Berhaupte933’s Weblog

I found the travel essay that I read at http://www.czajkowski.co.uk/Samoa/samoaessay1.htm

We discovered that a mythical South-seas charm can still be found on Samoa.

Our plane descended between Upolu and Savaii, the two largest islands of Samoa. Dramatic volcanic craters towered high with exaggerated cartoon-like profiles, and the jungle below, dense in coconut palm trees, looked lush and steamy even from the air. We had arrived to spend a week in Samoa, opting for the natural and simple rather than the luxurious, not that there would have been many options for the latter.

Until recently called Western Samoa, and distinguished from its wealthier and more westernised neighbour American Samoa by it independence and stronger adherence to its traditional roots, Samoa is a unique combination of South Sea paradise and traditional culture. Paul Theroux, the renowned travel-writer, wrote of Samoa “Take this place seriously and you’re dead!”. Not much danger there – how could one take seriously such surreal contrasts as children walking everywhere without shoes, yet carrying brand new and expensive rugby boots; or villagers, living the simplest of rural existences in the jungle without electricity, meticulously preening their plots with diesel grass strimmers, tending to immaculate gardens that would put most of Hampstead to shame.

We had chosen the Seipepa Samoan Travel Home as our base for exploring both Apia and the island of Upolu. This unique hostel is almost always full thanks to the cult status that it is acquiring among travellers. It is run by Mats and Sia, a Swede and his Samoan wife. Having been overwhelmed by the friendliness and hospitality of the Samoan people, Mats wanted other travellers to experience the same hospitality. The home is a tranquil haven in the Apia back-streets, set among Banana and Hibiscus plants, and is on the same plot as most of Mats and Sia’s family – some 30 or so Samoans of every age. Each morning we rose to a shared breakfast of local tropical fruit served on a Banana leaf, washed down with fresh Samoan coffee in a coconut-shell – admiring the floor beautifully decorated in flowers and leaves – a different design every day. The originality of this authentic experience is reflected even in the price – there isn’t one! Visitors are asked to pay whatever they feel to be a fair price on departure. But how do you put a price on a stay in paradise?

The sleepy steamy port of Apia, the Capital, is a scraggly collection of buildings around a harbour. Heading for the main market, often the best way to absorb local colour, we passed locals fishing in traditional outrigger canoes or standing immersed up to their chests. By the water’s edge others sold long lines with ten or more fish attached. In the very centre of the town, Samoa’s only cash-machine stood guarded by a security man, not to protect tourists from theft, we were told, but rather to stop the local inquisitive children playing with the buttons.

The market was hot and dusty, and packed with locals selling produce of every description. Piles of coconuts, tarot root and paw-paw filled every available space, whilst clusters of bread-fruit filled beautiful hand-weaved Pandanus-leaf baskets. Whole branches of Bananas, may be 300 or more, sold for 8 Tala (around £1.75). Beside the market was the bustling bus-station, where the beautiful brightly-coloured wooden buses, with loud music blaring, came and went with great regularity. In a moment of rashness, with no idea of its destination or of the protocol for being a passenger, we boarded a bus and set-off for a mystery journey. At first the bus made several journeys between the two bus-stations, filling up the available places. When we finally left Apia, we were immediately thrust into the lush interior, passing small villages full of happy Samoans playing Kirikit (the local cricket) among the fale. These are the traditional Samoan houses – and are unique in that they have no walls. The sides have only ebony pillars around a metre apart. All the possessions of a Samoan household are in full view of the entire world. Chests of drawers and cabinets with the family heirlooms stand open to the elements, protected from rain only by thatched blinds that can be lowered when needed. There is no privacy in a Samoan village. We would often walk through the Apia suburbs in the evening, passing open fales where entire families watched television, ate or slept behind invisible walls.

Having left the bus before disappearing for ever into the interior of Upolu, we wandered back into Apia, admiring the beautifully manicured lawns. And so we explored Apia and the island of Upolu for a couple of days, swimming on pristine beaches, passing dramatic jungle waterfalls tumbling into beautiful pools, and snorkelling over vibrant coral in our search for clown-fish.

Apia has two historic buildings famed throughout the South pacific. Samoa drew Robert Luis Stevenson to settle for the last four years of his life, and his beautifully restored home, Vailima, is rich in evidence of the special place that the locals held for the great story teller. Tutuila (“Storey Teller”) they called him, and so saddened were they by his death that they carried him to the top of a local mountain where his tomb stands to this day. A sticky one-hour walk takes you to the tomb, with stunning views over Apia and the surf breaking on the reef beyond. At the other end of Apia is Aggy Grey’s Hotel, with legendary status comparable with Raffles in Singapore or the Savoy in London, where movie stars and soldiers escaping the drudgery of American Samoa sipped cocktails and watched exotic Polinesian dancers. Talk to the doorman or the receptionist, and they will tell you of personal meetings with Princes Andrew and Edward.

Apia and Upolu are a great introduction to Samoa, but to experience Fa’a Samoa (“the Samoan way”) at its most authentic you need to escape and head for the villages of Savaii, the second island. It is here that you discover the warmest of people and the most stunning scenery, with unspoilt beaches, soaring volcanic peaks and craters, and pristine rainforest. We rented one of the few jeeps on Savaii, and after a somewhat bureaucratic 30 minutes spent finding the right place to obtain the Samoan driver’s licence, we set of. It soon became evident that three hands were required for driving in Samoa – two for the mundane task of controlling the vehicle and one for waving at all the happy village children along the road. On the most remote roads we would come across long lines of children walking to school, dressed in the most beautifully coloured school uniforms, the boys in bright lavalavas (wrap-around skirts – the traditional male dress). Show these children a camera, and they instantly arrange themselves into a collective pose.

We passed through sleepy village after sleepy village, avoiding pigs and chickens, and flying cricket balls. Coiled Pandanus leaves lay drying in the sun outside fales, whilst Samoans lay sleeping inside on mats woven from past crops of leaves. We passed entire families sitting in the sea immersed up to their necks, fully clothed, cooling-off Samoan style. And the heat was certainly challenging. However, a refreshing drink was never far away in the form of a fresh coconut. On one occasion, a young boy appeared with a large machete knife to open the coconut for us. I wanted to change my mind and spare his hand, but I need not have worried. These people learn from an early age to harness the wealth of natural produce from their jungle.

Its difficult to describe the richness of the vegetation in Samoa. Coconut palms are everywhere, interspersed with banana trees, papaya, bread-fruit, tarot, ebony, mahogany… – the list seems to be endless. In some areas, the rainforest is magnificent, with majestic trees towering high into the canopy, and long lania vines dangling everywhere, crying out to the Tarzan in me to have a swing. The whole look and feel of Samoa is like some strange mythical tropical place that could only exist in a movie. Imagine the jungle in the Disney film “Jungle Book” and you have a pretty good starting point.

At the far north-western tip of Savaii we came across the fabled village of Falealupo, where Dr Paul Cox, a botanist living among the villagers in the 1980’s, saved the rainforest and the flying foxes from the logging companies who had traded logging rights for money to pay for an essential village school. He bought-out the logging company and raised the money needed to pay for the local school, thereby saving the forest – only to watch it devastated by the worst Cyclone in history in February 1990, and by subsequent fires. Today, a suspended walkway 25 metres above the forest floor stretches between Banyan trees – a testimony to Paul Cox’s efforts, showing how the rainforest can generate money for the village non-destructively.

Although you can sleep on a platform at the top of the Banyan tree, we selected to stay in a beach-fale, which is no more than a platform on the beach covered by a thatched roof. Our host, Levi, spoke virtually no English, but we managed to agree a price for the night with dinner and breakfast, whilst I anxiously eyed the two-foot machete he held in his hand, and the Samoan tattoos circling his arms and waist. This is the last place the sun sets each day, before crossing the international date-line, and there really is nothing at this extremity of the world except a beautiful beach, wild crashing sea, and forests of dense coconut palms. We strung-out our mosquito net over the mattresses, beautifully presented and laid on Pandanus-leaf mats, and settled down to watch the sun cross into tomorrow. We had heard from other travellers that one could expect a beach fale meal to consist of rice and a tin of mackerel. We were therefore taken aback when, just after sunset, Levi and his two children appeared with a dinner of fresh lobster, fish, tarot and breadfruit, accompanied by chicken and noodles and all washed down by masses of local cocoa. As we sat and read through a visitor’s book that Levi had proudly produced for us to sign, he busied himself by wandering around the beach picking up branches and stones that were out of place, and lighting our oil-lamps. The night was full of humid hot air, glorious south-sea-night stars and crashing of surf – with only the thin mosquito net between us and the vast insect world outside. On the horizon, the lights of villagers in canoes fishing through the night bobbed up and down. In the morning, after a healthy breakfast, Levi thanked us for our money which would be important to his family. We gave his wife a lift to a meeting of the village women’s group some two miles along the coast, stopping only to pick up her sister and to allow the other villagers to admire our proud passengers.

Driving down the South-East coast of Savaii you pass the Taga blow-holes. These are underground funnels in the lava, where the crashing surf builds up pressure released as jets of water and spray blowing high into the air. Locals throw coconuts into the holes with excellent timing, to have them sent over a hundred feet into the air. Further down the coast, we followed instructions to reach the Afu Afu waterfall and its magnificent crystal-clear plunge pool surrounded by jungle and tumbling water. We had to descend a precarious slope holding on for dear-life to a thoughtfully-grown jungle-vine, but the swim among the fresh-water shrimp in the refreshing turquoise water was worth the climb.

Back in Apia, our last day in Samoa was a Sunday, a day we had been particularly looking forward to experiencing Samoan-style. The Samoan people are devoutly religious (mostly Christian), and It is said that there are even more churches in Apia than in Rome. On Sunday mornings all Samoans go to church and sing their hearts out. They then go home and partake in a massive traditional feast cooked in an underground oven (Umu), and then sleep for the rest of the day! We awoke to find Upolu clad in layers of smoke from Umu ovens cooking lunch throughout the island. Severely underdressed, compared with the locals in their white Sunday-best, we sat at the back of a hot and humid church listening to the singing, beautifully delivered in four-part harmony. Then it was time to watch the Umu being opened in preparation for lunch. The men removed the layers of Pandanus-leaf mats, Bread-fruit leaves and Tarot leaves and finally the carefully positioned hot stones, to reveal an assortment of cooked delicacies. The meal was again eaten cross-legged on the floor of a beautifully decorated fale. The feast included pork, raw fish and a tuna bake in coconut shells, Palusami (coconut cream wrapped and cooked in tender Tarot leaves) with whole UMU-naked Bread-fruit and Tarot root all presented on a Banana leaf. This was one of the best meals I have eaten, and at 15 Tala (around £3) one of the best value. Indeed, all the restaurants at which we ate in Apia were excellent. George’s Pizzas, in an unkempt upstairs balcony, served us one of the best Pizzas we have ever eaten, Italy included! Sails, in front of the harbour, not only served us excellent food but also laid on a personal waiter who was so sad when we were leaving that he worked on a Sunday night just so he could serve us.

And this is exactly the kind of slight quirkiness that you come to expect in this remarkable country. Whilst one shouldn’t take Paul Theroux’s statement about Samoa too literally, if his intention was to warn you to expect the unexpected at all times, then he was spot-on. It is a country rich in unique culture and natural beauty. At a time when growth in Eco-tourism outpaces all other forms of travel, Samoa has something to offer everyone who venture to this extremity of the world. You will also be hard-pressed to find more friendly and genuine people anywhere. It’s hard to impart just how natural and unprepared for tourism these islands are. Only around 40,000 people visit every year, and many of these are friends or family. In Samoa, what you see is what you get. You will find that spending half a day looking for anywhere that will sell you a postcard is not so much frustrating, but rather immensely refreshing. Finding stamps or a pen to write the cards with is another story!

Destination Details:

Location
Independent Samoa (formerly Western Samoa, and usually simply called Samoa) is an independent Polynesian nation in the South Pacific, around 12 degrees south of the Equator, North of Tonga, West of American Samoa and South of Kiribati.

Getting there
Igor and Michelle visited Samoa on an independent holiday. Air New Zealand fly to Samoa from Los Angeles, Honolulu and Auckland. Air pacific Polynesian Airlines additionally connect Samoa with Fiji, Tonga and American Samoa. Savaii can be reached from Upolu by daily flighs with Polynesian Airlines, or by car-fery.

Further reading
Recommended guide books are the “Lonely Planet Guide to Samoa”, and the “Moon Handbook to Samoa, Tonga and Nuie” by David Stanley. “Nafanua – Saving the Samoan Rainforest” by Dr. Paul Alan Cox gives an excellent account of the author’s years living in the Falealupo village in Savaii. “Leaves of the Banyan Tree” by Albert Wendt is an award-winning novel addressing many of the social pressures in Samoan life.

Accommodation
The accommodations mentioned in the feature are the Seipepa Samoan Travel Home in Apia, and the Tanumatiu Beach Fale in Falealupo village, Savaii.

All content and images © Igor Czajkowski 2002

In the 1996-playing season, Michael Jordan made 170,000 dollars a day, playing only 3,106 minutes. This amount is astronomical, even now, over ten years later, as it equals out to 160.97 dollars a second to play professional basketball. In the 2004-2005 playing season, the average worth of a NBA team was $326 million, while they were still making an average of $106 million in revenue. Derek Jeter makes more than $20 million a year to play baseball, where the average teacher’s salary is $50,000 a year. This immense difference is sending a mixed message in our society. Education has seemed to become less valued than entertainment; as several schools and teachers nationwide are struggling to maintain what they have when professional athletes are living very comfortable posh lifestyles.

The American society has fallen into a trend of demonstrating their devout concern with sports entertainment over what is truly important in life. Over time athletes have been getting paid steeper and steeper salaries, whereas educator’s salaries have remained about the same. The vast difference in salaries between these two occupations is sending a mixed message of importance. Americans are demonstrating their feeling of entertainment’s importance over that of educating our youth.

The children in our society and their education have seemed to take a backburner to entertainment. Several television shows nationwide, like Entertainment Tonight, feature stories about athletes and their personal lives, with the American public eating up the information and living for the gossip. On December 29, 2006 Entertainment Tonight featured a story on their website discussing Michael Jordan’s divorce to his wife of 17-years. Information about athletes’ statistics and personal lives can also be viewed during local news broadcasting, as sports information gets its own section each time the news is aired. On the WTEN website there is a section only concerning sports and related articles. This part of the website contains several sections of various sports new each featuring at least five stories. Although, educators are only rarely featured on local news stations for the efforts they put forth to enhance the learning of our future America. On the same WTEN website information about schools are listed on the “Community” page and only feature a total of four stories, with only two pertaining to current educational news. Athletes have a great deal of difficulty remaining out of the public eye. This is something teachers worry about, but often times slide below the public’s radar.

The focus of many Americans can also be seen through the evaluation of parental knowledge. Many parents would know that Alex Rodregiez is the youngest player ever to hit 500 homeruns in his career. Yet far less would know or even care to ask where their child’s teacher was educated and what type of GPA they carried while in college or what extra curricular activities they were involved in. Also, parents rarely know what type of activities the teacher takes part in during their spare time.

Various companies often propose endorsements for athletes and the athlete can turn down the offer. Michael Jordan was offered one million dollars for a one-time appearance for the national airline of Jordan (the country) where he would appear with that country’s national team to promote tourism. This endorsement never happened. Michael Jordan also turned down an offer by a Canadian company in 1990. The company wanted Jordan to appear for three-days in Toronto. The first offered him one hundred thousand dollars, plus all amenities, and then after his first refusal raised the offer to two hundred and fifty dollars plus amenities. The money companies offer to athletes could easily be used in education. The airline company in Jordan could propose a million dollars in efforts to fund a school, pay educators and provide adequate materials for education. The school they created could be named after the airline company, as an effort to advertise, but this is not something companies generally do. Advertisers use athletes to promote their companies knowing it will get the attention of the public faster than investing money in education will. This further demonstrates the American public’s value on entertainment, rather than education.

Has the American society really became this concerned with the sports entertainment business that many of the people can let the children, our future leader’s, education and performance become a second concern following how well a profession athlete performs on the field? By the outrageous difference in salaries and increased concern with athletes one can say that education has taken a backseat. The importance of a teacher educating American’s future can not have a dollar sign placed on it, and especially not one this low, when people are being paid millions of dollars a year to play a sport that considered a hobby for many.

Educating Esmé, the factual account from first year teacher Esmé Raji Codell, is a diary style novel for anyone looking to become inspired while laughing at what life throws your way. Esmé inspires all readers not just future teachers, but also others to go above and beyond the surface level. Teaching in an inner city Chicago Esmé is faced with many other obstacles beyond the first year teacher apprehensions. In her diary she write about dealing with incompetent administrators, abusive parents, gang members, and her own insecurities. Although she does not let any of these factors get in the way of the creative, imaginative learning experiences she creates for her students.I was assigned to read this book for one of my education classes, but found that unlike other assigned readings once I picked this book up I didn’t want to put it down. As I read each diary entry I became more and more intrigued by Esmé’s innovative teaching methods. She creates a learning environment where children have fun learning. She has a particular finesse about her that allows her to work well with the children in her class. She also does not back down from what she believes in, being outspoken about her feelings, especially when it comes to Mr. Turner, the Principal.

“Letter from Birmingham Jail” by Martin Luther King Jr.

Recommendation:

Never again can we afford to live with the narrow, provincial “outside agitator” idea. (83)

Let us all hope that the dark clouds of racial prejudice will pass soon away and the deep fog of misunderstanding will be lifted from our fear-drenched communities, and in some not too distant tomorrow the radiant stars of love and brotherhood will shine over our great nation with all their scintillating beauty. (100)

Disagreement:

Shallow understanding from people of good will is more frustrating than absolute misunderstanding from people of ill will. (90)

But I now must affirm that it is wrong, or perhaps even more so, to use moral means to preserve immoral ends. (98)

Persuasive Paragraph:             In today’s society professional athletes are paid more than the average teacher or even doctor. How can our society afford to pay athletes more money than the people trying to educate our youth and the people trying to save our lives? It has become a misunderstanding that the work that athletes do can be seen as more valuable than doctors and teachers. Society has become so fixated on the fame of others that the real value of life has escaped many. We as a society need to find a way to bring this concept into perspective, reevaluating our priorities to ensure that we have the most important issues in viewpoint.

Over the course of four short days of knowing my father’s life was coming to an end we shared countless conversations about life. I would lie in bed with him as he drifted in and out of sleep, talking about my life and his views, as we both cried. My father had only cried in front of me one other time in my life, and that’s when my grandfather passed away from bladder cancer. Despite this, his tears were not seen as a sign of weakness, but again a sign of the bravery he was passing on to me. Through the conversations my father and I shared life, I continued reshaping my life perspectives.

Looking at life from a different perspective often comes from a significant life change. Although, the life change is oftentimes negative, the results can overtime become very positive. Life changes allow you to take a step back and reevaluate yourself and the others around you, forcing you to alter your perspectives.

My father had always been the one I looked up to, the one I wanted to grow up and be just like, and the man I turned to when nothing else seemed clear. He had been diagnosed with colon cancer, the third most common cancer in the United States for men and women according to the American Cancer Society, when I was in sixth grade. He underwent an operation, further observation, and chemotherapy that successfully removed the cancerous section and maintained any other cancerous cells. Well at least that’s how it seemed, until two and half years before he passed away his new oncologist discovered what his old oncologist called “spots” on his liver. The spots were much more serious then the old oncologist had led us to believe. Again my father was forced to reevaluate his situation and take a stance on his life outlook. He never appeared to be down about his situation, coming off as proud and brave, always holding it together. As the cancer began to get worse and different medicines came and went, he still managed to show those around him, even the closest ones, that he was not going to be beat by this disease no matter how much it was trying to break him down. He continued all the same activities he had before his diagnosis; family vacations, working on his old cars, running his own small business, and being an amazing husband, father and grandfather. Everything my father did was centered on his family, making sure his wife was happy, each of his five children were living the best life they could be, and that his grandchildren were being spoiled beyond belief. After his second diagnosis this was even more apparent in his life, making it obvious that he had reevaluated the actions he made in his life deciding to teach all the rest of us without family and their support you are left with nothing.

In August of 2005, two weeks before my freshman year of college, the doctors told my father there was nothing more they could do. As if transitioning from high school to college wasn’t a significant enough life change, the thought of doing it while I was losing the most important man in my life was an even harder transition to consider. This is the time in my life that I knew I needed to step back, reevaluate, and being to look at life from a different perspective.

Watching my father’s undoubted bravery forced me to address hurdles I was faced with in my life in the same brave manner. My father had always shown us that a life without purpose was similar to a car without wheels – useless. He was always proud, bragging to nurses at the hospital and friends, about what his children and grandchildren were accomplishing. This showed me that the life choices I was making were validated and I could be sure I was headed in the right direction.

Over the course of four short days of knowing my father’s life was coming to an end we shared countless conversations about life. I would lie in bed with him as he drifted in and out of sleep, talking about my life and his views, as we both cried. My father had only cried in front of me one other time in my life, and that’s when my grandfather passed away. Despite this, his tears were not seen as a sign of weakness, but again a sign of the bravery he was passing on to me. Through the conversations my father and I shared life, I continued reshaping my life perspectives.

I was hesitant to leave for school not knowing what was going to come, but my father continued to encourage me. The words he spoke to me that week play over in my head whenever I get frustrated and feel like giving up.

“I didn’t raise ANY of my children to stick their head in the sand when the going gets tough.”

“It’s time to buck up!”

“I know it’s going to be hard and things are going to change, but you can handle it.”

“Remember no matter what I will be there with you.”

And when I still need a little more pushing or just my father’s support I read the card he gave me on my graduation over and over. On the inside he conveyed just how proud he was of my accomplishments and the ones that were to come. Although the message is short, his words are powerful and reassuring. My favorite line he wrote me is,

“That pressure you feel on your shoulder is my hand trying to guide you through life ‘YOU WILL DO WELL.’ “

Looking back now it was as if somewhere behind his brave appearance he had known before any of us that his fight was coming to an end, knowing that he needed to make sure we all knew the amount of love and pride he felt for all of us.

Knowing that my father was able to show the ones around him the way he felt for them and their choices I decided that I was going to do the same. Making sure that my family would always know the appreciation I have for them and all that they do. Sometimes I take for granted what they do and then remember the vow I made. I also decided that I would never let a day pass without being thankful for everything I have. My father showed me that there is no other way to live your life, and that even when life strikes you down, letting it keep you down is not an option.

Cancer seems to have affected everyone you talk to, as the lifetime risk for cancer in Americans is one in every seventeen for males and one in every eighteen for females. According to the American Cancer Society colon cancer will be diagnosed in an estimated 108,070 patients in 2008. From those the colon cancer cases this year there will be about 49,960 deaths as a result. Although, this number might not seem that high for all Americans, keep in mind these statistics are only dealing with colon cancer. Surprisingly the death rate has actually been decreasing over the past fifteen years. The decrease is a result of fewer diagnosed cases, thankful to earlier detection and improvements among treatment. From looking at these statistics, I can only speculate that my father and I are not the only Americans that have been forced to reevaluate our life perspectives due to a significant life change.

On August 12, 2005 my family said good-bye to the bravest man I’m sure I will ever meet. He had beat the statistics fighting a long hard eight and a half-year battle, when the average survival rate for someone being diagnosed with colon cancer in his early stages is only five years. Although, we were forced to say good-bye to him, we will never have to say good-bye to the lessons he taught us, the memories he shared with us, or the reevaluations we made as a result of his situation. Not a day passes by where I don’t miss everything about life with my father, but I am thankful for the time I was given and then lessons I was able to learn from his life.

My best friend from high school finally admitted to me senior year that she had been dating a girl, which we all had suspected. She had been my best friend since fifth grade; therefore my feelings or opinions about her were completely unchanged. She was nervous about it, as she was still unsure about her decision and how everyone would react to her.

1. There are certain people you can’t go a day without talking to.
2. If it feels right, why question it?
3. Time passes faster as you get older.
4. We know death is inevitable, so why is it so shocking each time it occurs?
5. Without family and friends, you have nothing.
6. Pain can sting just as bad when you’re already expecting it and already know what it feels like.
7. Dreams are our escape from reality.
8. Learning occurs through experiences: good or bad.
9. Why is independence and growing up something so hard to handle?
10. Tomorrow might not be the yesterday you were hoping for.
11. If you don’t expect too much you can’t be let down.
12. I miss being a child, without any cares.
13. Days I remember seem so far away.
14. Silence can be the loudest noise.
15. You should never have to watch your own children lowered in the ground.
16. I dream myself a thousand times around the world, but I can’t get out of this place.
17. Sometimes God’s greatest gifts are unanswered prayers.
18. Laughter keeps us coming back for more.
19. When the power of love overcomes the love of power, the world will know peace.
20. Can someone really know you better than you know yourself?
21. Nothing is better than wasting hours waiting for the sun to come up.
22. True peace is found at the beach – listening to the waves crashing, and feeling the sun beating down.
23. Sometimes I feel like I’m falling.
24. Our emotions can be swept away.
25. Comfort shouldn’t keep you in a place you don’t belong.

As soon as I step through the doors a feeling of security overcomes my body. There has always been a warm, loving feeling felt as soon as you enter the doors of my grandma’s house. The colors of her family room are neutral browns offering a sense of tranquility and reassurance. The walls are not home to much, besides a few old photos of my father, aunts, uncle, and grandfather and a large mirror behind the couch. All the photos are from when they were younger, giving a snapshot into the past. The temperature in the family room is always warm, even in the cold winter months. The smell of home cooked meals drift from the kitchen into the family room, as the family laughs and shares memories. There are two recliners and a couch in this room. One recliner used to be Poppy’s, still to this day when sitting in it; it is as if I am sitting on his lap, wrapped in his caring arms. Next to the chair sits a small stool resembling two feet with painted toe-nails on the bottom, where I used to sit holding Poppy’s hand when he was sick. Even after leaving my grandma’s house the smell of good food lingers on your clothing and the feeling of loving, security still embraces you. Her house is the perfect place to go when you are feeling down, as it invites you into her loving, supportive world.

It was a little after eight and the warm sun was peering in through the camper window, as if to be inviting me out to play. The smell of scrambled eggs, bacon, and home fries could be smelt from the kitchen and the crinkling of Daddy’s newspaper was the first early morning sound. The summer morning excitement of anticipating the day to come began to fill me as jumped out of bed. I quickly got dressed and snuck out the room in order not to wake my sister, Nicole.“Good Morning Baby,” Daddy said looking up from his newspaper as I entered the kitchen.