travel

All We Need is the Air That We Breathe…

/ Greta Matos / 4 Comments
DSC01118

I couldn’t help but laugh at the irony of this advertisement plastered to the walls of the MTR station in Hong Kong as I wore my own face mask preparing to battle the pollution lurking in the streets above.

I suddenly awoke from a fretful sleep, sitting upright quickly, trying to breathe deeply in between aggressive coughs.  I simply couldn’t catch my breath, with each inhale the irritation in my lungs grew and my coughing multiplied.  My mind raced to the PSA about Tuberculosis I had seen countless times on the television in Hong Kong and my heart skipped a beat.  What if I had caught it?  What if they had to quarantine me and I would be stuck in a hospital in Asia with some contagious disease? 

I thought back to the machines scanning people’s temperature each time we crossed the border from Hong Kong to China, feeling uneasy with the prospect of being pulled aside and carted off to be further isolated.  I ached to breathe deeply but such a task was impossible.  It was 3am, I laid back down and focused on drawing air in slowly.  I had another two weeks in China before I was scheduled to return to the USA, I would see how I felt in the morning and make the call from there.

As fate would have it, I would not see those additional two weeks in China; the following day I could hardly control my coughing fits as I dialed the office and told them I would be flying back that day.  We rebooked my flight, I packed up my little home away from home and stepped outside the Cosmopolitan hotel to catch a cab. 

1655990_10100282445828273_417609269_n

Almost immediately my hand flew to cover my mouth as another fit of coughing overwhelmed me. As I breathed in I felt as though I was sucking on the back of an exhaust pipe.  The air was hazy today, heavy with pollution, but similar to many I had experienced while living here, I simply assumed I had caught some sort of cold or something and needed to rest; or I had TB. 

1912233_10100282447010903_793349525_n

Upon arrival back in the States I went straight to my doctor and was told that I had an infection and should take antibiotics.  Three weeks later, the cough had not retreated, so I was again prescribed more antibiotics.  After six weeks, fearing my white blood cell count was taking an incredible hit, I stopped taking the antibiotics and called a lung specialist in Philadelphia.  While the violent coughing fits I had experienced in Hong Kong were more subdued, I was still struggling with a loose cough in my chest revisiting me every evening; something didn’t feel right.

After a series of tests, I was informed that I had developed chronic obstructive pulmonary disease as a result of the poor air quality and extensive pollution exposure.  From now on, whenever I was exposed to heavy pollution or smoke, my lungs would become highly sensitive and agitated.  There was no way to reverse the damage, but the doctor told me I could limit the discomfort and further damage by reducing my travels in heavily polluted areas and any direct exposure to smoke. 

I was prescribed an inhaler to use before I went outside in polluted areas and advised that I should wear masks from now on.  It was literally as though the pollution of China had entered my lungs and taken up residency…and there was no way to evict.

After confirming the diagnosis I continued to travel to Asia for work, pretty extensively. I wasn’t living there full time anymore so I could limit my exposure to some extent, and the inhaler and masks did help.  Interestingly enough my role in my career transitioned from one of manufacturing management, to consulting on the human rights conditions of the workers in those factories. I had grown a personal awareness of the intensity of toxic fumes each time I stepped on a factory floor.

1947422_10100282444595743_1010859594_n

When I began to wear my masks every visit, I was not looked at as an outsider, in fact I blended right in (well, as much as a blondish/burnet western white girl can blend in Asia).  Cruising the streets of Hong Kong and various cities throughout China, it’s not uncommon to see people wearing masks, actually it’s quite normal, which is strange when you consider it in a broader context.

282457_721077173583_7446770_n

It’s estimated that in 2010, outdoor air pollution of China contributed to more than 1.2 million premature deaths in the country. I developed my condition in 2007; since then the citizens of countless Chinese cities have had to endure days of smog that were so dangerous schools and businesses were closed and people were advised to stay in their homes.

As we continue to grow more aware of this critical issue, we dabble with the risky option of simply adapting to the self-inflicted degradation of our environment. I recently came across the latest fashionable “smog masks” that braced the runways at Fashion Week both in Paris and China. Seriously, check out the article in this link.

Personally, I found this concept to be a bit grotesque… as it seems like a failure of my species to push the dial in the right direction.  It felt to me like adaptation, like frogs sitting in a pot of water with the temperature set to boil, and no awareness of their impending doom.  The presence of the masks at the runway show was interestingly timed, apparently being inspired by the Chinese marathoners who had recently donned pollution masks due to air quality concerns while completing the Beijing Marathon in October.

Perhaps it was a political statement, but it was equally a statement of an up and coming commercial trend. Campaigns such as the one launched by Max Factor in which they sponsored a selfie photo contest for consumers to post selfies wearing pollution masks paired with their Sino Weibo makeup line lends itself only to distract rather than educate. We are walking a fine line here…

It’s a bit strange that when I think back on my time living in Hong Kong, I don’t think immediately of the pollution, I don’t recall the taste of the hot, thick air, or remember what a hard transition it was for me to get used to. Like everything in life, we adapt, we become numb (like those boiling frogs) to the harmful things around us when we are constantly bombarded with them. But when I read back on my journals documenting my life there, I find the signs were everywhere, I see the struggle that I bore to adapt, my methods of coping, and the path that inevitably led me to my condition:

April 2007: “Just up the road from my apartment is the entrance to a beautiful hike- about 3.5K to Pok Fu Lam, and another 7.5K to the Peak.  I love that it is so close- it is such an important escape for me.  I am slowly adapting to the pollution, but it is difficult.  When I am immersed in the mountains and can breathe deep, I realize how thirsty my lungs are for fresh air.  It is so beautiful, breathtaking views, the clean smell of trees and dirt, rich green tropical foliage- it is amazing.”

It is a startling thing, to suddenly feel the impact of pollution, and to be immediately and aggressively affected by it. I can literally feel my lungs resist the air when I am in a smoggy city, or standing near people smoking cigarettes.  This awareness has made me even more conscious of our impact on the environment, and how that directly impacts our own ability to continue living within it.

If you’ve been wandering with me for a while (particularly via Instagram), you probably realize how much I love wild places.  I adore trees. I feel my most alive when I am in nature, climbing trees or mountains, snowboarding down steep lines in fresh powder, sitting on a surfboard in the ocean watching a pod of dolphins surf the waves around me.  Being outside, in the elements, ignites an awareness of living that I have never been able to experience when I have hit the streets of any man-made place. It is almost indescribable. The woods were my sanctuary when I lived in Hong Kong, they were my escape, my place to find relief for my exhausted lungs, a place to retreat and drink deeply the air that had been given back to me, refreshed with the breath of the trees.  Having this condition has made me all the more aware of how essential wild places are when it comes to the quality of the air that we breathe in the long term.

IMG_6065

Thanks to all of them, I can breathe

I’m not a fan of wearing masks when I travel.  As you might have read in my previous post– I love to smile, and love the places that a simple smile has taken me.  Behind a mask, it is much more difficult to connect with new people in a new place.  You can’t help but feel incredibly separate from both the people and environment surrounding you.  You are much more self conscious (particularly in those countries where masks are not yet “the norm”) and feel isolated.

Recently I spent a week in Santiago, Chile.  The first few days I was okay, as it had recently rained, and I avoided wearing masks simply because I wanted to blend in and try to get a sense of the place from a more local perspective. But by the third day I had to find masks, fast. Ale and I spent a good part of the day running around the city from Pharmacia to Pharmacia trying to find N95 or N100 masks rather than the standard painters masks that all were offering.  At the end of the day we finally found a box of N95 and much to the shock of the shop keeper bought the whole box (instead of the single one they were used to selling). Here in Chile it is still not the norm, despite the poor air quality in many of the cities.

IMG_3579

For me though, it is too late for this to simply be a choice.  As I experienced during a recent trip to several European cities that had me coughing for weeks, my condition is only going to be heightened as time goes on, so masks must become a constant companion each time I visit a developed or developing place.

I know plenty of people who have spent years in these places and do not (noticeably) suffer from my condition.  I share this story, these thoughts, simply because I want us all to take pause and think about what we are doing to ourselves, to one another, to the generations that will follow us (the generations born from us).

When I lived in the smog, I adapted; at the time I was not motivated to push for change, to advocate for an alternative way of living. Those around me had accepted it as the “norm” and I simply learned to live with it. My perspective now, looking back, is quite different.  If I could do things differently in this case, man I would have. I would have done everything in my power to keep my precious lungs protected as I ventured off to build my career.  Had I only known.

Personally, I do not see the development of better, more functional and fashionable masks as progress, even though those things will benefit me as I continue to run around cities of the world.  I see progress when I see forests saved and placed into conservation; I see progress in restoring deforested areas, when I find living walls and alternative production methods being used that emit zero air emissions.  I see progress when I see effort to change what we know to be broken.

IMG_7458

I’m still finding my way, trying to understand my role in being a part of this change, leading an effort or supporting one that is far greater than myself.  But I know I am meant to take this course, I know this is a cause worth raising my voice for, I know there is so much opportunity for us to turn our creative minds toward solutions that stop the damage rather than simply covering it up with another trendy product.

For now, I’ve got a box of masks in my bag, no matter the destination airport. But when I escape to the wilderness, I am leaving those babies at home.

IMG_9098

If you would like to learn more about the air pollution issues in China and the health impacts of smog exposure, please watch the incredibly powerful and personal documentary recently released by Chai Jing entitled Under the Dome.

DSC_0356

This is not a fashion statement. This is me, running between meetings during my last work trip to Hong Kong/China. My masks are a constant travel must and have been for the past 8 years, as you can see the smog was pretty bad when I snapped this shot.

If You Don’t Love It, Don’t Buy It: The Shift to Consuming Consciously

/ Greta Matos / 2 Comments
DCIM102GOPRO

There is great opportunity when we realize the impact of our individual actions, and collectively choose to engage.

The audit report sat heavily on my desk, the weight of it bearing down on my heart.  The situation sounded like a recipe for disaster…the perfect storm for the next tragedy on the front page of the morning news.  Thoughts of the recent fires at Ali Enterprises filled my mind, the lives lost due to working conditions similar to those documented within the report I had just read.  Locked exits; barred windows; children as young as 12; no fire extinguishers or fire drills conducted; unsafe electrical wiring; the list went on and on.  I felt powerless, this factory was not my factory, it was not manufacturing any products that I was directly ordering.  I did not own the relationship with this factory management, nor did I have any opportunity to directly influence them.  My client, who was manufacturing product in this factory, would immediately halt production and move it elsewhere as a result of this audit report, the risk of a future factory fire or child labor scandal being too great to manage, the need to ensure their products were not being manufactured in this type of facility, the foundation of their company code of conduct blatantly disregarded.

I was taken back to my very first time stepping onto a factory floor in China.  I was 22, juggling the shock of all the sites, sounds and smells I had been experiencing since entering the manufacturing-driven factory cities where we would be sourcing our products.  As I walked down the production lines, young workers looked up at me, staring as they continued their monotonous task, watching me walk along the line inspecting their work.  I can only imagine the thoughts that ran through their minds, the looks on their faces entirely unreadable.  Later I sat in the sample room, watching my boss negotiate the cost of our tooling and per piece product price, down to the half cent.  We had three priorities in that room- timeline/production turnaround, material and product quality, and price.  Those were the priorities during that initial negotiation, that was all that would determine if we placed production in that facility.  The faces of those workers were not yet a part of the conversation.

My experience during that first visit is not necessarily the status quo of how every brand and retailer chooses to source product globally, however, it is the reality of the priority for most companies when they begin building relationships with factories.  The company I was working for was not a “bad” company with ill intentions, actually it was full of well-intentioned caring individuals who were raising families and simply doing business as usual. I have spent years working with companies to manage the challenges that are uncovered by audits, the poor working conditions or environmental practices, the lack of systems or understanding of requirements.  More than anything, this work has shown how critical that very first meeting with factory management is, that very fundamental establishment of priorities, establishing what matters most.  Had my client taken into account the zero tolerance issues that were a part of the audit in the very beginning of that factory relationship, production would never have begun. But, does that mean these people working there would have been safer as a result? No.

Getting back to this moment, sitting in my office in the city, the evening turning dark, contemplating what to do with this Pakistan factory report.  My struggle was not that my client had begun production in this factory in the first place; my struggle was that there would be no one left caring once my client left.  My client’s own ability to influence change would be limited even if they did choose to engage with this factory, as their production orders only made up 5% of the factory’s output, and would be limited to one production run anyway.  This report would be sent, production of this product would be stopped but the production of the other factory customers would continue; there would be no one asking any more questions, evaluating conditions and pushing the management to create a work environment that was safe and positive. I left the office in tears, frustrated with my lack of ability to keep those people safe, my lack of ability to directly motivate positive change.

From all of these years spent working in this industry, I have a pretty unique view into the complex and dynamic environments  in which most of the products we buy are made all around the world. I have inevitably adapted a cautiousness to consumerism, bearing this weight of my conscience in knowing the conditions in which a product may have been harvested or manufactured, depending on the country of production as well as the monitoring practices and messaging of the company.  So much exposure to so many problems, challenges, and complex social and environmental conditions can be discouraging, but it can also be a huge motivator for influencing change.  Knowledge of this reality presents a profound opportunity to rethink the broken model, to come at these challenges from a different angle, to motivate and inspire change that will enable consumers as well as business executives to be conscious of the impact of their buying decisions, but will also engage them as citizens, helping us all to realize that we are all connected to the products we choose to buy and the places we choose to go.

At this moment I write this blog from the top of a cliff overlooking the Pacific coast along a stretch of sand lining the middle of Chile.  The products that I carry with me as I travel and explore must serve multiple purposes in order to make the cut.  They must be durable, resilient, fixable and reusable.  Out of bare necessity I need these products to function in this way, if they don’t serve a purpose daily, I don’t really need them.  I adapted this perspective while thru-hiking the Appalachian Trail- where every single thing you carry literally weighs you down, and when you feel the physical weight of all the items you own, your priorities shift dramatically.  Efficiency and purpose are core.  The companies manufacturing the products you use must stand by them and be prepared to support in the repair in order for the product to last through your journey.  If you extend your vision of “this journey” to be your time spent on this Earth, now you have a standard to hold them accountable to.  Even now as I now backpack through the Andes of Chile I carry on my back my Gregory backpack that I bought six years ago and have carried literally thousands of miles, across multiple mountain ranges all around the world.  I intend to pass it on to my children.

We all want to buy things without the weight of negative realities that challenge our own ethical boundaries bearing down on us.  We all want to have access to products that can reassure us that this product did not make the lives of those who made it worse, it did not contribute to further damaging our Earth.  So, what can be done?  Most simply put, if you don’t love it, don’t buy it.

Consider the life of everything you purchase- question how, where and why it was made.  Consider how where and why you will use it- how often and for how long.

Consider where it will go when you are finished with it- will it go in a landfill?  Can it be recycled?  Better yet, can it be upcycled?  Could it be composted?  Has the company who created that product also created a path for it to follow once you are done using it?

How does the company who sells this product talk about its supply chain?  Do they have a Code of Conduct, and more importantly how do they explain it to their suppliers?  Don’t demand perfection, demand transparency.  Begin asking questions, challenge companies to provide answers, not public relations soundbites or flashy sustainability reports. Become conscious of your actions and acquisitions and believe me, everything will change.

I try to put forth every effort to consider whether or not I will really love a product once I have bought it- from that essential waterproof jacket to the kitchen chopping knife.  Believe it or not, I am by no means a minimalist, I understand and appreciate the comforts of “things” that I like to indulge in, and I believe that there are many products that bring people joy and do generally improve our lives. However, I hope to inspire others to join me in this path of conscious consumerism- to evaluate our purchases with a greater sense of purpose, and to truly consider the impact that every dollar spent on a product has on the past and future of humanity.  To demand more of the companies we buy from, but to remain conscious of the fact that they are wrestling with incredibly difficult and complex realities of a global supply chain and therefore perfection is not what must be demanded, progress and transparency is.  Because it is all connected, I have witnessed it intimately and whether we like it or not we all have a hand in the futures that our children will live, as well as the present day of others halfway around the world.

So with that I ask…what is the last thing you bought that you stopped and thought, “Man I am going to love having this”?  How much do you know about the manufacturing practices of the companies you buy from, have you ever wondered about their ethical philosophy?  Just to begin, check out this great little rundown created by the Story of Stuff Project to encourage conscious consumerism.  I encourage you to begin asking, to start the conversation and continue it, because we can make a difference one at a time, we can influence change directly in a positive way, we simply need to choose to do so. There is vast opportunity to join this revolution, to change the way that we interact with our environment and with one another, to reevaluate and align our priorities with what truly matters most to us.  I don’t know about you, but I am diving in headfirst.

 

Lean Forward and Just Let Go

/ Greta Matos / Leave a comment

“How are you feeling Greta, are you scared?”  I grin widely and shake my head no.  “What’s your social security number? Just kidding, I better see that smile when we get to the bottom.”  My skydiving instructor laughed lightly at his own joke, I felt a tickle in my chest and laughed as well as the small biplane banked slightly.  It was almost time to jump; I was ready.  I glanced across the plane where my brother sat, he too had a wide grin on his face.  I gave him a thumbs up as I was strapped onto my instructor for my first tandem skydive, here we go.

As I leaned out over the edge, I had no instinct to hold on any longer, no desire to pull myself back into the safety of the plane, I quite simply just leaned forward and let go.  As we were free falling my eyes raced to see as far as I could see, to witness as much of this Earth that I could fit into view as I fell back down to it.  I wanted to absorb every detail, to etch it into memory.  The wind pulled at my cheeks, broadening my smile even further.  With an abrupt tug, we were safely floating by parachute, enjoying the gorgeous day, reveling in the quietness that was so contrast with the roaring wind from a moment before.  I let out a giggle, overflowing with glee, that was simply too much fun.

I was 22 the first time I jumped out of a perfectly good plane.  It was probably the riskiest thing I had ever done at that point in my life.  Taking that leap of faith would come to be somewhat of a trend in other areas of my life, moments when I would realize the opportunity at hand, ultimately trusting that I was meant to land on my feet.  In every instance it has been worth the flutter of the heart as I leapt into the unknown.

Risk is a funny thing, it both inspires innovation and spurs imagination, while also confronting vulnerability and discomfort.  Risk pushes us to perform beyond the best of our ability, it takes us out of our comfort zones where real growth is tangible.  That risk I took jumping out of the plane had very real consequences, positive and negative consequences that ran parallel and a mix of luck, fate and preparation helped determine my experience of these consequences.

Over the years I’ve tried to make a habit of embracing risk with the same zest that I do when I jump out of planes; to maintain that thirst for experience, that desire to soak in every ounce of living from the moment I have left the ledge, stepped away from the safety zone, let go of the security and comforts of that which I am used to and acquainted with.

At this very moment, the sound of seagulls fills my ears.  The sun is warm, gently kissing my face as it slowly wakes up the rest of Valparaiso.  I sit from a balcony, overlooking the colorful city, homes of every shade of pastel you can imagine, ships sitting out in the harbor, the Pacific resting calmly to my left as I look out over the rolling hills.  It is quiet, the sounds of morning dominated by birds, with faint ship engines motoring off in the distance.  I have been exploring, and this place has filled me with imagination and wonder.  The cobblestone streets, the homes painted so many various hues of color delight at every turn.  Risk brought me to this little city by the sea built up into the the hills, whose charm is intoxicating alongside its grit.  A leap of faith brought me to this very moment that is filling me with so much joy and wonder. 

I believe that each and every one of us feels a tug to do something every once in a while that others may consider crazy.  Every single one of us has ideas that seem perhaps too risky, that we may be too easily talked out of.  Yet, there is greatness in taking bold action, there is so much growth awaiting us in the discomfort of the unknown.  To defy the fears of others, and perhaps the fears of yourself, by listening to the desires within and taking that leap of faith- this is truly living.  I recently walked away from a lot of very obvious opportunity for perhaps the less obvious ones.  Making that bold move, to write a chapter where I would be drawing on every ounce of strength I could muster, where I would again be searching every landscape to etch in memory the beauty it beheld, that has pushed me beyond what I believed capable, this is my latest leap of faith, and the journey has just begun.

A week ago I was rock climbing gorgeous granite deep in the Andes, discovering waterfalls and meeting the sunrise as it spilled through deep valleys.  Two days ago I was galloping horses up a mountain outside of the gorgeous organic vineyard where we’ve been learning about biodynamic viticulture. Today I am walking the streets of Valparaiso, ready to further discover this place, ready to soak in as much as I can with eyes of wonder.  Tomorrow, well, who knows where tomorrow will lead, but I will be sure to take a moment to acknowledge with gratitude the decision to take this leap, to embrace this risk, to lean forward and just let go.  Today, I let out a giggle of glee, this is simply too much fun. 

So, what is that thing that makes your heart skip a beat?  What is that leap of faith you have only imagined taking, but haven’t given it serious thought, yet?  Think about it, imagine it taking shape, and believe that you really are strong enough to lean forward and just let go.

The view from where I sit, writing this post. Valparaiso is a gem of beauty and grit, a lovely place to meander, to explore and to imagine.

Follow that Ever-So-Bold Heart

/ Greta Matos / Leave a comment
Following my heart across the Appalachian mountains- just at the start of my five month journey, loving the rugged wilderness of Maine.

Following my heart across the Appalachian mountains- just at the start of my five month journey, loving the rugged wilderness of Maine.

Often times when I speak about my travels, my work or the adventures I’ve had, people ask me how I got here, how I’ve made those things happen.  And it’s funny, because the first time I was asked that I didn’t even think about it, I simply responded that I “have a tendency to follow my heart.” In a kind of weird way, it’s actually that simple.

Throughout our lives, we are all faced with millions of decisions- many of which we don’t even acknowledge because our brains are too busy filtering out the unfamiliar so we can make sense of it all in the comfort of the familiar.  Our hearts don’t really work that way though.  Within the heart, we have the comfort of intuition, the quiet, sure, “knowing” self that never demands center stage but always comes through in times of need.

I suppose I was a pretty self-aware kid growing up.  At a very young age, I learned what it was to work hard for something I loved and I never questioned that work, no matter how challenging.  I knew that if I was pursuing my love I was following my heart, and that very basic principle became my guiding light at the ripe age of 7.  It has translated over the years through the course of the jobs I’ve taken, opportunities I’ve pursued as well as those I’ve walked away from.

Our hearts can be pretty bold forces in this world, when given the chance.  Mine has certainly led me down paths that my rational mind challenged with fear and doubt. The beauty of it is that when you commit to the heart, when you commit to that bold voice within you, you are overtaken with a strength that allows you to look ahead, to set intentions without expectations, and to boldly go where you’ve never gone before.

Today I sit in gratitude for the boldness of my heart, for her constant guiding confidence, for the places she’s taken me, and for this next adventure whose ledge I rest upon.  In several weeks, my husband and I move to Chile with our dog, and only whatever we can manage to carry comfortably.  What do we seek? We seek a beautiful story, we seek adventure, we seek the friends we have yet to meet and the places that will take our breath away.  We seek that which pulls our hearts to a place neither of us has ever been, yet one that will no doubt push us beyond what we feel we are capable of. And we embrace it.

This state of being reminds me of another time, when I sat quietly contemplating an adventure that took every ounce of boldness within my being- the decision to walk continuously for 2,176 miles, from Maine all the way to Georgia, with my then boyfriend of 8 months (now the very same husband embarking on this Chile adventure).  This journal entry nicely captured the essence of embracing that boldness:

2008, April: “Oh this life…these twists and turns and winding trails of this beautiful life.  I’ve been longing to write- aching for it;  and yet you’ve sat by as my life is jarring and spinning.  Being in the woods again and writing takes me back to China, the hours of walking, the solitude and comfort in discomfort.  And I meditate on the new discomfort I will soon carry and embrace- to walk for hours, days, weeks and months.  To carry all of my belongings on my back and cherish the simplicity of my daily choices. 

The primary anxiety is only in the here and now, wanting so badly to wrap everything up finally- sell the car, pay off the last of the credit cards, everything else sold, stored or forwarded; all that remains of Greta either in motion or in memory.

I crave a shift in perspective- the change this will bring to my pursuits and my lifestyle, the chapter of my life that will be as foreign as those that unfolded before it.  There is no doubt it’s what I should do, regardless of how I came about doing it.  I am so ready to again embrace the beautiful boldness I felt not so long ago as I walked along the other side of the world.”

What bold step have you taken by acknowledging your heart’s desire?

What adventure did you embrace with the strength drawn from knowing it was just what you were meant to do, and that was all the reason needed?