lights twinkled magnificently as I rounded the corner to my host family's house.
With that, I leave you. Until next time,
~Molly
After handing out fliers I headed home for some quality internet time. I listened to some music and sang a bit working on a project that, if it comes to fruition, I will share. I decided to go explore and try to find a good place to eat for dinner, so I headed off to the Centro Historico. Centro Historico never ceases to amaze me. Every time I visit my brain goes into camera mode to take mental pictures of everything I pass.
This evening was even more spectacular. There is a special exhibition of frogs going on right now where different artists have made artistic interpretations of frogs. It was an unexpected sight... I knew they were in town but did not realize they were out in the public squares. After walking about a bit I settled into a cozy creperie. There was a table right by the entrance facing out to the square with just one seat facing the outdoors. It had my name written on it. I went in and ordered a panini and a chai tea frappe. The panini was good, but the frappe was delicious. I sat and took in the happenings of the square as I let my mind drift off. (Don't worry, I will get a crepe the next time I go, but this time there just wasn't enough room - as I only finished half of my panini). I took the other half of my panini and headed back to the car.
This was my first time driving into the Centro, so I decided to stick with the more familiar roads until I knew where I was exactly. I stuck to the small stone roads and was noticing the traffic moving very slowly. The radio was playing and I decided it was time to mute it and open the windows to take in the bustle of Sunday night in the town squares. I looked to my left and there was a beautiful cathedral. To my right, there was a large fountain and families spread throughout the square enjoying the beautiful evening air. As if on cue, mariachi music came over the square. All of a sudden, the fountain changed. It was synchronized to the music! Different fountains shot into the air in time with the music. Luckily, the stoplight was generous and gave me a few minutes to watch in awe. It reminded me of that perfect night in Rome.
I took a guess as to which way to go once I got out to the big roads and found myself right where I wanted to be. As the car pulled into the development I followed the loop around to our house making sure to stop where we can see the whole city. Celi and I call it the "Victory lap." After a day of hard work, we come home and we can either take the short loop or the Victory lap. We usually choose the Victory lap because it's the perfect end to a bad day as well as a great day. The sun had set, but the sky was still filled with color. The mountains were silhouettes against the pink sky which faded to a blue grey around the edges of the city. The city lights twinkled magnificently as I rounded the corner to my host family's house.
With that, I leave you. Until next time,
~Molly
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Te quiero Querétaro
Querétaro, Querétaro – the capital of the state. The middle of México, the middle of summer; without a beach nearby it would be easy to think I was going to die of heat exhaustion. Luckily, that is not the case! The weather here in Querétaro has been absolutely beautiful. In the mornings, the chill is enough to cause one to layer. In the afternoon the sun gets bright, but what is summer without some warmth? By the time the sun sets over the mountains, however, the cool breeze blows in again.
I’ve been here now for one week and so far I love this city. The historic downtown is straight out of a photographer’s dream and it makes me wish my own camera was better at capturing the city’s magic. Everything downtown is within walking distance. There is a mix of traditional food vendors and historical churches alongside modern cafés and clothing shops. Best of all, in all the public squares they have free wireless internet! It’s as if someone stole my dreams and made them into a city.
Our host family lives on a hill in the south of the city. From here we can see the entire city. It was not until this morning, however that we discovered there is a pyramid in the city. How we managed to miss it, I am not sure, but now that we know it’s there we’ll make sure to explore. We’re living in a family with five kids. Our host dad is Mexican and our host mom Hungarian. The kids range in age from two months to eleven years. They all speak Spanish and Hungarian and those over eight years also speak English. It’s quite impressive to see them switch languages based on who they are talking to. English is their weakest language, so host dad asks me to speak only English to them. I’m working on that, as sometimes it’s hard when you speak the language they prefer as well.
Tomorrow I’ll be returning to San Luis Potosí . This will be my second time there in just over a week. I will once again get to visit my delightful host family there. When I arrived last week – the first time in over a year – I was greeted with handmade signs welcoming me home and saying how much they missed me. It was really sweet.
I guess that’s all for now.
Loving Querétaro,
~Molly
I’ve been here now for one week and so far I love this city. The historic downtown is straight out of a photographer’s dream and it makes me wish my own camera was better at capturing the city’s magic. Everything downtown is within walking distance. There is a mix of traditional food vendors and historical churches alongside modern cafés and clothing shops. Best of all, in all the public squares they have free wireless internet! It’s as if someone stole my dreams and made them into a city.
Our host family lives on a hill in the south of the city. From here we can see the entire city. It was not until this morning, however that we discovered there is a pyramid in the city. How we managed to miss it, I am not sure, but now that we know it’s there we’ll make sure to explore. We’re living in a family with five kids. Our host dad is Mexican and our host mom Hungarian. The kids range in age from two months to eleven years. They all speak Spanish and Hungarian and those over eight years also speak English. It’s quite impressive to see them switch languages based on who they are talking to. English is their weakest language, so host dad asks me to speak only English to them. I’m working on that, as sometimes it’s hard when you speak the language they prefer as well.
Tomorrow I’ll be returning to San Luis Potosí . This will be my second time there in just over a week. I will once again get to visit my delightful host family there. When I arrived last week – the first time in over a year – I was greeted with handmade signs welcoming me home and saying how much they missed me. It was really sweet.
I guess that’s all for now.
Loving Querétaro,
~Molly
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Mastercard?
Well, I suppose it's time to write again. Let's start off with the good news (at least for me). In the last three months, we have managed to successfully obtain 23 visas! I say we because it takes more than just one person. I did much of the research and leg work, but it couldn't have been done without a whole group of people. If you've ever tried to obtain a visa, then you may understand what an undertaking this is. For those who haven't, here's a little insight.
Lesson #1- Communication - Depending on how nice you are to the individuals in the consulate, your communication with them may be great. Communication between embassies, however, is non-existent.
Example: The Taiwanese embassy in Miami says non-US Citizens must apply for Taiwanese visas at the consulate nearest their home (Nepal must apply in India, Venezuela must apply in Venezuela) and that Chinese students are unable to travel to Taiwan as tourists. They need a green card to enter the country. The Taiwanese embassy in Chicago says that everyone can apply in the US, but the process for the Chinese students will take longer, however, they cannot apply in the Chicago office due to the fact that we were at the time traveling in Colorado. That leads us to Kansas City - the embassy for the Colorado area. We were able to work out a system to get all of the visa information necessary there and obtain many of the visas.
Lesson #2 - Destination - The answer of one embassy may not be what you want, and therefore it is necessary to not take the word of the first embassy as a final answer. Much like buying a new car, it is important to shop around first.
Example: The Mexican consulate in Denver said it would need to have all of the visa applications approved through the Mexico City office, a process which could take up to a month. The Mexican consulate in Miami took our applications and the visas were obtained the next day except for one who needed to be cleared through Mexico City due to a name issue.
Lesson #3 - Preparation - There is nothing that can help you more than having all the necessary paperwork filled out and ready to go. Calling ahead is a great way to ensure all necessary documents have been prepared.
Example: When going to the consulate where they have told you that as long as you have the applications, the passports, and one other authenticated document your visas will be no problem- don't let said documents fall out of your bag in the van. If you choose to do so, be prepared with the number of people who can bring documents to you.
Lesson #4 - Determination - When the consulate who you have sent all the information to informs you that you will need to go through a separate avenue to obtain a visa for a certain country, it is important to follow through.
Example: When the Taiwanese consulate in Kansas City tells you that the Chinese students need to fill out additional paperwork, you do it. When they tell you they need to talk to your sponsors in Taiwan, you give them the number. When they tell you to fill out another set of papers, you do it. When they tell you that the applications need to be handled in Taiwan, not the United States, you contact your team in Taiwan who sends you forms to fill out. You do it. The sponsor submits information and you are given a new set of forms to fill out. You do it. The Chinese students may have to fill out 4-5 sets of forms before they are given the right ones. When the embassy tells you they are not sure of the process for certain nationalities - ask them to be more specific, as they are the authorities on the subject.
The process is long. The process is hard. The process is time-consuming. Then you get hugs from the students as you hand back their passports with newly-obtained visas and you see the smile on the face of the Chinese student who is so excited to be the first person she knows to be able to visit Taiwan... and it's all worth it.
~Molly
Lesson #1- Communication - Depending on how nice you are to the individuals in the consulate, your communication with them may be great. Communication between embassies, however, is non-existent.
Example: The Taiwanese embassy in Miami says non-US Citizens must apply for Taiwanese visas at the consulate nearest their home (Nepal must apply in India, Venezuela must apply in Venezuela) and that Chinese students are unable to travel to Taiwan as tourists. They need a green card to enter the country. The Taiwanese embassy in Chicago says that everyone can apply in the US, but the process for the Chinese students will take longer, however, they cannot apply in the Chicago office due to the fact that we were at the time traveling in Colorado. That leads us to Kansas City - the embassy for the Colorado area. We were able to work out a system to get all of the visa information necessary there and obtain many of the visas.
Lesson #2 - Destination - The answer of one embassy may not be what you want, and therefore it is necessary to not take the word of the first embassy as a final answer. Much like buying a new car, it is important to shop around first.
Example: The Mexican consulate in Denver said it would need to have all of the visa applications approved through the Mexico City office, a process which could take up to a month. The Mexican consulate in Miami took our applications and the visas were obtained the next day except for one who needed to be cleared through Mexico City due to a name issue.
Lesson #3 - Preparation - There is nothing that can help you more than having all the necessary paperwork filled out and ready to go. Calling ahead is a great way to ensure all necessary documents have been prepared.
Example: When going to the consulate where they have told you that as long as you have the applications, the passports, and one other authenticated document your visas will be no problem- don't let said documents fall out of your bag in the van. If you choose to do so, be prepared with the number of people who can bring documents to you.
Lesson #4 - Determination - When the consulate who you have sent all the information to informs you that you will need to go through a separate avenue to obtain a visa for a certain country, it is important to follow through.
Example: When the Taiwanese consulate in Kansas City tells you that the Chinese students need to fill out additional paperwork, you do it. When they tell you they need to talk to your sponsors in Taiwan, you give them the number. When they tell you to fill out another set of papers, you do it. When they tell you that the applications need to be handled in Taiwan, not the United States, you contact your team in Taiwan who sends you forms to fill out. You do it. The sponsor submits information and you are given a new set of forms to fill out. You do it. The Chinese students may have to fill out 4-5 sets of forms before they are given the right ones. When the embassy tells you they are not sure of the process for certain nationalities - ask them to be more specific, as they are the authorities on the subject.
The process is long. The process is hard. The process is time-consuming. Then you get hugs from the students as you hand back their passports with newly-obtained visas and you see the smile on the face of the Chinese student who is so excited to be the first person she knows to be able to visit Taiwan... and it's all worth it.
~Molly
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
The Bucket List item I never added
Well I suppose the first new post of the new year (as the last post was technically written before the year's end) should be memorable. It should be suspenseful. It should be filled with interesting information. It should have a real message.
Today's story is about the effects of peer pressure. The topic of a certain activity came up early in the week and was bandied about a bit. It was something that had been mentioned at the beginning of the semester in jest; a full-staff activity in which half the staff would never agree to participate. I laughed it off as they began rallying the troops. Some were excited, some nervous, and some just plain not interested. As the week went on, the group grew larger. It began to get so big that I thought about it myself. If everyone else did this and I did not, would I regret it? Looking back on my life, I realized that the things I have regretted have never been the things that I have done. They've always been the things I was too scared to do. With that in mind, I told those coordinating that if they got the WHOLE staff to agree to go, then I would go as well. By Saturday, they had rallied 14 of the 16 staff members. The 15th person was on the fence... she was going to go, but not sure if she would participate. With that level of commitment, I agreed to go.
On a crisp, yet warm Sunday morning, the bus pulled into the monastery where the staff was staying to pick our group up. We had grown from the 16 staff members with the addition of a field manager and 5 students. At 22 strong, we made our way from Dade City to Orlando and by mid-morning had arrived at our destination. After signing our lives away, we began to go. Each group had about five of us mixed in with a contingency of instructors and other people. By the time my shift was to go, there were only three of us from Up with People left. We got dressed appropriately and met our instructors. I use the term instructor loosely, as there was not much instruction at all.
When the vehicle arrived, we all got in and buckled up. I was a bit nervous at the very beginning as we began to move and I realized the back hatch was still partially open. I got less nervous the further we got from our starting point. I looked out the window to enjoy the scenery and made conversation with the man sitting in front of me. After about 20 minutes, we'd reached our destination and my instructor (Ray) told me it was time to get out. We'd practiced our exit a bit on the ride over, so I felt pretty confident. He said, "Now take one last deep breath," and I did. There was no time to think, for as soon as I finished that last breath we went. As I tumbled out of the plane, there was a fraction of a second where my mind screamed, "WHAT DID YOU JUST DO?!" but that quickly subsided as we finished flipping and began our descent. I was not scared at all after that. My ears hurt as the wind went rushing by at 120 miles per hour, but I did not feel scared. The ground seemed so far away that it was as if I was swimming on the air rather than falling. We did some turning and after 60 seconds of free falling, Ray deployed our parachute.
All of a sudden, everything stopped. The rushing air ceased and everything was quiet and still. Ray and I talked a bit as the parachute made a few turns. I looked out over the land and could see for miles. It made me think of the paragliders in our back yard. I had always been too afraid to go, but now I was seeing that the paragliding was tame in comparison to free falling. We neared the ground and I prepared to land. Even after I landed I felt like I was floating still. I walked toward my colleagues as one of the last to jump out of the plane, but still feeling the same sense of accomplishment.
If I had not gone would I have regretted that decision? Absolutely. Let this be a lesson to us all: If everyone else is going to do it, you might as well check it out too... No wait, that's not it. Oh, right. If it seems dangerous, research until you realize that it's actually pretty safe.
The facts: The incidence of death in skydiving is 1 in 100,000. This may seem like a lot, however the majority of those deaths are caused by a maneuver known as swooping, where an individual will approach the ground at high speeds and level out just above ground level as if running on air. This was DEFINITELY not a maneuver we were going to be doing. We all jumped tandem, which took the control out of our hands and into the hands of a professional. Most people's biggest fear in skydiving is the fear that their parachute will not open. Modern day skydiving equipment has built in altimeters which automatically deploy your chute at a certain altitude in case you or the person with you is unable to do so. If the first chute fails to open, there is a second parachute that is actually SAFER than the original parachute.
So with facts in hand, I felt comfortable in my decision. Aside from the moment the plane took off and the moment I left the plane, I was not scared at all. I'm actually more scared now looking back and seeing the pictures. I notice that there's NOTHING between me and the ground except for 13,000 feet of air. That's when I can't believe that I did it. What was I thinking?!
Well, I suppose that's it for this one.
~Molly
Today's story is about the effects of peer pressure. The topic of a certain activity came up early in the week and was bandied about a bit. It was something that had been mentioned at the beginning of the semester in jest; a full-staff activity in which half the staff would never agree to participate. I laughed it off as they began rallying the troops. Some were excited, some nervous, and some just plain not interested. As the week went on, the group grew larger. It began to get so big that I thought about it myself. If everyone else did this and I did not, would I regret it? Looking back on my life, I realized that the things I have regretted have never been the things that I have done. They've always been the things I was too scared to do. With that in mind, I told those coordinating that if they got the WHOLE staff to agree to go, then I would go as well. By Saturday, they had rallied 14 of the 16 staff members. The 15th person was on the fence... she was going to go, but not sure if she would participate. With that level of commitment, I agreed to go.
On a crisp, yet warm Sunday morning, the bus pulled into the monastery where the staff was staying to pick our group up. We had grown from the 16 staff members with the addition of a field manager and 5 students. At 22 strong, we made our way from Dade City to Orlando and by mid-morning had arrived at our destination. After signing our lives away, we began to go. Each group had about five of us mixed in with a contingency of instructors and other people. By the time my shift was to go, there were only three of us from Up with People left. We got dressed appropriately and met our instructors. I use the term instructor loosely, as there was not much instruction at all.
When the vehicle arrived, we all got in and buckled up. I was a bit nervous at the very beginning as we began to move and I realized the back hatch was still partially open. I got less nervous the further we got from our starting point. I looked out the window to enjoy the scenery and made conversation with the man sitting in front of me. After about 20 minutes, we'd reached our destination and my instructor (Ray) told me it was time to get out. We'd practiced our exit a bit on the ride over, so I felt pretty confident. He said, "Now take one last deep breath," and I did. There was no time to think, for as soon as I finished that last breath we went. As I tumbled out of the plane, there was a fraction of a second where my mind screamed, "WHAT DID YOU JUST DO?!" but that quickly subsided as we finished flipping and began our descent. I was not scared at all after that. My ears hurt as the wind went rushing by at 120 miles per hour, but I did not feel scared. The ground seemed so far away that it was as if I was swimming on the air rather than falling. We did some turning and after 60 seconds of free falling, Ray deployed our parachute.
All of a sudden, everything stopped. The rushing air ceased and everything was quiet and still. Ray and I talked a bit as the parachute made a few turns. I looked out over the land and could see for miles. It made me think of the paragliders in our back yard. I had always been too afraid to go, but now I was seeing that the paragliding was tame in comparison to free falling. We neared the ground and I prepared to land. Even after I landed I felt like I was floating still. I walked toward my colleagues as one of the last to jump out of the plane, but still feeling the same sense of accomplishment.
If I had not gone would I have regretted that decision? Absolutely. Let this be a lesson to us all: If everyone else is going to do it, you might as well check it out too... No wait, that's not it. Oh, right. If it seems dangerous, research until you realize that it's actually pretty safe.
The facts: The incidence of death in skydiving is 1 in 100,000. This may seem like a lot, however the majority of those deaths are caused by a maneuver known as swooping, where an individual will approach the ground at high speeds and level out just above ground level as if running on air. This was DEFINITELY not a maneuver we were going to be doing. We all jumped tandem, which took the control out of our hands and into the hands of a professional. Most people's biggest fear in skydiving is the fear that their parachute will not open. Modern day skydiving equipment has built in altimeters which automatically deploy your chute at a certain altitude in case you or the person with you is unable to do so. If the first chute fails to open, there is a second parachute that is actually SAFER than the original parachute.
So with facts in hand, I felt comfortable in my decision. Aside from the moment the plane took off and the moment I left the plane, I was not scared at all. I'm actually more scared now looking back and seeing the pictures. I notice that there's NOTHING between me and the ground except for 13,000 feet of air. That's when I can't believe that I did it. What was I thinking?!
Well, I suppose that's it for this one.
~Molly
Sunday, January 18, 2009
A late seasonal greeting.
The following is my holiday letter, but it really expresses my thoughts over the past month or two.
While in the Philippines I witnessed many things, but the most beautiful was the power of hope. So often people are consumed by the news spread across the media about the problems of the world today. Violence, drugs, war, teen pregnancy, childhood obesity... This generation is slated to be the first in recorded history to have a shorter lifespan and be less successful than the generation before. That's a harsh start to a long life. We look for answers in medicine and technology, which is where we start to miss things. Is it easier to cure someone or to prevent them from becoming ill? The answer seems apparent to those of us who know the power of prevention. However, once a person is ill what keeps them holding on is a little thing called hope. We hope for a cure, for a miracle, for one more day, for something to live for, but we still hope. Well it's time our world had a little more hope.
I've seen first-hand the dramatic impact hope can have. In the Philippines I worked in two different impoverished areas. On the outside, the two areas looked about the same. The needs were the same and the people, at face value were also the same. After wondering what was missing in the second community, I realized it was hope. Following is the story of that first community.
While in Manila I was working with an organization called Gawad Kalinga. The organization has a goal to create a squatter-free Philippines. Their basic model is to tear down the slums and in their place build safe, adequate housing. Working with the beneficiaries, who are required to put in a certain amount of "sweat equity," and volunteers, they construct the housing. They are working to gain land rights in areas where people are living illegally. The basic ideal is to restore dignity to the Filipinos and eventually help to eradicate poverty throughout the world. GK works to build more than houses. They build communities. They teach livelihood skills and work with the beneficiaries to create business models to ensure their future success. In our particular project, the city was working with GK and had given them land rights so they were able to build without tearing down the peoples' houses.
I hardly know where to begin in recounting my experience. I was with a group of 12 people from 7 countries - Bangladesh, Switzerland, Sweden, Netherlands, United States, Mexico, and Germany. On our first day, we were given a tour of the slum that we were building housing for. The neighborhood was within an area they called the "Values Section" with street names like Friendship and Charity. This community lived at the end of Prosperity St. We made our way through a maze of narrow pathways between cardboard enclosures topped with corrugated metal. The pathways were covered with wrappers and trash as well as puddles of water which were likely disease-ridden. In some cases the metal on top was not sufficient, so shirts or tires were thrown on top to help keep out the elements. There was no electricity. The children were walking around barefoot and, in some cases, naked. The mothers were working on recycling or other livelihood projects in which GK had trained them. The heat was unbearable for us, yet it seemed to not affect them. The biggest thing we noticed in every person we passed was their smile. They were all smiling. They knew that we were there to help build their future homes and were filled with the promise that they would soon be able to move out of this slum - which was actually a park until it filled with squatters - and into real houses.
When we returned to the site where we were building, we all had a new appreciation for the people there. These people working side-by-side with us were helping to build their community, their future, and a future for the children. Did I not mention the children? There were hundreds of children. On our first day, we were joined by a dozen or so children with whom we played after finishing our lunches. We taught them games and songs and had some of those who spoke English help to translate. They called us "Barbies" and would feel our skin commenting on how beautiful it was and how beautiful we were. It was almost as if they were checking to see if we were real. As we returned a second and third day they began to look forward to our arrival. We would see them playing games with each other that we had taught them and we rarely would go 15 minutes without hearing a part of one of the songs we'd taught. Each day was filled with excitement at the prospect of going to this amazing place and not only helping to build houses (I did a lot of plastering) but having fun with the kids. There was a buzz around, a jolt of energy to the place that had once been so unfamiliar. We were able to work there for 8 days. At the beginning people would avert their eyes as we walked through the village that was on the way to our site or would occasionally venture to look at us. By the end of the week we were greeted every day with choruses of "hello" and "Goodbye! See you tomorrow!" by adults and children alike. It was easy to see that these people all had hope. They had something to look forward to and knew the lives of their children were going to be improved dramatically due to the efforts of GK.
On our final day, we had a day of just playing and celebrating. We played with the kids to start off the day and later they performed for us. The kids from the neighboring school did little dances and songs for us. Some of the beneficiaries did a Filipino folk dance. Then the beneficiary kids came up to perform. These were "our" kids - the ones we saw every day and had come to love. They got up and performed... one of the songs we'd taught them! When they finished one of their mothers explained "this was the first thing you taught our children and they wanted to let you know that they'll never forget you." Some of the mothers came up to us to tell us how much they'd miss us and that they'd never forget us, that we'd made such an impact on their children in just the short time we were there. They explained that they have hope that with other people like us in the world that we can make it a better place.
When we left there were lots of tears. There were tears of joy for the work that had been done and tears of sadness for the friends we won't see for a long time. They may not forget us, but we will never forget them. Whenever I think of the Philippines, I'll see the faces of Louie and Len Len and Winsy and Camille. I'll know what poverty looks like, yet how hope can shape the lives of those in poverty.
~Molly
If you're interested in Gawad Kalinga, you can find out more at gawadkalinga.org So far their model has been successfully replicated in parts of India and Africa in an effort to eradicate poverty and homelessness.
While in the Philippines I witnessed many things, but the most beautiful was the power of hope. So often people are consumed by the news spread across the media about the problems of the world today. Violence, drugs, war, teen pregnancy, childhood obesity... This generation is slated to be the first in recorded history to have a shorter lifespan and be less successful than the generation before. That's a harsh start to a long life. We look for answers in medicine and technology, which is where we start to miss things. Is it easier to cure someone or to prevent them from becoming ill? The answer seems apparent to those of us who know the power of prevention. However, once a person is ill what keeps them holding on is a little thing called hope. We hope for a cure, for a miracle, for one more day, for something to live for, but we still hope. Well it's time our world had a little more hope.
I've seen first-hand the dramatic impact hope can have. In the Philippines I worked in two different impoverished areas. On the outside, the two areas looked about the same. The needs were the same and the people, at face value were also the same. After wondering what was missing in the second community, I realized it was hope. Following is the story of that first community.
While in Manila I was working with an organization called Gawad Kalinga. The organization has a goal to create a squatter-free Philippines. Their basic model is to tear down the slums and in their place build safe, adequate housing. Working with the beneficiaries, who are required to put in a certain amount of "sweat equity," and volunteers, they construct the housing. They are working to gain land rights in areas where people are living illegally. The basic ideal is to restore dignity to the Filipinos and eventually help to eradicate poverty throughout the world. GK works to build more than houses. They build communities. They teach livelihood skills and work with the beneficiaries to create business models to ensure their future success. In our particular project, the city was working with GK and had given them land rights so they were able to build without tearing down the peoples' houses.
I hardly know where to begin in recounting my experience. I was with a group of 12 people from 7 countries - Bangladesh, Switzerland, Sweden, Netherlands, United States, Mexico, and Germany. On our first day, we were given a tour of the slum that we were building housing for. The neighborhood was within an area they called the "Values Section" with street names like Friendship and Charity. This community lived at the end of Prosperity St. We made our way through a maze of narrow pathways between cardboard enclosures topped with corrugated metal. The pathways were covered with wrappers and trash as well as puddles of water which were likely disease-ridden. In some cases the metal on top was not sufficient, so shirts or tires were thrown on top to help keep out the elements. There was no electricity. The children were walking around barefoot and, in some cases, naked. The mothers were working on recycling or other livelihood projects in which GK had trained them. The heat was unbearable for us, yet it seemed to not affect them. The biggest thing we noticed in every person we passed was their smile. They were all smiling. They knew that we were there to help build their future homes and were filled with the promise that they would soon be able to move out of this slum - which was actually a park until it filled with squatters - and into real houses.
When we returned to the site where we were building, we all had a new appreciation for the people there. These people working side-by-side with us were helping to build their community, their future, and a future for the children. Did I not mention the children? There were hundreds of children. On our first day, we were joined by a dozen or so children with whom we played after finishing our lunches. We taught them games and songs and had some of those who spoke English help to translate. They called us "Barbies" and would feel our skin commenting on how beautiful it was and how beautiful we were. It was almost as if they were checking to see if we were real. As we returned a second and third day they began to look forward to our arrival. We would see them playing games with each other that we had taught them and we rarely would go 15 minutes without hearing a part of one of the songs we'd taught. Each day was filled with excitement at the prospect of going to this amazing place and not only helping to build houses (I did a lot of plastering) but having fun with the kids. There was a buzz around, a jolt of energy to the place that had once been so unfamiliar. We were able to work there for 8 days. At the beginning people would avert their eyes as we walked through the village that was on the way to our site or would occasionally venture to look at us. By the end of the week we were greeted every day with choruses of "hello" and "Goodbye! See you tomorrow!" by adults and children alike. It was easy to see that these people all had hope. They had something to look forward to and knew the lives of their children were going to be improved dramatically due to the efforts of GK.
On our final day, we had a day of just playing and celebrating. We played with the kids to start off the day and later they performed for us. The kids from the neighboring school did little dances and songs for us. Some of the beneficiaries did a Filipino folk dance. Then the beneficiary kids came up to perform. These were "our" kids - the ones we saw every day and had come to love. They got up and performed... one of the songs we'd taught them! When they finished one of their mothers explained "this was the first thing you taught our children and they wanted to let you know that they'll never forget you." Some of the mothers came up to us to tell us how much they'd miss us and that they'd never forget us, that we'd made such an impact on their children in just the short time we were there. They explained that they have hope that with other people like us in the world that we can make it a better place.
When we left there were lots of tears. There were tears of joy for the work that had been done and tears of sadness for the friends we won't see for a long time. They may not forget us, but we will never forget them. Whenever I think of the Philippines, I'll see the faces of Louie and Len Len and Winsy and Camille. I'll know what poverty looks like, yet how hope can shape the lives of those in poverty.
~Molly
If you're interested in Gawad Kalinga, you can find out more at gawadkalinga.org So far their model has been successfully replicated in parts of India and Africa in an effort to eradicate poverty and homelessness.
Sunday, November 9, 2008
Su Fu and So Forth...
Right now we are in Sioux Falls, SD. Our lovely fall weather has passed and we have officially hit winter. Today started off at 45 degrees and by the end had fallen to 23 degrees. Needless to say, I'm glad I had my mom bring my winter coat when she came.
Tonight I went with my host mom and roommate (Nathalie from Sweden) to the Ahn Trio concert. The Ahn Trio consists of three sisters - one cellist, one pianist, and one violinist. All are Juilliard trained and they play chamber music by contemporary composers. That was probably the most interesting part, the fact that the oldest composer represented by their pieces was Richard Rogers. Their performance was dynamic and passionate and they were all very talented. The theatre we were in, the Washington Pavilion, had some of the most amazing acoustics I've ever heard. Every pluck of the strings could be heard from the top of the balcony (or so I assume... We were in the 8th row Orchestra). Each note resonated and you could feel it in your chest. It was almost like the music became the air and you were just breathing in the harmonies. I enjoyed it immensely.
One of the basic concepts of improv theatre is pattern recognition. What is funny in a scene is when a specific action or theme returns and is played out in a parallel fashion. This is a skill improvisors must work to develop with the understanding that the more they are able to perceive what is unusual or funny about a scene, the better they are able to portray it to the audience. Those improvisors who are seen has being very perceptive, sharp, and funny are the ones who see the patterns easily and are able to play them. Why, you may ask, do I bring this up? I was thinking about it this evening when I got to the concert. This is my second tour with UWP. In my first tour, I only went to one concert... The 5 Browns. Five brothers and sisters, all Juilliard trained, who traveled together and performed. I'm just wondering what the third beat of this pattern is going to be, because I'm sure we're all aware of the comic rule of three.
We have our show in Sioux Falls tomorrow afternoon. We've already sold out the floor (2,000 seats) so it will be a nice big audience. We leave Monday for North Platte, NE and then the following Monday head to the Philippines. It's a wild ride and I'm hanging on tight.
~Molly
Tonight I went with my host mom and roommate (Nathalie from Sweden) to the Ahn Trio concert. The Ahn Trio consists of three sisters - one cellist, one pianist, and one violinist. All are Juilliard trained and they play chamber music by contemporary composers. That was probably the most interesting part, the fact that the oldest composer represented by their pieces was Richard Rogers. Their performance was dynamic and passionate and they were all very talented. The theatre we were in, the Washington Pavilion, had some of the most amazing acoustics I've ever heard. Every pluck of the strings could be heard from the top of the balcony (or so I assume... We were in the 8th row Orchestra). Each note resonated and you could feel it in your chest. It was almost like the music became the air and you were just breathing in the harmonies. I enjoyed it immensely.
One of the basic concepts of improv theatre is pattern recognition. What is funny in a scene is when a specific action or theme returns and is played out in a parallel fashion. This is a skill improvisors must work to develop with the understanding that the more they are able to perceive what is unusual or funny about a scene, the better they are able to portray it to the audience. Those improvisors who are seen has being very perceptive, sharp, and funny are the ones who see the patterns easily and are able to play them. Why, you may ask, do I bring this up? I was thinking about it this evening when I got to the concert. This is my second tour with UWP. In my first tour, I only went to one concert... The 5 Browns. Five brothers and sisters, all Juilliard trained, who traveled together and performed. I'm just wondering what the third beat of this pattern is going to be, because I'm sure we're all aware of the comic rule of three.
We have our show in Sioux Falls tomorrow afternoon. We've already sold out the floor (2,000 seats) so it will be a nice big audience. We leave Monday for North Platte, NE and then the following Monday head to the Philippines. It's a wild ride and I'm hanging on tight.
~Molly
Friday, October 3, 2008
Fiesta
Retelling our Mexican Independence Day experience reminded me of my 4th of July this year. For the first six weeks of this semester I lived with a delightful Uppie family north of Denver. My host dad works for the company and my host mom had worked for them for many years. They have two of the most picture-perfect kids as well.
For the 4th of July, we went to a party (yes, full of Uppie alums) at a house that backed up to a park with a lake. The fireworks were to be shot off over the lake. We couldn't have had better seats. The food was incredible with my favorite dessert being the homemade s'mores. That's right, homemade marshmallows, homemade graham crackers, and Nutella. Yum.
The fireworks display began with parachuters jumping from planes with fireworks attached to their feet. From there, things got beautiful. The fireworks were so close you could feel the pounding in your chest as they exploded. We had to look up because they were erupting right over our heads. The ashes fell on our blankets and the rooftops of the neighborhood, but we were entranced by the glittering sky. There was no way we could have been closer unless we'd been those parachuters. It was beautiful.
Well, we're back in the U.S. after five weeks in Mexico. This brings with it new challenges as well as new advantages to my job. I was able to have dinner with some of my family last week, which was delightful, but a bit surreal. I'm very used to having my life sectioned off. My New York friends all live in New York and are either school or improv friends. My San Francisco improv friends are separate from my San Francisco school friends, who are separate from my Bay Area Challenge Day friends. My Ohio family, California family, and Arizona family come together occasionally, but are pretty separated from my friends. Work has never really connected with any of the groups, so when two of my worlds collide it blows my mind a little.
There's a different feeling when I'm at work versus when I'm with my family. When you live in your work and are constantly surrounded by it, it's easy to fall into being always "on." Needless to say, driving out of one group and into another throws you for a loop. I realized I've never been to Arizona in the fall. I'm not sure if it was that or the fact that I was seeing it from a different point-of-view that made it seem like a whole new place. All the familiar landmarks came into view but were somehow different... or maybe it was me who was different.
We're in Albuquerque now. The cast is preparing for a show at the zoo where the stage is a hippo mouth. Just this morning we surprised the cast by announcing that we're going to the Balloon Fiesta tomorrow. Over 1000 hot air balloons are registered to take off tomorrow morning. All week we've told them we were doing a community service project at a landfill for which we need to leave at 3:30 in the morning because it's far away. In reality, we're leaving at 3:30 because 2/3 of the cast are going to be on launch crews for the balloons. This morning there were already dozens of balloons in the sky on our drive in. I can't wait for tomorrow.
Every time I see a hot air balloon I'm always reminded of this picture: http://good-times.webshots.com/photo/2923914240061776909ERyqyX?vhost=good-times I don't even know if we're going to see hot air balloons or if it's just my memory making up another story, but in my mind whenever I see a hot air balloon I see my dad in his furry hat with me strapped to his back. It should be a really exciting event.
Until we meet again,
~Molly
Saturday, September 20, 2008
How am I?
People often ask me how my job is. Truth be told, it goes up and down. Up With People is an emotional roller coaster to begin with, having the natural ups and downs of life magnified by being on the road away from any constants except for the 100 people you see all day 6 days a week. There are moments that are frustrating and disappointing, moments when you're so tired you can barely function or too busy to even eat. Then there are the moments that make it all worth it. There are families who touch your heart, who will never forget you and who have kids who ask where you are for months following your departure. There are places you visit that are breathtakingly beautiful and experiences you wouldn't be able to have in another context. There are little things that show up along the road to remind you why you're here.
Then there are the people. When asked if I'm homesick, the answer is always "no." That's not due to a lack of love for home, but due to the fact that the only times I've ever really been homesick are when I'm not happy where I am. I've always been confident in the relationship I have with my family. I don't need to see them or hear from them every day to know that they love me. I know that though they miss seeing me from time to time, they just want me to be happy. The people I'm surrounded by are all united by a common vision - to make the world a better place. Idealistic? Perhaps, but I'd rather live by my ideals than give up on the world we live in. We all know that it only takes one person to make a difference in another's life, and we sing it all the time, "One to one we change the world."
I've noticed that we always talk about changing others' lives, and the thing we don't often realize is how our own life changes in the process. So many of the students talk about how they don't feel like they're impacting others' lives, and then I see how theirs has been impacted. They don't see how helping a child with cancer to smile is making a difference, and then I see the look on their face and realize that they just want to be able to do more than that. They feel helpless sometimes. In the end, if the only thing that changes is ourselves then I think we've succeeded. The thing is, though, that I know how much of an impact we've made already.
Have I changed? Yes. I look at my life now and know there are things that are a part of me forever. After this experience, I won't be able to do "nothing" with my life. All those free days I used to have I realize were wasted opportunities. Opportunities to volunteer. Opportunities to explore the place I live. Opportunities to explore new places. Opportunities to bond with other people. These are all things I value but never realized all the opportunities I had. My days now are filled. From early morning to late evening I'm constantly active, sometimes at so frantic a pace I feel my body won't keep up. I won't keep the pace up forever, but I'll always have the knowledge that I can. There are so many hours in a day.
One thing that living on the road gives you is the knowledge of who takes the time to connect with you and who you take the time to connect with. Living in a place you have many acquaintances who you see a lot. Going away helps you to see those that really care for you and who think about you from time to time. It's also an opportunity for me to see who I miss and think about and to let them know.
What is it that I do? I am currently coordinating logistics for a 6-month international tour of 107 young adults from 21 countries, while doing community service, performing in a show, and living in host families in a different city each week.
So you ask once again, "How is my job?" It's crazy and fun and stressful and delightful and enlightening and strengthening and educational and exhausting and unique and important and hard and surprising and magical. That's how it is, and it's the perfect place for me to be at this point in my life.
~Molly
Then there are the people. When asked if I'm homesick, the answer is always "no." That's not due to a lack of love for home, but due to the fact that the only times I've ever really been homesick are when I'm not happy where I am. I've always been confident in the relationship I have with my family. I don't need to see them or hear from them every day to know that they love me. I know that though they miss seeing me from time to time, they just want me to be happy. The people I'm surrounded by are all united by a common vision - to make the world a better place. Idealistic? Perhaps, but I'd rather live by my ideals than give up on the world we live in. We all know that it only takes one person to make a difference in another's life, and we sing it all the time, "One to one we change the world."
I've noticed that we always talk about changing others' lives, and the thing we don't often realize is how our own life changes in the process. So many of the students talk about how they don't feel like they're impacting others' lives, and then I see how theirs has been impacted. They don't see how helping a child with cancer to smile is making a difference, and then I see the look on their face and realize that they just want to be able to do more than that. They feel helpless sometimes. In the end, if the only thing that changes is ourselves then I think we've succeeded. The thing is, though, that I know how much of an impact we've made already.
Have I changed? Yes. I look at my life now and know there are things that are a part of me forever. After this experience, I won't be able to do "nothing" with my life. All those free days I used to have I realize were wasted opportunities. Opportunities to volunteer. Opportunities to explore the place I live. Opportunities to explore new places. Opportunities to bond with other people. These are all things I value but never realized all the opportunities I had. My days now are filled. From early morning to late evening I'm constantly active, sometimes at so frantic a pace I feel my body won't keep up. I won't keep the pace up forever, but I'll always have the knowledge that I can. There are so many hours in a day.
One thing that living on the road gives you is the knowledge of who takes the time to connect with you and who you take the time to connect with. Living in a place you have many acquaintances who you see a lot. Going away helps you to see those that really care for you and who think about you from time to time. It's also an opportunity for me to see who I miss and think about and to let them know.
What is it that I do? I am currently coordinating logistics for a 6-month international tour of 107 young adults from 21 countries, while doing community service, performing in a show, and living in host families in a different city each week.
So you ask once again, "How is my job?" It's crazy and fun and stressful and delightful and enlightening and strengthening and educational and exhausting and unique and important and hard and surprising and magical. That's how it is, and it's the perfect place for me to be at this point in my life.
~Molly
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