Nico and a few thoughts

a classic saying - it happens often, the world is too small or people are following me across the world and back.

July 1 2009, I’m on the Darmouth ferry on my way back from a suave and free Canada day Joel Plaskett concert at Alderny landing. I bump into a friend who tells me a story about watching a reporter interview Canadians in london, the one who answers says shes from nova scotia. “and i just bet myself i knew them” and ofcourse it was their good friend from halifax that happened to be interviewed. “wow, small world eh? you know what” i said, smiling and knowing i had a one up “you see that guy with the beard behind me, i’m almost positive i met that guy in the mountains in New Zealand” i turn…and i just one upped.

I was on my 2nd day of a 4 day trek through the Rees-Dart route in southern province of New Zealand. I met Matt and his girlfriend from UBC in the mountains and found out they were driving to Dunedine where I was studying after the trek. They made some space in their blue toyato and off we were to Dunedine. I saw him a couple of times throughout the year, and then again on the Dartmouth Ferry 4 years later.

August 2008,  And what a ceremony it was - The University of Birmingham students and myself had just watched the Umhlanga cermoney in Swaziland and now were about to party in House on Fire club near the kings palace. Rumour was the kings youngest brother was rocking it that night. Dancing to a local zimbabwean band, there was something about that girl with dreads on the floor…something indeed. At the end of the night I did the sleezy move of “do i know you from somewhere?” A year ago from that day, I was at Jollyboys Backpackers in Livingstone,Zambia - this german girl with dreads, myself and vidar from norway sang songs together about life, love and chibuku shake shake, the zambian beer of choice.

April 2008,  In an Irish bar in Lusaka Zambia, there was a big football game on the screen. I looked over at the table and saw plenty of muzungu white folk surrounded by my american friend Lia. “are your friends all American?” “yes, everyone but her, she’s Canadian” After a quick chat it turned out she was indeed my high school friends sister from down the road in Halifax, basically a 10 minute walk from my parents house. I met her again in Cape town for some wine at Camps Bay and haven’t seen her since.
January 2004 I sat in the thermal pools of Rotaroa New Zealand with two hebrew guys and a germen girl. Three people walked in, joined us and I said hello, my name is Nico, from Canada. The three looked blank at each other. “Nico!??!”

Before Clare, Alisha and Chris left on their trip to New Zealand, Alishas cousin Jeremy Zwicker, who had been in High School with me at St. Pats, gave her some good advice just before the flight. During the flight over, with a bit of anxiety on her breath, Alisha told the others that everything would be ok, they they already knew someone over in kiwiland, his name was Nico, and Jeremy said they would meet him. I had no idea who they were when they stumbled into Rotaroa, and had never planned on meeting anyone that day in the thermal pool. We ended up travelling together for the next few weeks, saying our good byes in Nelson. I met both Clare and Alisha unexpectantly again 1 year later in the Fiji Airport. huh small…island. small world.

Happy Canada Day!

real ad for a real whiskey i’ve only been able to find in Zambia

During training for staff of Vision 2020  , a few of us sat around the picnic table waiting for the next session – a girl named Orca (our earth names…oh yeah, I have an earth name too, its Springbok) wished there were Nap rooms in airports between flights – and it led into a few interesting thoughts:

•    Naps are very crucial to increasing productivity
•    There should be designated napping zones: especially in dense urban areas, airports and the workplace
•    There should be campaigns against napping stigma. Too often napping is frowned upon as laziness. Nap haters usually have a lot of traumatic childhood experiences.
•    Nap Zones could offer a variety of napping areas: tropical island with hammocks in one room, pillow rooms, inflatable couches, blanket hotel and perhaps for dense rooms, comfy “morgue like” cabinets, where you could just lay down and be shuffled horizontally into a dark quiet cabinet for a quicky.
•    You could have a membership, it could be like a parking space, filling up with quarters. There could be extra privileges available like having someone who is in charge of waking you up, or even rocking you to sleep, or possibly humming you poetry or reading you the dictionary to sleep. What a job!
•    Ex: “I’ll have the tropical island beach theme room, tranquility bird music for 30 minutes, oh and could I have a Rocker on the hammock for the first 5 minutes whispering positive affirmations, something about how everythings gonna be ok. Yes? Wake up to Simon and Garfunkel, thank you”

Now a major point of discussion were the challenges with this situation. Could you nap with a friend? A partner? A group nap? This led into some tricky situations. To avoid scandals upon scandals, we thought of cameras watching the nap spaces. But, who wants a camera watching when your napping, creep. Who would clean the rooms, would you even want a napping area where you were unsure of what had just happened with that pillow, gross. Hrm, how to resolve this, I am unsure.

Two months later I sat at a table at the ALIA institute with a couple interesting folks – Anthony and Caroline, and we spoke about napping and blogging life and I went off on a rant du jour about Napping Business. I told Anthony, who is mr. social network, that I had a blog, but hadn’t updated it in months. He gave me a very logical step by step argument on how I was ruining my life by not blogging. Still unconvinced I went on my jolly day. On the last day he spoke again about social networking and the untold glory of Google Wave, goooooogle it…funny? No. I told him I just didn’t think anyone was paying attention or I didn’t think my thoughts were too interesting now that I wasn’t a world traveler, but just a haligonian. He told me to post up the conversation we had around  napping, that it was hilarious, and to “just do it”. You win Anthony, you win.

..What Else
 

I somehow convinced fellow staff to bike to work, which meant 104 km of peddlin. How I did i do this? its all about guilt.

I’m off to Toronto in Septembre to study Adult Education and Community development at University of Toronto - this blog may become more of a thoughtful reflection story page and less of “here is my life is steps” blog. Know anywhere I can stay near campus? Help!

oh, duncan cove. a secret outside halifax. when friends from a far come, as Aisha did last week, I bring them here and force them to jump rocks with me.

And, more importantly, the lovely lady which has been very much apart of my real life the past 6 months, yet not disclosed to the life of internet….until now, Mary Fay Coady (oh lordy, now edged in stone on web google searches, go go go make her famous via this blog) is performing at Shakepeare by the Sea in Halifax all summer long!and appears in the new Trailer Park Boys 2 Movie coming to theatres in the fall, and the short film Sun Fish, cbc short film coming soon to TV. Her presence is likly the reason for my stop in blog. Instead I can just tell her my thoughts, and she laughs - good enough for me.

she dances on ice

15 seconds of fame in Halifax…As per last post, I had been trying to recruit friends to go to the Polar Bear Swim at Herring cove 2009. Unfortunately it was a massive white out blizzard the morning of the New Year. I woke up with coffee strapped me like an IV and called up the crew. Nope. Nope. Completely snowed in? You are how far? Nope. Fine. No crew. My brother in law Matt and I shoveled for 20 minutes. I got my bathrobe ready and we drove very slowly through the white out to Herring Cove. When i got there there were maybe 8 of us, and we could drink all the red bull we wanted…as we were oddly sponsored? Total maybe 20 die hards (of the usual 75+) showed up, and I …I was jumped number 2. Mom pictured above passed me the towel. The next morning I got a text from a polar bear alumni Stephanie who said I was famous.

I. am. Halifamous….boom.

life is a blog.
After following blogs of traveling friends over the past 5 years and reflecting on my own, I have noticed a few trends I will call the Blog n’ Go Curve:

1. The mass email announcement of blog, “a way to keep in touch”
2. The first message stating welcome
3. “Only a few more days, here are pictures of the Good Bye party”
4. “I made it! Internet is hard to find”
5. Big long updates with many pictures and detailed itineraries
6. “Life is interesting and exotic here, I have already made these friends”
7. Less updates, less pictures
8. “Life away is tough, I miss home, This place is weird”
9. One really big reflective update “this is a meaningful experience”
10. Less updates
11. Short recaps
12. Long time with no blogging
13. “Sorry I have been out of touch, been busy, I will be home soon”
14. “Wow its been a year since I made this, kind of forgot, I’m doing something else now, here is a funny link related to my former life”

And so it goes…

In a way it relates to the Sargents Curve or, Cultural Adaption curve. We all go through it, with new jobs, relationships and it is very obvious with traveling volunteers in a year placement. The exciting up and downs -> the honeymoon -> the straight down everything is miserable -> and the final everything isn’t so bad and I can deal with it/ or I cant deal with it so I go back immediately to what i can deal with (fight or flight/ adaption).

In my experience with wacky volunteers, the full curve will happen between 7-9 months. If you end up with only 1-2 months you leave on the end of the honeymoon, and at 4-6 months you leave possibly at the worst time when everything seems not to have worked or things just start working without any progress. So, if you want a full learning intercultural work experience 7 months + is minimum in my view. As for blogging, if you have stopped travel blogging it could mean you have adapted well enough that your traveling life doesn’t seem too superficially amazing enough that you have to tell people how different it is - which is good, but bad for your parents and their friends who want to check for updates of your life as you have forgotten to call them to tell them you are alive.

without permission, here are a few travel blogs that keep I check in on, Chris and Glens blog are updated regularly (they keep traveling or are just that interesting)

Goliath Blog

This guy has been traveling the world by foot, he started out at the bottom of South America and walked all the way up to Alaska, ACROSS the ice into Russia. The sad part has been the past 2 years, where he made it to Russia but because he did not enter at an official port  (shock!) , he had to return to Alaska and do it again. I think this put a major damper on his trip and he is now desperately seeking funding.

Chris Anderson

I met Chris while studying at the University of Otago in New Zealand. The first time I met him was the first week of binge drinking activities for new students - on my 5th night I told him I was going to take a break and he said “Geezz… and you call yourself Canadian???” He is one of the most traveled peers I know and does a fine job at updating his life online, great photographer too.

Glen Film Blog

I recently saw the short film Treevenge, somehow related to Glen Matthews (i forget how?), local up and coming haligonian filmie I suppose would be the correct title. He keeps his blog regularly updated and, dare i say, quite witty, humorous and timely (timely?). Not sure how I ran into this blog as I have never met the guy - but there will be a time when I introduce myself and give him the creepy “I mentioned your blog in my blog” speech. creep.

4 months after left Joburg, I no longer can say I just came back from Africa.
-My life , far from Zambia. Snow, rain, ice. Ups, downs, waiting. Work, relax, boredom, Work. New, friends, old friends, great people. Family. Snow, rain, ice.

This month will decide a lot of things, or I will find out news that will encourage me to make brash decisions. I will hear back from The University of Toronto where I have applied for M.ed in Adult Education and Community Development. Two unbelievable jobs will tell me thumbs down or thumbs up for an interview. Scholarship thumbs way up or inexistant. Or perhaps possibly a real full time job will appear out of thin air in Halifax - as I hear the non profit business is booming in a recession.

Need a photographer? find Jeff mccrossin - thanks for the snow tea and photo Jeff -

What else.. speaking at Dalhousie University about Development through Sport this thursday…wrote an angry article 7/10 comments disagreed with on Taking it Global here   …and I try to do something cold every cold week - ice climbing, hiking, snow shoeing, down hill skiing, cross country skiing, winter surfing…All these things are very possible in Halifax and close.

Nova Scotia at its coldest

KC and Julie whisper in the winds off Penant Point, outside of Crystal Crescent Beach

Outside of Wolfville where Acadia Unversity is found. Mud Cliffs and out of focus lends - photos from CailinOneil

Williams Lake, this has been a mighty winter for skating. The empty lake I swim near my house.

My new girlfriend. Sadie Catherine Stockwell - 18 months. My sisters child is precious. She spent 2 weeks with me at home. Everyday I would force her with tickles to say my name ” sayyyy NIIIICOOOO…say it…say NIII…COOO”…..everytime the same thing. a smile. a point. “Doh Doh!!”

Polar Bear Dip in Point Pleasant Park circa 1988?

I’m getting a bit excited. I got an email back from a guy named Rob.

Nico,

Please send in your pictures.
Yes you can advertise the site on Facebook.
We had 2 young pipers last year, they have agreed to do it again.

Hope to see you at the jump !

rob

In a few weeks I will be voluntarily throwing myself off a wharf into the frozen ocean on New Years Day, this is called the Polar Bear Dip. This will be my forth time in Halifax, and correctly my 6th consecutive “Christmas-New years day” swim  (although Mozambique 07, Zanzibar 08 swims may not fall into polar feats).

My first did not work so well. Somehow I convinced a girl interest that I would come pick her up, we would travel to Williams Lake, and go for swim. Once we got there, I realized the lake was what one might call frozen and we needed to cut through to go for the dip. This was near Christmas as I recall of 2004, but I still wanted to attend my first official jump. New years morning, “fresh” was not the word of choice, I told my parents I was going to the jump, I just didn’t know where it was or what time. In a semi conscious state, I heard my parents calling local radio stations Q104, C100 and CKDU to ask where the jump was. They didn’t know. I fell back asleep with no regrets.

The following year future polar alumni Nick Campbell was ready for the jump. We arrived at the jump spot with no one to be found. The humming organs etched through the ice cubed air, bagpipes. Nick and I were not officially locals to the Herring Cove old fishing village outside of Halifax, and we had no idea about the opening ceremonies. First- The Pre Jump Pump: Local guys shotgunnin brewskies faster than I knew possible. Second is the parade of bath robed men and small children lead by token bag piper with kilt. Oh the Maritimes. And number three-  robes off, I jumped. Actually, I did a front flip. The following day I was quoted in the local paper “Nico Koenig, first time jumper, says it’s the best way to cure a hangover”. Nick was also quoted in rival paper. As my father is an clinical therapist focusing on alcoholism, I do not remember him boasting about the review to his colleagues.

herring cove wharf, halifax
After reading the email from Rob, I passed on a message to freelance writer Holly Gordon and told her she should look into writing an article on the history and cultural significance of the event. She suggested it to her publisher, and also said I could do it myself. Well, I will try if hers does not take off. Here is a short completely unreferenced, possibly made up, and strictly googled history and origin of the polar swim.

While it may be the 15th annual polar bear dip in Herring Cove Halifax, we, the polar lineage, have been doing this kind of thing for just about as long as humans learned to jump, swim and make fire. It is of course the logical next step in our evolution. Winter swimming has been part of Scandanavian tradition for hundreds of years. It is related to the use of saunas, where by people went into cabin huddled around hot coals and chilled out. One day local Scandinavian Johann Schmoe decided to mix it up a bit by making a hole in the ice, jumping in and going back to the sauna. It is thought that having the body adjust to extreme differences in temperature has some healing effects.

Along with the healing effects, there also seems to a history of dousing with cold water related to religious tradition as a means to purify the body and soul from a year worth of sins. This can be found in Christian religions, in Russian for example as a ritual to mark the feast of the Baptism of Our Lord. While in South Africa, I was told that by a friend that “black people don’t like water” – except new years day – where thousands will go to the coast to go in the water. Of course here it is summer, and the water temperature non life threatening. I was told that the reason was that it is somehow linked to the peoples Christian belief related to cleansing.

In the mid 1800s European immigrants came to America, including my own Hungarian great great grandpolar bears. The northern European traditions of winter swimming tagged along bringing with the first winter swimming clubs in Boston and New York. Stories of the great American iced swim stretch back to 1865 in Boston at the L-Street Bathhouse,  - however it was not recognized until 40 years later where it took its first official new years day swim in the Boston Harbour in 1904. Officially the Coney Island Polar Bear club beat that date as it was founded in 1903 by “The Father of Physical Culture” Bernarr Macfadden (1868-1955). I would say he looks like me, atleast he has a similar inspirational nose.

the L-Street Bath house, south bostom, early 1900s
A previous New York polar bear president jokes that that the club was founded and then the members “sat around drinking and asking what they should do until two years later when someone said, ‘Why don’t we go for a swim?’”. This joke became a calling for future generations.

Is this how it works? A tradition starts in US and then takes in Canada? What ever the case, the first polar bear swim in Canada started by one of Vancouveres first Greek immigrants Peter Pantages. He started Vancouvers New Year’s Day Polar Bear Swim, and the Swim Club in 1920 out of the English Bay with 10 people and today entertains thousands. How and by whom it started in Halifax remains a mystery. Holly Gordon, as a real journalist, went off to the library today and speak to the current organizer Rob to find the details, but here is what I can figure out so far.

The Halifax polar bear swim was originally set in Black rock beach in Point pleasant park. It was an ideal location in downtown for hundreds to go for the plunge with a big enough site to run into the water and plenty of parking space. Judging by the picture shown on top - I will take a guess and say it may have began in Halifax in the mid to late 80s. The amount of chest hair, thick mustaches and lack of bathing suits correlates pretty well with time. The joy of the 80s park plunge was ruined by the increasing Halifax sewage – forcing dippers to find a place to swim that would not cause some kind of mutation. My favorite article concerning this describes how Arnie Ross in 2001 ran away from the cops straight into the bacteria filled ocean to fulfill his ritual of polar bearing. Arnie, you sir are the Madiba of the polar bears. Down with the man! After this, it was clear a new spot was to be made – which was 10 minutes of town in Herring Cove. Apparently this is the 15th dip, but I’m not sure if that includes that black beach dives or this relates strictly to the Herring cove jumps. It is also good to know it happens it other locations just outside of town in local surf spot Lawrencetown.

There you go, the History of the Polar Bear dip as I know it. Still questions need to be answered; why people flock to the swim – the idea of cleansing by cold water to start off the day – do people believe it works? What kind of people do this? Is it only for adrenaline junkies? Is the physical act of putting yourself in frigid water and warming up again helpful to your immune system, and how does it work exactly? What does the increasing interest in the jump say about us?

Thinking of it for myself, I jump because I really do believe it wakes you up, keeps me alive in the moment. It is a chance to challenge myself in a relatively safe environment, getting over what actually seems to be irrational. It is also a time to prove that I am also very human and fragile. I love community events, seeing people together, cheering, laughing – I am about to do a masters in community development, ofcourse I dig small community run events, I eat it up. It is also one of the few western traditions I can’t be pessimistic about. And yes, finally, it is the best cure for a new years eve party hangover.

more stunning cold people around the world- Here

straight out of the water 06, i wore a full santa suit, i almost drowned it was so heavy. i lost the beard in scramble to get out. that one was for you Arnie Ross. whoever you are.

i dance in the farms of ambositra, Madagascar. 
a memory. two years ago around this time I was settled in ntabethemba area and made my mind up that i would learn a xhosa song before heading off to namibia. During mginti ceremonies, where the boys go to get snip snip circumsized, while they leave their community to head to the bush and when they come back - it is filled with songs. These songs are only sung by the males and they learn many of them when they are in the mountains during circumsicion school. I met up with my buddies down the road and asked them to teach me a classic. its goes like this:

heeeeeyyy MaLahoyaaa, Heyyyyy Malahoyaaa..hey hey…..Kwathluuu Abantu malahoya hey heyy…heyyy malahoya…hey malahoya…kwathlu abantu malahoya enkosi hey hey…..

With your fancy xhosa stick, and a good beat emphasized with a heavy stomp, its a very catchy song. It refers King Malahoya, who formed one of the main ancestors of the isiXhosa people. Put simply it says: Don’t let other people separate your people.

Is it nationalistic? xenophobic? or a encouraging a sense of community peace? Anti-apartheid? Pro Apartheid? One night two years ago, there was a funeral for a extended family member of my host family. All the males got together, sipping the mQhomoti and castles - and we sang Hey Malahoya all night. The next day a local guy who sang with me approached. He started talking about the whites he once worked for, africanners, the apartheid system. He then told me he had never met a white like me before. He didn’t know “we” could be like that. Hey Malahoya. Hey Malahoya.

review

where was i..last we spoke I was in the middle of running the UK IDEALS project in Mpumalanga. Since then the team took a mid term in Sabie, Kruger Park and went back to work in the small community of KaHoyi near the Mozambique border. Back to Pretoria to, as I called it, have a individual retreat - work on a massive amounts of reports for the project and ofcourse, my fav, financial reports. My final good byes to my SCORE family. Apparently its like the mafia, once in, I won’t really be able to leave. And then le trip classic - The same gal from the Congo adventures joined me for a real vacation to Madagascar, no tour company, one guide book and the french road and three weeks to use any extra money I had made.

The rainforests. Here are thick bamboo village in an area calld Ravanofana. before you enter a thick primary forest, your first thought is, this must be a hill that goes straight up. but its not, it is dense, untouched, a real mother of nature that does not grow openings to light.

The train. sometimes you hear of trains form the 1920s that still run. usually that means that th train has been refurbished somehow, but uses the same track. here is the same train, the same seats, the same toilet, that passes through remote highland villages of Madagascar. This is the view you see throughout.

It stops in small villages whos primary source of income is selling exotic fruits and beer to italian tourists. the kids make beads and hats and would approached you “woooza wooza!” . becca and i thought it was a cool slang of “whaaatsup!” - started repeated it back to the kids and they looked back confused. turns out it means white person.

kids are different here. actually it is a completly other culture with few comparisons to my southern african families. Malagash people are much more reserved, less extroverted - compared to kids who will run up to you as a foreigner and follow you everywhere, malagash kids will mostly remain silent if they see you, these few were exceptions

rice fields

traditional houses always depends on whats around it. I’ve never seen anywhere in southern africa however that has such differences in houses - cntral province you will find these red gingerbread houses in clusters on rice fields, on the east  coast you will see polynesian straw frames on stilts, and by Antanarivo you can find condensed wooden apartements.

Ambositra

yes. a beach. mada is loaded with them. If you want to escape the rainforests, mountains, lemurs and vanila farms - check out ile de St. marie - a small island off the east coast north of toamasina.

Ile de st. marie used to be The hotspot for pirates - they even have their own graveyard with a memorial to the real Captain hook.

loaded with bungalows and hot shot hotels for retired french aristocrats - it is home - fishing and market in the day, taking dugout searching the reefs for fruits de merre.

Antananarivo (Tana)

The capital of madagascar is magical. as french colony, the narrow streets , rolling hills, tall thin buildings , crepes on the copple stone streets could confuse you for 19th century haute savoie france. taking a second look you see the street children, the indonesian food, asian looking people and rickshaw (pouse pouses) riddling the area - and alas you have real unique madagascar. the history behind the area tracks the growing power of the king and queens of the Merina people, as they forced any foreigners out and throw christians off their palace roofs.

becca and i learned to make friends by buying drinks. this guy hated the governement for the conspiracy of burning down the palaces. he was once a tour guide and now he had no where to tour. the governemnt i guess burnt it down to get money from UNESCO to rebuild it. smart.
Animals

those frolickin furry creatures in the movie Madagascar do exist in real madagascar - there are abot 60 kinds of them - some our tame, some will never be seen - look up The Aye Aye for the coolest looking one.  and no i haven’t seen the movie yet.

toamasina, east coast colonial town loaded with pouse pouses

food - as the malagash people came over the past 2000 years from indonesian with polynesian looks and food - they brought with them Malagash rice. its no Nshima though.

interesting kinds of fruits, the nearest place to mada to find these guys is India.

UMHLANGA - reed dance

During IDEALS project with universit of birmingham students, i placed bubbles. I ofcourse knew exactly what a good idea I had, but they had to know it..it was their process. I placed a bubble infront of them to accept or forget. the bubble to take a night away from the village of Hoyi and road trip it into Swaziland to check out the Umhlanga ceremoney. they agreed, and i had to drive.

The reed ceremoney also appears in other bantu cultures, including the Zulu. It traces back perhaps 500 years where young girls across the land would come to the kings palace and actually help build it - in a way to pay homage. They brought reed straws from all across the land and placed them around his home. ofcourse these are not a few ladies, and they are special. Actually 100,000 virgin girls come by the truck loads (really big trucks) from across swaziland with reeds. Conveniently this is also the time where the King (king mswati II) choses his 13th wife. So there we were, at the kings palace in swaziland, watching as these topless virgins sang, danced and placed their reeds.

The king actually doesn’t look at everyone and say “ah ha, you look like a good wife, i’ll have you!” - the kings “people” do a whole evaluation of the local women of swaziland, make sure she “pure” - and i figure an HIV test as well - and the decision is made. the chosen wife does still dance though.

a swazi guard stands to watch

Swazi king palace

Life in kaHoyi

My Gogo. host grandmother only spoke shangani..i spoke siswati…oh the hilariousness continues. currently pitching this as an abc sitcom

My host mom in Hoyi. she was great, the family was great. I miss them.

Kruger and Sabie

my favorite. after driving striaght for 10 hours in Kruger, I stoped the van. something was blocking it. The biggest elephant we had seen all day was charging us. “GO nico  GOO!” the brits complained i should race through it, i said no way. “Mandla would do it!” ah good one, use my precious ego against me. No I said again. we waited..it cant coming, reversing…reversing..it was still coming..finally it went to the side just a moment to the bushes. placing the van into 1st , to 2nd, and quickly to 3rd we raced by.  way to go. i beat babar. or…he just got bored

Just an update for now….the rest, the past month, and being home. to come soon

off to this hour has 22 minutes,

Nico