This is the first in what will hopefully become a series of blogs detailing some of the many strange and random things that happen to us everyday on the World Race. Sometimes I just stop, look around, and realize that this is my life. I’m a nomad with a backpack and some friends who travels around the world sharing God’s love, and funny things happen to me. So, I decided to document these events in a series of vignettes and post blogs about them as they accumulate. I hope you enjoy reading about my odd existence as much as I enjoy living it.
One day in the Dominican Republic, we decided to hitchhike, got picked up by a large truck full of plantains for sale, and proceeded to help them sell their plantains in exchange for a ride. As the sales pitch went on, the woman in charge started screaming in Spanish, “Si llevas cinco platanos, te doy una gringa gratis!” Translation: If you buy five plantains, I’ll throw in a free white girl. I’m pretty sure she was serious. My life is weird.
One day in the Dominican Republic, two of my teammates got into a taxi to go to our ministry site. They assumed, understandably so, that the driver would simply take them to their destination and drop them off. Little did they know, they had also committed to run his errands with him. Along the way he stopped to “get gas,” which in the DR turned out to involve getting everyone out of the backseat, lifting the seat to expose a propane tank conveniently located near the very hot engine, and filling the tank with fresh explosive vapor. Awesome. After everyone was loaded up into their newly refreshed taxi, the driver drove to his own house. Naturally, my teammates assumed he had perhaps forgotten his wallet or some other vital piece of personal documentation that allowed him to be driving said car and purchasing said propane. No. Instead, he reached into his trunk and pulled out some roofing tiles and put them up on his roof. Apparently in the DR, home improvements can’t be neglected, even if you have a car full of passengers eagerly awaiting their destination. My life is weird.
One day in a rural Dominican village a woman came out of her house to invite us inside to chat and have something to eat. As soon as we entered, we saw a large altar covered in idols, figurines, and pictures, and realized we would be dining with a witchdoctor. She made us coffee and sweet potatoes, which we of course prayed over in English before eating, and stood watching us eat. I decided to engage her in some conversation about the altar in the room behind me, but this was made more difficult by the fact that her grandchildren did not see our presence as a sufficient reason to miss their favorite telenovela (incredibly addictive Spanish soap opera). So, as I tried to understand Dominican Spanish, learn about the motivations behind witchcraft, and explain the gospel to a witchdoctor that looked like something straight out of a Disney movie, my soundtrack included a love scene between two scantily-clad castaways marooned on a desert island that was arguably too graphic for TV in any country. My life is weird.
One night in the DR, Team Kaleo decided to partake in a local tradition and attend a baseball game. The arrival of seven white people to the left baseline bleachers drew significant attention, but we thought it had worn off after a few innings. Wrong. Sometime around the seventh inning stretch, a man in the third base dugout came to the fence and began to shout at my teammate, Hailey, in Spanish. Through our laughter, Rosa and I tried to translate as he told her of his undying love for her, the way that only she had captured his attention when we entered, and how he would like her to abandon her future travel plans and stay in the Dominican to be his wife forever. When we explained that their relationship might be doomed to fail on the grounds that Hailey speaks no Spanish, he was undeterred. “Don’t worry,” he shouted, “I don’t need words. I’ll conquer you with my hand gestures!” Yes, conquer was his word choice. Hailey politely declined his generous offer of a life of charade-filled matrimonial bliss. My life is weird.
One day in the rainforest of Ecuador, my team sat down to breakfast, and rejoiced because there was coffee. Our excitement quickly diminished when we realized there was no sugar. But never fear…World Racers are equipped with the ingenuity to find a creative solution to most problems. So we began to squeeze the strawberry jelly from its tube into our coffee cups and stir. Then we realized that a group of Ecuadorian women and children were standing by the door staring at the absurd gringos pouring jelly into their coffee. (Side note: That was not our best idea…take my word for it and find some real sugar. Or try it…your call) My life is weird.
One day in Ecuador, the local “taxi,” which bore a striking resemblance to Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, drove by. The driver was 11 years old. My life is weird.
One night in Ecuador, my teammates Joy and Rosa decided that they had had enough of getting bitten by bugs in their sleep. They had hundreds of bites, and they suspected bed bugs as the main culprit. To verify that they were indeed receiving new bites while they slept, the decided to circle each existing bite with a pen before they went to bed to see if new ones popped up by morning. So, I got out my camera and documented them drawing hundreds of tiny circles all over their itchy legs and writing instructions and reminders next to specifically bothersome bites, such as, “Stop scratching me!” or “May the bug that bit me here die!” Welcome to providing your own entertainment in the rainforest. My life is weird.
One day in Peru I was riding in a taxi back to the church where we are living. As we came out of a traffic circle, my teammate, Joy, exclaimed, “Is that man peeing?!” He was indeed. We drove by a man standing in the middle of the median on one of the busiest, most crowded streets in Trujillo, urinating for all the world to see. Why not? My life is weird.
One night in Peru I was again in a taxi trying to make it to the mall to indulge in some quality American fast food. Our taxi driver, like most in Trujillo, harbored latent dreams of being a Nascar driver, but had been forced to settle for the mediocre life of scaring the hell out of American tourists and missionaries as he careened through the streets and swerved between cars. On a particularly open and wide stretch of highway, his hubcap popped off and clattered to the ground. Instead of pulling over to a safe place like most sane people would do, he stopped smack in the middle of the road, got out of the car, and ran after his missing piece of automotive bling. Also, instead of realizing that if we were rear-ended he would be squished like a bug, he began to fiddle with the trunk until it opened and he could stow his precious cargo. We were thankfully not rear-ended and did eventually make it to the mall where I had the pleasure of translating Jeremiah and Jeff’s attempt to split a Princess McFlurry between the two of them…a concept apparently foreign to Peruvian McDonald’s workers. My life is weird.
One night in Peru we divided up into groups to go visit the Alliance Church’s home small groups. I was with Megan and Kelsey, of Team P.O.P., and we went to someone’s garage for the meeting. After small group ended, our contact ushered us toward our awaiting transportation back to the church. It was not a taxi, a bus, a car, or any other typical form of mobility. No, it was a windowless catering van with nothing inside but three plastic lawn chairs. Megan and Kelsey sat in the two that were facing forward, and I sat in the one facing sideways toward the door. The driver turned around to us and said, “I hope you don’t fall!” Well, I did. Just before we arrived at the church she hit a bump and turned. Normally my feet would have been in front of my body and could have stopped my fall, but since I was facing sideways my chair tipped without control, and I flew out of it. The leg of the chair snapped off, and I landed wedged between two chairs. Megan and Kelsey, although barely able to breathe from laughing so hard, pulled me up out of between the chairs and onto the floor of the van. Let’s just say my left leg isn’t feeling its best right now. My life is weird.
One day in Peru, the four girls of Kaleo moved into our residence for the month. Upon first inspection it seemed like a perfectly normal apartment, far beyond the luxury level commonly found in World Race dwellings. Then we met our roommates. On her way out the door, our house mother mentioned that we may want to be careful to leave the kitchen door closed. “Why,” we asked? “Oh, because of the hamsters.” Naturally. It turned out that her grandson, the apartment’s previous resident, had just finished his Master’s thesis. He works in a lab at a hospital was was researching new cures for a disease. His test subjects of choice were the cages full of hamsters residing in our kitchen. Apparently, although not averse to animal testing, the family did feel enough emotional attachment to the furry critters to continue to house and feed them even after the experiments were over. So, that night during our first team time, at approximately 11:36 pm, one of the women who lives downstairs knocked on the door and entered, armed with a head of lettuce, to release and feed the roomful of scientifically-tested, possibly genetically-engineered rodents who share our living space. My life is weird.
There are more strange things that have happened to me and will continue to happen. As I remember more, I shall continue with Episode 2.
