Crazy Adventures in the Life of a Redhead

My last night in Baguio was absolutely delightful. It was Wednesday night chapel and they asked me to be the "preacher." I talked about the importance of understanding God's love in one's own life and giving of God's love freely to others not because anyone deserves to be loved but because God loves everyone and sent Jesus to be the ultimate sacrifice for everyone. I was so excited to give the message because it is something about which I have been feeling really keenly lately: the supreme importance of God's love and how one wants to be where that love is displayed. The Happy Family Overseas Training Center in Baguio is a place of light and warmth because they have learned how to give love like God loves: full of generosity and unassuming blessings. The students danced for me and we ate sagobe, which is my favorite Filipino treat of purple yam, sweet potatoes, bananas and tapioca, all cooked together in coconut milk. Yum!!! We all danced and laughed and fel

When I started running cross country in high school, my coach told me rather critically that I should not breathe so hard while running. In spite of my best efforts, I could never manage to regulate my breathing and so was fated to sound like a roaring lion whenever I raced. This memory flashed in my mind this past weekend on a delightful and mildly perilous hiking trip I took in Poblacion, Kabayan, roughly five hours north of Baguio. Exactly a year ago, I was in Kabayan, to visit the same friends—the family of one of my nurse friends in Naperville—and to hike the second highest mountain in the Philippines—Mount Pulag. Since I had already conquered Mount Pulag, I ventured onto a more local route—steep and winding—to see the mysterious mummies, unique to this region of the Philippines and some of the only remaining mummies in the world. More than any other outdoor activity, I adore hiking the most. Something about the majesty of the mountains and the closer proximity to heaven impres

As a final thought about my time I Korea, I thought I would share an account of how Ann underwent a change of looks, so we could look like twins. (I am just kidding, but the results were uncanny and the Koreans at her school and those at the salon surely thought we bore a strong resemblance.) When I arrived in Korea, Ann had beautiful, long, blonde hair, which was radiant but not altogether the style befitting my outdoorsy and no-nonsense friend. Since her hair had grown quite long, she aimed to donate it liked she had in high school to locks of love, so my coming was quite timely in that I promised to take her hair and mail it to locks of love upon arrival in the States. Yes, that means that I have two ponytails of blonde locks in my carry on case. It may be a bit strange but rather noble on both our parts in my opinion ☺ With her Korean co-worker to translate and a human model (yours truly) to look at, Ann’s hair was guaranteed to have great success. Perms are all the rage in Korea

As usual, my stomach and my nose led me to a stroll about the Cheonju—town where Ann lives—marketplace. There is something about food that fascinates me: the way everyone must consume it to live, the manner in which people gather together to eat food, the nutrition lurking in the molecules of all food, good and bad, and the nature of food cultures, which are distinguishable by people groups and regions in the world. These facets and much more draw me to the local markets in all new places, whether those are primitive outdoor markets, farmer’s markets, grocery stores, or convenience stores. Looking at the colors and organization of food always enthralls me. With this excitement, I bundled up against the cold that has pervaded Korea for several months now, and I set out on an hour and a half walk to downtown. (It’s a good thing my love of food couples quite radiantly with my love for movement and exercise.) The walk was monotonous, but the prospect of a great market experience was en

This was my third one-week trip to Korea in the past year, and I have to say that each time has been a completely different experience that always leaves me with the impression that I would like to return someday. Maybe it is the varied nature of each visit. (If you will recall, the first time I traveled to Seoul, it was during the worst snow storm in 100 years; then I went hiking in the beautiful rugged hills surrounding Seoul; and finally on this venture I went skiing and visited a nore-bong: Korean karaoke!) On this occasion, I went to visit my friend, Ann, who I met in Washington, D.C. at American University during the Washington Semester program. She studied economics while I studied foreign policy; we met at a soy milk machine, looking askance at one another’s trays with the assumption that we shared the commonality of being a vegetarian and a healthy eater. I was so pleased when she put her tray down across from me because I knew that we had much in common. In our three and a

One of the reasons I returned to the Philippines in January was to attend a conference called Come to the River (CTTR). Last year I was a part of this conference and I knew I had to return once again to soak in all the love and joy I experienced last year. There are some events in life where you can see the hand of God orchestrating your footsteps to partake of his goodness and blessings. CTTR is one of those events. Three speakers came from the U.S. to teach us from the Bible, the Word of God. These were lessons directed at the spirit inside each of the attendees. I was looking for a place where my spirit could drink and I found it at the river: “And he shewed me a pure river of water of life, clear as crystal, proceeding out of the throne of God and of the Lamb” (Revelation 22:1, KJV). Something about being with a room full of thirsty people, ready to drink from God’s river, the river of life, the river from whence flows all truth and beauty, revived my spirit. The revival of the

Of all the places I have traveled, I have to say Baguio takes the cake for the best climate. I mean, what could be better than cool temperatures in the morning (ranging from 45-55 degrees), which permits you to do your exercises without sweating and to savor the hot beverages we Westerners enjoy, while reaching warm to even hot temperatures in the afternoon (65-85 or even 90 once in a while), wholly confirming the tropical impression you might have when looking at the lush foliage. The day promptly ends after exactly 12 hours of sunlight (the sun rises at 6 am and sets at 6 am) with the cooling of the weather, giving you the opportunity to snuggle in your covers and throw on a sweatshirt, wool socks and a scarf (remember they do not have any heat). I absolutely love it. Plus, the Bible school is situated in the most beautiful section of town that is close to Camp John Hay, a former military rest post where weary soldiers would come for a little R&R. I can imagine why. Added to th