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Self

Africa’s ubuntu

October 23, 2010

There’s an old saying that a single straw from a broom can be broken, but together they are strong.

The Africans call that ubuntu, the philosophy that we are all part of an interconnected web, rooted in acts of kindness and generosity. It means that the way we treat others is more important than our individual accomplishments.

Basically, you can’t be human all by yourself.

I’m seeing ubuntu everywhere as I travel throughout South Africa.

At Bulungula, a woman shared a piece of bread with her son, who in turn, tore it into four more pieces and gave it to his friends.

Inside a local shebeen (bar), the revelers happily slung a paint can full of sorgham beer my way, offering me a sip.

In Johannesburg, a generous couple fed me, opened their home to me and basically treated me as if I was family.

While trying to find the correct minibus in Durban, my friends were told the correct bus was located several blocks away. “Hop in,” the minibus driver said. “I’ll take you there.”

Those simple acts of kindness are hard to resist, and I’ve found myself being a little more open, letting my guard down more than usual. I finally gave in completely yesterday in Durban, when a man approached me on the street. He pointed at my oversized, reusable Nalgene water bottle.

“Can I have a sip?” he said.

It caught me off guard, so I asked him to repeat what he said.

“Your water. Can I have a sip?” Then he elaborated, “I have been eating the peanuts. They are very salty.”

He was a worker who shuttled people into the minibuses all day long. He worked on a block far from any cafe, restaurant or store. There really wasn’t any other water nearby. And even though the wary, distrusting part of me was screaming no, I handed the bottle over.

He drank nearly all of it, handed it back and beamed in delight. Then he said, “Sala,” which is Zulu for “Stay well.”

 

On bravery

October 22, 2010

I didn’t feel very brave when we encountered two puff adders flinging themselves across the hiking trail in TsiTsikamma. The deadly snakes were either in the throes of passion or the throes of violence — or perhaps a sadistic combination of the two.

Deborah walked right up to them, mere inches away, where snake venom could easily meet toe.

I was too nervous for that. As much as I wanted to get closer to the action, I couldn’t seem to make my feet go. So I stood back, relying on my camera’s zoom function to snag a few photos.

I did not feel very brave then. And because I endlessly compare myself with others, I wondered what was wrong with me. What was wrong with me? Why couldn’t I spit in danger’s face? Why was I such a wuss?

I thought about this for a long time, long after we made a wide path around the sexing snakes and walked away.

I’ve decided that courage wears different faces. Even though I can toss my worries away long enough to skydive, I don’t necessarily have the same kind of courage it takes to get within inches of unpredictable reptiles.

I also think this trip takes a lot of courage. Sometimes simply asking directions of a stranger, trusting them to send me in the right direction, can be an act of bravery. Sometimes it means walking into a laundromat, a post office or a grocery store when you don’t speak the language. Sometimes just venturing out of my hostel feels like the most brave thing in the world.

And that’s OK.

 

80 days later

September 25, 2010

It’s been 80 days since I ventured away from home and set off on the road.

In that time, Phileas Fogg made it all the way around the world, while I’ve only been through one continent. But, oh my, what a trip this has already been!

In that short period of time I’ve:

Been cleansed by a shaman.

Learned to shoot a blowgun with an Amazonian tribe.

Got cuddled by dozens of monkeys — and bitten by one.

Slept (poorly) on 9 overnight buses.

Hiked the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu with my husband.

Seen mummies, dinosaur footprints and the world’s largest salt flats.

Stayed out all night in Buenos Aires.

Had a Bolivian woman urinate on my backpack.

Seen pink dolphins.

Drank pisco in Pisco.

Flown over the Nazca lines.

Attended my first football game.

Spent the night with a family on Lake Titicaca.

Answered the eternal question — can bikini bottoms double as underwear?

Nearly purchased a rum distillery.

I’ve learned a lot about myself while traveling, but mostly I’ve learned a lot about the world. I still marvel over the fact that every day brings me to streets I’ve never seen before, surrounded by people I’ve never met, in places I never knew existed.

Before I began this trip I wondered how travel would change me, and now I wonder how it won’t.

Here’s to the next 80 days!

 

Peru wrap-up

August 13, 2010

Some call Peru “the catalog of the world,” and for good reason — the country boasts a little bit of everything.

I started this trip with some knowledge of that diversity, but I was still in awe of what I found. From deserts to thick rainforest canopies, Peru really does have it all. It’s a downright magical place.

I think I’ll always have a special place in my heart for this country. Not only is it the place where I leapt out of my old life and into my new career as round-the-world adventurer, but it’s also where I spent my honeymoon.

Together, The Husband and I tackled the Inca Trail, and he cheered me on when things got rough.

Together we explored the Amazon and saw things we never could have imagined. He also nursed all my bug bites with “dragon’s blood” from a shaman, including a few welts from a spider who was determined to know me intimately.

And together, we just spent a lot of time enjoying each other.

I know there’s value in solo travel and in traveling with your friends — both of which I’ll get to know better as this trip progresses.

But there was something particularly special about starting this journey with my new husband — and learning how love can grow even bigger in places we never expected.

 

Appreciating what you have

July 2, 2010

With less than a week to go before Deborah and I launch this wild adventure, I’m already starting to get a little homesick.

Of course I’m looking forward to traveling. Of course.

But I think some freaky woo-woo stuff must be going on, because I swear home has never looked so good. Lately on my morning walks, I just have to stand still for a few seconds to soak in all the goodness.

These things I’ve taken for granted, now they all seem to be hitting me at once. The desert has never looked so stunning.

My adorable little Lemon has never been so sweet and cuddly.

My husband has never been this handsome or fun or downright amazing.

My apartment has never seemed so appealing.

My friends have never been this witty or entertaining, and I have never loved them so fiercely.

And Kung Pao Kitten … well, you know. He’s kind of manic depressive. But I love him anyway.

Even the most mundane things are starting to seem exciting and wonderful, since I’m going to mostly do without for the next year. Like toilets — how great are those things? You can flush ’em and everything! And there’s even toilet paper on the wall right there!

And hot showers. Man, those are awesome.

I’m beginning to realize that while travel is about seeing new sights, learning about new cultures and making connections with new people, it’s also about appreciating what you already have.

Funny how a trip around the world helps you discover the richness of home.