Don't Think, Just Do

To be fair, he looked totally legit. Carlo showed up to Mabuya Camp, a backpackers' inn in Lilongwe, Malawi, in his collared shirt, khakis and computer case in tow. Although my parents had always warned against talking to strangers, the hostel owner's friend, Carlo, was my friend Kaitlyn and my only way to make it to the Lake of Stars Music Festival on Lake Malawi, a mere one hour away in his car. After a full day of traveling, an hour to Senga Bay on the lake with this golf professional-type could not be that bad.

As Carlo's yellow Nissan "bakkie" (pick-up truck) careened down the one-lane highway, narrowly dodging cattle-pulled carts and pedestrians, my parents' fears of my traveling in developing countries seemed almost too close at hand. As he described Malawi's lucrative tobacco trade, he pulled into the only gas station we had seen for miles; I silently cheered for joy. After a few minutes in the food mart, Carlo returned to us clutching two six-packs of hard cider, three bottles of which he proceeded to open on his seatbelt buckle. Drinking and driving, he declared, were necessary components to getting a ride in his car.

I calmed down eventually. Once I let the visions of horrible deaths in explosions peter out of my mind and started belting out "Jitterbug" and "Come on Eileen", I knew the drive would become one of the lasting memories from my semester abroad.

Unfortunately, this "don't think, just do" attitude does not always translate to my life back in the United States. Perhaps it was the finite amount of time we had for our abroad experience that encouraged my somewhat impulsive behavior; I am fairly certain that, were Carlo to hypothetically offer me a ride to the Rosslyn Safeway today, I would politely decline and run away quickly. But, as a senior, I understanding the need for a little "don't think, just do" in my daily routine. With the countdown in my head for days until I leave the Hilltop (261, in case you're curious), I have compiled a Georgetown "bucket list" of all those things I must do before May 22nd: explore the tunnels, go to a Redskins game, visit the Newseum, party in Club Lau, complete 99 days at Tombs. The list continues to grow by the day.

I only wish that it had not taken a trip to Africa and twenty years of life to teach me to value the uncalculated moments in my life. I do not necessarily encourage you to accept a ride from a perfect stranger (although sometimes it can be worth the initial heartburn). However, stepping away from the GPA, the childhood rules, the rigidity that helps support life as Jane Hoya, one allows herself to live freely inside a moment. The thrill is undeniable. Go ahead, accuse me of being a hippie, but at least I have a great story.