It was a good ride, for a good cause

This spring I started a new hobby.

It sprang from an idea born at my friend Kristin's wedding reception in January in Iowa that unexpectedly doubled as a mini-college reunion. As we toasted the happy new couple (with a bit too much wine), plans were made to join a team to ride the Des Moines Register's Annual Bike Ride across Iowa (RAGBRAI) the last week of July.

Excitement built the next few months, and I registered to join Kristin and her husband Andy's team, The Crank Addicts. Never mind I had no bike, no gear, and no idea how to change a tire (nor that there was a tube INSIDE the tire).

As you can tell, becoming a "cyclist" was a well-thought out plan.

I began scouring Craigslist for a bike. After one Craigslist heartbreak and a bit of pouting over the "bike that got away," I bounced back and restarted my search.

Before I knew it, I was handing over a sizable amount of cash (the same amount, in fact, that I had sold my car for on Craigslist four years earlier) to a suburbanite in Golden, Colorado for One Sweet Ride.

Then came the learning curve of clipless pedals, riding shoes, learning to clip out quickly, falling in front of a busy golf course, falling while biking in high heels, and figuring out, how, exactly, DO I shift the gears on this bike?!?

As I put in some (well, one,) 50 mile day, and many more short rides in preparation, I began thinking about raising money through the bike ride for the NGO (non-governmental organization), One! International, I taught at in India last year. I've done many running races through the years, but never raised any money. I felt like this was the time, and the cause was perfect.

One! teaches and provides mentorship for over 100 students in two areas of the slums in Mumbai (Bombay). It's a small NGO, which does amazing work and really makes a difference in the kids’ lives, providing them opportunities through education they would never have otherwise.

Teaching there was the best and most rewarding thing I did while I lived and travelled abroad last year.

So, I set up a website donation page and emailed friends and family notifying them of my Crazy Bike Ride and corresponding cause.

RAGBRAI was, as I expected, amazing. I rode every mile plus 20 extra (to put in a century day) for a total of 462 miles in seven days. The event itself is more of a rolling party than anything else, and with all the small-town churches located along the route, I ate well (think pie, biscuits and gravy, pot roast, sweet corn, and enough pork for a lifetime). My teammates were delightful, and welcomed me like I was family.

RAGBRAI conjured up thoughts of a quote from the movie “Field of Dreams”, where Kevin Costner’s character is asked, “Is this heaven?”

And he responds, “No, it’s Iowa.”

And yet, despite all the joyous shenanigans that RAGBRAI brings, the most awesome part of the entire adventure was that because of the generosity of friends and family who were willing to support me and the children at One!, my Crazy Bike Ride Across Iowa raised a significant sum—$952.52 to date!

I whole-heartedly thank everyone who donated to my cause to support One!—the money raised will truly be used to directly benefit the wonderful children studying there and the kindhearted teachers and volunteers providing their time to help the kids succeed.

And next year if anyone's interested in doing RAGBRAI, don't waver, it's a total and complete blast! You will finish the ride with a sense of accomplishment, great stories, and absolutely no regrets.

Yep, that's me with the flashy orange pants, teaching in August, 2009 in Mumbai

Team Crank Addicts on the last morning of RAGBRAI! July, 2010

You don't get love, you give it

When I was traveling last year, I read a lot of books.

One of those books was "Shantaram" by Gregory David Roberts. It's a mammoth book, a colossal undertaking of 944 pages that I braved largely because it was based in my newly-adopted hometown of Mumbai (Bombay), India. Like the author, I too had relocated there, though admittedly on much tamer circumstances. I bought the book on the second day of a 9 day trek in Nepal (after realizing Twilight #2 was nowhere to be found). I still shoulder some guilt for having our 16-year old porter Norbu carry it all those miles.

There's a line in the book, where Roberts ends one of the chapters by writing "You don't get love, you give it." At the time, I wrote it off for a cliche statement. But it has stuck with me since that quiet day in May when I read it, and I find myself lately reflecting back on one of the most amazing years of my life, and realizing just how true it is.

I've been fortunate enough to meet people throughout this year, and have experiences, that I would never have had the courage to even attempt in the first place without the support of so many family and friends. I've found myself thinking a lot about giving versus getting love, as I have been lucky enough to be the recipient of so much love, often when I didn't even deserve it.

Selflessly and completely, people have seriously shown me the love this year. And I keep wondering if I've done the same in return.

Several people have asked me what the highlights were of my time abroad, and one of the first things that comes to mind is my experience teaching in Bombay. The children I taught there are amazing, and as much as I love them, I feel like they gave me so much more love, unconditionally and without question, even while having so little, that it wasn't nearly a fair trade (though I did teach them what "totally awesome" meant, so I tried to show my appreciation on some level).

My entire adventure would not have been possible without my friend Sunitha and her husband Ashwyn who welcomed me not as a guest in their home, but as part of their family. I'm yet to figure out a proper repayment for their kindness, generosity, and sharing of their wealth of knowledge about Bombay (specifically its fine foods, both at home and eating out!) To have that time to spend with Sunitha again was priceless; I hope someday I will have a home as awesome as theirs to host them in (and maybe even on a beach, too!) and try and live up to the high bar that is Indian hospitality.

I'm not sure I ever explained how much it meant to me that friends and family came to visit me--Jessie, Bryan, and Randy--and experience the craziness of India firsthand, but the random motorcycle rides in the dark, the beers for breakfast, and the photo collages of food in Nepal and India will not soon be forgotten. For those friends I traveled with outside of India--Libby, Abdullah, Patti, Sarah and Gareth--the nights out in Mykonos, the kufte in Istanbul, the brewery tours in Ireland/Holland, the MeatBowl in Melbourne all still bring a smile to my face.

The list goes on of all the people who have given me so much love: the D-town winos, who got me bacon when I was fresh off the plane back in Denver in August; Annie K, not only for keeping my car but always being there to listen to all my random boy stories; Carolyn for watching my plants and being a shoulder to lean on; my parents for supporting me even when they think I'm crazy (which, I think is a majority of the time); Maria for encouraging me not to get a real job and to travel more; Jeffy Peeps for being my favorite Peoples; Joe for sending me Newsweeks and Economists in the mail; Nanu for telling me that no one would judge me if I decided I hated India and decided to go home early; Phil for hooking us up with Pemba Sherpa in Nepal; and for everyone that sent me a message while I was gone, that I've seen since I've gotten back over coffee, whiskeys, lunches or beers; who read my blog and (hopefully) enjoyed it; it's been amazing for me to have you all along for the ride the last year with me, through the ups and downs, the rik-shaws and the cows, the dance parties and the sunrises.

I come back to the statement again; with all this love I'm getting, is it true that you don't really get it, but give it?

And then, January 8th marked one year since I departed Denver and flew to Mumbai, unsure of what life held for me but extremely excited, apprehensive, and happy. Now I find myself a few days into the new year, feeling similar, but for so many different reasons. My home is again in Denver, though I haven't had my own "home" yet, as I have been so lucky to have friends like Todd, Emily, Angelique, and Patti that have let me lean on them and literally put a roof over my head. For their graciousness, I am ever grateful. I've reconnected with old friends and met new ones, and set down temporary roots with a new job. My wanderlust hasn't waned, but for right now, I am trying to keep it in check (though trips to South Dakota, Minneapolis, Iowa, and soon Phoenix worked themselves into my itinerary quickly in the nearly five months since I've been back).

When I was in India, my friend Jim and I in Denver wrote snail mail letters back and forth (which were a guarantee to wipe out any inkling of homesickness each time I got one). In one of those letters in February, I remember writing him about how happy I was at that moment, being in India, floundering but exploring, pushing my boundaries, encompassed by novelty and sensory overload and cows and garbage and color. I'm pretty sure the next day I was probably cursing India and all its headaches and shortcomings and lack of infrastructure. But at that moment, as I wrote to my good buddy, my perspective wasn't tainted. It was filled with love of my situation, my experience, my adventure. I was letting the love in, and giving it back.

The journey I set out on last year may have come full circle, as a new one is just beginning. And for that I am extraordinarily grateful. Because of all the things I learned, one of the most important was to not be afraid to give love. I've learned that if you do give it, you may find yourself lucky enough to get it, too. And I hope, out of all the books I've read over the years, I carry that message I came across in Shantaram with me in all my adventures yet to come.

All good things must end

July 26 - August 18, 2009 Mumbai & Lonavla, India

My last three weeks in India were bittersweet.

I moved from my friend Sunitha's house to the apartment with the volunteer housing. Since I would be teaching full time at both the school in the city and one in Nallasopara, a northern suburb. To say I was moving to a polar opposite place could not have been more accurate, and as Terri, a fellow volunteer commented when he helped me haul my stuff to the new apartment: "You DO know what it looks like, right?"

I did, and I was excited for this change for the last bit of time I spent in Mumbai.

My last few weeks were tiring, but mostly happy. I would leave for a full day of teaching either at the Khar Danda school, which was a 10 minute rik ride away, or prepare to go to Nallasopara, which involved the following steps:


1. Rik to train station: 10 minutes
2. Buy train ticket: 1-5 minutes
3. Wait for train/eat salty snacks for breakfast: 10 minutes
4. Get on correct train in women's compartment for 50 minutes
5. Exit train, find Shankar (fellow teacher) to meet and walk to another rik: 5-10 minutes
6. Rik to slum: 10-15 minutes
7. Walk from edge of slum to school, 15 minutes
8. Teach all day
9. Repeat commute, but in reverse
Below are several photos from those last few weeks at Nallasopara and at Khar:

All smiles at Nallasopara, though I am pretty sure this wasn't my demeanor the whole day, but it certainly was his!

Sunil at Khar Danda school; soooooooo many computer flashcards we studied!

Milk store on the way to/from Khar School.

Good carrier truck, common scene in the slums and on the regular roads. This one is in Nallasopara.

This awesome kid and I learned "U" is for unicorn. I love this photo of him.

Thanks to my friend Joe in Denver for sending me news magazines; little Sapna especially liked this one.

Deepak, one of the oldest boys at Khar school. He does a MEAN rendition of "Lean on Me."

As i took this photo, one of the students reminded me, "Leah Didi, that's a cow." Yes, indeed.

On my last day at Nallasopara. Pencils and Bananas, naturally! I love the girl in the background.

Much time was spent the last few weeks dodging the huge rats in the alleyways between the buildings that lead to the Internet "store" from the apartment, catching up with friends I had missed while traveling in Europe, and going out and meeting new friends, and some new guys, too. I knew soon enough I would be another tallish, blondish girl in America, so I took advantage of the attention and met some interesting fellas. I never would have experienced Indian karaoke, or sang "Summer of '69" to a boisterous crowd, if I hadn't met Senthil, or had the chance to dance to Akon until 3:30 a.m. if not for Chirag, Harsh and Mehir (my running club buddies), or stay up til sunrise, walk to Juhu beach with 7 others and drink from a coconut; the same sand where just two months before I was running to train for the half marathon in England. I also met up with Afreen, a woman who was at the Vipassana meditation with me who's from California, and we had a most interesting dinner at BBQ Nation, a popular, albeit pricey, restaurant. Finally, I made sure to take advantage of the spa in Mumbai one last time; an eyebrow threading (rather than wax) comes out to less than $1 there (some things I do really miss about India).

Some more photos from school:

"Kushboo's best friend Leah" awwww

He smiled ALWAYS, except for this snap.

Seriously, so composed!

And then, 5 seconds later! Happiness!

Swine flu caused me to miss my last few days with my kids at Khar, which I was way bummed out, but teacher Mahendra and I poked some fun of it my last day at Nallasopara.

A group of the youngest kids at Nallasopara!

My last weekend in India I spent in Lonavla, a few hours out of Mumbai, with the Hash running club. Being monsoon season, we still ran, even in the pouring rain. We also had two nights of dance parties and a late night drive up the mountain side, listening to M.I.A. and the Black-Eyed Peas will not be soon forgotten. It was the last day of the weekend when I was christened with my Hash Name "Slum Bitch" in honor of my teaching stint, and riding back to the city with Harsh, Chirag and Mehir I wondered when I would see them again, but I never wondered IF I would. Harsh and Chirag especially were great friends to me when I was in Mumbai, sharing in several adventures, and without which my experience would have been very different. Thank goodness I love to learn from books, and read a book that mentioned the Hash House Harriers. And thank goodness for Facebook, that I know what they're doing all the time.

Mehir and Harsh on our first run of the weekend.

Sad faces cuz I'm going back to the states.

Mehir and road cow!

Me and the boys.

Lonavla beauty.

I took a rik from the volunteer apartments after the guys dropped me off (after a few last beers) and headed to Sunitha's, as she would be taking me to the airport the next day. I spent the last day having a samosa at my favorite sweet shop, Tewari Brothers, and checking my email at good old Reliance World, even with their crap customer service, they did allow me to Skype.

It was with mixed feelings I packed and prepared to leave. I was really calm though; I knew it was time to go, and I knew what would await me as all the adventures I had did not come cheap, and realized I would have to get a job when I returned.

I wasn't worried though; I was happy. Happy to have been in India, happy to be leaving for the next chapter of my life, and happy to know that even though I was leaving friends behind I would be returning to so many I missed.

Sunitha escorted me to the airport, and while it was sad to say goodbye to her, she joked we'd have a reunion at some point, likely at my wedding (which may very well be in 50 years). I couldn't help laugh though, as just three weeks earlier when I left Vipassana my rik driver had told me "You are not Married! NOOOO! How old are you? 30!?! Oh my. Next year, I know this. You return to India, with your husband. You will be married then. Then you will find me, and I will be SOOOOOOOOOO happy! Yes, this I know, because you have a good spirit! You will be happy with husband yes!"

As I got out of the rik, hugged Suni and took in my last gulp of humid, Bombay-polluted air I turned and smiled. I had survived India, and India had survived me. And who knows what next year will bring...but I couldn't wait to find out.

Some of my favorite kids, coloring break, Khar Danda school, Mumbai, India.

London Town (or I love Cadbury Spread on Toast)

July 7-12th, 2009

"I'm saving up my money

Gonna fly back to London Town

Don't think that I should

But I can't help myself right now

Cuz if I make it

Back to London

I may never

Make it out." --Chris Seefried, "London"

The two things I loved most about London: easily navigable public transit and Cadbury chocolate spread on toast.

I arrived in London on a Tuesday afternoon, tired from my flight from Athens but excited about being in London for the first time in a decade. I found my hostel easily (located a block from Hyde Park,) and thanks to advice from my friend Pete from high school bought an oyster card for the public transit. My hostel had free wireless as well as a common room, and since I was staying in a shared room with 7 others, it was a welcome amenity. I took it easy the first night, treating myself to an Italian dinner and a good glass of wine.

The next day I went for an early job in Hyde Park; it's not every day I get a chance to run past so many historic things, but I found myself wondering what it would be like to run past those each day. It was something, I thought, I could get used to.

After making plans to meet up with Pete the next day, I began navigating the buses and Tube. I passed by Big Ben and gave him a wave, and then took a ride in the London Eye, since that wasn't there the last time I was in London. Having nothing on my hands but time, I took in the Dali exhibit and made my way to Trafalgar Square, treated myself to coffee, and ducked into the National Gallery for a few minutes.

It was freeing to be able to make decisions on a whim, traveling alone. And I wasn't lonely due to the large amount of people around. I was loving London, and it seemed to be sharing the love right back.

My next decision: going to Lion King in the evening, which was fantastic and I had never seen it before. I ended up sitting next to a Canadian women in her early 20s who was nannying abroad, and hoping next to go to Spain.

View from/of the London Eye.

Hello London.

There's the Big Ben.

London Archy architecture.

Boy conquers lion in Tralfagar Square.

The following morning I headed out to the Campden Market and found some used Wellies to take back with me for the monsoon season in India. I spent most of the day wandering, taking photos, and eating fish n chips before busing it to the Hampstead Heath area and walking to the highest point in London. Finishing a book, I watched a handsome guy flying a kite before heading back down to meet Pete for crepes and a beer. It'd been years since I'd seen him, and it was great to catch up. Soon we were heading to the opposite side of town, to go to a party with some of Pete's friends who are professional symphony musicians. A few had played in the Mumbai Symphony, so it was especially fun for me to talk with them (though I couldn't help wonder how I happened to be crashing a party full of professional musicians, when I quit the clarinet in 10th grade and can't play a bar chord clearly on my guitar). I had to run to catch the tube back to the hostel before it stopped for the night, and as I reached I spilled my purse on the ground, the token/security man took pity on me and helped me gather extra change before the last train left.

Wellies from London, left in Mumbai. Such a pity I didn't bring them back.

Can you believe I held out and did not buy a wig? Loved this store though!

View from Hampstead Heath.

I continued my touristy trail of London the next day by strolling through the British Museum in the late morning, finding it odd to see art and sculpture from India and Greece when I had just been there. I did see a mummified hippo, the Rosetta Stone, and an outdoor garden exhibit on Indian plant life. I met Pete and two of his friends for lunch and we had, of all things, Indian Thali, which was delicious. I found a copy of High Fidelity in the afternoon in an old bookstore, and found a phone to call to change my flight back to the U.S. I wandered through the National Portrait Gallery (fantastic) and failed in my attempt to find a small photography museum.

Later, again in Tralfagar Square, there was a live art display taking place where each individual spent an hour on this raised pedestal in the square and could do anything they wanted, as long as it was legal, and they were alone. I saw a woman reading a book--not aloud--followed by a soccer mascot dancing to a boombox.

That is one OLD hippo.

My buddy.

Art display near Indian restaurant in London.

I soon made my way to the Aldwych Theatre where I upgraded my seat for Dirty Dancing (and yes, I had the time of my life). At the bus stop back, I was asked for directions from a young couple. Surprisingly, I was able o help them. I guess it only takes 3 days in London to seem at ease (and avid use of public transit).

LOVE that I got the random 80s girl in with the hot pink signs!

On Saturday I headed to the Portobello Market in Nottinghill where I was met by Pete and his friend Elizabeth, another delightful American. We wandered, ate churros, people watched, drank beer, basically, it was fabulous. In the afternoon I headed to see a Kate Nash show at a literature festival in Queen Elizabeth Hall that was a combined book release/signing for Laura Dockrill, a friend of Nash's releasing a book called "Ugly Shy Girls", and met Pete and Elizabeth again that night for a drink, though with the early closing of pubs in London it didn't end up being a late night. I did manage to get slightly lost finding the correct bus back to the hostel, but was able to sort it out, only getting slightly drenched in the rain.

Portobello Market view.

Please give me a key to your pastel house, where I will while away my days and water your plants.

Pete and I: Holla for SD!!!

Elizabeth is awesome!

I spent my last morning in London doing laundry and eating my last breakfast in a long time of toast with Cadbury chocolate spread (DELICIOUS!) I headed to the Serpentine Gallery in Hyde Park which featured art from American Jeff Koons and his work about Popeye and also inflatables (it was cool, trust me). I headed to the Natural History museum to see some dinosaurs, but since it was Sunday it was packed and being prone to claustrophobia, I split to see the Victoria & Albert Museum (or V&A) nearby and eat lunch by a pond outside. I highly recommend going if you are in London!

My last stop before the airport was to meet my friend Becca who I volunteered with at One! International in Mumbai. We had a beer and it was great to see her before I headed back to Mumbai. I told her I would be moving into the volunteer housing--where she had stayed--and she laughed, hoping I would be prepared, as it would be much more bare bones than Sunitha's house...so we would see!

Turns out, British dinosaurs RARRR just as loud as American ones.

Outside the V&A Museum pond before returning to Mumbai.

Back to Amsterdam

AMSTERDAM July 4th - July 7th, 2009

It'd been 10.5 years since I'd been in Amsterdam.

My first visit, in January 1999, was three short days on the beginning of a three week tour of major art-stops in Europe. Touring with a group from college, we spent the brief few days hitting the tourist haunts and the nights dancing before our quick departure. I was excited to return, older, (hopefully) much wiser, and curious about the city I had been to long ago, heard so much about, but hadn't spent quality time.

We easily navigated from the train station to our hotel, which was in a great location near a beautiful canal (though it isn't hard to be near a canal here, admittedly). Patti and I wasted no time in grabbing a drink while Reed wanted some down time, and found a great outdoor haunt for whiskey and people watching. It was hot, and the pub had a baby pool one could wade in if so inclined.

Street view of Amsterdam.

Amsterdam is a city mostly at or slightly below sea level, and small land-wise, so most people get around on bicycles, which was evident immediately. After hanging for a bit, I decided to head out to find a gig that promised bluegrass/rock/punk/metal/folk/accordion tunes, which to me sounded like a perfect blend. Navigating the tram alone, I missed my stop and hoofed it back to the area I was looking for, only to finally reach the destination, knock on the decrepit looking door, and be told by a man playing up to Amesterdam cliches that the gig had moved, literally, near the stop I had accidentally got off on. I shrugged and began my walk back when I passed a very small, cute bar that could have passed for a simple but charming cafe. A man in his 60s started chatting me up, and before I knew it I was sitting with a few other Dutch men, spending the 4th of July in the company of a delightful entourage.

Soon I abandoned my plans to find the ecclectic gig, and settled in to bourbon and gingers, great conversation, and taking over the jukebox with my newfound Dutch friends. Turns out the owner was selling the bar in a few days, and it was a kind of last hurrah with him and some of his friends and neighbors.

My Dutch 4th of July buddies

I also learned what "large bike" or rather "bike that really is a huge wheel barrow"means in Dutch: "Bakfeets". A photo below:

Around 3 a.m. I headed back to my hotel, in a pricy but safe cab, having had an enjoyable evening with new friends who I likely would never see again but was so glad I had met.

The next morning Patti and I headed to the Museum of Bags and Purses which featured not only famous styles of purses and bags over the last 500 years, but bags from the likes of Madonna and Hillary Clinton and purses from all over the world. Admittedly a girly activity, I loved visiting it.

I swear I had a purse like this in 6th grade!

Who doesn't want a diamond Diet Coke purse? Really?

Found Hooch Street!

I spent the afternoon in the large Vondelpark in central Amsterdam, reading, writing, and listening to live music. Sitting there on a beautiful Sunday afternoon, it reminded me a lot of bein back in Denver. I also befriended Ghengis, quite the large pooch.

This dog was awesome!

Texas musician playing in Vondelpark in Amsterdam.

That evening we had a delicious dinner at an Indonesian restaurant, then headed out on a Canal Tour of the city, sailing in and out of the cities storied canals, while taking in the famous, and infamous, landmarks of the city.

Sporting some rad hats

Like glass.

Can't quite recall how I captured this.

Finally the next day we rented bicycles and Patti and I headed up first to a floating flower market and then to a huge weekend market packed with people and goods ranging from books to purses to antiques to clothes to fresh-squeezed orange juice. We then met up with the sleeping-in Reed, and took in another market nearby our hotel while sampling some delicious Dutch ice cream. Eventually we made it over to the Heineken Brewery, and enjoyed a delightful tour with not one but two complimentary brews.

Sooo touristy, I love it!

Pretty brewery stained glass windows.

That's right, put 'em up.

After the tour we continued on throughout the city on our bikes, but after some time we realized we were lost and Patti took an unfortunate tumble from her bike. There were police actually nearby who helped, and she was able to get up, brush off, and continue on as we finally found our way back. We took it easy the rest of the night, and I stayed up into the late hours doing much needed laundry in the creepy hotel basement laundromat.

On our last morning when Reed and I went to return our bikes it was pouring rain. We had been blessed up to that point to have had beautiful weather, so one morning of getting soaked seemed a small price to pay (though I did try in vain to blow dry my jeans before leaving for the airport).

It had been a fun adventure with Patti and Reed, but I was now excited to leave The Netherlands and have a few days of somewhat solo travel in London--another place I had not been for 10 1/2 years.