planting rye.

“Anyway, I keep picturing all these little kids playing some game in this big field of rye and all. Thousands of little kids, and nobody's around - nobody big, I mean - except me. And I'm standing on the edge of some crazy cliff. What I have to do, I have to catch everybody if they start to go over the cliff - I mean if they're running and they don't look where they're going I have to come out from somewhere and catch them. That's all I'd do all day. I'd just be the catcher in the rye and all. I know it's crazy, but that's the only thing I'd really like to be.” 
-Holden Caulfield, The Catcher in the Rye (J.D. Salinger)

Holden Caulfield may be an angsty teenager with the mouth of a sailor, but behind that entirely relateable and rather endearing facade of youthful apathy and vehemence, he's got this dream, this crazy dream. Goodness, I love that about Holden. I love it. 

I wish more people would just own up to wanting to be the freaking catcher in the rye. Admit that they've got some crazy dream, but heck. They want to do it anyways. I wish they'd do it. 

Anyways, the first month of the last year of my undergrad is just about over, so it's about time I figure out what it is I'd really like to be. Some people tell me to be the Catcher in the Rye, and others figuratively pat me on the head and say, "Darling, there are no little kids to catch. Look, there isn't even a field of rye."

Darling, please. I'm good at planting rye.

back.

I kind of dropped off the face of the blogosphere for a while.

But no worries, I made it back to the good ol' USA on the morning of August 9th. 

...that moment when I finally stepped off the airplane onto the walkway, and all of a sudden it was real and I wasn't in Africa anymore. I put a little makeup on for the first time in a long time in the JFK airport bathroom by the baggage claim and wore jeans (jeans, real skinny jeans!), and I waltzed out of that airport and into New York City and ate a whole NY bagel with cream cheese (not low fat, the regular cream cheese please, sir, and thank you). I checked into a hostel with the cleanest, whitest sheets and took a shower with hot water, no bugs, and an unclogged drain. You're probably wondering why I'm talking about all these inane things, and I guess the truth is that I don't know why either.

People always ask me to tell them about Africa, and I never have the words.

I don't know what to say, so I say stupid, easy things. The things that people expect to hear. I mean, everybody wants to hear about how I went days without showering, right? That's gross and exciting.

And kind of completely irrelevant. Or I feel like it should be.

I've been looking at the white space that used to exist where this sentence is for a while now, and I realized it's because I don't know what to say next. I feel like I should talk about what was relevant from my experience.  Africa seems to be a continent of superlatives, and I suppose so was my experience from the way I talk about it. Like Dickens put it,

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to heaven, we were all going direct the other way--in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.

I had a lot of time in Africa to grow. Faith. Change. Risk. Faith. Patience. Love. Faith. Fear. Possibility. Frustration. Faith. Creativity and Growth and Fear and Vulnerability and Faith. I saw it everywhere and I read it everywhere and I talked it everywhere. I tried (am trying) to live it too. 

I changed, but I changed the way I hope I would change regardless of where I get to go in the world. Maybe I just changed with time. Maybe Africa catalyzed that change and faith and me. Maybe it didn't. Regardless, it's a place that holds a thousand wonderful memories and three months of breaths and heartbeats.

Africa didn't change my life in the sense that I wouldn't be the person I am today if I hadn't gone. I am. I made a conscious decision to be who I was in Africa and I still make those choices today. But experiences don't need to turn your life 180 degrees to be worth it. They don't have to figuratively send you veering off a cliff, or mandate that you do a u-turn in the middle of the highway, or even suggest a turn onto that one forgotten road that nobody uses anymore. Sometimes, they can just be changing. And so you keep on driving on the same road you always planned to drive, and it just feels righter than ever, and maybe you even grow a few inches in the driver's seat. Not life-changing or anything. Just changing. It's good. 

Somehow all of this feels internalized and solid in the depths of my chest.

But I don't have anything left to vocalize. I don't know what to say. So I look at you, and I say

Why yes, hot showers with water pressure are miraculous. It's great having cheese as its own food group again. I guess I don't wear a lot of makeup anymore. Khaki capris can be cute, right? Right? A little bit? No? Fine. 

Zambezi Swimming Team

The second full day we were in Livingstone, we went white water rafting on the Zambezi River. This could be the story of how I almost drowned. Or the story of how I swam with crocodiles unaware. Or of how what I considered to be my unwavering courage pretty much failed me in the face of towering waves. This post is kind of a rambling tale of all the above.

Fair warning: this post has so many pictures.

Anyways. So we got a rafting team together that consisted of the four of us BYU students (Adam, Renee, Whitney, and myself), Hannah (a girl from the states who had just graduated from Stanford), and Neil and Sarah (a funny dude from Ireland and his girlfriend). We had all met each other at Jolly Boys, and we were all feeling pretty gung ho about the whole upcoming experience. We'd met this guy from South Africa who was staying in our dorm and who had done the rapids the day prior. He told us to do the hardest rapids when they gave us a choice if we wanted to have fun. I thought "no duh."

So there we were. Sitting in the white water rafting orientation, feeling super brave and hardcore and ready  to take on the world. Little did I know that the Zambezi was about to own us.

Team Malvin ftw!
So happy and naive.
From left to right: Neil, Sarah, Renee, Malvin, Whitney, me, Hannah, and Adam.

We started off a little before Rapid 7. The water was still too high to start at Rapid 1 (which is basically at the foot of Victoria Falls). So we got to Rapid 7, and it was a little bumpy, but we made it through that first rapid just fine. In fact, I thought, "If this is all there is to it, this might even get a little boring."

Look, mom! Easy peasy.

Then we got to Rapid 8, known as "The Midnight Diner."

Malvin said, "You've got three options here: A (which is the easiest--Class I), B (which is medium difficulty--Class III), and C (which is right through the middle, and the most intense--Class V, with a bunch of Class IV rapids following it).

We all said "C" because we are all young, foolhardy adults and saying anything but C would be ridiculous and embarrassing. We started paddling hard and I began to feel a little nervous.

This is what happened (because pictures are worth a thousand words, right?):

Why does this upcoming rapid look so different than the last rapid?
And what does this mean for my future happiness and well-being?

Is this really--this is really happening. Freaking freakity freak.
Paddle, paddle, must keep paddling. Must. Keep. Paddling.

As a point of reference, our raft is 16 feet long.
Was I scared? There are no words.

Maybe we'll make it. Maybe.

That moment where the god of the sea starts laughing at you.

Is this how it really ends?
I love you all.  I'm sorry. 

This was pretty much at the end of the rapids.
I can breathe again! I survived! I'm alive! I'M ALIIIIIIIIVE!!!!
Malvin climbed on top of the raft and flipped it after we were out of the rapids. 

So yes. We flipped on the second rapid. As soon as I saw that huge wave headed for us, I was so scared that I gripped the rope with all the ferocity (but none of the nobility) of a protective mother and I never let go. But it was 100% exhausting trying to hold onto the raft while huge waves crash on top of you for what seems like endless amounts of time and the current is trying to sweep you away and whipping you this way and that and you're gasping for air whenever your head pops out of the water which doesn't seem nearly often enough to survive. The current was so strong and crazy that you couldn't really swim. You were just at their mercy. And the waves. They kept coming, and coming, and coming...and coming...and coming...and so on and so forth.

Whitney, Adam, and Neil got entirely swept away and made it through most of the rapids with just the assistance of their life jackets, bless their hearts. The kayakers went after them, but got to them when the rapids were pretty much done. But all three of them held onto the kayaks and bobbed in the water until we got the raft to them.

The next rapid was a Class VI or VII (pretty much not doable)so all the rafts skipped it. We walked alongside it on the rocks, and my legs were still shaking from the last rapid. I had been honest to goodness scared out of my mind when I was in the water trying to breathe and not get ripped away from the raft. I thought, "I only have to survive 16 more rapids. Holy crap, what have I gotten myself into?" I also distinctly remember thinking that white water rafting was 100x scarier than bungee jumping.

We made it through the next rapid just fine, and then we got to "The Three Angry Sisters" that was followed up by "The Mother."

We flipped again on the first "Angry Sister." There weren't any cameras at the first "Angry Sister." But I got thrown off (and swept away) far enough so that I couldn't make it back to the raft. A kayak got to me so that I could hold on to something to help with keeping my head above water, but all the rafts got swept on without me. It's exhausting being in the rapids even (maybe especially) when you're holding on to something because the water is constantly trying to take you away. My abs and arms were getting super tired, so he took us to a little pocket of water where it was calmer and I could catch my breath.

The kayaker was going to try to paddle across the river where I could get on land and then walk past the other two "Angry Sisters" and the "Mother" and then get back on a raft on the other side of the rapids. He would paddle and I would try to swim and kick. We kept trying, but the current was too strong and we kept getting pushed back.

The kayaker looked at me and said "We can't make it to the other side, and the rafts won't be able to come back here. It's impossible. We're going to have to go to them through the rapids." And I said, "I can't hold on for that long. I can't. I'm too tired already." He said, "You've got to. Whatever you do, don't let go of the kayak." And he started paddling. I thought, "Crap." And I had a pity party for the briefest of moments before we were in the rapids and I didn't think about anything except for holding on to the metal handle on the front of the kayak and breathing whenever my head broke the water. We made it through the other two angry sisters and the Mother. But of course I made it, and now I'm awfully ashamed of saying "I can't" to the kayaker because as a general rule, I try to never say, "I can't" because usually, you can.

Here are a couple pictures of the Angry Sisters and the Mother. There are fewer people because Hannah had gotten picked up by another raft after she had fallen out and I was obviously not there because I was being best buddies with the kayaker. Now, I obviously did not go through the heart of these rapids. I was so disoriented while we were going through the rapids that I have no idea where in the river we were, but I'm assuming that the kayaker took a less crazy pathway.

They be abucklin' down!

Yet another wave. 

Reunited at last post "The Three Angry Sisters" and "The Mother"! Huzzah!

The second time I flipped was scarier than the first. Mostly because I was being so dramatic 
so extremely tired (which was kind of embarrassing because I like to consider myself somewhat fit) and I didn't know if I could make it back to the raft.

We also kind of did a half flip, where we all slid to one side and two people fell out. But we were able to pull them back in right away and did a pretty quick recover, at least compared to our other two mishaps.

Post wave. Pulling Neil and Hannah  back into the boat.

We were the only raft that flipped (and we flipped TWICE), so all the river guides started calling us the Zambezi Swimming Team. Hardy har har. We are slightly suspicious of Malvin, our guide, and that he may or may not have flipped us on purpose for entertainment's sake (and to make a cooler, more exciting group video). Everybody on our boat was a relatively fit young adult. Riddle me this: how could our paddling have sucked that much more than the boat full of grandpas, or the boat that had a couple kids in it, or the boat that had all those middle-aged, huffing women? Gosh, that's just embarrassing. Or maybe we're using Malvin as our scapegoat, because we don't want to admit that we were outdone by little kids and older folk.

So I just went back and reread what I wrote, and goodness,  it sounds like white water rafting was a horrible experience. It wasn't. It was also super fun. Was I scared out of my mind? Yes. Did that somehow (incredibly) also make it somewhat more fun? Of course (and especially more so in hindsight). And holy cow. The adrenaline every time we approached a rapid was ca-razy. One of Adam's friends is a river guide, and he told us that the Zambezi is on a lot of white water rafters' bucket lists. So I'm pretty proud about having done it. White water rafting ftw!

Also, here are a couple more pictures of us where we might actually look like we're having fun.

Oh, another funny story: So after I'd gotten into the boat after the second time that we'd flipped, we were paddling along the river. And Malvin said, "Look, there's a crocodile!"

I started laughing, because hey, I laugh easily in high-stress situations, and I thought he was trying to make a joke (I also always laugh at people's jokes, funny and non-funny).

He said, "No, really! Do you see it?"

And there was this huge problem and the problem was that I did see it.

It was just chilling on the bank of the river, as chill as a crocodile can be.

I thought, I just spent twenty minutes in a river with crocodiles in it?!?!?

Malvin thought it was funny. "Ha ha, but don't you worry. They are vegetarian crocodiles."

And I thought, "Hardy har har, you fool. Do you not know that death by crocodile is legitimately a fear of mine?"

So yup. That happened.

Needless to say, when we got to one of the smaller rapids and Malvin invited us to swim it (and people did, indeed, swim it), I declined. Noooooo thank you.

Victoria Falls: Round 2

Last year, I wanted to go to Victoria Falls because I was worried that I'd never get the chance to see it again. A couple weeks ago, I just saw it for the second time. Even so, it was an entirely different experience. Last year, it had been the end of rainy season, so everything in Livingstone had been green (more or less), and the water thundering off the falls had been overwhelmingly powerful. It was difficult to even see the falls, and I got soaked from the mist just from walking on the trails.

Dry season seems to have hit Zambia even harder than it hit Malawi, and everything was brown brown brown. The water going off the falls was still powerful, but the mist was so diminished that it was possible to see the falls all the way down the gorge. It was beautiful in an entirely different way. We hit the Falls up the first full day that we were in Livingstone. 

We started the day off by going to Victoria Fall Bridge, where we stepped into Zimbabwe, watched people bungee jump, and took tons of pictures of Adam taking that step off the platform to both bungee and do the swing (brave man!). I decided not to do it again, since I'd barely done it the year prior. I definitely empathized with all the nervous bungee jumpers though!

Bungee jumper getting pulled up.

Adam, post bungee jump. Almost to the platform.

Adam on the swing. 

After Adam had bungee jumped and we'd congratulated him and all that jazz, we walked from the Victoria Falls Bridge to the Victoria Falls National Heritage Site. We paid all our fees and saw the falls! It was lovely and we all had a great time taking photos (we decided to have this photo competition), even though I over (and under) exposed way too many of my photos because I forgot to look at the light meter. In some ways, shooting pictures with a DSLR is the most frustrating thing because your pictures have so much potential to be so good but often turn out so awful, mostly due to incompetence. Here's a bunch of pictures I took anyways!

The group of us at Victoria Falls!
Adam, Renee, Whitney, and me!

The beautiful Whitney Anderson.

Vic Falls.

The top of the Falls.
We just chilled out here for a while, with our feet in the water.

Adam washing his face in pure Zambezi.

Renee and I at the top of the falls.

Whitney and I exploring on the rocks that had become exposed at the top of the falls due to falling water levels.

A fisherman. This man had no fear. He walked right up to the edge of the falls. Crazy, I'm telling you, crazy.

So beautiful. 

tree roots and a mini-falls.

double rainbow.

tree in the midst of the mist.

the falls, once again.

While we were just relaxing at the top of the Falls, Renee, Whitney, and I were suddenly surrounded by tons of children on a school trip. We decided to get out of the way so that the kids could have more space and better enjoy Victoria Falls. But the teacher tapped us on the shoulder and asked if we would please be in a photo with them.  We were slightly flattered and said, "Of course," in so many words. Then she said "Quick, children, gather around the tourists!"

We wholeheartedly adopted our role as "the tourists" for the picture and smiled cheesily for the camera while the kids crowded around us and oohed and aahed over our hair. It was a funny moment. Kind of a reverse of the whole tourist trying to take pictures of "the natives."

We went back to Jolly Boys for a bit after Victoria Falls, and then got dinner at Olga's! Olga's is this entire non-profit Italian restaurant that I had eaten at last year while I was in Zambia. I was so excited to eat there again, and of course, I got the lasagna.

Later that night, we chilled in our dorm at Jolly Boys and met our dorm mates. One of them was this super cool guy from South Africa. Apparently, his family has a farming business, but before he inherits the business, his dad told him to go and see the world. So he's worked as a safari guide at a private game reserve (he showed us some of his videos. so sick), on a potato farm in Texas, and now he's a fishing guard at an island in the Seychelles. We also met this super funny guy from Ireland named Neil who now lives in Germany, and his girlfriend, Sarah. We actually went white water rafting with Neil and Sarah the next day. But that's for the next post!

Lilongwe

This is my last night in Malawi! I be aflyin' home on the morrow.

Well, this is going to be a hastily written post, as I've got to enter in tons of data tonight. Ew. But seeing as how I'm in Lilongwe (and have been here on many a weekend), I figured I should at least write a little blurb on it. Lilongwe is the capital of Malawi. To be honest, it wasn't my favorite the first time I was here. But it kind of grows on you after a while, you know? And now I'm going to miss it.

Lilongwe has three different markets. We probably spent the most time at the corner market, which is where they sell all the neat curios. I was royally ripped off on everything I bought in that market the first time I was there, but now that I can barter (and I drive a hard bargain now), the market is tons of fun. The vendors are funny people, and it's so cool to hear their stories and joke around with them. The only time it sucks is when they're begging you to buy something, but you really don't need anything and don't have the money to buy anything.I have bought a plethora of bracelets and postcards for that very reason as they're both pretty cheap. 

Lilongwe has this really nice part of town--it's got a nice shopping complex, different restaurants, and nice hotels. But in just a fifteen minute walk, you get into the grittier side of Lilongwe--Old Town. It's full of street vendors, small shops, and people teeming all over the streets. There's a nice mosque out that direction, but we never went inside. Apparently, you have to come during visiting hours. We went to the free market and holy crap, it's got everything random in the world. Food, tire rims, magazine, ripped DVDs, clothes, fabric, you name it. I tried taking pictures, but people always want you to pay them if you take a picture, and I can't afford that. So I got a couple sneaky photos, but they don't really capture the life of that place too well. I bought some fabric and am getting pants made by a tailor in Old Town for a super good price--a little over $3. I probably got it for so cheap though because Kevin (our driver friend) talked to him for me. They're going to be the greatest. Anyways, Old Town is more fun ( than the nicer part of town) to visit during the day, but kind of dangerous at night, especially if you're a rich-looking azungu. 

We've always stayed at either Mabuya Backpackers or Korea Garden Lodge when we spend time here. Mabuya's atmosphere is a lot more fun, but Korea Garden Lodge is a little nicer. Mabuya has these delicious wraps made with chapati bread (so it's definitely not L&T, but whatever), but KGL has got bulgogi (definitely not half as good as my mom's, but it's the best beef I've had in Africa). You win some, you lose some. It's all good. I was here for a week while I was prepping stuff for the structured interviewing part of my project, and it was kind of nice. There's definitely more to do than at SAFI (which is out in the middle of nowhere, Africa). 

 As far as restaurants go, Papaya has good, cheap, kinda healthy food. Pizza Inn has more expensive food, but it's good. Good is relative. The first I ate at Pizza Inn (about 2 weeks post-America), I thought the pizza was awful. Now it's been three months, and I think the pizza is delicious. And if you want to splurge, oh baby. Go to India Palace. I'm not sure anymore if it's actually legit delicious Indian food, or if I just think so because any kind of spice is a party in your mouth here. Either way, I love it, and we're going there tonight to commemorate our last night here. I haven't eaten at any other restaurants here. Usually I buy bread and such at the grocery store, or I get a wrap from Mabuya (every time) or bulgogi at KGL.   

In keeping with my haste, here are a bunch of randomly assorted photos from Lilongwe (and a couple not from Lilongwe). 

The rasta artists at the curio corner market.

 I bought earrings and bracelets from these guys the first time I went to the market.
The reason they're so happy is because I paid them twice what I should have.

Part of the nice shopping center in the nice part of Lilongwe.

Spar is also part of the shopping center area of Lilongwe.
It's also where we usually got our groceries (along with Shoprite and People's Cash & Carry).

Basket stand at the free market.
This is part of the market that sells everything. It's past the mosque.

Fish! So much fish. 

Malawian who irons clothes for a living in the Free Market.
He told me marrying a Malawian would be a good thing for me and then offered to be my boyfriend.

Bridges by the street market (between the curio market and the free market)
They're homemade and kind of precarious. I was kind of nervous walking on it.

This is a Bau gameboard, a traditional Malawian game. Renee knows how to play really well. I don't.
I think we were actually using the board to play mancala. 

Driving in the back of the truck.
This is actually on the way to BFI trainings in Kasungu.
But we rode in the back of the truck to Lilongwe a couple times (about 2 hours).

Free market in Lilongwe.

Chickens for sale in the Free Market.

The mosque in Old Town.

The market in between the curio market and the free market. 

Once again, the market in between the curio market and the free market.

It'll be sad to leave Malawi (and Lilongwe), but I am so excited to see my friends and family again! And I'm excited (and kind of terrified) for this last year of college. It'll be an adventure in and of itself--I can feel it already. Welp, we're about to leave to eat our Last Supper, so I must go. Hasta luego!

Cliff Jump!

While we were on our two day kayaking trip in Nkhata Bay (northern Malawi), Khumbu showed us a place that we could cliff jump.

I said "No" right off the bat because I have this irrational fear that if I jump off a high object into water that I'll somehow forget how to swim. But after I watched Whitney jump (and proclaim its awesomeness), I started to feel embarrassed about being so afraid and I knew that I would regret not jumping. So I walked up to the edge, almost chickened out again, counted down Five, Four, Three, Two, One, and I jumped (and screamed).

I did it!

I didn't forget to swim, I didn't dash my head against any rocks, I didn't have any swimsuit malfunctions, and it was super fun.

It was the first time I'd ever done anything like that, and I was so proud of myself. Then I kayaked past the cliff the next day, and it looked so small compared to the monster cliff that I had envisioned jumping off of in my head. I thought "How was I afraid to jump off that tiny thing?"

Funny how that works.

#busslyfe

Four of us went to Zambia last week. John ended up opting out because he wasn't feeling well.

Kevin (the BFI driver, and now our friend) was a champ and offered to wake up super early to give us a ride to the bus station. We could have walked it (technically), but when we told Kevin that, he was kind of like "Ehhhhh not super safe--I'll take you." He got to Korea Garden Lodge at 4:30 in the morning to give us that lift. 

We boarded the bus at the station in Lilongwe at 4:45, and our bus took off shortly after 5:30. 

We stopped halfway there because the bus was smoking so much. After a period of waiting, everything cooled down and the smoke stopped, and we were back on our merry way (with my fingers crossed).

It got dark around 6:00, and I knew we weren't going to be able to catch the 7:00 bus to Livingstone. We pulled into Lusaka sometime between 8:00-9:00 (I think?). Fifteen solid hours of squeezing into the tiny seats, taking breaks to pee in the bush, or waiting for the bus to fix itself. It was hot and sweaty and slightly claustrophobic, but you know, all things considered, t'was marvelous. We all survived, and even better, none of us got blood clots or anything dramatic like that. 

We got off the bus to the clamour of countless taxi drivers vying for your attention.  I asked one for a lift to Kalulu Backpackers in Lusaka. He gave it to us for 30 ZMW. 

We got to Kalulu and thank god, there were four available beds, because I hadn't made reservations (I'd been banking on making the connection from Lusaka to Livingstone that night). Rookie mistake. The options are limited in Lusaka, and I was trying to think of what we could do if they were full. We could try Lusaka Backpackers...if they're full...welp, I remember sleeping in the bus terminal last year when we had to wait for a connection, oh. Ralph would kill me, so probably not an option. Perhaps a hotel. Gosh, that would be expensive.

The next morning, we woke up, and headed back to the bus terminal, where we endured another eight hot, miserable hours on a (slightly bigger, so much YES) bus. We happily pulled into Livingstone around 9:00, where we found out that Jolly Boys had given our beds away due to our late arrival. Thankfully, they had room at their other location, which is where we slept for the night. 

We had a lovely three days in Livingstone (I'll write about it more in the next post or two), before we headed back to Lilongwe. It was pretty much the same exact thing as the journey to Zambia. We did have to switch busses at Mchinji due to our bus breaking down, and we had a 2.5 hour delay at the border. So much waiting and sitting and more waiting, but I guess that's just how it goes. 

Four full days on busses for three days of fun in Zambia.

Worth it? For me, totally.