It’s been awhile. I have, for the most part, settled into my new home in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. My home is a bubbling hub for community and friendship, and a home that I confidently say I am proud to be a part of. I wasn’t planning on working for this month and a half before my trips to Las Vegas, and then Italy, but work somehow found me. I am, to say the least, thankful. I have been taking care of a little 20 month old girl called Olivia 3-4 times a week. It seems that I am daily amazed by her animated little personality. Her faces, her babble, her humor, blow me away. I have also really enjoyed getting to know her mother, who is a good friend of Danielle’s. It’s been amazing to see her strength, courage and composure over the last month, as Olivia’s father passed away a few days before Christmas. I wasn’t planning on continuing in the “nanny business”, but I am increasingly thankful, on many levels, for this little surprise. If you live in Philly, or somewhere close, you should come out to Johnny Brenda’s on Sunday night (Feb 3) for a memorial/benefit show to remember Steve, and help out his family.

I’ve begun to read a book called “Three Cups of Tea”. It’s the story of Greg Mortenson, a mountaineer who, in his failed attempt to climb K2, came upon an impoverished Pakistani village in the Karakoram Mountains. The story follows him through his failure to conquer the massive mountain while eventually finding his joy in building schools (especially for girls) in impoverished Pakistani villages in the “forbidding terrain that gave birth to the Taliban”.

Danielle and Lindsey are in Nashville this weekend, leaving me to fend for myself back here in Philly. With my wide-open schedule, I decided I’d treat myself to my favorite breakfast place in Philly, and possibly elsewhere in the world--- Honey’s. As I sat there eating my two eggs, toast, home fries drenched in salsa, and coffee, I tore through the pages of my new book. I was enveloped in the stories of the Himalayas and mountain climbing. Comforted by stories about the Pakistani/Muslim culture, so similar to the ones I’ve experienced myself in India, Nepal and Egypt. I sat there in Honey’s, a place I dreamt about so desperately while I was gone, only to find that when sitting there this morning I was longing to be on the rugged, dangerous roads of Pakistan, mobbing through the Himalayas, drinking cup after cup of chai, wearing wool scarves and the smell of curry, hearing the call to prayer, and embracing the peace of a simple life. I laughed to myself as I realized how romantic I make things. I remembered, quite realistically my own journey through the foothills of the Himalayas in Nepal, and being so utterly terrified I wrapped my scarf around my head as not to see the deadly cliffs we teetered so close to. I try to recall how frozen I was at just 20 degrees when it snowed in Philadelphia last week. I laugh at the idea of attempting to climb at temperatures much less forgiving than that. I also can’t say I’m willing to give up my daily warm shower just yet… So, today I’ve been trying to delve into the beautyl of my reality presently.

I live in Philadelphia. At times I wonder if our neighborhood is not more like a developing nation than it is North Philly. Its streets are littered with rubbish, needles in the gutters, and dark allies you avoid. Drug deals, drug busts, and drug offers are common, as we live next to the largest drug corner in Philly. Abandoned, dilapidated buildings are found every few blocks, as well as the chains of poverty. The “el” (elevated train) runs right next to our house, and can be seen and heard from my second story window. I ride my bike under its shadow on my way to work, or if the weather is bad, I ride in its warm and crowded cars. Some days if I allow my imagination to run, I could be right back in Garbage City in Egypt. I am ever aware of my color, gender, and over all appearance. I am ever cautious and aware of my surroundings. It is in these times, when I realize my surroundings are quite similar to those of my travels, that I find myself at peace. Though the scenery of poverty and addiction can be intimidating I’ve found people are actually quite kind. My apprehension to venture out into our streets alone has slowly dwindled over the last month, as my preconceptions of my neighbors have been daily proved wrong.

I so often want the romance of traveling to exotic lands, and encountering exotic people. I find it incredible that I can look out my front door and find the complexity of humanity right there in front of me. There are people of different races, speaking different languages, having grown up in vastly different worlds, with drastically different worldviews. They are people so different, yet so inherently similar to me. I suppose this is why I travel, to take in this baffling mystery of humanity, and to take in its beauty, even in its flaws.

I’m still working out the kinks of the last bit-- its “flaws”. I continue to struggle daily with the problem of pain and evil in the world and how it relates to a “God of love”. But today I will choose to look past the vast space of questions and choose to see humanity in her raw and damaged beauty, choose to believe there is more, and that there is hope. Instead of longing to be in the Himalayas I will look at the beautiful shades of brick that line the streets; I will admire the pink cheeks of winter on people passing by; and I will love that I live in Philadelphia, a world far different than the one I was born into, yet still so wonderfully similar.

I leave for Las Vegas in a bit over a week. I’m going to help out the Broyles again, as they go to Pool a fashion tradeshow with there clothing company “Something Sacred”. I look forward to reconnecting with these dear friends.

A few days after I return from Las Vegas, I head out to Italy to visit my brother Chris with my Dad, step-mom and aunt. I am looking forward to seeing all of these loved ones, as well as the beautiful historic sights of Italy. I will return to Philadelphia at the end of February to really settle down, and start digging my roots…something that scares me and excites me all in one breath.

Peace be with you.