the search for owen meany

where did i leave you? oh yes, the mountain of wonder...
we then spent a fun filled day in the nairobi airport and arrived in zanzibar to a less than promising start driving through peoples backyards through floodgates...
but then all at once i was surrounded by crashing waves, soothing Epcot music, and pleasantries all around. wow that feels like forever ago. Zanzibar is the stuffing in a dream turkey. It was incredible... sea kayaking, spice tours where we peeled cinnamon bark off of trees and inhaled ginger and nutmeg and all spice and cardamom and vanilla and was overwhelmed by how much nature can bestow upon ones tastebuds. we ate this fruit called a dorian whcih smells like rotting onions and tastes like an avacado that has been basted in rotting onions and carcases.
please advise yourself to stay away from this fruit... we should have knows after the maniacal giggles exuding from our taxi driver after he told us to try it. we drank from coconuts that our dear 12 year old Don Juan shimmied up a 30 foot tall tree to gather, and just basked in the enjoyment of seeing where Freddie Mercury might or might not have taken his first steps and had his first baby jam session. i have so much more to say but not enough brain power in which to say it today... so stay tuned.

It was the avacados that did it

When I get to Moab, I’ll get my canteen filled. Theres nothing that the road cannot heal.
i just climbed the tallest freestanding mountain in the world. and my eyes burn. mostly from hiking 14 hours in one day, maybe a bit from dust in my eyes, or maybe because my eyes are revolting against me for fixating on the most beautiful sights i have ever absorbed and then ripping them back to reality. it was incredible. it was a 7 day trip, to acclimatize us for the altitute that only a person who needs about two breaths of oxygen every five minutes can handle without difficulty. so every day we would hike about 5 hours and then on the day before the hike here was my diet. breakfast: tea, an omlette, two peanut butter sandwitches, oatmeal, fruit. snack: a luna bar and two fun size snickers. Lunch: cucumber soup, two pieces of bread, spaghetti, rice, and more bread. Dinner: please see lunch and imagine larger portions. oh, and somewhere in between all of that i ate a family size bag of chocolate chip Famous Amos cookies. We took a nap after all that and then woke up at 11 at night to get ready. aka put on EVERY article of clothing that i own, and strapped on my chic boots to start the trek. it was steeper than a flight of stairs and there were about 30 hikers on our side, all wearing headlamps in the pitch black darness, so it looked like there were 30 drunk shooting stars lazily climbing. we were moving about a step every ten seconds, mostly because of the altiturte but also because i was literally wearing 7 pairs of pants so it was difficult to move any faster. my dad turned around after about two hourse becuse of altittue sickness, but i made my sister go with my. and oh my god, was it worth it. by the time the sun started up on the horizon, it was an out of this world experience. it was just a horizontal line with shards of yellow shooting up from the bottom. and then came the colors, which would made a male peacock die of jeoulosy. it took us about 6 1/2 hours to get to the top, which is covered by these phenomelnal glaciers that look like massive waves. i cant even describe it. but then the exhaustion set in, and we headed down after katie took pictures. the hike down was fun for about 5 seconds because we were hiking down pure sand.
i am so thankful for pure human beings.

Sprited Away

I know no one really reads this
and this is a pathetic attempt at some effing care packages...
but a few things that are ALWAYS welcome...
*MAGAZINES (i love the trash. anything with music. real simple is sadly my favorite magazine of all time)
*MUSIC>>>>> MUSIC>>>> MUSIC. CDS
*DVD'S/TV Shows
*FOOD (healthy... i get enough oil to sink a baby seal. cous cous, sundried tomatoes, hummous mix, rice cakes... anything to illuminate my insides)
*Pictures of you doing exciting things. (unless you are reading this and i dont know you. "exciting" to you may be... perverted to me.)
*Anything to make my cheeks light up with joy and my heart soar.
Victoria Treski
PO Box 93
Thaba Tseka
Lesotho
Southern Africa

If you seek Amy

Really?? Has anyone listened to the track on Circus entitled “if you seek Amy?” it’s a confusing if not thinly veiled attempt at paradise where Britney finally realizes she can say whatever the hell she wants in her lyrics because no one really a) pays attention b) gives a rats rainbow about what comes out of her mouth and c) judges her artistic merit on the basis of her songs. We just want to know how hot your bod is.
Speaking of hot bods…
Lindsey and I are official members of the elite (well… idiotic) team of roadsters who will be running in the Cape Town half-marathon. So today was the first day of the rest of my life. Or the first day of the rest of no rest. Or the first day of me getting to use the excuse “what… I need these carbs to train. Lay off.” I am pumped to have something to train for again; something to look forward to and to accomplish. I can’t remember the last time that ive felt that way about something. I don’t know if I will feel that way about peace corps… I think it’s too early to tell.
America the beautiful. All of you who are sitting in your homes, offices, libraries, tiki huts reading this right now… go to your local 7-11 and down a coke slurpee for me. No I don’t give a shit if you get a frozen headache. Just take one for the team. I just got home from three weeks of unbridled fun and fancy frolic in the land of the free. The moment I stepped into the Atlanta airport I could not remove the Cheshire cat smile from my face. I was walking around in a euphoric daze, creepily staring at children, old men, women, and those pathetic little dogs that people are allowed to tote on airplanes these days. Everyone was a friend. Everyone of those people I had gone to an 8th grade dance with, bought my first recorder from, had taught me ribbon dancing… I just felt an inexplicable sense of kinship with everyone I saw. The routine upon me leaving Lesotho is usually as follows
1) see white people
2) think I know every white person I see
3) realize I don’t know anyone, but golly are they attractive
4) yeah, nevermind.

But in America, it was just an amazing sense of familiarity. The moment I got there, Lesotho felt like a painting, or an obscure documentary that I had viewed once in college that I may or may not have attended a protest rally for. It didn’t seem like it had been a part of my life, let alone my life. I was back in the comfort of my former surroundings, and I had to constantly remind myself not to take anything and everything for granted. Walking through the isles of a Super Target was like being in Wonkaland… who thinks of this stuff? I cant even come up with an example because all of the products seemed so far fetched to me at the time. It really made me realize that I love living simply (well, living as a simplified version of my former self.) But also, how easy it is for me to take such things for granted.
THANK YOU to everyone who made an effort to see me, it meant the world to me.
TWONGS… I will always love you.

Top Ten American Adventures
10) Seeing Vito grind on those two ladies at the Mexican restaurant
9) TWINKLE LIGHTS
8) Damn it… lets hang out! Athens adventures and tequila techniques with my favorite party girl, KBag
7) Listening to my sister verbally accost Jesse during an innocent game of 30 seconds
6) Seeing Kevin Barnes. Seeing Kevin Barnes. Seeing Kevin Barnes. Kevin Barnes, if by some ungodly chance you are reading this… I will be your lover. With soul power. Please contact.
5) Tattie Grace Estes… www.deadstripper.com
4) Mustache rides in the town of the free
3) Riding the worlds tallest slingshot with two of the worlds finest human beings
2) Taking Kylie to a drag show. Seeing that drag show again later that night.
1) Dwight Howard and the dream team.

All in all, it was a wintery wonderland of amazing experiences.
But, back to life, back to Lesotho.
If you happen upon Rebecca’s blog in the near future (rebeccagoestoafrica.blogspot.com) be sure to mock her relentlessly for laying in bed reading Twilight for the second day in a row. Six months ago, when I tried to spread the gospel of Twilight, I was tarred and feathered.
Goodbye.

lactose intolerance

ten things i love about being in america (albeit temporarily)
10) PEOPLE HOLD THE DOOR OPEN FOR ME
9) people wait for me to cross the street instead of treating me as a moving target
8) milk. and cheese. and ice cream.
7) the einstein's bagel guy
6) my dog charlie looks like a meathead bodybuilder. big body. tiny head.
5) non-fat no whip soy milk mocha frappa whatever. i have no clue what these people are talking about. but its pretty
4) CELL PHONES that dial people in america
3) televangelists
2) ohhh lactose intolerance

out of africa... into liederhosen?

i have so much to say about this tribe called oktoberfest, but it will have to wait until i am not on a 15 minute time line of restrictions in the abu dhabi airport. so why did i even begin this? why not.

We are the champions, my friends

Chapter One: Show me the money, son.
I've been down in Maseru three times in the past three weeks, which, if you are a math major like myself, evens out to once a week. The HIV/AIDS support group that I have been helping out with in my old village (would we call it helping? I like to smile alot and pretend i have been working on my sesotho. thank the lord for dimples and a blank stare) but i helped them write a grant from the US Embassy to get money so they can buy laying hens and start an egg business, selling to the local primary schools. With the money they raise they want to help with the 88 double orphans with food, clothes, school fees, etc. We got the grant, so i came down to maseru last weekend to go with the leader of the group. There were supposed to be two representatives from each group to recieve the grant at the US Embassy, and being the pompous american asshole that i am, i decided to be one of the reps. The ceremony was on september 11th, and was basically a three hour photo opp that could have been dry and lifeless if it wasnt for the bo-me (women) who broke into melody each time a support group was called to the front for the ceremonial handshake. it was beautiful and just made me realize how much soul these women really have. They are budding entreprenuers, making and selling cosmetics, chickens, baked goods... anything and everything to raise money for the children who are victims of misfortune. And i got to see the Thaba Bosiu guy.
Chapter Two: Mini tours are not just for senior citizens
On thursday night, there were two girls who were finishing their service and peacing out, and they told us story after story after story of peace corps debauchery, legends, lore, and all the juicy carnage that we savor so much from US Weekly. They made our pledge class look like yeasty babies. So, in the spirit of solidarity, Lindsey, Mandy, and I embarked on a mini-tour of Lesotho. Four days, three roundavels, over 24 hours of bus, taxi, truck travelling, two 80's workouts, one cardboard cutout of Bear Grylls, one deity of a carrot cake, and a thin dvd restored my soul, my faith in humanity, and my laugh lines.
The mini-tour gods doth shine down upon our lives.
Chapter Three: You can Barack my Obama
Last night was the COS party for the education volunteers who are leaving in December. AKA an excuse for me to buy a new dress and blow dry my hair. Which I did. I was a tad lushy, we had a Thaba Tseka danceoff, I believe at one point I told Rebecca that I was either ET'ing (leaving peace corps early) or moving districts... no recollection of that. I skinned my knees dancing, and then went in the hall to have a little heart to heart with lady Becca, and then went into the bathroom and fell asleep for about an hour. I woke up to the lights being turned off, and in my "groggy" state, it took me a good ten minuets to fully realize that I had been locked in. So i get up in the pitch black and walk straight into the cement wall. (hence, why my nose feels like a bee hive) and then check all the doors in the banquet hall, which are all chained and locked. So i bang on the door and start screaming like neve cambell, and finally after about 30 minuets a guard finds me and runs to get the key to get me out. The rest of the night includes many stories, all of which require hand motions and throwing my voice.... so remind me to tell you.
I woke up with a Barack Obama t-shirt on.
dont forget to vote.