Panda’s Day of Fun

Aloha braddas and sistahs!

I decided to make a little post about the first day I left the house and actually went out into the little world of Massakusetts. Mostly for those who are curious about where I am and what I am doing, and for those who aren’t curious, I did it coz I miss you fuckers and wished you all were here with me wandering around.

I’m currently staying in Cambridge, it’s a small town and has a small town feel but it does have Harvard University, which I have to pass through to get to the T (train system, get it?). So it has buildings like this one:

I believe this is the AA building.

It had this dude up there, and I felt smart coz I definitely have seen that name before.

Maybe he’s the one who killed Macbeth? 🤷🏽‍♀️

But then this dude was up there too… and I’ve definitely never even seen this name.

I mean, what even is that??!!

And also, I was very happy to discover that Cambridge has jumped on the bicycle train. Coz there were bikes everywhere!!!

I cut through Hahvahd Yahd and it’s kinda nice…

That last pic has the John Harvard statue in the distance. That’s the one where you rub his foot for good luck(?) I think. It was in a movie. The Departed maybe?

Then I went down to the station, got myself a Charlie Card

That’s the card you need to load and reload with $$ and tap to get into stations and buses. Legend has it that Charlie couldn’t afford to get off the train back in the 1300s so he rode the train all day long. 🤷🏽‍♀️

Just don’t focus on the strangers. I never claimed to be a photographer.

Well, I was really out to go buy work clothes for my new job which starts Tuesday!! Woot woot! I nailed that job within 24 hours of arriving. Whoo wooo! So, I went to a store and saw this and just have to share.

Right here is the Old State House, the very first state house in the entire USA. Now it’s a subway stop.

And this is the New England Clam Chowdah that I got instead of the $23 lobster roll that I wanted. Coz who pays $23 for a lobster roll. That’s almost an ultimate feast at Red Lobster.

Ran into Tom Brady who was standing in front of his new Wax Museum.

Isn’t he lovely?

I walked through the Boston Commons which is the oldest park in the USA. And I saw a mongoose!

And then I walked through the Public Garden

Saw some bikis

Then I went to the library coz I’m a nerd and it’s my favorite place in the entire city.

Then I sat down and made this.

Here’s an extra pic of something I found on Reddit!

Enjoy’ miss you guys!

Into My Wild

Into the Wild: A Personal Symbolism of My Pursuit of the Joy of Life

 

On the day that my travel companion of the past three months left Bangkok to return                                                                                                                                                                                 home to the U.S., an action that officially marks the end of this chapter of my life, I was left behind feeling ethereal and somewhat alone. For almost half a year, I have spent the majority of my waking hours in the company of one of my best friends.  We’ve been living as roommates, working at the same job and lastly, three months of traveling through Southeast Asia. It has been, with no doubt in mind, an adventure that belongs on the highest shelf of the bookcase of my life. The imminent change had been a shadow of bittersweet shades covering me with contradicting emotions. I was eager for this journey to end knowing that it instantaneously kick-starts a new one, both for him and myself. Though there was a hollow sadness in my heart at the thought that he would no longer be there to share new moments with. After arriving back at my friend’s home, where the two of us had stayed the past 3 weeks, I was driven by a quiet curiosity to take a peek in his room. I saw the empty room in my mind before I even opened the door. But for a moment, I allowed myself to imagine that he’d be inside, lying on the bed with a book in his hand.

But there was no one there, only a few random objects strewn about. There was a souvenir shirt one size too small, a packet of multi-vitamins, empty bottles of water, and scraps of paper.  It was a familiar feeling that overcame me as I stood in the room observing the stillness and vacancy of it all, a feeling of completion. The kind of emotion that is felt at the glance of an empty room at the end of moving day, when all the boxes are taped up and the last painting taken down.

It was over. The journey has ended, and I am on my own.

I saw it on the dresser amidst several other insignificant objects. It’s surprising presence slightly unsettling as I wondered how he could have left it behind. I had just returned it to him this morning, keeping it in my possession days after I had finished reading it, if not to flip through my favourite passages then to simply have it close at hand almost willing it to inspire me. His copy of Into the Wild sat eagerly underneath a torn page of his notebook that screamed “Joya!” Inside of which, told me that “There’s always more to read… so read on! ! & Take Care. “

I almost laughed out loud because there was nothing more perfect that he could have left behind for me, and I almost laughed because I had not expected it when I should have.

It would be factitious for me to claim that the book had changed me somehow, because it had not. To say that the adventures of Chris McCandless and his reckless but undeniably admirable will of being stirred awake the adventurous spirit that lied within me, would be untrue. At this point, my adventurous and insatiable soul has been roaring loudly for years. What Into the Wild has done for me, is simply remind me that I am not alone in how I feel. I discovered, though I should have already known, that there are many others who seek out and sometimes find the illumination of a life lived on the fringe. In my case, it is easy to forget that I am not as crazy as others have helpfully informed me. I know of only one other person who sometimes feels the way I do, and even he does not reflect the zeal that I possess.  I often live a life that teeters between that of a life within a society and one that lies outside of it, a life that gives me the feeling of an outsider in either scenario. However, the comfort of belonging to a society is that there are many others that do as well, so that when I am a citizen I hardly ever need convincing that everything is right with the world. On the other hand, vagabonds are fundamentally loners that in seeking a kind of Vagabond Anonymous for a sense of community lay a paradox, therefore I have no one to tell me that what I feel is not as extraordinary as it seems. But because I am still in between both worlds, and have not yet dared to choose one side, I usually feel wrong for wanting what’s out there. Try as they might, friends and family always fail at understanding my desire. I expect that they believe I am simply going through a phase and it would not be too long before I file for my 401-k and put a down payment on a quaint little house with white shutters and white fences on Pearl Street.

Irrespective of what the future holds, of which path I will have end up taking, I am not mistaken that what I want and what I wish my future to be is to wander for as long as I can help it. The fate of Chris McCandless has created an immense ideal that of an eternal wanderer. Had he not passed away in the middle of his exodus, he might have just returned from it with volumes of story to tell but only to go on to re-join the world he left behind. He would then not be so different from the very author that wrote his story and immortalized him forever as a supertramp. Jon Krakauer, a writer whose own life is full of achievements and unimaginable feats but would never be the legend that Chris had become because he is absolutely and will always be part of the world. The very essence of Chris McCandless is in his success of never being able to become anything other than the wanderer he had wanted to be.

Nothing more would make me feel satisfied than looking back at the end of it all and seeing a life lived moving through the world, living through the world. It would be a delight if I succeed in spending my years scattered about between Buenos Aires, Caracas, San Sebastian, Nice, Paris, Munich, Marrakesh, Tuscany, Borneo, Bangkok, Sydney, Dakar, perhaps even Tokyo. Most of those closest to me believe that I will soon tire, that I couldn’t possibly want to do this for so long. That they insist I give them an answer to the question of where in the world would I settle. When I am ready, when money is not a factor, when I desire a partner, and children, when my adventurous spirit is ready to rest, where in the world do I stop. Always in my mind, I wonder, why do I have to stop? But I answer, out loud, an arbitrary city that I love and could see myself possibly considering to make my home, but even thinking of it feels forced. Thinking of settling down and stopping feels more of an obligation to appease others and something I don’t think I have the tiniest aspiration for. Sure, I could live and settle in New York maybe, or Medellin. I can get a job, continue on my career, and get promotions and yearly bonuses. I’m enough of a positive person that anywhere I go; either path I choose would keep me happy. I can live a nice life, with a nice man, in a nice city, raise pleasant children, and go on fun vacations and I would do it all with a genuine smile in my heart because life is always about The Road Not Taken. Though that is not the life I would chase after with all that I have. I see that life simply as an acceptable possibility, but only after I have already tired of running down the road less travelled.

Chris McCandless lived his dream, and he never left it. He remains to me an ultimate success. Though I do not want an early end, nor am I grateful that he perished, I am grateful that he lived his dream. He proved to himself and to the world that “the joy of life comes from our encounters with new experiences, and hence there is no greater joy than to have an endlessly changing horizon, for each day to have a new and different sun.” He taught us that we ought to live or die trying. He, like many of my heroes, allows me to believe that I am not foolish for pursuing my dreams, however different they may be. At the final leg of this journey, I end it with Chris McCandless in my company. The book is aged, and the signs of being well-read are obvious. It was bought for 75 cents, the price pencilled in on the top right corner of its first page, right above a photograph of Chris McCandless leaning against the infamous Fairbanks City Bus 142. Someone who now resides in Denmark had bought it a long time ago, and it was handed down to my friend and travel companion who brought the book with him as we travelled through Southeast Asia. It was a book that I borrowed and read up with thunderous desire on a bus from Bangkok en route to Chiang Mai. It is a book, with stories, and characters that will now accompany me in my own journey in the absence of my friend, who is finally on his way home. Through a thoughtful gift, I am not alone after all.

One Year

Evidently, I arrived on this peculiar little island exactly a year ago. It’s an anniversary that almost passed by unnoticed until it came to my mind and dared me not to forget. It was as if I had a silent alarm to remind me. The year that has passed has certainly been full and I would never be able to capture the gratitude I have for my moments and experiences that I have had in such a short period of time. I feel that I am a million times richer in friends. I have an infinite number of nights and days I wished went on forever. I feel that I have learned the most important lesson I knew once before but sometimes forgotten, and that is: Strive to be Happy.

Day after day, I only need to look out the window to be reminded that we live in a wonderful world. The day is almost always picture perfect. The mountains always stand gloriously, the ocean glimmers with light like a sea of treasure. But more than anything that has happened and more than anything I am eternally grateful for the people that I now call my friends. The people that surround me; whether they themselves emit a positive glow, or only slowly discovering the light within them have significantly changed my life. Whether it was by choice or chance that we found each other, these people, these misfits; with their baggage, their troubles, their joys, their successes, their tears and most importantly their laughter. I owe to them, perhaps, the best year of my life.

Soon I met people and rapidly they became my friends. Almost instantly bonds were formed and whether that is an attribute to the industry we belonged to or not, it’s undeniable that the friendships were noticeably unlike any other. They welcomed me with open arms; I was invited to their happy hours, their birthday celebrations, their camping trips, their hikes, and Volleyball Mondays. It didn’t happen overnight but within a few months they gained my trust, and I’d like to think I’ve earned theirs.

Sometimes, I wonder whether our friendships are shallow. Held only by our common desire to “party” and “play,” but as I look back on just this one year. The moments I’ve shared with them have been above and beyond just that. Some I may have gone to another world with on that one trip to Maui, others have come running to my aid when I needed them and I’d like to think I’ve been there for them as well; whether it was my couch to crash on or company when it was needed, or a simple hug when things are just super shitty. And while I might have lost a friend here and there,or have grown distant from friends that were once close. And while there have been screaming matches, curses and insults thrown, silent treatments given and forgotten… there’s still a constant underlying truth that their impact on my life is no less significant. Though, I think the true testament to our bonds of friendship is that I know they will answer if I call. Unless they didn’t pay their phone, that is.

One full year. From my first Yokes experience to the most recent Waimanalo Beach Day and to all the times we saved the night and bravely fought the break of dawn. To the short, long and reeeaaallly long hikes I’ve been on. To the boat rides and the celebrations at Queens or Fort de Russy. To all the scars I proudly wear. To all the bottles of liquor and beer consumed. To every single bar I’ve numerously closed down with the best people I have ever met. It has been a magnificent, amazing and wonderful year. To every single person who I call friend and vice-versa. Thank you, for sharing your happiness with me. THANK YOU, you sons of bitches! You know who you are!

Ka’au Crater: Shit Got Real

It was mentioned to me offhandedly by someone, sometime ago that Ben and Jerry went on hikes every Monday. I’ve only been on the island for a little over two months and I was more than eager to get explore the mountains that consistently served as the postcard picture background of my neighborhood in Waikiki. I sought them out and before long I was on the list. Late Sunday night, I received a text message from Jerry.

Sun. Aug 10 22:42

Jerry: Still down for the epic hike tomorrow morning?

Me: What time?

Jerry: Leave 9am.

Me: Sweet.

I went about my night and had settled in to watch a few episodes of HIMYM before dozing off.

Mon. Aug. 11, 00:22

Jerry: Change to 10:30 pick up. 

Me: O.k.

The next morning…

Mon. Aug. 11, 10:02

Jerry: 11 pick up

Mon. Aug. 11, 11:30

Jerry: I’m on my way. 

Finally, a little after 1 PM we were headed to Ka’au Crater. It seems like everyone was on Hawaiian Time that day. It was intended to be a 5-6 hour hike, so I came prepared with a liter of water, Gatorade and some Spam Musubi. We followed directions from reviewers on Yelp, and without any delay we found one of the trail heads, right behind a row of mailboxes on a quiet residential street on Palolo Valley.

Immediately the hike was promising. This was no “Manoa Falls Trail.” We had to scurry down some steep slopes, tread our way back and forth through shallow streams, and walk cautiously along narrow edges. The ground was slippery at times, but generally, the trail caused no concern. Every now and then we had to pull ourselves up some ropes that hikers before us had left behind. How nice of them. We set our rules for the day.

Rule No. 1: Don’t fall.

Rule No. 2: Don’t die.

Good enough for me.

We ran into three teenagers, we asked them how far to the first waterfall. 15 minutes they said. They lied. We ran into a family of 4 with a dog. And… we ran into a co-worker who was on his way back from a hike with his friend and sister. Small island indeed. But they were one of only a handful of people we saw on the trail. We would meet no one else after that.

In due time, we hear the first waterfall. And then we see it.

Like a gem in the middle of a haystack the waterfall was a joy to find, it was an accomplishment; we had reached a destination. Waterfall Number One, check! We took the obligatory photographs and posted some online. Keeping in mind the plaque we had read of a person who had fallen off some years ago in her pursuit of the perfect photograph.

We kept on of course, as there were more sights to see. We followed the pink ribbons, tied to trees every now and then that served as our markers. We reached the second waterfall, taking our time to dip in our weary feet, hydrate and enjoy the cooling mist before taking off again. Here and there the trail was the stream itself and we followed the smooth rocks and boulders as it took us to the last waterfall of the hike.

We stared at the waterfall. The advise was to climb the waterfall using the ropes along the side.

Are they fuckin’ kidding?

No. No, they were not.

It was easier than it looks and it didn’t take long to get used to this new level of hiking. Gradually, we made our way up to the top of the waterfall of about 30 feet. The climb was spectacular, reaching the top was rewarding. All around us was the bountiful wonder of nature. The rhythmic flow of the water and the constant rush and its fall was soothing. It was us and nature. Pacha Mama in the flesh. We were alone with nature. There was nothing but the trees, and the water, and the sky, and the earth, and the birds. We felt one with the earth and it was magnificent. 

Until we received text messages that informed us Robin Williams had been found dead in an apparent homicide. Apparently, we had cellphone signal again. On we went, this time our conversation shifting to our favorite Robin Williams movies and how funny he was. Crazy but amazing. Though I felt I couldn’t really judge as I was presently climbing up a waterfall against all logic. But the climb must go on. We climbed one water fall after another.

And another, and another, and another. For the love of god, when will this end.

But of course it does, as most things do. We reached the ridge and behold the crater before us.

What a beautiful sight. Even more, it was gratifying having climbed straight up seven waterfalls. I stood, gazing at the solemn green grass below me and I wondered of the creatures that called it home. It was pristine. Untouched. Virgin. It was beyond words. I was content and pleased.

Jerry calls up to me, “Ok, boo, let’s head on up to the top.”

Say what?!?

Jerry tells me we were to go to the top.

Umm…

Ben excitedly states that we should eat our lunch at the summit.

What? But…. We’re here. We’re looking at the crater. It’s gorgeous, why do we need to go up even higher? Why? But…

Sighing, I grudgingly followed along.

Up here, the hike was gradually steeper. When we reached a vantage point, about halfway to the summit, we reaped our rewards. We sat down enjoyed some delicious water and sandwiches. From up here, we could see the crater on one side and the valley below. In the distance, was Waikiki, Diamond Head and the Pacific Ocean stretching out to the horizon.

Again, off we went. The day was getting late and soon the sun would set. I gazed out at this magnificent crater and asked what I thought was an obvious question.

Me: Are we seriously trying to make it around the crater by nightfall?

Jerry: Of course, boo, it’ll be so awesome.

Me: But… this is huge, we have two hours til sundown, two and half hours before it’s dark.

Jerry: Oh, we’ll be fine, we’ll reach the other side before then.

Ben: We have flashlights and it should be easier after the summit.

Jerry: Yeah, we’ll reach the other side in 45 mins.

Do they not see what I see?

I argue. I tell them that realistically, we will be hardly be a third of the way around the crater when the sunsets. They insist that we would. I stare at this crater in absolute bewilderment at how they thought we could climb to the top of the summit, go down, go up and down about two more times before reaching a semi-leveled trail in 45 minutes.

We reached a compromise, reach the top and decide if we want to go on, or turn back.

So, be it.

We climbed this.

And we climbed that.

It was tough, I’ve never climbed up ropes before that many times, I was very surprised I even managed. I was exhausted and energy seemed like something I couldn’t even remember anymore. But as we kept on and on, it was exhilarating. One hand over the other, one foot over the next. Push, pull, slip and slide. And up, and up, and up we went.

We reached the top and behold, another reward. 

What a grand world we live in.

But the three of us were all staring to the west, at the sun, dipping hurriedly behind the the mountain and behind the clouds.

Yeah, shit just got real.

We tried to climb down the other side while there was still light of day, but that grew too dangerous and with an unfamiliar trial and the darkness, literally creeping up to us, we opted to turn around and climb down the only way we knew how. Down those fuckin ropes. Again.

Rule No. 1: Don’t fall

Rule No. 2: Don’t die

Not even 20 feet down, night had come. The fog had rolled in. We couldn’t see shit. Which to me was a great thing. I had no idea how far my fall would be if I did slip and fall. Each of us had one source of light, I used a small handheld flashlight. Jerry had a headlamp and Bed was using his phone. Yes, this was a pleasant evening. Shimmering down a tall mountain one-handed, in the dark.

I checked my bottle of water. I had one swig left. I took it.

Let me rephrase: Yes, this was a pleasant evening. Shimmering down a tall mountain, one-handed, in the dark, with no water.

An hour later, we reached the bottom of the summit. The fog cleared up, the moon was bright. In the distance, we could see Waikiki again. This time, its specks of bright orange glows equally gave us hope and despair. It was so close and yet so far. We pushed away thoughts of exhaustion and thirst. We focused on the $10 steaks and half-off drinks at Lulu’s if only we made it before the kitchen close. We had to. We deserve those steaks, goddamnit. I could practically, taste my pina colada.

We managed to wander our way back to the top of the waterfall, grateful none of us slipped or fell to our deaths. Grateful that no one had injured anything. The only thing we had to complain was that we were hungry, thirsty and we smelled. Our spirits were lifted. Our energy was back. We found the trail marker and on we went. Life was good again. This trail was muddy, but who cared. We were beyond messed up by this point. We exchanged stories; what drugs have you done? What drugs do you want to do? Where was the most exciting place you had sex? Where did you lose your virginity? What is your favorite Disney movie? Blah, blah, blah. Yammer, yammer, yammer.

Suddenly, Jerry stopped. Ben stopped. I go, “what’s going on?”

Jerry: The trail ended.

Ben: What do you mean?

Me: What do you mean, it ended?

Jerry: There’s no more trail. I don’t see it.

Ben: What do you mean? I don’t understand.

Me: I don’t understand. What do you mean?

Panic had set in. It was close to midnight, we had been hiking on this particular trail for over an hour. We felt we were getting close. We could feel the end. I could almost see the white Corolla waiting for us at the parking lot with three beautiful bottles of water sitting so peacefully inside. But there was nothing around us but trees. We look around. We go up and down the trees, maybe the trail is hidden. We find nothing. It was decided we turn back. Maybe we missed a turn. Maybe we were meant to make a right and not a left. Maybe we’re on the wrong trail. Maybe this, maybe that. My flashlight runs out of battery. My phone is at 13%, Jerry’s is at 11%, Ben’s at 20%.

We called our friends, some want us to call 911. I don’t know what 911 could have done. I wanted to reach a park ranger. They were always useful. I find a phone number online. It was for the Big Island. We were on Oahu, a different island. Oahu does not have park rangers, except for the U.S.S. Arizona. He tells us to call 911. What. The. Fuck. Jerry wants to call 911 and have a chopper pick us up. Ben did not want a chopper to pick us up. I would have wanted to be picked up but I did not want to pay whatever that would cost. Ben wants to look for the trail. Jerry wants to lie down and sleep. I just wanted water. I didn’t care about staying up here all night, but could someone please just give me some water.

Maybe a small, metal container with water will come down on a small parachute like in The Hunger Games, I hoped. No such thing happened. Jerry’s roommate called 911. 911 recommended we stay put, get some sleep and try again in the morning. We decided this. We decided that. In the end, we decide to stop.

We trekked back, found a small, flat meadow at the edge of the crater, laid down and watched the stars. We had agreed to wait for sunlight. The time was 1 in the morning. Sunlight was in 4 hours.

I call my work.

Me: Hello, ummm… I went on a hike today, and umm… I’m still here on the mountain, umm.. it’s a little past midnight and ummm… and I can’t find my way back, so I won’t be able to come in to work tomorrow morning. Thank you.

It was a gorgeous night. The moon was superbly bright. The breeze cool and light but not cold. The clouds moved swiftly in and out and around. The stars shown, but not too brightly. The moon was overpowering the night. We spotted at least 7 shooting stars. They were amazing.

Soon enough the sun came up, and never had I ever been as grateful for sunlight as that beautiful morning. It gave us more energy, our thirst set aside and off we went again. We decided to try the same trail we were on last night. Just in case, we missed a turn.

Ben reached the dead end first.

Ben: You’re going to laugh when you guys see this.

We gather around and look. Last night, in the dark we saw nothing but trees. In the daylight, it was crystal clear. The trail continued on, all we had to do was crawl under a fallen tree. How. Fuckin. Hilarious.

It took us another 2.5 hours before we finally reached the top of that cliff and back on to that road right beyond the mailboxes. I was the first one out. I climbed that cliff like a lizard. I was fast. Nothing was going to stop me from reaching the end. I was going to make it. Fuck it all. I was going to reach the end. I pulled myself up that last rope. Walked out of the bushes and on to the street and I screamed!

Life is glorious.

Danger: Falling Rocks

Nature is inescapable. Often this realization strikes when we find ourselves at its mercy; when a tornado hits, when a polar vortex seeps into our bones, when an earthquake claims its victims. Living here, in Oahu, however, that phrase translates exclusively to mean that every single day, is a day to be astounded by nature.

Surrounded by nothing but the powerful Pacific Ocean, the islands have much more to boast than I could ever know. Even a simple, quick walk into the woods, leads to jaw-dropping wonder.

I followed the trail towards Manoa Falls today. It is an easy hike. Besides the sometimes slippery slopes, it was a walk in the park. The scenery along the way however, is fantastic.

No matter which direction you turn to, in Oahu, you simply cannot escape. Which makes living here, a bit of an oddity. Usually, we head to the trails, to the beach or to the mountains for a retreat. We indulge our desire to be lost with Pacha Mama. But when you live in the midst of it, there is no escape. It is simply there. It is a constant. Consistent, unchanging, and always.

All you need to do is look up.

And look down.

And all around…

As it is with life, after a long journey the time comes to reap the rewards.

And as true as it is in life, so it is on a journey, beware.