Life, you beauty

I’m a happy kind of girl. Unless there is something pretty painful that I’m grappling with, cheeriness and optimism are my default state. This past year in New York has been a good one. I’ve made fantastic friends, I’ve gotten to know one of the greatest cities in the world, and I’ve been learning a lot in an intense but rewarding program. School drove me a bit insane at times, of course, but the madness just made all of us closer and I always managed to have fun.

But this past week, I have felt

for the first time in a long time.

I skinny-dipped by moonlight in the Indian Ocean. I danced with abandon till 3am with people I’d known only a few days but already loved to pieces. I wandered around deliciously sandy and salty and just feeling the sun on my face was enough to make me wriggle with joy. I slept in odd places and at odd hours: on couches and buses, under palm trees. I met someone from Durango halfway around the world. I ate a coconut straight from the tree. I spent several nights singing karaoke, strolling the dusky streets of Nairobi, and overlooking the cityscape from the rooftop while soaking up the company of some really special travelers whose paths all overlapped for a stolen few days. And when you meet a like-minded person on the road, the usual boundaries don't apply. Friendships are near instantaneous, deepest wishes are shared, spontaneous travel plans are made together, next week and two years from now, and you totally mean it.

Being here, meeting other people who love to explore… it’s scratched that itch in a big way. It’s funny how single-minded I’ve been about working in East Africa. I said something recently in my post about going back to Tanzania that I’ve been thinking about a lot: how maybe your first adventure is always the one you fall in love with. I love it here. I truly do. But I wonder if I’ve been so set on coming back here and working long-term because my time in Tanzania was the coolest thing I’d ever done and I wanted to recapture that feeling - and now that I'm here, it feels silly to have ever thought this was the only place I could find what I was looking for.

So… I still want to come back and work here. But probably not for a hard news organization like AP, and probably not for as long as I had planned. I was so gung ho about really immersing myself in the culture for a few years, minimum. Now, I could see myself coming back to work on a documentary, freelancing some radio stories, and then... leaving. What a marvelous concept.

Because, the thing is, there are just so many more places out there.

It’s incredibly liberating. I'm looking at the world today and it all seems tinged with the fire of an Australian sunset, I'm gulping the air down like I'm in the highest reaches of the Andes, each gust of wind feels like a road trip with the windows down.

I’m thinking about going to Paris for a fourth semester. Paris! Then maybe I'll work at a winery/hostel in Spain next summer and go to a tomato-throwing festival in Valencia. Then Australia to find a job with a radio station and learn how to surf. Then who knows? Not this girl!

All I know is it could be anything. And that is exhilarating.

The more experiences I have, the more I realize that what I really want out of life is just to live it. I’d still love to work for National Geographic some day, but I don’t want to make that the main focus of my existence. I’d rather build a life than a resume for something that may or may not work out. It’s like the state forcing elementary teachers to teach to standardized tests. Sure, you may have gotten the end result you were hoping for, but what did you miss along the way?

I have skills now that I can take with me wherever I go. I can shoot and edit video, write and produce a radio story, take photos good enough to sell. I may have lost a camera this summer, but I can't wait to find out what sights the future cameras will capture in my hands. I know wherever I go and whatever I do, I’ll do good work, and I’ll wind up somewhere beautiful.

The List

No, not THAT list. (Bear Grylls and Dave Salmoni, btw.)


Sometimes, if I'm feeling stuck and unmotivated, I like to revisit the list of things I want to do in my life. It feels good to check off the things I've done and add new things that have occurred to me, and it generally reminds me of how much I freaking love life.

Be a ski bum.


Hike for a living.


Get a guitar.


Get a tattoo.


Be a freelance writer.


See the Grand Canyon.


Go to Las Vegas.


Ride a motorcycle.


Go white-water rafting.


Go water skiing.

See the Red Sox win the World Series.


Go to journalism school.


See Saturday Night Live live.

See the Northern Lights.

Go to Burning Man.

Go to Bonnaroo.

Go to Glastonbury Festival.

Road-trip America with my sister.

Go to Mardi Gras.

Get a short story published.

Go sky diving.

Go bungee jumping.

Thru-hike the Appalachian Trail.

Run a marathon.

Do Crow pose on top of a precarious rocky mountain at sunrise.

Brew my own beer.

Learn how to surf.

Speak Swahili, Spanish, French, and one other language.

See the Grand Canyon again, with my family.

Own a Subaru with standard transmission.

See Machu Picchu. See Petra. See the Great Wall of China. See the Taj Mahal. See Igauzu Falls. See Ankgor Wat. See the mountain gorillas in Rwanda. Backpack Europe. Climb Kilimanjaro. Visit the Galapagos. Scuba dive in Micronesia. Surf in Australia. Snowboard in New Zealand. Visit every state. Visit every continent.

Live and work in Africa.

Work for National Geographic.

Write and publish a novel.

Have a dog. Have ten.

I feel better now!


These scruffy Canadian dudes have a pretty sweet list.


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108 Sun Salutations

Three years ago, I spent a semester in Tanzania with the School for International Training. While I was there, I did a three-day homestay with a family of Maasai, the traditional pastoralist people who believe all the cows in the world are theirs by divine right. Here's an excerpt from one of the emails I sent home in March of 2006:

They dressed me in traditional Maasai garb; long blankets draped over the shoulder and tied at the waist, and lots of beaded and metal jewelry. With my hair in braids, one of the other students told me I looked like Pocahontas. I felt a little ridiculous, but mostly fabulous. I used my outer blanket to carry jugs of water over my head and played with the kids under a tree, hoping all the while that the warriors who stopped by would take me dancing when they left at dusk.

On Wednesday night, my last night of homestay, my yeyo put one of the big beaded collars over my head and showed me how to shake my shoulders so it jingles the way the young Maasai girls do. My papa beckoned me to follow and with three of the girls from neighboring bomas - all from around 8 to 11 years old - we set off across the sandy hills to where the warriors, who had returned home with their cattle now that the rains had come, would dance with the girls who might eventually become their wives or mistresses. 

It was a walk that will always stand out with complete clarity in my memory, though it felt surreal at the time: the silhouette of my Maasai papa with his blanket wrapped around his shoulders and fembo walking stick in hand, navigating with only the moonlight softly illuminating the land to guide him, the three little girls in their head wraps, their necklaces tinkling as they walked, the approaching lightning flashing silently, still too distant to hear the thunder, and behind me, the faint red glow at the summit of Oldonyo Lengai. 

As we entered the boma, the layered chanting of the warriors and the high-pitched responses of the girls started and I was swept into the dancing. Warriors would stomp forward and whip their blankets under a girl's chin as a sign of flirtation. Several did it to me and once it coincided with a lightning flash that showed the whites of his eyes inches from mine. They're not messing around. Girls would disappear with a warrior for a time and then return, giggling, and jump back into the dancing. Loud thunder signalled the arrival of the storm that had been threatening, and the dancing was cut short so that we could walk back to the boma in the pouring rain. I fell into bed next to sleeping little Monica, sopping wet and deliriously happy.

Those were the craziest three days I'd ever experienced. Sleeping on a cowskin with my host mother and her three children, a volcano erupting ten miles away... man. It was epic. 

Me and my little brother, Troima, at his boma by Lake Natron in northern Tanzania, March 2006.

At the end, along with the rest of my American classmates, I was given the opportunity to ask a group of women questions, and they were astonishingly candid about any number of topics, including circumcision. Many of them regarded it as a normal rite of passage and didn't seem to feel too strongly about it, but there are women out there who want something else. They were all very young when it happened to them, and there was no alternative in order for them to become women in the eyes of their culture.


I think it's important to respect unique cultures like the Maasai and the traditions that make them so distinct, and also to respect the rights of young girls who historically have had very little say in their own fate. I don't think I can emphasize enough how important it is for these girls simply to have THE OPTION to pursue a different path. 


So, this coming Saturday, I will be participating in the Houses of Hope Yoga-thon in Central Park.  From the website:


"The organization is run by Agnes Pareyio, a Maasai woman, who has been working to end FGM for over a decade through education and the development of an alternative rite of passage for young women... Agnes has built two safe houses where young women live, are educated and do not face pressure to undergo FGM. There are plans to build 6-9 more houses across Africa."


I feel like this is a small way I can create a little more good karma in the world. Thank them for the amazing experience, you know? And I love yoga. It's all one big win!


If you're interested in helping me support this awesome cause, go here (or, better yet, create your own fundraising page):


http://www.americansforunfpa.org/netcommunity/ejhargraves