Who Am I?

As my adventures draw to a close, the same ever present question remains at the forefront of my mind: Have I accomplished what I'd set out to do? For the first time since I began, I flipped back to the begginning pages of this Epic Journey, and read the opening chapter, "What To Look For." What have I found? In these 3 months, what have I discovered which I can take back with me to California? The question of who I am still alludes me. I'm not sure I'm all that much closer to discovering it now, than I was when I left. I have, however answered a lot of questions about what I believe, and what kind of person I mean to be.

I wanted to be someone who could live up to a challege. I wanted to be honest with myself about even the deepest and toughest issues weighing on my soul. I wanted to be one who sees good in all people, and to be shown that love does tangably exsist. I wanted to gain firsthand knowledge of places I'd otherwise not have seen. I wanted to make an impact on people, and leave my footprints in the sand. I wanted to choose to climb, knowing the cost, and suffer my own mistakes. If I can look back and say I've accomplished these tasks. If I can say of myself that I didn't take the easy way out. If I can see that I held myself together when all hope seemed lost, then I can hold myself high with honor and look at myself in the mirror at last. I'm proud of a lot of things I've done during these 3 months. Though I screwed up several times, I was never looking to pack up and go home. 3 months does not seem long enough to find one's self. If I'd had a choice I would have stayed longer. In the midst of this journey, I've discovered a new passion. In fighting to survive out here on my own, I forgot about the cares and worries of my former life, and all the drama which seemed to saturate it. For a time out here in the chaos of the world, I had goals again. There was purpose pushing me forward, and a need to stay alive. I felt companionship with God, and he seemed to follow me, watching over me as I walked. It's a feeling I can't describe exept to say, It all just felt right, as if God had laid the path for me to walk before I'd even gotten there. He held my hand, and I heard his voice in my head. Though even now, the voice is draining out like water. I fear it will be gone soon, but I know he's still there because I can still feel that presence.

I'm not as I was when I left, but I'm not quite as different as I sometimes think I should be, so who am I? What am I?

I'm a son; I'm a brother; I'm a friend and cousin; I'm a nephew and grandson; I'm a human; I'm a heart patient; I'm a musician and traveler; I'm a writer and singer; I'm an actor and director; I'm a sound engineer; I'm a poet; I'm an amature photographer; I'm a student and philosopher; I'm a Christian; I'm a critic; I'm a man. I drank Guiness in Dublin, and bought a fiddle in Belfast. I've climbed a castle in Scotland, and crossed the London Bridge. I've stood on the Pyramids of Egypt, and desecrated the tomb of a pharoh. I've ridden a Camel through the desert. I've been lost in the Sahara. I've stayed in the home of a Jordanian muslim, and in the morning was served breakfast by his children. I wept at the feet of Jesus on the hill of Golgotha. I sat in prayer in his tomb on Easter Sunday, and left my blood, sweat and tears in the sand. I met a christian family in Bethlehem, and knelt before the manger at the Nativity. I've witness the aftermath of revolution in Cyprus, and the first stages of peace in Nicosia. I felt the stones of the Greecian collumns on the Acropolis. I talked politics with a sailor in Aegina, and shared a round of beers with his comrads. I've had pizza in Naples, and walked the streets of Pompei in the rain. I've climbed the steps of the Colosseum, and smelled the paint of the Sistine Chapel. I spent a full day in solitude within the forests of Tuscany. I've seen the full moon rise from a canal in Venice. I've slept in the same room next to a sweet old, half crazed Croatian lady, and avoided her poisonous cooking. I've been drunk in Budapest. I've walked through the gardens of Vienna. I've been clubbing in Prague. I've hiked up the hills of Salzburg. I've felt the cold of the Swiss snow, and stared in awe at the majestic Matterhorn. I've been wine tasting in Alsace, and explored the WWI trenches. I sat on a beach in the French Riviera. I got mugged after a party in Barcelona. I've seen famous works of art in Madrid, and warded off cougars in Portugal. I've scaled the wall of a Spanish fort in San Sebastian, and shared a kiss in Paris. I've hung out with Bohemians, and stormed the beaches of Normandy. I've seen the redlight district in Amsterdam, and stood on the site of the Berlin Wall. I kept on walking when my legs couldn't carry me, and if I make it home, I'll have witnessed a miracle.

I believe Aaron was right when he told me this was only a scouting trip; that I'd be back soon with more purpose and more questions that need answers. Inside my heart still thirsts, more than ever, for the adventures to come. I've shared my heart as openly as I could these 3 months, and recorded my thoughts within these pages. My hope is that you read it, and know me as I grow. I intended to leave no stone unturned, and lay my whole life out there for all to see. Only through openly and honestly expressing who I really am, can I hope to fix what is broken and find what is lost.

In begginning this journey, I was running away from several things I didn't feel ready to deal with in my life. I felt like I was drowning in monotony, and everyone was slowly passing me by. The shrill laughter of the happiness I felt I could never achieve, echoed in my ears at night. I wanted to be someone else entirely. I was afraid of who I was becomming. But, "Those who fly from their fear often find that they only take a shortcut to meet it"-JRR Tolkien. I met my fear in my solitude and hardships, as I carried my problems with me on my journey. They weighed on my back like a hundred traveler's packs, and I struggled so hard to leave them in the dust of my Epic Quest. However, so many of them had already burrowed themselves into my skin. I pulled at them, and dug them out of my eyes, leaving wounds that were nurtured by the love of strangers. I still carry wounds, but my outlook has changed, and there's hope that they may not be as deep as they were before. I've learned that wisdom can only come from failure, and that love is far more prominent in this world than hate. Good people are not outnumbered, but they often feel like their alone. There's a reason for lonliness, it brings us together, and that's the way we were meant to live. For 3 months, I sat as a spectator of life and watched the world turn. What I saw has filled my eyes with hope, and my heart with wonder. The lessons I've learned will stand firm in my memory for all the rest of my days.

I've seen so many things. My senses have not left me wanting. No person will ever seen what my eyes have seen, nor feel what my hands have touched. No one will hear the sounds my ears have heard or taste what my tougue has tasted. Even those who have stood where I've stood, and walked where I've walked, will never have seen what I saw. This experience of life has been mine alone, and that fills me with the truest sense of pride and joy.

Although this experience has been one which I will always remember, I do very much miss those whom I left back home. In the end it was my friends and family who showed me who I really am. You all encouraged me, lifted me up when I felt tired and weary, and pointed out the way onward. My communication with you through comments and emails was fresh air and water to my soul. I often wonder when I get back, if you'll see something different in me. I've looked for it many times myself, but I remember back to that night in Jerusalem, sitting out on the balcony looking up at the stars. Eric was sitting on the next balcony to my left. I asked him if he thought he'd changed during his travels, and he told me, "You'll never know how you've changed until you see it in the faces of the people you love. Change isn't something you can see in yourself, but others will see it in you." There's a quote from that movie I watched with Andrea in Cyprus, "A Touch Of Spice." It stuck out to me immediately, but I wasn't really sure what it meant until just recently. "There are two types of travelers in this world: those who look at a map, and those who look at a mirror. The ones who look at a map are leaving; and the ones who look at a mirror are coming home." As I stand here staring at my face in the mirror, for the first time, I'm proud of the man looking back. I see in his eyes a journey, which brought him closer to the man that he desires to be. I look in the mirror, and I see in my face a man who is finally ready to come home.

Solo in Berlin/Denis' Birthday 5/29 5/30/08

I woke up on the morning of the 29th earlier than the previous day. Both Nancy and Denis had things they had to do today, so I was mostly on my own. There was a massive heat wave which swept Sahara winds into Berlin, so outside it felt an awful lot like the middle east again. There was that same dry wind and dust that reaches every crevass just by entering out into it. For the early part of the day I stayed inside and caught up on blogs. It was nice and cool inside Nancy and Denis' apartment, and it felt nice just to relax and take it easy here at the end of my journey. This blistering heat would have probably been terrible had I still been in the midst of traveling, but now life was pretty easy, and water and shade was plentiful. Later however, I did venture out into the city.

I took the metro out to the new city center, over by the Sony Center and walked around a bit. This is the time I took the majority of my pictures. I sauntered through the area, for the first time, hanging out like I was on vacation. It was a strange feeling to not have any major obstacles to face, or routes to plan. I wasn't trying to see anything in particular, because I'd seen what I wanted to see already. From the new center, I walked through East Berlin and the old East center. I passed by several gypsys on the way over. They seem to be all over, here in Berlin esecially. I'm not quite sure why. It seems very sad, because they are a poor people, and oppressed. However, you really can't trust them because they will steal everything you've got if you even get close to them. They walk around holding their children in you face, and asking if you speak English. I used to stop and just say "I'm sorry, I can't help," but now I don't even answer. I pretend I don't speak English and just wave them off. I feel terrible doing it, but it wouldn't help anything for me to get completely cleaned out trying to help them.

After crossing through East Berlin, I followed the wall over to Checkpoint Charlie. I spent some time there, reading all the captions and signs. I walked through the museum, which was indeed very interesting. I read about the different methods East Berliners used to escape to the West, and saw their inventions on display. Several pattents came out of the engenious designs which aided in their escape. The first minisub was invented to help the inventor swim accross the border undetected. Some people specially refitted their cars with smuggling compartments, to smuggle friends and loved ones across the border. One guy smuggled his girlfriend between two surfboards hollowed out and strapped to the roof of the car. It was amazing to see the things people came up with.

The next day was Denis' Birthday, so all 3 of us worked all morning, trying to get the house spick and span. Nancy baked a big beautiful cake, and Denis cooked the meal. I helped stir some things, and slice veggies for the salad. Of course, when company arrived they gave me far more credit than I deserved, saying I helped make dinner. It was such a fun experience, because I got to meet a lot of Denis' family who were all original Berliners. Most of the night, particularly in the begginning, everyone spoke in German so I just smiled and stayed quiet on the couch. As the night went on and the family started getting aclimated to my presence, more people started to approach me and start up conversations with me. Most of Denis's family, save for his grandmother and her boyfriend, could speak some English. However, when they would talk to eachother, or decided not to for one reason or another, Nancy stepped in as my official interpretor. I got to hear some stories from Denis' father about how he and Denis' grandmother escaped East Berlin. It was perfect to go with my visit to Checkpoint Charlie the day before. Denis' father was full of good stories. I especially like the one where for a while in his younger years, he dated in secret, one of the top officials of the Communist Party. Denis, Nancy, the whole family and I talked and laughed for hours. By the end of the night, I was so stuffed I could barely moove, and I was so tired that I fell asleep just as soon as my head hit the pillow. What a wonderful way to end an Epic Journey.

Local Berlin 5/28/08

I awoke to the sound of Nancy opening the window in the living room. I asked her what time it was. "It's almost noon," she replied looking at her watch, "You slept like a hybernating bear last night." It was so nice to just sleep. I hadn't gotten a lot of sleep the last ouple days, so I suppose as soon as I was finally able to, I just totally rebooted. I felt great though, after getting up. I felt a new swarm of energy fall over by whole body in waves. I felt rested. I joined Nancy in the kitchen for breakfast (well, lunch for her). I had a bowl of this new cereal I've never heard of before which had corn flakes, oats, and bits of chocolate mixed all in together, and it tasted amazing. Everything felt better, the food tasted better, even the weather outside was clear and sunny. It was the start of a wonderful day.

When I'd gotten myself ready, Nancy took me out into the city to go exploring. We travelled by metro into the main center and began walking around through the different parts. We passed by some of the things Denis and I rode passed on our bike ride (which I was still a little sore from), but I got a little more detailed tour of it all this time around. We found the Holocaust Memorial site, and walked through the museum and visitor's center underneath the memorial. The grounds of the memorial are made up of thousands of rectangular blocks of stone. They're varied at different hights, and they allow you to walk through this vast jungle of blocks which becomes more of a maze the further in you go. Niether Nancy nor I could really figure out the symbolizm that the stone blocks represent, but it was interesting that the further in, the ground begins to slope downward and the blocks get higher and higher. Then at the very bottom, buried by the massive stone pillars is the visitor's center. All along the blocks, you see kids hanging out and having picknics sitting up ontop of them. You're not suppose to do that, and they have actual hired security to walk around and tell people not to, but it does seem to me like they should have expected something like that in the designs for the memorial. If you fill a huge area of land with huge stone blocks, and allow people to walk through them, odds are that people will want to sit and climb on them.

Inside the visitor's center were halls you could walk through which were lined with plaques forming a timeline of the beginning of the atrocities, starting in 1939 and ending in 1945. It was a very sollumn sort of walk as you tread through pictures, and recovered letters from victims often executed the next day. In one room they have on display, a history of particular families from all over Europe who were all but desimated by the genocide of the jews. One jewish man in Jerusalem, worked for years (and is still working) trying to collect the history, and stories from all the 6 million jews which were murdered during the holocaust, and they have a database at the end of the center where you can look up any particular individual and read about them, and what happened to them. It was definately eye opening, and quite a sight to see in the midst of Berlin.

Berlin is certainly one of those places which you can tell right away is carrying a lot of guilt and remorse for things done in the past. I talked with nancy a little bit about that, and she agreed with me and told me that it seems to be that way with prettymuch all of Germany. People in Germany don't call themselves Germans. There's no pride for their country anymore. Instead they put their pride in the town that they're from. Here in Berlin they call themselves Berliners, and in Neuemberg they'd call themselves Neumbergers and so on. It's a whole country walking on eggshells, living in daily rememberance of the shame certain individuals brought onto their country time and time again. Because of that, the new government seems to have even overcompensated in making sure none of the same mistakes are revisited. The German government now has both a president and a cancellor who make every dicision together, and either one of them can be voted out of office at anytime by a majority vote of the people. Germany is one of the leading countries of the whole "Green movement" to protect the environment. They've set strict regulations for car manufacturers on the amount of carbons allowed to be exhausted into the atmosphere by the engine. Any car which does not meet their requirements cannot be sold or driven within the city. There are strict laws in advertising making sure the people are not seduced or mislead in anyway. It's become illegal to have any kind of propoganda urging people toward your cause without presenting fact-based arguements. The Nazi party has all but disappeared (or at least reformed themselves. They're now called something completely different). It's illegal to be a part of any Nazi group, or KKK, basically any group which hates another. Rallys and meetings for these groups are not allowed at all in Berlin. They have a Social Democracy in Germany now, similar to Canada which seems to be working out pretty well for them. I've actually become a pretty big supporter of Social Democracy since my travels to Europe. It seems to me to be the most sure way to ensure that everyone gets what they need. It's a lot more beurocratic, and it takes a lot longer to get things approved especially regarding controversial subjects where the lines are split pretty evenly, but that system seems less driven by money and power, and more by integrity and mutual understanding.

When we'd seen some more of the sights of Berlin, I followed Nancy around to do some shopping to restock the kitchen with food. Friday night was Denis' birthday, and they'd planned to have the whole family over for dinner. They needed a lot of food to feed this huge party of relatives whom I've been told are a big crowd of loud, and loving individuals. It seemed like a lot of fun and reminded me of how I describe my family at parties, so I did what I could to help them prepare. We walked over through a couple supermarkets, and a giant mall where, on the top floor, we saw a giant bell (almost as tall as I am) made entirely of solid chocolate. We also picked up a bunch of meat for dinner tonight, so that they could show me how Berliners barbecue their sausage. They don't have shopping bags in Germany, so you have to bring your own from home, or other wise carry everything home yourself. The both of us carried back arms full of groceries onto the subway as we attempted to haul everything back to the apartment.

For dinner, the 3 of us had a feast of German sausages barbecued over a tiny electric grill on their balcony. Nancy, trying to buy some particular sausage that Denis really liked, accidently bought Elk sausage. We deliberated over eating it, wondering what it would taste like, but when we finally tried it we ended up liking it a lot. Denis introduced me to this totally amazing spicy mustard, which was maybe the highlight of the meal for me. It was so spicy it made your eyes water, but had a taste so full and sweet that you couldn't stop eating it. It was to die for, and it came in a tube like toothpaste. I hope to one day return to Berlin with a huge sack and smuggle a whole bunch back with me.

Our conversation by the end of the night turned, once again to sex. I don't know why conversations with young people always head in that direction, but I think the way it started was that I was curious about what their parents thought of them living together without being married. They looked at me like they knew this question was going to come up at some point, me being an american from the suburbs of California. Nancy, being from California herself, lead the discussion with me about what the differences are between the way this arrangement is looked at from back home, and how it looks from here. In Germany, a couple doesn't normally start thinking about marraige until long after the two have been living together. To us back home, that's sort of a new-age sexual revolution sort of thing, and we often call it "living in sin" (some more jokingly than others). However, to Germans (and most other cultures in Europe it seems) it's been that way for ever and ever. They strongly believe that who a person is sexually is a very importaint part of who they are in every other way. When young children in Germany are taught about the birds and the bees, they're taught that living together is part of finding out about the person you're going to be with the rest of your life, and when they look for compatability, sexual compatability is just as importaint as everything else. The talk continued, and Nancy told me about when she met Denis, and at one point told him she was planning to wait until marraige to have sex. Denis looked at her with bewilderment in his eyes, and very confused he said "...why?" She remembered, she had a really hard time coming up with an answer. Why exactly do we wait? I know the easy answers: Because it's what God said to do; because it makes the experience more meaningful; because it connects you more closely as a couple giving yourself fully to the one you'll be with forever. But if you really look into most of those questions, I think you find that the answer really boils down to: That's what we were culturally taught. Our devorce rate is sickeningly high in the US, particularly among christians who wait till marraige to have sex, so the answer is definately not that it draws you closer as a couple. A lot of people get married in the US so that they don't feel bad about having sex. Is that a little silly to anyone else? I don't know, I'm speaking with a bias because I too have felt so pressured NOT to have sex, because I'm so worried about the relationships I may hurt with the people who want me to wait. I'm not saying either that I don't want to wait. Rushing into something like that, cultural or not is never a good idea and I know that very well. Also, religiously, faithfully if that is what God told his followers to do (and I still have a hard time believing that to be true), I know Paul said it and several other men of God professing the truth, but if that is God's will then there is good reason to heed it. I have trouble matching up everything we, as christians, beleive regarding sex though, often due to the amount of times the rules have bent or changed due to the times and curltures that mix. I've never known God to request his people to act against their instincts. Acting against impulses, yes. Fleeting urges, and reactions of fear or anger have their roots in sin. However insticts, specifically designed human traits have always up to this particular topic, been regarded as favorable in the Lord's eyes. This brings me back to intentions. Intentions, I believe are what matter in the eyes of God. Where a person's heart lies in an action is what makes a deed holy or sinful. Those who mean to decieve or take advantage are not doing the right thing. Whereas those who are pure in intention, genuine and honest are blessed. What's left is what is judged by the culture you're a part of. Even a close friend cannot always know your heart, so rules were made to encompass a wide variety of sins, and protect the majority. These rules don't always apply, and can often work as a hinderance to those who are just having trouble finding their place in society. These frustrated people are usually the ones who rebel against the system, and then the system changes again.

In my experience with cultures, the good parts of human nature: Love, compassion, generocity, understanding; are the ones which hold standard throughout different groups of people. The bad ones: Lust, greed, hate; vary dramatically between cultures depending on what is learned and acceptable in a society. When people are taught that something they greatly value (most often something which is ok in a different culture) is "bad", they are more inclined to give into hating those who have what they want. Then they teach their children that those other people are "bad" people because they indulge in an act which is forbidden to you by the ones you care about. Never have I seen a culture of murderers, or of theives or liers. I've seen countries who's moral fiber is intact, but who look at things very differently. I've seen countries where a woman can't show her face because it's sexually immoral, and then another country where buying prostitutes from windows off the street it totally acceptable. So where do you draw the line, really? Who's to say what's right and wrong, especially regarding sex? What does God say about that? Paul is not God, and neither am I. Paul and I are on the same level as human beings and followers of christ. In any case the verdict over here, in my experience seems to be that the rules of sex are much more cultural than religious or anything else. That may not be a fact, but that's the view from my biased standpoint.

The ending conclusion to our conversation left me with the first relieving feeling I've ever had in regards to that topic. The conclusion was this: Let yourself be who you are. Be smart, use common sense, and don't let yourself feel pressured either way. When it's right, you'll know it.

I slept a little less troubled that night.