Baptism By Heartstrings

No need for an alarm clock, I wake up to the mosque’s call to prayer “Allah, Hayalahhh” followed by dogs howling, followed by a rooster crowing. It’s 5:00AM - Welcome to Arusha, Tanzania.

Arusha is gritty and defiant and she doesn’t give a damn if you catch her picking her nose. That’s right, sister. The town pulses with a sort of primal sass. And no matter how much you try to act like a local, you cannot and will not fit in, regardless of color. I hear 'Jambo Muzungu' alot, which basically means 'Hey Whitey'. I sense annoyance of my presence at times. I get marriage proposals. The kids like to touch my hair.

I live in a house with two other volunteers. There are cement walls around the compound, two guards, a cook and a driver. In many ways it's fantastic but it feels strange to live this way, there are people living in tiny one-room homes just meters away. I carry a large packet of guilt in my pocket.

My volunteer placement is at a preschool with kids. Some are HIV positive, some not but all are angels/demons. One second they are running to you, arms outstretched, in search of a hug. And the next they are biting each other. The school is a room in a tiny home made of concrete. I teach in my bare feet. It's humbling. My favorite time is when they take their porridge break, the cups look so big in their little hands.

A few afternoons a week I volunteer at Cradle of Love, an orphanage for babies. For two hours you can play and care for up to 35 orphaned babies. And have your heart broken and filled, broken and filled over and over again. The warmth that these tiny souls give - it burns a happy little hole into your heart.

So, yes, a part of me thought that I'd make a difference. And maybe I did for an afternoon for one child for one moment. But I did learn that we should give a little something back - in someway, anyway. Volunteer for a day, donate to a cause, sponsor a kid, smile at a stranger. Pull at someone else's heartstrings and yours will be pulled back.

Quote: Often I Feel ...

Often I feel I go to some distant region of the world to be reminded of who I really am. There is no mystery about why this should be so. Stripped of your ordinary surroundings, your friends, your daily routines, your refrigerator full of your food, your closet full of your clothes -- with all this taken away, you are forced into direct experience. Such direct experience inevitably makes you aware of who it is that is having the experience. That's not always comfortable, but it is always invigorating.

- MICHAEL CRICHTON, TRAVELS

Slice of Life: Tally Me Banana

Arusha, Tanzania

African Queen

Now THIS is Africa. I’m off the overland tour and volunteering with children at a preschool in Arusha. The woman, Anna, that operates the school is HIV positive, has six children of her own and two adopted kids. Her husband and sister died of AIDS. She is strong and spirited - a real African queen.

The school is essentially a tiny concrete room in her home. It's warm and cold at the same time - we teach in our bare feet. I am out of my element as "Teacher Nico", it's a whole new world to be in front of 12 sets of big brown eyes reciting the alphabet. It's challenging and exhausting and invigorating all at the same time. I have a whole new respect for real teachers.

I'm eager to see how this time unfolds and hope I can give even just a little bit back.

Slice of Life: Elephant Crossing

Botswana, Africa

Heart of Darkness

I've only lived in Tanzania for two weeks but here are some imprints of the beautiful people and norms here.

Jambo Muzungu! - This is what I hear 30 times per day. It basically means Hey Whitey! and is often times accompanied with a giggle.

Dala Dala - The local transportation system. Essentially a large van, room for 12 yet accommodates 22. But feels like 42. I've twice had live chickens under my feet. Stepping out of it is like being birthed from the womb.

Pig Noise - Many people, especially women, made a grunting slash pig sound to clear their throats. It's a bit startling but mostly funny.

Chipati - Similar to a savory pancake. There is something so satisfyingly primal about eating with your hands.

Dancing - Just. Amazing. Witnessing some of the moves in the local bars is like watching a professional dance show. I had no idea a booty could shake vertically like that.

PDA - You will never see a male/female couple holding hands but you will see male friends walking hand in hand or arm in arm. It's cute.

It's raw here and it's like watching life in the third person at times.

Slice of Life: Three Girls

Malawi, Africa

Baptism by Pula

They say Africa gets under your skin. I'm still figuring out if that's bad like a splinter or good like a perfume. I think it's a bit of both. Africa is raw. It’s huge and heavy and real. It reminds you that you're human. It strips away the comforts and leaves you feeling vulnerable and exposed. But it makes you feel stronger because of this.

I've slept in a tent, back against the red earth, for 18 of the past 21 nights. I've been a rider on an overland tour that's taken me from Johannesburg, South Africa to Arusha, Tanzania. There are 14 others, mainly British and I'm the solo American. I hear “Yay Obama” a lot. In Buenos Aires I would go to bed at 5am but now I greet the sun from the other side. Tent packed and fed by 6am - I have twice eaten cereal under the stars. The drives are long and the showers cold, we are dirty and smelly and bruised. But we are smiling. I've been kissed with freckles by the sun.

A hippo visited our campsite the first night. He casually chomped on grass for two hours while we watched in fear and awe. This is not a zoo, there are no fences or guards, you are part of the food chain. One day we had to stop in the middle of the highway to let an elephant cross the road. An elephant. This land is wild.

In Botswana the currency is called pula - rain and the coins are called thembe - raindrops. Rain is a precious as money. I've had my fair share of it these days, setting up tents while soaked to the skin – wet and muddy but laughing.

Africa is intense and each day reveals something new. The wild animals remind you that you're fragile. The smiles remind you of what you have. And the night stars remind you that you're not alone.

Slice of Life: Mirror

Botswana, Africa

Hungry Hungry Hippos

Our first night of camping in Africa ... had a visitor.

TIA: This Is Africa

I once had a farm in Africa. Okay, no. But I've always wanted to say that.

No matter what it is – the rain, a late bus, a canceled tour, an upset stomach, increased prices – the excuse is the same: This Is Africa. It’s like a communal and continental acceptance.

I’ve only had a small slice of Africa’s pie but this is what I’ve noticed so far.

South Africa: is sprinkled with purple trees called jacarandas. So big and bright the flowers litter the street like confetti. They belong in a Dr. Suess book.

Botswana: the currency is called pula - rain and the coins are called thembe -raindrops. Because rain is as precious as money. Raindrops in your pockets.

Zambia: the people here seem to smile from their soul, it shines right through their eyes and burns a happy hole into your heart.

Malawi: is humbling, many people live in small homes made of wood and mud. Kids walk around barefoot. Their eyes are deep and dark and poetic.

Tanzania: has it’s own sky. It’s where the gods try out new colors, new sunsets and new constellations. The heavens feel a bit closer here.

Africa is a beast of a continent but it’s a beautiful one.

Slice of Life: Pride

Kruger Park, South Africa

CHAPTER 2:

AFRICA.

Adios Amor (Goodbye Argentina!)

A wink of Cupid's eye and my three months in Argentina has come to it's final day. It's been an amazing 12 weeks: sampled the Malbec nectar of the gods, sipped the bitter leaves of yerba mate, carried across the tango floor, exchanged Spanish small talk with the locals, partied until the sunrise kissed my face, captured 1,000 photos and witnessed the postcard perfect images of Iguazu and Patagonia.

I'll sneak out of this city at the wee hours like a lover slipping out of an early bed. I leave quietly and with some sadness. This place and the people in it were an absolute gift on my journey, making a sometimes hectic place feel like home. A warm embrace into the world of travel and it gave me trust in the unknown. I already miss you. My bags are packed and I now head east into the African sun.
But you've got a piece of mi corazon Buenos Aires. And you always will.

Slice of Life: Mis Amigos

Buenos Aires, Argentina

Buenos Aires 101

Land. Jet lag. See the Casa Rosada. Trip on sidewalk. Eat empanadas. Eat steak. Drink Malbec. Dance. Find apartment with other foreigners. Make local Argentine friends. Drink more Malbec. Take Spanish classes. Sound stupid. Dance more. Listen to music in the Park. Get shoulder checked in San Telmo. Try Yerba Matte. Try Fernet y Cola. Hate it. Try it again. Still hate it. Love how "Y" sounds like "Sh". Take the Subte. Get lost. Date a Porteno. See the inside of a 'telo. Go dancing until you see the sunrise. Have locals actually understand (some of) your Spanish. Have an asado. Talk with an older Porteno. Learn what "quilombo" means and use it often. Smile. Fall in love with a whole culture. Support the madres de plazo de mayo. Make fun of the mullets. Start thinking the mullets look kinda hot. Contemplate growing a mullet. Take the train to Tigre. Try to find ground pepper. Rent a bicycle. Get lost. Learn what "Rollingos" are. Heart the cheek kiss. Learn the Argentine hand gestures. Watch a Bocca Junior game. Realize that the Boca Junior fans are the craziest mofos you've ever seen. Take a Tango class. Look stupid. Take a walk through Park Palermo on a Sunday. Wish you had a big latin family. Be alone. Be with friends. Be with a lover. Be alone again. Take disco naps. Take pictures. See Bomba de Tiempo. Step in dog poop. Almost get run over by a car. Feel truly alive. Fall in deeper love with the city. Leave a piece of your heart here.

Slice of Life: Gemelos

San Telmo, Buenos Aires

Quote: When You Travel ...

I feel as though I've really been living this ...

"When you travel, you experience, in a very practical way, the art of rebirth. You confront completely new situations, the day passes more slowly, and on most journeys you do not understand the language the people speak. So you are like a child just out of the womb. You begin to attach much more importance to the things around you because your survival depends upon them. You begin to be more accessible to others because they may be able to help you in difficult situations. And you accept any small favours from the gods with great delight, as if it were an episode you would remember for the rest of your life. At the same time, since all things are new, you see only the beauty in them, and you feel happy to be alive."

- PAULO COELHO, THE PILGRIMAGE

Slice of Life: Patagonia Perfecta

Bariloche, Argentina (Dear Lake Tahoe: How do you like them apples?)

Stranger in a Strangeland

The honeymoon period has worn off a bit but I’m still in love with mi amor, Buenos Aires. But dang is he moody, one day he’s all fresh helado, flowing Malbec and slick dance moves. And the next he’s diesel fumes, catcalls and shoulder checks. My Spanish is coming along day by day, my favorite Lunfardo slang word so far: quilombo, which basically means cluster f--k. Buenos Aires has been good to me though and I’m a true fan. Some initial imprints:

Mullets & Ratails: The variety is downright impressive. Dreadlock ones, long braided ones, shorty perm-like ones, hot soccer player ones. I'm starting to want one. Yes.

PDA: The cheek kiss, men hugging without the stigma of 'looking gay', teens going to town against the nearest building wall. It’s on. All the time.

Street Music: Anywhere, anytime. Tango, lambada, cumbia, reggaeton, jazz, rock and jam bands on every other corner.

Hand Gestures: The Italian past time is in full effect here. My favorite is the criss crossing of the finger on the lips to signify keeping a secret. Or the brushing of the right hand under the chin for "no se". Two hands for "no tengo idea".

Cutsies: Um, hi, um. No I wasn’t standing in line behind the counter with things to purchase. No, go ahead. Hi.

"Que quilombo"!