tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-89124891675024286152024-03-12T17:15:00.534-07:00Annie's TravelsAnniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02427933893021813957noreply@blogger.comBlogger79125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8912489167502428615.post-62335046055231350392013-06-26T20:55:00.000-07:002013-06-26T20:55:50.037-07:00My Biggest Regret in CollegeNo, this blog post has nothing to do with the Bike America trip we are currently on. I actually don't know why I started even thinking of this. Maybe it was because today I interviewed Kiersten, and she said some of the most inspiring things about standing up for what you believe in and making things happen no matter what the cost. And that got me thinking of my one big college regret. Yup, I only really have one. I don't regret any of my decisions for those 4 years, I don't regret guys I dated, tests I may have forgotten to study for, I don't even regret the mistakes I made - because they either turned out to be something pretty cool or I learned from them and became the person I am today. I absolutely loved my college experience at the University of Tennessee.<br />
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But the one thing I do regret, which is something I apparently was so passionate about if it still haunts me more than 2 years after I have graduated - is not doing more to unify the campus. It's no huge secret that there's a bit of an issue on campus with unifying students of different races. It's apparent to anyone who takes the time to really notice. Even walking into our cafeteria and trying to count the number of times you see students of different ethnic backgrounds and races sitting together at one table, you will find yourself searching for a good while. It just doesn't happen very often.<br />
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And no - (except for very extreme cases) I truly deep down do not believe that this happens out of racism or hatred... but just simply out of the lack of opportunity to do activities to get to know and make friends with someone of another race. And this is where my regret comes in - for not taking the organization I was deeply involved with, the organization I loved and have the best memories from, not trying with everything I have to unify the Greek Community.<br />
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There are the two organizations called IFC and Panhellenic (all sororities and fraternities on campus) and then there is NPHC (historically African American, hispanic, diverse fraternities and sororities). They are both wonderful, successful organizations on our campus that create friendships and leadership skills. However, they are completely separate entities. There were separate recruitment processes, separate events throughout the year, and even two separate homecomings - which baffled me because isn't the whole idea of homecoming to bring the entire campus together?<br />
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Now I understand how this might have come to happen - Greek chapters are very proud of their own traditions and events and of course NPHC, IFC, nor Panhellenic should have to stop doing their own traditions and events that makes them the chapter they are. But why not create a few new traditions that unify and include everyone? I'm not just talking about a once a year Greek Week cook-out. How can you possibly form meaningful friendships by plopping everyone together one day a year. Of course friends are going to sit with friends - and no diversifying will come from it. Why not sit down and think of an event or competition that will pair IFC and Pan with NPHC so we can all have the opportunity to get to know one another. Because that's all it takes to bring us all together - to just simply form friendships. I know this works, because that is exactly what happened in my own chapter.<br />
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When my chapter of Zeta Tau Alpha and the NPHC Fraternity Alpha Phi Alpha decided to pair up together for a competition called Carnicus, it became one of the greatest memories of my entire 4 years of college. It was the very first time a sorority and a historically African American fraternity had paired together for this competition. The VERY first time. And we had a blast. I cannot tell you the number of times I was laughing out loud at practices, the moments we all shared rehearsing night after night, and the friendships we formed through this one little competition. No we didn't win, but in the bigger picture - we won something no one else had ever sought after before - we won unity. My chapter and Alpha Phi Alpha stepped outside of the norms and did something different. And I have never been more proud to be a part of my chapter than in that moment.<br />
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From then on, we would meet up with those guys and all sit down to have lunch together in the cafeteria. We would go to support them at their step show competitions. They would support us at our philanthropy events. I will never forget hearing one transfer student comment on our friendships with the A Phi A guys and say, "Wow, this kind of thing doesn't happen on other southern campuses." It was a wonderful thing and we had so much hope this would create a spark and a realization that this kind of thing needed to happen within the entire community! The entire campus!! And heck who knew from there?! The entire region!<br />
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But it fizzled out. For one reason or another - the bumps and difficulties along the way became too much to continue to fight for what was right and important. At one point talk of a new yearly dance competition was in the works pairing teams of IFC/Panhellenic with NPHC. But because of traditionalist alumni (on both sides) this never became an actuality.<br />
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So yes, I do regret not focusing all my time and energy on this in college. I do regret not giving everything I had to help pave the way to something absolutely wonderful. Because the Greek Community on our campus were and are leaders, and if we can all show we are united - the trickle down of that message would be immense. It pains me that my time has long passed, and I don't know what I can possibly do now to help this happen. But all I can hope is that the ones in college right now, the ones who have the opportunity to bring unity to the campus - really go after it. Really make a difference.<br />
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<br />Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02427933893021813957noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8912489167502428615.post-77891853711595647632013-06-24T16:57:00.002-07:002013-06-24T17:03:47.829-07:00Bike America - Utah<br />
As we crossed the border over into Utah, leaving Nevada .... I started seeing little glimpses of life. Little chipmunks began to daringly dart in front of our camper, praire dogs would poke their heads in and out of holes like a whack-a-mole game, and every now and then an antelope would pop up out of nowhere. At one point we spotted a lonely antelope off in the distance, so we pulled over to get a closer look. I grabbed my camera and started walking slowly towards it, expecting it to dart away at any second. But this antelope must have been just as curious about me as I was it, because it ended up letting me get only 20 feet from it, and even posed on a dirt mound for a picture! After that, it became my favorite animal ever! I like to think we bonded over the fact of being on a new adventure all alone in the middle of nowhere, our family miles and miles away, ready to see this new land. Yup we definitely bonded ... except for when I ate it.<br />
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Well - to be fair, I didn't eat this particular antelope. Instead I ate the jerky meat of one that was more than likely processed a good while ago. How this happened was while driving alongside a small highway in Utah, we saw a sign that read:<br />
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BUFFALO JERKY </div>
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ANTELOPE JERKY</div>
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BISON MEAT</div>
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RATTLESNAKE </div>
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So obviously, we pulled off. Gotta have protein on a trip like this! Kiersten opted for the Buffalo jerky, while I picked the 2 animals we had seen thus far on this trip ... Antelope and Rattlesnake. We went back to the campsite and spread out all our new found meats to experiment. The buffalo jerky was delicious. It was sweat and chewy and flavorful, we were big fans of it! The antelope meat on the other hand, was very dry and kind of spicy. It was hard to chew and made my mouth feel so dry. I think that was my pay back for eating the kin to my antelope friend. But then came the rattlesnake. UUHHHHHH hold on I have to let this chill go through my body before I can drag this up from my memory again....<br />
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The rattlesnake was in a can. I could hardly wait to open it so I could feel like a wilderness woman chomping down a dangerous desert creature! But when the can cracked open, an aroma of a mix of tuna fish and formaldehyde filled our nose. We looked down at the can and just saw brown liquid. Ok maybe it wasn't going to be so bad. So Kiersten took a fork and fished out our first bite. She felt a piece of meat and lifted it up, but as the meat broke past the brown water .... it kept going, and going, and going. She pulled out what looked like half the rattlesnake and let it flop on the paper plate. We looked closely at it, and could see remnants of the scales. Am I grossing you out yet? Don't worry we felt the same queasiness. But we had to try it! We had to! .... so we grabbed a squirmy little piece of meat, tilted our heads back, and swallowed it down.<br />
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My face grimaced at the thought of what had just happened, but then surprisingly the grimace turned into a shocked expression. I suddenly felt like Simba in the Lion King as the first thought in my head was, "slimy, yet satisfying." It tasted like a piece of tuna fish, it wasn't terrible at all! That being said, once we started having to pick the spine bones of the meat (which were perfectly in tact) we had to stop eating and wash it down with ice cream instead.<br />
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After our stomaches settled from that experience, we decided to do a little canyon exploring. First up was a place called Bryce Canyon. I cannot tell you how excited I was to see the red rocks, it was to a point I looked down and my hands were physically shaking from excitement. I felt like I was 8 years old again and going up to get an autograph from the first REAL LIFE movie stars I had ever seen ... Chip and Dale at Disney World. It was so exciting to me, because I had only seen red rock formations in movies and postcards. It was like a fantasy land to me, mars in America. And Utah did not disappoint.<br />
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Fast forward a few hours to accidentally losing Kiersten and her mom, and finding myself wandering on a path alone through towering red rock formations. That was the moment I found myself on the most incredible hike I think I will ever go on. The path started out heading down a cliff and taking a sharp turn only to be faced with a steep incline. The only way down was a back and forth descending path down into a red rock cavern.<br />
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Once you scaled down the path, you found yourself in what looked like a little cave that tinted every one that walked through red. And when you made it through the red cave, you found yourself starring up at a giant tree, growing right in between the rocks!<br />
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Then walking on - there were many rocks shaped like towers, alien heads, holes in the wall - you name it, I found it! It was so entertaining! But the most breathtaking part was looking straight up to the sky, and seeing such a stark difference between the deep blue color of the sky and the bright orange rocks.<br />
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The other beautiful site we saw at Bryce Canyon was the very first look out point we went to. It was called "Inspiration Point". The feeling I felt as I began walking closer and closer to the edge of the canyon, looking out at this huge canyon dyed red and vast as I could see .... the only one word I could describe this feeling ... would be BUTTERFLIES.<br />
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Yes butterflies because I was in awe by the beauty, but also butterflies because you cannot help but image how long it would take you to hit the bottom if you slipped on a lose rock and cascaded down. Not to mention we were venturing to the places were there were no guard rails and nothing stoping you from the unfortunate fate below. That being said - YES it was definitely my choice to go up as close to the edge of the canyon as I could get. I've learned to love the feeling of butterflies, because even though they come from nerves, or fears, or excitement ... they almost always end in a spectacular experience. I got butterflies before making the big move to New York, I got butterflies before jumping out of a plane to free fall back to Tampa, and I got butterflies looking out to Bryce Canyon... ALL of which I am so happy I did anyway. And that beautiful image of Bryce Canyon is now forever etched in my memory :) so embrace the butterflies I say!<br />
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The next town we made a pit stop at, was a place called Moab, Utah. As we drove through the town and saw all these little shops with signs that read "Whitewater Rafting Here", "Rock Climb Moab", "ATV Adventures", all backdropped by a breathtaking red mountain wall - we knew this was going to be a fun few days.<br />
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The next day we took off to Arches National Park, and Kiersten rode her bike around some of the most incredible rock formations I had ever seen. We walked up to some of the arches, which I am STILL baffled as to how they are made! But they were incredible and made me want to climb up them and slide down the other side!!!! .... which is sort of what happend the next day when we went rock climbing...<br />
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No, neither one of us had gone rock climbing on ACTUAL rocks before. Yes, the closest thing to this we had done was climbing on little indoor rock walls. But there was no color coordinated hand and foot holes for these red monsters. We had no idea what we were getting ourselves into, but once again the whole message of this trip is "do the impossible" and trying new things to enjoy the beauty of our country! Plus we would get to say we learned how to rock climb on the red rocks of Utah! So we headed out with our little rock climbing group complete with a guide who taught us all we needed to know. He explained the rock rating to us, anything using a rope is called a "5" and the difficulty level ranges from "5-0" to "5-16"<br />
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He started us all off on a 5-6 ... not very steep, easy to get up as long as you look for the right footholds. When we all got to the top of that we felt very confident! Up next was a little bit harder of a challenge, something called a "Chimney Climb". This basically meant that we had to "shimmy" up a crevasse in between two rocks, using our back and our feet pressed against either side of the rock walls. This was way tougher than it looked, but once you got a groove going it was fairly easy to get to the top. I now feel confident to volunteer if Santa ever needs a back up replacement.<br />
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But alas, we got to a big one - a 5-9 climb. Looking at this climb, it looked fairly vertical to me with smooth, shiny rocks. How the heck were we going to climb up this? I need my color coordinated foot holes!!!!!<br />
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I started the climb up and already was having problems even getting both feet of the ground. Everything was just too slick! And the only place to put your feet were tiny bumps in the rock or 1/2 inch pieces of rock sticking out. I kept slipping and slipping and slipping until FINALLY I got a good foot hold and climbed up a few feet. But then, I hit the dreaded area where NONE of us could make it past. There was just no where to put your feet, and as you stood there contemplating the next move, your fingers began to shake from gripping the rock above with all your might, and you could feel the sand on the bottom of your shoe start to slowly make you lose grip. After countless attempts, my legs gave out and I was lowered to the bottom.<br />
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UGH I felt so defeated!!! I HAD to do this climb! I had to make it to the top!!!! So after a little break I tried it again, this time after watching our guide climb the same area - and do a sideways walk move at the area we kept slipping. When I got back up to try the climb again, I copied what the guide had done, found myself talking to myself "Come on, Annie... COME ON!" and low and behold... MADE IT TO THE TOP!!!!! Ah I had never felt more accomplished as I was rewarded with a very cool view of the Colorado River. I felt such an adrenaline rush, I tried the final climb - a 5-10. At one point, you had to reach your leg so far out to the right, that you had to let go of all your gripping on the left and have faith you get a good hold. I actually jumped at this point and thankfully made it to the next ledge. Right after this I heard the guy next to us scream bloody murder as he tried something similar and fell 7 feet down. His belayer caught him just in time, but left enough free fall to give him a heart attack. Eek I'm glad my people were on top of their game!<br />
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At the end of the day we were tired, and a bit banged up, but so happy. We could not have picked a cooler place to learn how to rock climb. Not even 30 feet down, petroglyphs lined the same rock wall we were climbing. It was like we were climbing up a timeline of history.<br />
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As we left our Utah adventure, the Super-moon popped it's head out behind the mountains. A great way to end a fantastic, unplanned "pit stop".<br />
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<br />Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02427933893021813957noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8912489167502428615.post-62989125665286581162013-06-14T22:58:00.001-07:002013-06-23T19:39:48.632-07:00Bike America - Nevada<div>
Ahh the beautiful mountains of California, the cool breeze, the giant pines, the .... </div>
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brush .... dust .... brush .... casino .... brush. Welcome to Nevada. </div>
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I must say my very first impression of Nevada was not the best. As we rolled into the RV Park and I hopped out of the car, and everything suddenly turned to slow motion. A blast of heat immobilized me in my tracks. I suddenly it felt as if I was trying to walk through an invisible wall of jello. Only the jello was a heatwave of 110 degrees. With sweat starting to drip down, I could not run to the pool fast enough. Jumping into the water, I am pretty sure I heard a "pizzzzzz" of steam coming off the splash. Why would anyone who lives here EVER leave their air conditioned houses. </div>
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I didn't know how we were going to survive the next week, slowly inching down the sizzling roads of Nevada. I didn't know how I was going to survive the day! But then things started to turn around as soon as the sun started to set. </div>
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We followed the echo of an announcer on speaker and found a rodeo being held by the local casino. Cowboy boots, cowboy hats, leather, sounds of snorting bulls - this was going to be awesome! The first event we got to see was not the bull riding however, but goat riding. Yes, children as young as 4 or 5 years old would strap themselves on the back of goats and hold on for dear life. They were bull riders in training! </div>
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And then the real bull riders came out and did their thing... VERY cool! But the most impressive members of the rodeo in my opinion were the bull ranglers that came in at the end and tried to push, pull, yank, and lasso the bull into a tiny little exit in the gate. THEY were some talented cowboys! </div>
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Leaving the rodeo, we grabbed some concession food. But this was not just any ol' hot dog - what they had for sale were things called Indian tacos and Indian fried bread. I had forgotten how many Indian reservations dot the Nevada terrain, and I had always been so curious about the culture on these reservations. But in the short time we had, all I got to ask the woman at the stand was about the types of food they cooked! She explained that Indian tacos consisted of all the same ingredients as a Mexican taco, but the real diference comes from the bread. The bread they use is fluffy and fried, crunchy on the outside - and like air on the inside. Then the Indian fried bread, which is what I got, was very similar to a typical carnival funnel cake - only it felt like I was biting into a cloud! Yum. </div>
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After the rodeo was over, they invited the crowd to the after party at the casino, where they would "buckle" the bull riding winner with the big gold belt buckle. Kiersten and I went for a bit, and even decided to gamble a little to really get into the Nevada atmosphere. We both chose the penny slot machines, because at least that way you get the most turns for your dollar! I put in $2 and started pressing the "bet 1" button over and over and over. At times I would win another nickel or so, and the machine would sing to me and light up! It was fun! But then the rolling thing landed on something that said I got 6 free turns. The machine started going for these turns on auto pilot, so during my little break I ran up to the front and tried to submit my rodeo ticket stub for a drawing. Well, it turned out I was too late for the drawing .... but not to late to still win. I walked back to my machine and Kiersten was like, Annie ... I think you are winning? We looked at my screen at it was flashing and blinking and showing that I had won $200!!!!! Without even being around it!!!!!!!! </div>
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... I was beginning to warm up to Nevada. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Right off of Hwy 50 </td></tr>
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The next few days riding through Nevada all blended together. It was beautiful, the terrain was vast and the roads wide open. But it was also the exact same view for miles and miles and miles. However, when I finally got the chance to hop on my motorized bicycle to ride along with Kiersten, I suddenly got to experience Nevada in a way I never could have imagined. There is something so freeing about riding through the desert on a bicycle, even a little motorized one. All I could here was the little motor putt putting, all I could feel was the wind on my face, and the best part - I could sing songs at the top of my lungs and absolutely NO ONE could hear me for miles.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kiersten riding down the Loneliest Road in America Hwy 50</td></tr>
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As I was cruising down Hwy 50 (also known as the Loneliest Road in America) I watched the buzzards circle around Kiersten and me - maybe we were one of the first live things they'd seen in awhile, and maybe they were hoping we wouldn't survive the 320 mile stretch. I cranked my throttle and putt-putted ahead of Kiersten to get a shot of her rolling past me a few miles ahead. As I started racing down the Highway as fast as my little 66 cc motor would let me, all of a sudden what looked like a tornado rose up right beside me. I turned my head and realized I was starring right at a dust cyclone. It decide to ride alongside of me for a good 2 miles or so! That was the coolest feeling - in my head, I imagined myself in the movie "Twister" trying to outrun the tornado riding along right beside of me.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Two Dust Cyclones!</td></tr>
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Then, not 5 miles up the road, we started seeing "WARNING DO NOT CROSS FENCE" and Navy Air Base signs. Kiersten stopped her bike and turned around to tell us she knew exactly what this was - a Navy air base to test bombs.<br />
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BOOOOOOOOOOOM. Just as the words left her mouth we felt a vibration in the ground and a low rumble that gradually got louder and deeper. The sound reminded me of one time I went to the zoo with my family, and out of nowhere the lions started roaring so loud and so deep, every bone in our body shook. We looked over and a few miles out, we saw the dark smoke risking into the air - the aftermath of a bomb that had just dropped.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A bomb just dropped in the Navy Air Base</td></tr>
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But dust cyclones, bombs, and buzzards were not the only startling things on the road. One of the first days we rode through Nevada, a storm started to roll in. Kiersten thought she could beat the storm for the most part, so she kept on riding as the sky started to darken and the wind started to pick up. I was ridding behind her when I almost fell off my bike from the CRASH sound of one giant lightning bolt that, with no exaggeration, filled the entire sky from left to right. I had never seen anything so big, so terrifying, and so beautiful! But that being said - we hopped right back in the car after that and didn't take any chances riding through a storm.<br />
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Our final stop in Nevada (just outside the Utah border) was a city called Baker. This place was absolutely minuscule They had one restaurant and one grocery store (if you can call a place that stocks up on only beans and chips a grocery store). The people who lived there were so outdoorsie, and had jobs like rangling up rattle snakes during the day, and giving star tours during the night. We went to one of these star sessions, almost every single constellation shone clear as day. That's the one good thing about living in a small town, you get to see all the stars.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpU1QY5dX5A0C-tfKq1UK5PmMJ7dMEeCX-3a2-JjxbEtJrPLr88IUZvxUl8LOcnIaCxigVQWJkOWFdwb_PwHeyKEa9oN9XrLNN-CaTSNlkfEe0xJXv3Zzvld13yaGq0mwwG3wxWefb7_M/s1600/IMG_5212.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpU1QY5dX5A0C-tfKq1UK5PmMJ7dMEeCX-3a2-JjxbEtJrPLr88IUZvxUl8LOcnIaCxigVQWJkOWFdwb_PwHeyKEa9oN9XrLNN-CaTSNlkfEe0xJXv3Zzvld13yaGq0mwwG3wxWefb7_M/s400/IMG_5212.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Starry Night Sky in Baker, NV</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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So all in all - I think once you get past the repetitive landscape, the impossible heat, and the mile stretches of not one human being in site .... Nevada actually has some really beautiful parts to it, things you cannot see anywhere else in the world. I'm very excited about hitting Utah next, but I am pleasantly surprised with how incredible of an experience riding through Nevada actually was. </div>
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Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02427933893021813957noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8912489167502428615.post-12686332875180082712013-06-07T13:25:00.002-07:002013-06-07T13:34:47.405-07:00Bike America - Journey through CaliforniaIt's hard to believe it's only been 5 days since we started this trip. So much has happened it is almost hard to keep track of! I am currently in a cute little coffee shop called "Alpina Coffee" in South Tahoe, trying to salvage the few hours of electricity we get before heading back to our campsite for the night. But let me back track the best I can...<br />
<br />
Day 2 of the trip went pretty smoothly. Kiersten and her biking buddy James went off to conquer 80 miles, 5 straight miles consisted of a constant incline. I drove ahead with the support vehicle to their ending destination that day in Davis, California. Davis was one of the most interesting towns I had ever seen, because it was one of the first places I saw more BICYCLE traffic than CAR traffic. Speed bikes, hipster bikes, mountain bikes, parents biking with 3 children hooked on the back in kiddie seats. This place was the biking capital of the world. You felt so comfortable walking around, not having to look twice because you knew the cars would stop for you. At one point we walked by a train station. I watched the train stop, the doors open .... and bicyclists roll out in a line RIDING their bikes! It looked like a magic trick! How did they all fit in that train and have enough space to hop on their bikes to ride out? No walking necessary. I was in awe of this place... and it made me kind of want to hop on a bike of my own.<br />
<br />
Day 3 my wish was granted. I was originally suppose to hop on my motorized bicycle to follow Kiersten down the American River Bike path this day - but was dismayed to learn that the pathway didn't allow motorized vehicles. But Kiersten suggested I hop on her spare bike and ride with her. I laughed at this suggestion, and when it hit me she was serious ... I considered the options. No, I hadn't ridden a bike in years. No, I had no idea how to change the gears of a road bike. Yes, I realized this was one of Kiersten's really expensive bikes and if I crashed I could damage it... and my camera equipment that would be strapped to my back. But when I looked at the big picture, I remembered the message of this entire Bike Across America ... to accomplish things that seem impossible. That inspired me.<br />
<br />
The morning started off slow. Kiersten had to change out the pedals for me since I didn't have the proper biking shoes with clips. It took a lot longer than expected, but it was nice to wander around Old Sacramento for a bit before we started our ride. I felt so cool because Kiersten had dressed me up like a professional bicyclist, even down to the padded bike shorts! But realization hit that I was NOT in face a professional, when I started taking the first few strides of the bike. It was so difficult for me to balance, I couldn't even get it going at first. My camera kept sliding down and smacking my knee and throwing me off balance, but Kiersten didn't give up on me. She took my camera from me even though it added extra weight to her pack. And she hopped on her bike and told me to follow her. After a few wobbly turns and clumsy hand break moves ... I finally started to get the hang of it!<br />
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Eventually I felt comfortable enough to ride with my camera once again strapped to my back. I felt the wind hit my face and began to see all this BEAUTIFUL scenery around me, and before I knew it Kiersten announced that we had already gone 10 miles! She asked if I wanted to stop or continue on the 35 miles. I didn't know if I could make it for sure, but I wanted to try. I hadn't had enough of it yet! So we continued on and it was one of the best decisions I have made on this trip. I got some great footage of Kiersten by pedaling ahead and having her pass me, then hoping back on the bike and catching up.<br />
<br />
At one point we were going around a corner and we saw this guy off of his bike, motioning his hands for us to stop. We put on our breaks just in time to see a HUGE snack slivering across the bike path. I hoped off the bike and pulled out my camera just in time to get it slivering away into the forest. I had seen snakes in Brazil before, but they were always so small and colorful. This one was so big! It was after I crawled up within a few feet to get the shot that the guy decided to tell us that was a rattlesnake. UHHHHHH..... had I known that I might not have gotten so close. But it was so exciting to have seen my very first rattlesnake in the wild!<br />
<br />
3 1/2 hours and one very sore butt later, we finally got to our destination. I was exhausted, my legs were burning, but I felt so accomplished. I can now say I contributed by riding for Bike America and what it stands for. And I definitely want to do it again!<br />
<br />
Day 4 - this day took a turn for the worse. We drove up to meet Kiersten at her first checkpoint, and as we saw her heading towards us ... off her bike ... and limping.... we knew something went wrong. It turns out Kiersten's Garmin took her on some really dangerous roads. And after getting honked at and almost pushed off the road by a guy driving a truck, she took a hairpin turn too fast and fell hard. She didn't get her feet out of the clips in time, and the twisting of the bike as it hit the ground really messed up her knee. She made a tough decision to stop riding for the day because she didn't want to push boundaries and permanently injure herself. <br />
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But what was looking like a pretty horrible day, actually turned out pretty cool. In the support vehicle, we accidentally stumbled upon a beautiful lake. Kiersten, being injured but still wanting to enjoy the beauty of America while we are all doing this - said we should turn off and jump in! So that's exactly what we did. I have never felt more refreshed jumping into a body of water. Then when we got back in the car, Garmin kind of failed us and took us the wrong way back. But low and behold we ended up at Lake Tahoe! So we decided to take a few days to explore here and get Kiersten's leg better. <br />
<br />
Northern California is one of the most beautiful parts of the country I've even seen. I'm sure I'm going to say this many times during this trip - but I have never seen so many breathtaking sites in one day. From the snow cap mountains, to the crystal clear lakes, to the giant trees that just fill the air with fresh pine scent .... it's so easy to fall in love with nature here.<br />
So far on this trip I have learned to not be afraid to try something new. Even if you fail, you still learned something new that day. And if you succeed, you will be able to take that with you for the rest of your life.<br />
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I've also learned to take the time to enjoy the beauty of the world around you. This morning I took a little hike on my own and discovered a beautiful creek! I climbed up on this fallen log and dangled my feet over the babbling water ... it felt so wonderful. I have to admit, I have been very stressed out about this documentary and making it the best I possibly can. I get nervous about finding the story and asking people the right questions and having the camera rolling at the right times. But I need to keep reminding myself to take a deep breath, and everything will work out. By taking myself out of that stress and allowing myself to experience the beauty of this trip first hand, only then will I be able to tell a good story.<br />
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So let the journey continue .... <br />
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<br />Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02427933893021813957noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8912489167502428615.post-57766341527166409962013-06-02T19:34:00.000-07:002013-06-02T19:34:34.012-07:00Bike America - Day One - San Francisco to Napa ValleyWell today was officially the first day of the Bike America journey. Kiersten has so graciously let me tag along on her adventure to film what I hope will be an epic documentary about it all. The Downs family has been so amazing - Kiersten's mom and dad picked me up from Indiana, and I got to ride with them across the country to San Francisco where we met up with Kiersten. That was my first cross country adventure, and even though it only lasted a few days - we drove through some amazing sites!<br />
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Some of my favorite sites were the cowboy towns of Wyoming, the mountain ranges in Utah and Nevada, and the CRAZIEST one in my opinion ... the Bonneville Salt Flats. It felt like we were in Alaska with snow all over the ground as we were driving through these never ending salt flats. And it didn't make the trek through any easier when we looked down and realized the gas tank was on empty. With a little bit of faith and a determination - we just BARELY made it to a gas station before being stranded on the side of the road. Luckily for us, even if that had happened, we had 3 bikes right in the back of the camper to save us!<br />
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After arriving to San Francisco, picking up Kiersten and having a crazy media frenzy day (MTV and VA production crews) the day finally came for Kiersten to take the first stride of her pedal. Day one of the journey, and I opted to ride with the support vehicle instead of hoping on my motorized bicycle. Kiersten said that going across the Golden Gate Bridge on my bike would be both dangerous and terrifying. With the narrow way, crazy wind/height, and my lack of experience on this machine .... I agreed whole-heartedly!<br />
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We arrived to the Golden Gate Bridge at 8 AM and met up with 3 student veterans/supporters of Bike America. The four of them took off only an hour later, and Kiersten's parents and I watch them disappear into the majestic red pillars of the Golden Gate.<br />
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A few hours later, Kiersten's parents and I drove to the first checkpoint - a cheese factory about 40 miles from the Golden Gate Bridge. We sat down, I got the cameras set up, and we waiting. Then we waited some more. Then we kept on waiting.....<br />
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By the time the 5th hour passed since the crew took off that morning, we started getting a little bit worried. Had they had a problem? Was there an accident? Or did they simply just keep on riding to the next destination?? We had no cell service and no way to tell.<br />
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As the 6th hour approached, Kiersten's mom decided that we should continue on to Napa Valley and hope that they just kept on riding. As we drove away from the cheese factory and cell service was retained.... ALAS!!! A TEXT MESSAGE FROM KIERSTEN saying that they had decided to continue riding so they wouldn't lose the daylight!<br />
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Whew, I'm not going to lie - I was a little bit nervous that the entire trip would end tragically on the very first day. But mama and daddy Downs always had a positive outlook and knew she'd make it one way or another. Just goes to show parent's know best!<br />
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Tomorrow I will be riding with Kiersten from Napa Valley to Sacramento. Say a prayer that I don't accidentally rev the motor off a cliff or something crazy! (mom don't read that)Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02427933893021813957noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8912489167502428615.post-49455076919246830802013-04-12T20:06:00.003-07:002013-04-12T20:20:33.758-07:00The Many Benefits of Visitors <!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Hold tight this is going to be a long post!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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So one great thing I’ve found living in New York, is there
is always someone you know visiting the city on any given weekend, If not
visiting YOU. Which means … doing fun touristy things you might not have made
time to do normally! Here’s a list of
some of my favorite things I’ve done in the city with my visitors. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><u>Statue of Liberty
& Ellis Island<o:p></o:p></u></b></div>
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<br /></div>
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Although it’s much more cost effective and a great view to
see the Statue of Liberty by taking the Staten Island Ferry, it’s still a very
cool experience to actually take the Statue of Liberty tour and listen to the
history of the ol’ lady! My sister and I decided to go the tour route, and we
learned all kind of facts – like the Statue of Liberty’s nose is 10 feet tall,
she is hallow inside and as thin as a penny, and she is made of copper and was
originally brown. We also heard a story told by a woman who remembers coming to
America when she was a little girl. She said they spent days on a crowded boat,
suffering on their journey in order to reach freedom, and when they finally
arrived – her dad picked her up and said “Look at the pretty lady”. The site of
the Statue of Liberty made her feel at home.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoPNIHEU0nf3CUKvLFZ4HbdOGXybNGNCI3yteDs1vBx-yr2UaPh3fjHittbgD4wbIj2tpqPUHUxPhMonfHRWsVEoecxot3ShAfSakQQqF5S93dEVrOEIQWglYzWqjBkksOZFbsWOrpar0/s1600/532656_4297269879002_1821665329_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoPNIHEU0nf3CUKvLFZ4HbdOGXybNGNCI3yteDs1vBx-yr2UaPh3fjHittbgD4wbIj2tpqPUHUxPhMonfHRWsVEoecxot3ShAfSakQQqF5S93dEVrOEIQWglYzWqjBkksOZFbsWOrpar0/s400/532656_4297269879002_1821665329_n.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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Then at Ellis Island, we took another headphone tour when
took us through the journey of newcomers to America. There were so many steps
you had to take in order to be deemed “suitable” to enter the country. If you were
too old, too unhealthy, or mentally disabled – they could send you right on
back to where you came from, separating you from your family possibly forever. <o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvfzbNukYqbjRmJKNPixBMYAOhUBcP9v5kkfwVYSAqiuea2VK6LCTXSQIqAQVEJ_t7lK40eAjTP5Bl-moz7CqVI1ljWYNkPGaX1tOnb2KvlUHQO5zXmnUHVzB_EdB5E0FcGeqLWqL4Pok/s1600/553980_4297270319013_53106192_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvfzbNukYqbjRmJKNPixBMYAOhUBcP9v5kkfwVYSAqiuea2VK6LCTXSQIqAQVEJ_t7lK40eAjTP5Bl-moz7CqVI1ljWYNkPGaX1tOnb2KvlUHQO5zXmnUHVzB_EdB5E0FcGeqLWqL4Pok/s320/553980_4297270319013_53106192_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cindy listen to these interesting facts</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
It was such an interesting experience stepping back into
time. But I also found much entertainment stepping back to modern days and
realizing this was a part of the movie where they filmed Hitch. Oh silly Will
Smith and your quirky ways.</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><u>Serendipity<o:p></o:p></u></b></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A place I visited with both my mother and my sister, on
behalf of one of our favorite movies, Serendipity! Usually an hour long wait
(with the exception of how lucky my mother is) we were so happy to get an iced
cold frozen hot chocolate, and relax our exhausted legs from all the tourist
walking. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlZlVInt-uXGsBYOuipDOlr8nRKzzhApWY06Pt9B_aiVSBqQtS63_q44TsdYEGFcU85sCnkmxCIlWAOS2O0vurVzTzFm8-idbEaw9A0aqQoV3cmLeyicvMN2FeYMzXXUULr1FvtbVtEAE/s1600/394621_4297253878602_980429253_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlZlVInt-uXGsBYOuipDOlr8nRKzzhApWY06Pt9B_aiVSBqQtS63_q44TsdYEGFcU85sCnkmxCIlWAOS2O0vurVzTzFm8-idbEaw9A0aqQoV3cmLeyicvMN2FeYMzXXUULr1FvtbVtEAE/s200/394621_4297253878602_980429253_n.jpg" width="149" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiQAxfLXTEuh5hkiUGZX3z_4XMqWPfXapmIi8IKnnEeOi9DXl4fINmXQskLdpDiViOEt3F69xCrfCCo1iaGZiYzqvoj7LqLFa5AYqa5x8jA9A2dps8CY1_5eJK31yYwpXtE7QHj5hlHzU/s1600/602271_4297254438616_846352603_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiQAxfLXTEuh5hkiUGZX3z_4XMqWPfXapmIi8IKnnEeOi9DXl4fINmXQskLdpDiViOEt3F69xCrfCCo1iaGZiYzqvoj7LqLFa5AYqa5x8jA9A2dps8CY1_5eJK31yYwpXtE7QHj5hlHzU/s200/602271_4297254438616_846352603_n.jpg" width="150" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2xTs2RXqDCWjTak4FDQlTSHOcf16eRivqagOz_k2io4G-wBj5uiVohk8oRQrbGoL19iYTEINsfx9fhZm1s9SCzI1G1sICD4YOuIQs9BGF99oXWAivSLPgtVxKITCR1-bBdxyqMN5Hn9E/s1600/385742_4686242284821_902682299_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2xTs2RXqDCWjTak4FDQlTSHOcf16eRivqagOz_k2io4G-wBj5uiVohk8oRQrbGoL19iYTEINsfx9fhZm1s9SCzI1G1sICD4YOuIQs9BGF99oXWAivSLPgtVxKITCR1-bBdxyqMN5Hn9E/s200/385742_4686242284821_902682299_n.jpg" width="150" /></a></div>
</div>
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<b><u><br /></u></b>
<b><u><br /></u></b>
<b><u>9/11 Memorial<o:p></o:p></u></b></div>
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<br /></div>
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I believe I have visited this location more than any other
tourist spot in the city. And every time it fills me with such an odd feeling
of gravity. I think this is due to the fact we all actually lived through this
tragedy, so suddenly the memorial brings personal emotion back on the table. Before
we would even enter the memorial, I’d look up and see how close the new Freedom
Tower felt to us on the streets of New York, and think what it must have been
like to look up and see the twin towers engulfed in black smoke. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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The actual memorial consists of 2 large fountains cascading
down into what looks like a bottomless hole, standing right where they two
towers stood. I don’t know if this is suppose to represent the falling of the
towers, or the emptiness felt by the country after the event – but whatever it
represents, it’s impactful. The fountains are bordered with the names of the
people who didn’t survive. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyyKkfOr60emBPF2QrnYzbAfCmiviN_n0c0HxVB9Zv7D_P9WT3IN1V94eqjhrkvTNt_tR8mI25hfkHZuEyXWT1LaQn6BJ72hgXTgITsMBqnb68lxGcV0Gfcgq8M97SXqkt7tkyawjsR1c/s1600/541798_4297251958554_1563894232_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyyKkfOr60emBPF2QrnYzbAfCmiviN_n0c0HxVB9Zv7D_P9WT3IN1V94eqjhrkvTNt_tR8mI25hfkHZuEyXWT1LaQn6BJ72hgXTgITsMBqnb68lxGcV0Gfcgq8M97SXqkt7tkyawjsR1c/s320/541798_4297251958554_1563894232_n.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
</div>
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Being in New York for the Sept 11<sup>th</sup> anniversary
suddenly brought me first hand right into the emotions the people felt in the city.
I watched a showing of a documentary about that day, after the documentary was
over – the director took questions. There in that audience were various people
who had lost husbands, children, sisters, and parents in the towers. Seeing
them cry instantly brought tears to my eyes and a lump in my throat. But most
of them just wanted to thank the director for helping them feel a little more
at peace with her documentary. <o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7fVnPCRnB9TZVDk5pdVo2X8hW7i4OK-tWndgyULLBFUsmvgdHoXFRKO-wIzcCDnMS-p4htr0cF_HEr0JJ9fpBNh1LPbl0UfeUBERj8JSCYe6eLsf4yP8ZQdSgsxFOnB_XNofelyxSHqc/s1600/381136_4629285779192_677414062_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7fVnPCRnB9TZVDk5pdVo2X8hW7i4OK-tWndgyULLBFUsmvgdHoXFRKO-wIzcCDnMS-p4htr0cF_HEr0JJ9fpBNh1LPbl0UfeUBERj8JSCYe6eLsf4yP8ZQdSgsxFOnB_XNofelyxSHqc/s320/381136_4629285779192_677414062_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
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<b><u>Brooklyn Bridge<o:p></o:p></u></b></div>
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<br /></div>
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The iconic, the majestic, the wonderful Brook… “BIKE ON YOUR
RIGHT! MOVE, MOVE!!!!” Walking across Brooklyn Bridge is all those things,
while also constantly watch your back for the insane cyclists that must be
training for the Olympics for how seriously they take their daily rides. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm03P4pr1svkBdr17hto3ZsrbOhw_KFsUpOyLJIpRvEVhqk6GRqDMo9bva03dXEk8Hs_MM8rFEM4hdGAs-OKTcvVR9unT5RTvqRAEVVqXMEzSRmtDLDd7GT5ykfmZUHvLwk61RjDqaxGs/s1600/577403_4297271439041_1315357134_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm03P4pr1svkBdr17hto3ZsrbOhw_KFsUpOyLJIpRvEVhqk6GRqDMo9bva03dXEk8Hs_MM8rFEM4hdGAs-OKTcvVR9unT5RTvqRAEVVqXMEzSRmtDLDd7GT5ykfmZUHvLwk61RjDqaxGs/s320/577403_4297271439041_1315357134_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
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Walking across the bridge at sunset is the absolute best
time to enjoy the view, and it also means you’ll step over to the Brooklyn side
right when it gets dark and the city lights come on. Which means seeing one of
my favorite views of the city, the buildings of Manhattan and the Bridge lit up
and reflecting in the East River.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFPjFoy09QTclGtmFnVeG0H3Hj5d3d9VIyyB8rkaFfQO6fbCjcX9UM6mb3KzKbtAMMpb3ynnUXB4GeQb5gCJBfTWyMK_Db2HPDUWbBK52OKjLtpatOowPzlvtEpUX9F3xd9lG0MFmp4PI/s1600/bdce4622e28611e1925f22000a1c891a_6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFPjFoy09QTclGtmFnVeG0H3Hj5d3d9VIyyB8rkaFfQO6fbCjcX9UM6mb3KzKbtAMMpb3ynnUXB4GeQb5gCJBfTWyMK_Db2HPDUWbBK52OKjLtpatOowPzlvtEpUX9F3xd9lG0MFmp4PI/s1600/bdce4622e28611e1925f22000a1c891a_6.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
From
either the pier side or the DUMBO side – it’s an incredible sight. Plus if it’s
not too cold you can get some of the best ice cream in the city at the Brooklyn
Ice Cream Factory!<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
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</div>
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<br /></div>
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<b><u>China Town<o:p></o:p></u></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I will say this, I am not much of a brand name shopper so I
never fully experienced the adventure of shopping for fake purses, sunglasses
and watches in this part of the city. But I DID walk through this area with my
sister, and we honestly felt like we had stepped into a different country. Especially when we went to a post office to mail a package,
and they had to find a translator for Cindy and I because no one spoke English!
Haha a true other country in a city.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsB9kdeclUFek2ygr33QItEeAq1I7B2xtvdhonTPu0eBUoPcKIuyc3wYYwaO-bgL3SEQMunDy7_EMxSbhU84utABj4E-CVGT65gq372KoVcTCkvXGwrZJk5lQ5_oVAcSZqSV_rXjeWwo4/s1600/560880_4297257278687_1959036992_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsB9kdeclUFek2ygr33QItEeAq1I7B2xtvdhonTPu0eBUoPcKIuyc3wYYwaO-bgL3SEQMunDy7_EMxSbhU84utABj4E-CVGT65gq372KoVcTCkvXGwrZJk5lQ5_oVAcSZqSV_rXjeWwo4/s320/560880_4297257278687_1959036992_n.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
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<b><u>Central Park
Biking<o:p></o:p></u></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Central park is always such a wonderful place to enjoy nature
while still seeing a pretty cool skyline of the city buildings. We wanted to
see as much of the park as we could, so the best way we thought how – would be
to bike! Well, now looking back and realizing how huge Central Park is, and
considering my lack of cycling athleticism, this turned out to be quite the
work out. Who knew New York had so many HILLS in the park?! <o:p></o:p><br />
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But it was cool to see how many things fit inside that
enormous area. A zoo, a swimming pool, a few baseball diamonds, soccer fields,
lakes with kayaks floating by, fountains, and mountains of rocks around every
bend with fearless children running all over them.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The craziest bike ride I ever had occurred when my friend
Chelsea came to visit. We rented bikes from a very cheap place, which we
quickly realized was so cheap because we had to pick up the bikes in Time
Square … and ride them all the way to Central Park. Dogging taxis in the middle
of Time Square on bicycles is an unforgettably surreal experience I never want
to have again. <o:p></o:p><br />
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<b><u>Criff Dogs<o:p></o:p></u></b></div>
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My cousin and I stumbled upon this hidden gem, where the
world’s best hot dog lives. You may think I am exaggerating, but I would serve
this hot dog at my future wedding. A hot dog, wrapped in bacon, and slices of
avocado placed snug inside the bun … ah it was a the best heart attack food I
ever tasted. Not to mention our tables were Pac Man arcade games! <o:p></o:p></div>
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The other cool part about this restaurant was it doubled as
a Speak Easy. If you entered the phone booth in the corner, picked up the
telephone, and dialed – a secret door would open and you would find yourself in
a little fancy, hidden bar! The speak easy was really awesome, but really
expensive – so we enjoyed our cheap, delicious, amazing hot dogs instead. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<b><u>Grand Central<o:p></o:p></u></b></div>
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It takes only a few minutes to take it all in, but it’s
still a sight to see! To walk around in the main concourse and realize how many
flash mobs have taken place there, and how movies have been filmed there, it’s
pretty incredible. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Plus there is a hidden gem of an area right beside the main
concourse, called the Whispering Room. If one person stands at one end of the
room, another person stands at the very opposite end – and if you whisper into
the wall … the other person can hear you as clear as day! <o:p></o:p></div>
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<b><u>Grimaldi’s<o:p></o:p></u></b></div>
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One of the oldest and most famous pizza places in the city.
The best one is right over the Brooklyn Bridge. It’s a converted old bank and
oddly looks like Gringot’s from Harry Potter (direct quote from my friend
Katie). Getting any kind of this brick oven pizza accompanied with an old
fashion cherry soda – such a satisfying meal. <o:p></o:p><br />
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<b><u>Yankees and Mets<o:p></o:p></u></b></div>
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The very first baseball game I went to in the city was a
Mets game, because it was the cheapest. When the Cubs (my FAVORITE team)
absolutely demolished the Mets, I realized why the tickets were so cheap. But
there is still something to say about eating a pretzel and enjoying a baseball
game with friends. <o:p></o:p><br />
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The first Yankees game I went to on the other hand, wow. You
could feel the energy of the stadium as soon as you stepped out of the subway!
Everyone in the crowd was cheering, everyone was singing to old fashion
baseball songs, the benches would rattle whenever a Yankee hit a homerun, and
we saw them beat the Red Sox in one of the best baseball games I’ve ever seen!
I felt like I had been apart of such a great New York tradition! <o:p></o:p><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfSy_Bm4VscI4H_Xp71lG1QiAb_Q0psubK-d3tcswkuhMrVsA36aYKsDZimghfdTS0VbVwo0uCDR61tGy0JhB5ebsoDI17Ki8oDtxOayYS23kFLkz5EW3_YPAt0__xEV2k5NtXVuWtGaA/s1600/64850_10201044886913388_1507110062_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfSy_Bm4VscI4H_Xp71lG1QiAb_Q0psubK-d3tcswkuhMrVsA36aYKsDZimghfdTS0VbVwo0uCDR61tGy0JhB5ebsoDI17Ki8oDtxOayYS23kFLkz5EW3_YPAt0__xEV2k5NtXVuWtGaA/s320/64850_10201044886913388_1507110062_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<b><u>Museums<o:p></o:p></u></b></div>
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Art museums in New York are a plenty. There are tons, such
as the Met, the Guggenheim, and MoMA. <o:p></o:p></div>
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MoMa, or the Museum of Modern Art, is both incredible … and
confusing. For those of us that don’t really understand modern art unless it is
blatantly spelled out for us, some exhibits may seem a bit odd. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinP1Iw0DFstkAwwhhjCZXe7cNcYVVBLxBX7DMEWnTjYbPfOc0V9-H0mMMoZ3rcyHva7nVHwynKSY_Ny-nGUI-hArq6xZCwZExjnHKZX56zbuOTZdYpv9CQqm1tGGVCJTIWYT4gyL_Yu9M/s1600/860740_10200739801846452_1917663636_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinP1Iw0DFstkAwwhhjCZXe7cNcYVVBLxBX7DMEWnTjYbPfOc0V9-H0mMMoZ3rcyHva7nVHwynKSY_Ny-nGUI-hArq6xZCwZExjnHKZX56zbuOTZdYpv9CQqm1tGGVCJTIWYT4gyL_Yu9M/s320/860740_10200739801846452_1917663636_o.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>
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But it was amazing to get to see famous pieces of art such
as <i>Starry Night</i> up close and
personal!<o:p></o:p></div>
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My absolute favorite museum however, is the Museum of
Natural History. We walked through dinosaur bones, travels about different
cultures, warped through galaxies, and saw a bunch of rocks (yea the geology
section was one of the less exciting ones). <o:p></o:p><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCmtM6-9lSTH7GwzJSguzVDqKh4jdAlorA-fTk-vo7zlRX5bXcUKk6YlUq4eltLM5cXNNvxtF0Ii3BmD-kEkkupn71tV3IEtWuFPi2lDma0YYpKDagorb9GeS3JnZRlUAsZ4va_lZPqKQ/s1600/392998_10200383648702846_1474775638_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCmtM6-9lSTH7GwzJSguzVDqKh4jdAlorA-fTk-vo7zlRX5bXcUKk6YlUq4eltLM5cXNNvxtF0Ii3BmD-kEkkupn71tV3IEtWuFPi2lDma0YYpKDagorb9GeS3JnZRlUAsZ4va_lZPqKQ/s320/392998_10200383648702846_1474775638_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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The exhibit I both loved and hated the most was the aquatic
section. The only reason I hated this part, was because a giant life size blue
whale hung above the heads of all of the visitors.<br />
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<br />
I have always had an odd
terror of whales, and seeing just how big it is – I got the chills. But seeing
all the fish and creatures that life in the ocean, THAT was really incredible.
There was even one exhibit of a giant squid fighting a whale! I didn’t know
which one to root for?<o:p></o:p></div>
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Those were just some of the fun touristy things I got to do
when visitors came to town! My experience here wouldn’t have been complete
without them!<o:p></o:p><br />
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<!--EndFragment-->Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02427933893021813957noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8912489167502428615.post-23316480019582863562013-04-12T18:07:00.000-07:002013-04-12T18:12:11.043-07:00The Old, the Odd, and the Overlooked<br />
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Some of my favorite experiences I’ve had while living here might not
have started out as the first choice of activities for... well most people. While Coney Island,
GMA’s Backstreet Boy’s Concert, and Roosevelt Island <i>could</i> be described by all three words for which this blog is
entitled … I found some incredible treasures in each of these three
experiences. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<b><u>Coney Island<o:p></o:p></u></b></div>
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What could sound better than an ancient amusement park with
each individual ride owned by a family of carneys that may or may not be able
to guarantee the safety of their rides? … Everything! But I spent my 23<sup>rd</sup>
Birthday in the delightful creepiness that is Coney Island – and it was
amazing! <o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX83yRRok9WrOuJvZ6AdtvlnMkAEvTEjU8zwVgo5mBkaODGt44IsnFCSraHE6ojUizm7T-d3XMu9En_nUxo7t1ddSOSNdAQi0T6DtIYCXPGvJKq1CH06Ry_iGFY2Pjn-19GvNcY-Zz8TQ/s1600/599746_4417220717698_731505454_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX83yRRok9WrOuJvZ6AdtvlnMkAEvTEjU8zwVgo5mBkaODGt44IsnFCSraHE6ojUizm7T-d3XMu9En_nUxo7t1ddSOSNdAQi0T6DtIYCXPGvJKq1CH06Ry_iGFY2Pjn-19GvNcY-Zz8TQ/s320/599746_4417220717698_731505454_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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It didn’t help the eerie atmosphere that it was a slightly
rainy day that day, which cast a dark gloom on the devilish smile of the
amusement park logo. But Coney Island is a fairly cheap way to enjoy a bunch of
fun and slightly dangerous rides! The first ride we went on, a dad was freaking
out because his child’s safety bar was wide open and the ride was about to
start. But no worries, the Coney Island folk got to it seconds before we took
off! Where’s the fun in predictable safety codes? <o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSEpZwtBFUQTxv3kIKWqiNHkOcT7wsD3mhY-gSrOMlQKvWUp_xs4sXExhdweg8uGZR3p5FuCFNqacYJRglaQ25DYodFNr_2fy71R4Mbxcl_eac68_HzGbdrKkS_h2m7bt2-aRf1LJHQGo/s1600/209015_4417218637646_1709815827_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSEpZwtBFUQTxv3kIKWqiNHkOcT7wsD3mhY-gSrOMlQKvWUp_xs4sXExhdweg8uGZR3p5FuCFNqacYJRglaQ25DYodFNr_2fy71R4Mbxcl_eac68_HzGbdrKkS_h2m7bt2-aRf1LJHQGo/s320/209015_4417218637646_1709815827_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
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Then there was another ride that was supposed to be a roller
coaster resembling a horse race. We straddled the horse like any professional
jockey would, but when the safety bar pressed against our lower backs and
locked in – all of a sudden we were sitting in the most awkward position imaginable, as if the ride was originally made for a velociraptor. <o:p></o:p></div>
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We ended our incredibly unique amusement park experience
with a few carnival games, a candy apple, and a hot dog from the infamous
“Nathan’s”, which hosts the world hot dog eating competition. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbfODMCd7OJojwn7mMvbsm14SGr_A8CX2nvPwQgZW-jC0YYqs6hJBhZ2sVaYxqzW2WD9gQyrUHNyPATMc5DGL4G86_ZKmEgiyyHU92HNZvl6quyrqsMp5TZJQemzQETAWpRJlGno_rmZQ/s1600/557548_4417220237686_990198497_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbfODMCd7OJojwn7mMvbsm14SGr_A8CX2nvPwQgZW-jC0YYqs6hJBhZ2sVaYxqzW2WD9gQyrUHNyPATMc5DGL4G86_ZKmEgiyyHU92HNZvl6quyrqsMp5TZJQemzQETAWpRJlGno_rmZQ/s320/557548_4417220237686_990198497_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<b><u>GMA Backstreet Boy
Concert</u></b><o:p></o:p></div>
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Every summer, Good Morning America hosts a number of free
concerts in Central Park for their morning shows. Well it just so happened I
had moved to New York right in time for the Backstreet Boys special. Only
catch? You had to get to the park around 4 AM. Not very many of my friends were
willing to do this on a weekday/workday, but one thing I’ve learned is don’t
let the fact that no one can go with you – stop you! You can make friends when
you get there! <o:p></o:p></div>
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So as I sleepily stumbled into the park, I got to enjoy
sunrise with hundreds of people, in a line twisting all the way back through
half of the park. I shared stories with the fellow line waiters about our
backstreet boy fandom way back when. One mom brought her 5-year-old son, who
was disappointed this wasn’t a One Direction concert and that the Backstreet
Boys were … <i>Old. <o:p></o:p></i></div>
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After a few hours the line got moving and (another perk of
doing things solo) I somehow managed to squeeze into the 4<sup>th</sup> or 5<sup>th</sup>
row! The Backstreet Boys came out and gave us all bagels before the show
started, and I spent the following hour singing every single word to every
single song with hundreds of strangers. Best. Day. EVER! <o:p></o:p></div>
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<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJa5khDVQ2PbE93nBDl2W2oZcbsUXEmclo8HI6ja-ALmqQNHbaRSwP0DZW2RGzhQ03BW5ujPM11wQ-j9rM05J5bjUmWLdcxTleAXhlqlouuwoJBi8RKaZiC3ujRqWYj6XQQ7ef1JVirsY/s1600/375812_4625438043001_1906480262_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJa5khDVQ2PbE93nBDl2W2oZcbsUXEmclo8HI6ja-ALmqQNHbaRSwP0DZW2RGzhQ03BW5ujPM11wQ-j9rM05J5bjUmWLdcxTleAXhlqlouuwoJBi8RKaZiC3ujRqWYj6XQQ7ef1JVirsY/s320/375812_4625438043001_1906480262_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
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<b><u>Roosevelt Island</u><i><o:p></o:p></i></b></div>
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<b><u><br /></u></b></div>
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The last odd and overlooked treasure I found in New York was
a little slice of an island called Roosevelt. It stands like a little strip of
bacon between Manhattan and Brooklyn, and isn’t really known for much. But I
LOVED this place! <o:p></o:p></div>
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We would play our weekly work kick ball games on this
island, and on the warm days, it became a relaxing outdoor escape from the
city. Playing kickball in green grass with the bridge and the city skyline as
your view, what more could you ask for! <o:p></o:p></div>
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Oh I can think of one more thing… Bill Murray! We totally
missed him, but apparently Bill Murray came wandering over to Roosevelt Island,
asked for directions, played a few innings of kickball with one of the teams,
and peaced out! How completely random! Just like this island! <o:p></o:p></div>
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The best part is taking the Roosevelt Island cable car back
to Manhattan, where you can get a birds eye view of the East River in all it’s
glory. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbTzUKbf74uTFrZ8XERwrTxDbl24aQkg3yiKWsoZaQXoLzjEJyzzEWyjTfvRB5xVyr-FEUlriXNDXyzz06Whv4l9T1RRbrfEDsNnMLF8yTILGOEv0tYg9Y1KzFl0yQNmf07Gt11uZEVEM/s1600/fa78aab42c4011e2a7f7123138049171_6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbTzUKbf74uTFrZ8XERwrTxDbl24aQkg3yiKWsoZaQXoLzjEJyzzEWyjTfvRB5xVyr-FEUlriXNDXyzz06Whv4l9T1RRbrfEDsNnMLF8yTILGOEv0tYg9Y1KzFl0yQNmf07Gt11uZEVEM/s1600/fa78aab42c4011e2a7f7123138049171_6.jpg" /></a></div>
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Just because it's old or odd - just means it's probably just overlooked!</div>
<!--EndFragment-->Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02427933893021813957noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8912489167502428615.post-90936473833448829182013-04-12T13:50:00.001-07:002013-04-12T18:07:43.432-07:00Juggling Jobs<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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So luckily, the internship at Welcome Change Productions had
turned into a part time job. I had finally moved out of deep Brooklyn and moved
into the high class lifestyle of the upper West Side … for a week. That’s all I
could afford! At around $1,500 a month I would have been in debt fast. Not to
mention that the old lady I was renting from was an insane character (ask me
for stories, I’ll tell you plenty). Luckily, right when I was thinking I might
have to move back home – the women’s residence I had applied to said there was
an open room for me! I was moving to a nunnery! (More to come, that experience
deserves it’s own blog!)<o:p></o:p></div>
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So now that I had cheap rent, a steady part time job, and
lots of free days – it was time to start searching for more work! But how was I
going to break into the production world with zero connections and zero
experience? The only way I knew how to start the process, was to go door to
door of every production company I could find with a resume in my hand. After a
full day walking all over Manhattan, I ended up exhausted and with not a single
response back…. except for one. A post-production company named Goldcrest Post
called me back about interning with them. It wasn’t a paid position, it wasn’t
exactly the career path I wanted to take, but it was an OPPORTUNITY. So I took
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Thus I was thrown head first into a world of stocking the
fridge, getting coffee, going on runs, practicing my Spanish with the lovely
Carmen, answering phones, but most importantly – learning about the business.
Any free time I had I would try to sit in on editing sessions to try and absorb
all I could. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Another benefit of that job was I got to see another cool
part of the city, the Meatpacking district. It’s an industrial-sounding name,
but they have made that once factory-ridden area so pretty. The roads I would
walk on to get to work were cobble stone, trees aligned our block, and best of
all – we worked right next door to the High Line. The high line was once an
above ground railroad that was shut down and converted into an above ground
park. I picnicked up there during lunch breaks, and took little walks that felt
like I was walking right through the buildings. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
I also loved doing tasks for a producer named Gretchen, who
was more involved in the actual production aspect of the films, which was what
I was really interested in. As I would file different permits and contracts,
she would answer all of my rookie questions about the logistics of production. She
even mentioned at one point that her husband worked for a television show
filming in New York, Person of Interest. That peaked my interest, and I asked
her if she ever heard of an opening with them – to let me know! <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Low and behold a few weeks later, they called me to fill in
as an office PA for a day. That brought on job number 3 at the time. I was so
excited about this job because it was an actual Warner Brother production and I
wanted to learn all I could! Little did I know at the time just how much I
would absorb and all the amazing people I would meet from working with Person
of Interest. But I’m getting ahead of myself! <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A few weeks after being called in to POI, I got another job
offer filming short promo videos for a tour company called On Location Tours.
This company gave tours to parts of the city that were known for the movies
filmed there. This job wasn’t exactly a way to make “contacts in the business”
but it is by far one of the best things I did while living here. I got to
wander around New York with fun people and learn a bunch of random facts about
the city! Some of my favorite days were seeing the “Men In Black headquarters”
in the city, learning about the bull statue and how it was sneakily and
illegally plopped into where it stands today, oh and filming the host get
“slushied” for a special Glee episode. It was a blast! <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Here are all of the videos:<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/user/onlocationtours">http://www.youtube.com/user/onlocationtours</a><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
With the addition of one more job organizing the mailing
lists for a documentary, that made 5 jobs I was trying to juggle at once. I was
going crazy trying to plan out my weeks and when I would work where, but little
did I know this is the lifestyle of a LOT of people who live in New York. I met
a few girls in my residence that balance jobs DJ-ing, catering, acting, working
in a hair salon, waitressing, EVERYTHING you can imagine. Some of these girls
had moved from a different country, and were learning English on top of that. Suddenly
after meeting them, my juggling act seemed like a lot lighter load. I was in
awe of their determination while also having to learn a new culture! Because on
top of working, it’s also very hard to learn how to do daily tasks in the city.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For example, normally a grocery store run would consist of me getting in
my car, buying everything I need for the next few weeks, piling it in my trunk,
and driving home. But suddenly now, I was <i>walking</i>
to the store and had to lug everything I bought 10 blocks back home. I had to
learn how to buy little stuff frequently. And with no WAl-Mart ANYWHERE in
Manhattan (gasp) – I had to learn where I could buy what. This could make a few simple
errands take ALL DAY. Not to mention very few public bathrooms in the city,
some days I would find myself frustrated trying to accomplish mundane tasks and
having to pee like a racehorse with still 5 stops left while riding the subway.
Then finally getting home to my TINY little closet of an apartment blowing the
fan directly on me to try to escape the summer heat in the city. It’s definitely not easy living here, but it’s a challenge
with some very cool perks. I could be having the most frustrating day ever, and
stumble upon something I’ve never seen before…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Like a group of people dressed up as animals doing some sort
of modern dance… in the subway.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKqsEuwM-RnoykoPQw4jmL11Q9dlUxbd_aiLVDewudlly7fLUfowgAm7RVHONhNthh2PwVU6Mnu9IqeTFfEUt8JW2fwpOVvlXtGcXxZ1kajd98PTUkf6hja2ajOcnVwg5UlkJ5PDYlSO8/s1600/b55edcfc5e0711e2bbaa22000a1fb198_6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKqsEuwM-RnoykoPQw4jmL11Q9dlUxbd_aiLVDewudlly7fLUfowgAm7RVHONhNthh2PwVU6Mnu9IqeTFfEUt8JW2fwpOVvlXtGcXxZ1kajd98PTUkf6hja2ajOcnVwg5UlkJ5PDYlSO8/s1600/b55edcfc5e0711e2bbaa22000a1fb198_6.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
Or finding a random glowing Spider-Man looking giant ball.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-ar0vCttzUn4XojgdzATMSwXOA5pFvSwJ8iqB48aqMSdy72SkawnxKA4cknfPMEM7UGy4EH8kwhusBvwFxPSnkvZRiZca4aFZ3mCfageSGLPiilC-tIBrLqpcDSK50jip_ZwWIThP4Cw/s1600/IMG_1283.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-ar0vCttzUn4XojgdzATMSwXOA5pFvSwJ8iqB48aqMSdy72SkawnxKA4cknfPMEM7UGy4EH8kwhusBvwFxPSnkvZRiZca4aFZ3mCfageSGLPiilC-tIBrLqpcDSK50jip_ZwWIThP4Cw/s320/IMG_1283.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Or seeing an inspiring sign just right below your feet!</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3WYWJxUdzkWFwSOPLTi2PfRst2txiLILk_LVyKfEe4yz_lyAl11aBO8D5IFq7Jf87vKqa3aksZI7vuWvMdUTuwYF6K5aUf6lkSIAfAZL3XPvLkNfJ5wRtgIoi_DUq_wpmbK7Kj9RTqMo/s1600/ba64fe98fb4711e183b822000a1e8a6e_6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3WYWJxUdzkWFwSOPLTi2PfRst2txiLILk_LVyKfEe4yz_lyAl11aBO8D5IFq7Jf87vKqa3aksZI7vuWvMdUTuwYF6K5aUf6lkSIAfAZL3XPvLkNfJ5wRtgIoi_DUq_wpmbK7Kj9RTqMo/s1600/ba64fe98fb4711e183b822000a1e8a6e_6.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
Or running into a random ball room dance lesson in Union Square.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWqLVDvewMEA_kXPVzGgPN99zI8rUuPIFcjlSHJdr7bJN46VUVesb80MQabZ5blfIQwsGFJgJO32_RIQOa_DZuoNck3T_3eMnhg-Vwd-4AXu3iyPMKvZKjSKRtVN4wdalKR9Qb7H1ueps/s1600/fc845004efd911e1a4431231381407ca_6-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWqLVDvewMEA_kXPVzGgPN99zI8rUuPIFcjlSHJdr7bJN46VUVesb80MQabZ5blfIQwsGFJgJO32_RIQOa_DZuoNck3T_3eMnhg-Vwd-4AXu3iyPMKvZKjSKRtVN4wdalKR9Qb7H1ueps/s1600/fc845004efd911e1a4431231381407ca_6-1.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Or stumbling into a freshman orientation and getting a free
t-shirt from people who think you are a<br />
student.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZfu3DVr9HTFCDPdq-r5ZpIVgvwpR8dXSb2D0bf2PmzRABkPZFBmZKPq_eq9umIvzZII0O5FjtLo68j7ddw_9vi84SWZQXHTqedcZlFfnMNQMsSPyPBjVyY87AY8YX40shcaU7lSqXf70/s1600/9fd636dcf2fa11e1a73722000a1e8a9f_6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZfu3DVr9HTFCDPdq-r5ZpIVgvwpR8dXSb2D0bf2PmzRABkPZFBmZKPq_eq9umIvzZII0O5FjtLo68j7ddw_9vi84SWZQXHTqedcZlFfnMNQMsSPyPBjVyY87AY8YX40shcaU7lSqXf70/s1600/9fd636dcf2fa11e1a73722000a1e8a9f_6.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Or finding Hercules' pharmacy.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0zRBiu-N-Xth3luIj0fvI2N0sxhIhGyri9LKbFYBD7Lfu0-HjVuH6LNYlVmo3GjprWgDBTRc7aN5GsS3cDSPStiV7LBRnA-E7FpoIbGaYQ8NYv9C1fMOaUAbSq0Az8P5tjl1iAdVuq7w/s1600/cb15027cd99311e1a98b22000a1e879e_6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0zRBiu-N-Xth3luIj0fvI2N0sxhIhGyri9LKbFYBD7Lfu0-HjVuH6LNYlVmo3GjprWgDBTRc7aN5GsS3cDSPStiV7LBRnA-E7FpoIbGaYQ8NYv9C1fMOaUAbSq0Az8P5tjl1iAdVuq7w/s1600/cb15027cd99311e1a98b22000a1e879e_6.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Or walking into a coffee shop with the coolest coffee
flavors baked right into the beans.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFgY_DliTgNvogg0t4ND4Q1SafRSWv1WLwX3a4I7ZXU808pp-LupqNH53AmOp5C8plWNymGbXye0TTlR40S-eYqaUWLCPXLFIZZej-WCiZMopuJTre7q6pEHGYKvep-GK4tJ_UoktRb5U/s1600/4a6a5d00456a11e29fa922000a1f8feb_6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFgY_DliTgNvogg0t4ND4Q1SafRSWv1WLwX3a4I7ZXU808pp-LupqNH53AmOp5C8plWNymGbXye0TTlR40S-eYqaUWLCPXLFIZZej-WCiZMopuJTre7q6pEHGYKvep-GK4tJ_UoktRb5U/s1600/4a6a5d00456a11e29fa922000a1f8feb_6.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p>Or taking a break in the New York library</o:p><br />
<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7cIYop54f7gkQHSwbroNs3v8-3CZG9HIFE3LN0kYn20MGwesEHNtzXsbr6PF5AdGe0CX05-wq7QVOKWdtVtI0srKMyQXfoWtgrysjJct7jP54qfuYRc4kMYZhEr25n2Jk6-raAk4F1fY/s1600/IMG_0474.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7cIYop54f7gkQHSwbroNs3v8-3CZG9HIFE3LN0kYn20MGwesEHNtzXsbr6PF5AdGe0CX05-wq7QVOKWdtVtI0srKMyQXfoWtgrysjJct7jP54qfuYRc4kMYZhEr25n2Jk6-raAk4F1fY/s320/IMG_0474.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Or witnessing the gold medal winner of dog
walking.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRpcgkU2TcZtya-9PwTdeyfCtOfKPCgmwjKtKsindU0aIqPv1FiP6PIfMdFwRQJJi30Ye_-vBvOSfpdrjA53VIdQMlC0APT_OOHYyiON2Q6Q6W4CKQdOzD7yNr9TzRWyblYrov9DMPJ_Y/s1600/IMG_1358.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRpcgkU2TcZtya-9PwTdeyfCtOfKPCgmwjKtKsindU0aIqPv1FiP6PIfMdFwRQJJi30Ye_-vBvOSfpdrjA53VIdQMlC0APT_OOHYyiON2Q6Q6W4CKQdOzD7yNr9TzRWyblYrov9DMPJ_Y/s320/IMG_1358.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Or seeing a random dance off break out<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTRlY0EHimXD0HtStVnuAGdEI60KyMlEND69dOrKAyG4gdYQEcH9xxQ5E8cFgpK8IQar3CjhwN2mBx-1G-8RP_IxcVJBFgQYJo48_qL2mRcecRReaxQMKFqFd2Lfj18n9Aaacnzp87m9g/s1600/3cde9566ce0a11e190351231381b5983_6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTRlY0EHimXD0HtStVnuAGdEI60KyMlEND69dOrKAyG4gdYQEcH9xxQ5E8cFgpK8IQar3CjhwN2mBx-1G-8RP_IxcVJBFgQYJo48_qL2mRcecRReaxQMKFqFd2Lfj18n9Aaacnzp87m9g/s1600/3cde9566ce0a11e190351231381b5983_6.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Or my favorite… walking past a wonderful smelling market
selling flowers, just after you got a wiff of a horrible aroma of pee on the
sidewalk… <o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBykgyVKa6-dWRLfldRg9vwBOssgrEbktOYzIJCF_hOlRZqG5egxDel81MSK-rKzSqPRTwXNO0_rT9-wfDnu8zuJYyu3X7dOeJUH5_vQebhLoT1wEPiB6e0mJN40PJp5zFVdWhyUMU8W4/s1600/IMG_0903.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBykgyVKa6-dWRLfldRg9vwBOssgrEbktOYzIJCF_hOlRZqG5egxDel81MSK-rKzSqPRTwXNO0_rT9-wfDnu8zuJYyu3X7dOeJUH5_vQebhLoT1wEPiB6e0mJN40PJp5zFVdWhyUMU8W4/s320/IMG_0903.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p>Or simply just looking up, and remember where you are at. </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTfzK7Cddgn46eM7cLknhyphenhyphenLgG86NnFCAgYQwCnVx_OTyAMvOwto0Gh-eOyUoIrAE5MK71XzHHjgRmP2MhvO7FAc5MlDDmNet6nGt-r6W-yYXwjSELOSWE-sL8UzDnGTypQzN-rIc2SOOY/s1600/IMG_1124.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTfzK7Cddgn46eM7cLknhyphenhyphenLgG86NnFCAgYQwCnVx_OTyAMvOwto0Gh-eOyUoIrAE5MK71XzHHjgRmP2MhvO7FAc5MlDDmNet6nGt-r6W-yYXwjSELOSWE-sL8UzDnGTypQzN-rIc2SOOY/s320/IMG_1124.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s definitely not the easiest thing to do to live here. But despite the struggles, I am so happy I’ve seen the things I have
this year! <o:p></o:p></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02427933893021813957noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8912489167502428615.post-76766244030505045132013-04-12T11:29:00.000-07:002013-04-12T11:42:46.036-07:00Let's start at the very beginning...
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<br />
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Well, I didn’t believe them.
I didn’t believe the people who told me how fast paced the lifestyle is
in New York. I didn’t believe how the only free time I would have would be the
20 minute train rides holding my nose, trying to escape the smelly person on
the other side of the cart. I didn’t
believe that months would go by in a blink of an eye. Now all of a sudden, I
looked back and realized it’s been almost a year since I’ve moved here!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I felt like the moment I stepped onto the New York concrete,
I was skyrocketed forward on a hyper speed moving sidewalk. The proof of that
is right here, on this blog. I love writing on this thing, yet I haven’t
updated a post since July! So that’s why my last few days living in New York,
I’m going to try and write all I can remember about this past year. Because I
know once I leave this crazy, incredible, unforgettable city - it will all feel
like a dream. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So let’s back it up about 11 months ago, when I first moved
to the city. I remember my family driving me to New York, I was crammed in the
back seat with my sleeping mother and all I could pack in two suitcases. As we
crossed over the bridge, my forehead was pressed up against the window as the
city came into view. It was the first time I had ever seen the city skyline,
and I remember feeling an excited/nervous jump in my stomach. As if I was
looking off a cliff about to learn if I could fly, or plummet down below. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCAS8HmT2TOrF2sxpkkHQYmjTnDYW1gziuJ8rDLiOmbgPlBeSIpBrOuqLUqYFSAhFspxjtEoD6AbQwadMts1OF8keCkh3hbEWowMFuB7JShp1Cc1L4YPXluB9ju1sZC3r-j3TB1Xc4bOY/s1600/861021_10200739835887303_440014661_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCAS8HmT2TOrF2sxpkkHQYmjTnDYW1gziuJ8rDLiOmbgPlBeSIpBrOuqLUqYFSAhFspxjtEoD6AbQwadMts1OF8keCkh3hbEWowMFuB7JShp1Cc1L4YPXluB9ju1sZC3r-j3TB1Xc4bOY/s320/861021_10200739835887303_440014661_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I had literally just decided two months earlier to move to
New York, I place I had never even visited. I knew no one there, and the
biggest city I had previously ever lived in was Nashville. Ok let’s be honest,
I lived next door to cows in Eagleville and only visited Nashville. But now, instead of the escaped cows roaming
down my road – a gang of five angry looking men grazed upon my apartment steps
in Brooklyn. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Yes, I had made the novice decision of seeing an Ad on
craiglist for a reasonably priced apartment in:<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
DEEP BROOKLYN <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You’ll have a jolly time riding your days away, since this
apartment is by the 2<sup>nd</sup> to last stop on the 1 train. In a lovely “Up
and Coming” neighborhood, gang shootings are as low as happening once a week!
Every story around the block takes food stamps, and if you don’t have those –
just rob the store, everyone else does! <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
…. Woo sounds fun! <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSwrDu1j3Bj_dJSd-p-17TWCWCgFtjuirzxioT8YVE6SmhYFOylJ4qAynBlEnuEgFluuiQ7TzlFPa9uLKlQue0GkBPDeW3_gbOaGBYy0okPXRMcy99NxKAjlnal5BbS90b846TTnsVUXg/s1600/389103_4297255238636_2027710107_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSwrDu1j3Bj_dJSd-p-17TWCWCgFtjuirzxioT8YVE6SmhYFOylJ4qAynBlEnuEgFluuiQ7TzlFPa9uLKlQue0GkBPDeW3_gbOaGBYy0okPXRMcy99NxKAjlnal5BbS90b846TTnsVUXg/s320/389103_4297255238636_2027710107_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Thankfully, I have the most wonderful and supportive family
– who not only supports my impulsive decisions, but are there for me WHEN I
make mistakes because of those impulsive decisions. I had to live in deep
Brooklyn for at least a month, due to my lease. So my dad, who had just gotten
back home from Brazil, decided to give up his time off to live with me and
serve as my “body guard” walking back home from the train for the rest of that
month. It turned out it was a mistake I am actually very happy I made, because
I got to share a life experience with my dad. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So, why did I decide to drop everything and move to New
York? Well, it had always been a dream of mine to live in that city at some
point in my life. Now seemed as good a time as any! And it being a big city for
production, I was ready to dive head first into my career. So I google
searched, emailed, sent in resumes, emailed again, until finally I found
someone who said she’d give me an internship, that eventually led to a part
time job. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That someone was a documentary filmmaker by the name Alice.
She had won various awards for her documentaries that focus on people with
disabilities. In just a few months I
learned just how much work it takes to make a documentary, with absolutely no
profit in return. But the reason why people put so much time and work to film
them - is to tell the most incredible, real stories. One of those stories was
about a man named Larry. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Larry was one of Alice’s very first documentary subjects. He
was a man with mental disabilities that stole the hearts of his community. They
grouped together and created a fund to keep him living in an apartment in the
West Village, and get him the care he needed. Everyday when I would walk to
work, I’d see Larry in his wheelchair, asking for donations for various causes.
An old man now, he would stay outside all day just to raise a few dollars for
different charities. Ironically right down the road from the apartment featured
on the show Friends, Larry became my instant friend. He would tell me stories
of his life, how he is the “star” in Alice’s documentary, and how if I don’t
get a boyfriend soon – he would be a good one. Every day our conversations
would end in a single question by him, “Can I have a hug?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I found out just a few months ago, that Larry passed away. A
lot had happened and I was working at a different job by that point. I hadn’t
gotten the chance to visit him in quite awhile. It’s crazy how you could know
someone for a very short time, but they can make a big impact. I am so grateful
I got to meet such a genuine person! <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4ZX1e2fyrEhlmavEhT3ot1A19zUgVQhdTD6aBQf1DWIC_5mFYjGlqwJDaFTeMaJNKPOUVbd11wUL1oDymeTbcHvaNeLDD7Q6VYJk4qZVQwSjhO9O2muR4-r48wkFjx3Qut9V1Gsj_IAw/s1600/IMG_0921.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4ZX1e2fyrEhlmavEhT3ot1A19zUgVQhdTD6aBQf1DWIC_5mFYjGlqwJDaFTeMaJNKPOUVbd11wUL1oDymeTbcHvaNeLDD7Q6VYJk4qZVQwSjhO9O2muR4-r48wkFjx3Qut9V1Gsj_IAw/s320/IMG_0921.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02427933893021813957noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8912489167502428615.post-417535911533625972012-07-06T07:23:00.002-07:002012-07-06T07:25:12.031-07:00A, B, C – easy as … wait which train do we get on?<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Learning the subway system has
proven to be quite a feat. With all the transitions and the constant changes in
the subway stop schedule, it no wonder how newbies can get so lost in the city.
But lucky for me I had just recently purchased the one “cheat sheet” item that
has made my transition to the city a breeze… the iPhone. This particular day, my sister and I were
going to test out how long it takes to get from my apartment in Brooklyn to my
internship in West Village, Manhattan.
After typing in the address of my internship in a subway app on my
iPhone, it gave us step by step walking directions to the nearest subway and
exactly which transitions to make, and which stops to get off at. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
I felt a completely different vibe
of my neighborhood as we walked to the subway stop early that morning. The
trash man greeted us with a tip of his hat and a friendly “good morning”,
strangers would ask us if we needed help if we had a confused look on our face,
and the sounds of Creole being spoken from one neighbor to the next was
intriguing and made me feel as enthusiastic to learn about these people as I do
when visiting another country. Only instead of a 15 hour plane ride I just had
to walk a block out of my apartment. </div>
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After fiddling a bit with the metro
card machine and receiving very agitated answers to our questions from the woman
working behind the glass at the station, Cindy and I hopped onto our train and
headed Uptown. The 45 minute train ride
was a long one, but far from boring. At one point I looked up at the artwork
placed above the seats and saw a picture representing everyday New Yorkers
riding a subway. Sitting side by side in the picture were tourists, punk rock
kids with short spiky hair, Europeans, Asians, Latin Americans, street
performers, business men and women, and hipsters drowning out the ride with their
iPods. When my eyes fell down from the
picture and onto the seats in front of me, I amusingly found the group of
people not to be very far off from that portrait portrayal. Cindy and I played
a game of how many languages being spoken on the train we could name. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI8Nir_yaj94Ax4jcLyWse3n6WNPd94Bm-B0wH4YfnztmkCGUCgmJI1GdGL2Ml8YMy-O6ORKDTUKBBnXJXIV6F-09HyEA6aVjJjhjwRSkYKxsywt8h09VcOctOWJTxOlfp_7B64kq0mSc/s1600/IMG_0431.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI8Nir_yaj94Ax4jcLyWse3n6WNPd94Bm-B0wH4YfnztmkCGUCgmJI1GdGL2Ml8YMy-O6ORKDTUKBBnXJXIV6F-09HyEA6aVjJjhjwRSkYKxsywt8h09VcOctOWJTxOlfp_7B64kq0mSc/s320/IMG_0431.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Artwork in the subway</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrYIPGibPsSotFWrclVbMcseGyVNaACVtgELTO88IUb1F0WUl08qDZ9ZmkD4Ym3HR20611nvSDF2UyxikDhTMLi5zx0M_09KIyPwRLQjiL_qCRiXJI6CFo3xZCQWsjoq5owJDx1RWnzqI/s1600/IMG_0433.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrYIPGibPsSotFWrclVbMcseGyVNaACVtgELTO88IUb1F0WUl08qDZ9ZmkD4Ym3HR20611nvSDF2UyxikDhTMLi5zx0M_09KIyPwRLQjiL_qCRiXJI6CFo3xZCQWsjoq5owJDx1RWnzqI/s320/IMG_0433.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cindy and subway riders dozing off </td></tr>
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<br /></div>
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When we got off the train and
stepped into West Village, I instantly fell in love. Instead of daunting
skyscrapers and fast-paced crowds, my eyes gazed upon a village of cute
restaurants and tree lined roads leading us straight to the antique railing on
the steps of my internship. I was quite alright with the realization that most
of my time would be spent in this part of the city. I asked myself why I didn’t
try to find a place to live around here, and was quickly answered by the “For
Rent” sign on an apartment nearby with one too many zeros after 2’s and 3’s for
monthly rent. </div>
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After getting to know the area
quite well, Cindy and I met up with a friend for lunch in Time Square. We had
seen time square from one angle the day before, and were surprisingly
unimpressed. It was just a building with ads. However, after being directed to
the CORRECT side, I found myself wanting to spin in circles to take in the
whole site. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Time Square</td></tr>
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In a large area made just for pedestrians, I spotted various people
dressed in Disney costumes, Statues of Liberty characters, and street
performers dotting the huge group of tourists snapping pictures like their life
depended on it. We walked farther and a door of a building opened slightly
revealing a glimpse of a giant Ferris wheel. I looked up to see the sign “Toys
R Us” and Cindy and I raced through the revolving doors to witness the mini
amusement park inside, complete with a giant Ferris wheel.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Outside</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsNiRXrCjQdqsvtBjaLyzPAUYUO6OiEZNmnO9FsZC4mzE-BFWo0MMsqoN2ync2mgVjdAWDO6fqoSioZld7PMBicCi76cxkaZLAKtA813wLhYZz3sRi4kapATMWl9cUpRXy7olJiTGxPxQ/s1600/1SDC19530.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsNiRXrCjQdqsvtBjaLyzPAUYUO6OiEZNmnO9FsZC4mzE-BFWo0MMsqoN2ync2mgVjdAWDO6fqoSioZld7PMBicCi76cxkaZLAKtA813wLhYZz3sRi4kapATMWl9cUpRXy7olJiTGxPxQ/s320/1SDC19530.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Inside</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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From door to door, we “revolved” into the most
interested places including a giant lego store, candy bar, and the infamous
Rockefeller building. After a tour
through NBC studios and a much needed iced-coffee energy boost, Cindy and I groggily
took the subway back home. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Picking our feet up one after
another up the outside stairs to my apartment proved to be torturous on our
sore calves. I fumbled tiredly with the
keys, and was briefly distracted by a group of girls coming around the corner yelling loudly and
playing. Or so I thought, until I felt a nudge from Cindy to hurry up. As the
group got closer I began realizing what I thought was playful banter was
actually obscene threats. A fight was about to break out right on the corner.
Cindy and I hustled inside and bolted the door behind us. Once safely away,
instead of turning on the TV we sat in the living room with the perfect view to
our very own “Real World: Brooklyn”.
Sitting with our knees pulled up to our chests and occasionally pulling
back the blinds to get a better view, I mentioned to Cindy that those girls had
to be no more than 14 years old. She looked at me and replied, “Yea, but Annie
- they could probably beat up our dad.”</div>Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02427933893021813957noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8912489167502428615.post-44391142497976429142012-07-06T07:12:00.001-07:002012-07-06T07:13:04.492-07:00The Amazon to the Big Apple<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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From living in the Brazilian Amazon
to moving to New York City, I was told I would experience a true
jungle-to-jungle lifestyle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the 3
short days since I moved in, hiking through the Amazon seems like a walk in the
park in comparison to the hustle and bustle of this city. The journey from
Tampa to New York may have only been a 19 hour car ride, but I feel as if I am
in a foreign country halfway across the world. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With wide eyes, a racing heart, and aching
feet, I have tried not to blink for fear of missing out on seeing so many new
things. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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Three days ago, my hands were
tightly gripped on the wheel as we were approaching the city. My eyes wanted to
wander to take in everything as we turned on the first road in Brooklyn, but I
had something more vital to focus on. I was getting my first taste of New York
driving and was quickly learning how to weave in and out of cars double parks,
pedestrians running across the road, and impatient honkers behind me. At every
stop light I took advantage of the break from road concentration and was
surprised to see such an eclectic amalgam of cultures represented amongst the pedestrians.</div>
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The most prominent group in that
particular area was a Jewish community. Women walked across the streets in long
black skirts and men proudly marched in their black suits and top hats, with
short haircuts, except for the two curly strands of hair falling from either
side of their hats. Cindy tried to point out the hair style to me, but for lack
of better word – referred to the men’s curls as “doodly-doos”. I loved seeing
the little boys walking around in their miniature suits, and miniature
“doodle-doo” hairstyle. </div>
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A honk startled me out of my
cultural fascination and it was back to the real world of driving in the city. I
felt as if I was in a Mario kart game, if only I could have just power boost my
way through the traffic. It took almost 20 minutes to get 4 miles from the
interstate to my new apartment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As we
drove closer to my street, the buildings began gradually jading.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The supermarkets transformed into small
corner grocery stores with handwritten signs in the windows stating “We accept
Food Stamps”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A woman on the sidewalk
distracted us with her flailing arms in some sort of confrontation with
presumably her husband. Her eyes were bugged out as she shouted loud
profanities which we could hear clearly despite our closed windows. When my GPS
finally announced “I had arrived at my destination”, I looked to the left and met
the gaze of a group of hoodlums in wife beaters and flat bill caps, chilling on
my apartment steps. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I suddenly regretted
not bringing along my Bon Qui Qui Halloween outfit so I wouldn’t stick out so
much. </div>
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As I pulled my luggage up the steps
with the help of my parents, I was greeted by silent stares from my new
neighbors. I felt overwhelmingly unwelcome, until I spotted my new roommate
leaning out of the window waving down with a warm smile on her face. Once
behind the bolted door, I was pleasantly surprised to find a beautiful apartment with a room
bigger than I had imagined. My roommates were
incredibly friendly and I liked them immediately.
One from Brooklyn and the other from Trinidad, they informed me that the
majority of people in this part of town are from Trinidad and Haiti. They told
me it was a safe place to live as long as I don’t get stuck in the wrong part
of town at the wrong hour of the night. They also warned me to be aware that my
16-year-old face and Southern mannerisms (meaning smiling) definitely make me
stick out, not only in this part of town – but in every part of the city. I was
going to have a lot to learn. </div>
Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02427933893021813957noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8912489167502428615.post-40313224107819429732012-06-12T14:43:00.001-07:002012-06-12T14:54:34.132-07:00My Top 10 Favorite Shows from Bonnaroo 2012<br />
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<u>10. Trampled By Turtles/Two Door Cinema Club</u></div>
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At a tie for 10<sup>th</sup>, I thought Trampled By Turtles
and Two Door Cinema Club were equally incredible… although very different
genres.</div>
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We walked up to Trampled By Turtles a little late, but got
there just in time to see the front crowd in a full on hoedown. The best way I
can describe their music style is a modern day blue grass, and that fiddle and
banjo combo will get your feet moving. At times the beat goes so fast, you
could hardly see their hands strumming. This band is from Minnesota, but they
have been traveling everywhere and will be playing at Lollapolooza in August! </div>
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I had never heard of Two Door Cinema Club before, but
decided to check them out at a friend’s suggestion. We sat pretty far back, but
as soon as the band started playing their first song our eyes widened at the
impact they had on the crowd. We had to move as close as we could before they
ended their set. My favorite song by them had to be “Something Good Can Work”.
It was incredible live and is one of those songs you could blast in your car
and find yourself using your steering wheel as a drum set. </div>
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<u>9. The Alabama Shakes</u></div>
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Playing on Thursday night, this was the first band we saw…
and what a way to start off the Bonnaroo experience. This band is such a unique
mix of music style of rock and soul, but what really hooked me was the band’s
look. From a pretty far distance back, I imagined the lead singer to be your
everyday male rocker with skinny jeans and long hair. Imagine my surprise when
the crowd parted and I see a younger Diana Ross look-a-like with a curly afro
and glasses absolutely rocking out on her electric guitar. Wearing a flowery
shirt and pink pants, she didn’t care at all to change her look to be the lead
singer of a rock band. And with a voice like that, she quite simply didn’t need
to. </div>
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<u>8. Temper Trap</u></div>
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I knew this band from their hit “Sweet Disposition”, which I
had heard on a Chrysler commercial back in the day. The electric guitarist in
this band was so entertaining to watch. Wearing a beret and crazy printed
shirt, he was getting so into the music he would sway back and forth whipping
his long blonde hair all around. But the
real draw of this band was the lead singer’s incredible voice. He could so
effortlessly hit some of the highest notes that at times I would confuse his
voice for the melodic synthesizer, it was that flawless. </div>
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<u>7. Childish Gambino</u></div>
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It was a very last minute decision to see this rapper, but
he made a lasting impression. He apparently is also an actor from the show
“Community” and his comedy act and acting expressions gives him the edge over
so many other rappers I have seen perform live. His lyrics are all written in
clever wit, and his “Childish” face is so entertaining to watch as his eyes get
really big and excited as the lyrics start going faster, I couldn’t help but
compare him to a grown up “Lil P-Nut”. </div>
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<u>6. The Stooges</u></div>
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While we were strolling through Centeroo taking a break from
the concerts, we see in the distance a crowd of people coming towards us. A
brass band blasted by us and a good crowd of people began following them,
including us, as we all paraded through the grounds. The band finally stopped
in the middle of the vendor stands and started jamming out some Jackson 5 and
everyone was dancing right in the middle of it all. Little did I know this was
an actual band from New Orleans called “The Stooges” that had apparently played
earlier in the day. The fact that this band was so pumped to make sure as many
people as possible had a good time listening to their music that they took the
show outside of the stage well after their concert won me over. </div>
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<u>5. The Joy Formidable</u></div>
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Having not heard a single song of theirs before, I told
myself I was going to download their whole album after this concert was over.
This band is from England, and their main singer was a 5 foot girl with short
blonde hair wearing a dress and a punk rock attitude. Every single one of their
songs had such an intense guitar section that blasted through the speakers and
pumped up the crowd. During their last
song, the guitar player started jamming out and slid down to his knees to play,
then he jumped up and grabbed the drum sticks which he started chucking every
which direction. To make up for the lost drum sticks, the lead singer started
using her own guitar to hit the symbols on the drums. The energy in the tent
was unheard of as the band finished their final note and threw their guitars to
the back of the stage letting them crash on some speakers and walked off. </div>
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<u>4. Foster The People/Silent Disco</u></div>
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Mark Foster is a born entertainer. With a stage set-up
looking like something out of “Legends from the Hidden Temples” the lights, the
music, and the energy of Mark Foster all combined made it impossible to tear
your eyes away from the big screen. I came into this concert only having heard
“Pumped Up Kicks” and came out of it with at least 5 new favorite songs. Every
single one of their songs has such a catchy upbeat melody it is hard to not
want to put them on repeat. Even though Pumped Up Kicks was an incredible song
live, with Mark Foster jumping off the stage and into the crowd, the best song
in my opinion was one called Houdini. </div>
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But the show was far from over, later that night we got word
that the silent disco was being DJ’d by Mark Foster himself. After waiting in
line for a stunning 2 ½ hours, we got an up close and personal experience with
only 300 people on the dance floor dancing like crazy to music that could only
be heard by them. After his time at the
disco ended, Mark Foster ran over to another small stage by the fountain to
play along with a band I had never heard of. He went from one thing to a next
energized by the music and the crowds. </div>
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<u>3. Skrillex</u></div>
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If you had told me a few weeks ago that I would be in the
pit, front and center of a Dub Step concert I probably would have laughed. I
had always thought of Dub Step as more of a headache than music, but that just
goes to show you can’t write anything off until you experience it for yourself.
The Skrillex show was one of the most incredible performances; every single
person in the crowd was dancing. Before Skrillex even came on stage, the energy
was sky high. As we walked into the pit area, we found ourselves being pushed
by a crowd trying to squeeze into the tiny passage way that led to the front
rows. The security guards were screaming at everyone to put their hands up so
they could check our wristbands. We struggled through and found ourselves maybe
3 rows back from the empty stage with a giant space ship. Then a countdown
began, and out from behind the space ship comes out Skrillex. The crowd was
screaming as he climbed into his ship, the lights all on him, and then he
played his first beat. With that one beat my breath was literally taken away.
The hairs on my arms and top of my head were vibrating, my teeth were
chattering with the vibration, and the impact of the bass knocked my breath
away. My friend Linda and I just looked at each other with wide eyes wondering
what was about to come next, and were answered with a show that was so high
energy and intense, we never knew where Skrillex would take it next. As he
would build up the momentum, the crowd calmer at first, but as the beat grew
gradually faster and faster, until finally Skrillex turned it up to maximum
volume. At that moment the crowd would throw thousands of glow sticks into the
air which would fall back down and look like little fireworks exploded right
over the crowds heads. After the concert was over Linda and I walked back to
the campsite so energized, and so very deaf. We had to scream to one another
even though we were standing right next to each other, but no worries after a
couple hours – the ringing stopped and our hearing came back. </div>
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<u>2.Dispatch</u></div>
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Even though hadn’t played live or come out with a new album
for years, but their songs had withstood the test of time because everyone in
the crowd was singing at the top of their lungs. And even if you had never
heard a single Dispatch song before, it was so easy to learn as you go and sing
right along. During the song “Elias” I was even surprised to hear how many
people in the crowd knew the words to the introduction, which is in a different
language. Then as the song hit the chorus everyone held up their hand and
reached out to the stage. But my favorite song they performed live had to be
Flying Horses, which got everyone dancing. </div>
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<u>1. Fun.</u></div>
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In my opinion, there was absolutely no question that Fun. was
the best concert of Bonnaroo. For a band that is fairly new, with only one hit
on the radio, the fact that most of the audience was singing along to every
single song says a lot. I just heard of Fun. a couple months ago, and after
curiously youtubing a couple of their songs, I couldn’t find one that I wasn’t
absolutely obsessed with. The lead
singer’s voice has such a unique sound, and even his normal talking voice was
unique. I have a feeling this was his first concert in front of that many
people, because you could tell he was so humbled by the crowd’s enthusiasm. At
one point in a song he stopped the music for dramatic effect, and the crowd
started cheering so loud he had a hard time starting the song again because he
just could not stop smiling. Of course a huge crowd favorite was when he
started singing “We Are Young”, and at least 15 people started crowd surfing at
various parts of that song. It was so hysterically ironic that as the crowd was
singing the lyrics “I’ll carry you home tonight” they security guards were literally
carrying crowd surfers out of the stage area. I honestly cannot pick a favorite
song that they performed because every single one of them was incredible, but
if I had to pick one that made the biggest impression… it had to be the band’s
encore. Yes, Fun. was the only band I had seen during the entire festival that
received a chanting encore which brought them back out for one more song. They performed a cover of the Rolling Stones
“You Can’t Always Get What You Want” and the audience went crazy. It would not
surprise me in the least bit if by next Bonnaroo, Fun. will be a headliner. </div>
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<br /></div>Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02427933893021813957noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8912489167502428615.post-74869291724344932532012-06-12T14:28:00.000-07:002012-06-13T13:24:20.063-07:00The Bonnaroo Experience<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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We pulled the car into our camp
spot and I peered out the window through the hundreds of tents, trees, and cars
lining my view - trying to get a grasp on what Bonnaroo was about to be like. As
I hopped out of the car I had to jump aside quickly as I realized I had walked
right in front of a moving golf cart. There was no angry honking, however. Instead
as the cart cruised by, the man sitting in the back with long black hair and aviator
sunglasses smiled and gave me the peace sign. At that moment I knew I was going
to like it here just fine. </div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRoiNrWErBghvUIVZdguIYHKm8N4dOiKqao8VeOUvUsHdokvbCwMUq31oEamxg3VZGVdPPvvuk68iomKaFX6Vqhyphenhyphen_MEplZMqxF3arqhpuOf-Uow86C4lGoPWmKo8x8YF84Ua3wG_kFXz4/s1600/1SDC19457.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRoiNrWErBghvUIVZdguIYHKm8N4dOiKqao8VeOUvUsHdokvbCwMUq31oEamxg3VZGVdPPvvuk68iomKaFX6Vqhyphenhyphen_MEplZMqxF3arqhpuOf-Uow86C4lGoPWmKo8x8YF84Ua3wG_kFXz4/s320/1SDC19457.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our campsite</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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How did
I get to go to Bonnaroo? Well my friend Linda works for a news station in
Knoxville that was covering the event, and I got to be her plus one! </div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYzwoyGfJ8e5ZUXfBF7D6LlD3Q2zBNnPsJ9ywV88HX6enpP7i-kb__NvXXvs4xuCeWj1G9VZ-KmPg6865-kkTeAqkFujNpM0kPNbT2fcx9rFX_1n_Zyy3X0cjTQrknixpfoig__zaaBZc/s1600/IMG_0058.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYzwoyGfJ8e5ZUXfBF7D6LlD3Q2zBNnPsJ9ywV88HX6enpP7i-kb__NvXXvs4xuCeWj1G9VZ-KmPg6865-kkTeAqkFujNpM0kPNbT2fcx9rFX_1n_Zyy3X0cjTQrknixpfoig__zaaBZc/s320/IMG_0058.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sam shooting some interviews for News Channel 6</td></tr>
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This was incredible for so many reasons. The first reason
was of course the free ticket, the second reason was the amazing company of my
friend and her reporter Sam, and the third reason was the fact that our press
pass tickets allowed us so many amazing benefits. Not only was our camp site
right next to the main Bonnaroo grounds and stages, but the press pass also
allowed us into the press tent area. In this area they had free water, plugs
for your phones, and a tent where band members would come to be interviewed. The press interviews were open to all who had
a pass, so it was during one of these interviews that I got to meet the actress
Kristin Bell! </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-AkqE_9oZGZvyUMwvvX4-_GmJmXrsGe-6Tm6a6RUKj9MS2Rh7UXNpS-keb7zh5v1lkxtKIH32fAXtSwCaaX8hfNDLWKLss2F8gZTT7JH1tFBNydxfIbJH3boIAe7TgzOktDFnhj6bPqw/s1600/1SDC19473.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-AkqE_9oZGZvyUMwvvX4-_GmJmXrsGe-6Tm6a6RUKj9MS2Rh7UXNpS-keb7zh5v1lkxtKIH32fAXtSwCaaX8hfNDLWKLss2F8gZTT7JH1tFBNydxfIbJH3boIAe7TgzOktDFnhj6bPqw/s320/1SDC19473.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kristin Bell at Press Tent</td></tr>
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Kristin
was there to promote her new movie, which was being shown in the cinema tent of
Bonnaroo. I had never actually met a famous person before, so right before I
tapped her on the shoulder to ask for a picture, I realized how badly my hands
were shaking! After we took the picture she asked me what my name was. I
nervously said “Annie” and then told her that I loved her sloth video. As soon
as the words left my lips I instantly felt regret. I had seen a video of her on
the Ellen show where she cries after her husband gives her a pet sloth. But why
I thought she would know what I was talking about when all I said was “your
sloth video” was beyond me. After a brief look of confusion, she thankfully started
laughing. Either she realized what I was referring to, or she was just that
nice to pretend like she did! </div>
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But
besides all the incredible bands at Bonnaroo, one of the coolest things about
the whole festival was the community they built right there in the Manchester
farms. One morning while Linda and Sam got up early to do some interviews, I decided
to explore the area of “Centeroo” as they call it. The first thing I stumbled
upon was a morning yoga session. Hundreds of people were laying in the grass
following the yoga instructions of the person on the stage. It was very
relaxing just to be able to stretch out on the soft grass. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhow_rCRD426ziAKRycrKe4oTRXjxpoOogFvprx7az_1Ccghr5JkjRNHP-2839bq_lG8X4Bxz6mGHOuJMUYRlc9DsVjC2z9LqZ12FC_uUzHm6D7-O0k74Ri6SbeCfXoeteUm8COuffKzsw/s1600/IMG_0096.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhow_rCRD426ziAKRycrKe4oTRXjxpoOogFvprx7az_1Ccghr5JkjRNHP-2839bq_lG8X4Bxz6mGHOuJMUYRlc9DsVjC2z9LqZ12FC_uUzHm6D7-O0k74Ri6SbeCfXoeteUm8COuffKzsw/s320/IMG_0096.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Then I
walked over to the rows of food stands by the ferris wheel. There was not a
Subway or McDonald’s in sight. All of the food stands there were owned by
private businesses or families, and there were so many healthy choices to
choose from. </div>
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Just a
little further down from the food stands was this tent with 5 or 6 gongs
forming a circle. People would sit inside the circle and the owners of the tent
would start lightly banding on the gongs. Apparently this was a form of
meditation and relaxation. </div>
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Since
Linda and Sam had a hotel in Murfreesboro, we ended up spending our nights
there. We always meant to camp, but by 2 or 3 in the morning a shower and a bed
sounded too good to pass up. It ended up being a good thing because the showers
in Bonnaroo cost $7 per shower, and the lines are always ridiculously long. By
the end of Bonnaroo people even resort to washing off in the fountain in
Centeroo.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQIhbWj4rXVockEcF0x3BOCPez0xJotmbu_m_A2e1nxWcKW3jEAltLskeK0iSbvDp7dz_gWhQE7zRLrSDSo5j1fSTrBdqe3FbsOIIYwNPvR2CwNurYELJgRjf0ijHWPYOJ-6eiMxS_WCM/s1600/IMG_0141.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQIhbWj4rXVockEcF0x3BOCPez0xJotmbu_m_A2e1nxWcKW3jEAltLskeK0iSbvDp7dz_gWhQE7zRLrSDSo5j1fSTrBdqe3FbsOIIYwNPvR2CwNurYELJgRjf0ijHWPYOJ-6eiMxS_WCM/s320/IMG_0141.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Washing off the Bonnaroo dirt!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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The “people-watching” had to be the
most entertaining thing about Bonnaroo. Most were dressed according to the
weather… bathing suits, shorts, and tank tops. But every now and then you would
catch someone dressed in a crazy get-up. We saw everything from Gumby costumes,
to Where’s Waldos, to fairies and dragons. The most entertaining costume we saw
was a guy who had falling asleep by a tree wearing a unicorn mask. So many
people would stop to pose with him in a picture. I wonder if he even noticed. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0Ua1D8iLe49DmSxmHz-502hyYSZnube-0NE7W_s77xT_BNYYk47JEXFZ8Ocd9Kq-91lsdUA1f-MsdsY70r_2orwwR6q-SPnsMQoWVVSFp_3ld51jMBizxwk03evFfJWP470sEHfoR_d8/s1600/IMG_0178.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0Ua1D8iLe49DmSxmHz-502hyYSZnube-0NE7W_s77xT_BNYYk47JEXFZ8Ocd9Kq-91lsdUA1f-MsdsY70r_2orwwR6q-SPnsMQoWVVSFp_3ld51jMBizxwk03evFfJWP470sEHfoR_d8/s320/IMG_0178.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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The people at Bonnaroo were some of
the most interesting and friendly people I have ever met. It was so easy to
walk around and make 10 new friends from all over the country, and even some
from abroad. One morning I decided to go around and ask random people where
they were from and who they were most excited to see play. With the level of
friendliness at Bonnaroo, most of the people actually came up to me! I talked
to quite a few people who had driven 19 hours or more from Boston, New York,
and Philadelphia just to see this music festival. With some of these people
suggestions, I discovered some amazing bands I had never heard of before. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTzq-IwDoNqF11osI5qHfHgbOLt_GhteU24mHUGAaHlH7A6vDHyFpjcHGkI11kjBrYzf1Roefi3HfjjtlVT8jHxm6b7PHlxZAod-zDdk_j-GFpKmkvLYBtBBULOXjRi9qCJFxFrNbJMB0/s1600/IMG_0082.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTzq-IwDoNqF11osI5qHfHgbOLt_GhteU24mHUGAaHlH7A6vDHyFpjcHGkI11kjBrYzf1Roefi3HfjjtlVT8jHxm6b7PHlxZAod-zDdk_j-GFpKmkvLYBtBBULOXjRi9qCJFxFrNbJMB0/s320/IMG_0082.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>Bob</b></div>
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<b>Rochester,
NY</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u5CVsCnxyXg"><b>Radiohead “No Surprises”</b></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghHFeUw3J00xy1Q0zHZXWfwtL0uJuwQCl6w8QJ1cxkSbQj1mLJpbeSH-Tn_DXRYRceiAGugMGQ7p15C2mxB5-Xr1imLOEwB6pl0CjQTI4FJTo4s0oa1di7-i5mNc6huEvHrP_0bKomRGQ/s1600/IMG_0083.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghHFeUw3J00xy1Q0zHZXWfwtL0uJuwQCl6w8QJ1cxkSbQj1mLJpbeSH-Tn_DXRYRceiAGugMGQ7p15C2mxB5-Xr1imLOEwB6pl0CjQTI4FJTo4s0oa1di7-i5mNc6huEvHrP_0bKomRGQ/s320/IMG_0083.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>Erik</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>Rochester,
NY</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=efcKk6wf8ps"><b>Phish “Yem”</b></a>
</div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZWHPEJIeOF8OdkH0wBAGKJ3l-IFV1XTsGVMOTHZGZloBxhrV6NWeidX1ErX2_arR7S-DnGjiItF00OxzEZGsTr4ol0IslJXC45FkbjI_eUIuyMnWs7otTz20QSJwKJcx9pewVEKWgs4I/s1600/IMG_0084.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZWHPEJIeOF8OdkH0wBAGKJ3l-IFV1XTsGVMOTHZGZloBxhrV6NWeidX1ErX2_arR7S-DnGjiItF00OxzEZGsTr4ol0IslJXC45FkbjI_eUIuyMnWs7otTz20QSJwKJcx9pewVEKWgs4I/s320/IMG_0084.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>DJ</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>Brooklyn, NY
</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NCq7_cpJQUM"><b>Radiohead “Jigsaw Fall Into Place”</b></a></div>
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</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVy14pqXggsdMV09mCfvc5UlWsR6T2XUt_6-PWhwrRocE7q73IJHTW7PELoKlUiYUQKqHRX3eveU1bcJZqmgVbGbCX-Jgck5uv95Oa_ubV8SFTR3xF5wjfXxW8IIJD514a2RMYmph7q6M/s1600/IMG_0086.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVy14pqXggsdMV09mCfvc5UlWsR6T2XUt_6-PWhwrRocE7q73IJHTW7PELoKlUiYUQKqHRX3eveU1bcJZqmgVbGbCX-Jgck5uv95Oa_ubV8SFTR3xF5wjfXxW8IIJD514a2RMYmph7q6M/s320/IMG_0086.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>Nick</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>Philadelphia
</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8N-IXJHiFm8&list=AL94UKMTqg-9CULiIFmDpF64kW9uAHfJG_&index=1&feature=plcp"><b>Flying Lotus“Massage Situation”</b></a></div>
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<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9mo4XjAyhrhhARx4oY_LjS2_rz_9PvCw-lEJXGNFxHP2V_CdBbpCoTQLN23cf3dniG5xSbxm7-ceEZhhZW30vkh0bsz1_vPF38gMESbBWOymYBmFa8jZ1mlSe5CUSSDgtb9ipw06hy2I/s1600/IMG_0087.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9mo4XjAyhrhhARx4oY_LjS2_rz_9PvCw-lEJXGNFxHP2V_CdBbpCoTQLN23cf3dniG5xSbxm7-ceEZhhZW30vkh0bsz1_vPF38gMESbBWOymYBmFa8jZ1mlSe5CUSSDgtb9ipw06hy2I/s320/IMG_0087.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>Trevor</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>Bowling
Green, KY</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fr6SrRQnZv4&list=AL94UKMTqg-9Dq5KcIInoTS1yjdfEVpVWZ&index=4&feature=plcp"><b>Black Star “Redefinition”</b></a>
</div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5S0AP1lyNFLrOGzfo5YNqCKtIzI34ZgBrSw-sgDTHXVksOBq-76LL9bVn5QZE3IMMQQOEyDmReuOEY7chYTzt_UG_0fcEFE5SdXT_08QrGmg1R14r99i3unO6_RV35HPeGrkM6NODQUk/s1600/IMG_0088.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5S0AP1lyNFLrOGzfo5YNqCKtIzI34ZgBrSw-sgDTHXVksOBq-76LL9bVn5QZE3IMMQQOEyDmReuOEY7chYTzt_UG_0fcEFE5SdXT_08QrGmg1R14r99i3unO6_RV35HPeGrkM6NODQUk/s320/IMG_0088.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>Becca</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>Boston, MA</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=otPxoVQiIGo"><b>ChildishGambino “Freaks and Geeks” </b></a></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy_2Oy55YIUGOzk8rYQytRFFmMDr42awoUaDiVryicn7FiTjnVfWmmZS95PV4TQn2Qt9ykgJw-_ew11NlA7VS_kgOhWncXTq9t9yffa6JDS0w9-Oi78XRiba0Zp1ANlHljGbHXYTemVNg/s1600/IMG_0089.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy_2Oy55YIUGOzk8rYQytRFFmMDr42awoUaDiVryicn7FiTjnVfWmmZS95PV4TQn2Qt9ykgJw-_ew11NlA7VS_kgOhWncXTq9t9yffa6JDS0w9-Oi78XRiba0Zp1ANlHljGbHXYTemVNg/s320/IMG_0089.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>Cassie</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>Boston, MA</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mzJj5-lubeM"><b>Red HotChilli Peppers “Scar Tissue”</b></a></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSccSoYVfaO_-sMzXWp_c1_CQaqUB_-fMHeHDeUrab5GvyOdCfqH6Eh5dk3UYDUL4naQv0040MU-dsGVLdsUALxJYEYCSrTTUtAxQp160WRAsZN-MjioHh5w4ntfzI_0No8hoVKZe-vpc/s1600/IMG_0093.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSccSoYVfaO_-sMzXWp_c1_CQaqUB_-fMHeHDeUrab5GvyOdCfqH6Eh5dk3UYDUL4naQv0040MU-dsGVLdsUALxJYEYCSrTTUtAxQp160WRAsZN-MjioHh5w4ntfzI_0No8hoVKZe-vpc/s320/IMG_0093.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>Alvaro</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>New Jersey </b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uxJncigqdGk"><b>Red HotChili Peppers “Brendan’s Death Song”</b></a></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNxSNwE3QdRHQCHPLiYI0B66ecbbVa0kuKP66GsXmAong7JbBZQVtbrc6hS09tGwAHQk3m-1LhSJIFCIRH1dYn6jkUOioqBI9nhP2GlsWrgknJKIGHAcnxDvrW9OrCinGmF4yTGnILkg0/s1600/IMG_0098.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNxSNwE3QdRHQCHPLiYI0B66ecbbVa0kuKP66GsXmAong7JbBZQVtbrc6hS09tGwAHQk3m-1LhSJIFCIRH1dYn6jkUOioqBI9nhP2GlsWrgknJKIGHAcnxDvrW9OrCinGmF4yTGnILkg0/s320/IMG_0098.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>Billy </b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>New York</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-oCPAO3bp4Q"><b>Bon Iver “Holocene”</b></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5dNSIASSp0HH8IPD7TZlU47ra8MEaxt4AZRUdWUde8wwSJmhyphenhyphenstIPJNTSZLFieLhZs-iKTU3eXw0viBi6VeNrdPXkFQz0lOavTQLjHKRDq6EfMp9h631wX0Ca-Rj2wBiNA58iFphRFNg/s1600/IMG_0100.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5dNSIASSp0HH8IPD7TZlU47ra8MEaxt4AZRUdWUde8wwSJmhyphenhyphenstIPJNTSZLFieLhZs-iKTU3eXw0viBi6VeNrdPXkFQz0lOavTQLjHKRDq6EfMp9h631wX0Ca-Rj2wBiNA58iFphRFNg/s320/IMG_0100.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>Jared</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>New York</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yMuuc_pqx2s"><b>Temper Trap “LoveLost”</b></a></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhLa_W_oGei5A_yh-M9qVdlgP6L2_CNLgM38K7WG__IbyyU3ygHC22yBm0AHds2hcLJEQX8slaXXNSNn9n5PKXJA32oPC4RprdEHzkZu5gvHxIlQ7n3bcg2T3zhGhi99T6eIhdiEIyvOE/s1600/IMG_0142.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhLa_W_oGei5A_yh-M9qVdlgP6L2_CNLgM38K7WG__IbyyU3ygHC22yBm0AHds2hcLJEQX8slaXXNSNn9n5PKXJA32oPC4RprdEHzkZu5gvHxIlQ7n3bcg2T3zhGhi99T6eIhdiEIyvOE/s320/IMG_0142.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>Bethyn</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>North
Carolina</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DgeKRbmUBns"><b>Radiohead “MixMyxomatosis”</b></a> </div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4Wev6zVc70AA7-M3R-nctoILq8Q8fTv6EYUi_gPBPC1iN4t1NDZiWkMxy7niU7UHopr5kCRuqI-qcfU9TMqcgcJTBQaC_VjstdafbH4lmEAFfqSAQEc0rnvHO_Tn9XLexkCTCThsDOvM/s1600/IMG_0143.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4Wev6zVc70AA7-M3R-nctoILq8Q8fTv6EYUi_gPBPC1iN4t1NDZiWkMxy7niU7UHopr5kCRuqI-qcfU9TMqcgcJTBQaC_VjstdafbH4lmEAFfqSAQEc0rnvHO_Tn9XLexkCTCThsDOvM/s320/IMG_0143.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>Stacy</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>North Carolina</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Adeq5AzcPv4"><b>Dispatch “Hey Hey”</b></a></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02427933893021813957noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8912489167502428615.post-40304666049945869412012-04-20T16:58:00.004-07:002012-04-20T16:59:31.979-07:00Camping in the Rainforest - Day 4 & 5<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The town of Carrezero is unique. As our boat was approaching
the riverside community, I realized I had never seen anything quite like this
place. The houses were lined up side by side, safely situated above the water
by four wooden poles being used as stilts for each house. As our boat floated by, house after house
after house came into view, a half-a-mile stretch of wooden houses. But as we
got closer I realized not all were houses – some were
stores, others churches, still others bars, and at the end of the stretch was a
large school. What we were approaching was a community created right on the
border line between the Amazon River and the rainforest, and it was all
connected by one long bridge. And as for
transportation, besides the bridge, everyone traveled by boat or canoe. </span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtprlbW4z8010OwAYmnkIkXaUTXgjKoHl3A4C27j6ibTmokDKfQjk1Ir8MtyAlRxivmcYRuYRO47_zV855X_n6AzbYfq3qWmuXU8JSlms9i0y-vyYk7yH6XD_rC-5sB823DPWoeOig6Nc/s1600/IMG_5855.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtprlbW4z8010OwAYmnkIkXaUTXgjKoHl3A4C27j6ibTmokDKfQjk1Ir8MtyAlRxivmcYRuYRO47_zV855X_n6AzbYfq3qWmuXU8JSlms9i0y-vyYk7yH6XD_rC-5sB823DPWoeOig6Nc/s320/IMG_5855.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The riverside town of Carrezero</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I had a feeling a town as unique as this would provide a
unique experience for us. What I didn’t realize at the time was that each
curious resident of Carrezero was thinking the same thing as our boat full of
foreigners approached. As for their unique experience, I did not let them down.
Only two hours later I found myself trapped on the dock with my camera in the
middle of a timelapse, and a downpour quickly approaching. I only had a couple more minutes left until
my timelapse finished, as I held a little umbrella over my camera and
unsuccessfully tried to cover my back with a blanket that was only getting more
soaked by the minute. The people of Carrezero found the sight humorous. </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhye1VhtGlpbZuJKZ9XRKB7M-YJjqtxYuynHCzyY4_CLz-Uu9RZSdOM1-lo0Ct46LsUVIgOqzmnO3cgei1lv6dI8BBG5VntF3mbwNfgarsavYGMO77e6EhG8kxNIv5qRR4JvIRe9qXUuD0/s1600/430341_3461118017480_1556836881_33021774_348183848_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhye1VhtGlpbZuJKZ9XRKB7M-YJjqtxYuynHCzyY4_CLz-Uu9RZSdOM1-lo0Ct46LsUVIgOqzmnO3cgei1lv6dI8BBG5VntF3mbwNfgarsavYGMO77e6EhG8kxNIv5qRR4JvIRe9qXUuD0/s320/430341_3461118017480_1556836881_33021774_348183848_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Later that night we interviewed a man in the town church. The
sun had gone down quickly, and we found ourselves in the old building with very
little light. The scene was almost eerie, and it didn’t help when the man we
were interviewing began telling us stories about the legend of the Curupira. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The Curupira is a creature that is said to live in the rainforest. Its purpose is to protect nature and the animals
of the forest. It is a placid creature – until people come into the forest with
intent to harm nature or engage in the overkill of animals, to which it
responds with trickery or aggressive behavior.
The Curupira is about the size of a child, and covered with black hair.
Its feet are turned backwards, and it uses its backwards footprints to confuse
people into getting lost in the forest. You know it is nearby when you hear its
shrill whistle. </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0RcdaM8YuzzvhXULsofbIwTyABrvGekeVm1Vwog_PLx8KsqpInd8SLlvxPbB2olNpErLQP9Fry4deDaa0BQ4I91ng4lxroYfB3TSV7tQ1AHkZUykKnEp7CxjdGU7SxgkOAcv3WRuC7NM/s1600/curupira+still.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0RcdaM8YuzzvhXULsofbIwTyABrvGekeVm1Vwog_PLx8KsqpInd8SLlvxPbB2olNpErLQP9Fry4deDaa0BQ4I91ng4lxroYfB3TSV7tQ1AHkZUykKnEp7CxjdGU7SxgkOAcv3WRuC7NM/s320/curupira+still.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Just as the man began telling of his personal encounter with the
Curupira in the forest, the door of the church began to creak and slowly opened.
A shadow the size of a child materialized. We all froze and looked on as the
shadow came closer to the dim light, walking slowly. When the shadow finally
came into the light, we realized it was my mother, tip toeing to the first church
pew so as not to disturb the interview.
After we were done, we all walked back to our boat just as all the
electricity went off. The generator that provides power for the town shut off
precisely at 10 p.m.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">After a night of hearing ghost stories and legends of Amazon
creatures, the events that occurred the next day could be classified as nothing
less than ironic. The archeologists had finally found success discovering
archeological sites in the rainforest, they had stumbled upon three thus far,
and the last discovery would have been the perfect setting for a horror story:
In the middle of the town’s main dirt road leading into the forest, they found
the remains of a person, a human skull thousands of years. And not only that,
the archeologist discovered five more buried vases containing human remains. They
had stumbled upon an ancient burial ground. </span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVC4r9u0pC4-qd-2N8QSRNUFB_ofQ8A4NVITxkRuxucAolEWg2qwCuijivDhRz4Cf2LIS0xzyQie7jVZZW_Z3NTaz3i3vcbxGFXThHowXoKrmTgU8-3NH3mUjOc9Z5HZjI1DNJS3aO0-4/s1600/IMG_5923.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVC4r9u0pC4-qd-2N8QSRNUFB_ofQ8A4NVITxkRuxucAolEWg2qwCuijivDhRz4Cf2LIS0xzyQie7jVZZW_Z3NTaz3i3vcbxGFXThHowXoKrmTgU8-3NH3mUjOc9Z5HZjI1DNJS3aO0-4/s320/IMG_5923.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The ancient skull buried underneath the dirt road</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Unfortunately, I could not stand up long enough to share in
the excitement of this discovery. For some reason, that morning I woke up
feeling like something wasn’t right. That odd feeling gradually grew into a
horrible headache and uncomfortable stomachache. This feeling grew worse by the
hour, and by the time the archeologists had made this discovery, my legs felt
like they were about to give out. Every inch of my body was in pain. I felt as
if my entire body had gone numb, and become stuck in that “pins and needles”
phase, where every little movement hurts. Even the gums of my teeth were
tingling in pain. I stumbled back to the boat and fell into my hammock, not
moving until our boat docked back in Gurupa, ending our five-day “camping”
trip. By that time I had a high fever yet was shivering from a cold sweat in
the middle of the Amazon heat. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I stumbled back to our hotel room, hit the bed, and was out
in a deep sleep. The last thing I remember was my mom talking to my sister on
the phone, and my sister saying I had signs of Danghai fever.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">When I woke up, it was dark. I asked my dad what time it was.
“It is 6 o’clock” … “In the morning?” … “No in the evening”. I had slept for 24
hours. My fever had broken. This ruled
out Danghai fever, which usually lasts for weeks. I must have caught a less
severe tropical fever from one of the children in the interior. Nevertheless, I
felt weak and sore. I used the little strength I had left to pull myself to a
sitting position. I looked at the bruises on my legs, the bug bites all over my
arms and legs, and the seemingly incurable dryness in my throat from
dehydration. I was absolutely spent, driven to the final ends of my strength by
this journey. Yet I was happy to have experienced it – fever, bites and all. </span></div>
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<br /></div>Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02427933893021813957noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8912489167502428615.post-33657281414903662492012-04-17T19:24:00.001-07:002012-09-03T13:50:20.109-07:00Camping in the Rainforest - Day 3<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times","serif";">When we woke up in the boat after the storm, everything was soaked. My mom said that there had been a leak in the roof above her the whole night, and she lifted up her hammock with a huge wet stain on it. I jokingly asked her if it truly was a leak, or she got scared during the night and had an accident. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times","serif";">While everything was laid over the edge of the boat to dry in the sun, I decided to go for a swim in the river. A small boy saw me swimming and ran to jump off the wooden dock, splashing into the water next to me, excited to have someone to play with. I was weary where I put my feet as we waded deeper into the water. The mushy Amazon mud was foreign to me, and I didn’t want to step on anything else foreign that might bite back. My playmate didn’t seem to share this worry; he was splashing and playing and trying to taunt me into racing him. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times","serif";">I swam with him to a giant floating log, happy to grasp onto it and get a short break from swimming. But he had other ideas; he hopped onto the floating log and started walking in place. The log began to spin in the water – the. Soon he began running on the log. As soon as he felt a little off balance, he jumped into the river and resurfaced laughing at the game he created. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times","serif";">He began to climb up the log again, and looked back at me wondering why I wasn’t joining him. He had made it look easy, so I figured I would give it a try. I pulled myself up on the log. Lying on my stomach, it wasn’t hard at all to balance. So now to the next step: I pulled my legs underneath me, and began to slowly stand up. To my surprise, I was balancing. My playmate looked very proud of me, so I decided to test my skills and begin walking in place as he had. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times","serif";">I fell hard, and I fell fast. The only thing that slowed my fall was the impact of my shins smacking against the log before I splashed head first into the river. As I sank down into the mucky water, my legs were throbbing in such pain that I didn’t know if it would be possible to start kicking to get me back to the surface. But at that moment I felt the scales of a huge fish rub against my thigh, and that was plenty of motivation to start kicking. I broke the surface of the water with a gasp and swam slowly back to the dock. As I climbed up I saw bruises already forming. This was a lesson learned the hard way: I can’t do all the things children of the Amazon seem to be able to do. This was disheartening, because I had become inspired by the children’s daily routines and how they play in the forest. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times","serif";">The children of the Amazon truly amaze me. At times I feel as if they have no fear. They wake up every morning and have the entire Amazon rainforest as their playground. I have seen children as young as 5 climbing trees 30 feet in the air, walking around with machetes half their size, wading in river waters known to have piranhas and snakes lurking just below the muddy water.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times","serif";">I believe their lack of fear comes from generations of wisdom passed to them by their parents and grandparents about the dangers of the jungle. And their wisdom to stay away from certain areas of the water, from certain plants, allows them to grow up in one of the most free childhood cultures. Imagine as a child being able to wake up, hop into your own canoe and race your brothers or sisters, or explore various creeks off of the Amazon River. Instead of grabbing a pack of sugar loaded Gushers you just climb the nearest tree and snack on a fresh mango. There is no need for video games to entertain yourself; you can create your own obstacle course over fallen trees and broken branches, all the while chopping a path through the forest with your own machete. Later you could grab some fishing line and a hook and sit with your siblings at the edge of your wooden dock to see who can catch the biggest fish. And as for bathing, your mother only has to tell you once, because you look forward to running off the dock and jumping head first into the river. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times","serif";">Later that day I was again astonished by the children. We were hiking through the jungle on a search for a site the archeologists had found. Three young boys had seen us disappear into the forest, and were curious as to what we were up to. They had begun following us and made a game out of running ahead of us, climbing trees, and running back to show us different tropical fruits. During this hike while I was getting various cuts and scrapes, they were running through the forest without shirts and barefoot. When they would walk in front of me, they’d make sure to turn around and point to different plants to warn me if they were poisonous or caused rashes. I couldn’t believe how much they knew about the forest. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times","serif";">After just 20 minutes of hiking, we were all feeling the wrath of the Amazon sun and the swarms of mosquitos that made it hard to even breathe. Our legs were sore from climbing over overgrown plants. I was looking at my feet wondering how they were continuing to move forward, when a glance up caused me to stop in my tracks. Ahead of me, there was a fallen tree. Under the tree, about eight feet down, was a swamp of dark water, the surface chaotically covered with plants and sharp branches. The only way to get across was to balance on the log and walk over the swamp. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times","serif";">The three boys scampered over the log with ease, laughing all the way. I took a deep breath, very aware of the bruises still on my leg from the last time I tried this, and stepped up onto the uneven log. This time, with an eight-pound camera strapped to my neck, I didn’t test my skills. By some miracle I made it across.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times","serif";">In so many ways I am no match for these amazing children. But I had an incredible time playing with them, and most of all, learning from them. </span></div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen" frameborder="0" height="281" mozallowfullscreen="mozallowfullscreen" src="http://player.vimeo.com/video/46184012" webkitallowfullscreen="webkitallowfullscreen" width="500"></iframe> <br />
<a href="http://vimeo.com/46184012">Through My Lens</a> from <a href="http://vimeo.com/user6071242">Annie Pace</a> on <a href="http://vimeo.com/">Vimeo</a>.Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02427933893021813957noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8912489167502428615.post-44135247764978134182012-04-13T10:19:00.000-07:002012-04-13T10:19:47.537-07:00Camping in the Rainforest - Day 2<span style="font-family: "Times","serif"; font-size: 10pt;">I woke up in my hammock with a jolt. My eyes tried to adjust to the pitch black but I could see nothing. My ears, on the other hand, were overwhelmed with the sound of rain pounding on the tin roof of our boat, and the sound of a howling wind. The boat was rocking side to side. There was a loud crash as the boat slammed into the wooden dock. The thick rope attaching our boat to the large wooden post was doing its job despite the tugs of the angry river trying to pull us downstream with the storm. </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times","serif"; font-size: 10pt;">Suddenly, lightning flashed and I could see all around me as the entire Amazon night was electrified. It only lasted for a split second, but it was enough to see our luggage on the floor getting soaked as the rain began pouring in through the holes in the tarp covering the sides of the boat. I looked toward my parents’ hammocks, and heard a peaceful snore coming from my dad, undisturbed by the storm. This calmed me down a little. I sank down in my hammock, my mind racing, and tried to find the sleep that wasn’t going to come for many hours. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times","serif"; font-size: 10pt;">This was the first tropical rainforest storm I had experienced. All I could think about was when we would eat at the Rainforest Café back home and they would have “storm simulations” every 15 minutes or so, when the lights would dim and fake lightning and rain would begin to lightly shower amused customers. Now, my hammock swung back and forth with the waves caused by the storm in the real rainforest, with real lightning. I wished I could say “Check, please.” But since neither the check, nor sleep was coming, I began thinking about my day to keep my mind off the storm. I had met some incredible people, and got a glimpse into a way of life incredibly different than my own. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times","serif"; font-size: 10pt;">The day had begun that morning as I watched the sunrise over the Amazon River from the roof of our boat. When I climbed down from, I saw the archaeologists suiting up to explore for sites. They were covered from head to toe. They strapped on big black boots to walk through the flooded forest, long pants and long sleeved shirts to avoid getting scraped by the plants, hats to shade them from the sun, and t-shirts over their heads to cover the remaining exposed areas of their faces and necks. Everything but their eyes were covered, to protect them from the horrendous swarms of mosquitoes they were sure to encounter. They hopped off the boat and headed into the forest with machetes in hand, following their guide, a woman from the area whose house we were docked at. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJm3nFk4_F60V6gaKfC9Pj0P9qXOHgkKMnMXZjFfpQNmA_cRu49sO7W0vvZl93vjKJNYhnYh-i0Tdl74pNF3dk6DxsjknPZQNe7JK-mFZ_18bj0R2lAHmOJnLUxB0trVEXM1tnLNKv8mI/s1600/Archeologists.tif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJm3nFk4_F60V6gaKfC9Pj0P9qXOHgkKMnMXZjFfpQNmA_cRu49sO7W0vvZl93vjKJNYhnYh-i0Tdl74pNF3dk6DxsjknPZQNe7JK-mFZ_18bj0R2lAHmOJnLUxB0trVEXM1tnLNKv8mI/s320/Archeologists.tif" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Archeologists suited up for the hike through the rainforest</td></tr>
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times","serif"; font-size: 10pt;">Covered as the archaeologists were, their guide was wearing a dress. On top of that, she was a grandmother at least 60 years old. Her hair was greying, she had wrinkles under her eyes showing a lifetime of laughter, and a machete in her hand to chop away at the forest. The crew nicknamed her, “Indiana Grandma.” She was living proof that age shouldn’t slow a person down, as she walked over broken tree branches in her plastic flip flops. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYkTxcLbVsj_pNmyUCnDgVta8Iy2TNJ7P0D-2gk1UJMIq4kFulIU0ANEHOLVcyPOmH-OJaiWPSfVsVdmJrHJsDeur_O8rxfWRwHNwBpPg_4S4DsLNO-OKxFxi6tHQPXzcRS65wYLNXorg/s1600/Indiana+Grandma.tif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYkTxcLbVsj_pNmyUCnDgVta8Iy2TNJ7P0D-2gk1UJMIq4kFulIU0ANEHOLVcyPOmH-OJaiWPSfVsVdmJrHJsDeur_O8rxfWRwHNwBpPg_4S4DsLNO-OKxFxi6tHQPXzcRS65wYLNXorg/s320/Indiana+Grandma.tif" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Indiana Grandma" leading the hike</td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times","serif"; font-size: 10pt;">When they returned from their search, we interviewed “Indiana Grandma,” or Artulina. She sat with us in her living room for hours, telling us stories of what life in the interior was like in the old days, noting the many struggles people in that area have had to overcome through the years, and humoring us with stories of legends and folktales of creatures that live in the forest.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times","serif"; font-size: 10pt;"> As we were filming, we discovered another obstacle to overcome with these types of interviews in the interior. Artulina’s six grandchildren had never seen cameras like we had before, and they were very curious. Aged 5 to 10, they couldn’t comprehend the “etiquette” of an interview in which other people are supposed to be quiet and still while the camera is rolling. How could they understand this? They had never been in this situation before. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times","serif"; font-size: 10pt;">So they decided to make a game of it. They began to pop their heads in front of the camera every couple minutes. They climbed onto the couch with their grandmother, calling her name to see if she would stop talking to the camera people and notice them. They chattered loudly in Portuguese next to the camera, and were entertained when Glenn would put his finger to his mouth motioning them to quiet down. In an attempt to distract them, my mom brought them candy. This worked, but only for a short while. They ran off and enjoyed their candy by the river. But 20 minutes later, they were back with a full surge of sugar energy. </span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Giving the kids candy = bad idea</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPxDBl5tKGPCIMWg8AUkroPLmncSmEGgShoS8OtNv1m74_d98ukOE0-_M86rzYsuDO3EqzsejKJ7miZjZi7S1sAWbwHdeVk9R7wjf-OmNzDvYmN2ue86EC0yMjVCorArBlk8MgmS62oFM/s1600/Kids.tif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPxDBl5tKGPCIMWg8AUkroPLmncSmEGgShoS8OtNv1m74_d98ukOE0-_M86rzYsuDO3EqzsejKJ7miZjZi7S1sAWbwHdeVk9R7wjf-OmNzDvYmN2ue86EC0yMjVCorArBlk8MgmS62oFM/s320/Kids.tif" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The kids pointing at the camera and planning their mischievous acts</td></tr>
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times","serif"; font-size: 10pt;">But not every child in the interior was this mischievously curious. Later that day we cruised down the river to another wooden house on stilts to interview a man there. The man also had grandchildren, and as his 8-year-old granddaughter came outside to see what we were doing, I wondered if she was going to be as curious as the other children. She was, but in a very shy way. She peered at me through the open door and sat there, quietly. She watched as I changed the battery and turned my camera on. I saw her from the corner of my eye, and motioned for her to come and sit next to me. She came and sat down, and was soon intrigued to see a moving picture of her grandpa on the screen of my camera. She began handing me batteries and memory cards from my bag, and was excited at the thought of being a little helper. I handed her my mom’s handheld video camera and asked her to return it to my mother. After the interview was over, I found my mother teaching her how to film with the handheld camera. Her eyes lit up as she walked around with the camera and filmed trees and people. When we left her house that day as the sun was setting, she told us that she wanted to grow up and film movies.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmwaS6FJaTD8_-zTr_wOPtdEaisu3Fytd0Nqip48TAruc3uK3fFxkJ6U3z9mp-quqGO8tywTvyCAFoJPeAmeB48nrTGptIJR-_CAR-HjCveL_91n-b5B9M5E7MrmaJAfQCnBHnmwcrl_c/s1600/549963_3514646955670_1556836881_33044606_1453683765_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmwaS6FJaTD8_-zTr_wOPtdEaisu3Fytd0Nqip48TAruc3uK3fFxkJ6U3z9mp-quqGO8tywTvyCAFoJPeAmeB48nrTGptIJR-_CAR-HjCveL_91n-b5B9M5E7MrmaJAfQCnBHnmwcrl_c/s320/549963_3514646955670_1556836881_33044606_1453683765_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Discussing future film careers</td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times","serif"; font-size: 10pt;">Another lightning bolt struck and lit up the entire inside of the boat, snapping me back to the reality of the storm. I started feeling motion sick as my hammock kept swinging back and forth with the angry waves. One side of the tarp flung open, and rain began showering the inside of the boat. Then suddenly the weather calmed. The rain slowed to a drizzle, the thunder rumbled with softer force as the storm moved away. The frogs even began to come out from hiding, and croak their usual nightly croak. The storm had passed as quickly as it had come, and I finally fell into a restful sleep. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br />
</div>Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02427933893021813957noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8912489167502428615.post-75129645635252776192012-04-04T12:40:00.000-07:002012-04-04T12:45:42.263-07:00Camping in the Rainforest - Day 1<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:OfficeDocumentSettings> <o:AllowPNG/> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:TrackMoves/> <w:TrackFormatting/> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:DoNotPromoteQF/> <w:LidThemeOther>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther> <w:LidThemeAsian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian> <w:LidThemeComplexScript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> <w:SplitPgBreakAndParaMark/> <w:EnableOpenTypeKerning/> <w:DontFlipMirrorIndents/> <w:OverrideTableStyleHps/> </w:Compatibility> <m:mathPr> <m:mathFont m:val="Cambria Math"/> <m:brkBin m:val="before"/> <m:brkBinSub m:val="--"/> <m:smallFrac m:val="off"/> <m:dispDef/> <m:lMargin m:val="0"/> <m:rMargin m:val="0"/> <m:defJc m:val="centerGroup"/> <m:wrapIndent m:val="1440"/> <m:intLim m:val="subSup"/> <m:naryLim m:val="undOvr"/> </m:mathPr></w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" DefUnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: .5in;"><span class="normalchar"><u><span style="font-family: "Times","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></u></span><span style="font-family: "Times","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Camping. After this past week, the meaning of the word has lost its vigor to me. The action of camping outdoors, sleeping in a tent, roughing it – just the mention of the word was at one time so<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>adventuresome to me. I thought it would be like camping, our venture into the interior. Only instead of a tent, I’d be sleeping in a hammock on a wooden boat. Instead of woods, I’d be in the middle of the Amazon rainforest. Instead of roasting marshmellows, I’d be eating rice and beans, rice and beans, rice and beans… and the occasional tropical fruit picked from the tree.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times","serif"; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our “camping” adventure of living on a boat for as days as we worked our way down the Amazon River turned out to be one of the most intense “roughing it” experiences I have had yet. And after the five days were over, as I dragged myself down the dock of Gurupa towards home, with mud-stained clothes, bruised legs, and a high fever, I couldn’t help but think how wrong I was comparing this trip to<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>camping. I’ve never come back from camping with every inch of my body aching, from my toes to the gums of my teeth. But what it was… it was truly the most beautiful, refreshing, and indescribable five days. I had seen nature at its purest. And I was forever changed by it. This was the last thought I had before falling into a deep sleep that lasted for the next 26 hours. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">How did it all begin? I knew we would be staying in Gurupa for three weeks, allowing my dad to do his anthropology research while I filmed interviews for the documentary we’ve been working on since last summer. Along with us for the trip was my mother, anthropologist Glenn Shephard, two Brazilian archaeologists, Joao and Carlos, and my dad’s student Kevin McDaniel. The town of Gurupa is remote, and at times has its comfort limits. The internet, on the rare days it is functioning in the town, is painfully slow at best. There are one or two home-run restaurants in the town and a couple of supermarkets – all of which are on their own schedule for opening and closing. The town is essentially smack in the middle of the Amazon rainforest, which comes with intense heat, swarms of mosquitoes, and a 3-hour boat ride upstream if you want to catch the newest flick at the movies. But even this tiny town that many people in the city of closest city of Belem have never heard of, is looked at as the “big city” to the people who live in the interior of the rainforest. By interior, I mean families that live in small wooden houses on stilts along the Amazon River. They have no need for motorcycles or cars – their only form of travel being wooden canoes or other small boats. Their closest neighbors are the tropical parrots, <span class="normalchar"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">botos</i></span> (fresh water dolphins), and <span class="normalchar"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">coba grandes</i></span> (giant snakes). Needless to say, they don’t go trick-or-treating for Halloween. </span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiOVS31oivgBKL7D9FAoHSTm_2whU8cApNEtpqK6YfL78AckabYT3DfVQoSpJKygA2qWdsqPUKWq-ZRobXK8Clk3cRBfaQ2RKyDoVrMkJHX4bGhJDbnYNy0p8IRG2S94BdEAQtf45ao78/s1600/IMG_5157.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiOVS31oivgBKL7D9FAoHSTm_2whU8cApNEtpqK6YfL78AckabYT3DfVQoSpJKygA2qWdsqPUKWq-ZRobXK8Clk3cRBfaQ2RKyDoVrMkJHX4bGhJDbnYNy0p8IRG2S94BdEAQtf45ao78/s320/IMG_5157.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Little girl outside her house in the interior</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The interior rainforest, and these miniscule interior towns, was where we were headed with the crew. My dad had funded an archaeological expedition to search for sites within the interior. The archaeologists were going to be hiking through knee-high waters, cutting trees and brush with a machete, to search for signs of areas that might have ancient to prehistoric artifacts, dirt untouched by the hands of any archeologist thus far in history. The job of Glenn and I was to film it all, to interview the people who lived there – in short, to capture life in the interior on film. Sounds easy enough right? Flash forward to balancing on a fallen tree over a swamp covered with prickly plants, filled with who knows what creatures, a 10-pound camera strapped around my neck threatening to drag me down closer and closer to a scene from the movie “Anaconda.” But let’s start at the beginning… </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv5dHf1NCn4Skeio5BcPT02W8fF30UWL7Z0cj0_NPW-tcp08o5PL9ibt_2FhQzwdYXK7SSQi88h9OYt8S9rS6Mu4WglB5o_uAFKQndNuepofudsEI6egrHQG5C47h45G0CG-PTLpVUsh8/s1600/IMG_3434.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv5dHf1NCn4Skeio5BcPT02W8fF30UWL7Z0cj0_NPW-tcp08o5PL9ibt_2FhQzwdYXK7SSQi88h9OYt8S9rS6Mu4WglB5o_uAFKQndNuepofudsEI6egrHQG5C47h45G0CG-PTLpVUsh8/s320/IMG_3434.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our boat/home for the 5 days that followed</td></tr>
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="normalchar"><b><u><span style="font-family: "Times","serif"; font-size: 10pt;">DAY ONE </span></u></b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="normalchar"><b><u><span style="font-family: "Times","serif"; font-size: 10pt;"><br />
</span></u></b></span><span style="font-family: "Times","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">As I walked on the dock toward the bobbing boat with the words FASE painted on the side, I wondered what this adventure would bring. I jumped into the side of the boat below, where I saw my dad already in his hammock – dead to the world. He had eaten some bad meat the night before, and was paying dearly with horrible stomach pains. The journey wasn’t off to a great start, we were already two hours behind schedule and the motor had decided to let us know it was tired of waiting by filling the boat with thick black smoke and a disheartening sputtering noise. Just as the smoke began acting as an unbearably hot blanket in the already stifling heat, the motor came to life and before we knew it we were puttering along the river, the cool wind blowing away the smoke and the unsteady bumping in the water swaying our hammocks gently. </span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM_Rqndj9LBTJZWBd_tCa-feu3dE5bT-kjW-3xKdoTjYfqVuNokSK_C3QqwVnrVyY26F4cg7zRjZeUKxYTHUQ5QcKlXAo07PbgbTmtIolsNQSN3GyLTbEgB6s-Tm1C3FBOyDa-w0ArPWk/s1600/IMG_3419.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM_Rqndj9LBTJZWBd_tCa-feu3dE5bT-kjW-3xKdoTjYfqVuNokSK_C3QqwVnrVyY26F4cg7zRjZeUKxYTHUQ5QcKlXAo07PbgbTmtIolsNQSN3GyLTbEgB6s-Tm1C3FBOyDa-w0ArPWk/s320/IMG_3419.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our hammocks hung in the boat</td></tr>
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">After a few hours, the motor was cut off and we began floating slowly towards the dock of our first stop, a small wooden house seemingly in the middle of nowhere. The archaeologists had already jumped off the boat once we docked to ask the family inside if they knew of any sites nearby. I was getting my camera ready, and a thought ran across my mind. What if the families in the interior don’t want to be filmed? They surely don’t get too many foreigners in their house wanting to put a camera in their face. And my Portuguese-language skills were not anywhere near the level of accurately explaining the documentary we were making about the history and culture of the area. What if this all was for nothing? </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I walked along the small dock and entered the house, and saw everyone sitting on the floor, with bits of what looked like straw or palm thatch scattered everywhere. There was an older woman sitting closest to the door, with a huge pile of plant stems surrounding her. She would take a knife, and cut and “X” onto the top of the thick stems. Then she would take two sticks, making another “X”, and slide them all the way down, cutting the stem into 4 thin strips. With these strips, she was weaving baskets. The way she weaved was so intricate and beautiful that I was itching to grab my camera, but I knew we had to ask permission first before filming. So my mother asked her if I could film, she looked at me, looked back at my mother, and said no. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Well there goes that, I thought. But since our documentary was apparently doomed anyway, I decided to at least enjoy the moment – so I grabbed an unfinished basket and began attempting to help the woman weave. This was much more difficult than I realized, as the strips began cracking and breaking in my clumsy fingers. The woman caught sight of what I was doing, and started laughing. My struggles with weaving amused her, so she decided to sit and teach me the proper way to do it. After a while I had finished almost half of a basket to her two, and she had allowed Glenn to film the process. When we left she jokingly offered me a job with her – little does she know that I’m adding “basket weaving” to my resume. </span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAZfJHm-QtzD6b_k4ZepYSvt5kbTmwT-JaKTN5pqZ2pajbH0Z7kTFLBGk695s187Q1yliZLXWswWl_j79krAJdcPmEgfAtgXJFgwUuU0uOcLapbi6Re6FrizNFodj387vXOm7yR26WWN4/s1600/521851_3514662116049_1556836881_33044617_1667601434_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAZfJHm-QtzD6b_k4ZepYSvt5kbTmwT-JaKTN5pqZ2pajbH0Z7kTFLBGk695s187Q1yliZLXWswWl_j79krAJdcPmEgfAtgXJFgwUuU0uOcLapbi6Re6FrizNFodj387vXOm7yR26WWN4/s320/521851_3514662116049_1556836881_33044617_1667601434_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Learning from the best</td></tr>
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Later that night, I could not get to sleep. I was lying in my hammock, eyes wide open, staring into pitch darkness. It might have been that I was not used to sleeping in a hammock, and could not find a comfortable position. Or maybe the fact that I kept getting myself tangled in the mosquito net that hung above me. There were also the hundreds of animal noises coming from the darkness,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>none of which I could recognize apart for the exceptionally loud croaking frog that sounded as if it had hopped onboard. But most likely, what was keeping me up was the symphony of snores coming from all five anthropologists/archaeologists onboard. Either way, the hours went by and before I knew it, it was 5 AM and I was still wide awake. So since sleep wasn’t coming anytime soon, I decided to climb on top of our boat and watch the sun rise over the rainforest horizon. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I crept out to the front of the boat, trying to be quiet but every step made the old wooden boat creak and moan. It was enough noise to wake up my mother, who climbed out of her hammock too join me on the front of the boat. I began climbing the ladder to the top of the tin roof, my mother staying below due to a fear of heights, especially heights in pitch darkness. In mid-climb I looked up, and what I saw made me freeze, grasping onto the final step of the ladder.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRUVzxxlOzMX32xL6IS38K_TKhttvCZRcUaj3kvJ-rz4YewywnMnmMyPaVcz7AhWHVK5IjkQBP54c3pT_BU7Izf2m8qcVeY6IYE4pqemgBo3NGAUKnxXzESEHoJF-L3qLcyn7ew-Uk9eQ/s1600/IMG_4707.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRUVzxxlOzMX32xL6IS38K_TKhttvCZRcUaj3kvJ-rz4YewywnMnmMyPaVcz7AhWHVK5IjkQBP54c3pT_BU7Izf2m8qcVeY6IYE4pqemgBo3NGAUKnxXzESEHoJF-L3qLcyn7ew-Uk9eQ/s320/IMG_4707.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Above, in the pitch-black sky, were thousands of brilliant stars stretching farther than my eyes could follow. And in the dark river below was a crystal-clear reflection of the starry night. I could pick out every constellation in the rippling water, like a mirror set purposely on the ground to double the intensity and the magnificence of the brilliant sight twinkling above. I sat there on top of the boat, legs swinging off the side of the cool tin roof, and tried to memorize every detail. The sun began to rise and the black sky turned dark blue, and the twinkling stars began to disappear one by one. The noises of the animals in the forest began to change from croaking frogs and buzzing mosquitos to early-morning parrots and woodpeckers. The comforting aroma of fresh Brazilian coffee brewing let me know the crew was awake, and it was time to begin another day in this beautiful place. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8vDQ2RY37zCrqkUIg7b_SRTwCo8SSwkmZ71-yAvAe2pBj49n6sNkcyVVH8yFbXgxTxeJHPs3c7uziMgVq32hbDQ2ZPJG4oA7szTKx0VCz71c5PJJ2ucqWAMHgxw6euokUITYe9jztjc4/s1600/485055_3514651075773_1556836881_33044609_1626555054_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8vDQ2RY37zCrqkUIg7b_SRTwCo8SSwkmZ71-yAvAe2pBj49n6sNkcyVVH8yFbXgxTxeJHPs3c7uziMgVq32hbDQ2ZPJG4oA7szTKx0VCz71c5PJJ2ucqWAMHgxw6euokUITYe9jztjc4/s320/485055_3514651075773_1556836881_33044609_1626555054_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Watching the sun rise over the Amazon River from the roof of our boat</td></tr>
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</div>Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02427933893021813957noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8912489167502428615.post-618680104027809912012-03-28T11:28:00.000-07:002012-04-04T12:45:42.263-07:00My Amazon Town<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times","serif"; font-size: 10pt;">I have been on the move for 10 months now. From Brazil to Mexico to Florida and now back to Brazil. I have not stood still since I graduated. Because of this constant movement, I haven’t experienced the feeling of relaxation that comes with being home again. Even in Tampa, I was living out of my suitcase, sleeping on my sister’s couch until the next trip began. But today was an amazing day. Today I felt the closest to being at home.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times","serif"; font-size: 10pt;">You know that feeling you get during the holidays, when the whole family is in town visiting and you can just stretch out on the couch wearing those awful candy-cane pajamas because you are comfortable with every single person in your house? The moment when you can walk into the kitchen to join your cousins’ card games, go by the fireplace to chat with your grandparents, or relax on the couch and let all the little kids come to you with toys and board games eager to play. That moment where you realize so many meaningful people are all under the same roof? That is the same feeling I get when I come to Gurupa. Only instead of my whole family in a single house, my whole Gurupa family is all together in this six-street Amazon town. </span></div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFwCXWpibOqdjQkmsgSfSc2TUfhjRwTUgY9l0aWGW51hOnwUNej35kzd8Cyj45QHnENWEV3DvJCyUIzbGxj-zfMot2UI1_8tNlLUQU3YR5H6f77UmJH9oKc2eoq3M74Itn9TN3V_Lu6kQ/s1600/IMG_6028.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFwCXWpibOqdjQkmsgSfSc2TUfhjRwTUgY9l0aWGW51hOnwUNej35kzd8Cyj45QHnENWEV3DvJCyUIzbGxj-zfMot2UI1_8tNlLUQU3YR5H6f77UmJH9oKc2eoq3M74Itn9TN3V_Lu6kQ/s320/IMG_6028.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dock of Gurupa along Amazon River at 5 AM</td></tr>
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times","serif"; font-size: 10pt;">As we – my parents and I – sailed toward Gurupa, it was only the fifth time in my life I had seen the distant lights of the town reflect off the river, which meant our boat was about to arrive. I couldn’t help but smile as I looked out at the town, realizing this place was my little escape from reality, another life that no one back home really knows about. I would love to bring each and every one of my friends and family to this place, and I would love to show my Gurupa family my life back home, but there is something enchanting about keeping these two lives separate. And every time I step off the boat and onto the dock, I feel like I am stepping into my own secret world. Like a secret garden, only this garden consists of miles upon miles of rainforest. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times","serif"; font-size: 10pt;">Walking around in the streets of Gurupa gives me so much energy, even at the scorching hot hours of the day where the brutal sun makes it clear you are walking along the equator. But as we are walking, so many people come up to greet us and give us big hugs, telling us that they remember us from last summer, two years ago, or even (for my parents) 30 years ago. When we visit our oldest family friends in Gurupa, it doesn’t even faze me that they only speak Portuguese or that they live in a tiny wooden house and would be considered in the United States a family in poverty. It doesn’t faze me, because when we walk through the doors, they give <span class="normalchar"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">us</i></span> gifts. They make us coffee and cakes and treat us like members of their family. My parents and I haven’t lived our entire lives in the tiny six-street town, we don’t own our own canoe to go out to fish and catch dinner for our family. We haven’t harvested crops in the forest or tapped rubber trees or gathered tropical fruits for breakfast. We are not Gurupaencies. However, the families there treat us as if we’ve just lived in the next wooden house over for the entirety of our lives. That is something I truly appreciate, and every visit it amazes me. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times","serif"; font-size: 10pt;">On this day arriving to Gurupa, my mother, father, and I set off down the road to visit the first family that became dear to our hearts. We sat outside covered by the shade of the palm trees and listened to the legends of Gurupa being told while chickens walked between our legs and the parrots gave their sporadic squawks, making themselves known to the returning Paces. The little girls of that family had gotten so big since the last I had seen them. They were all talking now, and tried to teach me a form of “patty cake” in Portuguese. They got so frazzled with me when I failed every single time, and giggled because the youngest, 3-year-old Emily, could do it with ease. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Playing "Patty-Cake" with the girls</td></tr>
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times","serif"; font-size: 10pt;">Then we walked down the road to my other family, the couple who have been married for more than 50 years, who always greet us with a warm smile, a fresh cup of Cupuacu, and a story. We sat on their porch and talked for hours as their grandchildren walked by to say hello, which happened often because Izabel and Edegar are related to what seems like half the town. Edegar brought his guitar out and serenaded us with a song he wrote about Gurupa, and Izabel took me behind the house to show me how she makes medicine from the plants in the tropical forest that is her backyard. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Edgar playing his guitar outside his house</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Izabel showing her plants in the backyard</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="font-family: "Times","serif"; font-size: 10pt;">Finally the cool breeze and setting sun brought us to our last family. The beat from the music playing in the techno club across the street brought back so many memories of living with this family, my first Gurupa family. I could recall so vividly sitting on the porch and watching my Brazilian sister rocked to sleep to the beats of the techno music when she was only 2 years old. We walked up to the house and Eduarda, now 5, ran up to me and squeezed me as tight as she could. We held hands as we walked with my mom to get ice cream at the shop down the street. Everything was down the street. Everything was within walking distance. And everything was perfect now that I was finally home… my Amazon town. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Eduarda, her brother, and cousins</td></tr>
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</div>Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02427933893021813957noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8912489167502428615.post-53667020550641083702012-02-09T12:05:00.000-08:002012-03-28T09:27:49.084-07:00The Kayapo Indians in Belem<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:OfficeDocumentSettings> <o:AllowPNG/> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:TrackMoves/> <w:TrackFormatting/> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:DoNotPromoteQF/> <w:LidThemeOther>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther> <w:LidThemeAsian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian> <w:LidThemeComplexScript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> <w:SplitPgBreakAndParaMark/> <w:EnableOpenTypeKerning/> <w:DontFlipMirrorIndents/> <w:OverrideTableStyleHps/> </w:Compatibility> <m:mathPr> <m:mathFont m:val="Cambria Math"/> <m:brkBin m:val="before"/> <m:brkBinSub m:val="--"/> <m:smallFrac m:val="off"/> <m:dispDef/> <m:lMargin m:val="0"/> <m:rMargin m:val="0"/> <m:defJc m:val="centerGroup"/> <m:wrapIndent m:val="1440"/> <m:intLim m:val="subSup"/> <m:naryLim m:val="undOvr"/> </m:mathPr></w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" DefUnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<div class="MsoNormal">The world of the anthropologist is astounding to me. The gift of learning and understanding another culture so different than your own not only enriches your own perception of the world but stays with you for life. My passion in life may be production, but anthropology is still so engrained in my family that I cannot help but be inspired by it everyday. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">While in Brazil doing research for his grant, my father has been working closely with a Museum in Belem called Museu Goeldi. This Museum was built for the different indigenous tribes along the Amazon and Xingu River.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Meseu Goeldi is very different than other museums around the area, because they encourage and even pay for the members of the tribes to come and visit the museum, and correct any mistakes they have made through translations or artifacts they have mislabeled.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A big project occurring now is one with the Kayapo Indians, headed by Anthropologist Glenn Shepard. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtIuHh8Unld0-0hgN1vtYPKKqfDn5_zXyMv-W0W61ex5qo2hyphenhyphenC-Z-dxB06hj7NzfRhm-t5ojJ3SQWojIUa3lFA5WP3_9iTqVUrDSWsGBUXGWhwZedIIPPviu3WfJB7l7B-EaAyBVfE0v8/s1600/Kayapo+15.tif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtIuHh8Unld0-0hgN1vtYPKKqfDn5_zXyMv-W0W61ex5qo2hyphenhyphenC-Z-dxB06hj7NzfRhm-t5ojJ3SQWojIUa3lFA5WP3_9iTqVUrDSWsGBUXGWhwZedIIPPviu3WfJB7l7B-EaAyBVfE0v8/s320/Kayapo+15.tif" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">Lucky for me, I arrived to Belem just about the exact same time 3 members of the Kayapo Indians arrived from their village off the Xingu River. I had heard about the Kayapo Indians, and knew they were known for their traditional dress. This tradition includes elaborate body paintings that often cover men and women from head to toe. It is also common for the men to wear a lip spacer in their bottom lip, however the newer generation has stopped wearing them because of the discomfort they cause. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I could immediately tell who the 3 Kayapos were at first glance, not because of their dress – they were wearing very casual t-shirt and shorts – but because of their manner. They were very reserved, quiet and pensive… trying to take in everything going on around them. Two of the men had long hair pulled back in a pony tail. The older of the three had long, silver hair, kindness overflowing through his eyes, yet the two others seem to look at him with such respect and veneration. He was the Shaman of the tribe, or the spiritual leader.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm34Ts3dYdiM7hXNRByHmOvaNsLwpvugxCm5RrN7FwVduvyOLl5tVa-qChkqxTJxjIrtt23ty_mLZ4bupwG7a_8ZV0T8esgwM0rePBQXpY0-FQgZExXPJhPo-dJnWu8IJQwcyN_1h2Zvg/s1600/Kayapo+16.tif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm34Ts3dYdiM7hXNRByHmOvaNsLwpvugxCm5RrN7FwVduvyOLl5tVa-qChkqxTJxjIrtt23ty_mLZ4bupwG7a_8ZV0T8esgwM0rePBQXpY0-FQgZExXPJhPo-dJnWu8IJQwcyN_1h2Zvg/s320/Kayapo+16.tif" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Earlier that day Glenn said he had shown the Shaman a necklace kept in the artifacts in the museum. This necklace could only be obtained by killing an enemy, and when the Shaman picked it up he immediately went into a trance and started convulsing. When he came to, he told Glenn that his Eagle Spirit told him he could not touch the necklace until it had been blessed. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Later that week the Shaman approached me and my parents. He reached in a bag and pulled out 3 eagle feathers. He told us that these feathers will bring luck and goodness to whoever they have been given to. All 3 of us felt truly honored that he chose to give us those feathers. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjakjfN80xXRyfuUE_hx_uwkT9pAWlEq_MHenYdIX8vaa8-gOwkQ85II1r1wExFCxXhyphenhyphenA4z2Ug2oe5aAHJS71z09K68UHJs4D39KVyo4BeGUFWvDWpsOzZVLWvXq_t0XdnDfCmlbAG7JC8/s1600/P1000779.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjakjfN80xXRyfuUE_hx_uwkT9pAWlEq_MHenYdIX8vaa8-gOwkQ85II1r1wExFCxXhyphenhyphenA4z2Ug2oe5aAHJS71z09K68UHJs4D39KVyo4BeGUFWvDWpsOzZVLWvXq_t0XdnDfCmlbAG7JC8/s320/P1000779.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">My dad noticed while we were all eating lunch in the museum cafeteria, it was a little bit difficult for the Kayapo to know the culture of Brazilians from the city of Belem. They were understanding pay by the weight system and buffet style servicing. Instead just walked up to the chicken that was cooking on the grill, and grabbed it; Which was followed by a stern, but understanding looks from the cashier. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">But the most interesting thing that day was what happened before lunch. The Kayapo noticed the headdresses in the museum were broken. So they told Glenn and the others that they would make them some more out of palm thatch leaves. To them, this was their responsibility… this is where their history of their tribe was being conserved, this museum was theirs… it belonged just as much to the Kayapo. </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyKDn4Z3xycCrJPEM25ovcNmBdKzfy65l0RcOGMkXOYLudh5a_PJi7mkSZFmb3VNh3dCLWIn4Ip5eEig1LM91xUyxF-LUSJ17PJAAv-DBOVR67OWppni-okz2lCedWNCKSxfE_1XtnmiY/s1600/Kayapo+3.tif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyKDn4Z3xycCrJPEM25ovcNmBdKzfy65l0RcOGMkXOYLudh5a_PJi7mkSZFmb3VNh3dCLWIn4Ip5eEig1LM91xUyxF-LUSJ17PJAAv-DBOVR67OWppni-okz2lCedWNCKSxfE_1XtnmiY/s320/Kayapo+3.tif" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyugggphOwD4oOUqAdPtb9Eyt0TsPbgFGlZENwKC0x0gjRXAjaMHp_OI4kK2ZdC2b8Ypcoc1PxIs1aNksQA-hcfJYJZONaz0bJE4LeoEHpziaph4wP0Fme27PLcRJjeieaNha6Jk6gxWA/s1600/Kayapo+8_1.tif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyugggphOwD4oOUqAdPtb9Eyt0TsPbgFGlZENwKC0x0gjRXAjaMHp_OI4kK2ZdC2b8Ypcoc1PxIs1aNksQA-hcfJYJZONaz0bJE4LeoEHpziaph4wP0Fme27PLcRJjeieaNha6Jk6gxWA/s320/Kayapo+8_1.tif" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaGoVFv-B8OHigj1Q0YxGAoD7TAE8zoT5jGw1JkeR9R2S3yKeNkhkS9t8meV1JMJAr9gBkOK3zcRTft6pJ-ctq5bOZjRakIbM0igbCgN1Qf3xV5MA_kutyS0oeW5u7WvVO8KRZIheyU8A/s1600/Kayapo+1.tif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaGoVFv-B8OHigj1Q0YxGAoD7TAE8zoT5jGw1JkeR9R2S3yKeNkhkS9t8meV1JMJAr9gBkOK3zcRTft6pJ-ctq5bOZjRakIbM0igbCgN1Qf3xV5MA_kutyS0oeW5u7WvVO8KRZIheyU8A/s320/Kayapo+1.tif" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">They not only gathered the material, cut the excess off, and made two new headdresses… they also wanted to show us the traditional dance they do when wearing the headdresses. As they danced in the middle of the Museo Goeldi outdoor area, I realized this was truly one of a kind and an experience I never would have had, and a group of people I never would have known about had it not been for the passion of Anthropologists and the open minded nature of people from all different countries, cities, and tribes. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFOLDGajED9wwJFl_x8MqWyitJMK3IHTiwW4FCx9wugbqhggWe0B4zKhcYuNbz8zcYyvZ0bwOUau2AUfbUkUMSxy4DiIB2iYYHjNa33AA2bdZd0XcUOfKhgbwKsdvw43fzB3V3lc6aRVY/s1600/Kayapo+11.tif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFOLDGajED9wwJFl_x8MqWyitJMK3IHTiwW4FCx9wugbqhggWe0B4zKhcYuNbz8zcYyvZ0bwOUau2AUfbUkUMSxy4DiIB2iYYHjNa33AA2bdZd0XcUOfKhgbwKsdvw43fzB3V3lc6aRVY/s320/Kayapo+11.tif" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKCALidde3_RIyvfpq8FmvWsv0wrzK49g_uhzh0b8ciceWHUeq0VmY7Yg1A3G9S-a0dk6er-OfFi_7Gabw15_upV1Xjo6-NbglFOoFGwsBbD1YT7uTYoTZsRiZxxJAnX3Aj1iSJAVjHDI/s1600/Kayapo+13.tif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKCALidde3_RIyvfpq8FmvWsv0wrzK49g_uhzh0b8ciceWHUeq0VmY7Yg1A3G9S-a0dk6er-OfFi_7Gabw15_upV1Xjo6-NbglFOoFGwsBbD1YT7uTYoTZsRiZxxJAnX3Aj1iSJAVjHDI/s320/Kayapo+13.tif" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiup9wUEzbsJqq-WAS-F_WTl6Sl7GQ8yk4tmT5J9uUks0sGlMZ9_GNiBr7jvrZVqk3zemkcBDEhV58qL54EBw1Sk5txfh_912phk1pBPDW8rS19cM3nkh_ICT6N8iBP9OvXp9qpe4zlECk/s1600/Kayapo+14.tif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiup9wUEzbsJqq-WAS-F_WTl6Sl7GQ8yk4tmT5J9uUks0sGlMZ9_GNiBr7jvrZVqk3zemkcBDEhV58qL54EBw1Sk5txfh_912phk1pBPDW8rS19cM3nkh_ICT6N8iBP9OvXp9qpe4zlECk/s320/Kayapo+14.tif" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div>Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02427933893021813957noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8912489167502428615.post-9474210548969076852012-01-30T14:08:00.000-08:002012-03-28T09:27:49.084-07:00Belem - Two Disparate Worlds, One City<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOJGeXcpmlz0Y7WZKlfK3G2KRnKej1LN2urTY5sDMY3zzpOqKoMCA2B4ltLJ68_I1FHmQBDDS4l8ZZyiar8qS_YAldUrjjqQr67G3bRYXi7CbBw3USqiqIdT1WXF9H7XMfvbWGNJLJLpw/s1600/Belem.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOJGeXcpmlz0Y7WZKlfK3G2KRnKej1LN2urTY5sDMY3zzpOqKoMCA2B4ltLJ68_I1FHmQBDDS4l8ZZyiar8qS_YAldUrjjqQr67G3bRYXi7CbBw3USqiqIdT1WXF9H7XMfvbWGNJLJLpw/s1600/Belem.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">Belem has always been the hardest place for me to explain. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">If you were to ask me about Rio, I could go on and on about the fast pace, yet carefree city life. It is a one of a kind place where in the heart of the city, sky scrapers hover over the Cariocas (people of Rio), whose feet walk to the beat of samba and every streets opens up to miles and miles of beautiful beach coast line, set behind a mountain backdrop. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Or Gurupa, the small yet growing town in the middle of the Amazon Rainforest that takes a 30 hour boat ride down the Amazon River to even get to. When you are inside the town, you feel as if you are in an exclusive member into the Gurupa family, with people who greet you with arms wide open for making the difficult journey to see them. While walking around the dirt (and now few paved) roads it’s easy to forget that just a couple of blocks away is the heart of the Amazon Jungle, and your neighbors are the Macaws that fly in the sky above you and Howler monkeys whose calls can be heard from deep in the jungle. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">But Belem is very unique. Years and years ago, it began as a small town not so different from Gurupa – with dirt roads and small wooden shacks on stilts to avoid being washed away during rainy season. But then this town began to grow. Street became paved, bicycles became motorcycles, motorcycles became cars, cars became buses. Then even more people began to move here and stores began to be built, the stores became shopping malls, shopping malls became sky scrapers and before you knew it, this little town developed into a booming city. The only booming city in the Brazilian Amazon.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Even as I was flying into Belem, what I saw looking out of my plane window seemed so out of place. For miles and miles all I could see was a vast blackness and we were flying over the rainforest, but then a sudden burst of light filled my tiny window as a huge city appeared out of nowhere. Where I had just been looking at darkness, presuming I was looking down into miles rainforest trees and wildlife, was now thousands of sparkling lights and staggering skyscrapers along the Amazon River coast line. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">But the brilliance of the city was still overwhelmed by the thousands and thousands of miles of darkness. And you could feel this odd sense that the city is out of place when walking around in the city streets. There is a definite city feel, as you walk down the crowded streets you are conscious of where your purse or wallet is at all times. The fresh rainforest air is laced with pollution and odd whiffs of sewage and trash. But at the same time hints of the rainforests mystical beauty are everywhere. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Today we visited the Museum where my dad does his research and my mother teaches English classes. We ate lunch in the cafeteria outside. The cafeteria is a wide open space with tables, chairs, and a buffet covered with a palm thatch roof. I sat down with a filled plate and enjoyed the cool breeze flowing through the cafeteria, which felt more like a breezy getaway under the palm thatch roof. As I started tasting my varied selection of tropical fruits, I could hear parrots chatting away in the trees nearby. With every sense, I could tell I was in the Amazon – but that feeling was skewed when just to the right of us in the distance were the outlines of skyscrapers. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Belem is a living contradiction. I have yet to understand this city fully, but I am extremely intrigued to begin learning… and eventually, understanding. </div>Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02427933893021813957noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8912489167502428615.post-6310406910198645092012-01-27T13:08:00.000-08:002012-03-28T09:27:49.084-07:00Hello Brazil, We Meet Again!<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:OfficeDocumentSettings> <o:AllowPNG/> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:TrackMoves/> <w:TrackFormatting/> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:DoNotPromoteQF/> <w:LidThemeOther>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther> <w:LidThemeAsian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian> <w:LidThemeComplexScript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> <w:SplitPgBreakAndParaMark/> <w:EnableOpenTypeKerning/> <w:DontFlipMirrorIndents/> <w:OverrideTableStyleHps/> </w:Compatibility> <m:mathPr> <m:mathFont m:val="Cambria Math"/> <m:brkBin m:val="before"/> <m:brkBinSub m:val="--"/> <m:smallFrac m:val="off"/> <m:dispDef/> <m:lMargin m:val="0"/> <m:rMargin m:val="0"/> <m:defJc m:val="centerGroup"/> <m:wrapIndent m:val="1440"/> <m:intLim m:val="subSup"/> <m:naryLim m:val="undOvr"/> </m:mathPr></w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" DefUnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<div class="MsoNormal">As I walked off the plane and scurried down the terminal just landing in Brazil, I was surrounded by Portuguese. I would try to focus in on conversations to see what I could pick up, but all I could here were the beautiful but frustrating “ju”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“jee” and “sha” sounds masking the Spanish I was trying to find within the whimsical conversations. This was going to be tough. After 3 months in Mexico working hard to learn Spanish, I was back to square one with Portuguese – and it was so hard to remember the little I had picked up last summer.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">It is so easy to forget how a little thing such as understanding random conversations around you, and being able to be understood – are so vital. And you can’t really understand that until that ability is taken from you. We go through a whole day back home not realizing how many things we say to friends, family, and even strangers that express our thoughts, emotions, and personality. Now back in Brazil, I felt as if I were stripped of that window to my personality and left mute. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Even though I see the language challenges in front of me, I am not overwhelmed. I think the reason for this is because I just did this in Mexico. And as frustrated and stressed I was in the first month, I eventually started getting better. And by the end of that trip, even though I was still far from fluent, I was no longer mute. I came back feeling proud, and I’m ready to start that process again with Portuguese. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Walking out of the plane in Belem, I hopped on the crowded terminal bus barely noticing the pushes and shoves because I was excited to see my parents. It had been 5 long months being countries apart. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">When I caught sight of them through the glass exit doors from luggage claim, I hurried my step and took a sharp left towards them. Well, apparently I wasn’t watching where I was going because my rolling suitcase got stuck on something. I tried to pull it past the obstacle, but it wasn’t budging. I looked back only to see my suitcase stuck on the staggering, leopard printed stiletto of a very agitated Brazilian women. Forgetting where I was, I quickly said, “Oh my gosh I’m so sorry!” She gave me the death stare as I rearranged the wheel of my suitcase to glide past her daunting 6 inch heel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Well there is one new Brazilian friend I will not have gained on this trip, hopefully I will have better luck tomorrow. But either way tonight was about my parents. They gathered up my things and took me in the taxi to what was going to be our new shared home. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">As we were driving, I looked out the windows at the streets. Some streets seemed nice, others very shady. I quickly began to realize this was not going to be like living in the safe town of Merida, Mexico – were you could walk in the streets at midnight alone and be fine. I would have to be more careful here, as in any bigger city. My initial impression of our new neighborhood was by no means sugar coated with my mother’s taxi ride stories. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“We see our friend Bernal there every morning!” </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Oh who is that?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“He is the rat that lives in the gutter. He runs by every morning and goes <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Squeak Squeak Squeak</i>!” </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">….. oh lord. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">As we walked up the steps to our apartment, my mother opened the door and I walked in. I took about 4 steps, and then realized I was at the end of the apartment. This 10 ft by 8 ft room was going to be interesting for 3 grown adults to inhabit. The kitchen attaches to a small closet-sized bathroom, that opens up to the main room – consisting of one queen bed for my parents and one hammock for me. It’s no stretch to say that my freshman year dorm room would give this place a run for its money. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">But, even though claustrophobia will take on a whole new meaning over these next months, this just comes along with the experience. There are families who have to live in a suffocating small area with even more to house. And somehow it works out. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I know one thing for sure, as the sound of my typing is accompanied by my mother praying the rosary and my father snoring loudly…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I will definitely be getting some bonding time with my parents. Whether I like it or not! </div>Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02427933893021813957noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8912489167502428615.post-61312662576482197812012-01-27T12:57:00.000-08:002012-01-27T12:57:50.616-08:00Preperation<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:OfficeDocumentSettings> <o:AllowPNG/> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:TrackMoves/> <w:TrackFormatting/> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:DoNotPromoteQF/> <w:LidThemeOther>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther> <w:LidThemeAsian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian> <w:LidThemeComplexScript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> <w:SplitPgBreakAndParaMark/> <w:EnableOpenTypeKerning/> <w:DontFlipMirrorIndents/> <w:OverrideTableStyleHps/> </w:Compatibility> <m:mathPr> <m:mathFont m:val="Cambria Math"/> <m:brkBin m:val="before"/> <m:brkBinSub m:val="--"/> <m:smallFrac m:val="off"/> <m:dispDef/> <m:lMargin m:val="0"/> <m:rMargin m:val="0"/> <m:defJc m:val="centerGroup"/> <m:wrapIndent m:val="1440"/> <m:intLim m:val="subSup"/> <m:naryLim m:val="undOvr"/> </m:mathPr></w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" DefUnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<div class="MsoNormal">When I discovered I had the opportunity to live in Brazil for 6 months, I was ecstatic.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I get go to a place I love dearly, a place I’ve known since I was 9 years old. I get to go and become even more involved in the culture – finally learn the language.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I get to do that while doing what I love … filming…. producing…. telling a story. I get the opportunity to taking another step towards the life I always imagined for myself. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">It’s exciting – but an experience like this … is also terrifying. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">My worse fear is that by month 3 – I am going to be ready to come home. I don’t want to give up on this – If I set out for 6 months I want to achieve that goal. I am up for challenge, but I can’ t remember<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the last thing I’ve done for 6 months. I’ve never even been in a relationship that lasted that long, and I was about to make a pretty huge commitment to the country of Brazil. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>In fact if anything, so much change has happened in less than 6 months during my lifetime. What’s crazy to thing about is that this inevitable change and growth is going to happen to me, in a different country. Who will I come back as? Who will I step back as in this same airport 6 months from now?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">But I have realized this – no matter who I come back as in 6 months time – I know she will be a better person than who sits here today … the girl that sits here staring at that A9 gate entrance, is scared. I already admire that girl that in 6 months will be walking out of that gate after overcoming what is sure to be the biggest challenge of her life. Ready or not, I will step on that plane knowing I am taking the first steps towards growing into that very person. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">All we are in life are the decisions we make. Sometimes you have to put all reason aside and run face first into the challenges you know are sure to come down the path you choose. But you take off at a full sprint anyway, because what will come from it is not only a better person, but a clearer path for others to follow… thus little by little making this world a little easier to walk in. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div>Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02427933893021813957noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8912489167502428615.post-6145863942113421692011-10-18T23:49:00.000-07:002011-10-18T23:56:25.814-07:00Merida - More than a check markI believe there are two types of traveling. One type is purely for tourism and adventure. Most people use this type of traveling to go to places just to satisfy your own wants and needs and check off a new place/county/city on their list. Don't get me wrong sometimes this type of traveling is exactly what I need after a hard semester - some time in the sun just soaking it all in. But you don't really get to know the place, just the comfortable amenities at your disposal.<br />
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Then there is the other form of traveling - traveling to truly get to know a place, the people, and the culture within it. This type of traveling can, at times, be the most frustrating and internally challenging experience of your life. It is far from a vacation, yet at the same time absolutely inspiring. This is the type of traveling where you come back home a different person. This traveling, I believe, my entire group is experiencing here in Merida. And after three months, will all come home being able to honestly say we know this place.<br />
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What have I learned so far? Well, first off - I was shocked to see how similar Merida is to any normal city back in the United States. I was expecting to come to a little village, live in pueblos, and listen to Marachi bands in the plaza. Driving into a big city complete with Wal-Mart and McDonald's just down the road is not at all what I expected.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNTojcXUl5-BXyaFtYMhvADBE86U8uXE8brfTpA-7hb7VJMPnvnKHSCKyqruxPPTp3lQHCh1CkrpcV3e-SRM622tXX4_7obOlsvqMqUeFZg1v6eUBBAu2rSKmucPnFHMsa0FZYRJa72Mo/s1600/IMG_0429.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNTojcXUl5-BXyaFtYMhvADBE86U8uXE8brfTpA-7hb7VJMPnvnKHSCKyqruxPPTp3lQHCh1CkrpcV3e-SRM622tXX4_7obOlsvqMqUeFZg1v6eUBBAu2rSKmucPnFHMsa0FZYRJa72Mo/s320/IMG_0429.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDZKZzwgmDjgKTR0jJSKmdIYlKGvppIQ28422uMKtNxe6T4aZdx3JAonvpeiejTBTGoB6vujjEgj7ltBqBJh0xc_7WxWKUvePNcZtP0pRhz_sbYmokhyphenhyphen9Bb_bps6jsEcYRRTuJZpIJEMU/s1600/IMG_0419.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDZKZzwgmDjgKTR0jJSKmdIYlKGvppIQ28422uMKtNxe6T4aZdx3JAonvpeiejTBTGoB6vujjEgj7ltBqBJh0xc_7WxWKUvePNcZtP0pRhz_sbYmokhyphenhyphen9Bb_bps6jsEcYRRTuJZpIJEMU/s320/IMG_0419.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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However, the shock of similarities began to diminish the more I began to learn about the uniqueness of this city. For such a large city, everything is so close. I can walk to every one of my friends in my study abroad group's houses (although some are a bit more of a hike than others). I can walk to get groceries, walk to classes, and there is even a mall and a starbucks a few streets down. The fact that everything is so close makes this huge city seem cozy and comfortable.<br />
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Also, I can walk without feeling endangered of being robbed or bothered. Sure you hear the "cat calls" every once and awhile, but I have yet to feel truly scared in Merida. In fact, more times than not, I feel more creeped out from the tranquility and quietness walking through the calm streets at night - almost wanting a car to honk or a dog to bark to break the silence.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguZNXIh3pJg03-esbSvopWs7HpdJZwsyu5yUWRrxULaI2z33optdD7C4vlnUzP79G_TpuuJdLQIRFtxTF8m4_JqrZbK31R8Cgb8SuaD0_jQj6DO39CHASMJJyvux3YrzepDa87YVoGBfo/s1600/IMG_0234.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><br />
But instead the only thing that breaks the silence is the beautiful sunrise breaking over the horizon and spreading light on the elegant city. What makes it elegant, you ask? Well picture this - you could be walking on the road of Paseo Montejo, passing Wal-mart and some pretty typical commercial buildings on your left and right... when out of nowhere pops up this huge, colorful, elegant house with the most intricate architecture perfectly preserved for years and years. As you keep walking you begin to realize there are not just one, but many, many buildings with every brick and detailed column filled to the brim with culture and elegance. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguZNXIh3pJg03-esbSvopWs7HpdJZwsyu5yUWRrxULaI2z33optdD7C4vlnUzP79G_TpuuJdLQIRFtxTF8m4_JqrZbK31R8Cgb8SuaD0_jQj6DO39CHASMJJyvux3YrzepDa87YVoGBfo/s1600/IMG_0234.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguZNXIh3pJg03-esbSvopWs7HpdJZwsyu5yUWRrxULaI2z33optdD7C4vlnUzP79G_TpuuJdLQIRFtxTF8m4_JqrZbK31R8Cgb8SuaD0_jQj6DO39CHASMJJyvux3YrzepDa87YVoGBfo/s320/IMG_0234.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE2qMUwf-j4_dSuQ86vLH9TEdt2WzTNvb-ZxdPn4wO_oR6o_5BvmjJb9L3ptzRLIvMJ7RYys26X3vm-K6F1wZE9nxHv4-MXN-Oxfo3w46KunAEusRJsbo-0dhcb4gyY1YStr8iH9MD0xI/s1600/IMG_0386.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE2qMUwf-j4_dSuQ86vLH9TEdt2WzTNvb-ZxdPn4wO_oR6o_5BvmjJb9L3ptzRLIvMJ7RYys26X3vm-K6F1wZE9nxHv4-MXN-Oxfo3w46KunAEusRJsbo-0dhcb4gyY1YStr8iH9MD0xI/s320/IMG_0386.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXO2amqjeHl2s2WICsiqa-o1OykLs359eGt1iQv_TcyFLWOICOUl_7YAfmKccKaQKoIznsx8K628Y-d4HV7HDeky0Zx4c0ttY0h1mCc5XnSgM4YuKemGzb2QvRxciDCUwr3y9LVTtyuok/s1600/IMG_0368.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXO2amqjeHl2s2WICsiqa-o1OykLs359eGt1iQv_TcyFLWOICOUl_7YAfmKccKaQKoIznsx8K628Y-d4HV7HDeky0Zx4c0ttY0h1mCc5XnSgM4YuKemGzb2QvRxciDCUwr3y9LVTtyuok/s320/IMG_0368.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Elegant, cozy, tranquil big city. So far those are the adjectives I have used to describe this one of a kind place in the world - however there is one more quality that truly sets it over the edge... friendly beyond belief. <br />
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Not too long ago, our adventures on the bus were no more successful than a chickens running around with their heads cut off. Trying to balance learning the basics public transportation while learning the geography of the city was not a good combination. However, it seemed like every time we would get lost or confused - a random stranger would go out of their way to help us out. One time a lady led our entire group all the way (it had to be at least 5 blocks out of her way) to the bus station in the Centro. Leading our group, holding her child's hand all the way... we all knew she had really gone out of her way to help out a group of random, lost Americans.<br />
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But why? Why have so many people here been patient with our lack of Spanish. Why have it been so easy to make friends. Why do I already feel as if my home stay family has become my own family.<br />
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A part of me feels as if it is sad to have to ask "why". I have seen too many times people lack the patients of foreigners visiting our country. But here it is so different. And instead of feeling out of place and an outsider everyday... I feel so welcomed.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7rKgsqqPf9mNeV3OBWyWWbNRQ3bLuwFo9lLD01Bk1qYXW8kAdrivwXtaV2vqAxMyC59cwPjnK9qU2pUQ5ZYM6yGb4qDX0RvloaMgdreIsL3yHD9rh426oRM04ux7Iw4wabEskqYHYydk/s1600/IMG_0423.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7rKgsqqPf9mNeV3OBWyWWbNRQ3bLuwFo9lLD01Bk1qYXW8kAdrivwXtaV2vqAxMyC59cwPjnK9qU2pUQ5ZYM6yGb4qDX0RvloaMgdreIsL3yHD9rh426oRM04ux7Iw4wabEskqYHYydk/s320/IMG_0423.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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At some point in our lives, we all feel like outsiders. Consider what it is like to have that feeling, be thousands of miles away from your home without friends or family, and not speak the language. Next time you see a confused Chinese family walking the streets of Tampa, or a Mexican family trying hard to translate an order at McDonalds.... give them a hand. Get to know them! You would be surprised what you can learn from them by seeing your own country through their eyes.Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02427933893021813957noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8912489167502428615.post-29900038041980031362011-10-02T22:57:00.000-07:002011-10-18T22:40:22.557-07:00A Mayan "kiss" from me to you<span style="font-family: Calibri;">My whole life, I have felt as if the Mexican half of me has always taken a back seat. My mom’s side of the family is Mexican, my grandma was born in San Luis Potosi and my mother and Tia were born in a Hispanic-influenced town of East Chicago, Indiana.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I always recognized my Hispanic heritage, but growing up in the South, away from my mom’s family, I never felt the need to make the effort to truly get to know the culture or the language. In fact, when I was little and my mom would speak to me in Spanish, I would say, “Speak right, Mommy!” </span><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">At this point in my life, I really regret the attitude I had when I was younger. Now, graduating college and having the opportunity and freedom to head down any path I choose, I decided to go on this trip before venturing on any career path. I wanted to </span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">be able to go to family reunions and be able to understand my Tios’ jokes in Spanish.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wanted to have an in depth conversation with my Grandma that didn’t involve broken Spanglish. But most of all, I wanted to have a deeper understanding of who I am - and I am a big believer that cannot happen unless you know where you come from. <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">In just the first week of being here, I felt just that - a familiarity of where I come from. My host mother and all of her friends reminded me so much of my family back at home. Little phrases would pop up that I would remember my mother saying to me, “Que te pasa, Callabasa?” Songs that my mother would sing me to sleep would start playing at local restaurants. The Virgin of Guadalupe (Virgin Mary) statues and pictures would appear in every local business, marketplace, on tops of cars… reminding me of all the Virgin of Guadalupe pictures and statues in our own house. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU8DcM1P_hQasUPM25nLDVL7jzE_DJ5gytd0qJVhL7C7nvxdgWmvm9kYs4h-BikE3JOahx1L2FsRrGl3L8HqI9AUCbocjmUZNpFNWXJ1LHIDCnGeT2HYmMvZDTlKFn4ZYK92wdqPfZhT4/s1600/IMG_9870.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU8DcM1P_hQasUPM25nLDVL7jzE_DJ5gytd0qJVhL7C7nvxdgWmvm9kYs4h-BikE3JOahx1L2FsRrGl3L8HqI9AUCbocjmUZNpFNWXJ1LHIDCnGeT2HYmMvZDTlKFn4ZYK92wdqPfZhT4/s320/IMG_9870.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I had absolutely no culture shock coming to this place, because a part of me felt like I was home. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">What I did not expect, however, was how much Mayan culture I would be learning as well. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yucatan is deeply influenced by their Mayan heritage; this came as a bit of a shock because in the United States, our Native American heritage is not used as a daily part of our lives. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But in the Yucatan, a number of people even speak Mayan. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I have enjoyed learning a few words here and there. <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Cancun – Liar of snakes</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Chi Chi – grandma<o:p></o:p></span></div><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Ko-oosh – Let’s go<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">But my absolute favorite Mayan words learned thus far, were taught to me by our tourguide Luis. The words are prounounced “Kiss” and “Wish”. “Kiss” in Mayan translates into “releasing bodily gas” … or tooting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And “Wish” translates to, simply, going pee. He said this brings a whole new meaning to the song, “We wish you a Merry Christmas.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Chichen Itza, Tulum, and Xumal are the Mayan ruin sites we have visited on this trip. Each site had very distinct qualities about them. For example, Chichen Itza is one of the largest ruins site in Yucatan. It is so vast, that it is even one of the 7 new wonders of the world. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS0SFsRm6VXG-Xk6HAi9qgCiniEMk-6VW3HlqMoJGd07qusQCgxMwweISWiyy-1ZzcrIvxPmZthwfbzia6CAz64zB_GlNyBd8p9Mdw907h9srn-m2T53JunE91D5CeV7N1ZRzPuIO1WLg/s1600/IMG_9824.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS0SFsRm6VXG-Xk6HAi9qgCiniEMk-6VW3HlqMoJGd07qusQCgxMwweISWiyy-1ZzcrIvxPmZthwfbzia6CAz64zB_GlNyBd8p9Mdw907h9srn-m2T53JunE91D5CeV7N1ZRzPuIO1WLg/s320/IMG_9824.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Tulum is a beautiful beach side Mayan ruin. Its contrasting stone temples with the deep blue ocean and various exotic plants is just breathtaking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4uReKtvNQ3_FXYWyOzwA1m_76j5vEBrF2RsV5RD39gxjBrFLJKBXJ6C_b9APzzkAcHXoONprrPhiP2NiRQ4d_9Ss-k53VWUO7opgbS2va5u_A1tOMgyAIxyUVF8LqRZEebWNAlkFGx_w/s1600/SDC17951.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4uReKtvNQ3_FXYWyOzwA1m_76j5vEBrF2RsV5RD39gxjBrFLJKBXJ6C_b9APzzkAcHXoONprrPhiP2NiRQ4d_9Ss-k53VWUO7opgbS2va5u_A1tOMgyAIxyUVF8LqRZEebWNAlkFGx_w/s320/SDC17951.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>And Xumal is smaller than Chichen Itza, but they allow you to climb on top of the pyramids and feel like Mayan rulers.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWNiufTzD7vnaRCcRN1_0MNncm-oz5IP4ODUpGGcwi7Ht2E2fzwGhihT8n0pZxGfuhdvgnJrKT4gJjiovVEfKaA_5rgSN3TBjPsi7vvSoAVokBhjUDU3ZLrDVKAqM4SWfjIjsq8rdngDc/s1600/SDC18244+%25281%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWNiufTzD7vnaRCcRN1_0MNncm-oz5IP4ODUpGGcwi7Ht2E2fzwGhihT8n0pZxGfuhdvgnJrKT4gJjiovVEfKaA_5rgSN3TBjPsi7vvSoAVokBhjUDU3ZLrDVKAqM4SWfjIjsq8rdngDc/s320/SDC18244+%25281%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Some of the more disturbing, but still equally interesting facts about Mayan life were the stories of sacrifices during that time. Human sacrifices were a part of the Mayan culture, and built in the civilizations were various stages to perform these sacrifices. Some platforms were to display the decapitated heads of enemies in war.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYq4qNJhtukSzOWQ4Jz1EepvCaaNaurpeNt8ZHyQiImv7qcO6ZIA3GAo7emZA_Tn-9nmJZNq06P6tc154jVSulVP-NvUltoei621Wtw6qCSA2dV_Ue0LniXpuWaIfI7zkM3z4LE-ILVHM/s1600/IMG_9789.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYq4qNJhtukSzOWQ4Jz1EepvCaaNaurpeNt8ZHyQiImv7qcO6ZIA3GAo7emZA_Tn-9nmJZNq06P6tc154jVSulVP-NvUltoei621Wtw6qCSA2dV_Ue0LniXpuWaIfI7zkM3z4LE-ILVHM/s320/IMG_9789.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>Others were set up for an audience to watch, in the middle of the civilizations. We passed by one statue that our tour guide told us was where they would put the heart of the person sacrificed in order to offer it to the Gods. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDUqZTayQZWjuickLvCPYKVoJKDr0Xq5ORjGDRVhL_R7xJFfGZF3tLQ1cG6YEdgmwu51dIAr0ofAXFtOQl3t58KkwKp4hJhj19REOuT_cBijVmPRLOLGF09VBaKHkuYHBr-dS2OE2dlsE/s1600/IMG_9801.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDUqZTayQZWjuickLvCPYKVoJKDr0Xq5ORjGDRVhL_R7xJFfGZF3tLQ1cG6YEdgmwu51dIAr0ofAXFtOQl3t58KkwKp4hJhj19REOuT_cBijVmPRLOLGF09VBaKHkuYHBr-dS2OE2dlsE/s320/IMG_9801.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Another common place for sacrifices were Cenotes, or underground waterholes. They don’t exist in many places in the world, but are prevalent all over Yucatan. The Mayans use to believe the Cenotes were the gateway to the underworld, which is why they assumed sacrifices into the Cenotes were holy and a direct way to the Gods. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Mayans did not associate the “underworld” with evil, only just the heavens below the ground. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7fIqUkaT6HxgzxrftYU4X7ThMD14HrZP4fbvXr2l1Ox4DFS6YfvVfGFqzskKyS813SMo15CBzLsWiLURBmGb87P-pjT5I2krdqCxueXbHwcAqnr5n_QgCBzuJ91ZiJTci_PpNAFESjSI/s1600/IMG_9803.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7fIqUkaT6HxgzxrftYU4X7ThMD14HrZP4fbvXr2l1Ox4DFS6YfvVfGFqzskKyS813SMo15CBzLsWiLURBmGb87P-pjT5I2krdqCxueXbHwcAqnr5n_QgCBzuJ91ZiJTci_PpNAFESjSI/s320/IMG_9803.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I had this in the back of my mind only a few weeks later as I was climbing down a ladder into a narrow, dark hole to a Cenote. As I climbed down, darkness followed every footstep and the sunlight above gradually became more and more distant until finally my foot touched a rocky surface. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiizsuK7Q3ai3w58dGE7qd6nirBnmHloNeEXXgGdG8OxwUW6DVygYsBLorDPRoleuQJtzLbcUcKNwpnwKvDvRYokEvOUd7CaZ1iA7x3Zd6N9Kpgn1bKkxwGyWFMbMB3X7ZT7QMc9XD5lUY/s1600/IMG_0030.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiizsuK7Q3ai3w58dGE7qd6nirBnmHloNeEXXgGdG8OxwUW6DVygYsBLorDPRoleuQJtzLbcUcKNwpnwKvDvRYokEvOUd7CaZ1iA7x3Zd6N9Kpgn1bKkxwGyWFMbMB3X7ZT7QMc9XD5lUY/s320/IMG_0030.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">After jumping down from the ladder, it took a minute or so for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. When they finally did, my eyes gazed upon an underground lake of crystal clear, true blue water.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfrPc0cHN5n3cm790mZxsFxAm9b_I59j_djGaO2crHlSROcjagt3hc1EiYD5mb8ZSjLkJeelypy_9ppHVgWPBI69qj3eT9_h5UU1QGbabP5Sv0c7kpoNS-kiWK77z_66Fng8wIhVoQBKI/s1600/IMG_0014.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfrPc0cHN5n3cm790mZxsFxAm9b_I59j_djGaO2crHlSROcjagt3hc1EiYD5mb8ZSjLkJeelypy_9ppHVgWPBI69qj3eT9_h5UU1QGbabP5Sv0c7kpoNS-kiWK77z_66Fng8wIhVoQBKI/s320/IMG_0014.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The water almost didn’t look real surrounded by the stalactites of the underground cave, like a turquoise gem in the midst of grey rocks. But we knew it was no mirage after cannon-balling off the edge of a protruding rock submersing ourselves in the refreshing, clean water. As we swam around, eyes wide open trying to take in all the beauty and make a forever mental picture; we could not help but feel as if we had discovered the fountain of youth or some equally hidden treasure. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqu_OyJF_RRrNG2Me37oPcrriq86x1zPwthdE5LL3BaDYkbrG8gN0eC_CsfOSgJUFWne60bPsoaQqVdI64ypGVTuNH5Z6wU91czsOGpAwk10JMNbrsdNpIEqQ4UhV0hupUDDNJtTuDcKk/s1600/IMG_0042.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqu_OyJF_RRrNG2Me37oPcrriq86x1zPwthdE5LL3BaDYkbrG8gN0eC_CsfOSgJUFWne60bPsoaQqVdI64ypGVTuNH5Z6wU91czsOGpAwk10JMNbrsdNpIEqQ4UhV0hupUDDNJtTuDcKk/s320/IMG_0042.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We rode back in style from the Cenote adventure, on horse pulled carts rolling on railroad tracks. It was as confusing to me as it sounds; But surprisingly fun with every bump and swift turn along the way, shifting us harshly to our left and our right – at times coming dangerously close to flipping off the tracks and into the brush around us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I feel like this mode of transportation was designed for the experience more so than the efficiency however, because every time we would come up on a cart on the same track heading the opposite way, the other people would have to hoist up their cart off the tracks, let us pass, then line it back up again. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-xa6nDcLYxoGEM5Y9V88wEEU8uRaVjQFneKfG1w-CHTmOPFycR_vSwyEWRLAMIZVwlUqi0IPBrjKQj9VatsXHhlrm22zF8zaPMYZan7vKP22hxOJnpSwUjrsor6_MhodVSKQH6_irE-w/s1600/IMG_0009.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-xa6nDcLYxoGEM5Y9V88wEEU8uRaVjQFneKfG1w-CHTmOPFycR_vSwyEWRLAMIZVwlUqi0IPBrjKQj9VatsXHhlrm22zF8zaPMYZan7vKP22hxOJnpSwUjrsor6_MhodVSKQH6_irE-w/s320/IMG_0009.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">However some things here that may seem not as efficient, are well worth the extra effort. On our last excursion, we got to watch a traditional Mayan restaurant cook meat. As we walked to the backyard of the restaurant to see the ovens, we were confused to only see a pile of dirt on the ground. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYGWiF2K3WBdiZzoSQhiL31I9GqZjxPMJT6mdYGC7HkBTse3YUfLvxmLDoswflz84qhNhrPd7Kblobw0ptg9I7edp0Ot8RXm30fO6k1v1msb9JqJYjafgtz-hqOw3mPiXd4koDDxYZAL0/s1600/IMG_0176.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYGWiF2K3WBdiZzoSQhiL31I9GqZjxPMJT6mdYGC7HkBTse3YUfLvxmLDoswflz84qhNhrPd7Kblobw0ptg9I7edp0Ot8RXm30fO6k1v1msb9JqJYjafgtz-hqOw3mPiXd4koDDxYZAL0/s320/IMG_0176.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The waiters took a shovel and started digging into dirt until hitting a metal plate. They proceeded to lift the plate, which we realized was a actually a deep dish pan, and place it on the table.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He opened it up to reveal delicious chicken cooked to perfection. Apparently cooking the meat underground with coals, savors the flavor on a whole new level… literally. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn7T-iEN1AP7IMcOA4xvC39oes5QAmy8NHLz3To7Lcvu3DEiyJKJQcfx0Aae3CgvZuUoa3vTWWkhDI0jjLoG_N5PMOKBzbE0XiQ-jAKp_MFhl8j1EFXwKYXrN9SiDi4n1Dhyphenhyphenckxim9VHo/s1600/IMG_0179.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn7T-iEN1AP7IMcOA4xvC39oes5QAmy8NHLz3To7Lcvu3DEiyJKJQcfx0Aae3CgvZuUoa3vTWWkhDI0jjLoG_N5PMOKBzbE0XiQ-jAKp_MFhl8j1EFXwKYXrN9SiDi4n1Dhyphenhyphenckxim9VHo/s320/IMG_0179.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">There are so many cultural aspects about Mexico that I am familiar with, and yet even more that are brand new and exciting. Everyday has been an adventure. No matter if we are touring the ancient civilization of Chichen Itza, or trying to catch a bus to Wal-Mart (which has proved to be a whole different type of adventure). <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But no matter what adventure is to come for the next couple months, I welcome it with an open mind and an eager hope for growth. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><em>“Adventure is a path. Real adventure – self-determined, self-motivated, often risky – forces you to have firsthand encounters with the world. The world the way it is, not the way you imagine it. Your body will collide with the earth and you will bear witness. In this way you will be compelled to grapple with the limitless kindness and bottomless cruelty of humankind – and perhaps realize that you yourself are capable of both. This will change you. Nothing will ever again be black-and-white.” – </em><a href="http://www.thehardway.com/home.htm" target="_blank"><em><strong><span style="color: black;">Mark Jenkins<br />
</span></strong></em></a></span><o:p></o:p></div>Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02427933893021813957noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8912489167502428615.post-79712659165497821372011-09-29T18:13:00.000-07:002011-10-18T22:40:22.557-07:00Beyond the Blur<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It was all a blur. Packing the night before, jamming things into my suitcase only guessing what things I might need for the next 3 months of my life in Mexico. Half of my face was swollen and numb from getting nine fillings just a few hours earlier. After sitting on my suitcase and forcing the zipper shut, I went to bed. I felt as if I had just shut my eyes when I heard the alarm go off at 4 AM, and thus I was on my way to the Tampa airport with my sister.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Still in a daze and still with a swollen face, I could hardly enjoy being switched to first class for my flight. The complimentary nuts and crackers felt like bricks to the raw side of my mouth, but sleeping came all too easy. <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">When I woke up… I was in Mexico. <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Walking off the plane, I was a little apprehensive about finding the group. I had never traveled alone to a country that doesn’t speak English before, and my Spanish was very rusty. It had been 2 years since I had taken my last Spanish Class, and I didn’t feel comfortable enough with speaking to even ask where to find the bathroom. When I finally did conjugate the verbs in my head and conjure up the courage to ask, all that came out was Portuguese.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh lord…. This was going to be harder than I thought. <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I must have been doing a good job of looking lost and confused, because an airport worker came up to me and asked me where I was going (in Spanish of course). I managed to get out the flight number of my group, and that I needed to meet up with them at the end of the terminal. He then proceeded to lead me outside; apparently I was on the complete opposite side of the airport. <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">When I finally arrived to the right terminal, they wouldn’t let me go back inside. So I called my program director and met up with her while we waited for the rest of the group. When we found the group, we all piled into a van and made our way on a weekend adventure that would eventually led to Merida, Mexcio – our new home city for the semester! <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I was very excited and felt like I could take a deep breath and enjoy the company of my fellow American students, who were going through the same language shock as I was.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But wait. The first words that came out of a student’s mouth, were in Spanish. And… huh, interesting… the response was in Spanish as well. The entire conversation among the students during our hour drive to our hotel was in Spanish, and with every word spoken… I wondered how difficult it would be to run home, brush up on a few more years of Spanish, then come back when I was good and ready. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t have this choice, however, as we pulled into our hotel in the sleepy town of Puerto Morellos. <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The next day, I was still fairly intimidated with how amazing the other student’s Spanish were. My roommate helped me go over some simple conjugations, and some new vocabulary words in the morning, but I still felt like I had a few years review to catch up on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At breakfast I learned all of the students learned Spanish on their own will. Sure, Spanish classes help – but it takes a truly determined person to discipline themselves enough to become comfortable speaking a new language. I felt disappointed in myself. Here I was, 22 years old, with all the resources in the world – yet I never took advantage of them. My grandmother was born in Mexico, my mother a native speaker, my father and sister learned it in college… and I never cared, until now, to truly learn. I was amazed how these students just up and decided one day to learn Spanish. Most of them continued learning even outside of classes, with jobs in translating or tutoring Spanish speaking children.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was so impressed. And even more than that, I was motivated. No matter what happens in these next 3 months, learning Spanish was going to be on the top of my priority list. </span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The next day we were surprised with a free snorkeling excursion! Although the town of Puerto Morellos was relaxing and very much a tranquil “sleepy town”, I was pumped for some excitement and adventure! <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We strapped on our goggles, waddled out in our flippers to the boat, and headed towards the 2<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">nd</span></sup> biggest reef in the world. As we speed through the ocean, the instructor went over the safety instructions in Spanish.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The only words I picked up were “dangerous”, “lost”, and “follow the instructor”… so I felt pretty confident!</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGKmMtDniIb-hKqAPRkH9Qi137SI71sFar9xbIU1995UymICblkYsVcJKtdP5sqqNF5dLjr9N1TuIXtCst2WMD-9G7LMChd-ZtEo7UHGtFGKR0wzFezm4x_VDDi7DYysj89o1TWEQReJc/s1600/SDC17919.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGKmMtDniIb-hKqAPRkH9Qi137SI71sFar9xbIU1995UymICblkYsVcJKtdP5sqqNF5dLjr9N1TuIXtCst2WMD-9G7LMChd-ZtEo7UHGtFGKR0wzFezm4x_VDDi7DYysj89o1TWEQReJc/s320/SDC17919.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">After jumping into the water, I plopped my head into the ocean and let my eyes focus as a beautiful word of colorful fish and coral reef came into view. As I swam over the reefs, I was amazed at the beauty. As many times as I had swam in the ocean, I could never phantom what just below me under the water. All the underwater plants were swaying in unison to the ocean current, and every now and then little critters would pop their heads out of the reef. At one point I looked right below me and saw a little Nemo fish stop mid swim and stare up at me utterly confused. We also saw some not as innocent creatures. Our guide motioned for us to come closer and peer into a dark area of the reef.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thought I saw a triangular shaped fin poking out of the area, but surely he wasn’t showing us a shark. He then proceeded to poke at the fin with his snorkel… and sure enough out swims this 3 or 4 foot cat shark. I suddenly wish I had understood more than 3 phrases in the safety instruction lecture as the cat shark slowly glided right past me. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFx_P20gs4f7qsRuaOav7ZIiKh7oIqv_f6cN4TO2YlKnhEI9vlP5kmSW3fJvcy_tXI9ijOQYT_d4LNKzqEsaSI7_8Gb9eRnmduGn_3DL89LsG7ym-52QEk5bpwYk39CvztVbrBy5q6Il4/s1600/cat+shark.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="252" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFx_P20gs4f7qsRuaOav7ZIiKh7oIqv_f6cN4TO2YlKnhEI9vlP5kmSW3fJvcy_tXI9ijOQYT_d4LNKzqEsaSI7_8Gb9eRnmduGn_3DL89LsG7ym-52QEk5bpwYk39CvztVbrBy5q6Il4/s320/cat+shark.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">(photo from google)</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">After it disappeared into the blue distance, I smiled at the thought of being within reach of my first shark. But the smiling only caused my googles to fill up with water – so I had to retreat back above the water. As I dumped out my goggles, I looked back down and tried to focus on the reef through the water, but all I could see was a brown blob that looked like mud below the surface. <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">How could something so beautiful be so unclear to see just above the water? It boggled my mind! <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I realized this is similar to my situation with Spanish. I jumped into Mexico, but was currently treading water above the surface – trying to focus on the words and try to makes sense out of them. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could either give up and sink… or put my fears aside and work hard at it, make mistakes, get frustrated, and recognize the little accomplishments until I could finally dip my head below the water to see a new world of being able to understand Spanish, and thus opening my eyes to learning about a whole new culture. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Let the Spanish Snorkeling begin! </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjDKTm1GTxjqcHGpCr3KmL8rdFoVHnjoCryfZJW4DiEoqVPx2LpLk30XdUVGELJssKZ9kW-75nmjd3R8wtmYbYtHo1kqC6DWpHCRPDSTwP6H4rjBWJOoYYteiDntwAb94CRztE1ksI4bQ/s1600/SDC17915.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjDKTm1GTxjqcHGpCr3KmL8rdFoVHnjoCryfZJW4DiEoqVPx2LpLk30XdUVGELJssKZ9kW-75nmjd3R8wtmYbYtHo1kqC6DWpHCRPDSTwP6H4rjBWJOoYYteiDntwAb94CRztE1ksI4bQ/s320/SDC17915.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div>Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02427933893021813957noreply@blogger.com1