Fair Trade of Fear for Passion

istoofar — Sun, 1 Apr 2012 04:38:00 GMT

Indonesia was a country I never considered visiting until I met someone from there who became irresitable to me. Thus it became necessary to take a trip and meet her family and make arrangements for our future life together. Traveling to her country transformed me from a reasonable person who would never willfully leave the safety of my comfort zone to an adventurous spirit who seemingly no longer possesses the instinct to avoid risk.

Among the challenges on my list of concerns regarding this initial journey to Indonesia was one item that included a plethora of sub-categories. Danger! In my mind I had actually calculated the astonishing sum of ways that I might realistically lose my life, and the number has not a small one. But fear was not enough to keep me from persuing this girl. With my affection for her dictating my decisions, I was soon on my first of 15 flights in the next 17 days (most affordable option on my limited budget). She had arranged an excitingly busy itinerary for the purpose of introducing me to an equal proportion of culture and adventure in her homeland.

My fiancé and I started our condensed tour of Indonesia at “Kilometer Zero” in Sabang , Sumatra. Her plan was to introduce me to snorkeling, because few locations on Earth can compare to the natural beauty of that place. She was confident that my amazement would overshadow my fear. She was not wrong. Although I was terrified to get out of the boat at first, once I looked under the water, I was a changed person forever!

Upon splashing in and dipping my face beneath surface of an unimaginably clear sea, I was entirely overwhelmed by vistas of biodiversity that fully defied all that I had ever known to be possible. The seafloor was 20 meters below my feet, yet I could see every detail as though I were standing on it. I opened my eyes wider attempting to take in all the beauty. The massive layers of every species of coral, so colorful that they would humble the most elaborate fire works exhibition, were vast beyond description. The fish were ‘flying’ all around my body! Up & down and left & right; every shape, size, and color, and never ceasing their well-choreographed performance. My whole life up until those first ten seconds in the sea now seemed ridiculously small.

Joyfully do I recall the exact moment that my life became meaningful. On August 6^thof 2007, when I accepted the fair trade of fear for passion. That very second was when sharks, snakes, crocodiles, monster (real or imagined), sinking ships, crashed planes, natural disasters of all magnitudes, diseases of every mutation, and even crazed bombers could no longer hold me hostage! Beauty and love had set me free. Now and always there could be no doubt that there is a God, and he obviously wants me to be happy.

My Scholarship entry - Understanding a Culture through Food

istoofar — Sun, 1 Apr 2012 04:35:18 GMT

If an adventurer were to travel to a different island every day in Indonesia, it would take them about 50 years to visit each one. When a country is populated by 237 million people, composed of at least a thousand ethnic groups, who speak no fewer than 700 languages – there can be no denying that it must be an amazing land of culinary promiscuity!

Sadly, the average inhabitant of this foody paradise lacks the resources to indulge in the vast wealth of delectable recipes. Impoverished and marginalized, they earn just enough to eat whatever is affordable on wages too meager to pay for something the tourists patronizingly blog about. I personally encountered such a reality during a 15 hour bus ride in Indonesia last summer.

Halfway through the unbearable journey, the bus made a scheduled stop so the passengers could eat their meal, which was included in the ticket price. Each of us were permitted one pitiful piece of chicken that undoubtedly suffered a life so filled with misery, that it’s best day was probably the day it was sacrificed for our consumption – thereby ending it’s agony. The “rice” resembled something that at one time may have actually been rice, and the soup looked and tasted remarkably similar to salty water.

I write this without smugness. That unpleasant dining experienced humbled me to the degree that I could no longer fully enjoy being seduced by exquisitely presented meals. From that day onward, I noticed a heightened sense of regret for those who could not share exceptional food with me – as I shared brilliantly unpretentious food with them.

By American standards my income classifies me as poor. But compared to most people in the world I am rich. While traveling to my wife’s’ native country, I learned what POOR really is. And I came to understand a culture through food in a manner that is far from glamorous. I’m appreciative for having had the chance to be taught by life, what could never be taught in school.

ranting and musing

Fair Trade of Fear for Passion

My Scholarship entry - Understanding a Culture through Food