Ten years ago today, I became a college graduate with a degree in journalism from San Francisco State University (Go Gators!). The night before, I stayed up late, making flowers out of Fimo clay to affix to the top of my graduation cap. Because of SFSU’s centennial anniversary, all the graduates were wearing purple caps and gowns (the guys must have loved that!). Now, mine stood out with bright pink, green and yellow flowers.

Under my gown, I wore a floral green dress that I bought from the kids section at Macy’s. I’m a little embarrassed to admit that I wore a kids’ dress to my college grad, but heck, I still ocassionally buy clothes from the kids section of Gap or Old Navy - and I’m in my 30s. SFSU had about 5,000 grads that year, and everyone was graduating during the same ceremony, as opposed to being split off into different disciplines. Surprisingly, I was able to spot my family and friends in the stands.

The ceremony was a blur. I just remember the commencement speaker reminiscing about the incredibly slow elevator of the Humanities building. I, along with my fellow journalism majors and others who spent most of our time in that building, cheered in agreement. At the end, we didn’t even walk across a stage (as far as I can remember). I think we just walked up near the stage and got a rolled up piece of paper, as our name was called (and called very quickly!).

I recently looked at pictures of SFSU online, and I have to admit that my memory of the campus is not very strong. Maybe because I only lived there for two years, but also because I’ve just forgotten some things. The transfer dorm where Tami and I first lived is now a regular dorm, and a newer, snazzier building is available for transfer students. Even though I lived on campus for awhile, I didn’t take away any friendships from college except for Queencie, who I met during my last semester in capoeira. I already knew Tami from high school, and she and I mostly hung out. I never meshed that well with my roomies, so I never cared to keep in touch. I enjoyed going through my journalism classes with the same set of classmates, but never got to know any of them well enough to keep in touch with after graduation.

I remember being on the school newspaper and the magazine - and now looking back and seeing how bad I was as a newspaper writer when I first started. I signed up for archery with a pass/fail grade, and surprisingly failed the class because I was always blowing off the class and volunteering for last-minute newspaper assignments. I took two semesters of “Singing for Self-Expression,” and will always remember the Disney-themed performance that a group of us did, where another Chinese girl and I sang “Reflections.” We also handed out cupcakes to the other students while singing “Be Our Guest.”

Living on campus was an interesting experience, too. I expected the typical dorm experience where people just walked into each others’ rooms. But since we lived in apartment-type rooms, the doors were always closed and, well, they just didn’t stay open on their own. There were two guys down the hall that we got to know (I worked with one of them at Learningsmith), and we were always storming into each other’s rooms and shooting each other with water guns. I also remember meeting a sort of strange girl downstairs one time because she overheard me playing Smashing Pumpkins songs on the piano. Doing laundry was always a pain because you never knew if the machines were going to be occupied. Even though I lived on campus, sometimes I’d be too lazy to walk back to the dorm room. I usually took naps in “The Pyramid,” an odd-shaped tower above the student union. The Pyramid was always dim, and there were cushions strewn around the room. I’d find a quiet spot, lay down, and snooze until the next class.

I took a guitar class and played “Stay,” as one of my final assignments, and fortunately a friend took the same class with me and gave me rides home so that I wouldn’t have to carry my guitar on the bus. I remember Tami and my junk food drawer in our dorm room, and how she and I would sing Lisa Loeb’s “I Do” at night as I attempted to play it on the guitar. I also remember scoping out new VW Beetles in the school parking lot so that I could gather a collection of photos of each color of the bug. And then there was my Geology of California class where the lights were always dim because of the slide shows. One day I fell asleep and farted so loud I woke myself up. No one laughed, so maybe they didn’t hear. I loved the literature classes, but not enough to take more classes to earn an English minor.

One of the most impactful classes I took was capoeira, which I took my last semester of college. I’m embarrassed to say I’ve been doing it for 10 years off and on (more off than on) because of how little I’ve improved over that time. But it remains one of the highlights of my week, to be able to work out in a way that is really fun (but tiring) and to be surrounded by interesting and entertaining people. It has indirectly been a part of my life for so long now. Through that class, I got more interested in the Brazilian culture, traveled there twice - the second time, meeting a pretty cool guy. ;)

It’s funny how most of these memories have very little to do with my education - or even the classes in my own major. I do remember getting assigned a “beat” in one of my newswriting courses. My beat was SFSU and the surrounding Lake Merced area, so I attended meetings that had to do with stuff going on at school, I reported on local crimes, and attended community gatherings. Let me tell you. Not too much was going on around there! It was during a Copy Editing class that I discovered a talent for picking out spelling errors, extra spaces between words, and faulty design elements. That led to my becoming one of the two copy editors on the school magazine, which meant late nights in the magazine room right before the publication was published. They were a pain, but I thought, “This is the life of a journalist!” and I loved it.

Our teachers always reminded us, “If you’re going into journalism, you’re not doing it for the money.” My first job out of college, I made $24,000. When I got the job offer, I told my parents how much I was going to make. “That’s really not a lot,” my mom told me. When I calculated everything, I realized she was right - but I was merely comparing it to the meager wages I had been earning throughout college. But it was OK - because I was doing what I loved. I truly believed that - and still do.

I don’t regret only having two years at SFSU. My two years at Cosumnes River College (or Across the Street University, as it was known by Valley High students) were valuable, as well. I got my GE taken care of at a less expensive price than at SFSU, and I also got my first taste of being on a college newspaper.

My experience in SF during those years has led me to still be in love with that city. I don’t think anyone who hasn’t lived there could love it the way someone who has lived there could love it. As for college, I think I will always be a student. Even after graduating, I couldn’t resist taking a couple of classes at the local community college. Being able to learn new things is one of the best gifts you can give yourself. Today, I’m choosing not to enroll in classes, although sometimes I’m tempted. But I still think of myself as being in learning mode - even if I’m not getting graded on anything.

Whether you’re still in school, or if you’re a recent grad, or if you’ve been out of college longer than I’ve been alive, I hope you never stop learning. Find something you’ve always wanted to learn and pursue it. See life as one big learning experience, whether it means taking a class, picking up a new hobby, or just getting involved in someone’s life and learning from them. Living deep and sucking the marrow out of life doesn’t end when you become an adult. It’s a lifelong endeavor - and I hope I will always live with that intention.

I’ve heard so many mother-in-law horror stories, but I’m happy and relieved to say that I can’t relate. My mother-in-law is a loving, funny, honest, and laid-back woman, and right from the start, she has made me feel welcome in their family. Today, my mother-in-law celebrates another year of life, and I want to wish her a happy birthday!!!

4. “Rustic” loses its appeal after a few days. Matt and I are campers. We’ve gone camping every summer for the past five or so years. We have no problem with going a few days without showers, squeezing out a log in the woods, or operating by headlamp. So we didn’t bat an eye at the idea of staying at an “eco-resort” where electricity was unavailable in the rooms. I was somewhat relieved to not have phone or Internet access all week. But what we wondered most was what we would do at night. Typically on vacations, we take advantage of the cable TV that is offered in the hotels - a luxury that we don’t have at home. Movies and home decorating shows are our faves. Or if there’s no TV, there’s at least light with which to read books. In Tulum, we would have neither.

We stayed in Cancun our first night in Mexico. Unless you’re a big resort person, feel free to skip over Cancun. We stuffed ourselves silly at a Brazilian churrascaria (I know, we’re in Mexico not Brazil, but we couldn’t resist…), took a long walk (and unsuccessfully attempted to jog) on the beach. The following day, we drove south to Tulum. (BTW, despite what you hear about Mexican cops pulling over American tourists and bribing them for money, we had zero problems. In fact, the cops that we did encounter at various roadblocks were very nice.)

We stayed at a place called Cabanas Copal, which had wooden structures (cabanas) with roofs made of palm fronds. Very rustic. Despite the website’s warnings that creepy crawly critters *could* appear in your cabana, we never had any issues. We saw iguanas sunbathing outside our cabana but never inside. Ours overlooked the ocean and gave us the most beautiful sunrises every morning. Each morning, I woke up around 6:15 and saw an orange glow on the wall next to Matt’s head. The glow was a reflection of the sunrise in front of our cabana, and allowed me to figure out the approximate time, depending on if the glow was more orange or more yellow. A few of those mornings, I went outside to get photos of the sunrise over the water, and then I’d return to bed for another hour or so of sleep, smelling the salty air on my pajamas.

Because our cabana was so simple and rustic, it was expected that we’d find sand on the floor. There never was that cozy feeling of walking around your hotel room in your socks or lounging on a cushy loveseat. Even after I showered, I would still feel the grittiness of sand on my skin. And the soap and shampoo never seemed to really lather, which meant I never felt totally clean.

After a day of being out and about, we’d walk through the dark sandy paths to our cabana, lit by the moon shining through gaps in the trees overhead. It was like a scene straight out of “Lost,” except we weren’t running for our lives, and there wasn’t anyone chasing us. The paths were also dimly lit with bare lightbulbs strung through the trees, but the bulbs were scarce enough to maintain the rustic feel of the place. Once inside our cabanas, we’d put on our headlamps and light the three candles provided for us. One candle gave us light for showering and brushing our teeth; another one would light the pathway between the bedroom and the bathroom; and the third would sit on the small table near the bed. Although the candles were a little inconvenient, I absolutely loved the ambience created by their glow.

However, by the 4th night, we were getting tired of all the sand, the stickiness from being so warm, and just feeling not quite clean all the time. So we forfeited our free night at the cabana and booked a hotel in Playa del Carmen. The hotel, which looked like a decent-sized hotel on its website, exceeded our expecations. It was a pretty large facility with an amazing spa/gym facility. We only spent two days there, but most of the time was in the gym, pool, or spa. We swam in the rooftop pool, used the gym’s treadmills, and read in the outdoor jacuzzis.

Their spa also had the most amazing “locker rooms.” Matt went into the men’s locker room to use the bathroom, and when he came out, he said, “You need to check out the locker room. If yours is like mine, it’s crazy!!” Sure enough, the locker rooms were not your typical kind. Sure, there were toilets and showers, but the main area contained several cushioned lounge chairs alongside three jacuzzis, each with a different temperature.

Judging by how much we enjoyed that last hotel, we figured that for future trips, it would be best to couple more rustic places with more modern places. We did enjoy the cabanas, the candlelit nights, and the ocean sunrises, but it was definitely refreshing to end our trip at a hotel that had electricity, strong showers, and clean floors.

3. Enjoy the unplanned, unexpected surprises. I’ve mentioned before my tendency to plan, plan, and plan - especially when it comes to trips. For Na and my New York trip, I created a Googlemap that plotted out all the places (mostly restaurants) that we wanted to check out. Even a really brief weekend trip to SF last year called for the same thing. I typically know what I want to see every day and where I want to eat for each meal. Sometimes it’s a gift; sometimes it’s a curse.

This trip was a little different from previous ones. We had a couple of things planned, but each hour and each meal was not planned. We were mostly going to *gasp* wing it. It made me a little nervous because it made me wonder what we would do, but I brought plenty of books and reminded myself, “Would it really be that bad to not have anything to do except read on the beach?” (I just realized I’d rather be in a parking lot with a good book for five hours, than on a beach without a book - and not doing anything else - for five hours.)

The things we had planned included swimming with dolphins and ziplining/snorkeling in a cenote (underwater cave). And with Chichen Itza closed because of the swine flu, that was only tentatively on the schedule. What I thought would be the best part of the trip (swimming with dolphins) ended up being just ONE of the highlights, as opposed to being THE highlight. Don’t get me wrong. It was absolutely amazing to be that close to the dolphins and to touch their soft, rubbery skin. Being able to hold onto the dolphin’s fins and swim on its belly was so much fun. I know this sounds silly, but I expected a more personal connection with the dolphins (Picture the little girl in Whale Rider, or the young boy in Free Willy. I think I was expecting to be B/F/F with the dolphin after 45 minutes). However, in a group of six people, our dolphin time was carefully monitored and timed. In other words, I couldn’t just give the dolphin a bear hug every time it swam by, and I couldn’t hang onto its fin and ride around in the water.

The ziplining/snorkeling in the cenote was amazing, as well. We were only two of five people who were in the park that day - thanks to the falling U.S. economy and good ol’ overhyped swine flu. I felt horrible for the staff at the park, and heard stories about how employees had been fired because business was so slow. However, the plus side of the slow business was that we got special treatment and basically had the park to ourselves. After a 15-minute incredibly bumpy ride on the “jungle buggy,” where we tried to talk to the other couple in the car (also from Seattle) while grabbing onto the rails to keep from falling out, we arrived at our “base camp.” From there, we ziplined to our next point (for the record, if you’re going to zipline, do it in Costa Rica!!), rappelled down a hole into the cenote, climbed back out, and then ziplined back into the hole, directly into the cool waters of the cenote. That last part was totally fun. You pick up speed ziplining down into the cenote, so when you hit the water, the waves come up over you. Going backwards was even more fun because it felt even faster, and you couldn’t see the water coming. Another highlight was snorkeling through the cenote and laying on your back to see the points of the stalactites directly overhead. It was incredibly peaceful and eerily beautiful.

But what I didn’t expect - but really enjoyed - was just hanging out at the park after we were done with the ziplines and snorkeling. Right when we were going to leave, the cook in the cafe motioned us over. I honestly thought he was going to try to sell us something. Instead, he showed us a skinny snake that had just swallowed the tail of a gecko. The cook also pointed out the plump gecko who was oddly shimmying its way up a wooden post without its tail. It was basically a wiggling stump. The cook told us how an employee had been sitting in front of the computer, but as soon as he stood up, the snake dropped from the ceiling onto the ground to attack the gecko. The employee, understandably startled, made a quick exit. Because the cook was so entertaining and friendly, we stuck around longer to order some delicious tacos from him. His pico de gallo was amazing…and I thought Chipotle’s pico de gallo was good! hehe…while we sat and ate, the few other park employees gathered in the cafe for lunch. The cook retold his story of the snake and the gecko, and the other employees made fun of the guy who got scared. Sitting there with them, we felt like we were part of their intimate family.

Once we left the park, we decided on a whim to continue snorkeling. The other Seattle couple told us to check out the beaches in Akumal, about 10 minutes away. They have the best areas to snorkel, they said. So we headed out to Akumal, found a place to rent snorkel gear, and went straight into the water. My main goal for snorkeling was to see sea turtles. Trish and I had seen one or two sea turtles while snorkeling in Oahu in 1997, but more than 10 years(!) later, I was ready for a refresher. The snorkel gear employee said the turtles hung out where the seaweed was, so that’s where we headed.

Within 10 minutes, we saw our first turtle!! It was hanging out on the ocean floor, only about 5 feet below where I was floating, nibbling on seaweed. It was oblivious to us. Soon, another one swam by, with a fish hanging out on its shell, and another smaller fish trying to keep up with it. All I wanted to do was float there and watch them. All I could hear was my own breathing, and all I felt was the gentle current of the waves. And all I could see was clear blue water above and around me, white sand below me, and the turtles. Now I understand why the sea turtle in Finding Nemo talked like a surfer. If you observe the sea turtles, they seem like mellow, laid-back, go-with-the-flow creatures. At one point, we saw four all together. One went up to the surface for air. As it did so, Matt and I poked our heads above the water, saw the tip of the turtle’s head, and then dropped back below the water with the turtle. Unexpectedly seeing all those turtles in their natural habitat definitely tops my list of highlights.

Another unexpected surprise was the opening of Chichen Itza (and all the other archeological sites) halfway through our trip. Without any other plans the rest of the week, we immediately decided to drive there the next day. Because we had rented a car, we had the flexibility to take trips whenever and wherever we went - and I think that’s the way that Matt and I operate best. Matt likes to drive, and I like to go places. haha…and we seem to have fun, unplanned experiences when we travel this way…at least that has been our experience in Costa Rica, even traveling locally, and now with Mexico. Matt is a pro at maneuvering around potholes, and even better when we’re driving around them with a rental car.

I don’t know if I can always vacation this way, especially if we’re visiting places that have more things to see. But this gave me a taste of a different kind of vacation, and I certainly was not disappointed by the unplanned surprises that came our way. I just have to learn to slow down, not fill up my schedule, and be open to them.

Since 7th grade, I have been able to say that I’ve been to Mexico. But my scope of the country was limited to Ensenada and Miracle Ranch Orphanage. Even my experience in Ensenada was limited to the beach area with the statue of the head, a strip of shops and restaurants, and the showers where we got our sole shower during the weeklong missions trips.

Those memories have since become bittersweet for me, so it was refreshing to experience a different side of Mexico that had no relation to the Mexico I had known for most of my life. Matt and I recently celebrated our four-year wedding anniversary in Mexico, primarily in Tulum (about two hours south of Cancun). We actually had hoped to go earlier in the year, but after finding out that the slow (read: cheaper) season didn’t start till May, we postponed our trip to the first week of the slow season - which coincided with our anniversary. So, no, we weren’t celebrating a significant anniversary year. We’re just frugal. ;)

Rather than a daily recap of our trip, I thought I’d write about it in a more digestable format. Following the format of a recent Toastmasters speech (”Life Lessons from Costco”), I now present you with Lessons from Mexico, in no particular order. (Not necessarily “life lessons,” since most of them aren’t super deep.) And seeing how long each lesson is, I won’t write/post them all at once.

1. Don’t take things at face value. Our timing couldn’t have been more perfect. About a week or so before we were scheduled to leave for Mexico, news of the swine flu broke out. The nurse at the hospital travel clinic had given us a thick packet of info on illnesses that were prominent in Mexico. But those all went out the window when the swine flu appeared. Every day, different people at work would ask me if the trip was still on. I soon became concerned not so much for our own health, but what if we were the ones to introduce the flu to our office??

We monitored the CDC website and read the travel advisory stating that people should avoid all “non-essential travel.” Every time I heard mentions of it on the radio, I stopped what I was doing and listened intently. I pictured myself in one of those “end of the world” type movies where you’d see snippets of people around the world huddled in front of their radio, listening to news about the devastating disease or event that was going to kill them all. Canada even halted flights going to Mexico. Even on Friday morning, we were still going back and forth on the decision. The wisest thing we did was to check out the forums at tripadvisor.com and locogringo.com, as well as the blog of a Canadian woman living in Cancun. I kept tripadvisor open and refreshed the forums every few minutes, as more and more people responded about their decision to postpone or continue with their plans. “Being on the beach with a drink in my hand IS essential!” one person wrote, in response to the advisory about avoiding non-essential travel. Some people had wedding plans in Mexico, but we were fortunate enough to have the option to postpone without incurring any financial costs. (Some people suggested alternate destinations for us, and Disneyland was one of the popular ones. Take a vacation? To LA? Right.)

After reading all the forums and corresponding with people down there, we decided to go. And it was the right decision. We saw employees at the Costco in Cancun wearing masks, but we didn’t see people on the planes, in the hotels, or other businesses wearing them. One saleswoman said it was ridiculous that the news was reporting that people were returning from Cancun with swine flu, yet no cases had been reported there. Everything was running as usual, although on a much quieter scale without so many tourists. Fewer crowds? Fine by me.

2. Sunburns can be somewhat fun. See what I mean about not being deep? If you’ve read my “about taffystay” page, you know that I love to peel the skin bubbles between my toes. I can’t even remember the last time I got a sunburn, but having one now (and being in the peely stage) reminds me how much fun it can be once you get past the painfully raw stage. The splotchiness is no fun, either.

The second full day of our trip, we hung out on the beach in front of our cabana. I don’t think I’ve ever hung out on a beach very long, but on that particular day, we were there for at least five hours. We literally had nothing planned, so we parked ourselves in two chairs on the sand. I wrote up a bunch of postcards, reread a John Grisham book, and played on the boogy board.

We had applied sunblock (I, more than Matt), but apparently I missed some spots. Later on that day, we both realized we were getting quite red and sensitive on some areas of our bodies. Matt, especially, looked pretty raw, and it hurt just looking at his skin. His legs actually looked a little purple. Unfortunately, that set the mood for the rest of our trip. Although we still were able to have fun, the fact that our skin hurt even to lay on the bedsheet made the trip more physically uncomfortable than we would have liked. And, to add to the discomfort, the place where we stayed did not have electricity in the cabanas, which meant no A/C or even a ceiling fan. We had reserved a seaview cabana in hopes that the ocean breeze would cool us off at night. Well, each night, the wind was extremely strong and loud, but very little breeze entered our room. We did not play on the beach the rest of our stay, and if we anticipated being under the sun, we made sure we were well covered.

We’re both long past the painful stage (thank goodness), but we’re both still peeling. I was hoping I would only peel in areas that would always be hidden under clothes, but the peeling has extended down my arms. I don’t particularly care that it looks odd. It’s just too tempting to peel it when it’s so accessible to me. And trips to the bathroom have become quite lengthy because it’s too much fun to peel the skin on my thighs. Even Matt is addicted to peeling, and he usually has incredible self-control when it comes to things like not scratching mosquito bites or peeling his skin. Even while typing this, I’ve taken several “peel breaks.” Gotta enjoy it while it lasts. Soon enough, the tan will fade and we’ll return to the pale skin so typical of Seattleites.

Last week’s trip to Mexico was relaxing, fun, and incredibly hot (temperature-wise). But it also triggered emotions and questions about the privileged life I live vs. the financial and social struggles of many Mexicans we encountered.

There was one situation in particular to describe what I’m talking about. During our tour at Chichen Itza, our guide Mario showed us holes in the wall of one of the temples. He explained that iguanas were digging out the mortar between rocks and building their homes in the walls of the ancient ruins. A little boy, probably around 8 years old, was sitting nearby selling small models of the ruins for $1. When I had first seen him, I smiled at him, and he gave me the most beautiful smile back. I wish I had snapped a picture of him right then and there. His face has already been lost from my memory, but his smile has not been forgotten.

The boy overheard Mario and asked if there were any iguanas there. Mario replied that the iguanas had gone out for the day. The boy replied, “They went out to play?” He flashed his adorable smile at me again when he caught me listening in. It was a very quick, simple conversation, but his innocent question struck me. His comment was typical of what you would hear from a child, but here he was - spending his days selling cheesy knick-knacks to tourists at Chichen Itza when children his age should be playing, going to school, and enjoying their childhood. They shouldn’t be earning money for their family.

I wish I had taken the time to get his story or to even buy a model of Chichen Itza from him. I will always regret not doing either. Maybe he had the opportunity to go to school, but wanted to make money instead. But judging by his wares (he was only selling three small models), I highly doubt that was the case. And that led me to think about the other kids and teens we had seen around the site. If they weren’t getting an education, the likelihood of them pursuing a career and doing something more besides selling souvenirs to tourists was very slim. And that made me extremely sad. I read and write about it every day at work, but to see it before me - in the form of this little boy - haunted me.

I’m in the middle of reading The Hole in Our Gospel (yes, shameless plug for the president of my employer), and it is a really convicting, interesting read. The book talks a lot about situations afflicting the poor around the world, and what people need to be doing about it (but aren’t). In essence, Rich Stearns is building his case for why the Church specifically NEEDS to be care for starving, hurting people halfway across the country.

One section that I read while in Mexico talked about how we can use our gifts and passions to help people in dire situations - and that doesn’t mean that all of us need to fly out to remote communities in Africa to volunteer for three months. I thought about my strengths, my responsibilities at work, my passions, and felt an overwhelming sense of amazement that I was in a place where all those combine. And it also affirmed to me that I really feel a sense of calling or belonging here, even if I’m sitting in a gray cube all day. Last year marked my three-year anniversary here at WV (and four years of marriage!), and although there have been ups and downs, my desire to do what I do each day has not dwindled. The thought was humbling when I realized how fortunate I was.

As for the video below, it sort of sums up how I was feeling in Mexico, as well as the overall message of Rich’s book.

Way better than the ANTM clip with capoeira…check this video out:

This cover of Stand By Me was recorded by completely unknown artists in a street virtual studio all around the world. It all started with a base track—vocals and guitar—recorded on the streets of Santa Monica, California, by a street musician called Roger Ridley. The base track was then taken to New Orleans, Louisiana, where Grandpa Elliott—a blind singer from the French Quarter—added vocals and harmonica while listening to Ridley’s base track on headphones. In the same city, Washboard Chaz’s added some metal percussion to it.

And from there, it just gets rock ‘n’ rolling bananas: The producers took the resulting mix all through Europe, Africa, and South America, adding new tracks with multiple instruments and vocals that were assembled in the final version you are seeing in this video. All done with a simple laptop and some microphones. (Jesus Diaz, Gizmodo, April 28, 2009)