The Spatilloman's Sightseeing Adventure

Oh crowded and jerky public transport, how I've missed you. Everything whizzes by twice as fast and the vibrant colors swirl into one giant swoosh. It's incredible how much one can learn about a country and culture just by traveling from point A to point B. Whether or not people will stand in a line seems to be an incredible indicator of the country's economic situation. In Gambia, you practically had to knock people down to get on a gele gele. And when the ferry was ready for boarding, people simply couldn't grasp the concept of patience and to my dismay, I felt forced to adapt that principle from time to time. Because if you didn't, you might literally miss the bus.

When Amina and I traveled in Morocco last July, I found it hard not to compare the two African countries. Although we didn't utilize much public transport thanks to the generosity and kindness of Amina's father and his car, the line frustration still came about. One time a woman tried to cut in front of me in a public restroom after I had been patiently yet urgently awaiting, and she almost met her fate.

So far in India, we've traveled by taxi, ferry boat, bus, plane, metro and bicycle rickshaw. By far the most types of public transport in a country other than the US. There seems to be more of a concept and awareness of lines, which makes it feel personal when someone crosses yours. But the streets are in constant motion and activity, to a degree that is frightening sometimes. But it comes to no surprise with approximately 1.5 billion Indian residents. I've also noticed that the type of public transport that you're taking that is affected by the "line index", which really is also indicative of wealth, to some degree. Then, all of a sudden, the four of us boarded a bike rickshaw to our couch surfing host's alleyway apartment in Delhi, and the trip really got interesting. Hold on to your bells!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

This trips is humbling in so many ways. It brings back an abundance of memories from Gambia and memories, good and bad, can be so difficult to handle sometimes. Our host in Delhi, Sonu, is generous and kind. She is trying to work with a group of kids from the slum neighborhoods and also putting efforts to open doors for women through educating them informally in her home. She and her husband, Raja are originally from Nepal and had an arranged marriage 10 years ago. They have a 7 year old son, Joli, whom has taken a liking to all of us, but particularly Steven. They play politics by way of the board game "International Business" (like Monopoly), on a daily basis. This morning, we were invited to mediation with Dev, Raj's brother. He recited some Kundalini yoga energy balance kriyas and gave us some insight into our personalities. He also did my numerology and read my palms and told me to pay close attention to those with names beginning with the letters L, S and G, and taking everything with a grain of salt, urged me to become a vegetarian. (BTW, I hadn't told him I wasn't). And then, afterwards, he told us that he could help book our tour for our travels to Jai Pur and Agra, via automobile... How convenient! ;).

Anyway, the four of us are traveling really well together and I'm enjoying the company and personalities that everyone is bringing forth. Our first couple of days in Mumbai were spent at Steven's apartment, on the campus of the TIFR campus. It is a nice oasis for us to escape to, after traipsing around the crowded city. We drank tea and ate some meals at the canteens (cafes) on campus and its a safe place for me to run. One morning, Steven's friend, Devika, joined us for yoga, and she added to our practice with the demonstration and explanation of pranayama breathing.

We have played the roll of the famous white person more than once, the extent to which people will literally ask us for pictures, in addition to shaking our hands and touching our hair. I've long wondered how many pictures and videos of others I've been in, in the US, and this is taking it to a whole new dimension.

Too much to describe in one sitting, but certainly, there will be more to share. So glad I'm here with my "family" (Stacy is mom, Steven is older brother, Jen is middle sister and I, the baby). Together, we are the Spatillomans...

Leggy and Jetty

Under the full moon light, their day is your night.

You lose 10 hours by the bright of the sun.

Five hour layovers, worse than your 1st hangover.

Immigration, customs and baggage claim baggage.

Herded like cattle to hurry up and wait.

The larger the legs, the longer the lag and before you know it your jet black Pegasus has sprouted another limb...thanks to rainy weather in Dubai or re-routing to Mumbai.

And maybe somehow, three days from now, your brain might catch up with your eyes?

The first full day in Mumbai brought back a lot of memories from the streets of Fajara, The Gambia. Birds are vocal, streets are active and trees are tall and fruity. People were less aggressive than I was expecting, which was a nice surprise! I am so happy to be here and so grateful to be experiencing this culture for the first time with friends. Mysore am yoga...check. Or pm? I don't think I'll be able to tell the difference for a while.

Oh, hey, I'm going to India

It's here. The day is here and my Pegasus has his wings spread ready for flight. And my desert is yellow and brown and red and orange with a cup-sized cube made of pencils, balancing a ladder made of paper towel rolls, next to a prickly pear cactus and its red cactus rose on its tip. Here we go; the storm is off in the distance, but its electric lightening is no longer shocking. Well, I think that about sums it up.

Out with the old.

In with the new...year.

This time of year is common for reflection and projection. Did you get to travel to the places you wanted, or spend time with all the people, or read those books or learn an instrument or perfect the 2nd language? No? Well, why the hell not? What do you think inhibited those actions? Are there ways that you might be able to incorporate those activities into your life in 2012? What about in the first half of 2012?

Ever since my birthday and my Nana's departure day, last August, I've been on this huge kick about making the most of my time. Nearly every day, I'll start off by writing down at least three things that I feel are the most important to me that day. I think it's okay to start off vague, but usually I end up getting very specific. Sometimes I draw pictures or work on an existing poem, or makes lists about errands to be run. Basically, I just take about 10 minutes to prioritize my day and figure out what's going to help propel me through its web. Many times what ends up happening is that I accomplish most of what I aim for that day, but if there is something that lingers, I put it at top priority for the next. I don't get down on myself if I cannot cross everything off, but instead, I feel rewarded with all of the things I was able to do and soak in the surprises that I wasn't expecting.

For the first time in many new years, I am excited about the resolution and goal-setting aspect. The other day, I attended a workshop that helped me reflect on this past year, with regard to the seasons and time of year when significant events occured. The I made projections about 2012 and linked them to the seasons, with words and pictures, using a circle to navigate the year. I was so surprised to realize how much I had accomplished last year and it helped re-assure that it's okay to be ambitious this year! A couple of mine include finish my first novel, ride inside a hot air balloon, participate in projects to help improve my community, continue to be available to friends and family, hosts workshops to share other's knowledge about healthy and sustainable ways of living and rejuvenate the USPS by means of getting people to hand write more letters!! I have many more things I'd like to do this next year, but I think it's okay to start out small and expand once you get into the groove of a new project.

Last year, I experienced a lot of loss, but not just with death of family members. I am sure many people experienced similar loss and know what I'm talking about. It's often not something we can prepare for, and loss is bound to happen in this coming year, but I am grateful for what I have gained from personal grief that transformed into personal growth.

If you internalize what it is that you're hoping to gain from this brief blip of a life, then you're one step ahead of the game. Share it with your friends and help them become the best they can be, too. We're all in this together and I'm in it for the long haul!

Happy New Day 2012!

Look No Further Than Local

Sorry Mom, I will always call Norman, OK my home.

Norman, Oklahoma reminds me of a lot of different things. It makes me think of the early years when I was a student and how excited I was to move away from home for the very first time. I had such a great experience as a student and joined a plethora of clubs and organizations like the rowing team and Alpha Phi Omega. I finally declared social work as my major and gained an entirely new family over at little ol' Rhyne Hall. I don't think you can't help but grow up during those years, and after 5 years of school and consistent relationships, I graduated to another version of myself.

I'll be honest, it took quite a bit of time after moving back from Gambia to feel welcomed back to a place I had spent so much time making memories in. But I went through the process of buying a home, building a new network of amazing and like-minded friends and looking at the community a little differently than I ever had before. I discovered a uniquely colored leaf and turned to examine the underneath side, which was much more interesting and compatible.

Then I embarked on this art and music tour and left for a couple of months. I had always admired those I'd meet that were coming and going, but still called Oklahoma their home, and all of a sudden, I think I am one of them. Normanites claim there's a vortex in the town, and I can attest to that. This time, when I came back, I immediately felt like a piece of the puzzle, returning to its rightful place. After 10 years of coming and going and seeing the same lovely faces, it is clear that there is something about this place. It feels like we are all doing our part to help continue to contribute to making our little bubble beautiful in endless ways.

It's nice to be here for a while, before loading up my pack on my back, once again, to see the other side of the bubble.

Ca$h Money!!

I'm visiting my parents this weekend in Dallas. It's one of my travel destinations, next of which is Norman for the week of Thanksgiving.

Anyway, I digress....

One of the typical things my family does when I'm home is run errands and see movies. Actually, they do that regardless if I'm here, but I get to tag along when I am. Yesterday, dad and I saw The Descendants, which wasn't too bad. But before that, we went to the post office and to the bank. Sitting there, in the drive through, I witnessed the craziest transaction I'd ever seen. And when we left, I asked my dad if he thought what had just happened was bizarre and he didn't know the slightest thing what I was talking about.

This explains three possible things:

1. I'm way too observant and curious for my own good.
2. My dad is way too oblivious to all of his surroundings.
3. It really wasn't that bizarre, but I thought it was because I'd never seen it before.

Here's what happened:

Right after we pulled into the drive through and sent the transactions through the tube, an armored van pulls up right behind us. The ATM is directly to the left, so an armored man gets out of the van, leaving his sun glassed partner watching from the van like an eagle on its post. The dude gets out his keys and after about 5 minutes of punching codes and unlocking and opening the machine, the world is staring at the ATM's skeleton. Or I am at least. he continues punching numbers and a piece of paper regurgitates with some more numbers, I'm guessing, and then finally, he bends down too far below for me to see him extracting the money. It's like he's doing surgery on the robot ATM and getting paid millions in a matter of seconds.

I keep looking in all my mirrors and at the teller, who has been on the phone the entire time. It's taking a very long time for our transaction to be complete.

Then, after a while of bending down, the uniformed man stands up, turns around, and we lock eyes. He's caught me observing the surgery and although I wasn't doing anything wrong, it felt like I had seen him extracting a kidney to sell on the black market. I was at the wrong place at the wrong time and maybe I had caught on to something that wasn't meant to be witnessed. It felt even more like that when he immediately radioed something on his shoulder, at which point the teller behind the window broke me from my trance by mumbling something about taking a little longer. Sure thing, lady, I'm watching this million dollar transaction occur. Take all the time you need.

After that, he walked to a drive-thru that was 3 spaces away from ours. There was a car to our right, and then a space, and then him. Until, right as he started sending the money (I'm guessing), this unmarked white van pulled into the empty space to the left of him. And then the car next to us left, and the van reversed from his original spot, then pulled into the spot next to us. Finally, after about what seemed like 10 more minutes, the armored car that was just sitting behind us began backing away, then the uniformed man walked to the backed up car and got in. It finally drove completely away. But the white van remained. And then suddenly, the teller turned her attention back to me, apologizing that her assistant had been away and was there anything else she could help us with. No, I responded, and thank you.

Why was I so mesmerized, I wonder, while my father remained completely unfazed?

Today, mom and I took a trip down memory lane, to the square in downtown Carrollton. It brought back memories of the county fair parade and riding in the float that my dance company put together every fall. It reminded me of the days when mom would get us out of school for a doctors apt., then take us to the Rainbow Fountain for an ice cream cone and the chance to sit and spin on our favorite color bar stool. I always chose blue. I thought the antique store next door was boring, but as long as the Rainbow Fountain was in the plan, I could manage to get through antiquing. Then there's the gazebo in the square where I'd pretend like I was Lisle from the Sound of Music, and try to jump from bench to bench. Getting back into the car, mom would put us back in our places if we got out of hand. She had me convinced that if I continued to act out, all she had to do was press the Eject button and I'd be shot out of the car, through the ceiling, like a Wile E. Coyote. I didn't dare challenge the threat. All I know is that I didn't have to learn "the hard way" and that she was a great rearing mother and she still is a great and loving mother.

Tonight a lot of my family gathered to help celebrate my only living grandmother's 80th birthday. Grandma Pat has been in the family since before I was born, after she married my Grandpa, the same year my parents got hitched, in 1980. The number of friends and family who attended, and their age ranges, is a testament to the type of woman Pat Fuller is. I can only hope to one day hear my husband publicly express the kind, heartfelt and supporting words my Grandfather spoke to a room full of loved ones, tonight. And I can only hope to live as long and as full of a life that she has thus far. Just 2 or 3 years ago, I might not have made the short trip or minuscule effort in coming home for the weekend. But somewhere in between, I realized life is too short. I constantly have to remind myself to keep things in perspective. Money should not restrict you from doing the things you love or want to do, and it certainly shouldn't keep you from the people whom you care most about. But sometimes it's that impeding obstacle. But when you're just a kid, nothing can slow you down, right? Not even bank tellers.

Lemonade for Sale: $10

My sister and I were those kids on our block who often had a table set up on the curbside when the weather was nice outside. Most of the time it was lemonade or some low-sugar fruity drink, but sometimes we went through our rooms and decided to sell things we no longer played with. My sister's claim to fame was that she sold a Troll doll to Derek Harper, who lived down the street. He said it was going to be one of his daughter's birthday presents. We'd perch on on the top of our brick mail box, flagging down the traffic that consisted of a sole car, creeping down the hill, about one for every 7 minutes that passed.

I began babysitting when I was 13 years old. By the time I could drive, I was booking jobs weekends in advance. I'd glance ahead in my planner, realizing that I had jobs lined up each day of the weekend, for the next 2 or 3 weeks. All of a sudden, as I'm typing this, it makes perfect sense! My dating life was obsolete, but I was making bank and got amazing grades throughout all of HS! I had unknowingly developed the habit of multitasking at a very early age, as well as entrepreneurship. Families could depend on me to take care of their kids and their houses and I began to build a reputation as one of those sitters who would tidy the house and wash dishes after the kids went to bed, thus was recommended to friends of existing clients. I remember one Christmas, I bought a stack of blank rectangular magnets and designed a logo on Windows "Paint" program with my name and phone number and job title: Babysitter. After I printed them off, cut them out and adhered the paper to the magnets, I personalized each and every one of them with multi-colored stamps, then gave them out to my client base. I learned from my father that if you develop good business relationships, it's important to recognize them and let them know they're recognized; that the appreciation is mutual.

Now, as an adult and someone who has suddenly found themselves interested in building a reputation in the creative arts industry, I am pulling out those habits developed as a teenager. So far, the repertoire consists of fused glass pieces of jewelry, uniquely designed racks upon which to display your jewelry, collaged light covers, re-used vintage house window glass paintings, and the piece I'm most proud of, my very first poem chapterbook, "The Toothbrush Tales, Vol. I". It's a collection of 10 origi

nal typewritten poems and collaged artwork. I don't have a steady income at the moment, so this is the beginning of my livelihood as a visual and literary artist. I'm calling the idea "Totem Tokens", because it's a hodgepodge of creations and each area represents a different aspect of areas of life. I'm hoping that there might be a duel-purpose token that can offer something to anyone.

Asheville and Memphis have been very productive points of travel. I found an instant community on the Warren Wilson campus in the woods and entered as a traveler and left as a perspective student for the only graduate program offered: An MFA in creative writing. Go figure that I was plopped onto a campus, in the middle of nature, with one of the best writing programs in the country. It was only natural that I'd get inspired to complete the chapbook, I guess.

I caught my first Craigslist ride share to Memphis, to visit my sister. It wouldn't have been possible without my friends from WWC, though, who helped me with meals, a warm place to stay, use of computers, and a ride into town. My ride share was this woman who needed to get home to see to her ailing mother, with the help from her siblings. The situation seemed familiar to what my own mother and her siblings may have experienced, only a couple of months prior, with Nana. My new friend and I cheered each other on, as we spoke similar views about our society; the need to share what we've already got and bartering our services, while reluctantly agreeing that one still has to try to earn money, even though money itself can truly be the evil root of everything.

Something we didn't have in common, though, was the fact that she'd grown up 3 decades earlier, in the deep south. One where she recalls classmates spitting on her chairs before sitting down to try to focus on the day's lessons. One where she remembers being "taught" by means of staring at the backside of her teacher because he had divided the class by race and directed his topics to only the white students. One where she was the first of five total black students to graduate from the de-segregated high school in Batesville, MS in 1969, only to receive her first reunion announcement 40 years later, after Obama obtained office.

In Memphis, my sister and I visited and talked about our plan to reunite the family by relocating us all to Eugene, OR, in 2-4 years. I hope everyone realizes by now that if it's a "plan" I'm a part of, it's going to happen... :) We went on a hike in the Shelby Forest State Park near her house, and I went on runs and set up the Totem Tokens Facebook page and attempted an Etsy account, not to mention, watched a bunch of Netflix. It was awesome.

I'm plotting my next move, that involves touching base in OK for a couple of days before heading off to Dallas, spending Thanksgiving in Norman and continuing travels to points west. The winds are picking up; clinging leaves are becoming chameleons on their branches, at which point they'll be released to the rest of the world. I'll happily continue to join those leaves on their journey.