I’ve mused about the concept of home in several past entries now and I still can’t seem to come to a conclusive answer. After these last couple of weeks, I’m more confused than ever. I’ve spent the last three weekends away from the Springs, visiting three very different and very distinct places, each of which played an enormous role in shaping who I am, as well as giving direction to my values and beliefs. And even though I didn't go there in the last month, hearing about the riots in London, my temporary home this past spring, brought a deep sense of sadness to me. I’m having trouble writing this. My mind is ablaze with memories and nostalgia. My spirit has been rejuvenated and refreshed, which I’m certain will make the transition into Semester at Sea all the easier. My heart yearns for the past, but is looking forward to the future and the continued roles these places will play as I experience the inevitable paradigm shift(s) that will come from my experiences this fall. I barely slept these last few weeks, as I have tried to squeeze every last drop out of my pilgramige’s to all of my homes. I’m so happy and sad and nostalgic and a whole grab bag of other feelings all at the same time. I’m everywhere and nowhere.
Like the Sound of Music says, let’s start from the very beginning, as it is a very good place to start. You can thank the Drama major in me for that musical shout out. I know my mom will appreciate it, too.
July 22-July 24, 2011 in Aspen, Colorado at my house in the Roaring Fork Valley:
Oh, Aspen. My return here was to briefly see my sister to celebrate her birthday, as well to just get some peace and quiet away from the urban sprawl of Colorado Springs. I have an odd relationship with my mountain hamlet of 6,000 year-round residents and 1 zillion obnoxiously wealthy tourists. On the one hand, it is easily the most economically wealthy place I have ever been, and many of the residents are not afraid to show that off. Prada, Gucci, Bvalgari, and every other designer imaginable have stores planted downtown. I often feel out of place amongst the ultra-rich elite; I’m just a lowly college student with an almost non-existent bank account. On the other hand, it is a postcard. By that I mean it is absolutely gorgeous. The sheer physical beauty of where I live is indescribable. John Denver’s song Rocky Mountain High was written about the Roaring Fork Valley and the incredible surrounding mountains, including Sopris, the Maroon Bells, Castle, and Pyramid. I am one lucky son of a gun to have an address there, found on both my license and voter registration. My friends there are also some of the most down-to-earth people I know, the public transit is top notch, the restaurants are varied and delicious, and the recreational opportunities are endless. It’s hard to complain about Aspen when I can feel absolutely 100% safe walking down a dark back alley at 2 in the morning. Though I get made fun of by my “true Coloradoan” friends for finding solace by retreating into this wonderland of glitz and glamour, pomp and powder, and ski bums and socialites, Aspen has become home over the years and has taught me a lot more than just the value of a dollar and parental gratitude.
July 29-July 31, 2011 in Reston, Virginia at my house in the Washington, D.C. Metropolitan Area:
The 703. NOVA. The DMV. The District. Whatever you want to call it, Northern Virginia is my original stomping ground, and my retreat back to the East Coast was mostly to celebrate my best friend’s birthday, but also to see my other friends before SAS. Like Aspen, I certainly have a love/hate relationship with the place that raised me from cradle to post-high school graduate. One important life lesson I have learned from going to college is that you should never, ever forget your roots. For all the crappy memories I have of high school and many of the horrendously shallow people involved, I have many wonderful moments I can recall in my mind with sincere fondness. At this point, the majority of my life has been spent in the D.C. Metropolis, so how could I go back and not feel something? Truth be told, this time was no different. I hung out with the same folks from high school and talked about the same things I talked about in high school and went to the same places I went to in high school and did the same things I did in high school, sans for a failed attempt to go clubbing in the city (second time that this has happened this year, first being in London, and I really hope this doesn’t happen again). Little has changed, which makes it so comforting, but also somewhat disheartening because I enjoy the challenge of having to adapt to change. It’s weird. Virginia is weird. Virginia is probably the place I call home that I have the most mixed feelings about, so it’s proving to be difficult to write about. Maybe I’ll revisit this later, but for now I’d rather move on to something that will be difficult to write about in a different way, if that makes any sense at all.
August 6-9, 2011 in Estes Park, Colorado at Cheley Colorado Camps:
My summer paradise where I have spent at least some amount of time every year, whether as a camper or alumni, since 2007, Cheley has been the single most important force in my life up to this point. Its power over people has proven to be palpable. And I did not just type that sentence for the alliteration; the people that allow Cheley to become a profound and important aspect of their being reap almost unlimited benefits, ranging from things as simple as coming to appreciate warm water while showering, to developing the most intense and significant bonds of brotherhood and sisterhood that one can make in a lifetime. Its beauty, both physical and beyond, is sublime and profound. With the obvious exception of campers growing up and growing out of their camper years at camp (which became really obvious to me this year since I have been removed for quite some time now), Cheley has remained almost completely unchanged since I first breathed its air and felt its quiet allure some four summers ago. I know my description of it probably sounds extremely hyperbolic, but I mean everything I am saying with the utmost seriousness. Cheley is a constant, a shield, a blessing, a powerful force, an enigma, and so much more. It’s hard for me to describe what I really feel inside of myself about it to people who haven’t experienced it, partially because of their own lack of experience, but also because I still don’t fully know the extent of what it means to me or what lessons it has taught me. One thing I know for sure is that my years with Cheley have instilled in me a sense of adventure, an undying bold spirit that finds pleasure in pushing my own boundaries. Semester at Sea is a response to that, an outlet for my excess energy and the listlessness I have developed over the last several weeks. The Cheley Experience transcends time and place, as the people I have met and encountered there have shown me that no matter how much time we spend away from one another, we will always return to each other. And even if we don’t as soon as we would hope or like, we carry each other and our experiences within ourselves, and for that I will always, always be grateful. Thank you to my amazing, incredible, and life-changing camp friends, Iron Men of Haiyaha and otherwise, for sharing this past weekend with me; it was by far the best I’ve had all year.
So, now what? I’ve just over a week left in my apartment here in the Springs before I move out and go home to Aspen for a few days with my parents before Canada and Embarkation Day. All’s quiet around here, as Summer Session has ended and most of my friends have moved out, only to return when school starts again in September. All I really have left to do is to finish my final paper for class, which has a deadline of September 30th (?), and pack up what’s left of my things, mostly consisting of clothes and books. Colorado Springs, though I have many justifiable grievances with it, is becoming home thanks to its undeniable familiarity and my many astounding friends. When Semester at Sea is drawing to a close, I am certain I will be most excited to return to Colorado College because of my enormous passion for the school and its people. I missed it at least a little bit while I was gone these past three weekends.
I’m beyond glad I took all three of these trips. I have a new found appreciation for the familiar, but also am ready to experience the similar challenges and tribulations that each of these places have thrust upon me while I literally embark on a pursuit of global knowledge and adventure. I’ve also been able to think about my intents behind this upcoming semester. I want to experience life on the edge, life without handlebars or training wheels. I want to throw myself headfirst at every plausible experience I can possibly find and reap each and every reward. I want to feel the highest highs and the lowest lows and grow from both. I want every sense of mine to be overwhelmed and confused and excited and scared and nervous and anxious and pleasured and more. I want to be rattled and shaken down to the densest of my bones and feel my core adapt and shift to the world around me. I want to laugh and cry, hug and kiss, eat and drink, dance and sing, and immerse myself as fully as possible. I want to jump into the deep end, flounder and sink, but float back up to the surface triumphantly. I want to be challenged and feel uncomfortable and disheartened and unsure. I want, by the end of the voyage, to look at myself and my reflection in the never ending ocean and see a different person from the beginning of the voyage because my new self is more of who I am supposed to be in this life than who I am right now. And that, my friends, is what travel should be all about.
Thank you to my homes of Aspen, Virginia, and Cheley, and my newest homes of Colorado College and Colorado Springs for everything you have given me. What I have gained from each will be what I utilize on this voyage as I venture and explore the world before me. In just 13 days, everything I find familiar and comfortable will slowly fade away as I fly to Canada. And in 17 days, when the ship is finally setting sail, all I know will be completely stripped away for the semester, and the journey of a lifetime, a journey of incredible global and personal discovery, will begin.
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