Day one's breakfast and dinner, to be juiced together: 1 lemon, 2 heads of fennel, and 3 green apples

Four hours of the day were spent scouring grocery stores (Trader Joe’s, Whole Foods, and Ralph’s specifically) to find the exact ingredients needed for day one’s meals. I use the word ‘meals’ loosely. Never in my life have I thought that I could consider a blend of green apples, fennel, and a lemon a meal. But, progress goes by many names and I am ready to move forward as a healthier, happier, and overall better human being.

Very quickly, let me share with you a few lessons I learned today:

• Fennel is a vegetable. It is green.
• Scallions are not scallops. They are not located in the fish section of your local supermarket. The can also go by the alias of ‘green onions’. Sneaky.
• No one sells buckwheat noodles. Brown rice noodles will have to do.
• Bok choy is not a famous composer. It is also located in the produce section.
• Tamari is not located in the Indian food section. It is in fact a gluten-free alternative to soy sauce.
• Any plant and/or weed can be turned into a vitamin. Dandelion root, anyone?

One juicer, one blender, an array of vitamins, and many strange food purchases later, I am ready for day one of what will most certainly be one of the greatest challenges of my life: give up coffee, fast food, and many other American joys in order to rejuvenate my body and revitalize my life.

Tomorrow I’ll provide a breakdown of what I purchased along with prices and an image depicting what happens when fennel makes nice with a juicer.

Let the cleaning begin.

After reading through an article in the January edition of Outside Magazine while flying home to Kansas City for the holidays, I was introduced to a full-body cleanse unlike any cleanse I had seen endorsed before. The cleanse is simply called Clean, a “revolutionary program to restore the body’s natural ability to heal itself”.

For a long time I have dealt with a handful of the conditions that Clean claims to cleanse you of, including restless nights, skin conditions, and occasional anxiety. So, it was not a far leap of faith when shortly after reading the article I purchased a copy of Clean and decided that I was going to begin my new year with a refreshed mind and motivated body.

The book meshes together a variety of known cures and natural treatments derived both from common sense and the modern world of medicine. It challenges you to endure three weeks of 2 liquid meals and 1 solid meal a day while providing you with a list of recommended additives (such as 2 spoonfuls of olive oil before bed each night to keep your tubes lubed) and a healthy list of recipes for both solid and liquid meals. Also recommended is meditation to clear the mind and aid in the process of resetting the body.

The cleanse claims to be easily integrated into hectic daily schedules with a result that is potentially life changing. I will test this claim when I kick off my cleanse on Monday, January 3rd, 2011. I am embarking on the three-week program, which will hopefully result in a cleaner, healthier me when January 24th approaches.

I plan to document my experience as I attempt to renew myself. I am  anxious to discover what new gateways exist in a (predominately) toxin-free lifestyle.

If I fail to report back, you may find me sitting in the middle of an aisle at the grocery store inhaling Cheetos and chugging 2% milk.

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For more information about Clean, visit: http://www.cleanprogram.com/

The location itself is a window to the world. The stars arrive in masses while the nights grow loud. Strangers become friends while borders are crossed with each new discussion.  The sun sets with aspirations of rising anew, treating each day as if it may be the only. It is through this window, our vantage point onto the truest world, that we exist as ageless neighbors and lifelong companions, even if only for a moment. Together, we celebrate humanity as it is and as we hope it to always be.

But, what of our other lives? The stressed destinations we so anxiously escape, yet so fervently reach for when we are faced with evolving times. Perhaps we will always reach. But, it is with reaching that we remember those who have allowed us to become the human beings we are and who have allowed us to chase the mission of our hearts.

Alas, there is the great realization – the magnificent collision of your dreams, your past, and your present being. It is the moment we live for – to finally know what we are searching for. Like a puzzle, the debris falls into place, paving a path that guides you by the hand to the next waypoint in the journey that is life. Found is the passion but lost is the innocence. Failure becomes possible and success becomes harder. But we live by the words of our hearts with hopes that the end of the road shall make all ends meet – an end-result that unites humanity and immortality.

So, we search. Search for the understanding of what we are meant to become. I am still searching. I wait for the sunrise that will speak to me: a whisper that will guide my soul. I wait with patience and utmost humility, appreciative of each story and each life that I am able to befriend.

I dabbled in French classes throughout high school and my freshman year in college. So, I was not shocked when the first sentence that came to my mind as I exited through Costa Rican customs in San Jose was “Je ne parle pas Espagnol”. Luckily an airport employee directed me to a taxi stand where I apparently paid the going rate for a Gringo who speaks no Spanish (the taxi rate was $10 more expensive than in any guidebook I had referenced during my trip planning).  But, I smiled and fumbled out a “Merc… Gracias” before loading my things in the cab.

I arrived at the bus station, which services all the busses travelling to and from the Caribbean region in Costa Rica. Since my plane landed around 5:30 AM and my bus did not depart until around 10:00 AM, I would have to wait four more hours before my bus showed up. I pulled up a chair to one of the tables in the lounge area and attempted to finish a half-completed Sudoku puzzle.

On the bus, I was accompanied to the Caribbean region by a host of others. There was a young couple from San Diego. The gentleman had just graduated from San Diego State University (one of my alma-maters). He proudly boasted his season tickets to the San Diego Chargers for about twenty-minutes. There was another group of two girls who were from West Virginia. One of them had lived here for a while as she flawlessly rattled off the names of each small town we passed through. I attempted to listen and absorb with hopes of building my Spanish vocabulary.

And then there was me: the exhausted solo traveler sitting near the front, smelling of layovers and airplane and every so-often my heading collapsing forward as I struggled to stay awake to enjoy the beauty of the lush landscape outside the bus window.

Eventually we arrived at our second-to-last stop and my initial destination, Puerto Viejo de Talamanca. A beautiful town located on the Caribbean Sea and not too far north of the border of Panama.  It was raining as I exited the bus so I graciously accepted the offer of the first Costa Rican who said “Taxi?” I retrieved my 43-pound traveler’s backpack (13 pounds of it being my university textbooks for my online classes) and we drove south through town en route to the hostel where I planned to stay.

I have been staying at Rocking J’s hostel for the past four nights. I picked this location because it boasts cheap accommodation rates and a lively atmosphere, something I thought would ease my transition back into a life abroad. Life at the hostel brings me back to dorm life minus the part about sleeping in a one-person tent for $7 a night. Showers and bathrooms are shared, which means you never know when you’ll find a surprise waiting for you in either the toilet or the shower.

Several meters beyond the hostel gates are the crashing waves of the Caribbean Sea. Small crabs race across the exposed reef as you approach the water and at night you can hear the monkeys in the trees. Each day, except yesterday, has brought with it rains of tropical proportions. Last night, even to local standards, it rained so hard that it seemed as if the sky itself was falling on the tin roof over my tent.

My online classes through Columbia College’s online degree program have started. I am taking Managerial Accounting and Business Communication. Each class requires me to complete assignments throughout the week, which introduces an interesting stipulation in any leg of my upcoming travels. Any destination I seek to discover, I must make sure that there is a stable internet connection in order to complete both my assignments and my work for my online business.

But perhaps my greatest experience thus far has been fulfilling part of my mission on this trip and celebrating humanity by learning the stories of other individuals who have either come to live in or visit Costa Rica. Their stories range from working in the Governor of California’s office to working at the General Motors plant in Michigan. I have detailed, to the best of my memory, what I learned of their stories below in order to give you a better idea of the paths that I have crossed so far in this expedition. Together, we have all been able to share the beauty and memories of Puerto Viejo de Talamanca.

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The Trust Fund Philanthropist

Mike is 50 years old and has lived in Costa Rica for over 10 years. His sources of income have been a Trust Fund and other odd jobs that allow him to help out and give back to the community. A Red Sox fan, Mike is from Cape Cod, Massachusetts and has overtime evolved into a Costa Rican local. He writes for the Costa Rican newspaper, Nacion, and is interested in helping improve healthy habits among the youth in Costa Rica.  Mike owns his own small and humble place and is easily annoyed by Gringos who visit or move to Costa Rica seeking the same standards of living they had in America or Europe. Mike had his appendix removed at a local clinic free of charge. Since they would not accept his money, he instead made a donation to the clinic’s charity.

The Entrepreneur

John moved from California to Costa Rica about nine years ago. He originally came to Costa Rica to fulfill his passion of serving as a white-water rafting guide. Originally he planned to stay in Costa Rica for three months, which turned into six months, which turned into over 10 years. John has become an entrepreneur with his own rafting business and shuttle business between Costa Rican destinations and Bocas del Toro in Panama. John says that his greatest difficulties with running a business in Costa Rica are finding reliable employees, finding good and affordable technological solutions, and the global economy.

The Government Worker & The Artist

Jodi works in the Governor of California’s office. She has handled among other things the public relations operation for the Governor during the California wildfires and President Bush’s visit to the state during that time. She is visiting Costa Rica with her friend Shannon.

Shannon works in a dermatology office and spa. She finished school with a degree in Art and recently sold one of her art pieces during a showing of her work at her university. She met her boyfriend in Costa Rica during a volunteer trip Costa Rica and has returned multiple times since then to visit him.

The Math Major

Spencer graduated with a degree in mathematics from the University of Washington. He has since been traveling and working throughout South and Central American. One of his stories involves his friend getting a chloroformed rag to his face at their hotel in Brazil. While visiting Argentina, Spencer was offered a job as he was preparing to depart. He worked as a bartender in Argentina for several months before continuing his journey.

The Auto Worker

Alex is an autoworker with General Motors in Detroit, Michigan. Originally from Texas, he relocated to Michigan for the job but has since seen first-hand the devastation that the economy has placed upon the auto industry. He is visiting Costa Rica with his girlfriend and her two friends (one of which was already in Costa Rica finishing up her study-abroad trip through Arizona State University).

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I have also visited with the locals via my friends translating my questions. A friend also wrote down some Spanish basics for me to study, so I will be focusing on a select set of vocabulary and grammar over the next week to improve my Spanish from none to little. Or should I say de cero a poco. Eh? But the local people are so truly amazing and kind. I enjoy hearing their stories and will be compiling them to share with you over the next few blogs.

And so, the journey continues. I will be in Central America for a little over three and a half months. So far, the adventure is less than a week old and already I have had the great privilege of meeting so many wonderful people. I look forward to what tomorrow and each day will continue to bring.

Pura Vida.

So, from Terminal A in the Denver International Airport, I would like to share with you this passage and hope you too find whatever it is that you are searching for.

“Some people do not have to search, for they find their niche early in life and rest there seemingly contented and resigned.

At times, I envy them but usually I do not understand them…
And seldom do they understand me.

I am one of those searchers.

There are, I believe, millions of us. We are not unhappy, but neither are we completely content.

We continue to explore ourselves, hoping to understand.

We like to walk along the beach; we are drawn to the ocean, taken by its power and unceasing motion, its mystery and unspeakable beauty.

We like forests, mountains, deserts, hidden rivers, and lovely cities as well. Our sadness is as much a part of our lives as our laughter. We are ambitious only for life itself and for anything beautiful it can provide.

Most of all, we want to love and be loved, to live in a relationship that will not impede our wanderings and prevent our search.

We do not want to prove ourselves to others or compete for love.

This passage is for wanderers, dreamers, and lovers who dare to ask of life everything which is good and beautiful.”

6 hours until Costa Rica.

Much love.

I was born and raised in Kansas City, Missouri, and attended my first year of college at San Diego State University. However, I learned at an early age that I am a follower of the pass less traveled. Since I graduated high school in 2005, I have taken part in humanitarian trips to Egypt and Thailand; lived and worked in northern Uganda for a little over a year; and have worked on a successful presidential and gubernatorial campaign.

In one week, I will be landing in San Jose, Costa Rica. But until then, I would like to share with you a little bit more about myself and how I arrived at this point in my life: a 23-year-old Midwesterner uprooting myself to take my education, my work, and my passion for helping others on the road.

Here’s to the journey ahead.

I. HOW IT BEGAN

I remember the moment when I strayed from the path of normalcy.

I was eighteen and had just returned from a two-week long event hosted by a non-profit organization named People to People International. The event, called Peace Camp, brought together 52 students from 22 different countries in Egypt. It was my first time beyond the borders of the United States and my first time learning how truly naïve I was to the beautiful humility of the world around us.

Back in Kansas City, I sat in a chair in my parents’ kitchen and stared into a blank television screen. I was lost in the fresh memories and friendships that I had grown in Egypt; memories and friendships I had tried to preserve and protect upon my bumpy reentry to reality. I felt a wave of post-adolescent emotion come over me and I realized that Egypt had exposed me to the great unknown of the world around me; an unknown that I would vow to dedicate my life to discovering.

II. THE THAI EXPERIENCE

And so my journey continued. I graduated from high school and three months later, in August of 2005, I found myself on another airplane – this time destined for Thailand. I participated in another People to People International program called the inaugural Thai Cultural & Humanitarian trip. The experience left me with another priceless set of memories and precious list of life lessons.

Several weeks later, I returned from Thailand and began my first year of college. As a life-long resident of the Midwest, I had grown fond of the ocean that I never knew. So, I applied to nine colleges in California with the hope that one of them would see my potential as a human being and moderate student since my standardized test scores weren’t exactly top-tier – more like bottom-middle tier. Ultimately I selected to attend San Diego State University because I felt the school best resembled the diversity and experience that I wanted to enjoy as a student.

III. CALIFORNIA LIVING

My first semester at San Diego State University was the apex of my ongoing university experience. I was honed in and had made the transformation from Midwesterner to ‘bro’. As a brother of the Sigma Phi Epsilon fraternity, I received the Inter-Fraternity Council’s New Member of the Year Award and had discovered my knack for championing weekly Power Hours (one shot of beer every minute for sixty minutes) in the dorms. Meanwhile, my only obligation on Fridays was at noon – and it was surfing class.

I was living what I had thought was my ideal situation.

But it was while serving as the Community Service Chair to the SDSU Residence Hall Association when I discovered a documentary that would forever change my life. There was a great hullabaloo around campus about a documentary that detailed the adventure of three guys who traveled to Uganda, a country in East Africa, and their witnessing of what has been labeled one of the greatest humanitarian atrocities of our time. The documentary was called “Invisible Children” and I was intrigued, without knowing much about any of it. I ventured to their website, clicked, and awaited my copy of the DVD to arrive by mail.

A few days later, I closed the door to my dorm room and slid in the DVD. I watched the documentary with tears. Children killing children, children being forced into the ranks of a rebel army as child soldiers and being forced to murder their own families: A spark had been lit and I was on a mission to share the story with anyone and everyone. It was during this process when I made friends with two individuals who were also supporting the efforts of Invisible Children. We shared a common bond in that we felt that we were not doing enough by holding screenings, posting fliers, and stealing a few minutes at the end of our classes. Within two months, a journey was born, funds were raised, and plane tickets were purchased. We were going to Uganda.

IV. CALIFORNIA AFRICA LIVING

We arrived in Uganda in June of 2006, just a few weeks after having completed my first year of college. We had arrived with the intentions of staying for three months. But as we began volunteering and meeting members of this war-ravaged and poverty-stricken community, we became more and more aware that we would need more time in order to truly get to know the beautiful people of northern Uganda. We extended our trip three more months and we started teaching photography lessons to students at an after-school program. By providing the students with disposable cameras, we enabled them to capture their lives in pictures and to share their photos with the rest of the world through a website. Some of their photos went on to be displayed in galleries in New York City, with proceeds being returned to fund their education.

As our volunteer work with Invisible Children grew more data intensive, I was able to utilize my web development skills and created an internal database that tracked all of the organization’s sponsored students. In October of 2007, I was offered a position with Invisible Children – Uganda, and helped build the technology infrastructure that would assist in enabling the organization to operate at full capacity. I made a phone call home to inform my parents that I would not be home for another six months.

Living in Uganda changed my life. I celebrated my twentieth and twenty-first birthdays on the red dirt roads of northern Uganda. I returned home in August 2007, a little over a year since I had originally arrived in the East African country.

V. LIVING POLITICS & DOING BUSINESS

At this point in time, my self-recommended sabbatical from my education was in full swing and was going on two years. Yet, my experiences throughout 2008 would not provide the best conditions for finding time for school. In February of 2008, I became an active part of Barack Obama’s presidential campaign and ultimately Jay Nixon’s gubernatorial campaign in Missouri.

I worked for President Obama in Texas, Mississippi, and North Carolina before accepting a position on Governor Nixon’s campaign in Missouri. Intent on finishing my education, I relocated to Columbia, Missouri, after Election Day in 2008. I tackled a seventeen-unit semester at the University of Missouri – Columbia while working in the marketing department of the University of Missouri System’s Student and Auxiliary Services division. In addition, I began my own web development business with the mission of developing web applications and websites for small businesses, not-for-profits, and political organizations.

VI. VAGABOND

But, I cannot conceal what I am or the life I aspire to live: a life without borders that is always learning and absorbing the world around it. As I see it, I could sit in classroom and pay thousands of dollars to learn Spanish – or I could immerse myself in a Spanish speaking country for a portion of the cost and life-long memories to accompany it. I am a vagabond, but not without aim. I chose to enroll in Columbia College’s respected online degree program to obtain a degree in International Business because I truly believe that a degree is what you make of it, regardless of where (or by which method) you obtain it. I hope I am right.

My plane departs for Costa Rica on August 5th. I am both excited and uncertain of the road that lies before me. But, perhaps it is best that way. I look forward to sharing with you the adventures that rest ahead.

Pura Vida!

And in the caverns of our hearts,
A battle long lost fights on in vain
Forgetting our progress, forgetting our name.

And in such days as nights proceed,
Indigenous souls unite broken dreams
For which we ever remember our blatant deed.

Always, my religion will be that of the hands of humanity.

For this religion – my religion – I live to better.

Such a trail as the one I am on is nothing short of fascinating. You meet the most eagle-eyed, slick-handed, and get-what-you-pay-for people. But, in between each of those individuals are the genuine people who have reinforced my faith in humanity. The African-American mother in Mississippi who lost her job to the North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA) and since has been working three jobs to provide for her family and, at the same time, trying to achieve an education. The Mexican-American father in South Texas who is finally able to support his family because of the jobs that the very same Agreement has brought to the border region. Lost in the translation of policy, politics, and people, there is a beautiful imperfection in each life that I have been able to get to know over these past fifty-six days. In such imperfection, as we all possess, I have found the opportunity to empower; the opportunity to progress change.

From Kansas City to McAllen to Laredo to Jackson to Hattiesburg to Raleigh to Elizabeth City to Rocky Mount to a small leather seat in Concourse C at Denver International Airport at 12:04 in the morning, I find myself discovering more and more of a movement that I have set out to better understand and to more appropriately embody.

To progress change is much like trying to run in water. You are not going to find any traction until your feet meet the sand that canvasses the bottom of the ocean. And only once you have reached the bottom can you truly begin working, moving your way upward and beyond. In accordance, to progress change, one must surrender his doubt and exchange it for an understanding that achieving utopia is not the goal. In truth, the goal is to give imperfection wings and provide it with the chance to fly, to create a better life for itself and for the people around it. For the people around him. For the people around her.

I now find myself flying wing-to-wing with the very people who have allowed me into their lives over these past fifty-six days. I have seen the tears of a mother in Laredo, Texas, who over the course of three weeks became a leader in her community, baring the knowledge that she was going against the grain. In Mississippi, I canvassed neighborhoods where boarded-up houses reflected the suffering that Hurricane Katrina remained to present in the daily lives of community members; the same community members who rose up and decided that this year, this time, their voices were going to be heard. And in North Carolina, I am witnessing the face of a movement take shape; a face with eyes that will not rest until a hunger for change is satiated and a thirst for hope is quenched. Hand-in-hand, I walk with these people into tomorrow.

Indeed, as I have worded before, we are living in a changing world. Voices are being found. Hopes and dreams are being reclaimed. Power is once again being sought to bring people back together, not to divide us further apart. We are progressing into a wonderful tomorrow that will always be known as that day.

That is a day that I dedicate my life to waking in the morning of.

At twenty-one years old, I am young enough to realize that I will have my hand in selecting approximately 23 presidential candidates in my lifetime. Young, maybe, but I am old enough to realize and cherish an empty void filled and a voiceless heart of a nation that has slowly begun to sing again. Children, parents, and grandparents; whites, blacks, Asians, and Latinos – I, along with countless others, have discovered the lost harmony of America through a medium one would least expect: politics.

Hope is a category of emotions that Barack Obama has empowered me to define for myself. More so, this array of energy that races from my heart to my head encourages me to believe in not just the policies of Barack Obama, but also in his strength which will be required to make truth out of promises and days out of the nights that have long kept this country in the darkness of division.

Tonight, as the snow gradually dusted the nose of Kansas City, a gentleman approached me. A glimpse of a blue ‘Barack 08’ button that I had pinned to the nylon layer of my heavy jacket had caught his eye. He introduced himself as a proud conservative and I immediately began thumbing through the pages of my sub-conscious Barack Obama issue’s book, waiting for my cue to rebut. But it never came. Instead, he told me how hard he had been looking for an Obama pin of his own. I listened as the gentleman told me how he was tired of the division and of the misrepresentation that politics has come to be. He wanted his vote to mean more than just a vote for the expected; he told me he wanted his vote to represent a change in himself and his country, he wanted something unexpected. As he continued down the powdered sidewalk, I turned around and called back to him. I undid my blue ‘Barack 08’ pin and tossed it to him. He replied with a smile and told me his name as he continued walking.

There is a feeling, a flame in my heart that has been ignited by the vision that Barack Obama has for our country. In the shadows of this flame that will soon be history, I can see the remnants of a broken government disconnected from its very voice. But in the light that is cast ahead, there is a sea of gentle hands waiting to catch us from a leap and a choice that is not meant to be easy, waiting to bring us into tomorrow.

Join me in taking this leap into tomorrow by voting for the presidential candidate that you feel will best bring to light our potential as a people and to reality our destiny as a country.

For me, this is Barack Obama.