you got to be somewhere.

Even if it is being stuck at the airport for 7 hours;
or on a boat in the rain;
or on an island in the Caribbean.

Here is a little bit about one of my favorite persons in this world.

Tyler and Sarah

I heard the expression last weekend while attending my dear friends Sarah and Tyler's wedding in Maryland.  Her dad made a small speech during their lovely Quaker wedding ceremony about the origin of this expression, and how Sarah had used it since then.  He said that  he first heard it decades ago while stuck on a boat in the rain that he knew that it was profound.  But he didn't really know what it meant at the time.  He just knew that it was profound.  He said it often to his family, and now it's in the family. 

When Sarah was in the Dominican Republic for several years, at times she probably felt that time went by really slowly.  She was working with HIV patients, specifically mothers and their children that were infected.  It was difficult and emotional work.  Then something happened.  She met Tyler while working at the hospital.  It changed her life.

She sent her parents a postcard with a photo of Tyler and her, and at the back it just said, "You got to be somewhere."
When her parents saw that post card, they knew right away what it meant.

After the wedding, a bunch of us were stuck at BWI for 6-7 hours due to really bad storms.  Even the bride and groom were there, as they are heading up to Acadia for their honeymoon.  It was great to be able to hang out with them again, and time passed by relatively quickly at the airport as we read through every single magazine we owned and played crossword puzzles as a group.  Then the flight got delayed again, and then again..  We were all somewhat frustrated.  But then Sarah turned around and gave me a big smile and said, "you got to be somewhere!"

Always the optimist, Sarah.  Always willing give it all, no matter how many obstacles may be in front of you.  Always willing to give second chances because you believe that it will get better.  Always with a purpose.  That's what makes you so special.  My true inspiration.  Love you!

Her dad baked 10 pecan pies! 

Fresh tomatoes from the local farm

back on crack

J-crack, Lumpy Ridge, Rocky Mountain NP - photo by Carlos

I want to say this upfront: coming back to the United States is great.  I missed all my friends, my coworkers, and all my favorite places.  Nowhere else are you going to find a country where almost everyone is an immigrant from somewhere else.  Truly a hodgepodge of nationalities and cultures.  I really didn't appreciate the diversity until I went to China this last time.  I missed the chaos shopping at Market Basket.  A cup of cappuccino at Simon's.  A nice bowl of authentic pho made by Vietnamese.  And a well run office!

Most important of all of this, is that I'm back on crack!  And I love it.  Hand cracks and finger crack and toe jams.  I almost forgot how to do it because I had been doing face climbs for the last two months.  It had been a while since I climbed multi-pitch trad climbs that it felt like the first time again.  It's like falling in love for the first time.

I stopped by Denver on my way back to Boston from Asia to go do some more climbing with Carlos.  The climbing at Eldorado was so amazing two months prior that I was really looking forward to going back to Colorado for more climbing. Carlos and I went to Lumpy Ridge at Rocky Mountain and climbed the 4-pitch J Crack.  It was a lot of fun, and included a scary (for Carlos) slabby 10a pitch.  I fell back in love with climbing instantly.  Alright, alright, I'll admit it.  It wasn't just for the climbing.  I was also really looking forward to seeing Carlos again.

Perhaps both of our expectations were too high of each other.  Perhaps it was just not meant to be. Within three days of being together, we both got somewhat sick of each other.  Incompatible is the best word to describe the situation.  I was surprised, but it was mutual.  For the last two months in China I had mentally carved the days down on my imaginary wall as if I was imprisoned in another country, waiting for my release date.  But once I got released, I couldn't get back into society and behave like a normal human being.  I was having fun in China, and worked hard, but it still felt somewhat trapped.  I didn't expect that I would have a real bad case of reverse culture shock.

I was so deeply engrossed in my work adventures in China this trip, that I had a hard time snapping back to my old self.  I also worked in isolation most of my the time in China, thinking deeply about every step of my work.  I could not loosen up, and I was still constantly thinking about my work.  What did I accomplish, what did I experience, what could be better, and so on.  I had temporary amnesia and forgot how I used to be.

I forgot to have fun.  I really did.

Coming back to work in Cambridge, I felt a similar sense of confusion.  I was glad to be back and I looked so relaxed that I probably didn't look like I'm working that hard.  The truth is, my experience in China has pushed me to a different level of stress tolerance.  I also felt some frustration: why couldn't ___ understand how I feel?  Can they be a bit more sympathetic?  Do you know how hard I worked over there?

In time, the shock will wear off.  I will be back to my old self.  Going back to Metrorock was probably the most familiar to me.  I truly felt like I was home, more than going back to my apartment.  But I have learned new things about me, new experiences, and my limits.

As my favorite travel blogger Chris G. said:

There’s only one option: you must learn to keep some of the memories in your own heart. This is hard to do, because you want to share everything with the people you love… but even as you tell the stories, you realize there’s an unresolvable gap between an experience and its retelling.

It’s easy to begin doubting yourself, wondering if life on the other side was really that interesting, or if things really happened the way you imagine them now. Doubt your doubts! What happened was real; it just can’t always be passed on to people who weren’t there.

It's like many of our rock climbing experiences.  You will never be able to explain to a non-climber or even sometimes a fellow rock climber what adventures you had the weekend prior.  Because it is difficult to retell your whole experience to them, and they probably won't understand either.

But you know, that what you had was precious, and that memory will always be yours to cherish.

a classic beauty

Probably by now you figured out one of my other obsessions.  Old-fashioned bikes!  Look at this beauty I found in Shanghai.  It's a remake of an old model, all brand new and clean.  I want it!  Oh wait, I already have one that looks almost identical to this one.  But this one has a basket.  I think I'm going to add a basket to mine... maybe even a leather saddle (although I've been told they are very uncomfortable).

Look at the hand breaks... love it!  And the little old-fashioned bike plate from back in the days!  Love love love.  Can't wait to ride my bike when I get back to Boston.

See you Boston folks on August 8th!

RM