Phone Notes

Some musings are best left as anecdotes, for now.

Thunderstorm

To truly appreciate Morocco is to dizzy yourself in the chaos of the souks and then journey into the mountains and be welcomed by the warmness of Amazigh hospitality. At just over 2,000 meters above sea level, sits Amoud, a village of 2000 people. It’s so quiet here. No wifi, no cell service, just the bristle of trees and cries of hungry cattle. The silence is only interrupted today by cackles of thunder and the call to prayer rattling between the peaks of the Atlas.

Complicity of Neighbors

There is currently an exhibit at the Holocaust museum titled “Some Were Neighbors: Collaboration & Complicity in the Holocaust”. It reflects on the progression of Nazi takeover and the implications of participation (or lack thereof) on a local level. The exhibit poses a number of questions. Is there such a thing as a bystander? Would you risk your own well being to protect a stranger? How much do you really know about the lives of those around you? And most importantly, what would you do if given the chance to act?

At the conclusion of the exhibit, there is a small notebook asking guests to reflect on their experiences. On the front page, there is a note from someone I assume to be around 13, or perhaps a doctor, given the illegibility of the handwriting.

“Why? It starts with social isolation, but it always ends with war.”

The Interview

Losing my phone in a taxi calling my parents from the tile store under the train tracks to pick me up. Freight elevator up to the fifth floor. Peering through the glass at an office with a tree house as a centerpiece and a zip line that was used more often than you may think. I sat in the red IKEA chair waiting to be taken into an interview that I couldn’t quite anticipate if it would be a theater audition or a test of wits. A resume review seemed the least likely.

In the beginning, it truly felt like magic. We were able to skip right over the anticipation of graduating, moving to a new city and starting our careers. We were absorbed into this world of high five hands, s’mores machines and family lunches. My second day of the internship was my twenty-second birthday. In a new city, with a new job, I found myself eating deep dish pizza surround by the first 11 of my fellow interns to celebrate. 140 or so more interns would join us next week. In all of the trials and tribulations that followed over the next few years, it was the experiences like those that kept me invested.

Travel

Traveling is so often romanticized. At some point we have all been wooed by an advertisement promising a luxury vacation, have contemplated backpacking through Europe, or explored training for a challenging trekking endeavor. Stories abound for reasons why people spend thousands to explore remote parts of the world. Movies turn into verbs to explain our helpless wanderlust. “Oh, she’s doing a real Eat Pray Love sort of thing, huh?”

Traveling is an incredible, complex and challenging privilege. A constant balancing act of consumerism and compassion.