Under the Milky Way

Traveling can put you in limbo. It’s in between places, destinations, cities, country sides. It’s blurred pictures, scenary, suns, moon, clouds. It’s changing time zones, ecology, climates, and soils. It’s full of anticipation of the next destination, the next adventures, and the strangers who will intrigue you with new conversations and points of view. It’s also feeling sadness of leaving the last place, the understanding of that place that you worked to build, and the companions that you made. Traveling from one place to another can feel like floating in thin air or on open water—completely free—or it can feel suffocating tight with anxiety of just wanting to be there. These emotions can easily pull you from the present. They can mute your senses of what’s around you at that moment, at that space in time, at that second of your life that you’ll never get back. I know lots of people (me included sometimes) who take sleeping pills or other drugs/alcohol to numb these feel...

After a week of rest and recovery (sort of) in Windhoek, I decided it was time to get down to the work exchange I'd organized to do down in the remote, coastal town of Luderitz. Honestly, I was getting bored of playing tourist and ready to get back to doing meaningful work. I hitched a ride down to Keetmanskoop, a small, commercial town about five hours south of Windhoek. When I arrived, I was actually lucky enough to meet two Peace Corps Volunteers living there. It was great swapping info on our two countries for a bit. Then I did some wandering around town...although there wasn't a whole lot to see. The guy I'm doing the work exchange with (his name is Giel for future reference) was kind enough to drive over 350km to come pick me up in Keetmans, so I was happy to have a safe and reliable ride into Luderitz. The scenery on the drive, before it got dark, was pretty amazing as the sunset painted the sky orange-y yellow and in the far off distance we could see lines of rain...

Well, I’ve switched countries again! Now I’m in Namibia, which lies on the Southwestern coast of Africa surrounded by South Africa, Botswana, and Angola. I’ve had exceptional luck in my post-PC travels so far. On the first day at Afrikaburn I met a very friendly guy from Namibia who gave me a ride up to Windhoek, the capital city. When we arrived, he offered to let me couchsurf at his apartment, so that’s what I’ve been doing along with exploring the city by foot and trying to take some time to relax from all the recent traveling and excitement. The drive up here took about 16 hours, and there were three of us in the truck. Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately) I couldn’t help with driving since it was a manual transmission, so my contribution to the drive was conversation and keeping the drivers awake. I actually learned about Namibia’s history, environment, and economy during these conversations, so I really enjoyed them. When we started out, the landscape was full of fr...

I’m slowly beginning to adjust to developed world life. I’m getting used to the daily HOT showers, brushing my teeth in a sink, busy sidewalks and roads, and a whole plethora of food and drink options. What still overwhelms me though is walking into a mall or store and the amount of colors, lights, and mirrors coming from all directions and that completely put me into sensory overload. We walked into H&M, and I felt like I’ve fallen into a snow globe. I know I went from a rural village to a major city in the span of a few days, but WHOA. Walking through the mall shopping center, I felt like I had ADHD with the amount of things to see, smell, and hear, all while I have to walk and figure out where I’m going?! A simple trip to a pharmacy today made my brain feel like it was firing in a million different directions making it impossible for me to focus on what I was even in there for. Why are there so many options!? And what is it with mirrors? They’re so confusing! ...

Reverse culture shock. You don’t think it will actually happen. But then it creeps up on you. Going from Malawi, even the capital in Malawi, to Cape Town, South Africa has been like going from zero to 10,000. There are so many choices at the grocery store, so many expensive cars and pothole-less roads, so many smartphones, and so many women wearing trousers and leggings all around. The skyscrapers are enormously tall and construction of new ones is happening with massive mechanical machines. People rush around with headphones in, completely tuned out of the world and their surroundings. Shops are chock-full of material goods, all set up enticingly, and restaurants have so many food options. People are a beautiful blend of mixed races and cultures. There are wide sidewalks, pedestrian crosswalks, and stoplights. The produce and meats at the grocery store are all wrapped up in plastic. I feel so lost and over stimulated. What happened to my simple, village life? ...

I will sleep tonight with an extremely heavy heart and puffy, red eyes. Today I had to leave my home here in Malawi.  I remember my ideas about Peace Corps and Africa before I left America. Like most people who have never been to Africa and who often only hear about the bad things that happen here, I was intimidated and a bit scared about the idea of living in a rural village by myself. My going away parties were difficult—I thought they would be the hardest goodbyes I’d ever face. Not seeing so many people I care deeply about for two years; I couldn’t even imagine it.   But today was hard in a different kind of way. Saying goodbye to someone you love, knowing you’ll be back in two years, is completely unlike saying goodbye to someone whom you don’t know if you’ll ever see again (partially because you know they don’t have the means to leave). I’ve said a lot of goodbyes in the past two years, and I thought I’d progressed from the days when I was always the first to c...

You know, I used to really hate the rain. It meant getting soaking wet at cross-country practice. It meant a yucky walk to school in the mud. It meant needing to carry an umbrella amongst so many other things. When I woke up to rain, it would automatically put me in a bad mood. But my mind has completely turned around regarding rain. I remember my first month in Bondo Village—there was a full week when it didn’t stop raining. Cooking outside was a challenge, and I was struggling for entertainment. I was so bored and miserable. I spent a whole day doodling in a sketchbook with literally nothing else to do. I specifically remember this one time when I was talking to my neighbor and asked her if she liked rain or sunshine to which she replied rain. I couldn’t believe it. I told her I preferred sunshine, ‘like a little sunshine child’ I thought. Whenever it was sunny, I practically sprawled out on my porch, soaking up the Vit D and enjoying the warmth on my skin (it ...