Update: last night some jackass stole the tires off my bike. And I can't afford new ones. So much for that...

Hiking, Waterfalls, and Rocks

This past weekend one of my friends invited me to go hiking. Arizona is a fantastic place for hiking, or so I've been told -- I had never actually been hiking before. The one we went on was supposed to be a fairly easy and short one, so I figured I would be fine even though I'm in terrible shape.

Ahhh, not so much. Instead of walking along a smooth straight path, pretty much the whole thing involved climbing up, over, and down rocks.

Yeah, those rocks.

I thought I was going to die. It was extremely difficult for me to keep up with my friends, but somehow I managed. Mostly. However, I stopped at the first, lower, smaller waterfall rather than continuing on to the big main one with my friends. There's no way I could have made it any farther, so instead I rested in the shade, took pictures, and waited for my friends to come back.

As a result of this strenuous activity, every muscle in my body has been screaming since yesterday. Ouch! Other than that, it was actually pretty fun. Scrambling up and down rocks like that reminded me of being a kid again. Not to mention it was beautiful country. And waterfalls are always a treat.

More pictures from the hike below:








A more detailed description of my trip can be found on my Border Beat blog here.

Bikes and Monsoons

Due to a complete lack of funds, I've started riding a bike regularly. I can't afford to buy gas or pay for parking, or in two months pay rent or any other bills, so having my mom ship me her old bike and riding that to and from campus is my solution. Also, it will hopefully get me in shape and help me lose weight, while also being good for the environment. I just can't lose!

At least until some brainless 18-year-old student who is too busy texting to watch where they're going while darting around campus in their brand new shiny car that Daddy bought them hits me. And no, I'm not just being paranoid. I've only been biking for a week and that has already happened -- yesterday. If I hadn't swerved away just in time I would be road rash right now.

Anyway, other than having to watch for those idiots, there have been some drawbacks. For example, when I left class at 6:30 pm Monday it was to find that yet another monsoon had arrived and I was going to get very, very wet on my half-hour ride home. So much for the long-held belief that deserts are dry...

But just to show that every cloud (ha, ha) has a silver lining -- something good did come out of that trip. I've been carrying my camera to campus with me every day, so on this particular day since I was already soaked and knew there was no way I could avoid looking like a drowned rat by the time I made it home, I figured I might as well go with it and stop to get some photos.

I love the way the lights look on the wet pavement and had always wanted to get a shot of it, but since I was always in a car before it wasn't exactly convenient to jump out and snap a photo. Being on a bike makes it much easier. So this night I stopped and took multiple shots.

Unfortunately, as tends to happen with my photos, most of them didn't work out. I guess I just don't know enough to fiddle with all the settings and make sure they are correct for the situation.

The very first photo I took, however, did work out quite well and I love it! What do you think?

Little Cutie

My eight-month-old cousin, Severin. Pretty cute, no?

Readjustment

I've been on Tumblr for several months now, and most of the other tumblrs I follow are related to Afghanistan, as that is where my interest lies. Most are aid workers, journalists, Afghan-Americans, etc., but I did stumble upon the tumblrs of a couple of soldiers who are serving in Afghanistan that were interesting and unusual enough to add to my follow list. One of them I basically started following purely because of the relationship he has with his fiancee, as shown through their respective tumblrs. They're completely adorable and I pretty much love them just for that.

Anyway, the guy, Justin, just got back from Afghanistan a couple weeks ago, and judging by his recent entries is having a tough time readjusting. Reading these posts makes my heart go out to him, and his fiancee, because that must be an incredibly difficult experience. He's mentioned having nightmares several times, and I know from personal experience how horrific nightmares can be.

I can't possibly understand exactly what he's going through now, because his realm of experience of being in Afghanistan as part of the military is completely different from anything I've ever known, but I do recognize some of the symptoms he's mentioned.

Everyone's heard of culture shock, and it definitely does happen. I've experienced it myself. However, what everyone fails to tell you is that reverse culture shock is much more traumatic and difficult to deal with. Readjusting to the familiar can be much harder than adjusting to the different.

I've experienced this twice; first when I returned from my semester studying abroad in Denmark, and then again last year when I returned from my short trip to Afghanistan. It was much worse the second time.

Upon returning from Denmark, the biggest problem I had was that being able to understand everything being said around me was a shock. My system couldn't handle it. I'd just spent four months in a foreign country, where a foreign language is spoken and hearing an American speaking English was significant enough that you would turn around and look if you did hear one. Other than that, and a few other small differences, there wasn't much of a problem. Denmark wasn't really all that different from the U.S., comparatively.

However, returning from Afghanistan was much, much harder. It's odd, really. The visit was relatively uneventful, no traumatic events, major catastrophes, or even terribly emotional aspects. Completely unlike what I imagine Justin's experience in Afghanistan was and a fraction of the length. Yet I had a hell of a time readjusting to my life here.

I kept getting angry -- completely, irrationally, over-the-top angry -- over the smallest little things. Things that I barely even would have noticed before, yet now I would completely blow my stack over. This happened constantly, pretty much every day for the next five months or so. I was argumentative, bitchy, rage-filled, moody, impatient, rude -- all sorts of things that usually don't apply to me (well, to be honest I can be bitchy and/or moody sometimes, but not usually to this extent).

I started having trouble at work and then getting in trouble at work. My boss spoke to me several times, but I just couldn't seem to control it. I was working as a caterer and kitchen worker at the time, which was not good because a large part of my job was dealing with customers. Bad job to have when you can't keep a lid on your temper.

Once I realized what was going on -- it's surprising how difficult to even realize at the time that this sort of behavior is abnormal, usually I don't recognize culture shock or depression or whatever until after it's over -- I started analyzing what was going on and why.

I realized that after my trip to Kabul, seeing how people's lives have been torn apart by war, how starvation is a daily threat, how those people have nothing yet manage to live their lives, it was difficult to come back and care about whether the lemonade pitcher was full for the guests at an anniversary party or if they had ran out of appetizers or had enough napkins. I had seem people live in shipping containers, tents made out of leftover tarps scavenged from the garbage with no heat, no electricity, barely enough food to survive, nothing. Where heaps of garbage line the streets, where kids beg for food to feed their families, where refugees from Kandahar and Helmand try to eke out a miserable existence in IDP camps outside the city. Sorrow and misery seemed to be everywhere. Then after all that I came back to this land of excess and overindulgence and it infuriated me.

It all just seemed so unimportant, and I couldn't make myself care. I was desperate to get back to Afghanistan, where things seemed to make sense, where I could make a difference and do something to help.

Eventually, however, I realized that I wasn't going to be able to return to Afghanistan. I was leaving for grad school at the end of the summer, so moving abroad clearly wasn't an option.

Gradually the fits of rage faded and then stopped completely. I went back to my usual laid-back self and life returned mostly to normal.

For me, the readjustment period was short yet brutally difficult. I'm afraid that for Justin it will last much longer, maybe even the rest of his life, and is undoubtedly much worse than it was for me.

Blowing Bubbles

My sister blowing bubbles for my 5-year-old cousin Ava to chase at my parents' house in Georgia last month.

Ancient Reflections

Fenced Flowers

Chicago

The Chicago Theater

I just read a post on a blog I follow asking which destination would be a good weekend getaway: LA, Vegas, or Chicago. I've never been to the other two but as I've mentioned before, I have spent a great deal of time in Chicago. I even lived there one summer in college while interning at World Book Encyclopedia. The internship was rather unmemorable, but I loved living in Chicago!

Thinking about Chicago has made me nostalgic for "my" city, which I would love to visit again, as well as all my friends who still live there. In honor of my old Chicago home, here are some old pictures from my many trips there over the past eight years.

Chinatown


Random building near Millennium Park

Michigan Ave. down by the parks


One of my favorite things about Chicago: the Bean!


A Bean tradition


The lobby of the Palmer House Hilton, an iconic Chicago hotel, at Christmastime.

Sandstorm

This morning when I got on facebook, there was a message on my wall from one of my high school friends asking if I was affected by the large sandstorm. My reaction was, "huh?"

I had no idea what she was talking about. So I got on the local paper's website and browsed the headlines to see if there was anything about a sandstorm. Nothing.

Then I branched out and did a google news search.

Bingo! I found this:

The Phoenix Haboob of July 5th, 2011 from Mike Olbinski on Vimeo.

HOLY. CRAP.

I haven't been in Arizona very long, so needless to say this is my first glimpse of a sandstorm. All I can say is, I'm rather disappointed to have missed out on something this awesome and scary, yet relatively harmless.

Another joy of life in the Arizona desert is monsoon season. While we might have missed out on this lovely bit of desert living Tuesday, we were fortunate enough to experience another aspect of it on Monday afternoon: a monsoon!

I've been here long enough to expect nothing less than blue skies and sun all day every day, so needless to say these storms are surprisingly violent and regular. Also, after it rains the roads flood to the point where you feel like you're driving through a lake. To a midwestern girl who had the mantra "Never ever EVER drive through a flooded road because your car will be swept away and you will DIE" pounded into her head since birth, this can be a little nerve-wracking.

Offerings

Offerings left at the shrine dedicated to the "apparitions of the blessed virgin mother of God at the Grotto of Lourdes" at the Mission San Xavier del Bac in Arizona.

Don't Blink!

This is a somewhat creepy statue at Tohono Chul Park. I'm not embarrassed to admit that statues freak me out. Don't blink!

Clothes I Wish I Could Afford

As usual, Anthropologie's June catalog features even more clothes I love but could never afford.



Summer Ballad Maxi

I love the romantic, flowing drape of the dress, and the color's pretty as well.



BCBGeneration Lamour Pumps

I found these on Ebay yesterday and was insanely tempted to buy them on the spot but, sadly, my finances will definitely not allow it. Also, there's the small fact that even if I owned them I most likely would never wear them. Sigh.

Cactus Star

Dome and Flower

San Xavier Weekend

This has been a good weekend for me. Not only did I spend the week getting lots of photography and journalism practice, but this weekend capped it off perfectly. Yesterday my friend Britain and I spent the afternoon at the Mission San Xavier del Bac, which is a National Historic Landmark.

The actual building dates back to 1797 but the mission was founded in 1692. It is located on the San Xavier Reservation, which is part of the reservation for the Tohono O’odham nation, located just south of Tucson. The mission is apparently considered to be the “finest example of Spanish Colonial architecture in the United States” (www.sanxaviermission.org).

Regardless, it’s a beautiful structure both inside and out, with an unusual and intriguing mix of Catholic, Spanish, and Tohono O’odham (Native American) influences.

Light a Candle

Stories to Tell

“So many people are shut up tight inside themselves like boxes, yet they would open up, unfolding quite wonderfully, if only you were interested in them.”

-- Sylvia Plath

This is what I'm discovering in journalism school. Even stopping random people on the street can be fascinating. People are diverse, and interesting, and everyone's got a story to tell.

I was published in a major national newspaper!

I got published by the New York Times!!!!!!!!

It's not an actual piece of journalism, unfortunately, although that would have been too awesome for words.

Remember the scholarship essay I published below? There was an article in the New York Times Travel section a few weeks ago asking for readers to submit short essays about why they travel, and since my essay was on a similar theme, I figured what the hell.

So I submitted it.

Then this week I got an email from the Travel desk telling me that my essay, along with several others, had been chosen out of almost 400 to be published! An edited version of my essay will be in the print version of the Travel section of the Times this Sunday. It can also be found on the NY Times website here.

FYI, it's the fourth and last one, titled (not by me), "At Home in Kabul." And this is an edited version of what I submitted, which is the same as shown several posts earlier on this blog.

Tumblr

I just started a tumblr. I'm not entirely sure what they are called, so I'm just calling it my tumblr. I recently heard that it is taking over the social media empire, so I figured I should get in on it. Social media is becoming an important part of journalism. For several of my classes I've been required to tweet and/or keep a blog. I actually have two blogs, a facebook account, and a Twitter account. I'm just adding this to the lot.

http://kelseywanderer.tumblr.com/

Check it out!

Update

Didn't get the internship. Still waiting to hear if I got funding for the Dari language program. Most likely stuck here all summer, taking classes and (hopefully) working. Boo.

Traveler's Paradise

Or it would be if it weren't for that pesky little war...

Scholarship Essay

So...I filled out my FAFSA and submitted it today, which then led me to search out scholarships in a vain attempt to assuage my ever increasing debt from student loans. Unfortunately, even though I have no money I don't qualify for very many scholarships. About the only one I could find was from some random company of business consultants.

I'm not actually sure it applies to me, either, due to the rather vague description which reads:

"The A&F Scholarships are available to all high school juniors and seniors as well as all students currently registered in any accredited post secondary institution."

I presume that includes graduate students?

Well, I plan to enter anyway. All that it requires is an essay, written to answer this question:

"What have you done outside of the classroom that demonstrates qualities sought after by universities or other educational facilities? Of these, which means the most to you?"

My answer? Keep reading to find out. And please, let me know what you think!

The girls stared shyly at us, sneaking peeks whenever they thought we weren't looking. Our tour guide explained who we were and why we were there, then started asking questions of the class. When he asked what each girl wanted to be when she grew up, the answers surprised me. Most answered that they wanted to be a teacher, and many specified that they wanted to teach English. Other common responses were journalists and lawyers, and one particularly ambitious student even answered, “a politician.” The most remarkable part of these answers was that they were coming from young girls in Afghanistan, who for the first time were able to dream about having a life of their own choosing, instead of one chosen for them by their families.

In March of 2010 I spent ten unforgettable days in Kabul, Afghanistan as part of an educational trip to explore issues facing women there. As part of that trip we visited a school for girls run by an Afghan non-profit organization. There are 120 students at that particular school, with a long waiting list of parents who want an education for their daughters. Contrary to the opinion held by most people, Afghan parents want their children, including their daughters, to have every opportunity -- just like all parents the world over.

The main reason why I chose to go on this trip to a war zone was to see the other side of the story, to find situations like this. I knew there had to be more to the country than the war that is currently being waged there, and I wanted to see it firsthand. Everything I found in Kabul confirmed this belief. The Afghan people are the friendliest, most welcoming and gracious hosts anyone could imagine.

When I decided that I wanted to travel to Afghanistan, it was only after taking into account all of the risks associated with such a trip. Of course, it didn't help that there were two suicide attacks in Kabul a mere two days before we were supposed to fly out of the U.S. Making that decision, balancing the possible risks with the possible benefits, was quite possibly the most difficult choice I've ever had to make, but in the end I decided that the benefits definitely outweighed the risks.

Once I made the decision to go, then came all the details. And there were a LOT of details. I had to get multiple vaccinations, harangue the organization I was traveling with until they supplied me with all the necessary information needed to make all these arrangements, apply for a visa from the Afghan embassy in Washington, D.C., book my flights, including the flight from Dubai to Kabul that had to be booked separately from the rest of the itinerary, convince my family that this was the right decision and reassure them that I probably wasn't going to die, buy appropriate clothes and travel accessories, find travel insurance that would cover travel to a war zone, and ultimately provide for every contingency I could think of. Getting all of these done in less than a month was an almost Herculean task that required great persistence and efficiency on my part while sucking up all of my spare time.

However, once I stepped foot outside the airport in Kabul and actually saw the city and started to meet people, all of the effort and hard work it had taken to get there faded from my mind, as well as any residual fear of what might happen. I felt like I had come home. I adjusted to the different culture and strange city surprisingly quickly. If I experienced culture shock, it was mild enough not to leave a lasting impression. Before I went on this trip I had toyed with the idea of going into a career in aid and development work but wasn't really sure if it was a good fit for me. After visiting Afghanistan, I knew without a doubt that that was what I wanted to do. I love traveling, and I have no trouble adapting to new situations and cultures, not to mention extremely different living conditions from what I'm used to.

Every day in Kabul was crammed full of meetings with people, from women's rights activists to Members of Parliament to the director of a reconciliation organization that works to convince Taliban members to leave the Taliban and come over to the government. I took copious amounts of notes and tried to learn as much as I could. However, the most important lesson I learned in Afghanistan was that the more I learned, the less I understood. Afghan culture is complex and rooted in thousands of years of tradition. No outsider will understand it easily, or maybe even completely. There will be no easy solution to the situation there. But that doesn't mean that we should stop trying.

Photos from my trip to Afghanistan, March 1-10, 2010

I Really Want This Internship

I really want this internship. I really, really want this internship. I didn't think I would want this internship this badly, but I really want this internship.

I want to spend the summer in DC. I want to work in an office environment where I can wear nice clothes. I want to do something that makes a difference. I want to jump-start my life, or at least my career. I want to work for an organization that helps people, that makes a difference in the world. I want to meet new people. I want to be a tourist and visit all those "our nation's capital" memorials and museums and shrines. I want to see my friends who live there. I want to be able to at least pretend there's a possibility of me getting a job when I graduate. I want to believe I'll be able to work in the field I want to when I graduate. I want to tell myself that I'll make it to Afghanistan soon, that I'll find a job that will take me there and that this internship will help.

I don't particularly want to spend two to three months living on my friend's couch, or to be away from my cats (i.e. my babies) for a whole summer, or to be paying rent and utilities here while I'm living there, but I still really want this internship.

Mostly because it will fool me into believing that I might have a job offer waiting form me this time next year if I get this internship and it goes well. Or at least I'll have some experience to offer other potential employers.

I really want this internship.

Deep and Inscrutable

The Naming of Cats

The Naming of Cats is a difficult matter,
It isn't just one of your holiday games;
You may think at first I'm as mad as a hatter
When I tell you, a cat must have THREE DIFFERENT NAMES.
First of all, there's the name that the family use daily,
Such as Peter, Augustus, Alonzo or James,
Such as Victor or Jonathan, or George or Bill Bailey -
All of them sensible everyday names.
There are fancier names if you think they sound sweeter,
Some for the gentlemen, some for the dames:
Such as Plato, Admetus, Electra, Demeter -
But all of them sensible everyday names.
But I tell you, a cat needs a name that's particular,
A name that's peculiar, and more dignified,
Else how can he keep up his tail perpendicular,
Or spread out his whiskers, or cherish his pride?
Of names of this kind, I can give you a quorum,
Such as Munkustrap, Quaxo, or Coricopat,
Such as Bombalurina, or else Jellylorum -
Names that never belong to more than one cat.
But above and beyond there's still one name left over,
And that is the name that you never will guess;
The name that no human research can discover -
But THE CAT HIMSELF KNOWS, and will never confess.
When you notice a cat in profound meditation,
The reason, I tell you, is always the same:
His mind is engaged in a rapt contemplation
Of the thought, of the thought, of the thought of his name:
His ineffable effable
Effanineffable
Deep and inscrutable singular Name.

T S Elliot

Vintage Jade

When it comes to style and fashion, I'm pretty much clueless. If I like something, I'll wear it, but not without an immense amount of staring in the mirror and deliberating the relative fashionable-ness of it (or not).

Considering that for the past few years I've been buried in a small rural town in Illinois working in a kitchen, I've paid even less attention to fashionable clothes than usual. As a result, on the off chance that I do manage to get that internship in Washington, DC this summer, I realized that I won't have any appropriate work clothes to wear. Any that I already own are from my last year of college or earlier, which puts them firmly out of style. This has led me to do quite a bit of research on style/clothes/fashion trends over the past few days. I'm out of practice when it comes to business casual, office-appropriate outfits so I've been trying to remedy that through internet research.

Unfortunately, due to my limited (or more accurately, non-existent) budget, even if I do get the internship and head out for some shopping, at best I would be able to buy a few items and only for extremely reduced prices. But with me being me, that hasn't stopped me from admiring and dreaming! During the course of my research I've come across quite a few separate pieces as well as complete outfits that immediately had me salivating.

Oh, to be rich...

The outfit below is one of them. I love absolutely everything about this dress, from the rich vivid green to the asymmetrical draping across the chest to the traditional tea length. I also love the choice of shoes. Paired with this dress, the shoes add to the classic 1930's feel of the outfit. That happens to be a period I adore stylistically, so everything about this looks appeals to me.

Vino

This is what I need right now. I've been having the week from hell, and it only looks to get worse as the countdown to the end of the term gets closer.

Bad Dreams

"I could be bounded in a nutshell, and count myself a king of infinite space, were it not that I have bad dreams."

-- Hamlet

For Love of Anthropologie

I've recently become enamored of the monthly catalogs sent out by Anthopologie. I accidentally got several in the mail last fall, addressed to a previous tenant of my apartment. Before then, I had never seen one of their catalogs and therefore never before realized how utterly amazing they are.

Anthropologie is the only commercial clothes line I know of that turn their catalog and photos into works of art, instead of merely showcasing their products. I ended up subscribing to receive their catalog because I love looking through it so much.

I've never ordered anything from it, and I doubt I will any time in the near future, simply because of the extravagant prices, but I love a lot of what they have almost as much as I love the way they photograph it.

I particularly like the retro, old Hollywood glamour look they've got going on in the current April catalog. Check out these photos from this issue below to see what I mean.

Mompos Dress
$228

Natalie One-Piece
$158
(I absolutely adore this suit -- it makes me wish I had an extra $160 lying around!)



Grand Coast Cover-Up
$648

Luminescent Top
$88

Chai and Smiles

When I think of my trip to Afghanistan last year, these are the two lasting impressions that come to mind. Everywhere we went we were greeted with welcoming smiles, invited to sit down and warm ourselves by the stove, and had endless cups of chai (tea) pressed on us. Afghan culture is famous for its' hospitality, and with every visit we made it became more abundantly clear just how well deserved that reputation is. Afghanistan is a beautiful country, and the people are the friendliest, most gracious hosts I've ever had the good fortune to visit.

Before I left for Kabul, all my impressions of Afghanistan came from the news, and all of them were negative. Most news coming out of Afghanistan is about the ongoing war or terror attacks, such as the double bombings of a guesthouse and hotel two days before I was due to leave for Afghanistan (ultimately one person signed up for the trip ended up canceling after news of this attack reached us).

I'll admit, this bombing coming so soon before I was to leave and targeting a guesthouse very similar to the one I would be staying at in Kabul did cause me to stop and reconsider my options, but eventually I decided that what I stood to gain outweighed any possible risk. I left home and headed to Kabul as scheduled; now looking back I am more convinced than ever that I made the right decision.

I met up with the rest of my group in Dubai, and we finally arrived in Kabul after more than two grueling days of nonstop travel. There were twelve of us in all, ranging in age from 25 to 77 and in careers from botany to law. We had all come to Kabul for different reasons, but once there we were united by the unique experience of being strangers in a strange land.

Our welcome to this peculiar new world came when we stepped off the plane to go through customs and all the women donned headscarves before we even caught a glimpse of the city we would call home for the next ten days.

That headscarf quickly became the bane of my existence, as I quickly proved incapable of keeping it on. There is an art to it that Muslim women must spend their entire lives perfecting. I spent the first few days constantly rearranging it, pulling it back up as it slipped off, trying different ways of draping it, and eventually just holding it up. About halfway through the trip, however, I started to figure out some of the tricks to keeping the scarf up over my head, as well as a better way of wearing it. And by the time I left I had become so accustomed to wearing a headscarf that I would catch myself starting to slip it over my head every time I headed outside for several weeks after returning home.

Most Westerners see headscarves as a symbol of the oppression of women, forced on them by a heavily patriarchal conservative Muslim culture, but I think that there is much more to the issue than simply this. It might be naïve of me, but one thing I noticed is that in Kabul at least, a headscarf has many practical applications. There were times that I was actually grateful to have it on—and it also wasn't uncommon to see men on the street wearing a scarf draped around their head as well. Part of the reason for this is because Kabul is infamously dusty and polluted, and often both men and women on the street would be walking with their scarf held over their nose and mouth. By the time we left, the dust was getting to me and I unconsciously found myself doing this as well.

Learning the unfamiliar art of the headscarf would be just the first of many new and unusual experiences waiting for me in this vibrant and chaotic city, and each served as a reminder to me that other ways of living are merely different, not necessarily better or worse.