Two Words that Will Change Your Life

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Every year, I take our graduating senior class to lunch to check in with them, take their pulse, and give them a few encouraging words in this very pivotal year in their lives. One thing you will always hear me tell them, year after year, is contained in two words: STEP OUTSIDE.

This won't always mean the same thing for each individual student, nor should it.

As these seniors are grappling with the many decisions that can be overwhelming, I like to pile on and add one more to the mix: where and when will you step outside? This can of course include going across the street or across town -- if it takes you to a culture different than your own. This is a great place to start. But more than anything, I am talking about studying or spending time abroad -- preferably in a country where English is not the primary language.

The benefits and reasons for this are too many for one blog post, so let's begin with the obvious:

It will expand your world view.

No matter where you live, chances are you've been raised in a particular subculture. Every culture has them; it is a fact of life, just as your nationality is a fact. We absorb values from this subculture, and most of the time it is an unconscious process. Much of culture is unspoken; it is rather acted out on a daily basis -- so much so that we begin very early to make assumptions about life and about the rest of the world. It takes stepping outside our home subculture to discover that some of those assumptions were inaccurate at best -- sometimes wildly so.

Almost all ancient civilizations had coming of age rituals for both boys and girls. These were mandatory rites of passage in order for the child to be considered an adult. While most of those traditions have long since faded from modern culture, we would do well to include a phase in the life of a young man or woman that involves separation from the subculture for a time. In ancient times it was most often a test of survival in the wilderness; today it makes sense for it to be a period of time spent in a foreign culture.

Nothing prepares you for life like being forced to adapt to new surroundings, new ways of doing things, not to mention a new language. We English speakers -- whether in the US, UK, Canada, Australia, New Zealand, or other -- are incredibly spoiled by the fact that the world is busy learning our language. But relying on that fact deprives us of the opportunity to develop inner muscles that will never develop otherwise.

I asked my oldest son, who spent a semester studying Arabic in Morocco, what he had gained in the process. He replied with way more than I can include here, but here is one thing that struck me in particular:

 "It was so important for me [as a white American] to learn what it's like not to be in the majority culture. I was forced to feel the differences, and I'm richer and stronger for it."

In future posts we'll explore more reasons why stepping outside will change your life. How has stepping outside changed yours?

True (en)courage(ment)

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I've just finished meeting with a friend I've started getting together with regularly because we share many of the same goals. We share what we've learned since the last time we met and where we are in meeting those goals. Some of us are wired to attempt great things on our own. I am not. I need at least one other person with whom I can openly share the process -- not only things learned, but frustrations, surprises, hopes and fears. After our meetings I come away feeling more optimistic and more empowered.

This is the essence of true encouragement. In our culture, much of what we call encouragement is superficial. True encouragement is not simply something that temporarily gives you warm fuzzies; it is what happens when courage is the result. Courage to face whatever is ahead.

Yes, it might be something as simple as "You look nice today" -- unless you don't really think that person looks nice today. True encouragement is sincere, which means it won't always give you warm fuzzies. I love the word sincere. It literally means "without wax". In ancient times, when pottery was used as part of the daily routine, a potter would coat a finished pot with a layer of wax to waterproof it and give it a longer life. But it also served to cover -- at least partially -- any blemishes in the clay craftsmanship. "Sin-cere" encouragement is raw honesty, but with a goal of building up the other person, not tearing him down.

I have another friend with whom I've had breakfast every Friday for 13 years. We've seen each other through thick and thin, and are completely free to be ourselves with each other. We've watched each other's children grow up, walked together through career changes, mountains and valleys -- and tried to offer (en)courage(ment) at every step.

Do you have someone like that in your life? If so, you are truly blessed.

True encouragement is what happens when courage to face what's ahead is the result.

How to Foster Curiosity

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I was talking to a friend the other day who is a coffee guru. The man knows his coffee. He also knows tea. And he also knows a lot about human nature. The conversation somehow came around to the subject of curiosity. As an educator, I am among the precious few whose students generally show up ready to learn. The majority of the students we teach at the Academy are a teacher's dream, like baby birds waiting for you to drop tasty morsels in their mouths.

But what do you do when the curiosity isn't there?

My friend put the question in the context of his trade: coffee. "I put the coffee in front of them and have them taste it," he said. "Then I ask them questions: What do you taste? What does it remind you of? What does the taste evoke?"

A teacher who knows his or her material will always have plenty to teach. Sometimes it's much harder to stop and ask questions. But if a lecture doesn't include opportunity for students to ask questions, they are not being required to process things for themselves.

Socrates was famous for his method of asking questions, sometimes even playing the devil's advocate and making his students defend their opinions. This not only feeds curiosity, but it also develops the all-important skill of critical thinking.

This of course doesn't begin in the classroom, but at home. The wise parent will make it a habit to show her child the world and its beauty, all the while asking questions to allow the child to respond to wonder.

What keys have you found that foster curiosity in those in your charge?

The Magic of Unscripted Moments

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A lot of planning goes into every World to the Wise cultural tour. An awful lot. But sometimes the best memories are made from unscripted moments. Like when you happen onto a pair of super talented street performers in the Trastevere area of Rome. (There are virtuosos on the streets of almost every major European city.) Or when you run into a new friend in Venice whom you had just met in Tuscany only days earlier. Or when you get an impromptu performance from a professional opera singer on a perfect night under the stars in the Tuscan countryside, celebrating the birthday of one of our participants, sitting around the fire pit singing old standards, and eating millefoglie cake by a local artisan baker.  

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These are moments that cannot be orchestrated, when spontaneity and serendipity meet, and you have the distinct impression that heaven is smiling on you.

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Like being handed two free bottles of locally produced wine, as the group leader, by the owner of your favorite gelateria in San Gimignano. Or discovering much in common with your Italian guide whom you only just met. Or even getting caught in the strongest hail storm you've ever seen (fortunately not the longest) and getting in the van just in time to remain mostly dry. Like happening onto a beautiful pond in the park on a hot Roman day and soaking your feet. (Until the mounted policemen ride up and ask you to get your feet out of the water.)

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Or walking into a glorious 700-year-old basilica in Barcelona, enjoying the classical guitarist playing at the front and discovering that you are an invited guest at a wedding. You catch a photo of the radiant bride just steps away from you as she makes her way down the long aisle to the altar.

Or having a three-hour delay on the overnight train from Venice to Paris and thus being awake at 6:00 in the morning to see your old neighborhood in Lausanne, Switzerland out the window as the train whizzes by -- something you wouldn't have seen at 3:00 am because you would have been asleep.

Famous Last Words: "We've never done it that way before."

A mentor of mine in my young adult years used to tell the story of a little girl who was watching her mother prepare a ham for roasting. She watched as her mother cut off both ends of the ham before placing it in the roasting pan. "Mommie, why do you cut off the ends of the ham before you put it in the oven?" asked the curious little girl. "Well, I'm not sure," answered the mother. "That's the way my mother always did it." The next time the girl was visiting her grandmother, she hopped at the chance to ask her, "Grandma, why do you always cut the ends off a ham before you put it in the oven?" Grandma, somewhat taken off guard by the question, replied, "Well, come to think of it, I'm not sure. That's just the way my mother always did it." Fortunately for the little girl, Great Grannie was still alive and kicking. At the next family reunion, the little girl had not forgotten her burning question. "Great Grannie, why did you always cut both ends off the ham before putting it in the oven?" "It's simple," answered the matriarch without skipping a beat. "My pan was too small!"

Are there areas in your life where you've never taken the time to take a step back and re-evaluate the way you do things? Who knows what innovations, what improvements might be waiting to happen if we dare to question. Of course, if it ain't broke, don't fix it. But it might be "broke" and you just didn't realize it because of force of habit or familiarity.

"Question everything. Hold on to the good." - Paul the Apostle

Save the Babies: The Problem with Binary Thinking, Pt. 2

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In Part I we discussed the fact that, more often than not, reality is found somewhere between two extremes. The answers to many either/or questions are often both/and. Extremism results from a number of different things, not just the indoctrination of obvious places like a madrasa or a holy roller camp. Two factors I’ve identified in my experience are disappointment or hurt  -- and fear.

A profoundly disappointing or hurtful experience can send us careening in the opposite direction — the proverbial swing of the pendulum. A child raised by overly strict parents finds himself exploring all possible ways to celebrate his freedom once he is an independent adult. Or vice versa: someone disenchanted by a life with no boundaries finds herself imposing too many restrictions on herself or others. You get burned in a relationship and vow never to love again. Or this one is becoming more and more prevalent: people disillusioned with church eventually find themselves no longer even relating to or communicating with God.

Fear is one of the biggest motivators in life. It is uncanny how many decisions are fear-driven. We fear failure, so we play it too safe and never step out. We fear outside influences or what we have being taken away, so we circle the wagons in an over-protective and insulated posture.

To put it differently, we often live in reactionary mode.

Amidst all the pendulum swings, there is no telling the number of babies we have thrown out with the bath water.

     True life exists in tension, and the tension is not going away.

We must learn to balance seemingly opposing elements in our lives. (Notice the use of the word “and” and not “or”)

Some examples:

Living from the head and from the heart

Thinking globally and acting locally

Dreaming and accepting reality

Being others-oriented and having a healthy sense of self

Acceptance of others while being true to your convictions

Humanities and STEM

…and we could go on!

Here’s to living life in intentional mode, not reactionary mode – and here’s also to saving the babies.

The Power of Practice and Perseverance

Climber rappelling.

I was talking to a colleague today who had been on a trip to Mexico with a group that included a Spanish student of mine. I had taught this young lady, now a high school senior, for three consecutive years and seen her progress from a complete beginner to an avid student of the Spanish language. My colleague was remarking at what a pleasure it was to watch my student, Emily, use her acquired Spanish to communicate with the people of Oahaca state in southern Mexico. The first day, Emily was not exactly encouraged by her communication skills. But knowing she was going to be there another ten days or so, she figured she had no choice but to persevere with the hopes that it would come more easily with each passing day.

That is exactly what happened. By the end of this life-shaping trip, Emily was conversing with the locals, not only opening but walking through the doors her limited knowledge of Spanish opened into the lives of the people she had come to serve -- and to learn from.

This was not going to happen by simply taking a weekly class from yours truly, no matter how good a teacher I may be. Emily had to seek and find an opportunity -- a real-life situation -- in which to put into practice what she had learned in the classroom.

If we're talking about opportunities to practice Spanish, they abound in this country without your ever leaving it. If you live in a city of any size at all, there is likely a Hispanic population. It takes the initial decision to establish contact -- whether that means frequenting Mexican restaurants, buying from Hispanic businesses, visiting a Spanish-speaking church. Granted, it takes more effort to find opportunities to practice languages other than Spanish, but it's probably easier than you think. In my medium-sized city of Nashville, over 100 major languages are spoken, with one person in six being foreign-born.

This principle of practice, needless to say, carries over into every area that involves developing a skill. In his book Outliers: The Story of Success, Malcolm Gladwellasserts that most practitioners are not considered experts until they have 10,000 hours of practice under their belts. This obviously varies with the particular field, and 10,000 hours of practice is no guarantee of greatness, but the point is well taken: practice maybe doesn't make perfect, but it makes much, much better.

The Problem with Binary Thinking, Part I

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Like most of you, I was raised in a Christian family with a very strong sense of right and wrong. The Biblical understanding of good vs. evil  -- and by extension, right and wrong -- is, in fact, a universally acknowledged human belief, however you choose to frame it.  Good or bad, light or dark, black or white, hot or cold, up or down.  I believe this lies at the heart of what is termed binary thinking. In other words, many carry this notion of two opposing forces into all areas of life. Aristotle, Descartes and other philosophers had binary tendencies. There is a right way and a wrong way to do something. You are either right or wrong in your opinion on a given subject. You are either on the right team or the wrong team. A story consists of the good guy and the bad guy. Yes, this is more predominant in Western culture than Eastern, although the current wave of Islamic extremism indicates we are all subject to its pitfalls. It is not hard to see how this kind of thinking so easily leads to an "us versus them" mentality. Please understand me here: if you know me, you know I believe in good and evil, that I do not believe all morality is relative. But I also believe, strongly, that reality is most often found between two extremes.

Years ago I discovered an intriguing few verses in the mysterious book of Ecclesiastes in the Old Testament:

"Do not be over wicked, and do not be a fool -- why die before your time? It is good to grasp the one and not let go of the other. Whoever fears God will avoid all extremes." (italics mine)

Reality is most often found between two extremes.

While the musings of Solomon are often enigmatic, I find an important principle here. The fact is we are more complex, the world is more complex, than a simplistic assigning of right or wrong to a situation, person or opinion. Our culture is awash in false choices, perhaps the most profound being Is man basically good or evil?

My answer? Yes.

As a matter of fact, that is my answer to many either/or questions. Yes.

The fact of the matter is that the good guy, like you and me, has his faults. And yes, the so-called bad guy has his positive sides.

We'll come back to this later, but in the meantime, I leave you with one of my favorite G. K. Chesterton quotes. In response to a survey question put out by the London Times asking what is wrong with the world:

"Dear Times,

I am."

What examples of binary thinking do you see around you?

How Bilingualism Enhances Your Creative Flow

A good friend recently sent me a clip of video philosopher Jason Silva commenting on an article in Fast Company. Silva, who is bilingual and multicultural, resonates with the assertion that those who are bilingual and multicultural have multiplied channels of creativity. This is certainly true of those who are raised in bilingual families. But the benefits are multitudinous for anyone who learns another language, no matter when they undertake it. This is due to the fact that when you learn to express yourself in another language, you are not simply replacing English words with other words; you are accessing parts of your brain that have had to develop, through exercise, that had not previously been developed. Creativity is not relegated to the arts; it can and should pervade every sphere of human activity. More on that later!

Are you bilingual? How has this enhanced your creative processes?

Bill Gates: "I feel pretty stupid that I don't know any foreign language"

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Almost all of us have lived long enough to have regrets. Some of those regrets -- like a missed opportunity way back when, or a botched relationship -- we can't always do anything about; but others can be remedied. It's actually surprising what deficiencies in our lives are within our power to correct. Learning a language is one of those. It is never too late. A person like Bill Gates obviously has the challenge of making time for an endeavor such as studying a foreign language. But in reality, all of us face exactly the same challenge: how will we prioritize our time? In this interview Gates salutes Mark Zuckerberg for having learned Mandarin Chinese well enough to hold a Q&A session in China. Remarkable indeed. But even a more cursory knowledge of another language can gain you entry into people's trust -- a commodity not always readily available.

For some practical encouragement on how to go about learning a foreign language, check out my short e-book here.

Chewing the Meat and Spitting out the Bones: How to Learn from Just About Anyone

It would be interesting to know just when this tendency started in our culture, but it goes something like this: if I am going to learn from someone, I must believe everything they believe. So often I hear remarks such as, "Yes, I agree with that, but..." and what follows is a distancing from the person who spoke the morsel of truth. For example, a politician may have a particularly insightful opinion on a specific subject, and many are afraid to admit they agree for fear of being mistaken for a supporter of said politician. Why can't we just learn what there is to learn, no matter its source?

I would be hard pressed to name a single politician, preacher, or pundit whose opinions I agree with 100%. That does not keep me from gleaning where I can. This is much of what critical thinking is: learning to chew the meat and spit out the bones. I would go as far as to say that it is possible to learn from those whom we generally consider our adversaries. Corrie ten Boom said our critics are the "unpaid guardians of our souls".

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To use another analogy, I learned many years ago the principle of drinking from a diversity of "wells". If I drink from the same well continuously, I am more likely to have a skewed world view and an unbalanced perspective. Whether we're talking about news, business advice, teaching methods, or spiritual principals, it is important to absorb information from a variety of sources in order to have a well rounded perspective. Then we form our own opinions based on the information we've gathered.

Couldn't our culture benefit from a good dose of critical thinking, with a dash of humility?

The Reason for My Madness, Part 3

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Believe it or not, my memories of the 5-day whirlwind trip through Europe are really sketchy. My guess is that, because it was so much more expensive than the other places we had visited, my parents chose not to hang out too long in each place. Thanks to their network of missionary contacts, we had a free place to stay, one night per city: Florence, Lausanne, Paris -- then across the English Channel to London. My sole memory of London is running into a lady we had met on the ship at the Changing of the Guard at Buckingham Palace. Europe struck this 9-year-old as very old. Not surprising, given that I had only lived in the US and a modern Australian city. More importantly, I was fascinated with the fact that we could travel for just 3-4 hours by train and be in a completely different culture with a different language.

We ended our odyssey with a five-day voyage across the North Atlantic, from Southampton to New York, aboard the fabled RMSQueen Elizabeth. She was almost twice as big as the Canberra; in fact, she was the largest passenger liner ever built (until 56 years later). She was sophisticated, if showing her age, and was retired just a few years later. (I just discovered that she was initially used to transport British troops, along with the Royal Mail, during World War II before becoming a passenger liner.)

By the time we flew to Dallas from New York City five weeks after we had set out from Perth, I was a changed person. I of course wasn't conscious of just how changed I was. But the years that ensued found me craving opportunities to study foreign languages. My parents enrolled me in an experimental summer Spanish program that same year, where I excelled. My next opportunity didn't come until 8th grade (after we had spent an additional year in Sydney, Australia). By that time I had decided I liked French much more than Spanish, and dove into that fair tongue with no encouragement needed.

I went on to major in French, picking up some more Spanish and German along the way. In college, I had a number of friends who had grown up in Brazil as MK's (missionary kids) and were kind enough to teach me some Portuguese. By the time I went to Brazil the summer after graduating, I was conversant. I then spent two years in Lausanne, Switzerland, where I completed a graduate degree in French, but also became conversant in Italian through self-study and conversation. Several years later, I found myself learning Dutch in the Netherlands, greatly helped by the bit of elective German I had taken in college with the best professor I ever had. Once I became proficient in Dutch, I was then able to bring my German up a few notches.

With each new language, I gained a new way of looking at the world, not to mention a passport, so to speak, to entire continents where these languages are spoken. It's not just a matter of learning to speak differently; it's about gaining different perspectives -- a word that has taken huge importance in my vocabulary.

More about this paramount word in future posts.

The Reason for My Madness, Part 2

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(For Part 1 to this story, go here.)

We are in the year 1965 and have been aboard the SS Canberra for about two weeks, having sailed from Perth, Western Australia.

Leaving the squalor of Colombo, Sri Lanka behind, we boarded the ship and headed for the tip of the Arabian peninsula, a voyage of several days. Upon docking in the city of Aden, a port city in Yemen, I remember remarking at the sameness of the landscape and cityscape -- all a desert sand color. We children were not allowed to go ashore, so we stayed behind and kept ourselves busy while our parents disembarked for, I suppose, a day of shopping in the suqs. (I don't particularly remember questioning why we had to stay on board the ship; I suspect I didn't question nearly as much then as I do now.)

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What followed was a voyage up the Red Sea, from south to north. I remember someone pointing out Mt. Sinai in the distance to the east, and that is the closest I have come to Israel (so far). Our ship then made its way through the Suez Canal to the port city of Alexandria. (I wish I had known then what I do now about that city and the prominent place it once held in civilization.) We somehow ended up in Cairo, where I remember feeling nauseated as we made our way by bus through the hot, narrow streets. I remember only that about the city itself, but as sketchy as my memory is, no 9-year-old can ever forget a camel ride in the desert or climbing the stifling inner staircases of the Giza pyramids.

Our last leg on the SS Canberra took us from Alexandria across the Mediterranean to the Italian port of Naples. I'm sure it was with some regret that we said farewell to the vessel that had been our home for the last three weeks. Whatever stomach bug I had picked up in Egypt followed me to Italy, and I unfortunately had to stay in the hotel with my mother while the rest of the family visited Mt. Vesuvius and the ruins of Pompeii. (I still haven't made it back there.)

Wherever we went, whether in Asia, the Middle East, or Europe, I remember being enthralled as a nine-year-old with the chatter I heard coming out of people's mouths. This was my first exposure to foreign language, and my mother told me later that I would walk along the streets babbling as if I were speaking the language of the locals. This fascination has not only continued, but shaped my life more than that of any of my siblings.

After Rome, a whirlwind tour through Europe by train.

To be continued....

Adventures in New Zealand, Part 2

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The Bay of Plenty, where we were based on the east coast of the North Island, is in a land of plenty. We found a prosperous and thriving economy, with the New Zealand dollar strong and almost at parity with the Australian dollar. The prices were downright expensive for us Americans. Although wages could sometimes be better, according to our friends, and the real estate market has perhaps not fully recovered from the worldwide crisis beginning in 2008, the nation is by and large enjoying a season of abundance. Neil and Jill took us on a number of day trips, all of which were punctuated by the religious observance of morning coffee or tea (as in mid-morning, not to be confused with the cup of tea first thing in the morning) and afternoon coffee. And let me tell you, the Kiwis know how to do coffee and tea. Starbucks are few and far between, and instead there are numerous coffee shops and cafes with not only a “proper cuppa” balwut a large selection of delectable baked goods. As you might expect, these are also pricey for American travelers, but are more than worth being built into the budget. (For coffee lovers: our friends would ays order a "flat white," what seemed to this non-coffee drinker to be espresso with a thin layer of foamed milk on top. We had just been back in the States a few days when we noticed Starbucks had begun to offer the flat white, which has been part of Aussie and Kiwi coffee shop fare for some time.)

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These day trips included “The Mount,” the nickname given to an extinct volcano just outside Tauranga whose official name is Mount Maunganui. Becky and I climbed to the top, where there is a dizzying view of the beaches and the gorgeous Pacific waters below. We discovered that if you make it to the top, you then have to get back down to the bottom, but it is more than worth the shin splints or sore knees from the descent.

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If we were there to see a most remarkable corner of God’s creation, we were also there to reconnect with our dearest friends from our days in Amsterdam, where two of our sons and one of their daughters were born. So it was important to see Neil and Jill’s home towns and meet their relatives and closest friends. These afforded us not only wonderful visits, meals and cups of tea, but also a visit to the largest goat farm in the country and one of the largest dairy farms. Yes, New Zealand has been known for years as a leading wool producer, with the sheep population far outnumbering the humans; but for several years now the dairy industry has surpassed the sheep and wool industry, and New Zealand pumps out milk to a large number of trading partners, including China.

These visits to friends and family also provided visits to some great areas such as Whakatane, called the sunshine capital of the north island (east coast) and the black sand beaches of Raglan on the west coast. We once made the road trip from west coast to east, at basically the same latitude, in almost exactly two hours.

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Being avid JRR Tolkien and Peter Jackson fans, we considered it necessary to visit Hobbiton, the movie set where all the fabled Shire scenes from the Hobbit and Lord of the Rings films were shot. The little village is situated about 10 minutes outside the town of Matamata, in the heart of North Island farm country. While we found no drive in New Zealand boring, the area around Matamata was not particularly noteworthy until we had almost arrived at Hobbiton, where the rolling hills became deeper and the greens somehow became greener, if that were possible. Location manager Doug Comer, who recently passed away, scouted the length and breadth of the North Island by helicopter, and instructed the pilot to touch down on this pristine sheep farm where he knocked on the door and was answered by a Mr. Alexander, who was not particularly pleased to be taken away from the All Blacks (New Zealand's legendary rugby team) on TV. He must have eventually gotten over the inconvenience and has now retired a wealthy man in Matamata, having turned the farm over to his son.

It is impossible not to appreciate the creative and insistent attention to detail at Hobbiton. I don't have the space here to describe the countless ways this is manifest, but the most memorable example is the artificial tree that overlooks Bilbo Baggins' Hobbit hole. With a skeleton of steel, its 250,000 leaves were manually attached. The tree was then painted, only for the crew to learn that it wasn't quite the right color green. They then repainted the tree, making it the most expensive tree in the country, in terms of man hours, with a value of half a million NZ dollars (about USD 415,000).

Whether the visit to the Shire is actually worth the hefty $75 entrance fee (~USD 62.50) is subject to debate, when you realize that just a little more than that gets you a whole day at, say, Disneyworld. For us, it was one of those things we felt we had to experience once, which will do us just fine.
 In any case, New Line Cinema, Peter Jackson's company which owns Hobbiton, probably knows they just get most of their visitors only once.

Adventures in New Zealand - Part I

As I mentioned earlier, my wife and I had the unbelievable privilege of visiting the Land of the Kiwi for two fast weeks during our winter break from teaching. What follows is the first of a handful of posts that relate not only the sights we saw, but also some observations of Kiwi culture from this American's point of view. Hope you enjoy. I’ve just awakened from a dream.

My wife and I, at this writing, are sitting in the Nadi airport in Fiji, waiting for our Fiji Airways flight to Los Angeles. We have just spent two idyllic weeks in New Zealand, hosted by our long-time friends and former colleagues, Neil and Jill. It had been 12 years since we had last seen Neil and Jill, and over 24 years since we worked – and practically lived – together in Amsterdam.

I suppose Becky and I may be developing a reputation as jet setters. Both teachers, we often use our school breaks for international travel, and I suspect many quietly wonder how we can possibly afford such exotic adventures on schoolteacher salaries. The answer is not always the same, but in this instance it was primarily frequent flyer miles. (It is never a secret investment, a rich uncle or an inheritance.) I’ll expound on that in another post; in this one, I just want to rave about New Zealand.

We had done some reading and watched some television shows about New Zealand, and of course were captivated, like everyone else, by the scenery in the Lord of the Rings trilogy and the Hobbit movies. Shortly before we left the States, while looking at

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some photos, I had told Becky not to expect the New Zealand countryside to be that green. Surely it had been enhanced by the photographer. Upon arriving in Kiwiland, my loving wife took great delight in proving me wrong. Whether in the rolling hills of the North Island heartland or the lush foliage of areas such as the Karangahake Gorge, the greens were indeed that green.

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We almost thought we were on a Jurassic Park set, as the landscape is dotted with exotic-looking ferns called ponga. You will find the panga leaf on much New Zealand memorabilia, as it has become a national symbol. Growing out of the top of the panga can often be seen a stalk with a curved top. This young shoot, called a koru, is considered a harbinger of new life and, like the panga leaf, is a symbol that holds a special place in the heart of every New Zealander.

Neil and Jill met us at the Auckland airport and drove us to the northern suburb of Devonport, where we parked the car and boarded the ferry across the Auckland Harbour to the city center. The largest city and commercial capital of New Zealand is

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a vibrant, cosmopolitan, and modern city that invited us to spend more time than we had. We did enjoy strolling along the harbor’s edge and taking in the sights, including a number of sleek yachts that had competed in the America’s Cup race.

Most of our Kiwi adventures were in the countryside and smaller cities. Neil and Jill have recently purchased a wonderful little house on the Bay of Plenty on the east coast of the North Island, about 40 minutes by car from the popular city of Tauranga. They are in the process of renovating the place, with a view of listing it on AirBnB and perhaps other listing services. The charming house is perched on an overlook called Tanner’s Point, where we awoke every morning to a beautiful view of the inlet, framed by the captivating pohutukawa trees with their red, wispy blooms and by the fascinating call of the tui bird. (The tui have two voice boxes and held my wife spellbound by their varied sounds, from gravelly clearing of the throat to full octave intervals to metallic tones a la R2D2.)

Part 2 coming soon!

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Five Reasons to Spend Winter Break in New Zealand

Queenstown

1) It’s a great way to celebrate 30 YEARS of marriage to the same remarkable lady, who shares my wanderlust and curiosity.

2) It’s been our turn for years to visit our besties from Amsterdam days (1985-1990), Neil and Jill White, a Kiwi couple whose hearts have been to knit to ours ever since. Neil and Jill have just recently bought a place on the east coast of the North Island on the Bay of Plenty. How can a place with a name like that not be beautiful?

3) It’s just turned summer in New Zealand. Enough said.

4) New Zealand has been at or near the top of our bucket list for as long as we’ve had a list. The Peter Jackson films have done nothing to discourage that.

5) It’s a great way to redeem the MILES we’ve been saving for years. The only itinerary I was able to find using said miles was on Fiji Airways, so we have to spend a day in Fiji on the way down. Darn.

Watch here or on Facebook for updates and photos!

Register now for the 2015 Cultural Tour!

Lift Off

It's not too early to be planning to join us for the 2015 World to the Wise Cultural Tour! We have a treasure trove of memories waiting for you to create -- from ancient Rome to the sensory delights of Tuscany, from the amazing mazes of Venice to the timeless thrills of Paris, from the gardens of Monet to the cultural feasts of London -- there is something for everyone. Tentative dates have been set for June 2-23 for the entire tour, but it is possible to participate in one or two of the three legs of the tour. NOTE: Dates to be confirmed in the next two weeks.

Get more info here:

2015 Tour info sheet

Registration Packet

We already have quite a sizable number people who have expressed interest in the tour, so don't wait too long -- there is a limit of 20 people per tour. Students under 16 must be accompanied by a parent or guardian.

Announcing the 2015 Cultural Tour!

Announcing the 2015 World to the Wise Cultural Tour! Ask any of the wonderful people who have joined us in the past, and they will tell you this educational tour left an indelible mark on them. The mission of World to the Wise is to educate and inspire Americans with the cultural riches of the world around us. It has been said that "the fool wanders, but the wise man travels;" our goal is to  become wiser by exposing ourselves to other cultural perspectives in order to gain more perspective on our own culture. The exact dates for the 2015 tour have not yet been set, but chances are we will be looking at the first three weeks in June. The tour is designed in such a way as to allow participants to come for all or part of the adventure. Our itinerary generally includes, Rome, Florence and surrounding area (Tuscany), possibly Venice, Paris, and London. Whether you are a history buff, an art aficionado, a foodie, or simply an adventurer, there is something for you!

If you are interested in staying informed of developments for the June '14 tour, please fill in your name and email address in the form to the right. We must meet a certain minimum in order for the tour to make, so help us spread the word! The tour is open to everyone of all ages, but students under 16 must be accompanied by an adult.

Also, look for us on Facebook at World to the Wise to see photos of past tours. "Like" us in order to catch any and all updates.

Let the adventure begin!

The Reason for My Madness, Part I

People often ask me how I came about my love for other cultures and languages. It has recently occurred to me that I have never written this story down, and yet it is one of the most defining chapters in my life. I was born in the state of Wyoming to Texan parents. When I was five years old, my parents embarked on an adventure that would change not only their lives, but would shape my own: they joined a missionary team bound for Perth, Western Australia. I was the second of four boys; the youngest was born in Texas just weeks before we headed Down Under. So with all four boys in tow, stair-stepped in height and age, we boarded a plane in Dallas. After two or three layovers (I remember Honolulu and either Fiji or American Samoa, and Sydney, at whose zoo I held my first koala), we landed in Perth.

Perth-Australia

My memories of Perth are patchy. I remember there was no kindergarten, so I started first grade at five  years old. Because I had no American reference point as far as school was concerned, there were no major adjustments to be made. I also remember the tiny house my parents built at 1 Gill Street, and being such a voracious reader that my teachers had to look for more books for me to read. (I've spent my life trying to recover that love for reading. See my friend Jason Leonard's blog post on the subject at theunitive.com.)

The most shaping experience, however, was not living in Perth for almost four years, but the trip home to the States. For reasons that I can only speculate about now, as both my parents are deceased, they decided to "take the long way home." Rather than flying back the way we had come, they chose to return to the States by ship. Perhaps it was actually cheaper, in the mid-1960's, to sail rather than fly. Perhaps they simply wanted to treat us to an unforgettable adventure. In any case, what could have taken two days instead became a five-week odyssey that changed me forever.

We boarded the SS Canberra, a 45,000-ton liner now dwarfed by many of today's cruise ships. But it was almost brand new, and this 9-year-old thought he had landed in the lap of luxury. Meals for children were served separately, and we could order anything on the menu -- can it get any better than that? I have vague memories of crazy ceremonies that involved being dipped in ice cream and then thrown in swimming pools and men dressed up like Neptune at the crossing of the equator. But what branded me for life were the ports of call along the journey.

colombo-poverty

The first stop was Colombo, capital of Sri Lanka, still called Ceylon at the time. I remember very little of the place, but what I do remember will forever be etched in my mind: as we walked along the dirty streets, among the beggars were children whose legs had been broken up behind them by their handlers, consigned to a life of panhandling. As they scooted along the dusty roads with their tin cups, I remember a melange of horror, helplessness and compassion as I tried to process what I was witnessing for the first time. Lesson 1 for the 9-year-old: there was great poverty and injustice in this world, and I could only be protected from it for so long.

To be continued...

Reflections of a White Man on MLK Day

MLK

Having recently watched the movie Lee Daniels' The Butler, Martin Luther King, Jr. was already on the front burner of my mind. Not long before that, I had seen Twelve Years a Slave, based on the true story of Solomon Northup, a free black man who was kidnapped and sold into slavery in antebellum America. My history students probably tire of hearing me say that to truly appreciate history, you must take the step of putting yourself in the place of the people in question. This same mental tool, one that sets man apart from the rest of creation, is a divine gift. It is imagination. I must at least attempt to imagine what life might have been like for the Jews under Roman rule, for example, or for  Copernicus and Galileo as they were postulating that the earth was round and that, along with the other planets, it revolved around the sun, while the vast majority of the world's population simply assumed that conventional wisdom was correct. Or for the first Europeans who set out to make a home in the New World, leaving religious and political persecution behind them in exchange for extreme living conditions and starvation for some. Or for the natives whose land these strange white men were invading and claiming as their own.

Or for the millions of black Americans who were born into a minority that was treated as second class, at best, for centuries.

The fact of the matter is obvious: we white Americans simply do not know, nor ever have, what it is like to be a minority.

Unless and until we exercise our imagination to peer into the world of the African American, or any other minority, we will be myopic and ethnocentric.

Someone recently posted a comment, or rather a question, on a Facebook post of mine about Nelson Mandela. He asked how South Africa is different because of Mandela's life. I sincerely hope his implication was not that this 95-year life had little to no impact on South African life. Though South Africa is far from reaching the ideals set forth for it by "Madiba," the elder statesman who left us not long ago, the consciousness of that nation is forever changed.

So it is with Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Even though we as a nation have a long way to go before we actually live as if all men are created equal, we are different because of the peaceful war on prejudice and inequality waged by King and his courageous followers.

Imagine how much better it can still be.