Baby brother Jimmy at a rest stop along Hwy 95, with our Florida-bound wagon

The first travel experience I remember was a road trip in the family station wagon around 1971 from Massachusetts to Florida. My father was to go on a business trip and he asked his boss to give him the budgeted travel money to create a family vacation that we couldn’t afford otherwise. Instead of him flying and staying at a business hotel, he and my mom would pack us five kids, the Coleman stove, and a lot of snacks into our yellow Ford Fairlane 500 wagon. We’d cook our meals at rest stops along Route 95 and all share one room at cheap motels, saving the budget for a day at Sea World.

Me, the big sister, baby brother Jimmy and kid sister Mary, lounging our way down Hwy 5 to Disneyland--party of 10

In 1973 when my father’s job transferred us to Northern California,  my grandparents drove the same Ford wagon across country (another creative deal my Dad made with his employer). When they arrived, we rented a Winnebago and drove the whole crew of 10 (5 kids, 2 parents, 2 grandparents, 1 uncle) to Disneyland, upgrading from Coleman stove to camper cooking.

As I began to raise my own family of two girls with my husband, the travel bug continued to burrow in, sprout wings, and fly. We continued the camp and drive theme when we were young and broke, then adapted my Dad’s approach and took part time work at a hotel chain to score free rooms. As our

Cambodia, Angkor Wat

two  girls got older we ventured farther. Hawaii, Mexico, and Canada were fairly easy.  Costa Rica was a bit more adventurous, on our own with a rented house and car. Then Thailand, Cambodia, and Peru where the awareness of life being different around the world was really setting in.

Eventually, I went to Africa, without the family, on a mission to see where I might help do some good in the world. My deep connection to community support and preserving culture evolved into the travel business I have today.  Next,  a trip to India led to my daughter marrying a man there and our family traveling together again for glorious celebration and blessings. Today, I’ve expanded my tour business to include cultural journeys to India, and formed Nariku Imports to sell products created around the world as a way to support local people and projects while sustaining my own livelihood.

From my days of watching the sky slide by the windows in the “way back” of the Ford wagon, to now feeling at home amongst Maasai beads, Indian saris, and any airport, I have learned that there’s always a way to wander, and you never really know where it will lead.  Get creative on “how” to get there, set priorities on where to spend your money, bring along people you love…and then watch the world welcome you.

Celebrating the Marriage of Ragav and Ishani

Ride sharing with goats in Kenya

Just as I’m feeling grateful that the goat in the back of me in the Toyota wagon isn’t munching on my hair this time, I feel a slight tap at my back and realize he is dropping little poo pellets over the back of the seat. I guess each end of a goat has its unique hazards. I scoot forward to the edge of my seat so that the pellets miss me as they fall, wondering if the driver will make the effort to clear these out for the next passengers…I doubt it. But somehow it all just flows into the day, an errand to deliver male goats to another herd as a sort of goat family planning to strengthen the stock, before stopping off at the cybercafé for some business requiring reliable internet (nice that my US contacts have no sense of the goat poo aroma), before going on for an overnight visit to a new luxury tented camp within Maasai Mara game reserve, where a glass of crisp cold white wine is just right  on the banks of the Mara River, as frogs play their xylophone symphony and the hyenas are whooping it up on the plains. Each of these are scenes in my life, which I have somehow been granted as a gift greater than I could have ever imagined.

Working with SOKO founder Jo on newest Nariku Imports products, supporting local job training and employment with online store at www.narikuimports.com

I keep finding ways to be here in Kenya, in this life, creating ways to share experiences with travelers, and connect with the community to offer whatever bit of help I can to pay my tuition for this amazing curriculum of life learning.  The coursework has no syllabus, just flows through each day’s experience, with pop quizzes to see if I’m paying attention. Here are a few of the lessons I’m practicing these days, with the help of goats, people, and random events:     

• Stuff can come at me from any direction and the sender is just doing what they feel a need to do, so I don’t take it personally. I protect and care for myself, without making their behavior or viewpoints my concern.
• Variety truly is the spice of life. I stay open to the joys and humor of the simplest of experiences, as well as the indulgences that a life with money and privilege can provide—it is all here for my experience and pleasure, to be received gratefully and without greed. Welcoming what may come is so much better than the futility of trying to prescribe what should be.
• Do what is at hand at the moment, even if it seems out of synch with what comes before or after. I know it is all some part of what I am called to do here on Earth and will build toward the right outcome for living my life to my own personal highest potential. I just stay focused on doing the next
  

  Rural school teacher happy to receive play dough, pencils, pens, and other school supplies that were donated by recent travelers with Susan Olofson Travel

  right thing.

I am still striving to master these and many other simple lessons, which only seem to reveal another layer of learning each time I think I’ve made progress. But I guess that’s the point—Life School is ALWAYS in session. I’m so glad to be a full time student.

*******

Shop at Nariku Imports to support sustainable communities

Contact Susan Olofson Travel to plan a cultural expedition to Kenya.

Ishani stands in the door of her new home in India

She was born to me as Lauren Deslaurier Olofson, her name a blend of her mother’s and father’s ancestors. Recently I followed her almost exactly halfway across the planet Earth—13 hour time difference, 9,000 frequent flyer miles—to let her introduce me to her new Hindu life, further deepening when she is married in Hindu ceremony in December…she will be Ishani Lauren Naidu.

I always knew she was never fully mine—a deep and wise soul entrusted to me because I would see the wisdom and magic in her eyes from her first gaze at me. I would revel in it, and sometimes fear a bit of the weighty responsibility of raising such a precious gift. And I always sensed the grandness of her soul’s future path, though I never could have imagined the details. I weep a bit now to have arrived at the day of planning her launch into the flight of her new life. Traveling to her future home in Coimbatore India to joyously plan her wedding and meet the family who will now be the center of her daily life. It used to be with me, in my little Berkeley, California house, having her come and go on her bicycle, cooking chai in the afternoon and spiced milk at night, setting me straight on my own wobbly journey toward becoming my full self in the world. And before that, a part of the four of us in Livermore, growing up with her sister, Dad and me.

Ishani and Susan join Ragav's grandmother in her weekly Cow Puja, giving thanks for all the family receives and asking for continued blessings.

And now her amazing and special and powerful future is here, and I am so grateful to have grown enough in myself to have faith in the rightness of such possibilities.  We who have held her thus far will loosen the ties while fortifying the family bonds so that no matter where she lives or travels she will always be part of our “stick together” family culture.  And now we have a new son, Ragav, and his entire family to add to our family.

I’m glad to have gone to see for myself that she is loved and cherished in her new home, and that she is very happy there. And she knows I have left a part of myself behind so that she can feel me there any time as she lives the beautiful future of her destiny and choosing.

Ragav slips the engagement ring on Ishani's finger during a Hindu engagement ceremony in California.

Maasai Women Beading Jewelry

There are amazing gems of beauty all over the world, in the form of people, places, things, and actions. It’s what I love about traveling and why I started my travel business. Sometimes when I’m having a smiling moment of watching a mother sit on a cow hide in the shade of her hut, toddler climbing over her shoulder for attention, juggling the beads and wire in her lap as they become vibrant jewelry in her hands, I think how good it is that she can earn a living with her talents while remaining in the environment of her family and home. All over the world, including the US, the details of the scene change but the heart of it remains the same. Families balancing the demands of making a living with the quality of life they choose in the place they wish to live.

One of my dearest dreams is to support people being able to live within their culture and families through sustainable income, as well as help people explore and appreciate the beauty of what others in the world have to offer. My tours are one way I’ve tried to do this, and recently I embarked on a way to bridge the marketplaces of the world with people like me who are drawn to the treasures created in every corner of the globe. I recently launched an online store, Nariku Imports, to sell the beautiful things I find being created along my travels, or through friends who are creating treasures around the world.

Nariku Imports Offers Global Products to Sustain Global Communities

Nariku Imports offers authentic, globally sourced goods from artisans and craftspeople in Africa, India, Nepal and beyond. My mission is to market fairly-traded products that benefit both producers and consumers through economic fairness and mutual respect, and build support for a sustainable system of trade in global communities. In addition to local people benefitting from their share of sales, Nariku Imports will donate 5% of quarterly profits to nonprofit organizations serving the areas from which our products are sourced.

Through this international marketplace, people in small towns and villages can sell their products to more people so that they are able to earn a living without leaving their homes, pay for educating their children to continually improve their living conditions, and share the uniqueness and beauty of their culture with others in the world who may or may not be able to travel to meet them. The name Nariku was given to me by the Maasai elders and medicine people I have come to know in Kenya. It means a person who goes forth in advance of others to see what is there, and then comes back to lead them to good things. I hope to do this in some small way by sharing travels and treasures from around the world.

You can learn more about exploring the world through our cultural tours at www.susanolofson.com, and check out the collection of worldly goods at www.narikuimports.com.   We’ll have new products all the time (I’ll be in Africa and India in August to stock up), and I welcome ideas for other products to include.

May you live well in all the beauty the world has to offer, and do some good while you’re enjoying it.

Susan adding to her Maasai bead collection

A cup of chai with a bride's family, just before the wedding

When was the last time you truly felt you had all you needed, all you wanted? When you felt content with what you have, or who you are, or what you’ve done? Imagine the relief and release of pressure in feeling that enough is enough.

During my latest trip to Kenya I sat in a Nairobi coffee house with a friend who lives and works in the city, leading a business owner’s life far removed from the rural village where I spend much of my time. She asked me, “What is it about Kenya that keeps you coming back, and loving being here?” Without hesitation I heard myself say “I am moved by the spirit of the people here who know how to live with enough. To accept graciously what they have, make it work, and of course continue to work hard to improve their situation, but without bitterness for what they don’t have. ” This answer simply came out of me without thinking, which usually means it’s the most honest answer of all, and I was grateful to hear the clarity in it. Among all the other detailed answers I could give about why I love Kenya, …the spirituality connected with nature and ancestors, my joy in helping people pursue their dreams for their future, the feeling of connectedness across cultures and providing a bridge to that experience for others… at the heart of it all is this sense of having enough, being enough, doing enough.

Farmer's Market, Kenya Style, every day

Here at home, I find Americans incredibly generous and compassionate (politics and exceptions aside, I believe this is the true American spirit). But there is an undercurrent of “not enough” in our thinking and living that I didn’t notice until I went out into the world. There is often a line crossed beyond being industrious to being unfulfilled. People sometimes visit developing countries and say “The people are poor, but they’re happy.” I’d say that nobody is happy about a lack of food, greater risk of illness and death, or poor protection from natural and human elements, but some people have the gift of appreciating what’s going right instead of what’s going wrong. Maybe it’s just easier to see the brilliance of a joy when it is set against a simpler, less cluttered field—the less you have, the more you appreciate what you do have.

Grateful for clean flowing spring water....but it must still be carried home

How much is enough? I think it’s not a measurement, or even a restriction on enjoying all the riches and pleasures of life, but rather a matter of waking up from the mindlessness of getting and having, noticing whether there’s anything at all you can share instead of hold onto, checking in on your “getting” to see if you’re medicating yourself with stuff rather than noticing the small joys of living.

When I returned to the US, I watched the movie “I Am”, a documentary in which Tom Shadyac asks some of today’s most profound thinkers, two questions – What’s wrong with our world, and what can we do about it?  The theme of “enough-ness” was prominent in his message, traversing ideas of what really makes us happy, whether human nature is collaborative or competitive, and arriving at his discovery that there’s more right with people and the world than he ever imagined. I encourage you to see it for yourself.

Enough. That’s what I want to have, and to be, and to give. No more, no less. So simple to say it, not as easy to live it.

Laundry to be washed in the river

A Meditative Moment on the Shore of the Ganges in Rishikesh

After giving blogging a try on a recent trip to India, I discovered that while it was hard to get motivated and stay inspired, it was also a chance for me to pause and put to words what I was experiencing out in the world, and people actually seemed to enjoy reading it.  So I’ve decided to keep on sharing my impressions as my expanding travels in the world unfold. I invite you to subscribe, comment, enjoy…and together we will continue seeing and feeling the world.

It’s a big and small world

Women Gathering in Maji Moto Village, Kenya

The world appears both bigger and smaller to me every day. In a day’s time I can shift to the completely opposite side of the planet, truly a world away, starting a new day in a place that on the surface is no place like home. I shifted three times in 2010, a new record for me that added up to about five months in Kenya and India, with stretches of time in between for my American life. Each shift required 24+ hours of planes and airports in each direction, during which the look of the people, sound of the language, and taste of the food gradually morphed from the “here” to the “there”.  I’m grateful for the travel time, allowing me to acclimate to the changing atmosphere like you would the oxygen levels on a mountain.

With each shift, I switch between the joys of flush toilets and the luxury of bathing in a natural hot spring gazing up through acacia tree branches; the juiciness of a smoky steak grilled in my sister’s backyard and the sip and scent of perfectly spiced masala tea outdoors every afternoon. People are dressed in designer jeans, business suits, shukas (maasai blankets), or saris…all good clues for where I might be at the moment. No oxcarts on the streets of Berkeley, no tuk tuks on the plains of Africa, and no parking meters in Delhi (well, no parking at all really). More good clues to where I am in the world.

A Gujjar woman cooks chapati in Haridwar, India

And then the differences begin to blur as conversations flow deeper. Will there be work for me to earn money to provide security, food, education for my family? Do we have healthy conditions and healers and medicines we need for the children to grow strong? Who will care for our elders and how will the children know what we’ve learned through the years if we don’t all live together? What if people make choices for their own benefit that harm the greater good? How can we protect the natural, sacred, healing beauty of our environment? Our differences begin to shrink, and I know that throughout my days as a mother, daughter, sister, wife, friend, community-minded citizen, my heart and theirs are filled with the same joys and worries. I am comforted to know this big neighborhood is in it together (tukapamoja as they say in Swahili).

Birthday party with Maasai family, receiving matching earrings

At times when I am “out there”, wherever I am, I wonder if my child self, playing in the woods of my backyard in Massachusetts, ever dreamed of this grown up life I am living. Could she have imagined that the equivalent adventure to riding her banana seat bike across town to the playground summer camp would be tucking into a coach class seat for 24 hours to reach the villages of Africa and India? The world was too big then for her to see all of the possibilities, but I like to think that somewhere in her heart…with wild hair flying like the fringe on her handlebars, daring to take the shortcut through the cemetery…she was cultivating her desire to let loose and have the courage to venture out into the world to make new friends and come home and tell those at home about having a great day.

The bigness or smallness of the world is up to us. We can ride our bikes across town, or connect through a few jumbo jets across continents to land wherever we long to be. It’s like a big summer camp out there, waiting for us to show up and learn something, have some fun, and see what the other kids brought for lunch.

Making new friends in Haridwar India

Shy Gujjar Tribe Girls

These are my final hours in India before my 4am flight that transports me from roadside Hindu temples to the spirit of Christmas that’s surely building at home. I’ll share a few final glimpses of life here in India as I prepare to travel home. 

Getting Around. Here’s a tip about street maps in India… they’re verbal. You show the driver of the tuk tuk or car the exact address of where you wish to go, they assure you with a wobbly nod and a smile and “sure, sure madam, ok” that they know just where you’re

Animals and Machines Mix on the Street

going, and they begin to drive. Then, sometimes 50 feet along the route, he begins to stop to ask for directions from other drivers at the stop light, school children waiting for a bus, street vendors, anyone within earshot over the engines and honking. Their collective advice, accompanied by more head bobbling and smiles, arm gestures to the right to direct you to take the first left, somehow eventually leads you to exactly where you want to go. This unfolds amongst a wild array of buffalo drawn carts piled  to the sky with sugar cane, circus-quality glitz on the front of trucks, and families of four on motorcycles, saris flashing past.  People are moving through life with a flourish that almost camouflages the dust covered trees and the people living on the street or in small tents close to the road. It is a welcome diversion of attention to what is good and beautiful.

Saris. Colors and sparkles flowing from motorbikes, swishing along

Irresistable Sari

crowded streets, standing out amongst the field workers…the sari is the vibrant flash put on every Indian scene. During a late evening sari shopping spree with the women of Vedika, led by the teacher Shunyaji, I was seduced by the lavish fabrics unfurled in front of us and I bought myself a sari. I had to do it once I saw it pleated and wrapped and draped around me. I have no idea how Indian women wear these lengths of cloth so effortlessly and gracefully—I’m going to need some help but can’t wait to try.

Villagers. The Gujjar Tribe are a seminomadic tribe in northern India, still

Gujjar Woman Making Chappati

living in their traditional ways of dress and herding buffalo, largely removed from more developed civilization. They are allowed to remain living in the Rajaji National Park while they work with the government to find another place to live. I was struck by the similar lifestyle and traditions with the Maasai people I have spent so much time with, and was warmed by seeing another culture being protected and honored. An afternoon of sipping spiced tea with buffalo milk in their homes and seeing hem live their daily life in the wild was a unique gift, rarely shared with tourists, thanks to our guide Sanjeev who knew our interest in meeting the indigenous people of India.

Wishes. Whispering into the ear of Nandi, Shiva’s bull, at the

Tying a String for a Wish

Someshwara Shiva temple in Bangalore; tying a string at the Mansa Devi Temple, temple in Haridwar, to return and untie when your wish has been granted; floating a boat of leaves filled with flowers and candles down the Ganges in Rishikesh…so many ways to ask the Divine for what you wish in your life. I did it all and joyously await what will come.   

There’s so much more to share when we next meet. Thanks for following my maiden voyage in the blogosphere. I hope you enjoyed what little I’ve managed to share along the way so far.

I’m on my way home.

A Glimpse of the Dalai Lama

His smile and laughter, sweet spirit and strength are everything I expected they would be, and I am so grateful to have been in his presence. I wish I could say it was a private audience in which I was able to speak my gratitude for the gifts he brings to our world and to receive a personal blessing.  As it was, I only saw him entering and exiting a ceremony at a nunnery near his home, and I sat amongst the small gathering outside the sanctuary to hear his broadcasted voice and chanting.

We were told of the ceremony by the staff at our hotel, the Chonor Guest house in Dharamsala. It is part of the Norbulingka Institute  for which the Dalai Lama is Chairman, established to preserve Tibetan culture while they live in exile in India, waiting for the Chinese to give them back their country. After an early morning taxi ride into the mountainside on roads that seem more like goat trails, we come across the road lined with young women in red robes, holding flowers, waiting to greet His Holiness.

Entering the Nunnery Gates

We enter the gates of a small compound with a school, dormitories, and sanctuary for girls who have chosen a spiritual life and will receive training and education. We are able to stand just where the Dalai Lama will exit his car when he arrives. As the motorcade swishes in, the door opens, and there he is, radiating the joy he always seems to have in being wherever he is at the moment. He is whisked into the sanctuary, and we take our place on the lawn with about 150 people from the community including many monks and Tibetan refugees, to sit and listen.

I am served a buttery, sweet, salty Tibetan tea

Everywhere is decorated with flower garlands and banners. Soon the young red-robed girls are flowing through the seated crowd, bearing large silver teapots with long graceful spouts, held with a white cloth handle, and a gold paper fan in the spout. They pour traditional Tibetan butter tea for everyone, a sweet and salty watery hot drink. Then they bring a small bowl to us and fill it with a tasty rice mixed with cashews, raisins and other sweet stuff I can’t identify but like a lot.

The ceremony begins and I know right away when His Holiness is speaking even though I can’t see him from outside. I don’t understand his Tibetan words, but I feel the energy of his love and I am so happy to be sitting here with others who cherish him so much. The chanting begins, his voice among them, and it vibrates through my body as I look with half opened eyes at the grey peaks of the Himalayas spiking over the brightly decorated entrance to the sanctuary.  When all of the speeches are done inside, he emerges to leave, walking just feet away from where I stand, and I soak up the sight and sense of his greatness.  

It may seem like a minor brush of an encounter, but it was a wonderful experience that continues to warm my heart.

Sanctuary Entrance

So, India it is. On Tuesday, November 30^th I fly to Delhi, then drive to Haridwar and Rishikesh (that’s the Ganges part), on to Dharamsala, where I hope to meet His Holiness the Dalai Lama (booking a room at the guest house across the street from his residence should not be perceived as stalking), then flying to Bangalore for an Ayurveda conference with Lauren (her school traveling here was the inspiration for my trip), more driving to Coimbatore for Panchakarma (Ayurveda healing treatments), then flying home December 20^th in time for family Christmas.

I have dreamed of India for several years, knowing I would eventually go there to experience the spiritual richness, the colorful culture, and the all the scenes of life in such a beautiful and crowded place. As one friend said on welcoming me to India “be ready to have ALL your senses jostled”. I can’t wait.