The stunning conclusion to the SWEAT saga

SWEAT Day 3 (Friday 8/21)

We woke up early (as usual). Breakfast was pancakes and oatmeal (also usual). Some of us had resolved to rent kayaks for a few hours. We walked to the Lodge, where kayak rentals were handled. After figuring out the rental groups (some people wanted a canoe instead), we went down to the boat house. The boat boy was actually from Keller, Texas (Texan takeover, kids!). Allison and I kayaked around the entire rim of the lake. We stopped at a boulder in the middle of the lake that struck my fancy (it was the only one that had been too far to swim to). I spent a few minutes climbing this cluster of rocks protruding from the lake surface. This, of course, resulted in plenty of scratches, but at least I was satisfied with having conquered every rocky island in the lake. We then kayaked to the dam, gave it a high five, and headed back to the boat house (approximate time: 1 hour).

More sunbathing ensued as we waited for the second shift of kayak renters to get back. Then, we all piled into the lodge for our first "civilized" meal. Of course, an earlier group of our own car campers had already taken over most of the restaurant's resources, and so, we were left with a long wait. We hung out at the bar, where the bartender was so kind as to sneak in a favor with the kitchen and get us not one, but three orders of onion rings (and she only charged us for one! We gave the additional cost of the rest as her huge tip).

After we were fully satisfied, we went back to the lake and planned our group skit, which was going to be performed at the big jamboree when all the hiking groups (and our car camping group) reunited. After repacking our stuff and moving yet again, we joined up with the rest of the hikers and started making new friends while anxiously awaiting skit time.

As for the skits themselves, I must defer to the "what happens in SWEAT stays in SWEAT" rule. Burgers and dogs, smores, and new friends. It was all a good time, but I felt incredibly exhausted and opted to leave that night. I got back to Stanford around 2:30 AM, took a hot shower, and passed out.

The SWEAT saga continues...

Currently: My parents left today to go back to Texas, and with them, left the strange heat wave that pushed our temperatures to the upper nineties. Ironically, it began when they arrived.

SWEAT Day 2 (Thursday 8/20)

And on the second day of SWEAT, our camp leaders saw that campsites near the lake were now open. We repacked everything, moved over, set up camp again (actually, the tent pitching part didn't happen until the evening). And the leaders saw that this was good.

We took a 4 mile hike to Duck Lake (which did, indeed, have ducks). Along the way, we were charged with pairing off with someone we didn't know yet and learning their life story. What followed was probably the most direct getting-to-know-you experience, and it was great. The hike wasn't too difficult, and actually, the views were quite enjoyable. When we reached Duck Lake, we had lunch and then presented our partners to the rest of the group. Let's just say that I think my partner and I won the award for most revealing introductions.

On the way back, I talked to some more students, and I was continuously amazed by the altruism and experience of my classmates. Many have served overseas and have beautiful stories to share. The level of wisdom these people have could fill several books.

I spent the rest of the day at Alpine Lake (whose cold waters I had finally learned to forgive). I explored rocks that I hadn't explored before, and I found a rock that was in deep enough water that I could jump from it. (Clarification: I may have found this rock on the first day, but I can't remember. Also, I did not technically find it. Another family discovered it, and after I verified that all of them survived the plunge, I alerted the Stanford group to its existence.) Immersing myself in that cold water was quite an experience (and a poor substitute for the showers we did not have).

I spent the rest of the day lying on a rock and sunbathing (as you can tell, life was so difficult).

That night, we had spaghetti and played "Never have I ever". At some point, a few of us wanted to spend time at the lake under the stars. Our group of seven trekked through the night with the hope that we wouldn't encounter any of the infamous bears that populated the park. We managed to find a beautiful rocky slope, where we could lay down and soak in the sky. We began to share random facts (favorite mythological deity, fantasy creature we would most like to meet). Along the way, we found out more about each other's lives and saw several shooting stars streak across the sky.

When we got back to camp, I decided to nickname our tent "the adventure squad", since most of its members had either come out to the lake that night or accepted the challenge of jumping off the rock.

And so ended Day 2.

The most eventful week of my life

The title probably creates a certain level of expectation for this post. I didn't win the Nobel Prize. I didn't get married. I didn't save anyone's life. But it was probably the most eventful week (plus a few days) of my life (thus far). Let's backtrack to the Tuesday before last. I woke up really early, got on a plane, and flew halfway across the country to Stanford, California (yes, it has its own "city"). I had absolutely no idea what I was getting myself into. You would think that a summer spent stalking med student blogs and talking to other med students would have prepared me.

Nope.

The first order of business was getting to my apartment. This success can be fully credited to the kindness of my relatives in San Jose who picked me up from the airport and helped me move my stuff. Then, I was off to the SWEAT (Stanford Wilderness Experience yadda yadda) orientation. I was in the car camping group (AKA: Lazy group). We had a fun orientation (you have to love awkward ice breaker games). I ended up having dinner with one of the girls from our group at an on campus cafe, which was surprisingly delicious. Then, I went home and went to bed in order to get up early the next day.

SWEAT Day 1 (Wednesday 8/19)

We piled into a car with no air conditioning and drove towards Alpine Lake Park. On the way, we had food at a quaint cafe, the type of place that serves predominantly breakfast items and is visited by loyal locals. The total road time, not counting the brunch break, was about 4 hours. It was not bad at all because I enjoyed talking to the people in our car. I hear we climbed about 6,000 to 7,000 feet. The view was absolutely gorgeous along the way, especially since I'm not used to viewing mountains. Our car camping group set up camp at a camp site away from the lake (the lake spots were all taken). It was my first experience with setting up a tent.

We ended up driving to the lake. This was the most beautiful lake I had ever seen. The water was absolutely clear (it comes from melted mountain snow) and filled a basin made of rock. Small islands of stone peeked out from under the water in the middle of the lake. If it weren't for those islands, I would not have given in to the temptation of getting in the water. After all, the water was about 65 to 70 degrees (which I consider icy cold). However, the prospect of climbing up on those rocks was too difficult to pass up, and I found myself wading, then swimming to them. After sunbathing on the rocks for a bit with my fellow med students-to-be, we went back to camp, barbequed up a storm, and then enjoyed smore while playing games. The camp counselor, Homer, had plenty to complain about, as we were noisy well past the 10 PM quiet hour. As I settled into my tent that night, I realized this camping trip embodied the very nature of medical school: difficult tasks (which I have never done) which, in their own perverse way, are actually fun.

Now, as tonight was our stethoscope ceremony (but I don't want to get ahead of myself), I am too tired to finish everything. So I will stop here presently and try to finish describing the rest later.

Speak your mind

Passivity annoys me more than anything else. I know that may be hypocritical to say, because I've felt myself slip into such a state before. When I do, I find that life begins to lack its usual vibrancy. I really appreciate it when people speak their mind, even if I don't agree with them. Not that I appreciate constant verbal vomit from a loudmouth. In fact, I try hard not to confuse shyness for passivity. Some of the best, most articulate opinions come from the softspoken. I guess that's maybe why I like quiet, shy guys. Because when they usually start talking, it's not the same annoying smalltalk I've heard over and over again or the cliched jokes/pickup lines that were old ten years ago. I guess I wish more people with intelligent opinions would speak up. It would help a chatterbox like me expand my horizons and learn more about the world. (And help me practice my listening skills!)

And then my muse went into a coma

Before I left for California (for a wedding, not a move), I was bursting with inspiration. Things were a bit hectic there. I definitely had a lot of fun and was exposed to a level of fashion that is not often seen on the streets of Texas. Then, I went to a basketball tournament, which was also really enjoyable. But when I finally arrived home, I found that my inspiration had been sapped completely. I recall that my senior design professor said that college students (particularly seniors) have achieved a delicate balance. This balance is such: the students are equipped with the knowledge and tools to design and implement at a near-professional level; however since they have not been sheltered from the real world, their creativity has not yet been diminished. I was often afraid that as soon as I walked through the Sallyport (a Rice tradition), some part of me would be blocked off, and the creative flow would just stop. Even now, I find it harder to delve into my imagination the way I used to in middle school and high school, when writing ideas came without a second thought. This summer, the creativity has peaked and ebbed, depending on my mood. I find that the more time I spend in nature, the clearer I can concoct. However, this past week and half has shown that a quick plunge into the real world results in a snoozing muse. I'm lucky because I have four more years of schooling before I am truly finished. In the mean time, I'm hoping to find the secret to sustaining creativity while dealing with a conformist society.

It really is all about the climb

Every time I hear Miley Cyrus's song, "The Climb", I cringe a little. Part of me wants to like the message just because I enjoy climbing so much. The other part of me remembers that it's Miley Cyrus singing. But that's besides the point. When I first learned to climb, it was a lot about finishing as fast as possible in order to appease a certain pushy friend of mine who wouldn't let me down from the wall until I had completed the route to his satisfaction. But I think I've come closer in the past few months to understanding the spirit of climbing. It's about much more than getting to the top (though topping out is really fun in bouldering). I have learned to welcome and even enjoy the challenge. Before, I used to pick routes I knew I could easily climb. Now, I like to work on routes for days, even weeks (sometimes not even completing them before the gym switches out the route). I think my favorite part is when people in the gym come over and start contributing to my efforts. Only at a climbing gym could a bunch of strangers feel comfortable coming up to a random person and giving him or her pointers on how to do something. In fact, the veterans will regularly stand there and advise me on my next move. Sometimes, they will even get on the wall themselves and show me how to approach something.

But I digress. I found something truly inspiring, referred to me by Devon, a climber from Canada. It's called Cobra Crack. Evidently this guy, Sonnie Trotter, worked on this climb over and over again (30-40 times) for several years (sometimes he was only able to do 1 or 2 tries a day because of the way the crack would tear at his fingers). Despite the difficulties and the falls, he finally managed to be the first person to ascend Cobra Crack. But he didn't do it alone. People supported him, helped him, and watched him. This is a 5.14 lead climb. And it's a ridiculously awesome video. I think my favorite part is the fact that his friend is with him, cheering him to finish. I hope that someday, I can find such a project route (rated MUCH lower than a 5.14!). The kind of route that I can work on over and over again for weeks, maybe even years...until I finally achieve mastery. Enjoy!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=McHosr_98r0

I chose a medical school

I had to make the decision between Johns Hopkins and Stanford, and I ultimately chose Stanford. I made a large pro-con list (haha, more like Pugh matrices), and Stanford came out on top. Glad I learned something from engineering school. :)