I spent a long time trying to decide what I wanted to write about today- there is a lot going on in the world at large and in my world in general. Did I focus on the amazing miracle that entered the world a few weeks ago, the loss that my family suffered yesterday, the March last weekend, or the fear that I am feeling under this new administration. As I swirled all these things around in mind I decided that I wanted to talk about it all and how I am handling them.
The last few weeks have been pretty rough for me. It started on the 13th, when I had one of the worst days I've ever had at work which continued into the next week where each day had another fire - until I ended up coming home from work in tears on Wednesday and didn't leave the office until 10pm on Thursday the 19th. I was at my wits end, I was exhausted, I was at a lost for how to handle all the problems, and when my co-worker accused me of being terrible at my job - it was the straw that broke the camel's back. It didn't help that I live in DC and the weight of the inauguration was bearing down on the city as I was being dealt blow after blow. Each morning I woke up still stressed from the day before and desperately trying to prepare for whatever may happen that day while wading through the trepidation that was descending on the city as the inauguration got closer and closer. On my commute into the city, I would send my "3 things" email to my girlfriends (we send each other 3 things that are happening in our life each day of the work week), and mine felt like depressing re-caps of all the disasters. In response, they would each send me so much love - this became my buoy that got me into work each morning. Once there I did the best I could, I reached out to colleagues and mentors, I messaged friends when I felt defeated, and I got so much love and respect back and garnered strength from all those positive vibes. I stood up and faced each challenge and I stood up to the unruly coworker - I would not be bullied, I would not be beaten.
On Friday, I woke up exhausted but felt like I made it through. Only to realize that I now had to face the inauguration. I did what any sane person, who had just made it through the week from hell would do, I snuggled up on the couch with Byron and watched The Bachelor, Troop Beverly Hills, and Independence Day, ordered Dominos, and made signs for the March on Saturday. Sitting around in my living room with LC and K, I let myself get lost in the joy of crafting and being with good friends. I was excited and nervous for what Saturday would bring - would the demonstration be threatened or would it be respected?
We left at 7am and were in place at 8am, it was a peaceful and uniting day. I felt empowered by all the people out there with me, I felt strong, I felt the love. There was anger, but moreover the sentiments were love and a kinship that together we could survive whatever may come after this. And that is exactly what I want those who didn't understand why I was marching, or who thought I was pouting because my candidate lost, or who just thought I am an angry feminist out there stomping my feet when "women already are equal," to have as a takeaway. Please understand that this wasn't a temper tantrum, this was about us uniting in love and solidarity, standing up to say that we will not be silent. The reality is, if women were actually equal: we would have equal pay; little girls would not, by the age of six, assume that the smart person in a story is a boy; we would be able to walk down the street and not have to worry about being harassed; we would not be treated like offenders when we reported a sexual assault; and we would not have a president who thinks locker room talk is okay.
So yes, there is a lot to be angry about, and I am, but I am trying not to lead with my anger - because there is already too much anger and hatred in the world. Instead, I want to lead with love: love for those who are struggling right now - I will support you however I can; love for those that are scared and confused - I am with you and you are not alone; love for those who are being harmed - I will give you my ear if you need to scream and I will give you my voice to help you be heard; and love for those who don't understand why I am upset and concerned - I hope my love inspires empathy and understanding to blanket your anger.
Love doesn't make me soft and weak in my fight for this cause, love makes me strong. Love helps me get up after yet another shitty day, it helps me stand taller when you try and push me down, it helps me find compassion instead of hatred, it helps me remember that there is more to this world than this moment and we will get through to tomorrow. So as the year marches forward and we continue to face new challenges and hardships, please remember to be gentle with yourself and with others - and make Love, not anger, your battle cry - there is already enough anger and not nearly enough love.
Sunday, January 29, 2017
Monday, January 16, 2017
Remember That Time...Travel Snafus
As previously discussed, I love to travel and over the years I have realized that the mishaps and disasters from my trips are usually my favorite stories from the trip (see my first blog about Peru!). So today, I wanted to share two more of my favorite travel snafus with two of my favorite people.
First up, Europe! The summer between my freshman and sophomore year of college I backpacked Europe with my high school best friend, K. We planned an ambitious itinerary of visiting 6 countries in 3 weeks, and managed to make it through 4 countries and over 2 weeks without any major hiccups or squabbles - that is until we got to Rome and I contemplated murdering her. We had successfully been navigating the various metro systems without error and so we got on the metro to head to the Colosseum with minimum hassle and perhaps too much confidence. It was mid-afternoon in the middle of July, the train was packed as it was sweltering outside and everyone in the city seemed to be heading home to escape the heat. We were crammed in like sardines and she and I stuck close to the door since we only had a few stops to go, as we neared our stop we suddenly realized that we didn't if we had to signal that we wanted to stop and open the doors or if the train would just stop. We started going back and forth as to what we needed to do and some helpful gentleman chimed in that we just needed to pull the red chord. This didn't seem right and the helpful gentleman didn't look too helpful to me but K. was already reaching for it and pulling the chord. Rapid Italian immediately started crackling over the speakers and the train stopped alright, it stopped in the middle of the tracks. What little air conditioning had been eeking out of the vents quickly disappeared and an entire car of people were now turned and very focused on K. and me. The helpful gentleman made his way to the other side of the car and the conductor was now making his way from car to car to check what the emergency was to pull the emergency stop. I was starting to panic as I knew this was an offence that carried a fine in the states and was conveying this to K. only to watch her slither away from the red handle that she had just so quickly grasped. As she made her way further from the scene of the crime she started to laugh nervously and turned to me and exclaimed- "Don't look at me, you pulled it!" Just as I raised my arm and pointed at her accusingly. As all eyes on the car swung between the two of us the conductor arrived in the car. Surprisingly the so-called gentleman gave him some sort of excuse in more rapid Italian and after a sweaty 15-minute delay our car began moving again. We got off at the next stop, which turned out not to be the Colosseum and hoofed it another 15 minutes in sweltering mid-afternoon heat to the ruins. Although I didn't murder her, I had a few visions of pushing her off the top of the Colosseum. Our friendship is still in tact and whenever the opportunity presents itself, I thoroughly enjoy bringing this story up as prime example of her loyalty and ability to stay, calm, cool, and collected.
Now onto Asia, where I was traveling with my current travel buddy C. We have known each other since high school and had a couple of small trips together under our belt before heading for 2.5 weeks in Southeast Asia. We had a great time exploring Thailand and Cambodia, and had just settled into our last leg in Vietnam when we encountered our first mishap. We had arrived with a tour group and while everyone else went on a bike tour of the city we went to get massages - because we were ready to start the luxury part of our vacation and had decided to get a massage everyday until we headed home. We checked with the hotel desk to recommend a reputable spot and headed over. We got there and I was escorted back to my room. Immediately alarm bells started ringing - the room had a very different feel than the other parlors we had visited - but this was the first one we had been to in Vietnam so I decided to put my unease aside and prepared to relax. My masseuse came in and the first thing I noticed were her very high platform heels - not exactly the expected footwear of someone who spends her days on her feet - but who am I to judge?! And so I let her begin what will go down as the most awkward massage I have ever had. She gently rubbed my back with baby oil for 30 minutes, walked on it for 10 (sans the shoes), and then pressed on my feet for another 10 minutes before rubbing some oil in my hair and announcing I was done. Like I said - awkward. Before leaving the room she told me I could rinse off in the shower and demanded I give her the tip. At this point, I am not willing to step into that shower as I am questioning a lot of things about this place so I get dressed and head to the lobby to wait for C. who went in after me. Imagine my surprise when I find him waiting for me in the lobby. I approach him and am about to voice my concerns when he grabs my arm and yanks me down the stairs. Once outside and sufficiently away from the building C. stops and looks me dead in the eye and says "I had to leave - she tried to undress me!" Turns out he had been waiting for me for 50 minutes as his masseuse didn't believe he just wanted a massage. The further we got from the parlor the harder we laughed that we made it through Bangkok without this kind of problem but our first stop in Vietnam was such a misstep. It is one of our favorite stories to share after a few drinks and he enjoys ending it with "But Kara, why in the hell did you stay for the full 50 minutes?!" To that I say, because I had already paid!
So remember, what may seem like the worst part of your trip may just end up being the most memorable. And even if it isn't remember to laugh, even at the worst moments; because if you are laughing then it will probably be even funnier after some time passes!
First up, Europe! The summer between my freshman and sophomore year of college I backpacked Europe with my high school best friend, K. We planned an ambitious itinerary of visiting 6 countries in 3 weeks, and managed to make it through 4 countries and over 2 weeks without any major hiccups or squabbles - that is until we got to Rome and I contemplated murdering her. We had successfully been navigating the various metro systems without error and so we got on the metro to head to the Colosseum with minimum hassle and perhaps too much confidence. It was mid-afternoon in the middle of July, the train was packed as it was sweltering outside and everyone in the city seemed to be heading home to escape the heat. We were crammed in like sardines and she and I stuck close to the door since we only had a few stops to go, as we neared our stop we suddenly realized that we didn't if we had to signal that we wanted to stop and open the doors or if the train would just stop. We started going back and forth as to what we needed to do and some helpful gentleman chimed in that we just needed to pull the red chord. This didn't seem right and the helpful gentleman didn't look too helpful to me but K. was already reaching for it and pulling the chord. Rapid Italian immediately started crackling over the speakers and the train stopped alright, it stopped in the middle of the tracks. What little air conditioning had been eeking out of the vents quickly disappeared and an entire car of people were now turned and very focused on K. and me. The helpful gentleman made his way to the other side of the car and the conductor was now making his way from car to car to check what the emergency was to pull the emergency stop. I was starting to panic as I knew this was an offence that carried a fine in the states and was conveying this to K. only to watch her slither away from the red handle that she had just so quickly grasped. As she made her way further from the scene of the crime she started to laugh nervously and turned to me and exclaimed- "Don't look at me, you pulled it!" Just as I raised my arm and pointed at her accusingly. As all eyes on the car swung between the two of us the conductor arrived in the car. Surprisingly the so-called gentleman gave him some sort of excuse in more rapid Italian and after a sweaty 15-minute delay our car began moving again. We got off at the next stop, which turned out not to be the Colosseum and hoofed it another 15 minutes in sweltering mid-afternoon heat to the ruins. Although I didn't murder her, I had a few visions of pushing her off the top of the Colosseum. Our friendship is still in tact and whenever the opportunity presents itself, I thoroughly enjoy bringing this story up as prime example of her loyalty and ability to stay, calm, cool, and collected.
Now onto Asia, where I was traveling with my current travel buddy C. We have known each other since high school and had a couple of small trips together under our belt before heading for 2.5 weeks in Southeast Asia. We had a great time exploring Thailand and Cambodia, and had just settled into our last leg in Vietnam when we encountered our first mishap. We had arrived with a tour group and while everyone else went on a bike tour of the city we went to get massages - because we were ready to start the luxury part of our vacation and had decided to get a massage everyday until we headed home. We checked with the hotel desk to recommend a reputable spot and headed over. We got there and I was escorted back to my room. Immediately alarm bells started ringing - the room had a very different feel than the other parlors we had visited - but this was the first one we had been to in Vietnam so I decided to put my unease aside and prepared to relax. My masseuse came in and the first thing I noticed were her very high platform heels - not exactly the expected footwear of someone who spends her days on her feet - but who am I to judge?! And so I let her begin what will go down as the most awkward massage I have ever had. She gently rubbed my back with baby oil for 30 minutes, walked on it for 10 (sans the shoes), and then pressed on my feet for another 10 minutes before rubbing some oil in my hair and announcing I was done. Like I said - awkward. Before leaving the room she told me I could rinse off in the shower and demanded I give her the tip. At this point, I am not willing to step into that shower as I am questioning a lot of things about this place so I get dressed and head to the lobby to wait for C. who went in after me. Imagine my surprise when I find him waiting for me in the lobby. I approach him and am about to voice my concerns when he grabs my arm and yanks me down the stairs. Once outside and sufficiently away from the building C. stops and looks me dead in the eye and says "I had to leave - she tried to undress me!" Turns out he had been waiting for me for 50 minutes as his masseuse didn't believe he just wanted a massage. The further we got from the parlor the harder we laughed that we made it through Bangkok without this kind of problem but our first stop in Vietnam was such a misstep. It is one of our favorite stories to share after a few drinks and he enjoys ending it with "But Kara, why in the hell did you stay for the full 50 minutes?!" To that I say, because I had already paid!
So remember, what may seem like the worst part of your trip may just end up being the most memorable. And even if it isn't remember to laugh, even at the worst moments; because if you are laughing then it will probably be even funnier after some time passes!
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| Proof K. & I made it to the Colosseum! |
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