#i will literally be translating a verse and realize a couple of hours have passed by

[misfortunegirl]

i actually have a new hobby i got obsessed with and thats translating songs to japanese 🤓

[kumiegeire]

Stars ⭐️

Here in the 21st century society, we live life in the fast lane: we’re always distracted, perpetually caught up in one thing or the other, perhaps even sleep-deprived on the regular with the dark circles to prove it. With this much constant demand for our attention, have you ever stopped to just look up at the beauty of the night sky?

January 31, 2018, was heralded as an extravaganza for star gazers, boasting a trifecta lunar eclipse that had not been seen for over a 150 years. The “super blue blood moon” was literally a once-in-a-lifetime spectacle, and I, for one, was not about to let it pass me by. I quickly realized that I wasn’t alone in my sentiments, and what felt like half the city was crammed into the observatory that fateful night, buzzing with more impatience than anticipation by that point.

My friends and I ended up spending the night camped out at the outdoor parking lot, passing around a tiny telescope and interesting facts about the bejeweled night sky. It was in the tranquil lull of those hours, under a patchwork of unusually bright stars scattered across the canvas of the sky, that I first learned to identify the three consecutive stars in a row that makes up Orion’s belt.

A couple of days past the eclipse, I slipped out my front door, sunk into a splitting beach chair on the the verge of breaking, and gazed up into the quiet, darkened sky.

The stars never have to fight for their space in the sky.

Lying there in the dark, it struck me that stars don’t fight for their positions, nor strive at circling around their orbits. They know exactly where they are supposed to be, hung in the expanse of heavens to give light to earth [Genesis 1:17] in twinkling constellations.

In fact, the Bible makes references to some of the constellations we know today. The oldest book of the Bible, Job, has a record of verses such as “He is the Maker of the Bear and Orion, the Pleiades and the constellations of the south.” [Job 9:9], “Can you bind the chains of the Pleiades? Can you loosen Orion's belt? Can you bring forth the constellations in their seasons or lead out the Bear with its cubs?” [Job 38:31-32].

Fast-forward right through the dusty passage of time since Job’s generation to our present day, and it seems that these constellations barely waver in their spots, even after thousands, and thousands of years marked down in history. They still make up the same constellations, still shine proudly with the same glory God gave them, still fulfill God’s purpose for them. They don’t dispute or compare how prominent they are, they don’t worry about how brightly they shine, they don’t labor to prove that they can shine.

All they do is beam in the darkness, the way they are made to do.

Man’s creations are inherently inferior to God’s.

Enraptured by the stars as I was, I fished my phone out in an attempt to immortalize the beauty for nights stuck indoors with nothing but a ceiling to look up to.

It didn’t work. No matter how hard I tried, no matter how many times I tapped my finger against my phone’s screen in an attempt to force it into focus, all my phone could work out was a blanket of dark, dark sky, without the sprinkle of winking lights to pin it back in place. My phone could not capture the stars.

There I was, glancing between two prized creations: the phone, the work of man’s hands, and stars, the work of God  ‒ how inferior mankind’s handiworks are in comparison! If we lived life on God’s scale, we would fall short every time, small, limited, and myopic as we are. Nothing we do can ever capture the beauty of God’s creations.

Translate that into the rollercoaster of our daily lives, and you’ll see that that same idea includes people too. We, who are His masterpiece (Ephesians 2:10), can’t live by the definitions created by the world because we’re more than expectations, we have a purpose bigger than others’ judgement of who we are. Don’t allow anyone else to convince you into believing that you are an empty night sky when you’re woven in with the brightest stars to trailblaze a path amongst the clouds. You are who He says you are, not who others say you are.

You have to lie down to see the stars.

Picture this: you’ve got a sky full of stars and no telescope to look through with defining clarity. What do you do? Standing or sitting up with your head tilted back leaves you with nothing but a neck cramp from the upward strain. Lying back, on the other hand, allows your gaze to snag naturally on the expanse of the sky, and lets you enjoy the splendor without the ache.

That is, you have to be in a position of rest to savor the magnificence of God’s work in your life. This doesn’t mean that God needs an audience. Just as God still hangs the stars in their place even when you’re not lying around to watch His artistry, God does still work when you’re not in a position of rest. You would however, have to content with the ache.

(More often that not, we don’t even look up at the stars. We don’t notice God’s elaborate work in our lives until something huge happens, just as the general populace takes minimal notice of the night sky until a phenomenon like the eclipse is splashed all over the mainstream media ‒ today, if it’s God’s absence and distance that you feel, combat the thoughts with the knowledge that God never leaves you nor forsakes you [Deuteronomy 31:6], and He is working behind the scenes to prepare you for the plans He has in store for you. Plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future [Jeremiah 29:11]. The God who loves you, who calls you His child, who created the heavens and the earth, and gave you your very breath, He is for you.)

There’s much we can learn from just taking a breather to gaze up into the stars. Why not give it a shot? What revelations do you receive from looking at the stars?

Psalm 8:3-5 When I look at the night sky and see the work of your fingers— the moon and the stars you set in place— what are mere mortals that you should think about them, human beings that you should care for them? Yet you made them only a little lower than God  and crowned them with glory and honor.

Isaiah 40:26-29 Look up into the heavens. Who created all the stars? He brings them out like an army, one after another, calling each by its name. Because of his great power and incomparable strength, not a single one is missing. O Jacob, how can you say the LORD does not see your troubles? O Israel, how can you say God ignores your rights? Have you never heard? Have you never understood? The LORD is the everlasting God, the Creator of all the earth. He never grows weak or weary. No one can measure the depths of his understanding. He gives power to the weak and strength to the powerless.

[talldarknsexy]

Escapades in Egypt

After a night on the ferry we docked at the port in Aswan. We were just adjacent of the famous high dam that holds back lake Aswan from the Lower Nile and prevents seasonal flooding. A ferrymen agreed that I should stage my bike with the rest of the cargo. It was on the top deck anyways and I didn't want to have to follow after the 200 other people. So, I placed my bike next to some stuff, but this upset some of the otherwise friendly Sudanese mamas who then started yelling at me. The ferryman and a few others came to my defense which just aggravated them even more. The ferryman offered to move my bike and in the confusion knocked over their coffee pot straight onto their sleeping mat without noticing. Upon seeing this, they started screaming at me as I was now wheeling my bike away from the scene. Anyways, I shimmied my bike back to the top deck, said goodbyes to my Sudanese ferry buddies, and headed through customs where an Egyptian official would get frustrated with my broken zippers and literally rip apart my tool bag. "What this???" He questioned about my patch kit. "Clearly, you're not a golfer... It's a patch kit." From the dock, I rode just 15km to the city of Aswan and was greeted by many a "Welcome to Egypt!" The last 2km however, I took a shortcut that went through the town's dumping grounds. A dystopian scene with piles of garbage still burning, hazy with smoke, and growling with packs of wild dogs lurking around. Just a few blocks away, emerged David's hostel. He opened it up 3 years ago and runs little profit but his incentive was to perfect his English. He had done this already, as it was expert level, but still failed to pass Australia's English entrance visa exam. I started to wonder if I would be able to, personally. This is an extra requirement for Arabic countries and even though David is of the 10% Christian Coptic minority, the same bias applies. Anyways, he's since given up on Australia and runs the hostel (out of his basement) with a true passion I've seldom seen. It was a nice place and had wifi and clean tap water, both of which I hadn't experienced from a hostel in many months. That and, not to mention, I had access to supermarkets and ATMs again after Sudan. I met an Israeli guy there, Amir. This was unusual, because outside of the Sinai, Israeli backpackers are almost unheard of in Egypt. I went out that night with him and another Dutch fella. David dropped us off in town and we went to an amazing museum- history, artifacts, artwork, mummies, the works... Then grabbed some food and scoured the riverfront for a place that served alcohol. And after over a month, I finally had a beer. Amir had expressed some interest in the biking, and as always, I'd told him anyone is welcome to join. Except unlike all the others... Amir actually did. We went to the market with David the next day and picked one out from the China bike shop in town for $70. We scrounged some China parts from the market: mirror, tube, racks, bell, and a red $4 child's helmet. We grabbed some empty food bins and zip ties and rigged him some hobolo panniers. He'd already been carrying camping and cooking gear, so we slapped everything together quickly. There was no need to come up with a cheesy nickname for the bike as it was already labeled the "Flying Pigeon." The Flying Pigeon was washed in neon green and fake chrome- she was glorious... Amir had gone from backpacker to cycle tourist for less than $100 and under 24hrs. We set off the next day for the Flying Pigeon's native voyage. She and Amir did well. And I had not only riding company, but an Arabic translator, as Amir spoke some. That day we visited an enormous temple which we had almost entirely to ourselves. Back on the road, some kids had hurled rocks at us. Amir had surely had similar experiences in Israel as he wasn't phased in the slightest and didn't even so much as turn his head. We ate liver sandwiches for lunch, got invited for tea with some elders, and then camped by the Nile and took a dip at sunset. The next day, we rode off and stopped again midday for lunch and another temple visit, this one was in impeccable condition, but had much more visitors as the Nile cruise boats stopped here. Here, the fat waddling tourists de-board the luxury Nile ferries only to be taken to the temples in horse drawn chariots. Amir and I watched one throw an egyptian note down from a chariot down to a "begging" child. "Becom?" I asked, and the kid flashed me a $20egp note. "Sweets?" I asked. To which he smiled and nodded. But, the temples themselves were amazing. Amir was fairly versed in Egyptian mythology and was able to point out the various gods and some of the stories. We marveled around and contemplated the feasibility of construction and the complexity of their religious beliefs, both dating back almost four thousand years. Before leaving town, we stopped at a China bike shop to get Amir a new rear tire which had almost quit in only about 100km. The shopkeeper insisted we invest an extra dollar in a different looking tire. "Hatha afdal?" I asked. "Yees! Made in Indeea!" He happily exclaimed. Now, with Amir's Arabic, police checkpoints had been a breeze, but I'd warned him that there might come a time when that would change. And rightfully so, as it soon did. We got held up at one and Amir insisted with them that we did not need an escort. The captain would just reply that he's Egyptian and it is his duty to protect us. So, off we rode with a police truck behind us and 5 armed men. They chugged behind us that afternoon and wouldn't allow us to stop and honked at any kids that tried to high five us. And after a lot of argument on where we could stay that night, we ended camped out back a police station. The next day we reached Luxor. We, being us two cyclists and the different crew of 6 police behind. We rolled up and checked into the wrong hostel, but with the same name. Something we didn't realize until a few days later. Anyways, we spent the 2-3 days exploring temples, eating ridiculously good and inexpensive food (sometimes possibly pigeon,) and did a Nile cruise with some friends. In the end, Amir decided to ditch the bike before leaving Luxor. He was a little fed up with police and with how it would soon unfold, I certainly can't blame him. He got lucky though and sold the Flying Pidgeon to "Bob the Balloon Man" who ran a hot air balloon business and lived next door to the hostel. So, most cyclists have police escort for maybe half of Egypt. Mine was a little excessive. But, a combination of my poor Arabic, my American passport, and me traveling solo may have exasperated things. About 50km outside of Luxor, after waiting another half hour at yet another police checkpoint, they had me take an unexpected turn. Soon, I found myself on the remote desert highway, but with the police still chugging behind me. This road would be great for cycling except for the fact that I had zero food and had no idea were I was staying. Truthfully, the police probably had no idea either, they just want to drive you to the next checkpoint so they can finish their shift. It was a long, 160km day that ended with a hard climb that came out of nowhere. This I didn't finish until well into the dark and cold. But, luckily the fellas at the ambulance post I stayed at were pretty hilarious and helped to cheer me back up. The following day was even worse, however, it was actually quite cold and the police had me do ~120km. By the end of it I was experiencing some pretty bad knee pain and was pedaling with only one foot. It was another night staying with an ambulance crew and we shared some food together. I was pretty defeated, however and worried about my knee. I was woken up around midnight by a police officer who came in to verify I was there. I woke up around 3:30am and at the upon agreed upon time of 5am, was told to wait another hour until 6am so the officer could go back to sleep. After 30km of pedaling with one leg, I reached another checkpoint. Here, I'd been told I wouldn't need escorts... At least for a while until outside of Cairo. This clearly wasn't the case for me though. I'd explained it many times in broken Arabic and English. It was a desert with nothing... Not even a blade of grass lives out here. And I was getting sick and injured trying to follow their checkpoint regiment. I had one of my ambulance buddies who showed up there help explain the lack of need. He did a great job, but they just insisted on saying it was for my safety. It almost worked, but they just tailed behind me a half kilometer, pretending not to be there. Once, a young couple in a sedan with a bike rack pulled over to I believe offer me a bottle of water. The police truck sped up, pulled over in front of me, and ushered them away. Mid afternoon I was pretty broken. Struggling to pedal with one, now very fatigued leg. The wind picked up and I must have been doing about 5km/h because a policeman got out to jog past me. I pulled into a rest stop and laid down just praying that when I opened my eyes, the police would be gone. Instead, another police car showed up and there must have been about 8 or so policemen altogether. I'd had enough, and for the 100th time, loudly voiced my opinion that they were wasting there time. At one point, the officer called his cousin to help translate. He finally got the message and told me "Okay, continue as you like." I was incredulous, but he insisted and I thanked him, apologized, and gave him a hug. They sped off, but sure enough, I spotted them parked up the road about a kilometer. I said fuck it. Pulled off the road and camped behind a dune, just 500m from where they left me. It was a splendid night camped alone, resting my knee. But unfortunately, it was still painful in the morning. I rode about 20km to a petrol station and filled up on snacks. The guys there were super helpful, but I saw one suspiciously ran off to an ambulance post nearby, so I took off. Sure enough, about 30 mins later, I was surrounded by police. They either arrested me or "saved me" depending on who you ask. Apparently they had the entire region's police force looking for me. I was approached first by a 3 star officer so fat he was out of breath stepping out of his truck. He took my passport and made some frantic calls. The two petty officers with him wanted to know how I was able to survive a night in the cold. They then loaded my bike onto the truck and we sped off to a police control checkpoint. I wasn't really sure if I was being arrested of not. In short, I was there for the next 4-5 hours. The fat officer and his peers were on the phone half the time and all the other, lower ranking officers wanted to hang out, get me food and drinks, and take selfies. I wasn't cuffed or anything, but at one point I did step out of the cab to grab something from my bike and was met by several jumpy officers. We started to drive off twice but officer Mohammed Fatasfuck would receive a call and we'd turn around. It was finally night when we drove to Al Minya. We parked, unloaded the bike and I was ushered into a tourist police office that was something out of an 80's KGB headquarters. I was brought into an office where I met with another officer Mohammed and later his boss, officer Mohammed. They ordered three mango drinks and as nice as they were, I made sure That I was the last to sip mine. We talked for a while and they were incredulous that I'd spent the night sleeping in the desert. Terrorists, snakes, foxes, and desert lions were among their chief concerns. The latter of which haven't even existed for several decades. Anyways, Mohammed and Mohammed assured me under no uncertain terms that I wasn't doing anymore cycling in Egypt. They'd initially asked was how much I could afford for a travel company to orchestrate the remainder of my trip. So, they weren't exactly reassured at my plans to stay in an unnamed hostel in Cairo and then bus to Israel or Jordan. They took it upon themselves to organize it for me at no cost. They made some calls and arranged a hotel that night, a bus the next day, and a hotel for the first night in Giza. After that, they claimed, I was free to do as I liked- or so was their claim. I didn't get to the hotel until around 11pm. It was nice, but if I were ever to have a room bugged with cameras, this would have been it. The next day I was escorted by flatbed pick to the bus station and after the bus, again to the hotel. The hotel was actually more of a resort... A FIVE STAR resort as was published there. They had no reservation in my name. The manager was very agitated with me. The police escort didn't want to get involved but called up the rank to a General Mohammed. About 2 minutes later the front desk's phone rang. The manager (Also Mohammed) went white in the face, hung up, and checked me in with profuse apologies. I have no idea what exactly was said over the phone, but can only imagine the threats that were made by General Mohammed of the Tourist Police. Anyways, I was told that I wouldn't be leaving the premises until checkout the next day. So, basically was under resort arrest with an officer positioned in the lobby. This place was fucking unreal though and my suite was the size of an apartment. I'm sure I couldn't afford anything off the menu, so rationed the leftover biscuits and crackers that I'd stocked from the petrol station and filtered the tap water. This I did, ironically, on my private balcony overlooking the crescent pool. I also was pretty numb and reflective. Here I was, on my balcony in a 5 star resort, that I did not pay for, with a personal bodyguard out front. Not only did I not deserve this, but I was told the two officers I'd evaded both lost a year's salary. Their account was much different than mine, but I'd asked the Mohammeds to go easier on them if they had a say. The next morning there was a small breakfast. Just kidding. There was a LOT of breakfast. I ate enough for a week. I had thought that morning I would be free, at least per what one of the Mohammeds had originally told me. Certainly not the case though. So, an officer was waiting out front with a flatbed. The officer's name was... Well, it was Hani. We drove to the tourist district of Giza where I thought I would be checking into a hostel. But first, General Mohammed wanted to meet with me. After some waiting and joking around with Hani (as he at least recognized how ridiculous this was) he ushered me through the security and ticket booth. And all of sudden I was facing the pyramids. Not at all how I'd anticipated it... But their presence was immense and the brief experience, surreal. Two military jeeps pulled up and 4 generals in suits came out. I met General Mohammed who spoke great English and shook hands with his peers. They drank tea, discussed amongst each other, and Mohammed asked about my travel plans which were to leave Egypt ASAP because there was clearly no end to this police attention. At the end of their discussion, Mohammed expressed their relief: "they think you look almost Egyptian" he said. After this was resolved, Hani and I headed to a hostel nearby. There was no one at reception and Hani got a call from Mohammed that a hotel was sorted. In the end, I handed over an $11 note for what otherwise must have been a $100 hotel. Hani took off and I was put in the hands of Daii, who would be my babysitter for the next two days... (A babysitter dressed in a full suit and armed with a tech-9.) He slept in the hotel lobby and we'd take turns buying each other meals. He at least had a sense of humor, like Hani and realized the ridiculousness of the situation. This came in handy especially when I went back to visit the pyramids. We were in tourist central, but luckily I had Daii to keep me safe! At least the camel handlers heckled me less as I was a VIP with a personal bodyguard. I took us off into the desert to the alignment point where you can see all the great pyramids in view. I felt a little bad that Daii was dusting up his nice leather shoes. He also had to stop to sit on a rock every few minutes to catch his breath. Sometimes he'd even light up another cigarette. "Mish Tammam" I'd say: not good. To which he'd smile and laugh. Well worth the trek though. There were few people around and away from the noisy and crowded city, you can appreciate the serenity of the desert, and observe the massive scale of these ancient pyramids still towering over the very modern, sprawling city. The next day I would take a bus from Cairo to the Taba border. Daii was instructed to follow me the entire way until I got stamped at immigration. We rode over the Suez Canal and through the surreal Sinai desert. The actual border crossing was an unceremonious end to my journey on the African continent. But I'd like to remember the highlight of Egypt as looking out at the pyramids. Old and new societies juxtaposed against one another, with my police friend Dai next to me. Out of breath, and smoking another cigarette.