making a difference. Justin Knabb's blog

Update on Water for Waslala

I continue to help run Water for Waslala, where we work to provide clean drinking water for people in extreme need living in Waslala, Nicaragua.  One of the best parts of serving as the charity's treasurer is receiving donations in the mail.  Every so often, a few come across my desk that are extremely touching.  One such donation came to me last week, and I wrote about it on my recent blog post on our charity's blog:  Small, giant hearts

The spot no one seems to know about

Written on April 13, 2009

This morning I visited one of my favorite locations on Planet Earth.  I certainly wouldn't be disappointed if heaven had a view like this spot.  Every time I visit San Francisco I try to make time to visit it.

Getting there is no small task, of course.  I jog to the vicinity, 3+ miles from my usual home at Cole Street... then hike down a treacherous trail... cut through trees and brush... hike some more... and then it all opens up.  I sit there... take a breath... and soak in everything all around me.

It's awesome being there.  It's torture to leave.

The view is so stunningly beautiful that even the words in my head turn to mush.  The spot never ceases to provide a full sensory experience... the breathtaking 360 degree view, the rush of the wind from all directions, the smell of sea salt, the chill rushing in from the bay.  I would be hard-pressed to find a more special spot in all the Bay Area.

And each time I visit, no one else is ever around to enjoy it. 

It's always as if I'm the only person in San Francisco who knows about it.  Being in an area where millions of people live, and millions travel to each year, I relish and enjoy the privilege of experiencing the spot in a solitary way.  I wish everyone could spend some time there at some point.

But, at the same time, I don't want to be Rick Steves either. 

Rick's travel guides have been helpful (and cheap) guides that have led to me to some spectacular hilltowns throughout Europe.  I'm forever grateful for his guidance.  But the man is essentially a conquistador.  His guides have a way of turning once-quiet, quaint and remote towns into tourist-ridden knickknack markets.

So I don't know if I'll tell you how to find my spot.  All I'll say is that it's a natural elevated platform, with a view of the Golden Gate Bridge, the Marin Headlands, Lands End trail, wildlife, the bay, dramatic waves crashing, and even a stone labyrinth.

Good luck finding it.  If you're ever fortunate to hike around Lands End, you'll certainly know when you do find it.

Sometimes the best places we discover in life are the ones we've sweated to find on our own.

The great urban experience

As I'm walking through Philadelphia this weekend, my mind shoots back to January 2004.  As of late, that particular point in time actually comes to mind frequently.  January 2004 was when I first arrived in Milan, Italy.  That was when I first experienced living in a city.  I've been hooked ever since.

Perhaps the way that Thoreau yearned for solitude in the woods or Kelly Slater yearns for beach towns, I've learned that I naturally yearn for life in the city.  There's always a surprise around each corner... always a new place to discover just a block away... everyone living in compact quarters within such a small radius.  There's nothing like being part of a truly vibrant, eclectic and interesting city.

Philadelphia will always be among my favorites, and not just because it's essentially home.

Along with my friend, Matt, I discovered one particularly awesome place near Rittenhouse Square called Monk's Cafe this weekend.  They call themselves a "Belgian Beer Emporium and Restaurant," but that just begins to describe the experience there.  I felt like I was actually transported back to Belgium, where I visited in June 2004.  Their menu is filled with hundreds of beers, imported from around the world and especially from Belgium.  Prices per bottle average from $8 for more common Belgian ales to $100+ for the rare brews.  With such an overwhelming selection to pick from, to the cavernous feel of the place and the scattered candles over the copper-top bar, it all made for such a great "experience."

And that is what I'm always finding in Philly and other cities.  Great "experiences."  It's safe to say that lots of restaurants simply fill needs-- i.e. Fox and Hound as a sports bar (where we actually spent watching the Villanova NCAA tourney game prior to Monk's).  And some restaurants are just over-the-top, unreasonably expensive, and once the food is digested and the bill paid, you wonder if the whole amount of time and money spent was really worth it-- i.e. McCormick & Schmick's.

But places like Monk's, like Nodding Head, like any of Stephen Starr's incredible restaurants... they are awesome experiences.  They may still be relatively expensive, but you can at least discern the value added.  They're clearly promoting not just great menu's, but a new lens from which to view a meal, a night, a lifestyle.  How much more fun and interesting is it to be part of a grand symphony rather than just the same old elevator music?

Speaking of Stephen Starr, I walked by his new Parisian bistro, Parc, yesterday afternoon around 4pm.  This was about the time when my mind rushed back to Milan.  Parc is a slice of Europe brought to Philly: The grand and elegant cafe, people sitting at outdoor tables lining the sidewalks, and the waiters and waitresses dressed in white, formal attire.  Seeing the scene at Parc brought back that feeling of home that I first began to feel in Milan.

I'm just so fascinated with the study of urban design, and the places and people and activities that fill in those spaces.  Or, rather, the way those finite structures might inspire all that come to fill in those spaces.  It's just that, as I walk around Rittenhouse Square in Philly, as I walk through Union Square in New York... and Harvard Square in Boston... and Golden Gate Park in San Francisco... and the National Mall in Washington, DC... and Millennium Park in Chicago... and the Zocalo in Oaxaca, Mexico... and many other cities...it continues to amaze me at the remarkable way that good urban design, places and communities play out.

You just know it when you see it.  It makes great sense.  It doesn't feel forced, it feels right.  It's natural.  It's the warm, cozy feel you get as you sit inside Monk's Cafe sipping imported Belgian brews at 3pm on an idle Saturday.  It's the satisfaction you feel from buying artisan goods in an open-air market versus at a cash register under the florescent lights at Wal-Mart.  It's the pride you feel in sharing the "experience" with your neighbors around you who also seem to just "get it."

Good urban design.  I'm going to keep delving deeper into this topic over the next few weeks.

SHINING eyes

Contrary to the topic of my last post (guns!), it feels good to put some positive spin back on my blog.  These two clips that I'm putting on here have really shaken me to the core within the last few hours.

Ben Zander's TED talk "Classical music with shining eyes" is one of the single best presentations I've ever seen... and HEARD.  He's plays a beautiful Chopin piece on the piano and dissects the larger meaning of his work for us.  As always, he leaves me in tears and a renewed hope in mankind.

 

 

Finally, here is an extremely cool website that I discovered last night: www.wherethehellismatt.com.  Basically, the guy traveled the world (about 50 different countries) and hundreds of different cities to introduce his crazy, original dance to, well, the world.  With Garry Schyman's beautiful song "Praan" as the background music, the clip of Ethopians, Parisians, Brazilians, Americans, and Papua New Guinians all dancing along with Matt Harding is truly truly uplifting.  Just watch this clip... absolutely PHENOMENAL!

 

Hello from The Bahamas

It's been a while since my last post, I know.  A lot of living to do; I haven't made time to write, which I should.

Anyway, here I sit in our timeshare at the world-renowned Atlantis Resort on Paradise Island, just off the coast of Nassau, New Providence in The Bahamas.  I am so fortunate to be here, I really am.

The trip has been wonderful so far.  We arrived on Saturday, and it's been pleasantly slow and relaxing.  I'm the type of person-- and traveler-- who wants to be moving all the time.  Everyday in Rio just a month ago, for example, was go-go-go... from one monument to the next, followed up with a football playoff game at the Maracana with 85,000 other adrenaline-crazed lunatics.

But this type of holiday is different.  A lot of sleep (necessary in part, thanks to the strep throat I developed when we first arrived).  A lot of family time.  A lot of just lounging poolside and drinking Bahama Mama's, Kalik beers, and munching conch fritters.  It's all been very nice.

Spending this time with family is a real joy.  I've enjoyed the time spent with my younger brother especially.  Him and I are on the run all the time back home; we barely have quality time in each other's company.  But here we've gone snorkeling, shared drinks (nice, because the drinking age here is 18), hung out beachside and a lot more.  Unfortunately he has to leave for home early tomorrow in order to catch his college orientation at Seton Hall.

You know, I keep thinking back to the letter that I wrote Tyler on his graduation just a few weeks ago... especially amidst the extreme excess down here.  Part of me wishes I could bottle this experience up and share it with others who will never make it to Atlantis or even out of their home country.  Part of me just wonders how I made it here, how I was born to such a generous, loving father who wants to share these moments together as a family.

Again, I'm just thankful.  That'll have to do for now.

Soaking in this last month

I heard a wise entrepreneur say last January that success should not be ultimately judged by what one earns or accumulates or even accomplishes.  Success, he said, is based on what you're actually doing, day-in and day-out.

In that case, I guess I can say I've been pretty successful lately.

Fortunately, I've done a lot of cool stuff this past month.  I've cheered on my younger brother as he ran for the gold in the 4x800 relay at our county championship meet.  I've slowly but surely been making more of an impact in our family business.  I've been exercising almost every day, not to mention many memorable runs around the beautiful Lagoa Rodrigo de Freitas in Rio de Janeiro with the Cristo Redentor looking down from Corcovado mountain.  I've been savoring many Brazilian churrascos, many Irish Car Bombs with good friends, and many late nights of euphoric dancing.

There have been many great moments that I'll remember forever.

Life, after all, is a bunch of moments.  They are good and bad and neutral, all bottled up and later regurgitated as experiences and stories to reflect on.  Life is a bunch of people, joining together to share their experiences and wisdom, their drinks and their smiles.  Life is a game that is unique for each us... in setting goals, only we can see them through.

Certainly the crystalline moment that will define this past month, amongst all the other months of my life, was that moment when I climbed Corcovado for the first time.  Ever since seeing the Christ statue as a kid, with His arms spanning ever so wide, literally welcoming and embracing and blessing the spectacular city of Rio de Janeiro... I just knew I had to get there one day.

And fortunately I did.

Looking up at that monument -- and in the process, seeing my second of the new seven wonders of the world (first being the Colosseum in Rome) -- and then looking out over Rio, I just couldn't contain the tears from my eyes.  That was a dream realized, a panorama that once took my breath away even in pictures... yet the views that day were purely mine. 

Magazine photos leave out the countless smiles and hugs and  raw emotion that other tourists/pilgrims share when experiencing such a landmark for the first time.  Photobooks just can't provide the adrenaline that fills your system and the goosebumps that line your spine.

For all reasons completely personal to me, that moment at The Christ was all of that... raw and jubilant and full of adrenaline. 

I just thank God for that particular moment and all the moments from this past month.  The older I'm getting, the more I'm trying to slow down, to take things in and just "be."  With Tyler's high school graduation this weekend, a friend's priestly ordination in NYC next weekend, a family trip to the Bahamas the week after, and my good friend's wedding the week after that.......

it appears there will be many more great moments ahead to enjoy and bottle up too :-)

The seduction never ends in Rio

(written May 23, 2008)

I'm now just three days into my stay in Rio de Janeiro, and I continue to be seduced by this place more and more each moment.  I just can't compare this to any other city I've ever been to... other than to say, no other place is this intoxicating.

My new friend, Greg (a surgeon-in-training from Edmonton), and I spent some time on Ipanema Beach this afternoon.  Like every other day on this trip, I originally planned to hang out there for just an hour or two.

And, like every other day, I stayed for hours.  We stayed until the sun set, in fact.

The gorgeous women, the incomparable people watching, the beautiful mountains, the crashing waves, the bottomless beers, the refreshing agua de coco, the soothing sun on my face...

This beach and this city is everything I hoped it would be, and so, so much more.

There are a seemingly infinite amount of reasons to fall in love with this city... The breathtaking sunset at the top of Pao de Acucar last night.  The samba that fills the streets in Lapa each night.  The morning jog that Cariocas take around their lagoa each morning.  The comforting assurance, anywhere in the city, of Christ's wide open arms from the top of Corcovado.  The refreshing capirinhas and the filling churrascarias.  The almost unceasing friendliness of the Brazilian people.  The sheer pandemonium and euphoria with 80,000 others at a last-minute, dramatic win at a Maracana football match.

And, of course, the raw, natural, urban beauty of this entire city.  It will be so difficult to leave here in what seems like such a short time from now.

I'll just hope that Hemingway's thought of a Moveable Feast applies with Rio, just the same as Paris.

Adventurous hikes, wild nights and lazy days

I rapidly falling in love with Brazil... after just two and a half days.

Well, I am at least officially addicted to these travel experiences.  While laughing hysterically with new friends, downing capirinha after capirinha, forgetting about any worries and sense of time as we head deep into the evening, I quickly remember why I love thrusting myself into these new places. 

Learning and teaching and experiencing and connecting and celebrating with complete strangers-turned-friends, all in a land foreign to me... it's bliss, it's fun, it's what life is all about for me.  I am in love with cultural discovery.  I'm fascinated with how much we have all in common and how much is different between us at the same time.  Why can't everyday be this fascinating?

Like usual, fortunately (and surprisingly), I've spent very little money while here.  Others think that traveling to these new countries requires a lot of cash, but aside from the sunk cost of airfare to get here, all I need is a simple bed in the home of a friend, some food to eat and a healthy imagination.

No imagination was really necessary to dramatize our experiences from yesterday.  After sleeping in late after a night full of Brahmas, Skols, capirinhas and cigarettes (that apparently cause sexual impotency... who knew?), Katie and I set off to navigate the inefficient Floripa public bus system to make it to Praia (beach) de Mozambique.  The stretch of beach was spectacular, pristine, full of white sand.  The water was a clear turquoise and fish were leaping from the waves, also occupied by surfers.  While most of the beach was fortunately empty and peaceful, the few humans on the beach made for some great people watching... fishermen casting nets into the waves, friends kicking around soccer balls, and overly tanned Brasileiros just catching more UV rays.

After a wonderful walk down the beach for an hour or so, and catching up on two years worth of experiences, Katie and I needed to head back to civilization.  Problem was, the trail back was not as developed as the one we took in.  From what started as a fine-enough trail that a Brazilian guided us to, quickly turned into a wild adventure... it turned to wide-open desert, then lead right into a horrific black swamp, then after a detour turned right back into a swampy and narrow path through tall and thick weeds.  Fearing that an anaconda or army of mosquitos would swallow us alive, Katie and I picked up our pace and fortunately, after traversing an unstable bridge, found ourselves back near human life.

After asking kids for directions and waiting at what I called "the loneliest bus stop in the world" for what seemed like 45 min to an hour, we were finally on our way back to her place.

After a nice long shower and ice cold beer, Katie's friends made us an epic, traditional Brazilian churrasco.  There we were, jamming to a mix of American and Brazilian dance music, munching on chicken legs and hearts, steak strips, sausage and garlic bread, drinking beers and talking and laughing... the more I look back on nights like these, I think I'm in paradise.  Life really has been so wonderful down here.

I was in a food coma and needed to take a quick nap to prepare for our night out.  Of course Brasileiras don't even think about going out until midnight hits.  So at about 12:20am, we hopped in Lisi's small car and headed for a hole-in-the-wall samba club a few miles down the road.

The night was euphoric.  Samba is my type of dancing.  I was also the lone male among five women (never a bad thing being the pimp of the night).  And there we were, dancing the night away, finally speaking the same language of music that transcends all other languages.  There we were--two Americans, four Brazilians; four heteros and two lesbians--that came together as six like people just moving to the music.  It was a beautiful night.

This morning was beautiful as well.  The sun was shining through Katie's door, soft Brazilian music filled the air, and birds were singing their own songs.  I rolled out of bed, cooked up some eggs, cracked open a papaya and downed some agua de coco.

This morning, I am a champion.  And we'll do it all again today... why not?

Dia primeiro in Florianopolis, Brasil

Drinking a Brahma Extra cerveja, lounging in Katie's apartment, birds chirping outside the door and not a worry in the world... yep, it finally feels great to start settling in Brazil after a hellish travel day.

After my post from yesterday, I proceeded to board TAM flight #8083 and thought I'd never make it off in Sao Paulo.  I've never been on a 10 hour flight before, and aside from my flight back to the US in 2 weeks, hopefully I'll won't be on another for a long time.  For one, now I have no doubt that the thought about poor oxygen supply on airplanes is true... I was tired the entire ride and slept through almost half of it.  Aside from the outstanding Brazilian hospitality (beautiful female flight attendants, warm & moist towels distributed throughout the flight, a decent breakfast and lunch served onboard, and 5 different movies to choose from right from my seat), it was a longggg time to be confined to a cabin riding 37,000 ft above sea level.

The 10 hours onboard was just the start of the adventure, however.  I've never felt as much as a fish-out-of-water as I did in the Sao Paulo airport.  Just a chaotic place.  No one understood my language.  Changing my dollars to reals took a solid (and unnecessary) half hour.  Understanding my phone card was impossible.  And I missed that night's connection to Florianopolis.

Which meant that I'd have to pull an all-nighter in the airport in one of the most dangerous cities on the planet.  After trying to literally sleep with one eye open, with my luggage wrapped around my legs to prevent theft, fortunately I survived and am here to document the experience!  So, after losing a day of my life flying halfway around the globe and weathering a night of pounding headaches, contorted sleeping positions and odd suspects walking around the airport at 4am... I'm reared and ready to go for what should be a wonderful 2 weeks in BRAZIL!!

Off to Brazil, a new adventure

Each trip usually starts off this way.

Airport stress, it never changes; if anything, it gets worse.  As I patiently await the lush Brazilian landscape, pristine beaches, and exotic culture, I first must weave my way through JFK airport.  The apathetic flight-check-in-people, the frustrated and overworked TSA folks, the overpriced and old sandwiches at Au Bon Pain, and the crazy woman shacking up next to my seat at the boarding gate.  I mean, this woman sits down with her Samsung TV box (?), starts unpacking and repacking her entire suitcase, making a ruckus, unnerving everyone around her...

Geez.  Calm down... only 1.25 hours left to board for Sao Paulo.

Every trip usually starts off this way... but it's usually worth it.  It's always worth it.

I'm going to Brazil.

In looking at the horizon that is my (hopefully) long life over this past year, I've made a list of some 'stuff' I hope to accomplish and see and experience over this seemingly short time.  Making it to Brazil and, in particular, Rio de Janeiro have been on my short list for a while now.  I figured, with my friend Katie Pheasant studying down there, with cheap airfares this time of year, still-good weather, some extra cash saved up and a currency situation in my favor, there might not be a better time to make this happen.

So this is a new adventure.  Completely new.  A new continent (South America), a new language (Brazilian Portuguese), and a new culture (a vida de Carioca).  I have just one friend living in Brazil.  I have just one simple backpack full of clothes, essentials, a credit card, and a few books. 

This is a blank slate.  I feel exhilarated and free and anxious all at the same time.

There is so much I hope to experience in Brazil.  I have been studying up for this trip for a long time now.  Rio de Janeiro does not have the best reputation in terms of safety (in fact, I think the city deals with more murders per year, per capita, than Baghdad or Kabul).  So, this trip demanded that I have a decent understanding of the country before booking it.  Hopefully, I do.  I'll find out soon enough.

Unlike past travels through Europe, I am bringing my laptop along with me this time.  I think most people are most creative with a pencil and paper, but for whatever reason I think best with a keyboard and LCD in front of me.  Nevertheless, I'm hoping to blog each day while on this trip.  While I took entire books worth of photos from my summer-long journey from Europe, and have retained most of those memories, I have still forgotten a lot.  Trips like this need to be captured.  Like a journalist or photographer or eyewitness to a major event, a personal adventure should be chronicled... reflected upon and packaged away for oneself, others, and future generations.

I intend to do just this over the next two weeks.  Again, looking at this life I've been given as a relatively short allotment of time, I just have to make the most of this and chronicle what happens.

Again, the slate is blank, waiting for photos and words.  I can't wait to see how I'm going to start to fill it up.

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