Crazy Girl

There was this girl in the first yoga class I ever took. Jen and I admiringly called her 'Crazy Girl.' She wore sparkly jeans to class, had wild hair that she never pulled back and was bubbly in a way that made her perfect for a job in retail. That spring at a yoga retreat we were silently walking around the Ottawa valley enjoying the calming bliss of too much yoga when we were interrupted by Crazy Girl running down the hill screaming "I'm Alive! I'm Alive!

The thing is, once you hit puberty there are only select activities where individual joyous yelling is generally appropriate. Roller coasters, sporting events and protests come to mind. But these are noisy places anyway. It takes a little stepping outside yourself to break through the normal everyday noise level with a little whoohoo.

As you may have already heard, I am living in hilly windy Wellington and have rejoined the ranks as a cyclecommuter. (wow- that word was acceptable to spellcheck) Anyway, there are couple of thrilling descents on my commute into town. They often remind me of Crazy Girl, because I'm sure as I 'Whee' and 'Whoohoo' my way downtown, I'm earning a similar nickname.

Something in the Air

The weather is very changeable in the mountains around Rabinal, Guatemala. Sunny afternoons could hide thunderstorms like a magician hides rabbits. Then pull them out of unusual places to surprise and stun the unsuspecting public. I spent four months in Rabinal and inevitably, from time to time, my gringo body protested against the foreign conditions. Whenever this happened, the locals had an explanation. I had caught too much air. Too much air could produce any mulititude of symptoms. Too tired? Too much air. Can't sleep? Too much air. Sick to your stomach? Too much air. Not hungry? Too much air. We used to roll our eyes and joke that hangovers were also the result of too much 'air.'

But they knew something I didn't, something I wouldn't understand until I started golfing in Wellington. Too much air can make you sick. Today I came in from the 18th hole feeling awful. My ears felt like they had been boxed by a monkey on crack, waves of pain were crashing against the left side of my skull and I was queasy. I had caught too much air.

But after a nap, a hot shower and a burger all I remember is my hat poetically blowing off, that satisfying drive off the 14th tee and those lucky putts.

(The picture is a dust storm in Mongolia. It was pretty windy there too!)

A Year Late(r)

There is no excuse. This post is a year late. Sorry about that. Here we are again at the start of another holiday season. To get you in a festive mood, I have adapted a holiday favorite to bring you all up to date:

The Twelve Months I Didn't Blog (sing along! everyone!)

On the first month I didn't blog (December)
my computer got a virus.*
But its all good now, hooray, yipee!

On the second month I didn't blog (January)
I moved to Illinois**
And its all good now, hooray, yipee!

On the third month I didn't blog (February)
I O.D.ed on Lawerence Welk,
Moved to Illinois,
And its all good now, hooray, yipee!

On the forth month I didn't blog (March)
I came to New Zealand,
O.D.ed on Lawerence Welk,
Moved to Illinois,
And its all good now, hooray, yipee!

On the fifth month I didn't blog (April)
Ro-o-oad trip!***
Came to New Zealand,
O.D.ed on Lawerence Welk,
Moved to Illinois,
And its all good now, hooray, yipee!

On the sixth month I didnt blog (May)
I moved to Wellington...
And its all good now, hooray, yipee!

On the seventh month I didn't blog (June)
I got another bicycle...
And its all good now, hooray, yipee!

On the eighth month I didn't blog (July)
I started my masters degree...****
and its all good now, hooray, yipee!

On the ninth month I didn't blog (August)
Not much happened...
And its all good now, hooray yipee!

On the tenth month I didnt blog (September)
I learned to play golf...
And its all good now, hooray, yipee!

On the eleventh month I didnt blog (October)
I survived Wellington winter...
And its all good now, hooray, yipee!

On the twelfth month I didn't blog (November)
I made plans to come home again...
And is all good now, Hooray, YipEE!

Happy Holidays!


* Ubuntu (and Elmo) you are awesome.
** I was lucky to have the time to spend with my fantastic Aunt Jan and Grammy.
***By car unfortunately, b ut NZ is still a beautiful place.
**** In Applied Linguistics (ESL) at Victoria University. It's going really well.

Homecoming

Last Wednesday I lied. The box on the US immigration form was too small to 'list all countries visited on this trip'. I stopped to count. 17 countries. Instead, I simply wrote Spain and Turkey. When I handed the stiff form and my dog-eared trail-battered passport to the officer he said 'Wow, Spain AND Turkey!' Yep. Wow.

I am settling into my sisters apartment in New York. I've spent the past week wandering around Brooklyn and sampling all the foods that I couldn't wait to have once I got back to the states, root beer floats and bagels with lox and cream cheese...

Thankfully the park is nearby to counteract these caloric reunions. Today I went for my first bike ride since I hurt my shoulder. It went well until we hit some cobblestones. Then I had to walk home. But it felt good to be back in motion.

True to form I am still behind in blogging and am just now posting some photos from Turkey. Check back soon for more posts to keep you busy over the Thanksgiving holiday.

My Students

Unable to cycle, I found myself with a lot of time on my hands. So I volunteered to teach English at the local high school in Ishkashim.
It was easy. They were the most eager to learn and well behaved teenagers Ive ever seen. Every hand in the class shot up in the air whenever I asked a question or needed a volunteer. They almost convinced me to stay. Instead I promised to send them a box with English books.

Afgan Market

Ishkashim is right on the boarder with Afganistan. Every Saturday police line the bridge and let Tajiks and tourists cross the river to the Afgan market. They sell all sorts of things, fabric, clothes, blankets, spices, dyes, medicines, cookies, fruit, and toys.
I hesitated to post this photo but we were all laughing when I took it. This man was selling toy guns. I pointed to the guns and said ´Afganinstan´in a voice full of false fear. He laughed and pointed one at me. Its red lights lit up and made a whirring sound. We laughed even harder.

Gulmama

Gulmama is the man who put my shoulder back together. He thinks I am a big baby. Everytime he sees me with my arm in a sling hequestiones his eyebrows together, tsks his tongue and waives his had dismissively. I dont understand what he says but I imagine it translates something along the lines of ´What the hell is this for?´or ´Get back on your bicycle already!´