I spent the whole day today hanging out with John Buldaou, one of the Lost Boys of Sudan. I have looked forward to being with him ever since I learned about his tragic experience where he walked thousands of miles from Southern Sudan to Ethiopia to flee the genocide in his country. When the child soldiers came to Ethiopia he walked thousands of more miles to Kenya. John spent 10 years in a refugee camp. These lost boys were "running" away from the civil war that had taken over southern Sudan. Later, when he noticed his name on a bulletin board, he then knew that he was going to move to New York, and that's where John is now. When I came to visit him in New York the first thing we did was eat breakfast. I was starved after my long flight from California. And guess what? We ate with our hands! To people in Sudan, utensils are not necessary. John told me that he and the other lost boys still wanted to keep their culture from Sudan, and not break away and forget where they came from, or the experiences that they have had that shaped their lives. They did not want to forget that they walked thousands of miles out of fear and toward safety. Once we had eaten breakfast we rode down the elevator from the top floor of our New York high rise. I asked John where we were going and he said, “We’re going on a real Big Apple adventure!” He didn’t tell me where we were going, but as we hit the streets we suddenly heard honking horns, and saw crowds of bustling people and bright yellow taxi cabs. We went together with some of the Lost Boys to the subway station. I knew from watching the movie that John loved the excitement of the subway. If I know John, I am guessing that he loved the fact that it is underground and went super fast. I asked him if he had ever gotten lost in the complicated maze of the New York subways? He said, "Even after three years of living here I still get lost!" I thought the subway ride was pretty fun too, because I’ve never been to New York before.
We got off at Central Park and found a beautiful park bench to talk the day away. With a dark expression in his eyes, John shared with me about life in Sudan. We talked about his long walks and how it felt to be the leader of other children when he was my age; age 12. I asked him if he ever cried when he lost his parents? I asked him if it was hard to be the leader of about 5-8 children when he was only a few years older? He replied by saying, “I cried every day for a long, long time.” I thought about that, and I thought that I would cry a lot because I wouldn't have known if my parents were alive or not. He told me that it was very hard thinking that his parents were gone. I was so moved by his stories that I 
was about to cry too, so I lightened up the subject and I asked him, "What should we do next?" He replied by saying in his deep, booming voice, "Let's check out the New York Modern Art Museum. Looking around we saw some of the most mind-blowing, creative, and inspiring paintings, drawings, and sculptures. These were the best created works of art that I had ever seen. It was awesome, and added the creative spark to our afternoon adventure. Now we were hungry! We dodged out of the museum and got some lunch. We stumbled upon some hot-dog place, and New York frankfurter was great! (and I don’t even like hot-dogs.), but I gobbled that dog like I hadn't eaten in a week.
The day had disappeared and I had less than hour to catch my departing plane at 3:30. John and I caught a taxi to the JFK airport. And suddenly, on impulse, he decided that relaxing on a Santa Barbara beach sounded pretty good. John slapped some money on the ticket counter, got a ticket, and he boarded the flight with me to Santa Barbara. Right there, at that moment John taught me the real meaning of Carpe Diem, cease every moment of your life! If there’s a chance for a new adventure, take it!
CARPE DIEM!
