Category Archives: Vacations

Ixtapa, Mexico

About a week ago, I went on my tenth vacation with my grandparents, brother and cousins. Shout out to my grandparents who have taken us all from the time I was six. I’m so thankful for the opportunity they gave me to travel. If it wasn’t for them, I wouldn’t have been very many places. But I’m thankful for something even more important: the opportunity they gave us grandkids to get to know each other. My cousins are like my siblings. And I’m so happy for the relationship I have with them.

We ended the ten year streak with a bang: Mexico. We stayed at a Club Med resort in Ixtapa on the Pacific. Needless to say it was beautiful, and don’t even get me started on the food. Amazing. We met people from all around the US, France, Canada, and Mexico (wasn’t expecting that last one, were ya?). Plus I got to do one of my favorite things: the trapeze!

But a resort really isn’t my scene. I knew this from previous vacations, but it really stood out on this one. The third day there I was actually rather upset. Not angry, but sad and confused. You see, I didn’t fit in with any of the people I met. Their lives, their goals, their way of talking was so far from what I valued. Yeah, some of them were fun, but I felt completely out of place. It wasn’t that their conversation made me feel uncomfortable, but I didn’t know how to contribute. I mean, what was I supposed to add to their stories of getting drunk and the parties or clubs they’ve snuck into? So on that third morning I took my journal and found a nice spot on the beach to think.

I also was pondering a question that one guy had asked me the night before, “So what is your friend group? Like what category do your friends fit in and how do you play into that?” I wasn’t sure how to answer because I had never thought about it before. I think I said something to the effect of, “I think all my friends are clever in one way or another. I respect their opinions, and they make me change.” That is true, but I wasn’t sure how I fit into the picture. I wasn’t sure who I was in my friend group because some of my friends are polar opposites.

So I thought. After about an hour on the beach, I realized why I was feeling so awkward around these people at the resort, and who I was with my friends.

I was used to being the “crazy” one. I’m the most wild. I dance the craziest. I’m not sure how to describe it exactly, and if you were to ask my friends, they could very well disagree, but to me that is the role I play. I didn’t even realize I played a role until then. I guess I like shocking people. I feel comfortable shocking people. I get a sort of high off of it. But I wondered why. I figured, when it comes down to it, I like being different. The reason I felt so uncomfortable at the resort was because I no longer was in the role I was used to playing. I was the conservative one for the first time in my life. I was the one who didn’t do things or wear things. I wrote in my journal that day, “Is it true that if I just wore a bikini people would take me seriously?” Because me and my tankini over here feel like we were being excluded. So in Ixtapa, Mexico, I was faced with a decision. Either I changed the role I played or I played up my role. I could decide not to wear a tank top underneath shirts that I thought needed one. I could say things, ask guys for alcohol, grind, and kiss more than anyone else there. That’s what it would take to stay in the role I was used to. I didn’t want that, though.

Different. That’s what I wanted to be. Drinking and flirting was not different. Okay, I thought to myself. So what do I do? I’m not going to be the shock factor here. Then I realized that being different and shocking people are not the same thing.

Different for something. That’s what I needed to be. Anyone can act differently. Anyone can pretend to be anyone they wanted to be or as interesting as they wanted to be. But that’s a fake identity. I needed to be different for a reason. I couldn’t change who I was depending on who I was with. I couldn’t stay in the state I was in. I was changing. The world was changing. What could I be that would always, no matter when or where, be different and interesting and slightly scandalous?

Then it hit me. A Christian. Duh. Well actually when it happened it was more of an “Aha!” than a “duh” moment for me. No matter who I talked to, an identity in Christ would always be different. What is more interesting than some one who goes against what the crowd is doing and fighting for something more? What is more scandalous than a relationship with God?

A Christian. That was what my identity needed to be. I said “duh” earlier because ever since I was little that’s what I was told by everyone in my circles: Christ should be my identity. But it was then in Mexico that I realized what that meant. First and foremost, I decided to be a Christian that week.

The tank tops stayed on. My swear free language stayed the same. I said no to the shots. And I decide not to participate in the skinny dipping. And I had fun. Not because I was shocking people, though I did probably confuse several, but because I knew why I was acting differently from all these people. I had fun because I actually made friends instead of making out. I had fun because I gained the respect of people and learned new skills. I had fun because I listened to people tell me stories from around the world. (I do have to say that I was totally the best dancer there, though.) The small group of people that I actually had some form of respect for noticed that I wasn’t the same. One guy, Santiago, even told me, “You’re different from all the other girls.” It must have been a good different because he and I along with my cousin Ean hung out most of the week.

Life is easy when you know who you are. And life is amazing when Christ is who you are.

Of course, the next question is “how does one live in Christ” but that’s for another time. I’ll write a post on that when I have some kind of an answer. Or I’ll write one to get some sort of an answer.

Here’s a video of the trip I put together:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2d8z3XPGFDA

My Golden Sunshine: Hawaii

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It’s finally here! Eight months, 6,282 words and 11 pages later, my Hawaii paper is done. This is a monument. And also just a recollection of my times in O’ahu.

The Very Beginning

20131023_JKW_00008-53 I barely know how to begin or write about my time there. The whole experience was one of those things that creep in slowly without your knowledge until it becomes a part of you. There wasn’t a “BAM” or “lightbulb” moment in the whole trip. Maybe that’s why it was so different from any trip I’ve ever been on: it was merely life. It was living; it was feeling; it was caring; it was needing. It was laughing and crying. It was learning and sharing. But I must start somewhere.

I’ve heard the beginning is the very best way to start. So I’ll make the beginning of my trip at the O’Hare airport at 7:30am with Kara, my traveling partner and roommate for the next 13 days. Oh, and I’d only met Kara once previously. So here we are two minors, mere acquaintances really, standing with our luggage in an airport not sure what direction to go. We were directed to a specialty frequent flier security line. I’m thinking that it must be a mistake, but they let us through the line. We didn’t have to take off our shoes, coats, belts, take anything out of our bags or go through the body scanners. Heaven in an airport. We boarded the plane, took off and tried to get comfortable for the 8 1/2 hour flight to Honolulu, Hawaii. The flight was perfectly average. But on the way down, things got interesting. It was Kara’s first time on an airplane and apparently she wasn’t feeling too well. All I remember one moment I’m trying to get a view out the window and the next Kara fumbling around in the pocket of the seat in front of her for one of those little blue paper bangs. If there is one thing I’m a wimp about, it would have to be throwing up. Even after my Mongolia experience when the whole team’s breakfasts, lunches and dinners burst out of them like a water through a fountain I still can’t deal with vomit well. So I just sat there and said, “I’m sorry I can’t help. But are you okay? I just can’t look.” Yeah, I’m a jerk. Kara mended herself well though, and before we knew it, we had landed.

“Baggage claim B” was to be the rendezvous point for us and Joanna, our friend we were meeting. I was looking around for her when I heard familiar footsteps running behind me. I smiled, turned, and hugged Jo. I hadn’t seen her in a month and I hadn’t realized how much I missed her until then. After hellos were exchanged and leis were given to Kara and me, Dawn and the kids arrived at the airport.

I was going to spend two weeks with three kids. For me that was strange and kind of scary. I’m the youngest in my family, and I had hardly ever spent time with kids. I don’t know how to deal with them. If there was a little kid in the room, I would normally place myself in the opposite corner. So I was nervously curious to meet these kids and their mother. Dawn came out of the minivan and gave me a big hug. I knew that we would get along perfectly well from that moment. There was something about her smile and the way she said things that made me overcome my judging forethoughts and embrace this loving woman who would become my Hawaii mama.

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An Escape to the Lake

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A week ago, my dad and I drove up to Lake Geneva for a four day Under the Radar music conference. And it was marvelous. Talk about fantastic music. Seriously, good stuff. But there was more than just concerts. During the daytime there were break out sessions like listening in on an interview, Q&A’s with different artists, song writing seminars and so on.

I actually got to have the opportunity to have a one on one hour talk with an award- winning song writer Nicole Witt about my songs. That was a little freaky. It wasn’t only an amateur talking with the pro. I just don’t like sharing my songs with people. At all. People say to write about what you know, and so I do. But that makes it personal. And I express things through songs that I wouldn’t dream of ever telling someone, so it’s kind of an inward look into the part of me that I don’t show. Not that it’s a bad or secretive part, but we all have memories or feelings or thoughts what we keep inside. So anyway, thanks to my dad’s pushing, I sang one of my songs for Nicole and showed her some other lyrics of mine. I’m glad I did it. Feedback is amazing especially when it’s good.

I also got to hang out with one of my favorite bands again. Yes, it is The Vespers. I got to have pizza and chat with them one day. And I got a pretty fantastic photo with them. Just wait for it.

It was really kicky getting to know all the artists over the weekend. Guests and musicians both stayed at Conference Point, which is a campground. Needless to say, we all saw a lot of each other. There was a real sense of community that I haven’t felt since I was in the Ger District of Mongolia. It’s great to make memories, but it’s also great to be reminded of the good ones.

And what makes great memories? The people. There were some cool peeps there from other teens to the artiests to retired piano teachers to little six year olds with gaps in their teeth.

I know, it’s incredible, but I actually made friends with a six year old, Lanie. Normally, I don’t know what to say or do and I’m just plain awkward and no fun around kids. But not this time! Lanie heard me singing on the back porch the first day and would peep around the corner to watch me and then shoot her head back as soon as I looked up. During the concert on the second day while the musicians were changing over the stage, she ran up with a huge inquisitive smile on her face and said, “You should sing.”

I said, “Now?” Thinking, what on earth do I say to this girl?

She replied, “Sure. Or whenever.”

“How about tomorrow morning you and I sing together?” I said, still unsure.

Now it was her time to be a bit nervous, “Me? Sing with you? But…”

“Please?” looking slightly disappointed.

She said okay still smiling. She sat with me for the rest of the concert. During the next change over of artist she said, looking at her bare feet, “I only have four toes.”

I looked down startled (that’s not something that usually comes up in conversation) and sure enough Lanie only had four toes. Thinking that I need to keep this girl from being insecure I said probably too fast, “That’s cool. It means that you’re unique.”

She looked up quite pleased and surprised me again by saying, “I know. I like being unique.”

It was then I knew Lanie and I were soul mates.

Another person that I met was Nick Flora. He’s one of the artists, and let me describe him by something he said while telling someone about a joint where he plays, “You know, it’s a totally hipster place. People just go there, drink their lattes, smoke their pipes, grow their pretentious beards.” Yup, that’s Nick for ya.

I think the only other topic worth writing about unless I want to turn this into a book would be the fact that everyone mistakes me for a twenty year old. I don’t get it. I don’t look that old nor do I try to act that old. But if people want to mark me as twenty, who am I to argue with them? It’s only when people ask if I’m married that I set the record straight. Oh, and I also got asked if I was in one of the bands quite a bit.

Anyway, as usual, here is a plethora of pictures of the trip to browse through.

[portfolio_slideshow]

Sammi-antha