Bucket
lists. I’ve blogged before that I’ve never been a bucket list kind of person.
Maybe because a bucket list seems like so much pressure. Do this before this
time, complete these things and in the process of trying to check items off a
bucket list you might miss even more exciting experiences. And if I never
verbalized or wrote something down there’s nothing to be disappointed about
right?
In March of
last year I turned 30. Apparently, 30 is supposed to be somewhat significant. I
don’t know where this entrance to a new decade falls in importance when
compared to grander and wiser ages like 40 or 50 or 60 or more, but I think for
society 30 is kind of when we are sort of adults? Like when we are supposed to
do or at least be thinking about doing so called “adult” things like partnering
up with someone, making/raising new humans, buying a
house. And perhaps when the days of lazily sleeping in on weekends recovering
from hangovers (in my case waking up early to run or bike) are supposed to be
over. I’ve passed all the major adult institutional milestones: legal driving,
drinking, smoking, and cheaper insurance but I’m pretty far away from
“accomplishing” the other so called adult things.
I rang in
my 30th twice. Once with my brother and a very small group who
braved the unusually cold temperatures that caused the canals to freeze and a
light dusting of snow to fall in March. My brother complained about having to
bike in this weather and how lame I am to prefer going home to my warm house
and warm bed then suffer through the snow and bitter cold for more partying
after a couple drinks. My second celebration involved an hour to complete an
escape room with my very clever friends, dinner in an old train and a
thoughtful discussion while sipping beers on whether some men might have sperm
that have more x or y chromosomes which might explain why so many families seem
to have a skewed gender balance of children even though the probability of
having a boy or girl baby is almost exactly 50-50 (I since learned this theory
is incorrect). I didn’t feel
particularly different or wiser than I did at 20. I went home both of those
evenings content and with a full heart. Society tells me that I haven’t accomplished
all the usual adult things and that I should avoid or dread each passing year
because they symbolize my youth slipping away. But I felt none of this turning
30.
My most
expensive possession is my racing bike: 380 euros purchased off the Dutch
equivalent of Craig’s list my first year living in the Netherlands. I don’t
have a life partner, mortgage, dog, kid(s) but I do have a retired full
passport and a new one that is quickly filling up. I still enjoy lacing up my
running shoes for solitary (at least since I moved to the Netherlands) runs
wherever I am. I still love the sheer joy of being outside and moving my body,
being in the uplifting and peace inducing presence of mountains or a dense but
quiet forest, or hearing the crashing of waves against the shore. Feeling the
sun or elements on my bare skin and being grateful that I can move and push my
body is something I delight in. I still
love the thrill of being in a new place, whether I speak the language or know
someone there or not. And I still have a very large and special place in my
heart for East Africa: the red dirt, rolling hills of Uganda and Rwanda, the
untouched and unexplored places, and the dear people I’ve met over the years of
many trips and living there. Lately, with each passing year and each new facebook engagement or baby announcement, I have the feeling
that although my life is in constant motion, everyone else around me keeps
moving forward with checking off the adult things while my life stays more or
less the same. But, whether or not I ever check off those traditional adult
experiences off my non-existent bucket list, I have become increasingly
convinced that perhaps life is more about learning to be fully present in each
moment than always rushing off to the next milestone.
The last
year has been quite stable by Rachel standards. I more or less slept in the same
bed under the same address for more than a full year. I invested time in
getting to know the lovely city of Rotterdam that I’ve called my place of
residence for about three years. I made new friends, travelled to new places
but also revisited the old. Most importantly I think, I became more comfortable
(although still with my moments of panic) with the ongoing tension of being
content with where I am and its perpetual uncertainty; and my drive to not live
a life of complacency, doing things only for myself and making no impact on the
world. I’m becoming more adept at deflecting the questions of where I will live
or what I will do after my PhD and more at ease with the fact that I really
cannot answer either of those questions. I’ve realized that in many ways “comfort”
for me IS leading a life full of constant movement and new experiences and
uncertainty, but perhaps learning to invest in community, stay put, and be
stable also has its value.
My 20s were
full of bucket list type experiences. But most that I could have never dreamed
of putting on a bucket list. Rather than
make a bucket list for my 30s, I’d like to just continue living life in the
moment (while still moving towards my goals), making sure that I don’t settle
for comfort over making impact, and complacency over learning. These are the bucket
list moments from my twenties most of which I would have never placed on a
bucket list at the start of my twenties.
- Moving to South Korea to teach English for a year. East Asia, teaching elementary students, and teaching English were pretty far from my radar when starting university. I graduated with a mechanical engineering degree, I always said I wouldn’t teach (likely because my parents are both educators), and I was more interested in Africa than Asia. But South Korea rekindled my love for teaching and was probably the first spark to reminding me I might like to teach at the university level someday.
- Getting lost in the rain in a dug out canoe with my dad on the mystical mountain lake (Lake Bunyonyi) in the lush mountains of western Uganda. My Ugandan English and resistance against my dad’s stubborn insistence that he knew the way got us back to our lodge just before the sun completely disappeared.
- Mountain biking through the bush in Botswana with cows, through game parks and over thorns that could quite possibly be used to stab someone.
- Multiple unexpected visits to a tucked away village nestled in the rainforest in Rwanda to visit my best friend in her electricity and running water less life. Misty mornings with runs through the hilly village surrounded by steep bright green forested slopes, and cooking over a charcoal stove.
- Living in Somaliland for three months, a place I didn’t know existed until I took the job. Driving across desert “roads”, changing a tire in a hijab in the middle of the desert, spending the night in pleasantly cool huts in villages with warm tea and pancakes in the morning thanks to the generous hospitality of strangers, avoiding the police by being “married” to one of my colleagues, and attempting to fast for Ramadan for three weeks.
- Traipsing through Europe with my mom and dad. Discovering all the hipster places and eating my way (mostly with my mom) through Krakow, Poland and Bucharest, Romania.
- Lesotho: smuggling my Turkish friend across the Lesotho border with a new found South African friend who happily drove us across the back roads to discover his hidden cabin nestled on top of a mountain. Swimming in deserted icy mountain rivers tucked in valleys in the mountains in Lesotho and further disrupting the patriarchy by assisting with changing a flat tire on our way back.
- (re)-Trying out surfing and rock climbing. Surfing in Bali, Indonesia, Durban and Cape Town South Africa and Agadir Morocco where I put my more experienced brother to shame. Attempting to become a regular at the climbing gym. Learning to move my body up a wall and feeling my body grow stronger and harder as a result.
- Hiking many, many mountains and to the top of many peaks: the three tallest mountains in South Korea, in Uganda, South Africa many times, Kenya, Colorado, California.
- Cameroon: trekking through Cameroonian villages to pass my greetings to kings and sipping whiskey with a queen. Dancing the night away and waking up too early to catch a bus the next day.
- Vaccinating chickens in western Uganda, helping build a chicken coop and being asked if I was a woman because “where are the breasts?”
- Starting (and closing) my own IT startup in Rwanda with two smart and driven women. Attempting to learn IT jargon, building an app to bring carpooling to East Africa, pitching our idea in Europe and East Africa.
- Running: my first marathon in Seoul, an ultra marathon in Cape Town, South Africa along what must be the most beautiful course in the world, spontaneously running the original marathon course in Athens, and most recently completing the Berlin marathon with 4 months of hard training.
- Couchsurfing: hiking and belly laughing with new friends in Norway on our way to a small mountain cabin, getting advice on running a startup in Rwanda, staying in an old professor’s bachelor pad in Korea to help his university students learn English as they guided us around a city.
- Attempting, then forgetting, then reattempting to learn guitar.
- Meeting the queen (through marriage) of the Netherlands (this was certainly never ever on my bucket list).
- Learning and forgetting languages: Korean, German, French, Swahili, Dutch. Don’t ask me to speak any of these languages.
- Taking the Dutch citizenship test to get permanent residence in a place I never planned to move to, live for six years in, or even stay longer in. But, with the increasing uncertainty in this world, I’m thankful I will soon be privileged enough to always have access to the Dutch labour market and my comfortable biking existence here.
