Life After Peace Corps

Things I Love to Do

My neighborhood has lot of flowers and trees.  In front of my apartment, there are two fruit trees: apple and the purple leaf plum.  I recognized the apple tree since spring but discovered the purple leaf plum tree only yesterday.  It was its deep red fruit caught my attention.  I spot a few lying on my running path.  Immediately, I thought they were cherries.  But when I bit into the fruit, it was crunchy like a plum with a sweet and sour taste.  I went to “google” and found out its name.   I was excited, went back to the tree and kept taking pictures of its fruits  Leaning new things in nature always brings me lots of joy.    

If I can re-live again, I would love to be a Botanist or Archeologist.  I am just a nature lover; crazy about everything in the natural world: flowers, trees, wildlife, streams, waterfalls, mountains, rocks and even a dead tree.  Remembering their names and shapes seems effortless to me.  Once I study a plant, I never forget its name and its look.   I think I will be happy just gardening every day, or scouting the wood every weekend.    I will be equally happy if I am a National Park Ranger, visiting a mountain every day. 

To be an Archeologist, one must have a strong desire for adventures, which I know I have.  Traveling to remote places, climbing into tombs, caves, mountains, cliffs, finding out the  relationship between people and landscapes, discovering the mysterious past behind each excavation, etc…  all that mesmerizes me.  Men like Indiana Jones, to me, are the most interesting and sexiest men on earth! I will have endless conversation with them over dinner with a glass of wine and candle light.

Anyway, I have lots of plans when I retire.  I can be a volunteer for a National Park, Sierra Club or an archeology society, or I can hike the entire Appalachian Trail, Continental Divide or the Pacific Crest, disappear into the woods for months, to be a hermit…..

Would that be nice?

Life After Peace Corps

 Life as It Should Be

The recent GSA scandal not only causes the casualty of a few top executives, it also creates massive financial reporting nightmares to other Federal agencies.  About a month ago, my organization received a letter from US Senator requesting a list of conference costs.   Financial reporting is my expertise, I had no problem putting the data in the format that was requested, but the data was MASSIVE, more than 3,000 entries , so I worked very hard for a week, nearly as hard as I used to when I worked for the private sector.  

Well, doing special project (like this Congressional Request) is always interesting.   I have been with the Smithsonian only three months, but I learnt a lot, including some of the BIG words, such as Curator, Philanthropy, Symposium, Synchrotron and Anthropological;  words that I never ever used before.  Now I can talk like a Professor, a Scientist, an educator, or even Dr. Chan…..:-)

I like my job, I like my organization.  It is a privilege to work for the Smithsonian. The work is not difficult at all.  Sometimes, I do feel bored working for the Federal Government.  I missed the dynamic environment in the private sector, the board room drama, the everlasting challenges of my brain, the accomplishments, and of course, the BIG FAT bonus at the end.  All those things made me feel important, productive, smart and proud.  Not everyone can handle the pressure I used to deal with everyday….but at the end, I could not deal with it any longer.

At this stage of my life, I want to spend more time doing things I enjoy.  Working 40 hours a week is enough.   I am off this Friday, plan to visit some museums, maybe go to Mt. Vernon, visit George Washington Estate, maybe take a long walk along the river, maybe visit my friends in NY, or maybe doing nothing at all……

Life After Peace Corps

Strawberry Field

Spring time is just lovely here along the Four-Mile Run stream, a small running creek down by the hill of my apartment.  The place exerts a magnetic spell.  Wild flowers are everywhere.  So far I have identified the daffodil, dogwood, Virginia bluebell, wild iris and strawberry, cliff rose, forget-me-not, yellow buttercup and many many more.  Here is the place I called “Strawberry Field”. 

About four miles into my walk, there is a patch of earth full of wild strawberry.  I never saw a real wild strawberry before.  Back in New York by the hiking trial of Harriman State Park, I spotted a few wild strawberry shrubs.  Occasionally in early May, I would see their yellow flowers, but I had never once seen the flowers grow into fruits.  Perhaps, they lacked of nutrients, or maybe birds got into the fruits before I had a chance to see them.   But here it is!  A plot of grassland by the river is full of wild strawberries.  The fruits are very small, but plumb with crimson color.  I pick one and taste it, not so sweet but juicy.  The birds should love them.    There is another plant I discovered by the hillside of the river. Its leave resembles the Chinese squash that my Brooklyn friend Wood grows in his garden.   It has the same yellow flower.  I have to remember to check them out in autumn.  Maybe that yellow flower will turn into a squash.  Wishful thinking!      

I find a nice spot to take a break on a level rock.  A gurgling sounds of the stream smooths me.  I take off my shoes and dip my feet into the water.  It is cold but I really enjoy the feeling.  My mind begins to drift back to early February when I first moved to Virginia.   I had my early sorrow.  I missed New York.  Many weekend, I felt desolate and bereft.  But as soon as I had decided to train for the 26-mile hike, I started taking long walk along the Four-Mile Run stream.  The walk slowly and surely heals my wounds.  While I am with the river, I forget my loneliness.  I keep walking and walking, discover more attractions along the river shore.  The river has also taught me another lesson about life.  Life resembles the flow of a river, it is constantly moving.  No matter how many twists and turns, the river continues to push forward and eventually, reaches its destination.  So I should enjoy the ride and not to be defeated by its turbulence.  Given time, I will fine-tune with my new life in Virginia, meeting new friends, developing a new altitude and living contentedly in a quiet suburban area.  Soon I will not miss the city life of New York. 

A child’s playful giggling brings me back to present, Oh! time to head back home.   Linda and Iren, my two Returned Peace Corps friends are coming to see me.  We are going to have a nice Chinese homemade lunch…….

Life After Peace Corps

Best Time of the Week

Sunday morning is the time I treasure the most.  Usually, I get up very early, clean my apartment, do laundry, and water my plants.  I walk around bared foot on the squeaky clean wooden floor, have a cup of 3 in 1 Chinese coffee and watch the sun comes up behind the two big sugar maple trees in front of my living room window.  That is how my day begins.

My apartment is facing east, captures all the morning sun.  As soon as the sun comes out, my plants become alive, someday, I could nearly hear them sing.  The blue morning glory plant whose seeds I brought back from Azerbaijan last year is growing nicely.  Actually, it is growing very aggressively. Its vines quickly spread by way of long, creeping sterns.   It seizes every object it can take hold of and grips on tight.  I have to trim the vines and let them grow along my floor lamp.  Soon I will see its blue flower.

After I make myself a hearty healthy breakfast, then I am ready to head out for a long walk.   My favorite part of the walk is a river gorge about five miles from where I live.  Some time I like to refer it as “my canyon” for I love the sound of it.   Inside the canyon, everything is just lovely.   Here is what I wrote when I first discovered this place:

I followed the watercourse and it led me to a narrow gulch.  Inside, the air was moist and cool.  Immediately, I was taken in by the luxuriance of plant life along the stream bank.  The vegetation was lush and green.  Soon I could hear the gurgling sound of running water echoing through the gully. Occasionally, small rapid appeared, and the water cascaded down to a rock chute.  There it was! a lovely water hole right underneath it.   Sun rays peeked through tree branches and casted a brilliant glow on the water surface.  At the bottom, pebbles covered with green algae and I found a few tiny fishes wiggling merrily.   Judging by the gully’s steep walls and richly forest, I was convinced that once upon a time, this place must be a remote coulee profuse with wildlife and exotic plants.  So I named this place “My Canyon”. 

This place is part of “My 26-mile hike training trail in Virginia” article.  I am still in a process of finishing it and hope to share it with my hiking friends in NY soon.  So stay tuned, my fellow 26-mile hikers. 

Life After Peace Corp - 26 mile hike

Finally, the 26-mile hike is over.  With so much anxiety and high expectation.  I am glad I did not give it up and decided to train for it.  Nice to have a goal and stick to that goal, which makes life a bit more interesting.  Here is only section of my hiking story.  To read the entire article, stay tune with CMCNY.org website or contact the author

.......As we all anticipated, the most challenging part of the 26-mile hike was the hills leading to the Scutt Memorial and Irish Potato.  The cliffs on Scutt Memorial were always my biggest fear.  Looking down to the overhangs, I felt my leg muscles tightening.  Thirteen years ago my first 26-mile hike with Gin, he showed me a trick to stop cramping. I remembered what he said and tried very hard to fight the cramp.  It worked!  On the most dangerous section, Helen and I just sat on our bottoms, inched our ways down to the cliff floor.  Thank God it did not rain or we would have very wet behinds!  On our way to the Irish Potato, we caught up with Sandy, soon we saw Seita too.  Four of us arrived at the parking lot of the Fire Tower at 12:20pm.  Leo from the 6-mile hike team left us precious water there.  Two can of “Red Drink” were reserved for Seita and James.  Before today, I never heard of this high energy drink.  I took a sip from Seita’s can and disliked it almost immediately.  Water was still my beloved drink, cool, refreshing and with a taste of nature.  Love it! 

Four of us rested for less than ten minutes and headed out to the Fire Tower.  As a general rule, we were allowed to use the paved road instead of the dirt trail.  The paved road was steep but compared to the dirt trial, it was a much easier climb.  Sandy began to show down, Seita, Helen and I went ahead without her.  There was a lilac shrub along the trail.  Its lavender flowers were in full bloom.  I could smell its sweet fragrant in the air.  Its presence added a little excitement to my hike.  Each year, I looked forward to seeing her.  Here she was, beautiful as ever! 

......

T he last two miles of the 26-mile trail remained a challenge.  By now, our bodies had already been tested to the limit.  Most people would slow down and complain about the everlasting hills.  Here in front of me was a narrow meandering path leading upward to a mountain top.   The sun had been playing hide and seek behind clouds whole day, and it finally decided to come out and stay.  Its rays casted a brilliant glow on the mountain top, illuminating every flora on the hillsides.  Trees with emerald leaves were shivering and sparkling, cheering and celebrating the arrival of spring.  Suddenly, I was full of energy, climbing up to the hill effortlessly.  Seita was having a difficult time to catch up with me.  I left him there and was content that finally, I was alone.   

It was a strange feeling to hike alone in the forest.  My mind began to wandering again, this time, I thought about Mr. Chen, how much I missed hiking with him.  I looked up the hill once more and I saw a familiar figure silhouetted against the late afternoon sky, a slim shadow of Mr. Chen climbing up to the Blauvelt Mountain alone…….. What was he thinking? Why did he never quit the 26-mile hike? What motivated him?  What was he trying to attest?  The questions I pondered for the longest time.  Today, I seemed to have the answers.

..........

Life After Pace Corps

An “Abnormal” Lady

Every morning I ride a bus to work. There is this lady, a not so good looking lady; some people may even say that she is “UGLY”. She is not thin, to be exactly right, she is over-weight, and some folks may want to correct me and insist that she is actually OBESE. By and large, she is not a type of woman whom a man would be interested in. Most likely, a man would never want to look at her AGAIN, EVER!

She usually sits in the front, right by the entrance of a bus, on the seats that are designated to “Disable Person”. So, no matter how hard you try, you cannot miss her once you board the bus. She likes to wear tight pants, tennis shoes and loose top. Her oversized glasses magnify her cross-eyes to twice as big. Oh, did I mention she loves her music. With her headset on, she keeps swinging her head back and forth, singing “hallelujah, hallelujah, HALLELUJAH”, a Christmas song. Some bus riders got annoyed with her loud singing, but the bus driver never tried to stop her. So she has the right to Hallelujah as long and as loud as she wishes. By now, you probably would realize that she has Down Syndrome, or the meant people would use the not-so-nice word “Retarded”.

I never dislike her even she keeps staring at me all the time for no reason. Occasionally, I would be startled by her sudden movement. Sometimes, out of the blue, she would raise her voice, talk to her friends at the back of the bus or asked her friends a question about nothing. After a while, I paid no attention to her. Most of the time, she is simply an object, rather than a human figure to me. Other routine bus riders ignore her as well. In our “normal” people’s point of view, she is no one but a flat face, short neck object with a pair of slant cross-eyes.

This morning, I ride on the same bus with her again. She has a haircut, I notice. Right across from her is a teenager occupying the “Disable Seat”. Normally, I would go back to my routine reading and not paying any more attention to her. But today, for some reason, my eyes rest steadily on her. I watch her swinging back and forth with her music. She appears to be quite comfortable, actually very happy and extremely content. She is enjoying herself in her own little world; nothing around her matters. I begin to envy her. Then something happens………

The bus stops, a blind man boards the bus. She sees him and makes a quick but firm demand to the teenager across from her. She gestures the teenager to move out of the “Disable Seat” immediately. You can sense her eagerness to have that seat ready for the blind man. No one except me notices her act and no one except her makes that demand. I am touched, deeply moved by her sensitivity towards that blind man.

Is she really abnormal, I begin to wonder…………

Life After Peace Corps

Pleasant Encounter

Part of my 26-mile training path in VA goes through dense woodlands. Inside, there are network of trails made by dog walkers. Some trails are up on a steep slope, far away from the bicycle path and the Four Mile Run stream. At first, I did not dare entering into those woods alone as more often than not, those trails were deserted. Finally, curiosity overcame my fear, I went in one Sunday afternoon and since then, there was no turning back. Initially, I was startled by every rustling noise of the forest, and I cursed at the birds erupted under my feet. But after a while, I realized that there was really nothing to fear in nature. Now, I am more afraid of bumping into a stranger than a wild animal. Besides, those isolated winding routes are perfect for my training for the 26-mile hike.

Last Sunday, I went into the woods again. The entrance was a narrow corridor leading to a small hill. The path was littered with broken tree barks and padded with many seasons of fallen dried leaves. It was very comfortable to walk on, perhaps it made a nice bedding as well. As I causally looked ahead, something caught my attention, at the top of the hill stood a small animal. At first, I thought it was dog, a very small dog. But then, I noticed that the animal had a slim figure, too elegant to a dog, and where was the owner. I took off my sunglasses and had a second look. That animal looked straight at me. It did not move, just stood there and looked at me intensely. I stared back and did not move either. For five seconds, we both just stood there, waited to see who would do the first move. Finally, it moved away slowly, realized that I meant no harm. As it turned away, I could see its full profile, it was not a dog. It is a wild red fox! a beautiful red fox with long brown tail. I hurried up to the hill, stopped on the spot where the red fox once stood. The red fox was long gone but I found myself standing there with a big smile.

I remember an article of Edward Abbey. He described his encountered with a mountain lion in the wild. This is what he wrote:

I have not seen a mountain lion since that evening, but the experience remains shining in my memory. I want my children to have the opportunity for that kind of experience. I want my friends to have it. I even want our enemies to have it…..

That was exactly how I felt