25 Things to do While I am 25

I was recently inspired to make a list of 25 things I wanted to do in my 25th year on this great planet.  Since I don't have much else going on, I figured it would be something positive and productive to focus on.  Granted, some of the things on the list are kind of bizarre and random, but I guess that is what you get with me.  I decided to share some of the things on my list (some, not all), and document the progress I am making.  This way, with the public watching, I will be more motivated.  (Feel free to get on me about not getting though enough of these things fast enough because I do procrastinate.)

1. Date someone- This means going on at least 3 dates with the same person with some sort of romantic intentions (Side note: if this goal was to eat 3 dates with someone in the general area, I would have had this one whipped only days after my birthday.  Unfortunately, actual progress on this goal is dismal, at best.)

2. Visit a new country- If all goes as planned, this will be happening in April with Kelley.

3. Learn to Dougie- This one was actually accomplished only days after my birthday by watching a YouTube video of Cali Swag District teaching me how to Dougie. 

4. Run a 10K- Although this is going to be harder than bricks (running on pavement every day is giong to kill my shins, and probably my whole body), I think I can do it.

5. Read a classic novel- Like I have never done this before or something.  I just needed some things that would be easier and more enjoyable to accomplish.

6. Go golfing- The real reason I want to do this is due to the reason the Scots put 18 holes in a round of golf: There are 18 shots in a fifth of scotch.

7. Work on my memoir- It's not even February, and I already have at least starts on three chapters.  Now I just need help with revisions to (hopefully) make it something I don't hate.  Not even something to publish (although, I am sure it will be published and sold along side Tropic of Cancer by the time I am 30).  Just something I don't hate.

8. Return to Chile- No explanation needed.

9. Learn the rest of the words to Ludacris's "Fantasy"- I have been trying to learn all of the words for about 5 years now, but I figure now that I am 25, I should focus and learn those last few lines.

10. Get a camera- Since I got robbed in Valpo, I haven't had a real camera.  I loved my film camera, and I always will love film.  But I think I am going to look for a digital SLR this time.  Now I just need to find a really good deal on one...

11. Do  this and this with said camera- And really, I would love for my friends to make lists of things for more photo challenges.  I love finding the beauty in simple and everyday things.

12. Lose at least five pounds- I have been trying to do this since summer 2010, but I will do it this year!  And ideally, the pounds will just keep falling off once I get on a roll.

13. Kiss someone at midnight on New Year's Eve- Let's be honest.  This isn't going to happen.

14. Hiking and camping adventure- My biggest obsticle with this one, is that I am going to have to do it by myself, and I think I would enjoy it significantly more if there was at least one other person to share the experience with.  But I suppose that is part of the challenge, eh?

This isn't everything on my list, but it is most of it.  My list is still lacking a few things, so if anybody has any ideas, I would love to hear them!

The Simple Life

The evolution of a mindset from appreciation to overwhelmed by excess is an interesting one.  While I was hanging out in Africa, I started to think about how much I really appreciate the advantages I have here in the US and the standard of living we are afforded.  My appreciation for these things was not born in Africa, but it definitely came full circle and exploded while I was there.  Being and living in a place where electricity is scarce and safety is questionable gives an entirely different meaning to having unlimited hot showers after a long run outside and then staying up late reading.

Since being back, I have become less and less thankful for these things I have and more and more overwhelmed and fed up with the excess of it all.  I don't need 18 different options of butter and butter substitutes.  Nor do I need 29 varieties of pre-packaged spaghetti sauce.  I will surely survive without a constant connection to the internet via my phone, and in fact, I sometimes think I would survive better without a phone period.  When I look in the cupboards and see everything preserved and pre-packaged, I still get a little confused about what I am supposed to do. 

Everything you could possibly imagine (and even some things you would never imagine existing outside a Sci-Fi novel) are casually and easily consumed here.  I don't like it.  I miss my simple life of living out of a suitcase, and I miss the challenge of every day living.  (Remember when I had to figure out an alternative for brown sugar when I was trying to bake cookies in a questionable oven at an altitude that probably doesn't permit good cookie baking?)  The constant learning and simplicity of the developing world have captured me and aren't going to let me comfortably stay in the US.  I don't cry about it anymore, but I am still antsy with anticipation of when I can return to the simple life.  

Fuck It. I'm Going Out.

One humid summer evening, after my third year at Iowa, I got talked into going out.  I was gross from the hot and sticky day, but I changed my shirt, put on some deodorant, and called it good enough. On my way walking downtown, I ran into someone I knew, and he told me, “You look like you said, ‘Fuck it; I’m going out.’”  I thanked him for the great confidence boost and went on my way.  I guess I appreciated the honesty.

A couple of years later, during a spring storm, the power went out.  Travis crept downstairs with a candle to find me, and took me up to his apartment.  When we went outside to see the storm, we realized that we were the only block around that didn’t have power (and there wasn't much of a storm to see).  Since the rest of town had power, that meant that downtown still had power.  We decided that it would probably be best if we just went downtown where there would be lights, so we got ready in the dark and played a couple of rounds of fuck the dealer and pyramid by candle light and went out.  We called it Blackout Friday. 

Here in Tanzania, every time we go out, it feels like a combination of these two nights:

First, I always feel like I said, “Fuck it; I’m going out.”  Sometimes, this is actually the case.  I never spend too much time getting ready, and the clothes I am wearing are rarely clean (and by clean, I mean I hand washed them, which I am terrible at, so they really aren’t that clean even when they are “clean”.  I try to pick clothes that don’t smell too bad though).  I don’t have anything too fancy to wear, so I am never really flossy flossy.  And the nicest things I wear are probably the clothes I borrow from Jenni.  But fuck it; I still go out.

Second, I am usually getting ready without power (and therefore no lights or hot water, and sometimes no running water), just like on Blackout Friday.  I think there has only been one night* when we had power while getting ready, and it actually didn’t come on until part way through our getting ready and eating.  Here is me trying to wash the Masai market dirt out of my hair before getting ready to go out for Jenni’s last Saturday night. 

Bucket Washing

Even though we had to wash our hair and legs out of a bucket, we all shined up like new pennies (or should I say Tanzania shillings?).  Look how safari-like we look

The Safari at Empire Bar- Sema Yes Rasta!

 And here is one of me helping Kelley wash her hair before that distaster of a night at Via Via where we met a creepy Barak Obama/Tiger Woods look a like, but also did some intense bonding.

Me and Kelley Washing Hair

Again, I would say we ended up looking pretty good.

The Crew Outside Via Via

It makes me smile to think that I regularly get ready for a night out in the dark, and the smile gets even bigger when I think about the fact that a bunch of other people are in the same boat.  Half of Arusha could be without power, but the club will still be poppin’.  The club might not even have power, and it will still be poppin'.  It seems weird to me now to think of getting ready and putting makeup on with lights on.

*This sounds like I go out all the time, but this is not the case.  I have only been out a few times; it isn’t like I am going out dancing and making an ass of myself at Masai Camp every night of the week.  And the one time the power came back on, we had already brought water in and washed our hair out of buckets because we were so dirty from being in town. 

We Aren't Going to be Friends Anymore

Back when I was looking for TEFL jobs and finishing up my certification, I was spending a lot of time upstairs with (who I consider to be) my good friend, Travis.  We hadn't been good friends for a long time, despite the fact that we both been involved in debate for several years.  This being said, our friendship was young and fragile, but I kind of enjoyed being friends with him.  I assume he kind of liked me being his friend as well.

Does this not look like a friendship that will last?

And then I started looking for jobs teaching English abroad, and when I found out I actually got a job, Travis told me we wouldn't be friends anymore.  His reasoning was simple: Friendship is dependent on convenience and therefore, proximity.  Being 5,000 miles apart would not be conducive to furthering our friendship because I would just be too far away.  My love of Latin America ended up winning out over my love of Travis, and off I went.  And our friendship lasted.

But I have thought a lot about this since Travis told me we wouldn't be friends anymore.

First of all, I think a lot of the friends I made while in South America and Africa were made for the exact reason that Travis said we wouldn't be friends anymore: convenience and proximity.  I obviously wouldn't have made these friends if I had gone somewhere else.  And I was probably initially friends with most of these people only because we were living in the same area and didn't know another living soul (or at least, we didn't know very many other living souls).  This is not to say that I didn't appreciate these friendships.  Just that the initial connection with these people was thanks to convenience. 

Which brings me to why I daily think about what Travis said to me: I have been terrible at keeping up with my friends.  I have find it increasingly difficult to stay caught up with what and how my friends are doing.  And time zones makes this even more difficult.  Being so far apart means that every aspect of our lives are different, which means either 1. The level of commonality between my friends and I has dropped significantly, 2. A shit ton of explanation is needed for any life events, or 3. A combination of 1 and 2.  I think it's the latter.

On a more lighthearted and fun note, I get to go visit one of these friends!  Luckily, she only lives in Chicago, which makes the proximity issue much more manageable.  It should be a blast and then some.

I miss all of my friends from all over the world.  Well, I guess only 5 continents, but close enough to all over the world.  I hope I get to see you all again soon!  Reunions need to happen.

Peace and Love

Hawk Fans Around the World

The extend of Hawkeye fandom never ceases to amaze me.  Not that all of the people I have met that recognized my Iowa hoodie are necessarily fans, and not that the people I see wearing Iowa clothing are necessarily fans.  The case is probably more that they have no idea what they are wearing, they just want to wear this cool American sporting gear they saw in the shops.  In fact, if you talk to many of the people wearing clothing with American sports on them, they probably have no idea what they are wearing except that it is American and has something to do with sports.  So I have two stories:

When I was in Chile, there were several stores around that sold second hand clothes, and, I am not at all kidding, LSU and Drake (yes, Drake*) t-shirts were about $15.  Second hand.  But never would I have thought a young Chilean man would come up to me, of all the people that club, and ask me to dance when he was wearing an.... Iowa State t-shirt.  I had to explain to him (in terms of Chilean soccer rivals) that I couldn't dance with an Iowa State fan like that.  I couldn't dance with the enemy.  He kept insisting that he had no idea what this "Iowa State" was on his t-shirt, so I gave him the benefit of the doubt and danced with him.  Here we are before I finally gave in and danced with him:

Chilean Iowa State Fan

Let's cross the Atlantic, to Africa.  While I was in Tanzania, I got the opportunity to go out to the middle of nowhere to a legit Maasai market.  You can read more about the Maasai people on the Wikipedia page.  But out in the middle of this market, in the middle of nothing, Tanzania, I found a young girl wearing a... Hawkeye t-shirt.  I was so excited.  I wanted to take her picture, but since the Maasai believe taking photos of people also takes their soul, she literally ran away when I asked if I could take her picture.  However, I was sneeky and pretended to take a picture of something else when really I was taking a picture of her.  I really hope I didn't steal her soul.

Maasai Hawk Fan

I know it is kind of hard to see, but there is deffinately a tiger hawk on her shirt.  Amazing.

Hopefully, this will inspire Iowa to play well and not make me fret so much. 

*As a side note, I think Drake clothing is the American clothing for a university I have seen the most when abroad.  I have seen t-shirts and sweatshirts at least in Chile, Argentina, and Tanzania.  I also haven't seen any professional sporting teams so well represented either.

A Fredship Story

You may think I accidently misspelled “friendship”, but that is not the case.  Because a Fredship is so much more than a friendship.  A Fredship involves a goat-friend named Fred and ends with Fred being thrown on the fire and everybody eating him.

First, you have to meet Fred.  We journeyed out to the mbuzi (goat) market to find ‘trollin’ for a nice looking (and reasonably priced) goat to take home.  It was quite an experience, and I don’t think I can quite fit it into words.  The market itself was just an open area with goats and men in their shukas scattered all around.  But when the mzungus and the rasta tumbled out of the minibus, they grabbed their goats and started to show them off, yelling “Mzungu!  Mzungu!  Rasta!  Rasta!”  Jenni settled on a nice spotted fellow that she lovingly named Fred.  

Fred

 

We tied Fred up in the back for the ride home where he pooped a lot and made a bit of a mess.  He was bleating a lot at first.  I think he was just wondering what kind of party he was getting taken to with this bus load of mzungus, but he quieted down after a bit.  Every once in awhile, he would have to bleat to remind us he was still there though.  And everyone would kind of laugh at the situation of being in a minibus with a goat tied up in the back to take home to slaughter. 

Fred, in the back of the minibus with the coal he will be cooked over

 We got him back to Peace Matunda, and he had a great time hanging out  with us.  Jenni and I really bonded with him.  We both fed him and I even tried to ride him.

Jenni Feeding Fred

Me Ridding Fred

This is where the Fredship story starts to get a bit graphic, so I will warn you now: you probably want to turn back now if you have a weak stomach or are a member of PETA.

Banana leaves were laid out for Fred’s (literal) death bed.  But I think he was slightly confused about what was going on because he kept trying to eat his death bed.  I guess I might keep trying to eat my death bed too if it was made out of banana leaves.  So, I stood next to Fred and kept my leg out to keep him from the leaves.  This got Fred really excited, and he even put the excitement in his mouth.  I never knew I turned goats on so much, but I am  Capricorn, so it makes sense.  And I did try ridding him, so maybe he got the wrong idea.

Fred met his death with a quick slice across the throat, and our watchman cut him up and skinned him.  It was actually amazing to watch, and not nearly as bloody or messy as I thought it was going to be.  Some of the kids even hung out to watch with us.  And Corfield got right in there and claimed the hooves for himself.

Corfield with Fred's Feet

After Fred was all skinned and cut up, he was ready to marinate and cook.  And once the sun went down, we threw him on the grill, and the party got started. 

Fred on Fire

I am a vegetarian, but my dietary decisions are not deeply rooted in the idea that eating meat is cruel to animals.  There are other reasons that come well before the cruelty to animals argument. This being said, I decided to try a bite of Fred (because eating Fred is not really in serious violation of my vegetarian decisions).  And I still have absolutely no desire to eat meat again (unless it is to try new and unusual species).  I also kind of enjoy the face Sean is making at me as I put the meat in my mouth.

Eating Fred

To top off the evening, we had the pleasure of experiencing a total lunar eclipse!  It was so beautiful, and it was kind of amazing to see a lunar eclipse in Tanzania.

Currently listening to: Bongo Flava (again).  I am practicing learning two of lines, but the hard part is trying to rap that fast in Kiswahili.  I will succeed though.  I will succeed.  (As an update, I did succeed.  I can now sing in Swahili.)



PS- Danielle kept Fred's beard, and I think she still has it.  I don't remember what she said she did with it... maybe gave it to the dog or something?  I will have to investigate and let you know.

Making Kahawa

Spoiler Alert!  This story gives away what I am going to be bringing back for my grandmothers, so if  you are one of my grandmothers and you want it to be a surprise, stop reading now.  If you are not one of my grandmothers, feel free to read, but don’t tell them what they are getting.

Besides tourism, Tanzania is also known for it’s coffee (or kahawa in Swahili) industry.  Here at Peace Matunda, cultural tours are offered, and part of the tour is making coffee.  As in roasting and grinding by hand. Not putting some grounds in a percolator.  Since both of my grandmothers like coffee, I thought it would be cool to make them some while I was here so I can take them back some coffee that was ground with love.

Here is a picture of the beans and the flower from the coffee tree.  

Kahawa Beans and Flower

 But when you buy it at the market, the outer shell has been taken off and it has been dried.  After waiting for the beans to dry, you have to grind them to get the flaky outer shell off the beans.  And to separate the flakes from the beans, you flip them up and around and let the wind whisk away the flakes and leave the beans.  I was completely unable to do this, but Bella is a pro.

Bella Flipping Beans

 

 

We were finally ready to start the roasting.  We put the beans in a small pot over a fire and stirred and stirred so they didn’t burn.  We were allowed to stir for shorts periods of time, but we were always told to give the spoon back to let the experts do it.  I was never pole pole enough.   

Me Stirring Kahawa Beans

Once they turn a nice dark brown color, it was time to dump them in the grinder thingy and start pounding.  Pounding the roasted beans by hand could become a tedious process, and it was definitely an arm workout.  And we had 10 kilograms of coffee to roast and pound.  Even though it was tough, we split it up over a period of several days (and really, it was more like several weeks), and made a rule to not drink any bokery or banana beer until the roasting and pounding of the day was done.  Here is me getting serious about the pounding:

Serious Pounding