Tuesday, April 27, 2010

Medias Res

There’s this episode of Scrubs where Elliot discovers that a big part of what makes her so miserable is that fact that she never stops talking about her misery.


Although on some level, I believe it may be more honorable to muddle through your misery with quiet musings of immeasurable wisdom, I took the path better trodden.


For the past five months, I did what I actually do quite well by now: I grit my teeth, put my head down, and bore it. The sad truth is that I am not strong enough to endure both hope and despair at the same time; or, perhaps I am indeed that strong, but my already sapped reserves could not find the strength to speak and write about the hope I found living alongside despair.


As you can see, I’ve already been overrun by metaphor.


On a personal and professional level, I am coming to find that these past two years mean very little to my potential employers, and as you may infer from my last post, this has also been difficult.


I’m not sure when or where the stories from the past two years will come out, but I like to think that they will emerge once I am removed from the situation. While for some, writing is an act of catharsis; I usually find that for me, writing is an act of summation and understanding. I find it hard to write when I am confused, in medias res. I prefer the story: beginning, middle, and end.


With three weeks left of the semester, I am near the end, but still close enough to the middle that I lack the clarity to tell the story of my last five months. The story requires a careful balance of hope and despair, but for now, I will speak and feel no misery.


Dad asked, "What happens when the carpetbagger goes home?"


She leaves again.

April: An Itinerary is Born

April.


Week One: I discovered that I will not be able to enter the graduate program at the U of M next year. I will not be able to teach in the state of Minnesota without student teaching. In sum, I will not teach again until the fall of 2012, and before then, I must complete 15 months of coursework.


Week Two: Abject despair.


Week Three: Weeping. Abject despair. Bitter regret.


Week Four: “Hey honey, let’s travel for six months. We could go to Nepal,” says Joshua. The next night, we drive to Borders and buy the Lonely Planet travel guides to India, Nepal, Cycling Britain, Ireland, Spain, and Trekking in Nepal. Five nights later, we buy round trip tickets from Minneapolis to London; we depart on June 24 and we return six months later, on December 21.


The Itinerary (pre-natal stage):


Fly from Minneapolis to London on June 24, and spend ten days with family in the city. On July 3, fly from London to Dublin with Ashlee and spend the day walking through the city. For the next three days, walk from Malroy to Knockree, Knockree to Roundwood, and Roundwood to Glenmalure, staying in hostels along the way. On our fifth day in Ireland, return to Dublin, drink a Guinness, and listen to live traditional and contemporary music.


On the morning of July 8, board the plan and fly to Seville, Spain. Spend the next ten days roaming through Andalucia: Cordoba, Granada, Sierra Nevada, Almeria, and Cabo de Gata. Bathe in traditional Moorish Hammam, swim in the Mediterranean, and eat Gazpacho. Take the bus up the coast to Alicante. Visit salt flats and blue, green, and pink lagoons. See flamingos. Fly back to London on July 19.


Next, retrieve our bikes, and catch the train to the southern tip of England. Begin biking. For the next month, bike northwards. Along the way, see the Cotswolds, my aunt and uncle, Eric, the Lake District, my other aunt, and family friends. Eat cheese and bread and fruit. Keep biking. Arrive in Scotland, and again, keep biking. Bike north until we reach John O’Groats, and then stop. Turn around. Head south by train, back to London.


Prepare for the next leg of the journey. Store bikes. Divide baggage. Shave off all our hair.


Fly to Delhi. Once in Delhi, fly to Leh in the northernmost province of India, Jammu Kashmir. Trek through the Piedmont of the Himalaya. Walk through the still vibrant markets of the Silk Road, and eat Tibetan cuisine. Journey south by bus through valleys and over high passes. Arrive in Dharamsala.


In McLeod Ganj, or Upper Dharamsala, take yoga classes, hike through the surrounding mountains, and if we’re lucky, listen to the Dali Lama speak. Hop a bus to Manali, and then another to Rishikesh. Visit the Ashram where the Beatles wrote their White Album, stay in another Ashram for three days. Commune with monkeys, yogis, and gurus.


Next, the jungle. Ride an elephant and catch a glimpse of the rare Bengal Tiger. Keep moving. Catch the train to Gorakhpur, and then board a bus over the Nepali border. Head for Kathmandu. Stay two days, and see the Monkey Temple, pagodas, gompas, and mindar. From Kathmandu, ride a bus to the start of the Annapurna Circuit. Spend the next thirty days wandering through the high and remote villages of the Himalaya. Sleep in tea houses, drink traditional Sherpa beer, and bathe in mountain streams. Hike through the Annapurna Sanctuary to Annapurna Base camp.


At the end of the road, find Pokhar. Greet Nepali barbers, have a shower, and eat like kings. Head east.


In Darjeeling, sample teas from estates, watch the sunrise over the Himalaya, and roam high mountain markets. Board the Himalayan Railway. At Silguri, head west, stopping to take a boat ride along the Ganges and watch the bathing Ghats in Varnasi. At Ajantra, gaze at the Taj Mahal. Should time provide, take a safari on camel back through the Muslim desert of northwestern India.


Back in Delhi, ascend the minaret of the largest mosque in India, watch the Sufis chant at sunset, and see a Bollywood film in an outdoor theater. Fly back to London.


Celebrate Hanukkah with family. Gather our things. Fly home on December 21.