Epilogue

284 day of the project,
San Francisco, California

"We shall not cease from our exploration
and at the end of all our exploring
will be to arrive where we started
and to know the place for the first time.”

- T.S. Eliot

I have always loved this passage from "Little Giddings.” It alludes to the resolution of an expedition, whether it is a literal or metaphoric journey. The resolution of the 30th Year Project gave new meaning to those words. Indeed, I see my community—global, local, familial and by extension, myself--through new eyes. On the eve of my 31st birthday, I am reflecting on the experiences that will influence me for the rest of my life.

Full circle with gratitude

Day 183 of the project, 
en route from Los Angeles to Dallas

"Welcome to the United States. The local time in Los Angeles is 7:15am on Sunday, January 4..." The greeting from the Australian-accented flight attendant sounded more like exotic destination than my native soil. I braced myself for re-entry. The holidays in the U.S. wreak havoc upon airports; the combination of so many travelers, weather delays and chronic overbooking creates a unique chaos and can bring out the worst of our national traits. Maybe not warmest embrace from American society.

Holiday laughs in Oz

Day 174 of the project,
Christmas Day in Apollo Bay, Australia

"You're sitting like you're a baller at some fancy hotel. Like this is the Ritz Carlton of Apollo Bay instead of the YHA and you are drinking a vintage champagne instead of quadruple X lager."

Her eyebrow arched and pinky shot out from the gaudy yellow can, posing for a ridiculous Instagram post. It was contagious and within seconds, we were both giggling uncontrollably. Not quite our signature silent hyena laugh, but enough to make my eyes tear up a little. It was a good release after a long meandering day on Australia's Great Ocean Road.

Dreaming in Green

Day 159 of the project,
Auckland, New Zealand

"One....two...three...AHHH!" After wading waist-deep into the glacier fed lake, I finally worked up enough courage to plunge underwater. My fellow walker, a lovely woman from Toulouse, France, had bravely gone first and pronounced it "refreshing." I don't know that I stayed in long enough to describe it as anything but "frigid."

New Zealand is famous for its stunning and diverse landscapes. Fans of The Lord of the Rings movie trilogy know it well (and often travel to tour the Hobbit homes). It is also famous for its series of nine Great Walks scattered throughout the numerous national parks. The Milford Track is one of the most famous of those walks. It is difficult to get a permit, as access is restricted to 40 people per day during high season. Trampers (Kiwi terminology for hikers) walk 33.5 miles over four days, tracing the river from Lake Te Anau through Mackennon Pass, past New Zealand's highest waterfall, Sutherland Falls and ending at Milford Sound.

Foodie report #5: Southeast Asia

Day 153 of the project, 
Te Anua, New Zealand

Gastronomically speaking, I had high expectations for my month in Southeast Asia. The region is famous for its diversity and flavor combinations. San Francisco offers solid access to Asian cuisine (especially Chinese).Yet there are certain things that simply do not cross oceans and can only be experienced in the native environment. I was stoked to see what arrived on my plate.

This post could go on forever, so for the sake of brevity, I have clustered experiences into four categories: fruit, spicy, savory and exotic. Consider yourself warned...do not read this when hungry.

Surface tension

Day 152 of the project, 
Christchurch, NZ

"Why are you going to Singapore?" asked my Thai interviewer, with a touch of disdain in his voice. It was a common question, asked by many who dismiss it as a superficial shopping mall in the heart of rambunctious, gritty Southeast Asia. Singapore lacks fiscal accessibility and offers no real claim to fame to justify the expense. In the mind of most backpackers, it is no more than a stopover.

Yet my curiosity was piqued by this tiny nation and I purposefully added it to my itinerary. Originally a British colony that gained independence in 1965, Singapore is a microcosm of Asia. Ethnic Chinese are the majority, followed by Malay, Indian, Indonesian and Japanese. Not to mention the pinches of Thai, Cambodian and white expats in various corners. To borrow from Americana, it is a "salad bowl" of diversity.

Hanging by a thread

Day 140 of the project,
Koh Lanta, Thailand

"More on your right foot. No, your other right. Now push and REACH for it! Good! Now move your left hand into the hole."

"What hole? There is no....oh wait, there it is."

After two days of sweat, swearing, scrapes and bruises, I was finally getting the hang of it. No pun intended.

One of the goals for the 30th Year Project was to get outside of my comfort zone. Sand boarding and high-altitude hiking aside, I had not really challenged myself physically. With only seven weeks to go, I decided the rock climbing mecca of Railay would be the perfect place to test my limits.

Ghosts of the past

Day 138 of the project, 
Krabi, Thailand

When someone brings up Cambodia, the first image that comes to mind is of the Angkor ruins. And rightfully so, as the sites in Angkor National Park are some of the most stunning in the ancient world. Angkor Wat is the most famous, but each site is distinct. My personal favorite was Banteay Srey. Translated to the Citadel of Women, the intricate carvings and pinkish-brown sandstone are absolutely sublime in the late afternoon sunlight.

However, Cambodia's more recent history is darker; its second claim to fame is genocide. Pol Pot came to power in 1975 with the aim of creating a perfect agrarian society. The Khmer Rouge drove everyone into extreme farming labor. Any intellectual--defined as anything from being a professional to wearing glasses--or opponent was arrested, tortured and killed. His regime was eventually pushed out in 1979 after war with the newly established Socialist Republic of Vietnam. It is worth mentioning the US government (along with the UN) recognized and supported the Khmer Rouge because of its opposition to the Vietnamese.

This darkness is clear in present-day Cambodia. There are over 300 sites of torture or mass graves in the country. In Phnom Penh, the most famous is known as the killing fields. No detail is left out in the audio guide. At the end, a memorial with glass walls reveals the bones of 8,000 people executed on site. The collection grows each year after the annual floods unearth new fragments. The experience is graphic, nauseating, enraging and heart-breaking. It must be seen and heard, though comprehension is virtually impossible.

Foodie report #4 - Southern Africa

Day 120 of the project,
Heathrow airport, England

Aside from bunny chow and pinotage, I had little knowledge about and no expectations for cuisine in Southern Africa. I was not surprised by the high meat consumption but by the obsession of dried meats and jerky. South Africa's colonial legacy and physical location on the Indian trade route could be tasted in the various curries. In contrast, the German influence did not extend as far as anticipated in the Namibian beers. In short, meals were generally high protein and fat and washed down with mediocre light beers. There were some highlights:

Descending the dunes

Day 116 of the project, 
slightly south of the Namibian border, South Africa

Of all the countries on my itinerary, few people knew much about the Republic of Namibia. The country became an independent nation in 1994. It has one of the world's lowest population densities with only 2.1 million people in its vast borders. The economy is heavily dependent on mining, but growth in tourism has prompted the creation of national parks. Namibia has the raw, uncharted ruggedness that appeals to the desert enthusiasts and adventure-seekers and discourages those looking for pampered luxury. In short, this is the sweet spot in time to visit.

My desert adventure began in Swakopmund. A former German colonial town, it straddles the mountains and the coastal sand dunes. The architecture is a mishmash of German chateaus and ugly modern concrete blocks. Several high quality brauhauses lubricate tourists and locals alike. It is a growing mecca for adventure sports ranging from kiteboarding to sand boarding to sky diving. There is little shopping and the main "cultural" activity is a tour of the uranium mine. Everything closes by 4pm with no clear reason why. It is by far one of the oddest places I have been...in the world.

In keeping with weird vibe, I did something out of character: I signed up for a day of sand boarding. It is not that I am out of shape or lazy; climbing the dunes is perfectly fine. But my well-documented lack of coordination and inclination for self-preservation has generally kept me from extreme sports. There was a good chance of injury and a guarantee of humiliation. Yet for some reason (maybe the beer?), I found myself calling Alter Action and signing up for the next morning session.

In the food chain

Day 109 of the project,
Swakopmund, Namibia

It is the amazing the amount of information that can be gathered from a pile of rhinoceros shit. Obviously, you can learn about their diet and digestive process. Rhinos only have one stomach (unlike other large herbivores) and cannot fully process their roughage...meaning the pile of poop actually looks like an explosion of half chewed twigs. Less obvious is that a dominant male will drop in his territory; other males will pass by and drop on the perimeter of his poop, which alerts him about guests in his area. It is like a message board for the rhino community. However, when a female rhino wants to get the male's attention, she will poop directly on top of his pile. Initially this will piss him off, until he realizes who left the message.

However, the most important thing you can learn from the dung is proximity to the animal. So when the pile belongs to the less social and more aggressive black rhino and is relatively fresh, your park rangers on the guided morning walk tend to get a little nervous. A bad encounter between the locals and foreign tourists is not exactly great PR.

In my normal life, I have never taken any interest in rhino shit. These creatures were an abstraction--something seen from the comfort of my living room on National Geographic. I never dreamed I would be in such close physical proximity.

Cheers to the solo ladies

Day 100 of the project, 
somewhere outside Port Elizabeth, South Africa

There can be many challenges in being a single female traveler. Security and acceptance of your solo status are obvious. Other issues are less obvious--when is the last time you had to figure out the word "tampon" in Hungarian? Or tried to explain the necessity of a 15-euro pedicure to a bewildered male bunk mate?

In spite of the nuisances, being a solo female traveler strengthens you beyond measure and opens your heart in a way you never thought possible. And perhaps the best reflection of that openness can be found in the relationships with other women.

Global is the new local

Day 88 of the project,
Tesvikiye neighborhood of Istanbul, Turkey

In the digital age of constant global connectivity, most travelers (myself included) are seeking the "authentic" cultural experience. We want the full sensory overload: the sights (the architecture, shops and museums); the tastes (spicy, sweet, salty, savory, boozy); the heart and soul (language, religion and customs). We want this to be untainted with any of the familiarity of home. And above all, we want to engage with the locals.

In this cosmopolitan place where Europe meets Asia, secular meets religious and old meets new, I expected to easily escape the tourist traps in Istanbul. That is not to say I didn't enjoy the tourist circuit. I spent hours roaming the Istanbul Modern and Pera Museum and staring at the gorgeous tiles and calligraphy inside the mosques. I tried my hand at negotiations inside the bazaars. My stomach certainly engaged with the local cuisine. And my caffeine levels are at an all time high from the copious consumption of Turkish coffee and tea.

Native tongue

Day 78 of the project, 
on the ferry to Dubrovnik, Croatia

An American, an Englishman and an Australian sit in a hostel bar in Vienna, steins of beer in hand. Conversation ranges from travel to music to politics. Especially politics. There is nothing more entertaining than testing an American on his or her knowledge of world affairs. Gentle ribbing aside, their native language allowed the three drinkers to easily exchange and debate ideas well into the early morning hours.

Language is also a reflection of a person's worldview. As with most native English speakers, I enjoy orderly queues, on-time departures, formal education and relative privilege within the globalized 21st century world. Yet my American perspective is often as clear as my accent. It is as simple as wearing pants (not trousers), taking the elevator (not the lift), attending college (not uni or university) and having friends (not mates). It is as complex as not having a current attachment to monarchy or officially sharing a currency with other independent nations.

White noise

Day 76 of the project, 
Vis, Croatia

"Your schedule has been very aggressive, Jenn. It makes me tired listening to it."

"It's not so bad. I see the highlights in every city. It is like the tapas version of Eastern Europe."

"You need to slow down."

Much as I hate to admit it, my German friend was right. For almost three full weeks, I had bounced from capital city to capital city without spending more than three full days in any given location. And while I had seen the major sights in six countries, it was starting to become white noise. The tipping point was when I purposefully avoided the art museum in Budapest...something I would never do in my ordinary traveling life. As a lovely Welsh acquaintance said so eloquently, "You need a vacation from your vacation."

So upon the advice from three different people hailing from three different countries, I chose the coastal delights of Croatia to slow down. I arrived in Split on an overnight train from Ljubljana, ready to fill the prescribed dose of tranquility. As the sun rose over the water, I leaned out the train window and allowed the salty air to fill my lungs. I was ready for some sunshine, bikinis, aquamarine water and beach bars. And unofficially, I was ready to face my new personal reality.

Foodie report #3 - Eastern European capitals

Day 76 of the project, 
Vis, Croatia

In the first two and a half weeks of September, I sprinted through five major cities in Central and Eastern Europe. Each city had its own distinct culture and history along with beautiful collections of castles, palaces, art, gardens and museums. It was simultaneously overwhelming and invigorating to absorb so much in such a short time. But rather than attempt to share every detail of each city (which I believe my Instagram feed does a far more effective job), I am choosing to share the gastronomical highlights.

Sound of music

Day 68 of the project,
on the train somewhere between Budapest and Ljubljana

Vienna, or Wien, as it is actually called in German, brings many superlatives to a traveler's lips. Gorgeous Baroque and Rococo architecture that has been immaculately maintained. Stunning museums that showcase incredible volumes of significant artwork. Delicious foods (hello Wiener schnitzel and sacher tort) in adorable cafes. Beer and wine galore. Opera and choirs in every theater.

However, for this traveler, my memory of Austria is anchored in music. I am not a classical music connoisseur, but there is something magical about the symphony. My timing in Vienna could not have been better; the annual classical music festival at the Grafenegg was coming to a close. The finale was definitely a special performance. Not only was the world-renowned Vienna philharmonic orchestra performing, but the guest conductor was the very famous Venezuelan Gustav Dudamel (on loan from the Los Angeles philharmonic). And the Grafenegg itself was an amazing draw--a beautiful castle with a brand new, state-of-the-art outdoor amphitheater about 40 minutes outside of Vienna. I was shocked it was not sold out.

Philharmonic orchestra just before intermission. Photo courtesy of Cody Christopher

Behind the name

Day 65 of the project, 
somewhere between Bratislava and Budapest

In the United States, Gbur is not a typical last name. Its unusual combination of consonants and lack of vowels trouble the tongues of most English speakers. There is usually the inevitable pause while someone decides how to vocalize those four letters. I am used to it...after all, I have had thirty years of corrections, spelling examples and references to Zsa Zsa and Ava.

But what is in a name? Language? Ethnicity? Geography? Social class? It can be some, all or none of these. Above all, a family name conveys a history. An artifact of those who came before you and the foundations of those who will come after you. Some people are well versed in the background of their names--ties back to castles, crests and pride. Other histories have been buried in the shadows of war, poverty and xenophobia.

Great expectations

Day 59 of the project,
somewhere between Prague and Vienna

To my beautiful San Francisco,

It is me again, your beloved expatriate. On yet another continent, I have met your older brother! Sure, Lisbon is not your official "sibling city" as defined by UNESCO or some other organization. But there are so many similarities. Like you, Lisbon has steep hills with stairs to match and sublime views from various miradoras. The trams and light rail rattle through his streets much like yours. Not to mention a (shorter) version of your Golden Gate Bridge...gleaming in the low light of sunset.

But unlike Valparaiso, my heart was not swayed. Lisbon is like an older, dignified but slightly shabby gentleman with the melancholy of someone who has lost so much. You can hear it in the fado sung in the streets late a night. You can see it in the political graffiti. The streets exude the passion of an empire whose colonial glory days are a distant memory in the harsh limelight of current economic struggles.

My way to St. James

Day 58 of the project, 
Prague, Czech Republic

Each person walks their own camino on the Way of St. James. Though there are definitely some distinct categories. A few dedicated Catholic souls walk the Camino for the original religious ritual. Some people simply want a holiday of walking the countryside. Others are looking for a fitness challenge. Many more are seeking spiritual (though not necessarily religious) guidance or insight. It can be all or none of these reasons.

My camino started as intrigue ten years ago during my study abroad in Alicante. A Spanish friend told me about an ancient pilgrimage route that Christians took to worship the remains of St. James. While it sounded like an adventure, my thoughts at the time were decidedly focused on Italy. Over the years, I've heard snippets from people and the media about the Camino de Santiago. Martin Sheen and Emilio Estevez even made a movie about the Way. But ultimately I decided to undertake the Camino as a way of reconnecting with myself during my six month adventure. So if one wishes to classify my pilgrimage, it was a spiritual journey. A good short summation.