Crossing the Dateline

We set off covered in prayers, humbled by the immensity of this thing we were doing.
Feelings of inadequacy and fear pricked around my consciousness, threatening to undermine the courage given me through your prayers.
But the Holy Spirit was, and is, there, allowing me to recognize those thoughts for what they really are: lies.
I'm learning that I don't have to have it all together to do what God wants me to. He'll do it, whether I'm ready or not.
Ollie Ollie oxen-free! Come find me!
Day 1: 12 hour flight to Beijing. All-night layover. This meant only one thing: EXPLORING! And sleeping... eventually.
We took the subway in to Tianamen Square. Bright lights lit up that giant portrait of Mao Tse-Tung, street vendors flew giant strings of hundreds of tiny kites into the air, stoic guards stood by straighter and stiller than I ever thought humanly possible, and I realized: Toto, we ain't in America anymore.
Even more adventurous: we swept in to a little café for dinner. Of course, the entire menu is in Chinese... so we all attempt to order by pointing at the pictures, guessing what might be in them. We ended up ordering a dish that included one of the coolest and strangest foods I've ever tried: wachao, or ash pepper. The Chinese had to invent a special word just to describe the kind of taste sensation you experience when you eat one of these. At first, you think it might be spicy, but your mouth actually goes cold and sort of numb, then, your mouth begins to vibrate. Not tingle, vibrate. So strange, but so yummy.
And this was only the layover to where we were actually headed: Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia.
Flying over Mongolia is probably one of the most beautiful sights you can see out of an airplane window. The hills are so incredibly green, and scattered throughout are little houses with brightly colored roofs. The city itself is peppered with mud puddles from the wet climate, and the brightly colored roofs intermingle with multiple construction projects and insane traffic jams... By insane, I don't mean massive... I mean that driving here is an insane affair. The only rule is that there are no rules. People create their own lanes out of the non existent shoulder or from the middle of the road... People sneak around the other cars with only inches to spare, signaling their presence by honking, not blinkers... And the potholes are so massive that driving down the highway feels like being on Indiana Jones at Disneyland.
Again, Toto, we ain't in America anymore.
Today, though, provided me with a very different challenge: teaching English as a foreign language for the first time. No instructions, just two partners, a classroom, and a vague idea that we were supposed to assess conversation skills. Allrighty then.
This, by the grace of God, turned out to be anything but a disaster. We asked various questions, asking for participation, getting more and more confident as time went on. We learned more about how Mongolians and others who live here live their lives, and what their dreams are.
I have great hope for the rest of the week.
After teaching in the morning, we have classes in the afternoon. We're getting background on the history, language, and folklore of Mongolia. Cyrillic makes my head hurt! But I'm still a fan of these classes (Mongols! Yay! :) )

Thank you all for your prayers and love. I miss you all, and wish you could all be here with me!
I'll keep telling you stories when I can, kay? :)

Your friendly neighborhood aethernaut,
~M~

Adventuring Again

Well, hello again.
It's time to put this blog through its paces again. It's time to rev up its engines and set it going.
I'm headed off on another adventure, and this time it's a doozy... as if my last one wasn't!
Check out this page to see what I mean:
http://blogs.cui.edu/atw/
(You can find my sendoff video under my name in the "Travellers" tab.)

I'll be updating you when I can here on outplanet-aether and on my TripColor (which, if you have an iPhone, you can join for free and follow me there): http://www.tripcolor.com/user/38095 You can also take a peek at my Twitter feed, over there on the right.

Allrighty then. Cheerio, chums. Prayers, thoughts, and well-wishes are much appreciated. I'll miss you friends back in the states, and I'm looking forward to being with you, new friends, around the world!

LAUNCH DATE: August 5, 2012. LAUNCH PREPARATIONS IN PROGRESS. ALL SYSTEMS ARE CLEAR FOR TAKEOFF.

Your friendly neighborhood aethernaut,
~M~

The Solar System

The Solar System by outplanet-aether on polyvore.com

her secret

Paris is an introvert.
She's that cousin you only see on holidays; the one who stands in the corner (wrapped in a massive scarf) with her wine glass and says no more than two words at a time.
Usually, the words are: "Oh, yes, I know about that." ("Ah, je le connaîs.")
She seems to know everything about every subject, but when pursued, a twinkle comes in her eye, like she's keeping a massive and beautiful secret, and she says no more.
"What is your secret? What IS it about you?" I have asked, many times. For three months, her reply has only been the twinkle.

But, this time, she winked, as to a confidante.

So what IS it about Paris?

... Sorry, I can't tell you. It's a secret. =)


~M~

métro zen

Salut mes amis! Ça va?

I ADORE taking the métro here in Paris. Yes, it's true. Everyone thinks I'm crazy. What's my secret?
Here, for your pleasure: "How To Achieve Zen On The Métro." =D

Step One: Know where you're going. That one's a given. If you have to stop to analyze the signs, you're going to disturb the zen.
Step Two: Get that Parisian pedestrian face on and traipse down those stairs like they aren't even there. Secretly congratulate yourself once you get to the bottom for not tripping and falling on your face.
Step Three: Keep your Navigo pass in a place where you don't have to fish it out to use it. Just put your whole bag on the sensor, let that little green light beep, and breeze straight through the gate without stopping. Again, secretly congratulate yourself.
Step Four: Look at all those people waiting for the next train! But don't panic! Calmly find the optimal position. It's usually down at the end of the platform; no one wants to walk all that way! Then, get as close to the track as it is safe and possible to be. If the whole track is lined with people, second best is right behind a snappy businessman. He is going to do everything possible to get on that next train, and will serve as an excellent "battering ram" for you.
Step Five: If you're close enough, enjoy the rush of sudden wind that the train will generate when it pulls up. Imagine you're in one of those old movies with the steam trains pulling up in the fog.
Step Six: Board the train. If it is REALLY crowded, this is harder than it sounds. Look for the open spaces, and know the magic word "Pardon!" Try to get yourself as far back into the car as you can, so that the people behind you won't push you. If you can, try to maneuver yourself into one of the optimal positions. An optimal position is anywhere that has a wall or folding chair behind you (and the back door counts as a wall; it never opens). Best of all is the chair right next to the door. Why are these best? If it is extremely crowded, you will not have to move when others disembark (and the closer you are to the door, the less you will have to push through people to disembark).
Step Seven: Have headphones on and let your music meld with the sounds of the métro. Quel musique? I'm glad you asked. You don't want true zen music, or you risk going to sleep. Nor do you want something too harsh. The point isn't to ESCAPE the métro by focusing on the music, but to find that place where the whole métro BECOMES the music. I usually pick something semi-repetitive with a defined dance beat. Like these:
http://youtu.be/gUzQtSLu_zI
http://youtu.be/TLqICjQRmC8
And if you're in a hurry, just increase the tempo a little bit, and you can still keep your zen: http://youtu.be/NoAtnJoSNHQ
While listening, notice how the periodic bleat of the "door closing" alarm perfectly fits the beat of the song you're listening to, or how the car ahead of you bumps up and down like a careening time machine, or how that harsh curve caused the lights to flicker like you're in the Twilight Zone, or how the reflections in the windows look like Impressionistic art. Find beauty in something. Pretend you're in a music video or a moving painting.
Step Eight: Exit the métro. Again, know the magic word "Pardon!" If you're at the far back corner of the car, make sure you start positioning yourself to leave before the train stops. Often, the people in front of you will notice and move before you even speak. (And, make sure you do this for others too! Watch for people who suddenly pick up their belongings, start intently peering over people's heads, or even just stand up a little straighter. With practice, the subtlest motions to leave can be easily noticed.)
Step Nine: Breeze through those hallways, seeking all the open spaces. Get up those stairs two by two. They are not the boss of you! Walk up escalators, if there are any. 'Force push' those automatic sorties open! Just let your legs carry you onward and upward, like that urban Tarzan you are!
Step Ten: Emerge into the sunlight with a contented sigh. Breathe in that crisp clear air. Let your face balloon into a gleeful smile. (Then quickly wipe it off and put that Parisian pedestrian face back on!)

There you have it. That's how I use the métro every day! How do YOU achieve zen in the mundane moments of your life?

Your friend, the aethernaut,
~M~

little joys

Joined Polyvore =) Here's one of the aesthetics of Paris:

Parisienne Postcard by outplanet-aether featuring a cut out mini dress

I'm making a list of the little joys I'm discovering while in Paris.

On the Métro...
#1. Swinging aboard like an urban Tarzan right as the doors are about to close.
#2. Finding that ONE station where that whole crowd around you decides to get off.
#3. Pretending to "force push" the automatic 'sorties' open.
#4. When you know the route so well that you don't have to look for the signs anymore... and can keep reading G.K. Chesterton instead.
#5. Letting the sounds of the rails on the tracks merge with the Kraftwerk music playing through your earphones.
#6. Finishing that one last level of "Cut the Rope" with a magnificent flick of your fingers WHILE exiting at the correct stop.
#7. That gypsy accordion player at the far end of your car.
#8. Watching the car ahead of you bump up and down like a prototype time machine.
#9. When the train makes such a sharp turn that the lights start to flicker as if you've veered into the Twilight Zone.

Being there...
#1. When your iPod automatically shuffles to JUST THE RIGHT SONG for that spot you're in.
#2. Getting to an appointment late, then realizing, "OH! I forgot... that meeting was actually TOMORROW!"
#3. When you find that perfect view (or picture) completely by accident.
#4. The day you realize that the hot chocolate in the vending machine is only 30 cents.
#5. Walking past a boulangerie early enough in the morning to smell the bread baking.
#6. Singing in French... and realizing you know the song!
#7. Walking by a church just as the bells chime.
#8. Walking into a huge cathedral like Notre Dame right as Mass is starting.
#9. Enjoying an omelette at a café... then noticing that some tourist is taking a picture of the café you're sitting at.
#10. Realizing that Montmartre is just as nice with tourists as without.
#11. Learning a new word without looking it up in the dictionary... and using it correctly!

But you don't have to be in Paris to make a list of "little joys!" What are some of the little joys in YOUR life right now? =)

Your friendly corresponding aethernaut,
M

enfant de la moyen âge

I took a long journey to get here. Kind of like acclimatizing to get to the top of Everest.
Base Camp: London, England. Oh, how I love that town. It's in constant motion, yet is constantly still, like a little star that manages to shimmer in the same place while zipping by at hundreds of thousands of miles per hour. "Mind the gap," but "keep calm and carry on." Though the sky is covered in clouds, all the Londoners sit in the sun.
A bit higher up the mountain: Brussels, Belgium. A bit protective; it's in motion behind closed doors, like a clock pendulum behind glass. But find the sweet spot, and you'll hear the most joyous singing and boisterous laughter, even at the most absurd things. It's no wonder the national symbol is a statue of a little boy peeing. It's overflowing with the old, traditional things, so it strives to be brand-new, but so far, the old is what's staying, with both beautiful results and difficult ones.

Which brings me to my new home for the next couple of months: Paris, France.

A city throbbing to the beat of the new and now, it's a perfect picture of the 21st century. But the monuments of the past still loom large, bringing color to every part of the city. It's a hundred-year-old teenager, with a half-forgotten scapular around its neck and an iPhone pressed to its ear. When I'm here, I'm a time-traveler from the Middle Ages: culturally inept and awkward, half-speaking the same language, full of an instinct to explore, quite young yet positively ancient.

"AND... loving it." =)