Nostalgic Nights

My younger, bigger brother is with me (well he is actually fast asleep on my bedroom floor at the moment) but he flew over the large pond from the Yankee side of the world to come to South Africa, to come see me.

Our days have been leisurely and lovely – with the Billabong Pro having off days the past two days it has allowed me to give my full attention to Kellen (and Gunner his mate who joined him for this African adventure). Yesterday, their first day here in Jbay was quite chill – showing them around the town and teaching them as much as I could about South African culture.

While today got off to a chill start, and a walk to the beach this afternoon - it was topped off at the lion park (which was amazing) and then we drove onward to PE for the premiere of Soul Surfer (that we, CSA, were hosting) that went amazing as well. So our time in the sunshine has been enjoyable and relaxing so far.

But my time in the night may be my favorite with my little brother. We grew up sharing a room for years, with our bunk beds we would always stay awake late into the nights, either laughing or annoying one another. And now here I find us – sharing a room, again – ages 22 and 21 and on the other side of the world. On the other side of life.

These night times definitely bring me into a bit of a nostalgic state, so thankful for my childhood, for my family, for my brother. Kellen and I both have a ridiculous habit of sleep talking – sleep talking a lot and quite loud actually. So the first night with my American brother in my African home consisted of us waking one another up with our random dreamy bursts and both of us shooting up in our beds, talking in our sleepy state to one another or to ourselves; I guess we’ll never know. A habit formed because of our late night shenanigans as kids; possibly.

And night two didn’t necessarily give me nostalgia for those past childhood days – or make me reminisce on the attributes my brother and I share. But it made me thankful for the people we are today and for the friendship we have developed. Sharing our hearts we talked about life and things we don’t tell others and then to cap off our ‘goodnight-sleep tights’ we prayed (just like those childhood days). But instead of it beginning with ‘now I lay me down to sleep…’ it began with a little more maturity, a little more vulnerability.

I love South Africa. I love surfing. But those things do not match up to the love I have in my heart for my baby brother. I want him to be on every adventure I take for the rest of my life, I want him to have the best and nothing less, I want to know his entire heart and bear all of his burdens.

But for tonight I will sleep soundly – because I am warm in my African home after a day of playing with lions and I have my brother sound asleep right by my side.

Road, show me africa

And so it has carried on. The days have continued, never stopping even in the midst of trials, tribulations, challenges, pleasures, beauty – anything can happen, from death to birth and I feel as if it all has happened within these last 6 months. And none of the events, the occurrences, the people – have made time stop or slow down.

Roy (CSA’s national director, my boss, the man who lives in the flat above me with a beautiful wife & two insane blonde children) had an idea to do a Road Show, to travel up and down South Africa’s coast line – visiting Son Surf clubs, encouraging leaders, running surf competitions and showing Christian surfer films. As the planning went along, more and more holes began to open up, causing a hectic planning period far from the ideal ‘Road Show’ event. Everything, from no vehicle to massive waves, to awful weather, to a tight budget – created an experience I think none of our staff will forget: the first ever trial run for South Africa’s Road Show Tour.

Our first stop was Mossel Bay, a place known for sharks and a rad downtown vibe and great history. So we headed west on the garden route our team split into 3 different vehicles, with another vehicle headed east from Cape Town to meet us. We arrived in cold rain and mammoth size waves. Just in time though to head down the stairs to the basement of a local surf shop where we had our first event: a Son Skate jam session. I think we were all surprised and stoked at how well this event turned out, loads of kids with a couple great skaters who grinded the small ramp and a couple beginners who left snot stains at the bottom. With loads of skating and prizes to hand out we had a blast and then closed our evening with showing the groms the ‘Walking on Water’ dvd and launching CSA’s new ‘When a Surf/Skater gets saved’ promos.

The next day – the surf competition day – was cancelled due to messy, massive waves. So free day for the staff. Had sushi at a pub and a family-vibe night at the house we stayed at. The next day we made it to church, where Roy preached, then headed to the beach for some lunch, sun and surf before getting back on the road to head back to Jbay. And as we headed east, so did the rain.

A few days passed and we were back on that African tar, this time we had 3 cars – one, the one I was in, was myself and 6 men. So all seven of us packed like sardines made the drive to East London. The EL weekend couldn’thave gone more perfect, Friday night we had the opening function – with Janie Bay as entertainment and food and filling in on Saturday’s event.

Saturday the sun shone all day, giving us an American spring day in this south African winter. All day long the sun shone, the waves came in and the surfers had a blast, it was a perfect surf competition – with everything running smoothly and everyone smiling. That night we had the prize giving and the closing function, filled with coffee and chatter to top off the sharing of the gospel and the prize awards. A perfect day followed by a perfect Sunday – off to church (by the way this was a small local church with the entire back wall as a giant window which overlooked a beautiful river and large hills – a beautiful scenery to worship in) after church we had a relaxing Sunday afternoon, filled with naps, walks, surfs, and some rain just in time for our braai.

Monday to Thursday we called the Mdumbi Backpackers home. With tribal huts as our sleeping domain and a small café to keep us out of the noon rain.

I’ve been up South Africa’s entire west coast, up to the northern border – and it was indeed beautiful. And this, the eastern cape, the Transkei can’t really be compared to that, because it was so gravely different in sight and culture but it was indeed just as beautiful. We had to take our 4x4 up and through the back roads, through the gravel and dirt that was dispersed around the pot holes. Taking these barely made roads, we traveled through mountains to get to the top of the Mdumbi. There our backpackers sat, just barely separated from the local tribes and indeginous lifestyle that still exists there. In our little huts we could overlook the sea below, as the hills climbed on forever so did the swells in the ocean’s tide. Every day was full of surfing for part of our group and every night was full of conversation by the fire side that filled our indie, hippie wood carved café with smoke. And every night the stars came out to dance, so glorious and bright and innumerable.

So there’s the outline – just the outline as to what our little adventure of a road show looked like. But within this outline there were many things that happened, many and a plenty things that made this trip unique to the individuals on it and the people we met along the way. So next to come: some colour for this picture.

This picture was taken in Mossel Bay - just around the corner from where our surf competition would have taken place.

This is the judges stand for the East London 'Jesus Retro' surf competition

The roads we took through the Transkei to get to Mdumbi & the backpackers we stayed at

And this is where we surfed - and the beach I ran along in the morning - in Mdumbi

My name is Jordan. and I'm addicted to my suitcase.

Journey Junkie. That's my title right? I mean the title of my blog, this blog. Or is it the title for my life? Am I junkie for journeys? Addicted to the vagabond lifestyle, addicted to the travels and experiences that come with serendipitty and surprise. Maybe.

Tonight I am getting on a bus ride. Another bus ride, another drive that departs at twilight and arrives at sunrise. This is the fourth night ride I've had in a couple short weeks. Tonight I'm going back to where I started. Well, scratch that, where I began is about 3 nights non-stop travel by plane and car away.Tonight I'm returning to Jeffreys Bay.

I feel like I hit the ground running a few months ago and it hasn't stopped. I left Jbay and traveled to Cape Town and then hit Namibia. That journey was amazing, beautiful, eye-opening, riveting, encouraging. (that journey will be explained with a few more details later). But let me tell you, the people of Namibia are some of the most beautiful people I have ever encountered, the desert dunes so desolate and obscure, and yet enchanting and inticing (which is why I boarded down them) the waves with unknown and unpredictable swell, but beautiful lefts and completely isolated from towns and other surfers (which is why I boarded them). We worked with the poorest of the poor - orphans in a lost mining town outside of Swakopmund. And we worked with the richest of the rich - engineers descended from Germany with mansions on the shore line. It was a journey, if nothing else.

And then I found myself back in Cape Town - for a few days (although the only thing I recall from the days are the knots in my stomach due to Joplin's current situation). And then I was in Strand and Somerset West, suburbs outside of Cape Town. Where I helped run a surf competition, the 3rd annual one of its kind, loaded with all different surfers from open longboard, to twin fin, to moms, to veterans and more. Unfortunately that surf tourney was also loaded with clouds, wind and rain.

And so now.... Now I'm back in Cape Town. After many journeys - starting yet another - and still, unbelieveably there are journeys my heart is still longing for. You would think one would be ready for home, for proper home. After traveling so much, and considering the last time I was in the closest thing I have to a home was 5 months ago. Yes, I wish I could plant a garden, I wish I was in one place for a long enough time to paint the walls. I have no place to rest my head and I can go through the beds I have slept on the past 4 years, cots, futons, couches, floors, every bed I've been on has comforted many visitors before me, every bed not holding me for more than 6 months. So longings stir. But if someone walked up to me today, offered me a plane ticket to journey the world and its cultures with no ending point, I can't stay I would decline their offer.

Junkie? seems like it. for the journey? definitely. Jeffreys Bay - I'm on my way.

joplin.

(This was written last week, written around 3am, a few days after I found out about the tornado hitting Joplin, a night I couldn't sleep because of Joplin)

We had just finished driving through the night. Just completed a 21 hour drive through southern Namibia and northern South Africa, driving along the western coastline, driving along a variety of terrain with our surfboards strapped to our 4x4. 8:00am we arrive back in Cape Town, home for the 4 men I was traveling with. Cape Town is not my home, South Africa is not my home - 10:00am I sat in awestruck at what was currently happening in my hometown.

I wasn't raised in Joplin, I just spent a little over 4 years there in that small, south-west city. I moved there for college. But it didn't take long for Joplin to become my "home" - my Nebraskan parents even referred to JoMo as my home. And so did, so does my heart. Joplin is where my community is, I learned that city like the back of my hand, I grew there, struggled there, found God there, matured there, found myself there, found family there. I found a home in that mid-western city, tri-state junction.

Today my home is destroyed and I am over 9,500 miles away from it. There is nothing I can do, my hands cannot sort through rubbish and rubble, my arms cannot comfort another, my words cannot soothe pain, my legs cannot walk the barren streets, my eyes cannot see the devastation and destruction, my lungs cannot breathe the tainted oxygen that has been so defiled from the wreckage of materials. Because I am not there, I am not in my home.

I can't imagine what my friends, community, family saw on May 22. I can image the dark billows of clouds rolling in, the winds picking up with rage and envy, the sirens screaming with warning. I can taste the thickness of the air. I can imagine the beginning, because I was raised in tornado alley. I cannot imagine being on Range Line, where the tornado walked, where I drove just a few months ago. I can't imagine the foundations being picked up, thrown and skewed like mere rag dolls. I cannot imagine the fear that would settle in my soul, or the screams that my throat would release. I cannot imagine the place my hometown is now. The desperation among the devastation, the hopelessness among the dis-mantled humanity. I cannot imagine the world my community is now living in - for the world I am living in is now so far separated from my loved ones.

My heart yearns for my loves, for my Joplin, my heart is burning with pain for the hurt that has been planted, my heart is mourning for the loss my community is facing. I feel as if the winds of the tornado stretched from Missouri, pulling out every fiber of my soul, pulling my entire support system out from my beating heart. Joplin, a world of collisions - people collided there - ask anyone who lived there, none of us ever understood how the band of characters formed there, because it was a glorious community we created. Joplin was not just a collision of hot and cold air systems to create a twister turmoil but a collision of cultures to create a unique, grab-ahold-of-you city.

I am so sorry Joplin. So sorry for what you are facing; for the world you are now in, for the collision you now stand in, for what your eyes are seeing, for what your hands are feeling, for what your feet are stepping on, for what your heart is having to bare. I am so sorry I am not there to hold and carry this burden caused by a natural disaster, this burden that has changed lives and will take years to heal.

But I know my Joplin. I know the hearts that roam those scavenged street. And in the midst of that devastation I know the hope is growing, that is flourishing. As easily as I can see the on-coming of a tornado I can just as easily see the unification that is forming. The stand my community is taking, the hope they are spreading, the healing they are giving. I can see the beauty of the hearts that are joining together to fight, to survive among the rolling rubbish. I can see it clearly, even 9,500 miles away.

When the rain is blowing, when the whole world is watching, I hope you feel my embrace. I will hold you every second of everyday, through the only arms I can. Through arms of prayer. I hope you feel Jesus. I hope you feel my love, His love. The storms have raged and will return, the winds have changed and the clouds have stayed. But sitting in the debris of the world's petrified perversion there lies a sacred society. But in the midst of the turmoil of the trials of the world, take heart and feel His overcoming love. Take hold of His relentless love, relentless healing. He's coming to the ground to sing a lullaby to you, his beloved. I am beckoning to the King of Kings on your behalf. I am shedding tears for you, I am begging the messiah to give grace to His beloved Joplin.

Take Heart Joplin - This is not the end, but a brand new beginning. Find Hope in the rubbish, for He lays there, waiting to heal you.



(like I said I wrote this on the 24th of May and now it is June - this is the truth of my heart - but even in the short period of from the day I wrote this to today. I don't think I even imagined the unification that Joplin would incorporate when resurrected Joplin. The people, the hearts have come together, binded together to fight - to bring healing. I still want to be there, I am still hurting over the destruction and longing to bring a helping hand - but I have so much confidence, and peace in my heart today. Because my Joplin, my community has prevailed - and in the midst of the storm they have brought the sun.)

Next stop Namibia

I haven't felt too busy or overwhelmed or too engrossed by pesky productivity here - At least I haven't felt those emotions, nor have I been obsessively occupied here the way I was at home. The United States has a different work ethic than the rest of the world, we have no restraint on our productivity - even if it's worthless and slow suicide. I have yet to feel that fussy, rushed feeling here that American society burdened on my life. Then again I know all that blame cannot be put on my country alone, but on myself as well. For that ridiculous unsettled irritation that lived within me, came out shouting whenever

I found an open slot in my schedule.

So here, in my new season, in my current home,

it has been very relaxing, very slow - yet productive.

And I look back over the last 112 days that I have spent here in South Africa's surf and a lot

has happened for me. I was able to participate in multiple learning environments from a variety of instructors - in order to gain knowledge and wisdom. I traveled the 681 kilometers from the eastern cape to the western cape. I have surfed in waters ranging in a temperature, from bearable to having my hands and feet blue and numb. Surfing in Strand I had the sun shining down on me, surrounded by locals with the wind whipping all of us across the face of those waves - gazing at the mountain range as it stood strong in it's beauty cradling the city along it's valleys.

I toured a winery and a township - seeing firsthand the extreme differences in cultures here in South Africa - between the whites and the blacks, between the conservatives and the radicals, between the rich and the poor, the old and the new... The harshness that separates the classes here is not a fine line, the extreme differences between personalities, world-views, and upbringings is acute and maximal. And yet it is the rainbow nation. And so different from every other country on our planet.

I have worked behind the stages, helping create structure and continue sustainability in the Aleph program as well as the National Conference;

One which has made me fall in love with 14 local boys, who's eyes are big and age is juvenile, who's tongues are sharp and experiences in abundance for their youth. Street boys, township boys, rude and respectful, scared and strong, full of fear, full of potential. My heart burns when I pray for them.

Being integrated in the infrastructure

here has made me fall in love with surfers, skaters and south africans.

I already loved surfing, skating and South Africa - but these days have attached me to the individuals behind the board.

I see individuals who love their sports, they find their identity on boards - individuals who are harsh and brash, who are too independent for their own good, individuals who know community, individuals who have souls that are being damaged by the world, who's flesh is being damaged by concrete waves. I see individuals who love - whether it's friends, their board, the Lord - they understand love and dedication.

And now After 112 days of living in South Africa's sun, I'm venturing out of South Africa. I leave Jeffreys Bay soon and then I depart from Cape Town Saturday morning headed towards Namibia. Swakopmond, Namibia that is. Driving up the entire West Coast of South Africa, 4 others and myself will go 2,114 kilometers from where I currently sit, outside of these border lines, placed on Africa's west coastline, placed in the middle of a massive desert. I am leaving Jbay, alone, to set out on this journey - because the experience was not just me leaving America, alone, the experience is life.

So while I'm on an adventure, I'm jumping on this vagabond wagon and and veering towards this new escapade. Because its the experience within the experience - and what you take from that, what you allow to shape and mold you from that experience - those are the exciting adventures, those are the escapades that color life!

See you in Namibia!

Sea wandering

This morning I awoke, read a bit and hit that pavement that curves all around J-bay. The hilly pavement led me astray to the sanded shore. As I walked up over a hill I sat, cradled in the sand watching a storm move on and another move in. The gray colors in the sky blended into one another overtaking the blue hues. With the billows beckoning to the sea, to mirror it’s heaviness.

I sat there, with the crisp chilled wind blowing across my face, burning my bare legs. I sat there on the shore, so far from home, where the water meets. Questions overflowed my heart and it was as if I looked to the sea for my answers. Set after set the waves echoed an answer to my heart; there is adventure ringing true in the depths of this world. Those small waves were crashing on the beach break, but they were just the aftermath from the severe and solid waves of massiveness that were playing beyond my eyesight in the sea’s hub.

Sometimes the silence is the most crowded place, when my thoughts begin to outgrow themselves and my dreams begin to outlive the realm of reality. So I found myself on this beach, 4 months into this adventure, toes in shoes and arms in sleeves, no sun to see but salt to smell. I found myself accepting this opportunity, exactly as it has come, exactly as it has woven itself into my life. I’m finding I’m not the same girl here that I was at home, not with people who know me – falling into days where it seems like I have nothing and no one. But honestly, it feels like falling into freedom.

“All living things contain a measure of madness that moves them in strange, sometimes inexplicable ways. This madness can be saving; it is part and parcel of the ability to adapt. Without it, no species would survive” Am I falling back on some form of inner madness? A madness that in reality keeps me sane and helps me move, helps me dance in the discomfort of formality of a society I have never longed to be a part of? A madness that is saving, because it really is part of the package. When you step out of your front door, and you leave security and you leave all you’ve ever known, even yourself, you have to have your feet steady on something in order to survive.

If you haven’t ventured, if you haven’t seriously stepped into that realm of unknown, into a land where you had to leave yourself and everything you once thought to be true than you, my friend, have no idea of what I am talking about. Because with this madness, when looking to the sea for answers, you don’t know the pain that comes with it. Unfortunately, you don’t know the gain either.

The sea beckons us, the unrevealed and the unfound, the adventure and danger, it beckons to certain souls. Igniting them with a flame that arouses a wanderlust that can only be fulfilled by those waves that are unseen to the people who stay on their own shores. It is those uncharted waves, those that are unrealistic, that can kill you, the ones you find in the stomach of the sea – It is those that keep the flame of the wandering vagabond satisfied.

Blue Eyes & Bones

It’s the beginning of fall, winter’s grand entrance here in Jeffrey’s Bay. With this season comes wind. A cold, strong wind. As my skin feels the change in seasons, my bones feel an urge. A wind going a new direction, a new season in life; I can feel it in my bones, right with that bitter winter wind.

Ian, Jonty, Tristan and I all stood there. My frame easily the smallest of our group; With Tristan and Ian both over six foot with bohemian brunette hair, Jonty just shy of their height with his cheeky blonde hair. We all stood there, 3 surfers and I – wrapped in hoodies, scarves, hats – anything to keep us warm. We stood on the sand, boots barely sinking in, we stood upon a hill with the wind hitting us as strong as it could, frigid and fierce. We stood there, staring at the waves.

A new swell has come to Jeffreys Bay, a swell that makes the surfer’s stoke. A swell that brings in waves that will be talked about along the coast, waves that will be respected. The waves came with an off-shore wind. My eyes absorbed in that alluring blue sea. We watched the surfers fight – they fought the wind, the cold, the current – they fought to stay. To stay, to play. Because you could look out upon bone-chilling water, with a biting wind and heavy, engrossing waves – and it could be ugly. But that was not today.

It was cold yes, but the refreshing, liven you up, type of cold. It was windy yes, but the reviving, new breath, type of wind. We knew each surfer was smiling out there, with each wave’s face being triumphed there was a new stoke planted. The waves were playful, inviting, enticing. The clouds, perfectly painted with accents and hues to kiss the gentle slopes that created each billow.

These blue eyes of mine, stared at a blue sea, at a blue sky today. These blue eyes of mine were entranced by a song that only the waves were playing, a song that nature fell in tune with – that my soul fell in love with. These blue eyes of mine, became the windows for these bones of mine.

These lessons I learn, I write – The refining I retain, I treasure – The challenges I conquer, I captivate. With new seasons, come changes. A change in the wind, a change in the temperature. I can feel it in my bones; a new direction, a new season – quickly approaching with fierce. And the stoke it has startled within my soul is … an urge, a fire, a desire, an arousal, it’s a feeling words cannot portray. A stoke that only a sea-bound sailor knows.