Jumping Off the Ledge

I seem to have a tendency to hurl myself off the high dive verses learning the basic back stroke. Basics and I never got along. This is why when I took calculus, I would understand the calculus but end up messing up the Algebra. When I started singing, I bypassed the 24 Italian Arias book that every soprano ever has sang out of and went straight to the Queen of the Night Aria. (Look it up on youtube, you understand how much I ignored the basics there.) My first summer out of college, I decide I should go to Uganda, work with an AIDS organization in the counseling department, and create my own project on disclosure.

So a lot of my endeavors tend to have rocky beginnings. But in all honesty, I think I thrive off my life being a series of "oh no, what have I gotten myself into?s" and then finding a way out.

After a few weeks in Uganda, not understanding what anyone is saying ever, contracting malaria, and boda boda-ing my way into too many sticky situations to count, I can say that I am loving this. Yesterday, I went back to the clinic again after finishing my second round of medication on Sunday evening. No ass injection this time! The malaria is all gone. I don't even have some. Lyndsie and I walked out of the clinic, bought some passion fruit from a street vendor, located samosas, and walked around town enjoying our lunch.

This summer is learning how to let go of notions and habits. It is finding a way to acclimate when my mere presence stands out. It is also a little of proving I am who I say I am. I say I am adventurous and like trying new things. I say I hate complacency and routine. I say I want to make a difference in the world. You reply, "Okay, sure Hilary, you also go to bed by ten o'clock most nights and own more cardigans than any sane grandma." But now I have proof!

(Okay, so I will point out again that I am in Uganda. But I think you got that one by now.) This weekend, I woke up on Friday morning, packed a weekend bag, and made my way to the taxi park in Masaka. The other interns and I got on a coster (bus), drove to Kampala for three hours, grabbed a taxi (van), drove another two hours, and ended up in Jinja, the location of the source of the Nile. After enjoying a relaxing evening watching the USA v. Slovenia game at a local bar, I went to bed bright and early at 9:30. So, I am not proving myself quite yet, but just wait. Saturday morning, I get up, put on a life-vest, and white water raft the Nile. Let me put this in perspective. The Nile has class five rapids. Niagara Falls is a class six, or guaranteed injury/death. The next morning, I get up and bungee jump over the Nile. Actually, into it, up to my chest.



This weekend is rivaling all others as one of the best I have ever had. But life is all about trying make each day better than the last...