Tricia Has a Not-So-Near-Death Experience

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March 2010
Fatick, Senegal

When my dear friend Lindsay paid good money to travel to Senegal while I lived there, I repaid her kindness by stepping on her glasses.  She simply taped them up and continued to help me hang mosquito netting over the air mattress we had set in the tiled foyer of my house.  My mom was visiting as well, and as the rules of seniority dictated, she got my bed in a private bedroom.

DSC00095After we had fallen asleep, a booming crash jolted me awake.  I was rigid with awareness, and just as I began to relax, the loud noise rang out again.  It felt loud enough to shake the house.

Beside me, Lindsay sat up and screamed, “What was that!?”  I rolled my eyes at her over-reaction, but as my sleep-addled brain caught up to reality, I realized I had a death-grip on her arm.  My mom ran out of my room to crouch outside our protective mosquito netting.

“Is that a normal noise?” she asked.

“No,” I answered, fear creeping into my voice.  “I mean, donkeys or something, yes.  But I have no idea what that was.”

“It sounded like your washing machine fell off a shelf,” Lindsay suggested.

“My washing machine is not on a shelf.”

“What if someone is trying to break through your gate?” Mom suggested.  Now that she mentioned it, the noise had sounded like a battering ram against our metal compound gate.  I stared at the dark windows two feet away, but I couldn’t see the flashlight beams of any thieves or assassins.  My mom hugged us through the netting.

“Liz!” I called.  “LIZ.”

My roommate stumbled out of the back room, rubbing her eyes.  “What is it?” she asked grumpily.

“Did you hear that crash?” I asked.

“No.”

Lindsay, Mom, and I all gasped.  “But it–it was so loud.”

Liz sighed.  “Do you want me to check outside?”

The three of us nodded desperately.  Liz had lived in Fatick a full year before I moved in with her.  She knew things.

Liz reemerged from her room with a flashlight.  She shone the light through the window and waved it across the yard twice.  “There’s nothing out there,” she announced, returning to her bedroom.

My mom still had her arms around Lindsay’s and my shoulders.  “Do you want me to pray for us?” she asked.

“Yes,” Lindsay said.  Mom prayed earnestly for our safety from…loud noises, then reluctantly went back to my room.  I let go of Lindsay’s arm and settled back into the mattress.  We lay there silently for several minutes.  Every normal sound suddenly felt dangerous.  Was that scraping sound someone crawling over the compound wall?  Were they going to tear away the window screen and shoot us from between the bars?

“Lindsay?  Are you still awake?” I whispered.

“Yeah,” she answered immediately.

“Do you want to…maybe move to the living room?” I suggested.

“Yes.”

We left the netting hanging from the ceiling and dragged the mattress into the living room at the back of the house.  There was now a wall between us and the dreaded windows, but my feet could still be seen through the doorway.  I curled into the fetal position and prayed that God would save me.

He did, because when we woke up, the sun had lit the house and Liz was standing over Lindsay and me.  “Are you serious?” she asked.

“We were scared!” I insisted.

“Of a noise?” she asked.

“A loud noise.”

Lindsay held her broken glasses to her face and exclaimed, “Oh good.  We’re still alive!”

Book Rec – 36 Views of Mount Fuji

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36viewsAt the top of my Dream Vacation list is Japan.  Why?  I don’t entirely know.  My general sense of Japanese culture is one of beauty, order, and peace.  I also like their tendency to make material goods as adorable as possible.  Japanese architecture resonates with some pagoda-shaped hole in my soul, and I want nothing so badly as to stand amongst a bajillion cherry blossom trees in full bloom.  Well-meaning idiots tell me there are cherry blossom trees in DC, but that is not what I want.

I feel like there is a good chance I am actually Japanese wrapped in American skin, a feeling that Cathy N. Davidson understands and shares.  Davidson is an American woman who lived in Japan four times over the course of a decade.  She is an introspective and honest writer, intent on both describing the country as well as her thoughts concerning what she sees.

I adored reading about someone who allows me to vicariously live through her adventures.  It is just enough to tide me over until I get a chance to visit Japan on my own.

Maleficient

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SO MANY SPOILERS AHEAD.  Don’t read if you don’t want to know literally every major plot point.

I was interested in seeing Maleficent, but I hadn’t actually thought to see it in theaters until a friend asked to see a movie and I thought, “Why not?”  I was so ignorant.  Maleficent blew me away with all the usually awesome movie stuff–excellent acting (Angelina Jolie is magnificent) and breath-taking fantasy landscapes and creatures.  But what solidified my love for the film was its beautiful feminist messages.

For starters, it is an undeniably female-driven movie.  Maleficent and Aurora are the center of everything.  The three fairies provide comic relief and a significant amount of screen time.  There are three male characters to round things out–men to round things out!  One as the sidekick to a female!  Oh my gosh, what a wonderful thing to see women as the stars of a fantasy epic, living adventurous stories and making terrible and wonderful decisions.

Second, Maleficent continues what Frozen began:  the assertion that love comes in many forms, and that female love relationships are just as strong as male-female romantic ones.  (It also continues a hesitancy to rely on the rape-like “true love’s kiss” while a person is unconscious.  I adored Prince Philip saying, “I don’t feel right about this!  I barely know her!” when the fairies urge him to kiss the sleeping Aurora.)  But he does kiss her, and nothing happens.  She’s still asleep.  And man, oh man, then Maleficent steps out, apologizes and cries and repents; she kisses the princess whom she loves and cares for, AND SLEEPING BEAUTY AWAKES.  True love’s kiss is one woman caring for another.

And most importantly, I was completely surprised by the entire plot.  Maleficent is essentially a rape allegory.  The young carefree fairy befriends a human boy.  She thinks she loves him and she trusts that he loves her back.  Years later, out of greed and ambition, he drugs her so that she falls asleep, physically violates her, taking something of hers without her permission, and when she wakes alone, she howls in physical and emotional agony.  Dear God, that scene was crazy painful.

Seeing the action as rape makes the movie so incredibly powerful.  Her vengeance is understandable.  I rooted for her to make the guy crawl.  Her turn to darkness is a bandage for her pain.  I was behind her 100%, even though I was uncomfortably aware that she was acting the villain.

But it doesn’t stop there!  Maleficent learns to love again, albeit by loving the child she cursed.  She saves the princess, risking her life in the process.  And then love saves her, quite literally.  The child she loves frees the wings that had been ripped from her, and in a burst of bright light, they reattach and Maleficent is whole again.

There is still, however, that pesky king rapist.  He attacks her in exactly the way he knows will hurt her, and clings to her as she tries to fly away.  I’m entirely sure that the fight scene at the end was probably nothing overwhelming or particularly epic.  But seeing it as an abuser and a rapist attacking his victim made me so uncomfortable.  I was cringing at the screen the whole time.  I honestly didn’t know what would happen, what I even wanted to happen.  Should she kill him?  YES, I WANT JUSTICE.  But that would turn her into the villain we assumed she was.  In the end, she breathes deeply and says, “It is over,” releasing him and turning away.  She chose FORGIVENESS.  Not in like, the way where everything is okay.  But in the real forgiveness way, where she chooses not to let him have a hold on her anymore, where the victim says, “I will not let you make me less than I am.”  It is SO AWESOME.  Of course, because justice is still demanded, he throws them both off the castle walls.  He, being a terrible rapist, falls to his death.  She, being a redeemed survivor with returned wings, flies away.  And it is soul-wrenchingly beautiful.

I loved this movie.  I loved it so hard, and I want to make everyone in the world see it.  I want people to empathize with the victims of assault, to despise those who violate others, to learn the painful lessons of forgiveness and loving again.  This movie was my everything!

Groupon

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My life before Groupon was a gloomy haze of full prices and routinized restaurants.  After I was exposed to the greatest deal-maker on the Interwebs, my life forever changed.  Half-price movie tickets, discounted oil changes, and 75% off horseback riding adventures!  Are you curious about Ethiopian food but unwilling to shell out more than $10 on a potentially disastrous meal?  No problem, Groupon has your back.

What does this have to do with traveling?

No matter if you live in a city Groupon covers or not, there is a good chance that the place you are visiting will be covered (at least, in the USA).  Before you head to Seattle or New York, check out Groupon for some unusual vacation options, like a Murder Mystery Dinner Show or Glass-Blowing Workshop.  It could save you a ton of money as well as introduce you to some unique tourist opportunities.

And then there is the holy grail of Groupon.  The Getaways page.  I check this category at least once a week, scrolling through location-based vacation deals with one hand and wiping away drool with the other.  There are gorgeous hotels available for reduced rates, but what really gets me excited are the international travel packages.  An 8-day Irish Vacation with Airfare & Rental Car for $899?  SHUT UP.

I have to include a caveat here.  Be careful!  Always click the green “See Options” button–sometimes the advertised low cost only applies to flying out of certain cities at certain times.  It is almost inevitable that you will have to buy a plane ticket to get you to the city from which the Groupon works.  It’s still entirely possible, however, to make the extra purchase and still save a bunch of money.

I used to think this was too good to be true.  But I went to St. Maarten because of a resort discount on Groupon.  Booking our room was easy, they knew us when we showed up, and payments went through without a problem.  I bought another Groupon for a hotel in Puerto Rico that I will use in December.  Hopefully it goes well–if not, I will write a follow up Travel Tip on how Groupon is the Worst Ever OMG.

Tricia Flips Out Over an Unfortunate Haircut

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January 2010 – Dakar, Senegal

When I decided to move to Senegal for five months and work with missionaries, I immediately focused on what really mattered:  my bangs.  I am extremely sensitive about my hair, a body image issue that formed during the hell that was middle school.  Despite the daily visual experience of seeing my wavy short hair fly away from my forehead in horrific cloud patterns, I kept cutting bangs for two years out of some misguided hope that tomorrow they would be different.  Later I vowed to never again be so naively optimistic.  If I was not going to have guaranteed access to a straightener, then I had to grow out my bangs to a normal hair length.

My roommate in Fatick had short bangs.  I watched her hair every day, looking so stinking cute.  It took less than one month for my resolve to crumble.  After all, the electricity was never off for more than a couple hours, and I could just not leave the house if I hadn’t had the chance to straighten my bangs.  In a fit of vanity and joy, I chopped off my newly elongated bangs and danced around the house.

“You look so great,” Liz said.

“We are bang twins!” I said, running back to the bathroom mirror to gaze at my beautiful hair.

I was especially excited because we had planned a trip the next weekend to Dakar, the capital of Senegal.  In the smaller town of Fatick, I wore ponjas (floor-length wrap-skirts) and no makeup.  In Dakar?  Oh man, in Dakar I could wear blue jeans.  I could coat my eyelids in color and feel American.  What better place to show off my newly amazing haircut?

Here is my blog post from that weekend:

NOOOOOOOO!!!

My straightener imploded.  I plugged it in, and it clicked.  Then it would not turn on, no matter how many outlets I tried and how hard Liz laughed.

It has betrayed me to my doom.  It worked fine on at least four occasions in Senegal.  But now it is no more.

And of course it would be just after I cut SHORT BANGS that don’t really clip back because they are SHORT.  Spontaneity is evil!  Messing with hair is evil!  My whole world is upside down.

The whole time I was falling around moaning and whining and yelling, Liz was laughing her butt off.  What a nice kindred spirit I have, to mock me in my pain!  Mocking me with “helpful” advice to wet them and comb them straight, only my hair is evil and refuses to bow to the rules of gravity.  They are not straight!  They CURL!  And the rest of my hair!  Is it wavy?  Is it straight?  Is it STUPID?

It was a stressful time.  And those people who teased me about focusing on my hair in preparation for working with missionaries instead of, oh, praying or doing something spiritual, well, screw them.  Clearly I was right to overthink my hair choices, and rest assured that I will never not plan a trip around my hair length ever again.

Travel Tip – Take Advantage of Your Friends

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The worst part of traveling is all the money it requires.  It’s a necessary evil to pay for airfare, but there’s a good chance you can at least avoid paying for lodging.  After all, what are friends for if not to save you money?

Obviously, the ideal situation is to have friends living in all the places you want to visit.  Preferably with a furnished guest bedroom.  Unfortunately, this is unlikely to happen.  Instead of forcing your friends to move to your vacation hot spots, try to get interested in where they are.  Every city has its charm, though sometimes you have to search for a while to find it.  If your friends live in a different country than most of their family and friends, they are probably desperate for someone to visit them.  See?  This is not an entirely selfish exploitation.

Another way to take advantage of your friends is by manipulating them into joining you on your trip.  This doesn’t help if you are flying, but the more friends you can cram into a car on a roadtrip, the more ways those gas bills are going to be split.  When you get to your destination, it’s also helpful to split the cost of a hotel room.  That queen-sized bed can fit three people if you try hard enough.  And the too-small armchair is perfect for your short friend.  You might as well put someone in the bathtub and a few on the floor while you’re at it.  Pretty soon you’re paying pennies for lodging!

A final option for the truly shameless is to guilt-trip your friends into paying for your vacation altogether.  Remind that college bestie of all the times you stayed up with her during her breakup.  Doesn’t she owe you for that conditional love?  It’s time to pay up.

Video Rec – HeyUSA

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Although my passion is primarily about traveling outside of the United States, HeyUSA–an internet series in which Grace Helbig and Mamrie Hart travel around ‘Murica–may have changed my mind.  They are two of the funniest people I’ve ever had the pleasure to experience, and I’ll be honest–I could do with more travel shows making me choke on my own laughter.  The two besties travel through Alaska, Louisville, Texas, New Orleans, Provincetown, Arizona, Portland, and Los Angeles, showing off the best, the worst, and the weird in each place.  I’m hard pressed to think of anything that better conveys the joy of traveling better than Grace and Mamrie.

Noah Gundersen

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Last night I saw Noah Gundersen in concert.  I fell in love with his music the second I heard “Jesus, Jesus,” which perfectly expresses my doubts and discomforts with Christianity while also clinging to a hoped for hope.

https://youtube.googleapis.com/v/n_ztTzvqcZg&source=uds

When I finally got around to listening to the rest of his music, I was blown away by his ability to honestly relate the highs and lows of life with a wisdom that digs beneath the obvious.  In “Isaiah” he describes a relationship with a girl who has a boyfriend.  He manages to convey the ambivalence of wanting the relationship and knowing it’s wrong.  The chorus repeats Isaiah 41:10, “Fear thou not, my right hand will hold you, fear thou not.”  The first time it is an excuse, a get out of jail free card, and as the song progresses into regret and conviction, it becomes a truth to which he clings in the midst of sin.  I mean, this guy blows me away.

And he’s even more fantastic in person.  His passion pours off the stage.  He is absolutely captivating.  And the joy of live music comes from hearing your favorite songs in real time, watching emotions play across an artist’s face as they share their soul with a crowd of strangers.  So when he played the opening chords of “Jesus, Jesus” I was thrilled.  It was better than I expected, however, as we were privileged to hear Noah’s alterations to the song, something I can only assume reflects his spiritual progression.

The last verse of “Jesus, Jesus” is this:

“Jesus, Jesus, I’m still looking for answers
Though I know that I won’t find them here tonight
But Jesus, Jesus, could you call me if you have the time?
And maybe we could meet for coffee and work it out
And maybe then I’ll understand what it’s all about”

But what he sang was this:

“Jesus, Jesus, I’m still looking for answers
And I think I always will be
But Jesus, Jesus, could you call me if you have the time?
And maybe we could meet for whiskey and work it out
And maybe then I’ll understand,
Maybe then I’ll understand,
Maybe then I’ll understand
You.”

It’s probably powerful enough to let the contrasts sit there, but what is a blog for if not unnecessarily sharing opinions?  And I have to, because I love the changes.  First he acknowledges that not only will the doubts go unsolved tonight, but–they’re always going to exist.  Then he changes out coffee for whiskey, reflecting a darker sensibility, and awareness that this is heavy stuff, not something for a casual coffee date.  Not only that, but he trusts that Jesus would join him for whiskey, would be comfortable joining him where he is: in a bar, silencing his pain.

And finally, my favorite change.  Whereas first Noah sings about understanding “what it’s all about” he finally decides that he wants to understand “you.”  There will always be questions and he will always want answers (don’t we all?), but in the end, he knows those aren’t sufficient.  You can have all the answers in the world to the problems presented in the song, but answers won’t solve anything unless you know the Person who is giving the answers.

Noah is probably not a Christian, from what my concert-mates told me.  But his song speaks volumes of truth to me, reminding me that having arguments are secondary to resting in Jesus.  If I can understand him, the contradictions and worries will fall away.  I’m so honored to have been able to listen to Noah’s heartbeat so that mine can fall into his cadence.

Captain America: Winter Soldier

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I have a new obsession, and it is Captain America: Winter Soldier.  This is surprising, because his first movie is my least favorite in the Marvel universe, and he was by far the least interesting Avenger in The Avengers.  I went to see his newest movie out of brand loyalty, but I went to see it a second time because I fell in love.  This film covers all of my interests, creating a perfect storm of a story that draws me back again and again (and again?).

Hot People

Let’s get the obvious out of the way:  Superheroes are almost always unbearably attractive.  As Amy Poehler said in her wonderful vlog about body positivity, “There are only five perfectly symmetrical people, and they’re all movie stars.  And they should be, because their faces are very pleasing to look at.”  Captain America is inhumanly muscled, Black Widow is effortlessly gorgeous, Falcon is hot and funny, and then there is the Winter Soldier.  Since when did unwashed hair and metal appendages become so attractive to me?  I just–I cannot talk about him anymore, or I will fall into paroxysms of adulation.

Even better?  The narrative allows these hot people to work together without assuming romance must naturally ensue.  Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanov, aka the pinnacle of human perfection re: male and female, flirt a bit and comment about how of course the other is attractive, but it always remains friendly.  I mean, the running joke between them is Natasha trying to set Steve up, which A) establishes them as buddies, and B) establishes that she does not want to be set up with him herself.  Give me more platonic best friend superheroes!  (Except when it comes to Black Widow and Hawkeye.  Please tell me her arrow necklace has a hidden meaning.)

Symbolism

This is the most difficult of my interests to express with other movie watchers.

Me:  Did you notice that Captain America uses the same move to attack his first and last opponents in the movie!?
Hypothetical Movie Watcher:  No, why does that matter?
Me:  It just–nicely bookends the movie!  And what about those two bullet holes, eh?  “Cut off one head, and two spring up” amiright?
HMW:  I don’t think that matters.
Me:  BUT IT’S INTERESTING TO THINK ABOUT.

Minority Representation

This is maybe my favorite thing about CA:WS.  The five main heroes in the film are 1) a white man, 2) a white woman, 3) a black man, 4) another black man, and 5) another white woman.  Five heroes and only ONE is a white man?  BLOW ME DOWN.  I cannot even express how much this means to me.  Contrast this film with The Avengers, in which our six main heroes are…five white guys and one white girl.

It’s no secret that Black Widow is my favorite Avenger, and it doesn’t take much imagination to figure out why.  In a world of hyper masculine superheroes, Natasha Romanov uses her intelligence, wit, flexibility, and lower body strength to overpower dozens of bad guys.  She is badass and feminine.  When I watch a superhero movie, I fall in love with the superheroes, but here was a superheroine represented who I am.  I could be her.

The second time I watched CA:WS, I sat next to a black woman and her son, and every time Falcon came on screen, they cracked up (I mean, so did I, that man is a gift to humanity) and cheered.  It made me so excited, because here was a face they could map themselves onto.  (Although it needs to be said–where was the black woman superhero?  And on and on.)

Maybe this seems inconsequential.  Instead of defending myself, I will quote Anthony Mackie aka Falcon.

Q: How do you feel about being the first African-American superhero?
AM: It’s funny you should ask that. [LAUGHS] It’s cool. When I was a kid, I really didn’t have a person I could look at, other than my dad, and be like, “Hey, I want to be that guy and fly through the window.” You couldn’t be like 7 years old and say, “Who do you want to be for Halloween?” “Shaft!”
So [LAUGHS] you know, it’s really exciting. When I first got this role I just cried like a baby because I was like, “Wow, next Halloween, I’m gonna open the door and there’s gonna be a little kid dressed as the Falcon.” That’s the thing that always gets me. I feel like everybody deserves that. I feel like there should be a Latino superhero. Scarlett does great representation for all the other girls, but there should be a Wonder Woman movie. I don’t care if they make 20 bucks, if there’s a movie you’re gonna lose money on, make it Wonder Woman. You know what I mean, ’cause little girls deserve that. There’s so many of these little people out here doing awful things for money in the world of being famous. And little girls see that. They should have the opposite spectrum of that to look up to.

(Legitimate) Man Pain

Man pain is defined by Urban Dictionary as follows:  “When a grown man has the emotional life of an angsty teenager he is said to be experiencing manpain, especially if he tries to compensate with macho behavior.  There are many causes of manpain ranging from violently killed family member/mentor/lover(s) to a broken heart to absent parental figures or even a history of sexual and/or physical abuse.  Manpain is generally expressed in the following ways: breaking shit, drinking too much, picking fights in bars, becoming a costumed superhero and taking long drives while listening to wailing guitars. For the less violent it can be expressed by remaining stone-faced while flexing jaw muscles, staring broodingly into the middle distance and crying a single tear.”

I don’t like man pain.  It’s ridiculous.  But Captain America?  Is a man and is in legitimate pain.  He is pretty okay at adjusting to waking up in a new era, but the fact that all his friends and love interests are dead or dying?  Well, that’s harder to swallow.  The difference between Steve Rogers and MANPAIN protagonists is that Steve Rogers doesn’t let this pain drive him to drama and selfishness.  The story deals with his loneliness and depression very compellingly (I mean, the poor guy can’t even think of something that makes him happy), but he does not let his pain wall him off in a cocoon of “you don’t understand me!”  Instead, he checks in with other people, asking Black Widow how she is coping with a big reveal and tactfully remembering Falcon’s fallen comrade.  They’re all in pain, and no one person’s pain is allowed to take center stage and dominate everyone else’s.

Violence

The other day I was talking about violence with the boy I nanny and how I wouldn’t want to shoot someone if they were robbing me.  He gave me a skeptical look and asked, “If you don’t like violence, how come you like superhero movies so much?”  Touche, ten-year-old.  This question was on my mind during my second viewing of CA:WS because the fight scenes in this movie are beautiful.  It wasn’t until I realized that they could easily be described as balletic that I realized it was the choreography more than anything that amazed me.  Black Widow and Captain America are two of the most graceful superheroes created.  Pairing them against someone like the Winter Soldier, who is raw power and force, creates a fantastic opportunity to show off some really amazing human movement.  This especially became true during the final fight scene when things get much more realistic–I couldn’t watch.  I don’t like real violence.  But when fight scenes play like dances, I am riveted.

Patriotism

I tend not to be very patriotic.  When I think of the United States, I think of political infighting between Democrats and Republicans.  I think of global bully, and materialism, and entitlement.  So a superhero whose name is Captain America?  He was fighting an uphill battle to my heart from the beginning.  But the joke’s on me, because this stalwart protector of patriotism won me over.  Listening to him make a speech about sacrifice for the sake of someone else’s freedom made me proud to be an American like no fireworks display ever did.  America is powerful, and when we use that power against others or for ourselves, I get mighty squeamish.  But this new (old?) brand of patriotism that says we ought to use our power sacrificially?  I am ALL ABOUT THAT.

This leads me to my absolute favorite scene in the film, a scene featuring a nobody tech guy who hears Captain America’s message and subsequently struggles to do the right thing at risk of his life.  It is beautiful and painful and awe-inspiring.  If that’s what it means to be an American, well then, count me in.