24 February 2011

If you're ever in South Africa.....

I'll write more later, but I just wanted to say that I'm having an absolutely wonderful time here in Chintsa, South Africa.  If you're ever here, definitely do some volunteering with Volunteer Africa 32 South.  The people are great, the volunteer work is fun, and it's just a wonderful overall experience. 

Peace,
Ben

11 February 2011

Commune-ity


Community.  Not community service.  Not community centers.  Not community spirit.  Just community.  I think I’ve come to the realization that, at least for me, community is at the heart of what makes me happy.  People always ask me what I enjoy doing, and I’m never sure how to answer.  Let me try and walk you through my dilemma.  Bear with me as I take you down many different thought paths, because I’m trying to really get to the core of this question.  I can definitely tell when I’m in a situation that I don’t like, and these situations do have some common themes: I usually dislike activities that involve waiting, sitting still, prolonged silence,  and physical exercise, to name a few (although the last one is kind of a joke).  And I can remember feelings of happiness:  My trip to Iceland with Gaul and the family, Februaries in St. John with my dad (and Gaul once), driving through Boston, music blaring as we headed to Fenway for a movie (with Gaul), and closing campfire the last year I went to summer camp.  Aside from the obvious conclusion that I really enjoy spending with Gaul, there is one thing all of these “happy times” have in common, and that is a sense of community.  I want to explain that saying community makes me happy is different from saying that I love being around people all the time, because I don’t.  In fact, in high school, I spent most of my nights and weekends either alone or with a few close friends.  By community, I mean the feeling that I belong somewhere.  It’s the reason kids form secret treehouse clubs, teenagers create cliques, and adults become members of country clubs – they are searching for community.  So I’ve solved it.  What I enjoy doing is any activity that gives me a sense of community….but that’s not really it.  There are times when I’ve been amongst friends, with the utmost feeling of community, but I still get bored eventually.

 To be honest, I get bored with most things pretty quickly (hardly a surprise for a kid with ADHD, I know, but still worth pointing out).  When it’s hot, I want cold.  When it’s cold, I want hot (kind of like the Katy Perry song).  On even the most wonderful vacations, I am usually ready to go home after about two weeks.  I’ve even started to get bored with mountaintop vistas and sunsets.  This boredom comes in handy with women: if I’m not bored with a girlfriend after a few months, I know she’s a keeper!  Gaul once told me he loves New England because it has seasons.  I stole that line from him and decided that the type of weather I like most is “seasons”.  So maybe change is what makes me happy.  I mean, who doesn’t love giving someone a five dollar bill and getting back change.  Plus, Obama brought some change to Washington, and I liked that. 

But too much change can be a bad thing, and I think it’d be wrong to say that change is the main thing I enjoy.   I mean, I’ve always preferred a long-term relationship to a quick hook-up, so I do enjoy some sort of constant in my life.  Plus, constants were always my favorite part of calculus (they’re so easy to derive)! 
Let’s go backwards for a second.  I think I was closest to answering the question “What do you like to do?” when I was talking about community.  I just need to tweak the definition of community a bit, and I think I know how to do it.  I went to see Hairspray at NSHS last Saturday (It was wonderful; congratulations to everyone involved, especially Max, Sophia, and Alissa), and it made me really nostalgic.  For a minute, I wanted to just hang out with all my friends in lower grades who are still in high school; you know, just insert myself back into NSHS life.  After a few awkward conversations with people, however, I realized why  this community wasn’t making me happy.  It’s because, as much as I still enjoy hanging out with my younger friends, our relationship is built on the past, not the future.  It’s great to reminisce about old times and fond memories, but it’s hard to put effort into a relationship that doesn’t have a future.  Like, with girls, I absolutely love the “wooing” period, where every interaction leaves me with the feeling that our relationship is moving forward.  I am a planner, and I set goals.  Progressing towards those goals makes me happy.  When I identify someone I want to be friends with, sometimes I have more fun trying to win their approval than I do actually being friends with them.  I know, I’m a sick person, but it’s who I am, so “take me baby, or leave me” (that’s from Rent in case you’re not a theater nerd .   So that’s my answer:  I like moving forward and achieving goals.  But when a friend wants to grab coffee or hang out for an afternoon and they ask me “What do you want to do?”, saying that I want to "move forward and achieve goals" is hardly an appropriate answer J

 -Ben

20 January 2011

Reflections (not the artsy Newton South publication)

I find myself with a few minutes to spare, so now seems as good a time as ever to do some reflecting.  I´m sitting in a hotel in San Salvador, which is a first for me this trip.  First hotel, first day in El Salvador, first hot (lukewarm) shower.   

Nicaragua was absolutely spectacular.  I don´t think I could´ve started off my travels in a better fashion.  I was going from living in an apartment in D.C. to moving from hostel to hostel every few nights.  That tranistion can be a bit tough, expecially because of the lack of privacy and time to yourself in hostels.  The wonderful thing about them is that there are always people around to socialize with, but the drawback is that you´re around people 24/7.  I dob´t think I could have done it without Gabe and Eric.  When I couldn´t find other people to hang with, we still always had the three of us.  It was also just great to have people there who knew me.  After the road trip this past summer, Eric, Gabe, and I definitely know each other´s moods, likes, and dislikes very well.  We can read when one of us needs something.  That came in handy in Nica, because without that, you have to be constantly looking out for yourself; it´s just a reality of backpacking.  Getting a break from that once in a while was really nice.  

Something I realized (and something I´m sure Katie will reply to by saying, ¨duh¨) is that backpacking is in some ways very different from normal life, and in some ways very similar.  Contrary to what I thought, there are definitely unofficial rules to backpacking; they just happen to be very different from the rules back home.  As we met people who had given up their jobs and were traveling for 3, 4, or even 15 months, I realized that they weren´t really traveling as we think of the word.  They were just living a mobile life.  Sure, some of the hygiene standards don´t apply to backpacking life (you can wear clothes for 3 days in a row without being judged, and you can wear shorts and flip-flops pretty much anywhere), but you still have to take care of yourself.  It´s okay to not do laundry and only drink soda and eat junk food when you´re traveling for a week or two, but when you´re backpackign for an extended period of time, you have to do laundry and eat healthy, just like you do at home.  Sure, healthy down here might mean gallo pinto and a pina licuado, but it´s still healthy.  

And you get into a routine too:  Check into the hostel, get settled, grab a Tona or Victoria (the national beers) and go meet some people, drink in the hostel until 7pm, go get dinner with some new friends, keep drinking at the hostel until it closes at 11pm, then go out the bars and party until the wee hours).  The good thing about backpacking, though, is that you get the minor variations to keep it interesting:  One day, you might fo surfing, the next climb a volcano, the next just read a book in a hammock.  One night you might play cards or celebrate somone´s birthday.  Plus, when you´re in such a beautiful place, a routine is more of a rhythm than it is boring.

As I mentioned before, I was surprised at how few Nicas spoke English.  What I was more surprised by, though, is how few backpackers spoke Spanish, even the ones that were traveling Central and South America for many months.  I found that I was usually one of the better Spanish speakers when we went out with other backpackers.  Everyone usually spoke their native language nad English pretty fluently, and some knew others, but very little Spanish.  (We are fortunate enough that English is the worldwide language of hostels).  It´s almost as if backpackers form their own little community within a community wherever they go.  There is very little interaction with the locals.  They go to gringo barsm hang out in gringo hostels, and do gringo (albeit off-the-beaten-path) activities.  I had a friend who spent some time in Nicaragua a few years ago.  He stayed with a host family for 3 weeks and did volunteer work.  He said his favorite part was becoming a part of the town´s culture and daily life.  Looking at the pictures from my trip to Nicaragua, he commented how different our experiences were.  Lookign at the pictures myself now, I don´t think I have more than 2 or 3 pictures with Nicaraguans in them.

Now I want to talk about the taxis in Nicaragua.  We couldn´t walk 50 feet without every passing taxi honking at us and yelling ¨taxi, taxi?¨.  Every taxi that was parked on the street also had a nearby driver yelling ¨taxi, taxi¨at us.  If we were in San Juan del Sur, they would start off by yelling ¨taxi, Rivas, Rivas¨(Rivas is the closest city to San Juan del Sur¨and when we would reply ¨No, gracias¨, the driver would then say ¨taxi, Managua, Managua, Granada, Leon, Ometepe¨, (or some variation on that theme), with the idea that if they just said the right city, we would want to take their taxi.  Never did it occur to them that maybe it wasn´t the destination we didn´t want to go to, but that we really just didn´t want a taxi.  I thought it was pretty funny, but after a while the other people I was traveling with started to get pretty annoyed.

I love beign down here and having very little access to internet and cell phones.  It gives me a chance to live in the moment without being distracted by technology.  That being said, I really miss talking to my friends and family in the United States.  I have a few ¨go-to¨people who I always call when something funny happens or when I just need someone  to talk to.  It´s been hard not being able to just pick up the phone and talk to them.  

Sorry for the lack of transitions and for the multiple spelling errors.

10 January 2011

Flor de Cana

.  Here's a recap of life so far:  We arrived in Managua at 3:30am, and got to our hostel around 4:00am.  After a brief 3 hours of sleep, we were up bright and early to get the hell out of Managua.  But first, we needed to change some money and get a SIM card for my cell phone.  So we got directions to Metro Centro, walked in the wrong direction for 10 minutes, finally swallowed our pride and asked for directions, and then arrived there 15 minutes later.  The idea of tourists walking in Managua (or anywhere for that matter) seems to be foreign to the cab drivers.  Every time they pass us, they will slow down and honk, urging us to get in, then drive away laughing when we keep saying "estamos bien".  After fumbling through the cell phone store, I finlly ended up with 200 cordobas (10 dollars) worth of minutes.  That gets me about half and hour of international talk time.  (Although I got a text message in Spanish from Claro, the cell phone company, that said my balance was quadrupled, but I couldn't fully understand it.  Hope it's true!).  Anyway, we were having some trouble finding the bus station to take a bus to Laguna de Apoyo, but  as we were talking futilly around a huge traffic circle, a bus with a dude leaning out the door screamed "Masya, Granada, Masaya, Granada, Granada," which was the very bus we needed to take.  It was as if it was sent from heaven to take us out of the god-forsaken city of Managua.  We promptly hopped on.  Life was good.

After getting of at the road to Laguna de Apoyo, we again refused a taxi, opting to walk the 6km instead.  Every 5 minutes for the first 2kms, the same taxi kept pulling up to us and asking us if we were sure we didn't want a ride.  At that point, our pride took over.  We made a pact that we wouldn't take a taxi that day, even if we were close to fainting on the road.  The hostel that night, The Monkey Hut, was glorious.  Spectacular views over a pristine lake, and beer on the honor system.  We took a dip in the water, which was the perfect temperature, and then fooled around on some kayaks.  We ended the day with some comida deliciosa, then played gin rummy by ourselves from 7-11pm.  The next day, we did some 'sploring.  We went to Parque Nacional Volcan Masaya, where we toured a bat cave and hiked to a wonderful mirador.  We were also able to pee into the crater of an active volcano, something that highlighted the lack of concern about negligence lawsutis in this country.  After playing some cards with Patrick and Kerry (American) and two Dutch women (my favorite country) we headed in for the night, and spent a while laughing with the Dutch women about how our dorm beds looked like prison cells (they thought it was funnier than we did, but we were just happy to be laughing with some new friends).  The next morning, we bought some eggs, onion, and a bag of rice for 28 cordobas ($1.25).  After that, we were off to La Libertad Hostal in Granda (we had planned to stay in another hostel, but people's tales of $5 dorm beds and a lively party scene were too enticing.  And, indeed, La Libertad has so far lived up to our expectations.

We spent all of yesterday biking around this peninsula called Asese, which turned into a pretty epic journey.  About 3 minutes after we left the bike rental place, one of the pedals just fell off one of the bikes.  We could deal with the broken gears and brakes on the other two bikes, but a bike with one pedal was a challenge.  Every three pedals, I had to kick the pedal shaft back towards the bike, so it would stay on.  We were following directions from the Lonely Planet guidebook to a beach on the peninsula.  As promised, the road quickly deteriorated, but we couldn't for the life of us find any beach.  We spent 15 minutes stumbling through backyards and running into dead=ends, before someone pointed us to "el restaurante".  Being our only landmark, that became our destination.  We then crossed many people's private property, took every wrong turn, and passed not a foot away from a dude shaving in his living room before stumbiing into "el restaurante".  We felt like true jungle warriors......until we saw all the tour boats filled with tourists drinking rum and blasting Bob Marley.  This restaurant clearly existed to feed them.  But it was still a delicious meal, consisting of fish and chicken, both freshly killed.  The waiter turned out to be a really chill dude who had the screw we needed and fixed our bike.  We headed back to the hostel to experience a good Friday night in the hostel. 

So that's a summary of what has happened.  Here are some cool things:

We met this Australian dude Adam, who we got really drunk with at the hostel last night.  He said that when he was younger he used to make poor decisions, but it is very clear that although he thinks he has outgrown it, he will forever be a poor decision-maker.  He ended up getting punched on New Year's Eve while trying to buy cocaine in San Juan del Sur.  He also restored our faith that is safe to buy weed in hostels (but we won't anyway, so don't worry).

We did some cool Shabbat prayer with some Israelis. 

We have already changed our plans many times, and will do so many more.  I think we might add Leon (in the North) to our trip.  

Nobody in Nicaragua (and I mean nobody) speaks English.  Our guide in a National Park didn't even speak a word of English.  On the plus side, I have been pleasantly surprised with my own Spanish skills.  It's been more htna enough to get by.

We just had the craziest night in a treehouse last night.  Chad, the owner, kept pouring everyone free shots and dancing (read grinding) on Eric. Twas funny.  I will upload pictures soon.
Love and happiness,
Ben

Sent while drinking Flor de Cana.
Please excuse mistakes.

07 January 2011

I'm alive

Not dead yet.

Eric and Gabe are okay too.  Chinese herbs taste nasty.  I'll take Giardia over them any day.

Peace,
Ben

01 January 2011

Pack(ag)ing

So the time has almost come when I get to actually do some traveling (it will be here this Tuesday at 7:00pm to be exact).  Although I am obviously excited to be embarking on a journey that has been many months in the making, but I was a bit unprepared for the sadness I feel to be leaving Newton.  I don’t feel any attachment to the city per se, but I certainly feel connected to the people (my friends and family) and all the memories I have here.  Not that I am leaving for good, but it’s still a big step for me.  I want to give a special shout-out to Gaul, my “brother-lover-best friend” who I will miss dearly while I am away.  He has always been my go-to guy when I need a cheering up, so I’m a bit nervous to be without that support for a while.  O well, I’ll make do.  I always have! J
Sadness aside, I am in full-on packing mode from now until Tuesday.  It’s a tedious process to cram a month’s worth of my life into a backpack, however big the backpack may be (which is one of the benefits of making, and then cancelling, plans to hike the Appalachian Trail).  When I was in Iceland, looking at our guide’s pack, I realized why I had so much more stuff than him:  It wasn’t the clothes; as my friends will tell you with a cringe, I have no problem wearing the same shirt and pants for many days on end.  Instead, it was all the stuff that I am so used to having in this wonderful country of ours that people from most other nations do fine without: The contact solution, contact case, glasses, floss, sets of silverware, bug spray, sun screen, and iPod (and all its accessories).  Not that all of those things are useless, but everything we have seems to be bigger and covered in more packaging.  Just an observation.  Don’t know where I was going with this, but hopefully I’ve contributed to the general knowledge pool of the world.
I’m off to go pack.  Look for updates while I travel (and hopefully some pictures too). 
Cheers,
Ben

03 December 2010

THE Salvador

Okay, so it is about time I revealed some more of my travel plans.  After landing in the bustling metropolis of Managua at 1:09am (if we get lucky and somehow make our connection in Florida), we will be whisked away by limousine (cheap airport shuttle) to our fancy chalet ($8/night hostel).  But by 10am the next morning, we will be headed to the idyllic Laguna de Apoyo.  After that, it is off to Granada, Isla de Ometepe, and then to San Juan del Sur to finish off our Nicaraguan getaway. 
After I say goodbye to Gabe and Eric, I will head overland to San Salvador, where I will be meeting my dad for another 2 weeks of traveling.  “Why El Salvador?” is a question I often get asked.  People always say Nicaragua is definitely a good choice, but few have offered much enthusiasm about El Salvador; in fact, some people have told me they’ve heard it was really unsafe (partly true, but in reality, it’s no more dangerous than any international city, like Baghdad or Kabul).  Well, anyway, to answer the question of “Why El Salvador,” I stare dumbly at the person and reply “Well, duh.  It’s the Salvador.”  I’ve been to many a fake Salvador, but this is the Salvador.  Also, we have a family friend, Oliver Komar, who lives in San Salvador.  (Although, if you count Gaul as my brother, you could say Oliver is family). 
I’ll keep this post short.  As promised, I have told you more of my plans.  (And in case you were wondering, that line about Baghdad and Kabul was a joke).

 Happy Hanukah (or Chanukah or Chanukkah or Chanuka or however you spell it),
Ben