Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Rough Draft #3
The Rickety
When looking downwards, one could only see the past of a great adventure. What I saw, was a future of meaning. Traveling is one thing that my family is known for. About four years ago, (the summer of 2004) I realized that there is more to the world than meets the eye. I decided this when crossing an old train bridge that conjoined the border line between
It was about 11 am and waking up to the sound of a squawking bird, I remember what had lay behind us, the six hour bus ride holding the maximum 25 passengers including the frantic chicken who had just woke me up. "Here we are, the border. You will be guided across the bridge and will then, be picked up on the other side by another bus," the bus driver said in a hurrying tone as we came to a stop at the misplaced border which had looked as if it was used as a bomb target. Guided, I thought, what is it about that word that just seems awkward in that sentence? For this was not an ordinary bridge, what I was standing on looked like two by fours on top of steel bars, trying to create some what of a path. I knew that this kind of experience was one to thank my mom for.
At this point, my brain just shut off. All of the thoughts just drained out except for one thing about the reason why I was here. Lost. Misplaced maybe. I remember that long and miserable bridge, the one across the alligator infested, frigid water which seemed to get more familiar by the minute. It was not until the middle of this adventure when I looked down and realized that the figures, (100 feet below us) were actually people.
As I stepped off of the bridge, I looked back, amazed to see what we had accomplished. However, I was later implied that this journey was not over yet. When we entered the office to get stamps in our passports, we were told that my cousin's passport had not been stamped in
Sure enough, my uncle had simply handed us the wrong passport so he only had to give us the other one but if you know my uncle, you know that sometimes things go wrong. We were there for an hour. Soon enough it was getting dark. I remember that feeling of isolation, not knowing whether or not to speak for comfort, or stay cool and keep my mouth shut. Finally, my mom came back, bringing with her a sense of relief. After the frantic hurdle of taking two more buses and a taxi, we got to my mom’s friends house.
Finally, we arrived at home.
Obviously, third world countries can be quite confusing as you can see, not everyone has it as easy as we do. For after my experience, I have learned to to be grateful for what I have. Sometimes, I look at a normal train bridge and think of it more as a gift than something you take for granted. So overall, memories are in peoples' hearts take this adventure for instance, the one true thing that makes it have so much value is that it was something that no one else has had because I did it. That is what is so special about memories; there is only one of them.
Friday, April 11, 2008
Rough Draft #2
The Rickety Old Bridge
When looking donwards, one could only see the past of a great adventure. What I saw, was a future of meaning. Traveling is one thing that my family is known for. We are always somewhere in the sumer and I know that I am lucky. About four years ago, (the summer of 2004) I realized that there is more to the world than meets the eye. I decided this when crossing an old train bridge that conjoined the boarder line between Costa Rica and Panama.
It was about 11 am and waking up to the sound of a squawking bird, I remember what had lay behind us, the six hour bus ride holding the maximum 25 passengers including the frantic chicken who had just woke me up. "Here we are, the boarder. You will be guided across the bridge and will then, be picked up on the other side by another bus," the bus driver said in a hurrying tone as we came to a stop at the misplaced boarder which had looked as if it was used as a bomb target. Guided, I thought, what is it about that word that just seems awkward in that sentence? I mean if it was the old nun that seemed to have third degree sunburns on her face that that bus driver was talking about then I sure hope that he was mistaken. For this was not an ordinary bridge, what I was standing on looked like two by fours on top of steel bars, trying to create some what of a path. I knew that this kind of experience was one to thank my mom for.
At this point, my brain just shut off. All of the thoughts just drained out except for one thing about the reason why I was here. Lost. Misplaced maybe. I remember that long and miserable bridge, the one across the alligator infested, frigid water which seemed to get more familiar by the minute. It was not until the middle of this adventure when I looked down and realized that the figures, (100 feet below us) were actually people.
As I stepped off of the bridge, I looked back, amazed to see what we had accomplished. However, I was later implied that this journey was not over yet. When we entered the office to get stamps in our passports, we were told that my cousin's passport had not been stamped in Costa Rica so she and my mom had to go back over the bridge and receive her passport from my uncle who had her diplomatic passport which she used when she got to Costa Rica. This meant that we were to be left in this run down border shack. We were in limbo, out of Costa Rica and not in Panama.
Sure enough, my uncle had simply handed us the wrong passport so he only had to give us the other one but if you know my uncle, you know that sometimes things go wrong. We were told that the reason we were there for an hour alone was because he accidentally misplaced it. Soon enough it was getting dark. I remember that feeling of isolation, not knowing whether or not to speak for comfort, or stay cool and keep my mouth shut. Finally, my mom came back, bringing with her a sense of relief. We were soon at my mom's friend's house after taking two buses and a taxi. Finally, we're home.
Obviously, third world countries can be quite confusing as you can see, not everyone has it as easy as we do. For after my experience, I have learned to to be grateful for what I have. Sometimes, I look at a normal train bridge and think of it more as a gift than something you take for granite. So overall, memories are in peoples' hearts take this adventure for instance, the one true thing that makes it have so much value is that it was something that no one else has had because I did it. That is what is so special about memories, there is only one of them.
It was about 11 am and waking up to the sound of a squawking bird, I remember what had lay behind us, the six hour bus ride holding the maximum 25 passengers including the frantic chicken who had just woke me up. "Here we are, the boarder. You will be guided across the bridge and will then, be picked up on the other side by another bus," the bus driver said in a hurrying tone as we came to a stop at the misplaced boarder which had looked as if it was used as a bomb target. Guided, I thought, what is it about that word that just seems awkward in that sentence? I mean if it was the old nun that seemed to have third degree sunburns on her face that that bus driver was talking about then I sure hope that he was mistaken. For this was not an ordinary bridge, what I was standing on looked like two by fours on top of steel bars, trying to create some what of a path. I knew that this kind of experience was one to thank my mom for.
At this point, my brain just shut off. All of the thoughts just drained out except for one thing about the reason why I was here. Lost. Misplaced maybe. I remember that long and miserable bridge, the one across the alligator infested, frigid water which seemed to get more familiar by the minute. It was not until the middle of this adventure when I looked down and realized that the figures, (100 feet below us) were actually people.
As I stepped off of the bridge, I looked back, amazed to see what we had accomplished. However, I was later implied that this journey was not over yet. When we entered the office to get stamps in our passports, we were told that my cousin's passport had not been stamped in Costa Rica so she and my mom had to go back over the bridge and receive her passport from my uncle who had her diplomatic passport which she used when she got to Costa Rica. This meant that we were to be left in this run down border shack. We were in limbo, out of Costa Rica and not in Panama.
Sure enough, my uncle had simply handed us the wrong passport so he only had to give us the other one but if you know my uncle, you know that sometimes things go wrong. We were told that the reason we were there for an hour alone was because he accidentally misplaced it. Soon enough it was getting dark. I remember that feeling of isolation, not knowing whether or not to speak for comfort, or stay cool and keep my mouth shut. Finally, my mom came back, bringing with her a sense of relief. We were soon at my mom's friend's house after taking two buses and a taxi. Finally, we're home.
Obviously, third world countries can be quite confusing as you can see, not everyone has it as easy as we do. For after my experience, I have learned to to be grateful for what I have. Sometimes, I look at a normal train bridge and think of it more as a gift than something you take for granite. So overall, memories are in peoples' hearts take this adventure for instance, the one true thing that makes it have so much value is that it was something that no one else has had because I did it. That is what is so special about memories, there is only one of them.
Monday, April 7, 2008
Leads
Here are some leads that I am thinking about using for my memoir. I have come up with a broad image for what the final version will look like. Please leave a comment for which one you think is a winner.
Anomonapia:
Errk! The two hour bus ride, had finally come to a rest as we reached our destination. However, this was not the end. We were about to face not only a quarter mile long, 100 foot drop old train bridge on foot, but we were going to lead our lives on an adventure.
Posing Question:
Have you ever come to think of a moment in time where you felt that you were watching yourself do something and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't turn back? To me, these are moments that are very familiar because I believe, that life is an adventure and you are always doing something
Spoken Words:
"Here we are, the boarder. You will be guided across the bridge and will then, be picked up on the other side by another bus." Guided, I thought, what is it about that word that just seems awkward in that sentence? I mean if it was the old nun that seemed to have third degree sunburns on her face that that bus driver was talking about then I sure hope that he was mistaken. For this was not an ordinary bridge, what I was standing on looked like two by fours on top of steel bars, trying to create some what of a path.
Setting The Mood:
At foot, one could only see the past of a great adventure. What I saw, was a future of great meaning.
Arresting Sentence:
One always comes to think of an interesting activity in which they are somewhat involved in. Four summers ago, a simple bridge crossing, changed the way I take things for granite.
Errk! The two hour bus ride, had finally come to a rest as we reached our destination. However, this was not the end. We were about to face not only a quarter mile long, 100 foot drop old train bridge on foot, but we were going to lead our lives on an adventure.
Posing Question:
Have you ever come to think of a moment in time where you felt that you were watching yourself do something and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't turn back? To me, these are moments that are very familiar because I believe, that life is an adventure and you are always doing something
Spoken Words:
"Here we are, the boarder. You will be guided across the bridge and will then, be picked up on the other side by another bus." Guided, I thought, what is it about that word that just seems awkward in that sentence? I mean if it was the old nun that seemed to have third degree sunburns on her face that that bus driver was talking about then I sure hope that he was mistaken. For this was not an ordinary bridge, what I was standing on looked like two by fours on top of steel bars, trying to create some what of a path.
Setting The Mood:
At foot, one could only see the past of a great adventure. What I saw, was a future of great meaning.
Arresting Sentence:
One always comes to think of an interesting activity in which they are somewhat involved in. Four summers ago, a simple bridge crossing, changed the way I take things for granite.
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
Rough Draft #1
The Rickety Old Bridge
One always comes to think of unforgettable experiences which they are some what involved in. Four summers ago, (the summer of 2004) I experienced the most exiting, creepy and dangerous things all at once just by crossing an old train bridge that stood over a river which conjoined both Costa Rica and Panama.
It was about 11 am and not knowing exactly where I awoke, I remembered what lay behind us; the 6 hour bus ride holding the maximum 25 passengers including a chicken who now lay resting on it's owner's lap. "We are now arriving to the border, this is where you will be picked up by another bus on the other side of that bridge." This is what I heard the bus driver say in Spanish but I only caught the last few words due to my awakening sister. As we got off of the loud, yet subtle bus, (all seven of us including my three sisters, my mom, my cousin, my uncle who was not actually coming along but wanted to stay until we crossed the boarder and me) we gasped at the boarder that had laid ahead of us well at least what was left of it, for what we had realized was that in order to get to Panama, we had to cross a quarter mile long, broken down train bridge that was missing every third railroad tie. I knew that this kind of experience was one to thank my mom for.
As we set off for our trip across the alligator infested, frigid water, I was truly astonished that out of nowhere an old nun helped us get across this dangerous bridge. The thing was, that with all of the luggage that all of us had to carry, it was lucky enough that even one of us kept it all. It was not until the middle of this adventure when I looked down, I realized that the alligators were people (300 feet below) and that I was actually half way to the other side of the bridge. At this point, I kind of zoned off not sure what I was supposed to do when I got off. In the end, I made it without dropping anything or anyone but I am still amazed. In the end, I looked back, amazed to see what we accomplished however, I later learned that it was not over yet. When we got to the office to get the stamps in our passports and enter Panama, we were told that my cousin's passport had not been stamped in Costa Rica so she and my mom had to go back over the bridge and receive her passport from my uncle who had her diplomatic passport which she used when she got to Costa Rica. This meant that we were to be left in this run down border shack. We were in limbo, out of Costa Rica and not in Panama.
Sure enough, my uncle had simply handed us the wrong passport so he only had to give us the other one but if you know my uncle, you know that sometimes things go wrong. We were told that the reason we were there for an hour alone was because he accidentally misplaced it. Soon enough it was getting dark. I remember that feeling of isolation, not knowing whether or not to speak for comfort, or stay cool and keep my mouth shut. Soon enough, my mom came back, bringing with her a sense of relief. We were soon at my mom's friend's house after taking two buses and a taxi. Finally, we're home.
Obviously, third world countries can be quite confusing as you can see, not everyone has it as easy as we do. For after my experience, I have learned to to be grateful for what I have. Sometimes, I look at a normal train bridge and think of it more as a gift than something you take for granite. So overall, memories are in peoples' hearts take this adventure for instance, the one true thing that makes it have so much value is that it was something that no one else has had because I did it. That is what is so special about memories, there is only one of them.
It was about 11 am and not knowing exactly where I awoke, I remembered what lay behind us; the 6 hour bus ride holding the maximum 25 passengers including a chicken who now lay resting on it's owner's lap. "We are now arriving to the border, this is where you will be picked up by another bus on the other side of that bridge." This is what I heard the bus driver say in Spanish but I only caught the last few words due to my awakening sister. As we got off of the loud, yet subtle bus, (all seven of us including my three sisters, my mom, my cousin, my uncle who was not actually coming along but wanted to stay until we crossed the boarder and me) we gasped at the boarder that had laid ahead of us well at least what was left of it, for what we had realized was that in order to get to Panama, we had to cross a quarter mile long, broken down train bridge that was missing every third railroad tie. I knew that this kind of experience was one to thank my mom for.
As we set off for our trip across the alligator infested, frigid water, I was truly astonished that out of nowhere an old nun helped us get across this dangerous bridge. The thing was, that with all of the luggage that all of us had to carry, it was lucky enough that even one of us kept it all. It was not until the middle of this adventure when I looked down, I realized that the alligators were people (300 feet below) and that I was actually half way to the other side of the bridge. At this point, I kind of zoned off not sure what I was supposed to do when I got off. In the end, I made it without dropping anything or anyone but I am still amazed. In the end, I looked back, amazed to see what we accomplished however, I later learned that it was not over yet. When we got to the office to get the stamps in our passports and enter Panama, we were told that my cousin's passport had not been stamped in Costa Rica so she and my mom had to go back over the bridge and receive her passport from my uncle who had her diplomatic passport which she used when she got to Costa Rica. This meant that we were to be left in this run down border shack. We were in limbo, out of Costa Rica and not in Panama.
Sure enough, my uncle had simply handed us the wrong passport so he only had to give us the other one but if you know my uncle, you know that sometimes things go wrong. We were told that the reason we were there for an hour alone was because he accidentally misplaced it. Soon enough it was getting dark. I remember that feeling of isolation, not knowing whether or not to speak for comfort, or stay cool and keep my mouth shut. Soon enough, my mom came back, bringing with her a sense of relief. We were soon at my mom's friend's house after taking two buses and a taxi. Finally, we're home.
Obviously, third world countries can be quite confusing as you can see, not everyone has it as easy as we do. For after my experience, I have learned to to be grateful for what I have. Sometimes, I look at a normal train bridge and think of it more as a gift than something you take for granite. So overall, memories are in peoples' hearts take this adventure for instance, the one true thing that makes it have so much value is that it was something that no one else has had because I did it. That is what is so special about memories, there is only one of them.
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