Sylvia's Journal

The countdown to my next departure has started and with it the long list of things to be completed. This includes two sets of virtual facilitation responsibilities, one of which is shared with two other people and thus requires phonecalls, drafts and approvals. Another is teaching a class at Harvard’s School of Public Health which was cooked up when I met Marc in Dar es Salaam, two months ago. April the 24th seemed far away in the future then but now, with only two days to go, this proposal requires some serious attention.

It is Earth day today and I learned to my great dismay that I am a very bad person in the book of conservers. I lead a wasteful life (commuting by car and plane and being a private pilot for fun) that produces about 54 tons of carbon dioxide and very little to offset it. In my dreams last night I was rowing, using my own energy to propel myself, but it did not count for much in the Earth Day Carbon Footprint calculator.

I did try out my new Alden shell yesterday. I wore Axel’s olive green wellies so that I did not have to get my feet wet before stepping into the boat. Compared to the dory or the kayaks this new boat is fast: it takes me about 10 seconds to cross the cove at mid-tide. The real rowing will have to happen out on the bay. A flat sea is preferable over the usually choppy waters so I may need to wait until after this trip. In the meantime Axel insists on re-doing the woodwork (seat, oars, footrest) with real marine-grade varnish, brightwork, so that the boat looks presentable again. He is also making a case for waxing the fiberglass with something that keeps it from deteriorating in the sunlight. Of course all these chemicals will probably cancel out whatever ecological benefit this boat will bring to this household.

We ended Boston’s Marathon day with a dinner at Edith’s to celebrate the marathon victors. Edith has run the marathon some ten years ago and knows, deep in her cells, what such a last minute sprint means that brought Ethiopia’s fastest woman runner first to the finish line. I celebrated the Kenyan and Ehtiopian victories by sending congratulatory emails to my Ethiopian and Kenyan friends, one a namesake of the men’s race winner. I marvel at how one part of Africa can so dominate long distance running. But nothing beats the Japanese in the over 70 category. Imagine that, running after 70, after flying halfway around the world. It must be the noodle diet.