Simple joys

One of my favorite things about my life in Hawthorne is my morning walks with my pets (yes, plural). For about two months now, the cat has decided that she should join the dog and I on our regular strolls around the neighborhood. Scout sticks quite close to us. If we happen to get more than a house ahead of her, she loudly scolds the dog and I for our inattentiveness.

The neighbors are intrigued by the spectacle. My pet duo make people smile and laugh. Let's be honest-- they make me smile and laugh, too!

Pacific NW, Sarah Style

Spent a week in Seattle, San Juan Island, and Vancouver with my two best friends (Sarah cubed unite again). Ocean, orcas, bald eagles, ziplines, kayaks, tandem bicycles, good food, good wine, good conversation. Life is happy :)

LA can be okay: presenting Exhibit A

my favorite place to bike

Cultural excursion with the roommie

Disneyland play dates

friends and drinks 

So-cal weddings (Carlsbad)

reunions at said So-cal wedding (Oceanside)

run then relax (at least until the parking meter runs out)

LACMA artsy time

Kubrick special exhibit 

A few miles/laps closer to happy...

Perhaps my biggest adventure this month was signing up for a triathlon in August. This has forced me to spend a lot of time swimming, biking, and running in order to be prepared. Through these activities, I have spent hours exercising along the beach, in my neighborhood, and at the community pool. I can’t help but admit that I’ve seen a more appealing side of LA through these endeavors.  

In February I moved to Hawthorne. I now live about 3 miles from the ocean and I have definitely taken advantage of that the last few weeks. There are both biking and running paths that stretch from Playa Del Rey to Redondo Beach and I frequent both. The ocean offers escape from the cement people-packed chaos of LA. It also has some pretty great views (of both the coast and of shirtless volleyball players) as I log my biking/running miles. I’ve even managed to coerce some of my friends who rarely frequent the South Bay to join me on training runs. The beach makes a pretty compelling carrot. A new friend from church joined me on a bike ride this week. All-in-all, beachside workouts are an amazing part of my LA life.

I also have used my current athletic obsession as an excuse to cross train. I played in a meetup group soccer match last week and was thrilled to discover not all my skills were completely gone. Plus I met some new people and hopefully will continue to get to know them as I become more of a regular. I also went paddle boarding for the first time in Newport Beach with a good friend and her brothers (I cannot boast of ANY skills in that arena; I may or may not have run into a dock). A few weeks ago I also hiked in the Malibu hills with my roommate and a friend in our program—a nice reminder that there are still unpopulated areas just a bit outside the city.

Finally, on the note of athletics, I am grateful for the running community that I am slowly finding here. My roommate is an avid runner, so she and I can periodically train together. I have another running buddy in the neighborhood that joins us for midweek runs.

Magazines always proclaim that physical fitness promotes happiness. I can definitely say that my athletic endeavors the past few weeks have helped make my attitude towards life and towards this city a little bit brighter.

Learning to Like LA

I think my post 6 months ago was a plea with myself to clamber out of my pit of culture shock and start living. However, in reality the six months since that last post have been just as challenging as the first six months in this country. It was hard to find the time or energy to write.

It has been a year since I moved back to the US. In many ways, this year has flown by. When I think back upon my departure from Uganda, it feels like yesterday. And yet, this year has been one obstacle after the next in an often-lonely journey to understand academia, Los Angeles, and the US. While this year has been tough, I have learned a lot about each realm: I’ve networked to find jobs in a totally broke  and overstretched (financially) UC system, I’ve learned the back-routes to escape the 405 when there’s an accident (or 4) on my way to school, I’ve watched enough television to understand 1/30 pop references (though still don’t ask me who the celebrity is sitting at the table next to me), I’ve found a roommate who helps keep me balanced and has patience with my wild African critters and all their strange issues, I know my neighbors to the degree that I inform them when I am travelling. Basically, learning new cultures is hard work and life in LA has felt very foreign at many points in time. However, bit by bit I am understanding things better.

After surviving a completely chaotic spring quarter, I made a promise to myself: this summer, while I have a more flexible schedule (I am doing independent research), I am going to be intentional about learning to like LA. So, with that, I also hope to re-start my blogging for fun. I can’t promise it will stick, but here’s to trying.

Rejoining the blogging world

After several months of sulking about the relative boringness of my life in LA, I am going to restart this sucker. Blogging is good for the soul. 

I've spent the past two weeks in San Jose with family and friends. Each time I return home, I remember how blessed I am. I have parents that continue to welcome me (and my animals) into their home. I love spending hours in the hot tub with them contemplating ways to stop the dogs from digging up the yard, plotting life plans, and reflecting on transitions. I have grandparents who encourage and love generously. I could sit on their couch listening to stories, poetry recitations, and family updates for hours. I have genuine relationships with both my brothers. No matter how much we joke around, I know that we are protective, supportive, and proud of each other. I have friends who have known me for 10, 15, 20+ years. There is no self-consciousness with these friends. Only lots of laughter, banter, and tough questions. So nice to go from a slow social life in Socal to tacky sweater parties, miniature ice skating rinks under palm trees, white elephant exchanges, baby showers, hot tub soaks, annual Christmas parties, social walks, wine bars, and coffee dates. The full-blown extrovert in me has reveled in this people time. 

It gets easy to wallow in self-pity about the difficulty of transitions (in case you haven't gathered, my transition back to the US has been a bit bumpy). Yet, I am reminded this holiday that there are a lot of amazing people in my life. Not only in San Jose, but all over the world. Happy holidays, everyone!

Transitions Suck

Transitions. They can be exciting. They can be adventurous. And yet, they can be really challenging. For all their hype, the thesis of this post (can you tell I'm back to student mode): transitions suck.

I have been in LA for about a month and a half now.  My walk to UCLA can be conducted on auto-pilot. I no longer rely on google maps to get me to the basic pit stops. I've definitely gotten fully immersed in course work. I have favorite iPhone apps. I know which grocery stores have the best produce. I know which running routes have sidewalks. My room feels like a refuge.

And yet... I have only begun to build social networks. I miss my old life and communities considerably. I am trying to adjust to living as a frugal student as opposed to living freely as a financially comfortable working adult. To having roommates after years living on my own. To losing control of my work (teachers set coursework, TA/students are at the whims of professors).  To LA's vastly different values and social paradigms. To studying within a quarter system and a large chaotic school.

Looking back, each major transition I have made has been accompanied by a period of grieving, second-guessing, and loneliness. I shouldn't be surprised. It is a natural part of the transition process.

And yet, each time I find that I get impatient. I want to be back to my upbeat, enthusiastic, social self. I want to flash-forward several months to when I feel known and connected. I know it'll happen. I just need to ride out the low.

In these periods, I find I just don't write. But perhaps it is better to be honest with myself that life isn't all roses right now, and that that is okay.

American Life Begins

It has been a month and a half since I left Uganda.

While I still struggle to regain my parking skills from a driving perch on the left side of the car, I very rarely veer towards the wrong side of the road or accidentally activate my windshield wipers instead of my turn signal. I don't have to pause anymore to consider which side of the toilet I will find the flusher on. Power and internet access feel normal and I have learned a plethora of relevant jargon. Along with the rest of America, I have become addicted to my iPhone and see why the church signs reminding congregants to silence their devices pictures a smart phone (not one spotting of a Nokia cheap phone here yet). I now remember to bring a sweater with me in the evenings. My environmentalist excitement over solar-paneled parking lots in schools and mandatory reusable bags in all SJ stores has dimmed.  It’s true that my blood pressure continues to rise when asked to write a check or quickly navigate a credit card machine. I still find malls, OnDemand, and grocery stores overwhelming. And yet, on the whole, I feel that I have adjusted reasonably thus far.

My pets, too, have made the shift towards American life. Scout has adjusted from geckos, birds, and cockroaches to feathers on sticks and cardboard scratchers. Ben can’t stop wrestling with his now fast friend, Bailey, and has become a fan of dog parks. He no longer noses the front door, looking at me with big questioning eyes that beg to go home to Uganda. Both pets interact with my parents with much the same affection they held for Harriet or my longtime night-guard, Jaqueen. We all have settle into the start of routines.

Over the last month or so, people have periodically asked me how I am doing with culture shock; I haven’t quite had the words to answer. Sure, there are glaring differences between the Bay Area and Kampala. Of course there are shifts as I transition from my own 3-bedroom house to a shared space with my parents and their dog. It is not surprising that I have had periodic pangs of grief for the life I am leaving behind. Or that I have thoroughly enjoyed catching up with family and friends. Or even that I have been a bit numb to the emotional aspects of repatriation—pushing off the processing to another day.

I think the shock of it all has been postponed partially because I am accustomed to travel. Most years I have returned to CA for several weeks at a time; this experience has been reminiscent of such past trips. Even if I manage to conceptualize that this is, in fact, a transition instead of a trip, it is hardly the first time I have uprooted myself and moved from city to city, country to country, continent to distant content. I am quite proficient at acclimation.

Now, though, is when I usually transition abroad. For the last three weeks I have been finding an American housing rental, a University job, and a domestic car (check, check, and check) instead of tediously weighing my personal items to consider if I have enough space for an extra bag of chocolate chips or dried fruit in my luggage. Instead of speed-reading a 500 page book to save myself the travel weight.

As time creeps into August, I feel like I should be getting back on a plane to hug Harriet and Loveline, to catch up on a long walk with Lindsay, to ogle at the growth of babies Kaitlyn, Malia, Chelema, and Isla, to be mocked by Jamie, to hear the details of Johnny and Amber’s summer escapades, to lounge at Mark and Lucy’s, to plot a new trip, to meet the new arrivals, to assume brace position for the onslaught of new school year craziness.

Instead, I remain in CA and wondering if I should put my passport in the safety deposit box. I am bombarded by the ceaseless air raid of expenses that come with American living (car insurance, phone bills, health insurance, AAA… the list goes on and on). I find myself contemplating what life will look like when I don’t have parades of teenagers meandering in and out of my classroom. What life will look like when I am the student again.

I guess it is fair to say that the processing is beginning. 

Happy Father's Day!

I am blessed to have amazing men in my life.

Thanks Dad, for being so incredibly devoted, hard working, and supportive. I could not ask for a more reliable father!

I also have been blessed with a grandfather who has been loving, compassionate, and encouraging. Thanks for being such an inspiration!

While I am getting increasingly devastated by my upcoming move and the goodbyes that it entails, I cannot wait to be closer to family! Looking forward to being around for holidays and having the opportunity to give hugs (or even cards) more easily!

And then there were 10... (days remaining)

Last night the school held a tribute party for departing faculty. It was a lovely night of good company, amusing roasts, and touching speeches.

I love these events-- they always bring out the best in communities. Friends celebrate, lovingly mock, and articulate the depth of relationships. These parties, in various forms, mark the undebatable descent into the final days on international schools' calendars. They signal that goodbyes can, and should, officially begin.

It felt very surreal to be a leaver this year. My friends re-wrote a song that simultaneously belittled and elevated me. It successfully reflected the intimate knowledge my friends have of me-- the good, the bad, and the ridiculous. As I listened to my friends belt the words into a microphone as I watched a slideshow of hideous pictures of myself, I reflected on the degree to which friends in international settings become family. I have been very blessed to have genuine friendships with people who care deeply about each other and me. I am going to really miss these folks!

It's becoming real. Soon, I will really have to say goodbye. I don't want to.