About a year ago I realized that I regretted having titled
my blog – modern nomad in the USA. I
expected to be travelling across the US for some time, trying to figure out the
vast wastelands of the inner US. But I
got stuck in this place called Fuckville, North Carolina, primarily for a piece
of paper that apparently takes three years or so to get. My nomadic days ended abruptly, but my desire
to travel never dissipated. I couldn’t afford to go travel, and my damn
conscious prevented me from enjoying the glorious life of a Trustafarian. So I waited for the opportunity to manifest
itself. I guess this summer my patience
was rewarded by the Trustafarian Gods, and I found a way to free ride all the
way to China.
The truth is that I’ve never been to Asia before, but
somehow I ended up leading a four week trip to China with 10 young men and
women. For the first time in my life tomorrow I will cross the Pacific and go
explore not only a new country or continent, but also a new culture, and most
interestingly, a new perspective.
For so many years I’ve seen my friends and my brothers’
return from Asia (although it was mostly India and Southeast Asia) with a sense
of awe. I’ve always explained that as
“you find what you’re looking for”, and it made so much sense to me. But now as I stand on the doorstep of my own
experience into the unknown, I find myself preparing for this trip not by
trying to understand what I will experience, but rather by asking what I will
be looking for. And the truth is that where I am in my own life right now is a
place I’ve never been in before. I feel
so comfortable alone, so secure in my own answers to other people that it’s
become hard to ask what I’m looking for.
I’ve gotten used to being the one who gives answers, but now the time
has come to ask, and seek. I don’t know
what the questions are, but they are there.
I’m glad my first time going to such a foreign environment
is going to be with students, because as they experience something so new and
raw, their questions will become my own.
I’m trying to embrace the humility in me, and learn from the people
around me, but I’ve become so arrogant that embracing this humility has become
so hard. I’m glad my first time going to
travel, to really travel will require me to navigate and give answers, but to
go through this journey with other people too, will allow me to ask my own
questions too.
When I write, I sound like such a cliché.
So maybe it’s time to backtrack and explain the past two
weeks. For some odd reason, the company
I’m working for this summer decided that I should lead a trip to china. This company prides itself in authentic
travel, teaching global citizenship and global awareness and takes super rich
kids to go see what real poverty looks like.
Most of the students are highly driven, ambitious young men and women
who also want to change the world, or at least build up their resume. And I look at these goals and it seems like
such bullshit. How the fuck can a group
experience “authentic travel”? How can such cushioned teenagers with so much
money even experience anything
real? I came to the two week orientation
as a cynic, as you might tell. I was
going to piggyback on some else paying me to travel with kids for a couple of
weeks, so that I could go travel by myself after.
The orientation began with hugs and flowers the moment we
got off the bus in the Sierras, to which I responded poorly and tried to shy
away from strangers attempting to engross me with their pathetic false
love. That night it delved into a
ceremony in which one hundred people “intimately” shared their inner most
thoughts about why they do this work, as they symbolically threw a stick into
the fire. I wanted to yell “because it’s
a free ride to china”, or at least “because of the money”, but I held back and
practiced humility. These people
surrounding me weren’t jaded yet by the presumptuousness of trying to change
the world one student at a time. But as
the ceremony continued, what I realized is that it wasn’t that they weren’t
jaded yet, it was that they made a conscious decision to believe. Up until two years ago I was a believer too,
I was one of them, but standing around that circle reminded me of whom I once
was, and I had to make a choice. I
grasped my stick tightly in my right hand, struggling to let go and find the
words that would suit the occasion. In a
moment of clarity I finally spoke up and said “I do this work because it
reminds me to believe, and sometimes that’s really hard for me.” I did it, I
let go of my sarcasm, and allowed passion to penetrate the cold air of the
Sierras, to let it flow through my skin and finally reach my core. I didn’t
expect it, and immediately returned to analyze the power of ceremony. But for one moment I was able to articulate
what I was looking forward to – to believe.
As the orientation continued, I realized how similar to the
Kurs Madazim (the Israeli teenage instructor course), this whole experience was
to me. I was able to reinvent myself,
and decide who I wanted to be, but I also wasn’t sixteen anymore. My ability to let go of my image of self that
I have created over the years has diminished significantly, and I can no longer
just be whoever the fuck I want. In the
13 years that have passed since then, I’ve built a repertoire of behavior that
suits me, and I was more reluctant to let go.
I decided early on that I would not hesitate to be my direct self, even
though everyone around me was talking about respecting other cultures. I wanted to understand, but I also wasn’t
willing to let go of my abrasive side that tells people what I think. It’s
effective, and it gets shit done. But I also felt secluded, and that I could
learn from the people around me. The constant tension never disappeared, but I
thrived on it, joked through it so people get to see that even though I am
sometimes an asshole, that it could be playful and most of all, just fun.
The two weeks lasted an eternity, but looking back on them
now, they flew by. The people became gradually
more interesting, and my desire for humility began to manifest. My three years of training in an
overwhelmingly formal American society have at least taught me how to play
along. At least that. I know my value
and I know in what areas I can shine. I
didn’t hide behind a shadow of myself, but I also learned to accept.
I’m still not sure what the four weeks of travelling with
students will entail. I’m still not sure
what parts of myself will manifest in this trip. But more than anything else, I’ve willing to
play along. At least it’s a start.
Upon reflecting about what I wrote for a moment, I was
reminded of what a good friend once told me about my blog. That even though I sometimes feel that way,
the world doesn’t revolve around me, and that’s it’s nice that I can share so
intimately about my experiences, but I also have to remember to share what
exactly is going on. Albeit at the end
of this post, maybe I should share some more about what exactly I’ve been
doing. Two weeks ago I left Israel and
landed in Los Angeles. After spending a
day with my cousin, which was great, I got picked up and was driven six hours
north-west to the Sierras, which are the California Mountains. We camped for two weeks of orientation and
had multiple workshops about education, risk management and inter-cultural
communication. The assumption is that
most people on these trips have been to the countries they’re going to, and
that they know a lot about these places, so we spent very little time talking
about China. The main focus of these courses is the cultural experiences, so we
won’t be speaking much about politics or economics. They shy away from the macro, because they
want to intentionally focus on the micro and what people are experiencing. Although I find it frustrating, I’m willing
to play along.
Tomorrow the students arrive and I leave for China.
I’m still not sure what to expect, but I know it’s gonna be
good. Next post will be from Chengdu,
which is in the Sichuan province. Yeah,
that’s where Sichuan beef comes from.
So at least the food is gonna be good.
