The Audacity of Resilience

To anyone dealing with personal or professional struggles in their lives, here's a short verse I wrote this evening reflecting on my own personal journey this year. Maybe worth reflecting upon alongside your favourite glass of wine :) Share it with one another if it strikes a chord somewhere. 

The Audacity of Resilience

Ask not why it happened to you; 

Ask rather how you can be a better, kinder and wiser person because of it. 

Listen. Wisdom cometh like a good samaritan in the dead of night - be awake to hear it speak. 

Question not if you are deserving of any of it; 

Question rather if you are strong enough not to run, ruminate or be rescued. 

Breathe. Even when the voice of sadness and loneliness suffocates you - rise up and take comfort in knowing that your mind is the only limitation to your significance. 

Seek not just the commiseration and consolation of friends; 

Seek also the harsh truth and candour of those that do not know of you or your pain. 

Heal. Slowly and completely. A broken heart cannot hold another without protecting itself first. 

Judge not the actions of those who have caused you hurt or sorrow; 

Judge rather the capability of you to forgive them for what they may or may not know. 

Preserve. Persevere. The pain and sorrow of hurt is never worth the destruction of your soul. 

Some call it hope.

Others call it faith. 

To me it simply is - the Audacity of Resilience.

Italy, Spain, Portugal - August 2010: A Road Less Taken

Aug 10
This is my fourth trip to Europe, but is by far the longest, most explored and most enjoyed. First stop – Amsterdam. I arrive here nearly 24 hours after I’d left Cape Town the previous night. Exhausted, but it is Amsterdam after all – there’s a lot to look forward to. Lorenzo meets me at the airport after driving up from Milan and stopping overnight in Luxembourg. As luck would have it, my luggage got lost in Dubai so had to make do without it. 40 euros in compensation is worth a bit of pleasure later on, so no complaints. We park Lorenzo’s Fiat Punto in Sloterdijk (We both challenged ourselves to remember the name 2 days later when we’d eventually return to pick the car up). Clearly it sounded a lot like ‘Slaughter Dick’ so that saved us when we got back :) We take a train to the city center and the rain starts to pour. Bummer. Amsterdam really is a pretty town, even its railway station. That says a lot. After a lot of twists and turns we finally manage to find our way to our hostel, Hotel Euphemia - a nice backpackers’ lodge, affordable and centrally located. The latter is very important when you’re in Amsterdam – trust me. After a nice filling dinner at a Thai restaurant, I discover that my Canon camera has all of a sudden stopped to work thanks to some rainwater having somehow seeped into the lens. Perfect. Great start to Europe. On hindsight, probably not the worst thing to happen actually. The only photo from my Amsterdam phase of the trip is one of me and Lorenzo blissfully devouring our Satays and Pad Thais at the restaurant. The visual aspects of the rest of the Amsterdam sojourn can be best left to one’s imagination. Next followed a customary visit to a traditional coffee shop. Good times. Amsterdam is a small city and very environmentally responsible. So I wasn’t surprised to discover that a lot of people use bikes to get around town. I actually think there might be more bikes than cars here. Tourists - beware infringing upon the paths reserved for bike lanes – it really is like a car lane - you will bear the wrath of most locals if you do not stick to the footpath. The rest of the night was rather uneventful - the rain hampered a lot of our travel within the city, but suffice to say that there was enough of a show that night from yours truly to make up for the wet weather..

Aug 11
Bright and sunny skies mark a great start to the day. We go for a walk around town past the Rijksmuseum and the Van Gogh Museum, the park nearby is a great place to stroll and soak in the sights and sounds of Amsterdam. There was a four hour line to get in to Van Gogh, and given that I’d probably seen most of his famous works while they were on loan at the Met in New York, I decided this was a sure skip. At noon, Lorenzo and I decide to go to a different kind of museum. House of Bols – one of the oldest distilleries in the world - as their website says: The House of Bols is an adventure of the senses and an initiation into the world of cocktails and bartending. A Cocktail and Genever experience like none other. We had to pay 11 euros each for a tour (which we hurried through quickly), a delicious blended cocktail and two shots. Not bad for a weekday afternoon drink huh? After lunch, we headed to the largest and most popular of the 30 parks in the city, Vondelpark. Vondelpark is loved by Amsterdammers as well as by tourists, and is full of people - enjoying a sunny day, dog-walking, jogging, roller-skating, listening to music, people-watching, or just lazing about in grass. I saw a hippie playing ‘Norwegian Wood’ in the grass and couldn’t resist giving him 2 euros. That’s what happens when Europe’s lowest monetary denomination in currency form is 5 euros. Coins are a nuisance to carry around. If this were Central Park in New York he would have to be happy with 25c. Oh well. With the sun beating down and a gentle breeze beginning to blow, we decided it was the perfect time to go on a 2 hour cruise along the famous canals that will really give you a feel of what Amsterdam is all about. Apart from the fact that you get to hear the guided commentary in 7 different languages, it was quite enjoyable. No pictures of course, fortunately or unfortunately. Another really fun and relaxing thing to do if you’re in no rush to see anything particular is to just stroll around the big city squares, the best of which are Dam Square, Rembrandtplein and Leidseplein. Very lively with lots of cafes, restaurants, entertainment and nightlife. Speaking of entertainment, how could we not go past the Red Light District that covers a large area of the oldest part of the city. The buildings are tall, thin and crowd together, overlooking the tree lined canals. It actually is a beautiful area and the later it gets, the busier it gets. And the darker it gets, the more obvious the glow of the fluorescent red lights above the many windows in the area becomes. Finally keeping in mind we had a whole day of a road-trip to Milan ahead of us, we decided to call it a night, grabbed a quick bite of sushi and headed back to the hotel. And yes, what more of a pleasing sight than to see my lost luggage waiting for me at the hotel..

Aug 12
Woke up at the crack of dawn. Lorenzo was at the wheel and drove more than 1,000 km to get to Milan. Passed through Germany and spent an hour in frozen traffic on the interstate after a major accident. Passed through the Gotthard Road Tunnel in Switzerland, the third longest in the world at 16.4 km. Drove through Basel which is unique in the fact that it is a town that passes through France, Italy and Switzerland. Knowing Lorenzo, he made sure he stayed out of the French side :) around 9ish, we got to Casarate, his dad’s home close to Milan and we were treated to an exquisite supper in an old tavern-style trattoria. My first taste of horsemeat and chocolate salami 

Aug 13
D-Day: The day the ‘Boss’ (as Lorenzo affectionately calls Nina) arrives from Washington. Nina texts him saying her flight is delayed so Lorenzo, his sister Clarissa and I go to the Milan Fiera and I end up finally buying a new camera. Not any ordinary camera, but a Fuji 30x Zoom Digital SLR for ~600 USD. I am officially crazy. Looking back though, it was well worth it. Got some amazing shots on the trip. For a person who at that point was both jobless and homeless, it was a good thing to have some sort of material possession worth something.. Anyways, later in the day we head to Malpensa to pick up Nina armed with a giant-sized poster of her, Lorenzo, Vincent and I from our shenanigans in Cape Town. Was quite the ruckus at the arrivals terminal with passersby wondering what on earth two blokes were doing holding up and hiding behind a placard with a blown up picture on it :) And Nina’s special travel read for the trip – a book of dirty Italian phrases. How appropriate :) Vaffanculo! From there we headed straight to Lorenzo’s home town of Reggio Emilia where we met Nonna, Nonno, Fede, and the family dog Full. Lorenzo’s grandparents are absolutely amazing and he had them put on quite a show during dinner, making them read out sentences in English (they speak only Italian) such as “Fede is fat”, “The lasagna is on the table” (spoof from a language learning program), and having Nonna try beyond her wits to pronounce the word “vuvuzela” ;) The tortelli and lasagna that Nonna made were sumptuous! Was a great time getting to meet and talk to them especially to hear stories of WW II from Nonno. We later went for a walk around town, the piazzas and the streets around that looked very very pretty. Even the smallest towns in Italy are so beautiful, it has to this day never ceased to amaze me.

Aug 14
We wake up, pack up our bags and the three of us head out to Tuscany for a 6-day trip into the heart of this beautiful region of Italy. First stop is a quaint town up in the hills of southern Tuscany called Monteriggioni. Monteriggioni is a medieval walled town, located on a natural hill in the Siena province of Tuscany – which was built by the Sienese in the early 13th century as a front line in their wars against Florence. It’s surrounded by a stunning row of curtain walls fortified by 14 towers – really like being in medieval Europe in the middle of a war. The three of us spent most of the time walking around the town soaking in the stunning Tuscan landscape around us – hills, valleys, glorious sunsets and the many Agriturismo sites around. After a delicious lunch at a local trattoria that lasted over two hours (obviously, this is Italy), we went for a stroll into the woods outside the walls surrounding Monteriggioni. I remember this was where we went off on a tangent talking about how the three of us at that point in our lives were jobless, homeless and close to penniless and that my 600 dollar camera was the only thing that we could possibly pawn at the time. Ha! It was then that all of a sudden both Nina and I began to reminisce about some cheesy ‘i-bankerisms’ that we hadnt heard in a long long time. ‘Back of the envelope’, ‘touch base’, ‘add colour’, ‘apples and oranges’ and all that ridiculous rubbish. Anyways, over to more interesting things – we then found a place to stay in a nearby guesthouse where a group of pilgrims happened to have stopped on their way to Santiago de Compostella, a popular Catholic pilgrimage in honor of St. James. A quick ride out of town, a couple of glasses of wine and pizza later, and we decided to call it a night. Nina’s first taste of rural Italy (I guess).

Aug 15
It’s Ferragosto, one of the biggest national holidays in Italy celebrating the middle of the summer and the end of hard labour in the fields. We had to be in Siena that night for the biggest and oldest traditional horse race in the world, the Palio of Siena on Aug 16th. We had a bit of time on our hands, so we decided to drive to another beautiful city slightly north called San Gimignano, a town declared by UNESCO to be part of the World's Architectural Heritage. San Gimignano rises on a hill dominating the Elsa Valley with its towers. It has a rich and unique history and culture, and was even visited in 1300 by Dante Alighieri (of the Divine Comedy) as the Ambassador of the Guelph League in Tuscany. In the middle of the 14th century though, its population was drastically reduced by the Black Death Plague throwing the city into a serious crisis which eventually led to its submission to Florence. In the following centuries San Gimignano overcame its decline and isolation when its beauty and cultural importance together with its agricultural heritage were rediscovered. We spent most of the afternoon discovering the many sights around town, and had yet another leisurely traditional Tuscan lunch. I had my first taste of Cantucci e Vin Santo, a delicious Tuscan dessert of almond biscotti dipped in sweet white wine. Oooh. Not to be missed. It was then that I decided I’d check my email after more than 4 days or so. Nina’s blackberry was obviously my weapon of choice and the first thing I see in my inbox is a note from the guy in Cape Town that I’d been renting my car from. Apparently we’d accumulated half a dozen speeding fines while we were driving through the 1000 km Garden Route a month or so earlier. It came up to around 200 dollars, but Lorenzo and I just laughed it away saying we were in Italy having a blast, to hell with speeding fines in South Africa - if we had to pay it, we’d pay it. End of story.
We get in to Siena later that afternoon and after rounds and rounds of trying to find a parking spot, we finally found one and checked into our hotel – an unbelievable spot barely a 2 min walk from the Palio square. Siena is undoubtedly one of the most beautiful towns in Tuscany, if not in the whole of Italy. And if you happen to be in Siena during the Palio di Siena, you should forever count yourself one of the luckiest people in the world. A trial run was held early that evening amidst a stunning backdrop of the city plaza. My best guess was that there were at least a 100,000 visitors to Siena that weekend in addition to the almost-fanatical local Sienese cheering on their respective Contrade or city wards. The Palio di Siena (known locally simply as Il Palio) is a horse race held twice each year on July 2 and August 16 in Siena, Italy, in which ten horses and riders, bareback and dressed in the appropriate colours, represent ten of the seventeen Contrade. The Palio held on July 2 is named Palio di Provenzano, in honour of the Madonna of Provenzano, who has a church in Siena. The Palio held on August 16 is named Palio dell'Assunta, in honour of the Assumption of Mary. A magnificent pageant, the Corteo Storico, precedes the race, which attracts hundereds of thousands of visitors and spectators from around the world. That night, the contrada that we were part of (L’Onda) had a traditional pre-race day dinner in which the people of the contrada together with the jockey and the manager would feast, sing and celebrate the anticipation of victory the following day. Quite an unbelievable spectacle. Five courses of food later, we were done for the night and were back in the hotel getting ready for a day of spectacular festivities to come.

Aug 16
You could sense the excitement and nervousness in the air the whole of the next morning and afternoon as each contrada trotted their supporters, colors and flags around. The race itself was only supposed to start at 7pm that night before sunset, but the buzz and show around town was incredible. This is a big, highly charged, emotional day for the entire Sienese population and you could not help but feel part of it. We had lunch at a really nice café and then Lorenzo and I headed to Piazza del Campo, the main Palio square. Unless you get in to the main square before 4 pm it is impossible to get a standing spot inside. The arena around the racetrack has seats that usually go for 400 to 500 euros a spot and tend to sell out months before the event. The hotels and houses that surround the Palio square usually have rooms at 2,000+ euros a night. Clearly with only a camera worth 600 USD we coudlnt afford any of that luxury. Ahem. Staying in a crowded Palio square for 3-4 hours is probably best comparable to being at Times Square on New Years Eve, except that here you at least get to see the oldest, grandest horse race in the world instead a piece of fake crystal drop down from a giant bowl of soup. We did come across a bunch of young crazy drunk tourists right next to us that almost made us want to leave. One of them was passed out and throwing up and another decided to relieve herself right in the middle of the square. This is exactly what tourism should NOT be about. Oh well. With the carabineri (local Italian paramilitary forces) having made their way through the race track on horseback, everything was set for a race start around 7pm. But as we learned is usually the case, there is a lot of hustling for space, infighting and pushing between horses and jockeys (all lending to the intense drama of the Palio) right after the order of horses is announced. The jockeys ride bareback, circle the Piazza del Campo, on which a thick layer of dirt has been laid, three times and it usually lasts no more than 90 seconds. It is not uncommon for a few of the jockeys to be thrown off their horses while making the treacherous turns in the piazza, and indeed it is not unusual to see unmounted horses finishing the race without their jockeys. This time around, there was no shortage of controversy as the lead jockey seemed to have brokered a deal with the last jockey (who gets to decide when the race starts – how convenient!) The race was unbelievable. From start to finish. The contrada that eventually won was one called Tartuca (which means Turtle in Italian). The end of the race was crazy. Hoards and hoards of Tartuca supporters rushed out into the race track and I found myself barely getting out of their way in what could have been a stampede.. I did remember though that I’d met a really nice, sweet girl in the middle of the Palio who’d graduated a few years ago from Brown University in Rhode Island, and was heading to Goettingen in Germany to study bioengineering. I think her name was Tanya. Very cute. Spoke to her for a good half hour or so and was going to ask her out to dinner with us. The mini-stampede at the end of the race meant that no numbers were exchanged. What a shame. Oh well. The wine flowed and it flowed non-stop that night. Tartuca was a miraculous place to be post-race night. I think I may have had the most sumptuous meal of my trip that night at a local osterria in Tartuca. Much later that night Lorenzo, Nina and I after visiting Tartuca’s museum headed back to the Palio square to get a glimpse of it at night with all the Tartuca supporters singing and dancing. In a moment of sheer impulse (quite normal for me), I decided to run my own Palio and did a brisk 3-minute run around the racetrack. Bare foot. Ahem, this should be recorded somewhere. Crazy Ronnie. Fun times though. A little past 2 am, and we were ready to hit the sack.

Aug 17
We wake up and drive from Siena to Piombino, a small industrial town on the western coast of Tuscany. Nothing significant here except that it is the port form which ferries leave to the islands of Elba and Sardinia. An hour later, we arrive in Portoferraio, the main port in Elba. The views from the boatride across were exquisite. Lorenzo’s friends Camu and Colla were staying at a beautiful beachhouse close to Marina di Campo, one of the main beaches on this beautiful island where Napolean was exiled for ~300 days. Camu’s summer house is gorgeous. We spent some time relaxing there and then headed to the beach. The water along the Italian coast (esp on the Tyrrhenian and Mediterranean coasts) are amazingly warm and awesome to swim in. Marina di Campo was surprisingly quite crowded given this isn’t that popular of a tourist spot as other famous beaches in Italy are. I gather the economic recession really did take its toll and people were opting for cheaper, less well-known destinations to holiday. German was the second most spoken language there. Germany doesn’t have much of a coast except the North Sea and you will freeze if you try to swim in the North Sea. Unless of course your name is Lewis Gordon Pugh. In which case, you will make the North Sea warmer. Gradually. We stopped by a nice focacceria on our way home from the beach and had a really nice dinner with Camu and Colla at a restaurant right by the docks that night. Delicious polpetti con patate (octopus and potatoes) and a host of other seafood.

Aug 18
Woke up the next morning and went for a long run along the beach and up the road through the hilly countryside. Was the perfect escape whilst the rest of the crew was sleeping in. I needed a bit of adrenalin pumping. You WILL put on those pounds otherwise. Again, this is Italy. My fourth time here and I’m all too aware that food is a religion here. When everyone was ready to start their day, we headed over to a beautiful, small and less crowded beach called Golfo Stella. Lovely drive down the hillside and nice walk down to the shore. While we walked back, I remember Nina, Lorenzo and I arguing about Bob Marley and how he died. And yes, he did NOT die while jogging in Central Park, New York. Very random indeed. Anyways, our next stop was an amazing beach called Golfo della Lacona that is so incredibly beautiful I had to stop and buy a postcard later that evening. We ended up paddling out into the sea for an hour or so and trying to stay away from the throngs of jellyfish or ‘medusa’ as they call it in Italian that hovered in the deep waters around. On our way back ashore, we met up with Lorenzo’s other really close friends Filo, Ferro and Nico. All of them super cool and fun. We stopped by on our way to get food and loads of alcohol for the night. 8 of us at home that night, eating some delicious seafood pasta, grilled fish and washing it down with local wine and some mojitos that Nina made. Great great times that lasted late into the night, circa 4 am or so. What a beautiful patio that was too.

Aug 19
After a nice grand breakfast, we said our goodbyes to Lorenzo’s friends and left for the port to catch our ferry. Little side note – I ended up falling asleep atop the ferry (clearly the run the previous day coupled with the 3 hours of sleep the previous night had taken its toll). Lorenzo had to come rush and get me before the ferry started its return trip back to Elba. Oh well. The show must go on, right? We then drove to Rimini on the Adriatic coast. Rimini is one of the biggest party-towns in Italy. Having been there a year ago, I knew all too well that I wanted to stay away from the teenagers and young folk that go crazy every summer along the long coastline. Elizabeth (my good friend from Vienna who had lived in New York for 3 months earlier) and her friend Raphael had just gotten to Rimini that afternoon and were staying at a campsite. Was really nice getting to see Liz again and the three of us went for a walk on the beach and got a nice dinner later that night, after which I slept over at the campsite.

Aug 20
San Marino: A micro-state landlocked within Italy, it is supposedly the oldest surviving sovereign state and constitutional republic in the world, as the continuation of a monastic community founded on 3 September 301, by a stonecutter called Marinus of Rab. It takes about an hour to get here from Rimini along a beautiful winding road up the mountains. A city steeped in historic and cultural significance since medieval times, San Marino is a perfect half-day getaway from the craziness of Rimini, especially on a hot summer’s day in August. The biggest highlight of the state are the Three Towers of San Marino located on the three peaks of Monte Titano in the capital city also called the City of San Marino. The Guaita is the oldest of the three towers, and the most famous. It was constructed in the 11th century and served briefly as a prison. The second tower, Cesta, is located on the highest of Monte Titano's summits and has a museum to honor Saint Marinus. The third tower, Montale, is located on the smallest of Monte Titano's summits. The views from here were stunning and makes for a nice 2-3 hour walk that I thoroughly enjoyed. Late afternoon I took a train back to Rimini and then went to the town of Ravenna. Although I got here quite late just in time to find a hotel to stay for the night (after a flurry of unsuccessful phone calls to local B&Bs that I got from the tourist office), I did manage to enjoy a nice view of the Piazza del Popolo in the heart of the city. Probably the most ancient monument and visited site in Ravenna is the Baptistry of Neon which I unfortunately didn’t get time to see. I did manage to meet a really cool, smart Italian person who happened to be the manager of the hotel I was staying at. His name was Davide and he had a degree in Economics, spoke 5 languages and sounded like a really smart person. Since it was too late at night to go around and do anything constructive I decided I’d get a later dinner and invited Davide along. Was really nice to get some local insight into the way of life in a small sleepy town like Ravenna. It was all the more interesting because Davide himself was quite well travelled and had recently spent many years in Nigeria, so it made for some really good conversation.

Aug 21
I take an early morning train from Ravenna back to Reggio Emilia. Lorenzo picks me up at the station and together with Nina, we drive up pas the outskirts of the city into the mountains. After an hour, we get to a tiny village called Busana. On the way we pass by a characteristic geological formation of the Apennine of Reggio - the Stone of Bismàntova in Castelnovo ne’ Monti. It is a rock of calcareous sandstone with the shape of a ship which stands out the surrounding hills. The shape of the mountain impressed Dante who named it in the Divine Comedy Purgatory. Apparently it is also considered a fairly nice place to at least contemplate committing suicide, according to Fede, Lorenzo’s elder brother. La Piera de Locanda was the name of the local agriturismo tavern that we finally arrived at, that Lorenzo proclaimed to be one the best places to eat in Reggio. True to his word, it was. The tortelli they made was all by-hand and using ingredients directly from the farms around. I remember they had tortelli with spinach, ricotta and sage; butter and squash; and finally mushrooms and ground beef. I’d be lying if I told you I hadn’t had this quality of food in a long long time. And we had multiple helpings. Secondi piatti was duck, deer meat and beef, all delicious! The owner took a special interest in us, being good friends with Lorenzo. He looked a lot like Mickey Rourke and usually just called himself Mickey. Like most Italian men, he was a born charmer and felt quite at ease posing with Nina for photos :) With our hearts and stomachs full we headed back to Reggio and met up with Filo at a really nice outdoor bar close to Piazza del Monte, the main square of the city. This was when Filo famously fell off his chair in the midst of a dinner conversation. Reggio is quite a beautiful city at night. The piazza right beside the church with the lion statues was especially pretty. This was the last night I’d see Nina before she left to DC, so we said our goodbyes and I went over to Nico’s house that night and spent the night there.

Aug 22
Sunday. I take the morning training to the Fiera in Rimini. Quite a few of my Italian friends from New York were there for the start of a week-long cultural/social/literary festival called The Meeting. Chiara who was getting married barely 10 days later, was there with Giovanni and her family. Paul, Elizabeth and Raphael were there too and I got to meet some other Bolognese people from New York, including Luca and Cecilia who were to be married later in December. Was great to catch up. At around 3 in the afternoon we got to see a rare and exciting talk featuring the President of Ireland, Mrs. Mary Mc Aleese who spoke at length about how the forces that are changing our world today are also the forces that change the human heart. Very very impressive talk from one of the longest serving heads of state of a European nation. We then saw an exhibition on a great American writer, Flannery O’Connor. Later that night, Paul, Chiara, Liz, Rapahel and I headed back to the center of Rimini, got some dinner, relaxed by the beach for a while and then headed home. I ended up getting a hotel with Paul; Chiara and Giovanni went to the campsite with Liz and Raphael.

Aug 23
I travel back to Reggio, get to meet Ale, another one of Lorenzo’s good friends. Had coffee and some pastries at two of the best spots in town. Strolled around town most of the rest of the day. Later that evening at Nico’s place I made a last-minute decision to spend a good few days in Spain and visit Mikel and Oiana. So, at the spur of the moment, I got a last minute deal on Ryan air from Bologna to Girona (a city near Barcelona) for the following afternoon for just under 90 USD. God bless Ryan Air.

Aug 24
Lorenzo drops me off at the airport in Bologna and I get onto a plane filled with young annoying Italian teenagers on holiday break shouting and laughing the entire flight. I get to Girona around 4ish and take a bus to Barcelona. I found a brochure at the airport, so made a couple of calls and got to hostel to stay at in Barcelona that night. Actually worked out quite well. Was called Equity Point and is bang in the city center and very reasonably priced at 25 euros a night. Barcelona is a very modern city and 17 years from the end of General Francisco Franco’s reign as Spanish dictator in 1975 through 1992 when the city hosted its first Olympic games, Barcelona went through a makeover like no other. As luck would have it, there was a huge football game between FC Barcelona and AC Milan the next day in Camp Nou, the local football stadium, so I managed to buy tickets for it. I walked past Plaça de Catalunya and onto one of the main streets in Barcelona, La Rambla, a 1.2 kilometer-long tree-lined pedestrian mall. I couldn’t resist getting a traditional tapas plate on a side cafe and washed it down with some fine sangria (the real deal, finally). La Rambla leads down to a beautiful waterfront called Port Vell, a great place to see the harbor at night. On my way back home I stopped by a cool lounge close to my hostel, right off of Passieg de Gracia. It was called Obama’s British Africa. Nice cocktails, really good vibe and nice live music. Would have definitely gone there more often if I was in Barcelona longer… I remember there was an African/Spanish guitarist who played some really nice tunes. Unforgettable.

Aug 25
This was my big sight-seeing day and it proved to be almost perfect. It started out with a tour around the city focusing on the works of the legendary Catalan architect, the world famous Antoni Gaudí. The streets of Barcelona are peppered every here and there with really surreal, post-modern architecture that you have to see for yourself to be enthralled. One of our first stops was a giant park just outside the city limits called Park Güell. Park Güell is a garden complex with architectural elements situated on the hill of el Carmel in the Gràcia district of Barcelona. Designed by Gaudí and built in the years 1900 to 1914, it is part of the UNESCO World Heritage Site "Works of Antoni Gaudí" and was originally part of a commercially unsuccessful housing site. Apart from the incredible layout of the gardens, Gaudi’s mosaic work on the main terrace is something so stirring when you notice that he only used scraps of metal, pottery ware and everyday items to create it. Next we stopped by one of the most iconic, unfinished works of architecture ever seen, the Sagrada Família, a massive, privately-funded Roman Catholic church that has been under construction in Barcelona since 1882 and is not expected to be complete until at least 2026. Definitely, Gaudi’s magnum opus, the project's vast scale and idiosyncratic design have made it one of Barcelona's (and Spain's) top tourist attractions for many years. In the afternoon, I went up to Montjuïc, a broad shallow hill with a relatively flat top overlooking the harbour. The eastern side of the hill is almost a sheer cliff, giving it a really commanding view over the Barcelona harbour immediately below. Another site that you cannot afford to miss in Barcelona is the Poble Espanyol, or the Spanish Village, a small Spanish village with different quarters that replicate the style of houses and architecture from different parts of Spain. Poble Espanyol was built in 1929 for the Barcleona International Exhibition and is also home to a whole host of specialist craft shops and workshops where you can see some traditionally made Spanish goods. With the sun beating down in the afternoon, I decided it was time to head back to city center en-route the beach and the Olympic village. Later that afternoon, I wandered over to the Museu Picasso, and if you’re into Picasso, this is a really good place to see some of his early works as a teenager and a young adult, before the onset of cubism. One painting from his earlier work that really stood out for me was called ‘Science and Charity’ that shows a sick girl in bed with a doctor and a nun beside her. But probably the most clever and brilliant of his works are his versions of the famous painting Las Meninas by Diego Velazquez. Between August and December 1957, Picasso painted a series of 58 interpretations of Las Meninas, and figures from it, which currently fill the Las Meninas room of the museum. Picasso did not vary the characters within the series, but largely retained the naturalness of the scene; according to the museum, his works constitute an "exhaustive study of form, rhythm, colour and movement". Later that night I went to see a great game of football at Barcelona’s Camp Nou stadium – home to the football giants FC Barcelona. They were playing AC Milan as part of a trophy called the ’Gamper’. Barca fans are crazy and it was incredible how packed the stadium was for what was for all practical purposes a friendly game. It was Ronaldinho’s comeback game for AC Milan and also what would later be Ibrahimovic’s last game in Barcelona gear. The game finished 1-1 and I decided to walk away a few minutes before the final whistle, only to find out that there actually was a penalty shoot out that Barca ended up winning. Was a real treat to see the likes of Messi, Villa, Ronaldinho, Ibrahimovic, Pirlo, Xavi and other legends all on the same pitch. Barcelona had 8 players in the Spanish national team that had just won the World Cup in South Africa, so a lot of faces looked rather familiar.. Later that night, I took a walk around the harbour, got some nice seafood tapas and sangria (yes, I forgot to mention that I had sangria with almost every meal while I was there) and called it a night. Of course, since I was staying at a youth hostel in a 12-person dorm, no one was home at 1 am, but the room came alive at 5 in the morning when all the young kids got back after a usual Wed night out. Jeez you know you’re getting old when 1 am is no longer considered ‘early’.

Aug 26
I wake up early enough to find a train that will take me to Girona, a small but beautiful town an hour north of Barcelona. Mikel and Oiana, two really cool friends of mine who I’d met in Cape Town were staying there for a couple of days with Oiana’s sister and her husband who’d just signed a soccer contract with the Girona team. After a brief stopover at Oiana’s sister’s place, the three of us walked up the old part of town. Girona has all the charm of a large city but without the crowds; a very ‘human-sized’ city that will leave you walking around awestruck: its streets, festivals, cultural activities, historic monuments and more. After a quick traditional Catalan lunch, we got ready to drive roughly 7 hours to San Sebastián (or Donostia, its Basque name), one of the most beautiful cities of the Basque country. We passed through Toulouse in France on our way and got to San Sebastian around 9pm, just in time to meet Oiana’s mother who lives in a stunning bungalow perched up on a hill overlooking the beach. The views were gorgeous. We had dinner outside by the patio and I can even now remember how incredible the food, views and company were. I remember feeling particularly honored to be part of it! As always, it is a crime to go to bed before midnight in Spain, so at around 1 am, Oiana and I met up with Mikel and some of his close friends from school at a local music joint whose name I cannot remember. Mikel, if you ever read this tell me what it was called! Kind of an alternative, anarchist-type place. Ended up picking up the guitar there and doing a good 5-6 songs that night along with a couple of German girls who were quite good at belting out a tune or two I must say. At around 4am or so I was back at the bungalow.

Aug 27
After sleeping in a bit, I headed to La Concha, the main beach in San Sebastian. Mikel met me there around 11ish. We headed out for a 1km or so swim in the sea over to an island called Santa Klarako Uhartea, or Santa Clara Island, a beautiful green island near the mouth of the Concha Bay. Definitely, one of the most fun, adventurous things to do – swimming in the sea is quite a tough ask but it’s a ton of fun. And the fact that it’s only a kilometer away makes it quite doable if you’re a reasonably good swimmer. The island has a small beach at low-tide (no beach at high tide) complete with lifeguard, showers and a bar. Oiana took the ferry there and the three of us spent a nice relaxed afternoon on the beach. Later in the afternoon we went for a stroll around town and some of Mikel’s friends joined us. One of the attractions of visiting Donostia is its gastronomy. The Basque Country has a well-deserved reputation for fine wining and dining. In gastronomic terms, Donostia takes the biscuit: the best restaurants in the country can be found here. From the most expensive and luxurious type of restaurant, characterised by modern Basque cuisine (Arzak, Akelarre and Zuberoa), to pintxo bars (pintxos are appetisers accompanying a drink), and finally sandwich bars like La Cepa and Narrika, they all pay careful attention to quality and presentation. Wine is the most popular drink in the Basque Country. Most wine comes from the Rioja Alavesa and Navarra regions. Recommended are the reds of the Rioja region and the rosés of Navarra. As far as more indigenous drinks go, you have to try cider, and the txakoli from Getaria. This is made from local white grapes, and is slightly carbonated. The flavour is a cross between white wine and champagne. You tend to drink txakolí more in summer, accompanied by fish and seafood dishes. One of the preferred activities of Donostiarras (citizens of Donostia) is txikiteo, where groups of friends meet after work and go from bar to bar drinking small amounts of wine or other drinks. You drink your wine (or a zurito, which is a tiny glass of beer) and move on to the next place; in this way, you cover a lot of bars in a short time. Pub crawling in the Spanish context is a unique kind of activity. The aim is not to get drunk, but to socialise. The tradition is enhanced by sampling pintxos with your drink, which, although a little more expensive, makes it more enjoyable. A delicious accompaniment to a longer session of txikiteo are the local filled rolls. Although you can go pub crawling in any area of the city, the best place is the Old Quarter. We headed to Mikel’s old flat later that night to get a nice home-cooked dinner. After a stop at a local bar for a drink we then went over to Museo del Whiski, one of the top whisky/piano bars in the world. There were 6 of us, and if I remember their names right, they were Mikel, Sandra, Imanol, Maite, and of course Mikel and Oiana. As luck would have it I ended up doing a rendition of a couple of Beatles tunes, ‘Imagine’ and ‘Yesterday’ and the older 40s-50s crowd seemed to quite like it. Not too bad to have performed live two nights in a row while you’re traveling huh :)

Aug 28
Today was a really fun day. Oiana had to head over to Pamplona to help out at a wedding, so Mikel and I met up with the rest of the crew and took a train out to a quaint little town called Orio to watch the Kontxako Bandera, one of the oldest and most famous estropada races along the Bay of Biscay, held annually in the Kontxa, the main bay of San Sebastián. It takes place on the first two weekends in September and regularly draws crowds of more than 100,000 people and around 20 rowing teams. It was first held in 1879 and has been held most years since with the main exception of the war years. Nursing an acute hangover, we wolfed down some local grilled fish and olives (yum!) and went for a walk around the streets of this little rural town before meeting up with one of Mikel’s friends who lived close by. Manu is a local footballer who used to play for Real Sociedad, one of the better teams in the Spanish League. His girlfriend got us a special entry into one of the local cooperative food societies - a very interesting concept in the Basque country that I kind of like. Around late afternoon, we walked up the road to the seashore and climbed up the hill to get a good birds-eye view of the rowing teams battling it out at sea. Was definitely something I’d never seen before and was quite a spectacle. The txakoli continued to flow copiously throughout. And of course, I forgot to mention – there is a special art of serving txakoli that involves holding the cup around the level of your hips and the bottle around shoulder height and delicately pouring it in with the aim of getting as much oxygen into the wine during the pouring process. Quite sophisticated, but I loved it. Orio didn’t end up winning the race but it was a fabulous day out. What a refreshing change to be amongst locals in a traditional Basque town setting enjoying indigenous festivities and cuisine... aah. Longing for a dip in the water, I rather nonchalantly (and on sudden impulse, as always :) jumped into the river that cut through the town. With Mikel egging me on with his cheering and a rather generous pair of hands behind my camera lens, the effort proved to be more than just a fun experience. Later that night after we got home, dried ourselves and had a quick meal, Mikel, Manu and I set out for Vitoria-Gasteiz, Mikel’s home town and the capital of the Basque region. I reckon we got to his home around 11pm or so. Mikel’s mom and her friend were around, and after a few pleasantries were exchanged, we headed out to discover the nightlife in this small, yet bustling town. I remember the streets being quite noisy and busy for a weekday night in August, but I guess that’s Basque culture :) We went to small lounge that played some heavy metal and hard rock that I wasn’t particularly fond of, but it was nice to meet Mikel’s friends from school. Definitely crazier and younger than his friends from San Sebastian, but fun nevertheless. By around 1 am, I’d had enough of being out and promptly headed home to blissfully melt under the covers.

Aug 29
Mikel had a surprise for me today. We went to the tourist office late in the morning and rented bikes to drive around the entire city! Was heaps of fun. Vitoria, being the heart of the Basque empire is steeped in tradition. Riding through the carefully constructed bike paths that swiveled all through the old buildings, parks and museums, I couldn’t help but realize how green this city is. Only later did I find out that Vitoria was awarded the honor of being one of the greenest cities in Spain not too long ago. We ended up riding for almost 2 hours, doing a loop around the city circumference and later going out to a huge reservoir just outside the city limits. We stopped by the middle of town to get a few pintxos and some coffee, and later went over to meet Mikel’s dad. Quite a jolly old chap I daresay he was. We met at a quiet corner side café and sipped some lovely cidra in the afternoon until it was time for us to meet Mikel’s mom and her friend at their local food cooperative. I really find the idea of a food cooperative quite intriguing but fascinating nonetheless. It’s almost like being part of an exclusive dining club in a certain sense. What it really does give you though is the space and facility to use a huge kitchen and a huge ration of food, condiments, sauces, drinks, etc. as long as you log all what you use in the members log book. Maybe I should start that concept in South Africa. Or wherever I end up living next. Who knows. Anyways, Oiana and one of Mikel’s uncles later joined us for lunch that lasted well over three hours. Was a very engaging conversation from whatever I can remember of it. Mikel, Oiana and I then headed over to the town center for a walk around. We walked past a big sculpture that literally looked like a woman’s vagina. The locals even refer to it as that. Funny. We met Oiana and Mikel’s friend Ana and her boyfriend later that evening and the 4 of us went for a stroll around the town. I remember how incredibly beautiful the town looked from atop the cathedral by the town center right around sunset. We had a few drinks and just before heading home I took Mikel and Oiana out one last time to dinner. Tomorrow I’d be heading out by myself for 4 days through the northern coast of Spain and decided it was probably a wise decision to be in bed early.

Aug 30
I woke up real early around a half past five or so. Armed with a map and a rather heavy backpack I set out to get to the bus station just in time to get the 7 am bus to Bilbao. I have no idea how, but I somehow managed to get there just in time as the bus was about to leave. An hour or so later I had gotten to Bilbao. I spent a good couple of hours walking around town and trying to hone in on a rental car that I could use for the next 4 days around Spain. After a bit of scouting around, I managed to find one (AVIS) at a decent enough price with an English speaking GPS. I went for a quick stroll around the gardens near the outskirts of the city and soon after headed towards the Guggenheim. One of the most amazing things about the location of Frank Gehry’s masterpiece is how ideally positioned it is with respect to the city and its periphery. I was at one moment casually walking through the side streets of Bilbao and in another moment all of a sudden this stunning gigantic titanium edifice emerges out of the ends of the houses along the street. It was almost as if the city of Bilbao and the Guggenheim were somehow intertwined with each other in a passionate embrace with the river on the far side looking on suspiciously.. The museum itself was quite an incredible sight. Apart from getting to really understand how Gehry designed and built this wonderful work of modern architecture, I was fortunate enough to be there to see an exhibition by the legendary British-Indian sculptor Anish Kapoor. Just before 1:30pm, I managed to pick up my car after scrambling around to get directions back from the museum. Of course, I had to hurry because EVERYTHING in Spain shuts down between 1:30pm and 4pm so if you need to get something done before the afternoon siesta sets in, you’d better get on it. I still hadn’t a clue what my itinerary was going to look like :) but I’ve come to realize that one of the simple joys of traveling and going on an adventure by yourself is that you don’t really have to plan everything out, and when the only person to satisfy is yours truly, things can get a lot easier (and simpler!). So in a flash, I decided I was going to drive right through north-central Spain, past Zaragoza, Leon, over the Portuguese border and into the city of Porto. It ended up being almost 7-8 hours of a drive, but I did quite enjoy it. Cutting through the heart of northern Spain, most of the landscape was an interspersion of hills, farmlands and the odd industrial town in between. Plus, to my pleasant amusement, I did find a really nice retro music station on the radio with an old Spanish RJ playing some lovely R&B, folk and country tunes, albeit spoken with a thick, heavy Spanish accent almost reminiscent of a grand colonial leader marshalling his horsemen to a battlefront. I got into Porto around 10ish, found a safe place to park my car for the night and checked in to my pension lodge. For around 25 euros a night, I couldn’t complain when I got to be right in the center of town. Just before midnight, I stepped out to the waterfront a few blocks down the road and was amazed to see how busy and bustling the place was. Hordes and hordes of 20 and 30 somethings had made their way down and had packed the many watering holes and cafes by the riverside. It really was quite a splendid sight. Porto at night is quite a beautiful town and the magnificent bridge linking Porto with Gaia is quite the view at night. I had a bit of a late night snack at one of the cafes and settled into a nice 20-year old glass of port wine that hit the spot just right. It’s not too often that you get to drink a glass of port wine in the city it originates :) Although, to be perfectly fair, I did discover later that port wine is actually grown and harvested a bit further inland and gets sent to Porto by boats along the river. But nevertheless, a little pleasure to savor :)

Aug 31
With an early start, I spent the morning and part of the early afternoon discovering the city. And what better way to do it than to get on the ubiquitous Red City Sightseeing bus that you see in major urban centers the world over :) Porto is quite an interesting city with a rich cultural and architectural heritage. Was hard to keep track of the numerous cathedrals, gardens, town hall buildings and monuments we passed by as we did the tour. The beach is quite nice too and makes for quite a picturesque setting. By early afternoon, I was on my way out of the city. With a fluid itinerary in mind, I headed northward towards Galicia, the north-western most province in Spain. I had heard about the port town of Vigo so decided to drive to it. I ended up, however, getting lost multiple times while in the city center. It turned out later on that my GPS had the wrong map of the city (since the harborside had just been renovated) so in a bout of frustration, decided it wasn’t in my book of fate to be in Vigo too long, so before I knew it, I was back on the highway, this time heading toward the jewel in Galicia’s crown, Santiago de Compostela. Santiago de Compostella is the capital of the autonomous community of Galicia. The city's Cathedral is the destination today, as it has been throughout history, of the important 9th century medieval pilgrimage route, the Way of St. James (Camino de Santiago). In 1985 the city's Old Town was designated a UNESCO World Heritage Site. The cathedral borders the main plaza of the old and well-preserved city. Legend has it that the remains of the apostle James were brought to Galicia in the early 9th century on a boat made of stone, and were later discovered at Santiago de Compostela. The cathedral was built in his honour on the spot where his remains were said to have been found. I spent nearly 4 hours in Santiago and was quite impressed with what I saw. The walkways and old parts of town in itself were quite a treat to see apart from of course the huge Cathedral of St. James at the very end. Later that evening, I drove to La Coruna where I was to sleep for the night. A bit of drama ensued with me barely managing to pull on with a dwindling tank of fuel, but in the end I reached La Coruna without any feathers ruffled. I remember asking for directions to my hotel late at night after I’d gotten in to town and having spoken with a random person on the street for nearly ten minutes non-stop about the latest developments in Italian and Spanish soccer. My ‘piu-meno’ knowledge of Italian definitely stood me in good stead during my travels through Spain :)

Sep 1
In the morning I managed to find an internet point in the hotel and found a place to stay at for that night in Asturias, a beautiful province just east of Galicia. One of the things I did learn during this trip is that when you travel alone, the most important thing on a daily basis is to know where you’ll be sleeping for the night. If you can figure this out by noon everyday it makes your journey so much more relaxed and comfortable. The road from La Coruna through Asturias is breathtaking. You literally drive along the ocean passing through little coastal towns and fishing villages. My first stop was a town called Ribadeo. Bathed by the waters of the Cantabrian Sea to the north, and by the Ribadeo tidal estuary to the east, the town of Ribadeo lies in the far north-east of Galicia in the province of Lugo. Although Ribadeo’s greatest tourist attraction is unquestionably its beaches, the marina, the fishing village of Rinlo and the lighthouse on Pancha Island are quite incredible to visit. I parked my car just before the lighthouse and walked down a path, getting a rare glimpse of the majesty of the Spanish northern coast and the Bay of Biscay (Mar Cantabrico). I had a nice traditional seafood paella for lunch at one of the streetside restaurants and then drove to the beautiful mountain village of Faedo, nestled in the hills inland. My home for the night was a beautiful casa rural (Spanish for Bed’n’Breakfast) called La Casona de Faedo, Cudillero, a spectacular natural paradise within the stunning backdrop of the hills of Asturias. I can honestly say that I’ve never stayed at a better bed’n’breakfast lodge in my 29 years of work, life and travels. The owner, Santiago, a 27 year old former corporate communications person, had now moved back home from Madrid and settled in to this lovely home. It was an absolute delight to be there and I at once felt like this was the kind of home I’d love to settle into some day in the future. With a grand backyard, complete with a garden, hammock, outdoor patio overlooking the farms and hills, I felt at complete peace. By far, it was one of the best things to have happened on my entire trip through Europe. Later that night I took Santiago and his little sister out to Cudillero, a fishing village (and the nearest town) about 8 km from Faedo. We walked up the spiral row of houses past the beautiful harbor and were rewarded with some truly exquisite views from the top. It was one of those times when you just want to retire and lay all your burdens down. Ha! We had a nice simple dinner and headed home.

Sep 2
The next morning, I woke up and after a quick breakfast, Santiago was kind enough to take me on a walk through the woods right by the house. We passed by an old defunct water mill on our way to a pristine waterfall hidden deep inside the trail we took. Little pleasures that people often take for granted. Late morning, the three of us drove into a remote part around the hills of San Juan Pinera, one of the nine parishes in Cudillero. Santiago took me to a tiny chapel called Ermita de Santa Ana de Montarés Asturias tucked way up in the hills. I don’t think you can see a better view of the Asturian coastline than from here. And what a wonderful, hidden treasure! After going through yet another endless set of photos, it was finally time to say goodbye to Santiago and his sister. They really were such wonderful hosts and had made my last couple of days there all the more special. Around early afternoon I found myself in yet another lovely beach town called Llanes. LLanes is located on a narrow swathe of land beneath the Picos de Europa and the Mar Cantabrico (Bay of Biscay). The town is small and very distinctive with an old quarter and a tourist office inside its oldest building, a tower from the thirteenth century. Although small, Llanes, which is almost suspended above the ocean, is a must for beach goers with dozens of small beaches hiding around every corner. Llanes is reputed to have some of the best beaches in Asturias. After a nice midday dip in the sea I was ready to head to the hills. About an hour and a half south-east of Llanes is a remarkable town called Potes. Nestled in the hills right before Picos de Europa, the drive from Oviedo to Potes is quite stunning as you criss-cross through the mountains, doing hairpin curves along beautiful gushing streams of water and treelines in the mountains. Potes is the starting point for numerous hikes and climbs in the Picos de Europa. The end of the road takes you to a place called Fuente De where a cable car takes you all the way to the top of the mountain ranges. Needless to say, the views are quite out of this world. As the sun set along the hills and sleepy towns of Cantabria, I gradually made myself home to a town called Pendueles where I was staying at another casa rural. After checking myself in late at night, I wandered off to the nearest open café, had a quiet meal and got ready to leave the next morning to Santander to catch my early morning flight to Pisa.

Sep 3
Having returned the car at the Santander airport, I got on the flight and a couple of hours later I was at the Pisa airport. What should have been at most a 4 hour ride to Reggio Emilia eventually turned into a horrific 10-hour ordeal, with me having gotten onto the wrong trains twice and landing up having to wait for hours just to get back into the right schedules. Weary eyed and annoyed at myself, I finally got into the main square in Reggio where Lorenzo and his friends were drinking like fishes at one of their favorite bars in town, a Mexican joint tucked away in some non-descript side street. There happened to be a crazy house party up in the hills that night, so Ale, Lorenzo and I went there. Was an amazing setting, really cool and beautiful people all around. I remember meeting some really interesting women that worked in the non-profit sector that had traveled abroad quite extensively. Was unfortunately way too tired to make much of an effort to socialize. Another time, maybe. At around 2 in the morning we were back at Nico’s home.

Sep 4
I took the train out to Milan, got there late afternoon and head straight to a hair salon where Chiara was getting her hair done on the eve of her wedding. Was great to see her again after such a long time. We got to her place just in time for dinner with her parents who are super warm and friendly. The fact that they spoke barely a word of English was an ideal setting for me to improve my Italian. Elizabeth joined us later in the evening and together the three of us (the former members of Sgt Peppers Lonely Hearts Club) had a fun time catching up and reminiscing the fun times we’d had in New York.

Sep 5
Chiara and Giovanni’s wedding day. After a frantic rush with all of us getting ready, we left to the church up in the hills near Piacenza. Giovanni’s sister has a beautiful summer house a few kms from the church, so we spent some time getting ready and then headed over for Mass. The ceremony was wonderful. It was a delight to see Chiara and Giovanni so happy together after all the ups and downs of being together and apart while she was working in New York. The luncheon was at an agri-turismo center that had some amazing views of the hills and surroundings. Chiara had very cleverly seated everyone at different tables giving them names of popular neighborhoods in New York :) The post-lunch reception at Giovanni’s sister’s place was fantastic. Giovanni’s close friends in his band belted out some amazing tunes late into the night that really got the crowd going. All in all, it was a great day for the couple and for all of us gathered to join them in their celebration. We left around 11pm or so. Liz and I stayed overnight at Chiara and Giovanni’s new place in Milan. Liz had a 4 am bus to catch to Bergamo, so I gave her company and ended up having to spend 2 long and tiring hours in Milano Centrale doing absolutely nothing. Trust me it can be quite a depressing place. At 6 am the Metro opened up and I caught a train to Chiara’s parents place, packed my stuff and headed to Milan. I met Mario, Frank and Stefano at ALTIS and had a good conversation with them about the prospect of me working with them in Africa next year for a socio-venture capital fund. Got done just in time to head to Malpensa where I met Lorenzo and we were on our way back to Cape Town!

Finding Meaning in Our Work

Dear Readers,

There is no denying the fact that ever since the current global economic and financial crisis began in the Fall of 2007 and whose end no one can unequivocally predict, most of us have spent at least some time reflecting and pondering on how this catastrophe has affected our personal lives and the decisions and adjustments we have had to make on a day-to-day basis. Truth be told, depending on our social standing, line of work, geographic location and other extenuating circumstances pertinent to us, the degree and scale of this self-introspection and re-adjustment could span an entire gamut of possible measures and resolutions.

Throughout the course of the last year, listening to testimonies and witnesses of people at various community events, talks and forums, I could not help but realize how important it was for people to fully understand the meaning of their work, what ultimate purpose it served, and how it could bring them closer in correspondence with their heart. Perhaps the relative calm and stability of our economy over the last 2-3 decades and the absence of any material shocks to the checks and balances in our daily lives had lured us into a false sense of security and made us refrain from asking ourselves these deep, piercing questions.

In my case, I found myself in the midst of this crisis back in September 2008 as an investment banker at Lehman Brothers right when it filed for bankruptcy. I had been working with Lehman since early 2005 after having finished my Masters degree at Stanford. Times were good. Capitalism and the fruits of creativity, enterprise and ambition had fuelled in young people like me a desire to build, expand and ultimately protect our intellectual and economic capital. In the summer of 2005 I was at a bar in New York with a dear friend having a round of drinks. Most of my close friends and family know that deep down inside I don’t have the heart and soul of a typical Wall Street banker and that I would probably find my true calling in life as an educator, working at a non-profit organization or a career in socio-economic development. Right before entering university I had even briefly considered joining the Peace Corps. So that evening as I sat across from my friend at the bar dressed in a crisp white buttoned down shirt, black slacks, cufflinks and a loosened tie, I wasn’t quite expecting him to ask me why I, of all the people he knew, was so excited to be starting a career as an investment banker on Wall Street. To be honest, I didn’t have a candid and frank answer, so I ended up quoting Nietzsche, saying, “Did you ever say yes to a pleasure? Then you also said yes to all pain. All things are linked, entwined, in love with one another. What does not kill me makes me stronger.”

I guess I never did realize over the course of the four years that followed that evening, why I was really doing what I was doing. I had never stopped to ask myself – ‘What is my one, true passion? What is the ultimate thing that I’m going to do with my life? What is the ultimate mark that I’m going to make? Was I being driven by an illusion of success and reward, or was I truly passionate about my work and found fulfillment in it? A Silicon Valley entrepreneur once said that ‘Passion and drive are not the same at all. Passion pulls you toward something you cannot resist. Drive pushes you toward something you feel compelled or obligated to do. If you know nothing about yourself, you can’t tell the difference. Once you gain a modicum of self-knowledge, you can express your passion.’

In my desire to ‘do more’ with my life and in my struggle to find meaning in my work, I spent a good amount of my spare time volunteering with community organizations like New York Cares, mentoring high school kids, helping children and senior citizens with computer and language skills, etc. In all this, I’d looked at my work as a separate world, desensitizing myself from the value it created for me and for people around me. To an extent, I viewed my work as an issue I had to deal with, a bone I had to wrestle with. In the summer of 2008, I had reached my wits end and having been just promoted at work, took a month off to go to Ghana as part of an international volunteer organization to teach English, Math and Art to elementary school children at an orphanage in a remote village. It was the most humbling, eye-opening experience of my entire life and it made me seriously meditate on what it means for us to be truly happy. The simplicity, joy and innocence in the lives of the families and children I lived with touched me so strongly it made me feel so humbled and naked in front of my own reality. What is beauty? How is it possible for us to live freely, love and feel truly loved in spite of our nothingness? Our lives are way too short for us to constantly worry and complain about all the little things that seem trivial compared to the many real problems and hardships that the majority of our world has to deal with everyday.

Getting back to New York in the Fall of 2008 was hard, not just from a mental re-balancing and cultural perspective, but also given how quickly and dramatically the dominoes had toppled in the world’s financial markets. Lehman’s bankruptcy was only the tip of the iceberg, a harbinger of further economic and financial distress to come. It was easy for me to demonize my work, blame myself for not listening to my true inner self, my gut and my passion four years earlier. There is no better sanity check than reality. But even then, the status quo and the forces of inertia make us cling on to what we possess and what we have control over.

Even today, I still question the true meaning of my work and its purpose in my life. I see my bosses who have worked in this business year after year, often spending long hours toiling away to bring in additional revenue. Many of them hardly get to spend quality time with their families and end up being on conference calls during the weekend, traveling in and out of major international cities getting business done, and all-in-all, just do not have time to stop working. After all, what is life if full of care, if we have not the time to stand and stare? (Henry Davies). I remember once sitting in my manager’s office on a Monday morning and he casually asked me how my weekend was. I told him I’d volunteered at a homeless shelter and met a lot of really interesting people whose life experiences had taught me so much about how we cannot take life’s gifts and blessings for granted. His reaction was one of discomfort and unease, and not knowing how to talk about it, quickly switched the conversation to work-related matters.

I find it so hard to have a real conversation with anyone at work about something human, something that affects our personal lives, our relationships, our fears, concerns, troubles and joys. It’s almost as if being free and giving of oneself makes you more vulnerable to being judged and possibly being hurt. What a lot of us contend with (often subconsciously) is the fact that in the humdrum and business of our lives at work, it is somehow okay to put up walls around us, barricade ourselves from reality and be comfortable in our own facade that society tacitly approves of. While this may seem to be all the more reason for me to lay down my arms and unburden myself of the pressures of being someone I really am not, I do realize that it is possible to find meaning in little things if I want to. Meaning doesn’t exist only if you are able to understand it and explain it. Atoms and molecules still existed with reason and meaning before we were able to quantify and eventually qualify their existence and meaning. Every person and every thing is meaningful and meaningless in equal measure according to ones perspective. It’s how you love them despite your state of awareness that matters and brings some sort of ‘meaning’ to your existence.

Most of all, I take comfort in knowing that our least action when done for the common good of society is precious. Never must we let it enter our minds that we cannot be good or useful in the station of life we are placed in. On the contrary, that is the very place that has been appointed for us, and a performance of the duties of it would ensure our happiness. We can help others more by the peace and tranquility of our hearts than by any eagerness or care we can bestow on them.

The Sun Also Rises

Wednesday, July 30. It's been a rainy afternoon. 2 days from now I'll be on a plane across the Atlantic heading into the concrete jungle that the city of New York is. I daresay even the thought of it seems quite disconcerting indeed. Since I last updated my blog a week or so ago, I.... for the first time ever witnessed a live birth in the labor ward of a local hospital, danced in the rain along with fellow travelers to distinct African beats on the sidewalks of Accra, spent a night on a Rastafarian beach listening to live reggae, climbed up the tallest mountain in West Africa, played and fed bananas to monkeys in the rainforest, played 3 straight nights of poker, taught English, Math, Hop-Skotch and Jack & Jill to 2-4 yr olds, went for a morning run and almost reached the border of neighbouring Togo, and yes I think I did manage to read a few more pages of A Farewell To Arms :)

Things have been great thus far and everyday is just such a wonderful experience in itself.. I seriously do not know how to describe it in words - the lifestyle, people and atmosphere are just so soothing and comforting. Watching a live birth at the local district hospital has to rank as one of the most amazing things I've ever seen in my life. It was just precious. A moment in time. Men - you will never be able to appreciate the sheer pain and intensity that a woman goes through during childbirth until you actually see one. It truly is a humbling experience.

Yesterday, a few of us hiked up to the top of Mt. Afadjato which is the highest point in Ghana. The views were gorgeous. Tomorrow we are planning on exploring some caves and hope to do some rock climbing there. Tonight I'm planning on going to a shop where they teach you how to make drums, how to play them and then maybe I'll be able to bring a small one back to New York. Most of us have really fallen in love with this place and don't want to leave. I can't believe my stay has almost come to an end.

My time at the orphanage this past 2 1/2 weeks has been wonderful. I feel like I've really begun to understand, appreciate and love the kids and it is so sad that I'll be leaving them so soon. I've learnt a lot though after my first few days here. Initially I was trying too hard to make sure that every child was learning the alphabet, math, etc. without stopping to get to know them, play with them and build a relationship with them. I gradually started to explain the story behind various nursery rhymes through pictures, drawing on the board, getting them to role-play, etc. and they love it! I feel like the repeated memorization patterns they have will slowly make way into concept-based learning.. On Monday I taught them different verbs like run, jump, play, fight, dance, etc. and had them act out various actions along with me and do drawings on the board. It was so much fun! Today being my penultimate day at Christ Orphanage, I took my guitar along and the kids were incredibly excited.. I taught them about what music means and how singing is complemented by musical instruments. They were so excited when I let them sit on my lap and strum the guitar while I held the chords :)) And then to mix things up I taught them how to play hop-skotch using chalk markings on the floor. All in all, it's been absolutely outstanding. It's going to be a very sad day tomorrow when I leave. Maybe a tear or two. I think I'm going to get them some candy.

I hope you are all enjoying the summer (or winter, if you're down south!)

Take care,

-Ronnie

Eat, Pray, Love

On The Road. I think Jack Kerouac would be proud of me if he were alive today. Or may be not. I'm not really a free-spirited wanderlust moving in a vacuum while the ivy grows over the door, am I? :) But this past weekend, lying in a hammock at 6:30 in the morning reading Hemingway's 'A Farewell To Arms' while the waves from the warm waters of the Atlantic came crashing down on the rocks a couple hundred feet away from me, I sure did feel like one :)

Cape Coast is a pristine, palm-draped rustic beach town just a hundred miles west of Accra where the young go to have a fun time and the elder folks go looking for a little peace and quiet time to unwind. We were 11 people ranging in ages from 18 to 40 and stayed in small palm shacks literally 200 feet from the water!

The little town of Elmina is a few miles away, home to the famous St. George Castle, a 300 year old slave castle, one of the biggest in West Africa. The Portuguese, Dutch and finally the English ruled over much of the Gold Coast from within the castle, using it as dungeons for thousands of slaves from West Africa as part of the gold/ivory for arms trade. Unspeakable atrocities and tortures that strike at the very core of human existence were carried out during the centuries of imperialist dominance here, things that have often caused the locals here (oblivious of the true history of this place) to be moved to tears upon seeing the gruesome remnants of a past that we can only hope will never ever be repeated again in the world we all live and co-exist in.

Elmina being a fishing town had hundreds of canoes and fishing boats docked at the harbor when we passed by that afternoon. Never one to miss out on an adventure, I quickly hovered over to one of the local fishermen and suggested he take a few of us out to sea for a little trip. Imagine a bunch of foreigners on a tiny boat floating around on a Sunday afternoon while Ghanaian fathers and mothers watched us from aside the crowded fishmarkets scattered along the coastline :) I doubt we'd had too many predecessors!

I've realized one thing though about volunteering in developing countries. If you really look at where a lot of the prominent NGOs set up their bases, you will find that most of them are pretty far away from major cities or tourist-infested towns. I initially didn't think much about this fact but after my sojourn through Accra and Cape Coast I realized that local people who often live in poor to lower-middle class environments can tend to unfairly look at foreigners in a very pre-set, typecast kind of way - we have more money than they do and that we are indifferent to their troubles and hardships. In towns further away from commercial centers or tourist hubs (like Hohoe where Cross-Cultural Solutions is based), the locals are often quite simple and open minded when it comes to understanding cultures different from their own and look at volunteers as people who genuinely care about helping communities empower themsleves.

Saturday night all over the world is party night, so we didn't want to break any rules :) We went out to a nice place for dinner right by the ocean. The seafood was amazing. Checked out a local nightclub right after. Sunday morning came around and we drove up to the Kakuma rainforest close by. There is a canopy high up above on the trees that stretches for about a few hundred feet. It was a surreal experience walking up so high on wooden planks suspended from ebony trees and looking down on the entire forest!! Acrophobiacs, beware! I doubt if there are too many places in the world where you can experience something like this. I think Costa Rica may be one of them.

I am back in Hohoe now and was at the orphanage this morning. I am slowly getting a better hang of how to interact and teach my little kids :) Since they're so young (2-4 yrs) I've been doing mostly nursery rhymes but trying to explain the concept and story behind it using pictures and actions instead of plain memorization, so I think things are getting better and the teachers here are appreciative of my work. You tend to get quite attached to some of the kids here and I know it will be hard to suddenly leave them behind 2 weeks from now :( I wish I could upload a few pictures but the computers here are quite antiquated, so I'll post them when I'm back in New York.

I will write another blog sometime this week talking specifically about my experiences at the orphanage and about my friends who've volunteered at hospitals and AIDS awareness programs, so if anyone of you is considering volunteering abroad, you'll get a better perspective.

Hang in there eveyone. Our lives are too short to constantly worry and complain about so many little things that seem trivial compared to the many real problems and hardships that the majority of our world has to deal with everyday.

Let's all try to be happy with who we are and what we have.

Eat, pray, love.

Fondly,

Ronnie

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Ghana Unplugged

Internet access here is slow and quite sporadic and I get to check it once every 2-3 days so I'll keep these short.

Ok so I got here the morning of the 12th. Met a bunch of fellow volunteers on the flight and at the airport at Accra. We drove down in 2 vans to a town called Hohoe (pronounced Hoe-hway) about 4 hrs north-east of the capital. People here drive like crazy and there aren't too many road rules! (but I'm used to it from how it is in India so not a big problem for me :) We're staying at Cross-Cultural Solutions' Home base (kinda like a dorm for volunteers) where they have bunk beds, toilets and a common dining room. Cool. The food here mostly revolves around starch. Cassava, yam, potatoes, rice. So I'd advise all Atkins diet lovers to skip Ghana during an African visit ;) They do have nice spices though so the food isn't all that bland. Of course, I haven't ventures out to try the street kebabs and grilled corn yet but I likely will after the first few days here! The landscape around here is pretty hot and arid although Hohoe being closer to the hills and Lake Volta gets a nice cool breeze in the evening which is refreshing.

A word on the volunteers - they're a fabulous bunch! A lot of them are kids who are still in college and are here on summer break but have a great interest in either the education or medical field. There are a few elementary and middle school teachers, a pharmacist from Australia, a couple of doctors-to-be from Canada and a group from UC San Diego. All in all, very interesting, intelligent, passionate and fun ppl. Even though it's been just 3 days since I got here I think a few of them will be friends way beyond this trip.

Went to Mass on Sunday morning. Quite an experience. Went from 9 a.m. to 11:30. Almost 3 times as long as regular Catholic Masses. Fun nevertheless. Lots of people all decked up in extremely colorful clothes. Loud singing, drumming and dancing (seriously). The women (esp the elderly) habe this habit of waving white handkerchiefs in the air whenever the priest made a joke during his hour-long sermon in Ewe (the local dialect). For the offertory procession, in addition to gifts of bread and some fruit there was a girl eho presented the priest with a live chicken! Unbelievable. Was a great experience though. I think I was the only non-Ghanaian there :)

Most of the evenings we spend around the house chatting, reading, playing board games, etc. We played soccer with the local kids, awesome fun. We met up with a group of young children whop taught us drumming and local dances. I think I may have picked up a few moves :) The local market is amazing with all its varieties of food and colorful dresses. Some of the kids kept hugging me and it was a joy carrying them around! The kids here always have a smile on their face and are amazingly happy and contented despite their extremely poor condition. It just goes to show how simple yet strong the human spirit can be. I have been very touched by what I've seen so far.

Today was my first day at the orphanage. 110 kids. 3 teachers and 4 of us volunteers. Pretty hard work. This is definitely going to be a challenge but I' m all up for it. I will write a lot more about my time at the orphanage and the learning experiences from there over the next few days.

The eve of my trip to Ghana!

Hey everyone,

So I'm kinda new to this whole concept of blogging. You can call me old-fashioned, retro or just plain lazy :) I'm the kinda person who would just rather pen down a few notes on a jotting pad or a journal when I'm on the road or visiting places.

But this time around, I'm gonna be away for 3 weeks volunteering at an orphanage in a village called Hoehoe, about 4 hrs north of Accra, the capital of Ghana. I'm doing this on behalf of a non-profit organization called Cross-Cultural Solutions (http://www.crossculturalsolutions.org/)

Needless to say, I'm very excited and a bit nervous at the same time. A few friends of mine suggested that I write a blog about my experiences while I'm there, and so I decided I would! I'm not sure how regular or irregular my access to the internet will be, but I'll try and post something once every 4-5 days.. Please do feel free to add your own posts, comments or anything you like!

Well, I'm gonna go and start packing now. Insect repellant, raincoats, malaria pills, childrens' story books, flash cards, a frisbee.. gosh when did I last pack all these into a suitcase? :))

-Ronnie