The Lester File

Train Trip!

2010-02-02T18:15:00.003-06:00

Jan 31, 2010
I arrived with the help of my parents at Union Station Dallas, Tx for a train bound for Chicago, IL. Leaving at 3:40pm. I had a coach ticket and at least 250 lbs. of my most precious possessions ready and waiting to board the train ahead of me. At my father's insistence, I gratefully (although, I would not know how grateful I was until later) allowed him to upgrade my coach seat to a sleeping berth.
The train arrived a few minutes later, then Mom, Dad, and I boarded the train together to check it out. The whole idea was quite strange and almost anachronistic considering the speed and efficiency that comes with air travel. We marveled at the tiny single room, were fascinated by the dining car, and stood struck by the lounge car that showcased windows from floor to ceiling. Chairs were set, staring out of the windows, inviting any passenger to enjoy whatever view happened to cross the tracks.
Dad started to think that the notion of traveling 22 hours in a train like this wasn't such a bad idea after all.
I started to feel the exciting sensation that adventure was approaching or at least that I had won the jackpot. That I had found the best, cheapest, most interesting way to travel long distances. I was going to see America! Awesome.
The train was threatening to leave, so my folks jumped off and we did the bon voyage thing on the platform. My attendant, Charlie, was very nice and assured my ever-loving, ever-anxious father that I would be alright.

5:45pm
I was all settled in my little berth, watching the view quickly go by. The scene began to change from city to town to vast expanse of woodlands and flatlands. But, the most interesting view of all of these was the one in the berth across from mine. A large (too large for a single plane seat) man who looked very much like Santa Clause on vacation was lounging in his seat facing diagonally towards me and had disrobed down to his britches. He caught my brief wide-eyed stare, but made no move to correct his awkward position nor to put clothes back on. So, I smiled to myself, quickly closed the blindes, and resumed my task of figuring out how to lay the seats flat so I could watch a movie that I had downloaded previously on my computer before dinner. The waiter, Lucion, came by to ask when I'd be coming to dinner. 8pm. I closed my eyes for a nap.

8:00pm
I woke up in time for dinner. Most people, passengers and crew alike, always reacted with a little surprise when they realized I was traveling alone. This reaction is probably due to the fact that I look much younger than my years (blessing and a curse), but it also created a kind of Russian Roulette when it came to dining partners. Whenever I came into the dining car, Lucion would seat me with whatever stranger had an open seat. I believe he got a kick out of this small social experiment, but always treated me with extra kindness and understanding.
My first round of this game landed me with a family of travelers from Long Island, NY. They had just been on a trip to visit George W. Bush's library in Austin, Texas. That was the extent and reason for their 3 day journey by train with a connection in Chicago from NY to Texas. In the hour or so that we sat together, I learned very little as they were not a very talkative bunch. I tried to crack a few jokes... to no avail. I finished my veggie burger (which raised some eyebrows from the immediate company) in record time and had a spoonful of ice cream before heading back to the solace of my tiny suite and attempted to get as much sleep as I could get. Thank you, Dad.

February 1, 2010
12:30am
Crash! I woke up to the eery, unwelcome sound of crunching and grinding that was obviously out of place and abnormal for our journey. The train came to a dead halt. I laid awake for a moment waiting for an announcement or for Charlie to come to my door and give me an update, but nothing happened. As far as I knew, we were still on the track and had not derailed, so I put my headphones on and watched a little more of my movie until I learned something new.
About an hour later, a faint voice came through the PA letting us know that there had been some kind of malfunction and the conductor was off the train trying to figure it out. Having lived in Chicago for a couple of years and riding the CTA, I was familiar with this kind of announcement and didn't bother to listen to them speculate about how long we would be standing still. I let myself drift into sleep again.

8:00am
I woke up, this time to a moving train, confident that we had been moving for quite sometime. The announcement came that breakfast was being served so I made ready to play Lucion's game again. As the train began to stir, the rumors began circulating that the train had been delayed 4 hours in the night. 4 HOURS.
With a groan, I started sending text messages to my friends in Chicago who were waiting for me to arrive. Bailey in particular had taken off work to meet me at the station at 2pm for an arrival that would probably not occur until late in the night. I was not in a particularly chipper mood, but I was hungry so I moved upstairs to the dining car.
Lucion saw me and sat me down with two ladies who were also travelling alone. As I sat down, one of the ladies, who had been talking non-stop since I entered the car, nodded towards me and continued telling her lengthy life story to the unfortunate, yet very patient and kind, to the other lady sitting in the booth. I ordered some coffee and oatmeal and started listening myself to the autobiography flowing from this woman's lips.
As I watched her, it became clear that the woman was either completely drunk or had not gotten a moment of sleep during the night. Her eyes closed, one and then the other, and then opened again as she talked. She was getting to the part about meeting her now husband on the internet when she almost fell asleep face first in her french toast. The other lady was long gone, but I was still finishing my food when she looked up seemingly confused that I was alone. She said, "I'm sorry, I don't know what I was saying. If I fall asleep in my french toast, laugh, because you're giggle might wake me up."
She then told me that she was a coach passenger and when the train stopped in the night she had slid off of her chair and onto the pathway in between the seats. The night was a series of slipping, falling, getting up, and then slipping again.
I suddenly realized that I could have been potentially peering at myself if my Dad hadn't graciously upgraded my ticket. Again. Thank you, thank you, Dad.

11:30 am
We were passing into St. Louis I decided to check out the lounge car and take in the view of a city I had never seen before. I was interested in seeing the great Arch and taking in what I could. I wrapped myself in my warmest shawl, grabbed a book and my iPhone, and headed up to the great windows. All of the seats were fixed in their outward staring position and getting past them to be able to sit down was a little tricky. A bit like stadium seating or a movie theater. I didn't want to climb over other people so I picked the chair I wanted and stepped over and onto the chair before sitting down. As I righted myself, the man next to me began to stare.
I looked up and he started, saying, "Where were you raised?? You don't put your foot in a chair!"
Me (laughing a little): "You know what, you're right."
Old man (still very serious): "You young people I guess...."
Me (starting to realize that he is serious, in my best Texas accent): "You are right. I do apologize."
Old man (angry now): "I can't believe you just did that."
I was no longer amused by the old man's ramblings and feeling I had done my duty and politely apologized, I resumed righting myself in my chair and pulled out my iPhone. The old man continued to stare at me, which I ignored, and I continued staring at St. Louis. I needed a drink of some sort because whatever had just happened was just straight out of a Chevy Chase movie.

12:45pm
Time for lunch and the last round of Roulette for the trip. Thankfully, the kind ladies at the Valley View Surgery Center had stocked me well with food and water so that I was never in danger of going hungry. I still went up to the dining car for the sake of taking part fully in the railroad experience. This time, I was seated with two gentlemen from Austin, Tx. One man had sort of squirrely features and gold rings adorning most of his fingers, but he seemed friendly, harmless, and married. The other man smiled a toothless smile, reeked a bit of body odor, and loved to laugh at his own jokes. This was going to be a treat.
I quickly learned (as he was eager to tell) that the toothless man was recently divorced, had three children, and taught computer science at the University of Texas. As a Doctor of Computer Science, he said, he was expected to act and dress a certain way, but he didn't play by those rules and went to class comfortable. Yikes. While the other man left to check on his wife, the toothless professor from UT Austin (whose name escapes me) asked me some pointed, not-so-veiled, personal questions about my marital situation which I politely answered. We began complaining about the delay during the night and mentioned something off hand about wanting a bloody mary and he said "that sounds good. I think i'll join you. Matter-of-fact, I'll buy you one. Deal?" He stuck out his hand and at risk of ruining dinner I shook his hand and agreed.
At that moment, squirrely married man came back and we talked about our iPhones and all the cool apps. I welcomed the change in conversation and patiently finished my food while toothless man attempted to keep my attention and move in closer to "see my phone."
In a final attempt to win my affection, he started accidentally showing off hundred dollar bills and paid for his dinner with one such bill. Upon arrival of his change, which was mostly in $1 bills, he made a joke about the usefulness of such bills at strip joints to which I replied that I was very tired all of a sudden and was going to head for a nap. Thankfully, toothless professor man was in coach.
THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU, DAD!

2:00pm
Original arrival time comes and goes. An announcement reverberates through the PA advising that we were about 5.5 hours behind schedule and that the crew was "sorry." Passengers were getting anxious, crew began snapping at anxious passengers, and there were no definite answers for or from anyone about our new ETA. I went back to sleep.

5:00pm
We are within walking distance from Chicago's Union Station, but we are halted again. Waiting for signal clearance. The conductor announces again his apologies and I fall back asleep. I finally order a bloody mary from Charlie and he brings me one along with a serving of delicious bread pudding. AWESOME.

6:30pm
We roll into Union Station and I feverishly text Bailey that I'm off the train and in the baggage claim. She comes around the corner and we begin readying ourselves for the hug to commence when, out of nowhere, a wandering woman blocks her path, asks her for money, and effectively ruins our moment of reunion! It's ok because we hugged it out anyway.

8:45pm
Bailey and I arrive with all of my bags at Aerin's house, we get inside, order a pizza and watch movies on the wall while unpacking. It was a good ending to a strange and unnecessarily long journey. But, i'd probably do it again. Just so I could tell about it later.

The Tree that Smelled of HooHah

2009-11-07T15:13:00.003-06:00

There was this tree where I went to college that I used to pass everyday on my way to class. It smelled unmistakably of a woman's hoohah and everyone knew it, even complained about it. It got worse during the early summer days and was not the most pleasant way to be made alert and ready for class. Some students actually thought it was some kind of conspiratorial plant; but, I think it was probably cheap and looked nice, so it became part of the campus landscape design accidentally. It was eventually torn down after I graduated so that other innocent students wouldn't be exposed to such foul feminine odor without their consent ever again.

As inappropriate as this post may be thus far, what's more inappropriate is what made me think of that tree and its interesting fragrance in the first place, after all of these years. I have been reading the famous bestselling memoir, A Long Way Gone: Memoirs of a Boy Soldier, about a man from Sierra Leone who survived his war torn childhood to come to New York and write about his past. It is a beautiful book so far, one that I would recommend to anyone wanting to know more about the violence in Africa from the perspective of a child compelled to give up his childhood. It is vividly dark (if that is possible), so that you can almost smell the blood he has drenched himself in (no, this is not where I started to think about strange odors) and yet his innocence is still present even many years later. Perhaps he fought to regain it, I haven't gotten that far yet.

As I read, my mind began to wander to my own past and how fortunate I had been.
The most uncomfortable I had felt in my 4 years of college (aside from obvious growing pains situations) was being forced to endure an unfortunate-smelling tree everyday. I was never forced to become part of a rebel and immature army of raiders and rapists like this boy had. Or to kill my classmates who didn't meet the ridiculous, superstitious expectations of the professor. I am awaking once again the way that tree used to wake me up as I passed it on my way to Spanish class; unexpectedly.

I smile when I remember the day when, sitting down for lunch, I waited until a lull occurred in the conversation around the caf' table. I suddenly posed a sheepish, yet direct question that had been weighing on my heart all year. I asked, "have you guys ever noticed how that tree near Singers smells like hoohah?"
After a moment, everyone screamed together, "OH MY GOD, you noticed that too?? I THOUGHT IT WAS ONLY ME! That tree totally smells like hoohah." It was a good day.

Jealous of My Church: Reflections on Guatemala

2009-10-31T07:16:00.002-05:00

I sat alone on the 70th Anniversary of the foundation of my church in Dallas, Tx. It was an event honoring the growth and positive direction my fellow congregates had begun to adopt. My work in Guatemala is only one example of the vast amount of humanitarian aid my church is willing to send out into the worlds of great need. I went to support my Dad who was standing up in support of his fledgling ministry made up of the Latin community beginning to emerge and increase within the church membership. He is a pioneer and a sometimes unpopular reminder that things change. I am still in awe of his timeless innocence and his unassuming character that makes him almost universally approachable, likable, trustworthy. What better time to celebrate that sentiment than at a service meant to showcase the convergence of present, past and future, revisit founding principles, and apply those teachings to the present moment. I was so proud of my Dad sitting at his keyboard boldly performing the salsa praise music that was rarely heard in the large congregation hall, but that his small gymnasium following had come to call Sunday best. My heart swelled further as Pastor Miller, who I had met for the first time in Guatemala, reported on the ways in which my church was touching the lives of people in the farthest reaches of the globe: Ethiopia, India, Bangladesh, Guatemala, Peru, China. I knew of these endeavors, but as I listened their stories and his hopes for our continued patronage, a few strange feelings came over me.

Jealousy.
I was jealous of my church. I wanted to be my church and do the work it was doing. I wondered how I had missed the boat. These were all locations (aside from Ethiopia) of which I had intimate knowledge. Where was my memo about all of this awesomeness? How do I get to be involved? Wasn't I already involved? I felt like I'd been passed over for a perfect position in favor of an institution. This was of course enormously irrational, but I am a 26 year old woman living at home once again. My tether is wearing thin.

Sadness
I feel my life is meant to be spent in service, but my own church seems to swat at my attempts to give my time. Giving it away has been my usual practice, even now. I expect greatness from myself, but I cannot be sure that greatness expects anything from me.

Guatemalan Independence Day

2009-09-15T21:16:00.002-05:00

Today was a big day. Guatemala's Independence Day. 182 years of independence from Spain!
Unfortunately, it was not Celeste's day to enjoy.
Celeste (my ward) and I were told to get up early because Andrea would be coming for us at 9am to go to the parades downtown near the government palace. We got up, showered, got ready... and waited. and waited. Finally, we get a call from Andrea at 9:15 that she's left her house and is on here way. Ok, so psyched! Let's do this. Celeste really wanted to see her old high school march on the city streets because she herself used to be a flag girl. We were really excited and really ready... we were still waiting at about 9:45am and Celeste's began getting restless. Guate time is a lot like Tico time!
We get another call right at about 10am from Andrea telling us to meet her at Mira Flores (the nearest shopping mall).
That required a multiple change, unexpectedly lengthy bus ride. First, we trekked to Paiz and waited for the right micro bus to come a long. By micro, I mean the size of a tourist van. The first one came, they told us there weren't any buses coming to take us to the center of the city so we might as well get in theirs. Celeste wasn't buying it and told them to move a long. The REAL bus came and it was a van about the size I was in during my internship days. Enough room for 10, this one was crammed with about 15 including the driver's entire family in the front seats. It was also the s l o w w e s t friggin' ride ever. It took us about 20 minutes to get to the next leg.
After stumbling out of the tiny van, we waited for another bus to arrive. Celeste was restless indeed. So, when the bus we needed passed us, she grabbed my hand and we raced to try and wave it down. It stopped and we jumped on. This was a true "bus" the likes of which I used to ride with my Mississippi girls in Wuhan. Old, rusty, few seats, and tons of people, yet fast as all get out. So, we were on the move. 15 minutes later we arrived where we were told to meet up and no one was there. Or at least we didn't see anybody, so we crossed the scary, barely standing sky bridge to wait by the pay phones on the other side. Neither of our phones seemed to be working or she would have called or picked up her line , right???!
So, we waited and it was hot and we were losing our fervor. We walked up to Mira Flores (the nearest shopping mall to beat the heat and see if she was waiting inside. We did more waiting. Celeste was sad because her high school band had probably already passed. We went up and down, waiting and waiting. It was not close to 11am and we were no closer to getting anywhere near downtown when we get the call. She could see us from across the street AND she'd been waiting in a car for a long time! The car had left and we had to catch ANOTHER bus to get down.
We jumped on to a loaded bus headed down to the parades. I'm glad there weren't any church groups running torches in the streets as is the custom to the detriment of traffic laws everywhere. We got as close as we could and started walking towards the sound of drums and xylophones. It was hot, I brought my umbrella so we had plenty of shade. Celeste was like a kid at her first parade. She wanted to be higher, closer, and she wanted to see every band that passed; however, we were pretty late. They started at about 7:45am and went until lunchtime for a break at about 12:30. We missed her school, but we still saw some great things. We even turned on the tv during our wait to see some of the big bands with huge costumes and dancers. Up close, we saw military bands marching in half time. We saw one group that was so disciplined, they weren't allowed to move at all, not even to take a drink. So, there were people to come by with bottles of water and pepsi to hold up to each boys' lips so they might not die of thirst in their full military-esque uniforms. We stayed until the very last bad went by and people began flooding the streets to find lunch. We waited for a bit and then started looking ourselves.
After a few failed attempts at finding a place that was not full of people, we realized that everywhere was full of the same people we were just brushing shoulders with in the street. We finally came to a 3rd choice restaurant, full of people still, but we decided to take a pizza to go. To go, means wait another 45 minutes in a place that has absolutely no extra seating. It was a shopping center full of internet cafes, a billiards bar, a movie theater, and a karaoke/food court. Celeste tried to wait for an open table inside the actual restaurant (Macarone), when she found one, another woman came up behind her and told her she'd been waiting longer than her. Celeste kindly explained that she was mistaken and the lady, in turn, called her a "liar." Celeste responded that she was indeed NOT a liar and walked away pretty annoyed.
Next, she tried to sit down on a stair step nearby since we'd been standing for hours. As soon as she did, a security guard told her to get up and move a long. She came over to me, defeated, and we took a stroll around the floor. On the way back, we passed the same stair where now there were kids hanging out all over it and the same security guard (to our astonishment) did nothing.
It was not her day.
Since there were no places to sit, we grabbed our pizza boxes and our pepsi and we went to the park to eat our lunch on a shady curbside. On the way, Celeste and Andrea picked out some cute, 10¢ earings from a street vendor and promptly lost them somehow. We retraced our steps, but they were so gone and she was so sad.
It was not her day.
She realized she'd misplaced about 200 quetzales (about $25).
Not her day.

We left the parade grounds and headed to Andrea's house where here sister was cuddling on her couch with her boyfriend in total darkness watching Rocky IV. Random??

It was a good day. Even though Celeste had a few (trillion) mishaps, she enjoyed herself and I had fun getting out of the house. It is now time to sleep. Goodnight!

Day 8 - Huehuetenango

2009-07-19T22:43:00.003-05:00

Pronounced "Way Way - tenango"

The orphanage here is very different from Manchen. It is larger with a huge area for play and recreation. There are two separate jungle gyms and a bunch of swings plus a basketball court. The kids range anywhere from 5 years to 18 years old, girls and boys. Today, Maria was the first little girl I met. She is 5 years old and I don´t think there is a cuter girl on this planet. Soon, when I have internet again on my computer. Erin and I spent about 45 minutes today taking video of Maria and her friends singing various songs that they found hilarious. It is a real treat and I´ll post it straight away.

The group we are helping out this week is a little smaller, but way more organized. This orphanage, also unlike Manchen, is fully privately funded and the man leading this group has spent most of his vast fortune building this wonderful place. >Huehuetenango is nestled in a beautiful valley with a population of about 100,000. Some of the girls from Manchen that I knew in March have moved to Huehuetenango and I was surprised and thrilled to see their faces today. Across the street from the orphanage is a fairground and the rides were up and running at around 10am. The owner allowed us and all of the children to ride for free this morning before regular fairgoers swarmed the rides and every child got to have a turn. I was pulled by my Manchen Rojito, Sandy, to the big ferris wheel that went way to fast for its size and age. I saw my life flash before my eyes, but the view wasn´t too bad.

Tomorrow, we go back and to some groundskeeping as well as an afternoon of playtime. I´ll post pictures as soon as I can.

Day 7 - Continued...

2009-07-18T08:09:00.004-05:00

Yesterday, we were not scheduled to go to Manchen because everybody was still being sequestered after the massive escape/vengeance attempt 4 days ago. But, we went there anyway to stand outside and pray for them and their safety. As I went to the door, I could see the faces of the girls I'd come to love pleading back at me from behind the bars of the inner gate. Some were crying, some seemed stoically resigned to the disappointement of being deprived. I knew I shouldn't let them see me, but they knew I was there and they were calling my name. Luz wanted to tell me goodbye. Greisy wanted to give me a note she'd written for my brother, Mike. Maria Jose had written a folder full of letters to give to the friends she had made from our group of gringos, especially the boys she'd met. They were allowed to come into the antechamber one at a time to hand me letters, kiss my face, and tell me they loved me. I was able to touch their faces as well, tell them that I was always thinking of them and loved them more than they could imagine and that I would return in the weeks to come. At that, the huge wooden door was closed and I joined my companions as we held hands and silently prayed for the girls left inside to deal with (and be subject to) the aftermath of a failed prison break.
The truth is that Luz, Greisy, Maria Jose, and all their sisters inside Manchen have better chances at a better life if they stay inside the high walls of the orphanage, take English classes, and become educated. Many of them have families that they want to return to, but either their families cannot care for them or they simply do not want them. But, how do you tell that to a 15 year old girl, whose only thoughts are of a home where they can be free and loved by the people they love, that such a place does not exist? That they have to make it for themselves? And that I will help them if only they'd let me? Too many times I have witnessed the reality of those longings for the outside world when visiting day comes and the girls have been promised a visit from family. They wait and they pray and they wait for people that will never come and when the clock chimes for the last time, they crumble into themselves, inconsolable, to a place where I cannot go until they permit me inside. So, I am here. We are here. Because each of us has a relationship with one or more of the 110 girls living at Manchen, and now it is up to us to continue that relationship and be there.
As I was meditating on my girls and silently willing the walls to disappear, I could hear the locks on the heavy door being undone and suddenly the door opened again. We were being allowed inside. All of us. I almost burst into tears right then and there. It had been 4 days since we were last permitted to go inside. I did not know how much damage had been done or if any of the girls had been hurt or involved. I was a desperate woman. I flung the letters I was clutching in my hands at the people they were destined for, tucked the one for my brother into my pocket, looked to my leader for the final go-ahead, and then launched myself through the door and into the antechamber. The barred gate had not been opened yet, but that did not stop me from shoving my arms through the openings and holding Luz's face in my hands as she was always waiting there for us. As the gate was opened, we finally embraced as a few other girls gathered around for a big group hug. I turned and saw Greisy, with eyes red and swollen from her sobs. A few minutes before, I'd taken a letter from her to my brother and barely had a chance to promise he'd receive it before the door had been slammed between us. The cruelty of that moment was in its brevity and now she looked at me with eyes that told me she barely believed I was there, that I wanted to be there. I held her close as she heaved into my chest with tears still running rivers down her perfect face and we rocked together for another moment. Finally, she cracked a smile we began laughing together at the insanity of the situation. She said, "Te amo," and I answered "Te amo tambien, mi vida." I promised her that my brother Mike would get her letter and we unlocked ourselves with the knowledge that we had been one in our torment of separation. We had connected and now live in each other's hearts and minds forever. We parted and I turned again to see Maria Jose. She had made me a gift. Something she'd begun, but did not finish due to the lock down. It was a little piece of construction paper with a tiny hand-made fuzzball in the corner. She'd used some of the colored sand we'd brought the previous time we'd been able to visit to create a decorative border. I believe, had she had the time, a note would have been written inside the border, but as it was it was perfect. I hugged her and told her I loved her, too.

All of this happened in the space of 20 minutes. I did not get to speak to everyone and many faces were missing from the sea that engulfed us in front of the antechamber. I was shocked when Luz told me that 23 girls were involved in the escape attempt. Only 4 or 5 were friends with the girl who was sent away. All 23 had been placed on highest level restriction and place behind the bars of high security. We could see them leaning from inside their cell against the bars that were punishing them as they watched us gather with the other girls who were not involved in the incident. They had broken windows, light fixtures, and tore up the tiny chapel area inside the antechamber, which indicates that they came very close achieving their foolish goal of escape. They must have been planning this for some time and they definitely made their point, but at the expense of everyone else. All 110 girls have been stripped of computer and television privileges for one month and no one can attend extra-curricular activities such as painting class in that time as well. I remember being glad to see that the girls could enjoy some television in their downtime so that the walls around them might seem less persistent, but now that is over. I understand the necessity for strict enforcement and I do not pretend to know what it must be like to run a state orphanage in Guatemala. But, I am glad that we were allowed a few seconds to share their discomfort and wipe away their tears before leaving for Huehuetenango. After our 20 minutes were over, we said our final goodbyes and pried away the small hands that clutched as us to stay. We walked away solemly, exhausted and sick with sadness. We were told that another visit may be possible in a few weeks, but as I have already written... things change.

Pray for these girls and the continuance of hope that rests deep in their hearts, that it remain a source of strength for them and pray that they never forget how much I love them and that the Lord loves them so much more.

Day 7 - Climb Volcano, Check.

2009-07-16T22:22:00.005-05:00

Wow, there is a lot to relate since I wrote last. We have made plans, had them changed, made them again. Those plans included hanging out at the Manchen orphanage with the girls, climbing a volcano in the hopes of seeing some real live lava flow, and playing with the local villagers of Alotenango. Some of these plans were successfully completed, while others encountered major setbacks.

The girls of Manchen are the main purpose of our week long stint here in Antigua. But circumstances have arisen that have made our travel to the tiny, overpopulated, prison-of-sorts, impossible. The first day we arrived to play, hang out, and talk with these special girls, a very dramatic scene began to play out. (Though many of us gringos didn't seem to notice) That day, one girl was suddenly transferred to a different orphanage 4 hours away. She was a gangbanger before being brought to Manchen (probably scooped up by the police) and a rival gang became aware of her permanent whereabouts and made it known that there was a hit out on her. This particular girl was also a lesbian and had a girlfriend at the orphanage and ran with a few other girls who idolized her and her way of life. Unfortuantely, that life includes violence and revenge as well as empowerement. Her leaving brought tears and cries for justice from those she left behind. Those tears turned to rage and two days later, those same girls vandalized the courtyard, breaking glass and attempting to escape. Perhaps they were trying to be sent away as well, so they could all be together again. At any rate, while the orphanage is being put back together and the girls are placed on serious lock-down, we are not permited to visit. Hopefully, we will visit tomorrow, but there's no guarantee.

Day 2 - Wow... whole lot a nuthin'

2009-07-11T22:02:00.011-05:00

Today, we were at the mercy of car and van availability, which was nill. Buckner is pretty on edge about security, so we are generally discouraged (mandated) to remain in groups and to travel only when corporate sponsered transportation is available... lame. SO, what happens when 20 kids are coming into town to do missionary work and they all need transportation for themselves and their bags? We get left in the lurch, unfortunately.
We were supposed to hang out with the new kids and help them get aquainted with what they are coming here to do. They are only here for a week whereas we are here for a month. Instead, every car and van was dispatched to the airport in numerous caravans to take care of the demand and we cooled our heels and prepared for the following day. We're on our way to Antigua!

So, while I'm waiting I might as well take you on a tour of our little bungalow here in Guatemala City. We aren't staying at the orphanage, but at the Guatemalan branch office of Buckner. The network here is really a series of small houses, owned by Buckner, that serve the needs of children in their various stages of life. Homes for the youngest and Transition homes for the teenagers. The Buckner home office is the hub for all of these smaller orphanage-like places in Guatemala City and the rest of Guatemala. Other areas like Antigua, Huehuetenango, and Zacapa have larger, state-run orphanages that Buckner gives aid to in various ways on a regular basis: including helping the children find permanent homes. Since the U.S. banned Guatemala from sending orphans across the border in 2007 because of Guatemala's inability to quell the thriving baby black market, the job is infinitely more daunting. Hence, the transition homes.

So, we've come to live in this place and help with the endeavor. The first picture is the living room/reception area and its virtually ours at this point, so we decided to begin sorting all the baby clothes, toiletries, games, and other materials that we brought for various people and places. We each brought an extra bag filled to the brim with as much donated stuff as we could possibly fit into them without going over the weight limit for the airline... we almost did it, but there were a couple of bags that didn't quite make it. Makes a couple $50 pairs of underwear.

This next picture is my room as well as Laura, Sarah, Julianne, and Erin's. Now, this is hardly roughing it. We are very cozy. Laura sleeps on the floor. Bad luck, Laura! Perhaps soon I will include picture of actual people rather than just inanimate objects...

This is a picture of the actual office area. This area is about 3 steps down from the living room, bedroom portion of the compound. So, it feels sort of like a cave with a tranquil lagoon-like workspace. There are offices on each side and it all very neat and orderly. I really like it. We only saw the office workers once and they're all gone now because its the weekend. Only Don Pedro remains and he likes to chat with us about his family, football, and baseball. He thinks we're nuts.

That leaves the portion of our little cottage that I have the most love for... the kitchen. Have you ever seen David the Gnome because that is immediately what I thought of when I saw this adorable place. I love it. I love the countertops that seat people on both sides. I love the arched doorway and serving window. I love that I have to light matches to light the stove. I spend a lot of time in this special place preparing dinner for my companions, which I also (not-so-secretly) love.

Basically, I'm having a super fun time and we've just now gotten word that we will be DOING something. It's 5pm. We're just now starting our day and we're going to hang out with the BABIES!!! UYAY!

Tomorrow, Antigua and a lot less down time.

PEACE

Day 1 - Travel and Dinner

2009-07-10T20:15:00.003-05:00

As part of our internship experience, we are expected to cook for ourselves (with food purchased by Buckner) at breakfast, lunch, and dinner for the first week while we're in Guatemala city. So, tonight Laura and I cooked dinner. I made guacamole (from scratch!) and cooked some chicken on the wok for 9 people. We made them into little tacos and Laura made the fruit salad. It was super fun!

I got to see BERTA! She said that there might be some opportunities for me immediately to stay in Guatemala. The spread here isn't bad and the people are amazing. I'm stoked.

Right now, we're going to sort our luggage that we brought for humanitarian aid and then get some sleep b/c I did not sleep at all last night at the Radisson airport.

OH and I have a Guatemala cell phone. Once I find out what the number is, I'll post it.

Visuals are Key

2009-07-09T20:19:00.002-05:00

Once again, I'm taking my chances on a wayward adventure cycle; however, this time I'm journeying to a place I just recently returned from. Guatemala.

Today was orientation here in Dallas and all the teams going to various corners of the world (China, Kenya, Romania, Latvia, Russia, and Peru) came together to pack bags with humanitarian aid and learn about the rules: no drinking, no skimpy clothes, no fraternizing with each other... I'm screwed.

About 3 hours after my mom dropped me off, we'd finished orientation and the next step was to go to the Buckner International warehouse and sort some shoes that had been donated from various charities and food drives across the country. They all get brought to this massive compound where then then have to be sorted by volunteers like myself and 24 others (1 guy). The dude that was charged with giving us the run down of the operation was into making annoying, almost chauvinist observations. Like he was telling us what we had to do and he looks around for the one guy in the room and says "Where's my men? There you are! No, you cannot drive the fork lift." I looked at him trying to see if he was joking, but he really did assume that a boy would be the only one capable/interested in the machine. Then he continued giving him tasks meant for "men" like operating the hand held fork lift and assigned us to the (I guess more feminine) task of sorting at 8 refrigerator sized boxes of children's shoes. All shapes, sizes, colors, and fabrics. That was a bit irksome since 24 of us were getting in each other's way crammed in between these boxes while the lone ranger waited for us to fill up boxes so that he could cart them away in between doings of nothing. To be fair, his singularization which wasn't his fault, but it was dude's fault for not delegating outside gendered notions of ability. I asked if I could help out the guy on the little fork lift, but he stammered and stuttered until I just went on with my life.

ANYWASTE...

The shoes were sorted in record time and my deoderant was put to the test in the 100 degree Texas heat and humidity. For some reason we were sorting innumerable shoes in a tiny space in the ONLY room with absolutely no A/C and a fan blowing towards us desperately from 200 feet away... so odd. Hundreds of Crocs, a few Ug boots, and a million flip flops later we were ready to go back to the main office and get some dinner.

The other people in my 10 person crew are pretty cool. Again, there's only 1 dude, but he seems to be able to handle himself. Quiet. Respectful. Probably around 21. No risk. Some have been on many mission trips before and almost all have some education in childhood education or speech pathology. Speech pathology is a pretty rampant degree amongst the people here, including my leader Erin. Erin is cool. She gets me and thinks I'm funny, which are essential qualities I search for in a friend. Perhaps its because she is a teacher to special needs kids, but she knows well how to control a room. Not with any stern-ness or an aggressive attitude; on the contrary, she's just a nice gal who knows what she wants and how to get it simply.

So, tomorrow I will be embarking upon the long series of connecting flights to Guatemala City and from there I will visit a few of the cities listed on the map above, including: Heuheutenango, Zacapa, Guatemala City, and Antigua which is not shown but is only 30 minutes SW of Guatemala City. So follow me and I'll try to write as much as possible with many pictures!

In the Throes of a Prolongued Panic Attack

2009-06-08T12:28:00.004-05:00

Crushed Under the Weight of my Own Fear and Foolishness

The fear is debilitating, the worry is paralyzing. My mind creates a scenario from which there seems to be no escape and my body reacts with violent waves of heat that dig into my bones for days and days. My back flares and my body goes into a fever and my mind becomes a prison until I find the strength to bring myself back to reality.

All of this occurs before I even begin the difficult task laid out before me. These kinds of reactions, and the almost unbearable pain the comes with them, are usually in place for everyone, but only when the very life within us is being threatened with annihilation. For me, these reactions seem to come at the most inopportune moments when simply my own sense of self worth is being threatened... or when I'm writing. It is a fear that is so real and yet so very unreal, one that grips and squeezes at my heart with crushing persistence. A terror that I cannot run from, nor hide from, but I can choose to fight it.

The fight usually results in another bout of physical pain accompanied by a host of cruel thoughts and self-deprecating ideas, even very occasionally thoughts of doing great harm to myself. To punish myself for letting the fear take hold and for foolishly ignoring the signs of its coming. It is a cycle that for all of my human intelligence, I cannot seem to avoid.

I dread it. I hide from it. I want to face it, but I remember how much it hurts. Time is never on my side or it may have been at one point, but I never fail to squander it in the midst of my foolishness. Hope flies from my ears and bleak resolve festers in my heart and mind like a blurring fog. I crawl into myself and shut down my mind so that the pain will stop, but I cannot make it disappear completely. Food loses its taste and my desire for it wanes considerably. I begin to hate myself and everything I live for and wonder why I put myself through it and why I continue to allow it to happen. I compare my life to others' lives and find myself praying for atrocities that will excuse my inability to act on my own behalf. Its shocking and delusional, defeatist and inexcusable.

I'm writing about this because I haven't been able to write at all lately. I've been caught in a prolonged battle with the feelings I've described above, which are currently fresh and alive in my heart and head. I'm writing because I want this extreme anxiety to be something I can write off, so I can move on with my dreams for the future. Even now it threatens to take hold and suck away all of my hope. My hands are shaking and my face is hot when I think about the task ahead and the uncertainty I face.

It is only when I focus on individual sentences, individual words and phrases from authors I've come to respect and whose words I want to use, that I find some sense of peace. Writing suddenly seems less impossible in the imagining of a single phrase, but trying to envision an entire project is frightening to the point of paralysis.

I'm not afraid of most things. I am not afraid to travel, to leave behind familiar places and things, to re-establish myself in new and interesting places. Yet, I am scared to death of disappointing the people that I love and/or respect, of becoming a shell of a person unworthy of love or compassion. Scared. to. death.

I don't mean to project any of my feelings upon anyone else, I'm trying this as a kind of therapy in the hopes that making my feelings tangible will make it possible for them to be made smaller and less overwhelming.

Guatemala: Volcanic eruptions are commonplace

2009-03-18T22:37:00.009-05:00

I have embarked upon a new adventure this Spring Break to a country I have never been to, but one I have read much about. At this very moment I am sitting under the stars on the roof of my hotel in Antigua, Guatemala. Nestled in a small valley, surrounded by active volcanoes, this city was the first official Spanish headquarters/capital during the Colonial Period. Many of the buildings from that time peroid fell prey to the minor eruptions and earthquakes that pervade this volatile landscape, but a few facades remain intact and act as antique frames against the natural backround that envelopes the city. Rugged mountains and unpredictable tectonic activity acted as natural fortifications for the Spanish conquerors and viceroys that governed Central America 500 years ago. Today the people of Antigua have done their best to stay true to the early European architecture and asthetic and because of that many tourists flock here every year to experience Guatemala "lite."
Indeed, for my part, this particular trip has been pretty posh. We have a driver, we get free meals, and we get to see this beautiful place for a whole week. In exchange are goal is to give our time, our love, and our support to some 300 children and families that really need as much as possible of all three. Everyday for the past six days, me and a group of humanitarians armed with donated clothes, soap, and crayons (among other things), have continued the efforts of those before us by travelling into the mountains and playing with the children we find there. We have visted with Guatemalan doctors that donate their expertise everyday to the sick and penniless people of this province. People come from all corners of the mountainsides (when they are able) to seek help and comfort from Dr. Sergio and even my father when he comes around every six months or so.The village depicted in these pictures is called Altotenango. Here live hundreds of families, crunched together in tiny shacks that cascade across the very steep hillside. I definitely needed to actually train myself before attempting to climb even a few hundred yards up the dusty road whereas the locals were hauling everything from freshly pressed textiles to brush leaves upon their backs up and down without breaking a sweat. We came to the village where the children waited for us anxiously. They knew we were coming to sing and play games with them... also we had candy. Every morning they were waiting for us and I made so many precious friends that I find difficult to think of leaving even though tomorrow is technically our last day of work.
But, Altotenango was not the only place we were expected to be here in Antigua. That story will have to wait until tomorrow. .. That

2008-12-26T22:58:00.005-06:00

For My Awesome Cousin, Stephen
This past year has been a big one for many reasons. For instance, this time last year I was studying for my final papers and exams from my first semester in grad school. Thankfully, that is over even though it happened in a bit of a blur.

Then in July, the University of Chicago sent me to Costa Rica to conduct ethnographic research for my thesis project entitled "Home Bodies: Space, Place, and Race in one Costa Rican Household." I took about a bazillion pictures, spent hours interviewing, and basically had the time of my life on the school's dollar. All in all a good experience.

Upon returning from Costa Rica, I realized that my money was running out. The grant money from Uchicago wasn't going to last much longer and I needed to stay in Chicago to finish my thesis and be close to my advisor. So, I set out to get my job back at Chicago's Old Town School of Folk Music and then began searching for more viable employment. After a bunch of mishaps and aimless desperation, I ended up interviewing for a job under a man named Donald Coxe.

Don turned out to be a wonderful, kind-hearted, genius who happens to be a very popular and influential global financial strategist... in Canada. The work has little to do with my ambitions for the future, but he is a very nice man, willing to pay me much more than I've ever been paid before to do a job I'm pretty overqualified for (printing, faxing, mail-running). I've been working for him since mid October. So now, I work 3 days a week at the Old Town School and 2 days a week with Don Coxe. I'm hoping that Don will hire me full time soon, but who knows!!

And that's where I'm at now as we speak. Two jobs, a thesis, and rent. Oh yes and I have some pretty cool friends that keep me from going completely insane from all the turmoil and uncertainty, but that's life!!

I'll show this to you tomorrow at Grandma and Gradpa's.

2007-11-25T19:52:00.000-06:00

What is it that I am thinking? What is it?
Is it that I need to work harder?
Is it that I need to be stronger?
Is it even about me?
Streamlining such thoughts is difficult when you purposefully divert yourself. Being at home puts a voice to the vexing concerns that follow you into quarter-life with questions like, "so... what's next?," "And what will this help you accomplish then?"
So far, I've learned that the best answers to these questions are quick creative quirky exaggerations of the truth that sound something like, "its all under control and there's no need to worry." Throw in some words like "consulting work," "market research opportunities," and "non-profit companies" and you have a best selling life on your hands.

2007-11-07T01:49:00.000-06:00

Oh, the turning point. That trite realization that the choice you've been avoiding for weeks has finally eaten its way to your consciousness and now threatens to obliterate your reality in its obesity. Today, I had that kind of experience.
Graduate school is a terrifying endeavor that goes by so quickly; yet, the memories of those months of pure hell are enough to haunt your dreams for the rest of your life. But, until today, I'm fairly certain my concept of being a grad student can be summed up as straight up denial. It took 2 Bs, a language requirement, and some botched half-hearted romantic episodes to make that reality sink in so that I could wake up to the real nightmare.
I spent some time mourning the loss of pre-graduate school euphoria of living in an exciting new city with new friends and new digs, but as the city turns cold, I find I must as well...

Weekend in Chitown

2007-08-05T12:06:00.000-05:00

Chicago is better than I could have imagined it. Its always been a dream of mine to live in this place. There's been an ever-present draw since I was a girl in love with the magic movies of the 30s and 40s and also as a student. I visited in Feb of 2002 during a particularly cold weekend and knew this was the place for me... despite the bite that comes with every gust off the lake. I never believed I'd actually get a chance to be a part of the comraderie that comes with surviving that cold.
Summertime is especially excellent. Its as though everyone is coming out of hibernation, desperate for sunshine and sangria. There's something inately romantic about the saturday fireworks, city lights at night, and 24 hour thai food. I like the feeling that there's always something to do if you know where to find it. Much like this weekend.
On Friday, I got a text message from the Lovely Rebecca Babcock telling me and some others that there was a party downtown. Tag words: free beer and free food. We wrestled up some people (Graham, Christine, and Julie) also interested in free stuff and hopped a couple trains. It was hot and muggy, but there was a nice breeze. We wandered around Michigan avenue in search of the correct path towards the promise that was food and drink for the chronically broke and stumbled upon a large gathering tucked away out of sight from any passers-by; however, there was a sign labelled emphatically, "private party" that threatened to bar us from entry. We'll see about that mr. sign!
We strolled past the barricade and the men who looked suspiciouslly like security officers. We then moved toward the loud music and general merrymaking and made for anonymity amidst the crowd. We discovered that most of the activity was centered around large tubs of ice where beer of every kind was floating just at the surface. We knew it was probably free, but what if it wasn't? I tried to act non-chalant as i gathered a few nearest to me when the "bartender" noticed me and asked, "honey, did you need something." I jumped a little bit and then asked, "do you have heinekan?" She fished one out for me and handed it to me. It WAS free. FREE.
After downing a can of extra courage, we decided to test the same tactic on the food tents. We were pointed toward a tent that was catering pasta, meatballs, and general yumminess. We grabbed plates, got in line, and were served. Awesome.
Needless to say there was much toasting to Old Town School, Rebecca, and to life. We ate our fill and then suddenly a young man came up to the center stage, looking a little nervous, but invoking excited applause. Graham, mid chomp, suddenly exclaims with effort through the mouthful, "That's the Youtube guy! He sings chocolate rain! He's a sensation."
Yes, indeed. The kid youtube celebrity was the talent at this private party. He sang a song that he'd written called "chocolate rain" where he proceeded to say "chocolate rain" in a baritone voice after every phrase for about 6 min... I didn't understand it, but everybody seemed very excited. Graham even went to shake his hand and came back starry eyed.
Julie and I were on a different mission. A mission to dance on stage. We made our way through the ad office at a doorway we realized was the entrance and walked back to where the dj was playing at the loading dock that was doubling as a stage. There we found a screen and a projector casting shadows out to the audience. They were asking "who can dance?" I raised my hand and said, "I will do the robot to this song." Response: "do your thing, girl." And so I did with Julie at my side. Glorious.
At around midnight we decided to head home, after stashing as much beer into purses and pockets as could be stashed. Julie went home, but Christine, Graham, and I continued the party at Christine's house with a makeshift game of President's and assholes that turned into a fun impromtu jam session. Graham on guitar, Christine on harmonica, and me sort of back up vocals. It should have been recorded. It was a good day.
It took ALL day Saturday to recover, but we all agree it was worth it.

The Iron Giants Gig

2007-01-07T19:25:00.000-06:00

Well, its been a little while since I last blogged, so I'll just start with the most recent things to occur and then go indepth into the Gig.
Christmas was crazy. The WHOLE family (both sides) dropped in for the event and we spent our time singing songs, eating food, and trying not to kill each other. Scrabble is just not a good idea for us.
Then, for New Year's Eve, I went to Mississippi to be with the China girls. Meg, Jen, and I partied it up old school and then I went with Jen to Natchez to visit with her fam and Everett a bit before he went back to China. It was AWESOME. I miss those girls a lot :(

Last night, however, my brother played his first BIG gig at the Cavern in Dallas. For those of you who do not know, my 22 year old brother, Jake, has a band called the Iron Giants. They play a sort of Indie Rock thing with piano, guitar, and vocals. For the past 3 1/2 years (maybe longer) they've been playing, writing, and recording their own songs. Recently, they began selling their honed recording skills for extra cash to various artists who harbor visions of fame or at least enjoy hearing themselves on tape.
Anyway, they played and played until they gathered a following who dug them and convinced them to take their act on the road. They've played dives and dances for a couple years until last night when they gave a serious show (for little or no pay) in Dallas' Lower Greenville.
They played a great show that brought in the largest crowd of all the bands playing that venue that night. I was so terribly proud of him and I took an insane amount of pointless pictures of which I will now share a small collection.

That's my life up to today!

Varanasi

2006-07-30T02:45:00.000-05:00

Trains are an interesting mode of transportation in any country, but I would probably venture to assure that no travel by train is more interesting or educational than training it in Asia. Whereas the Western world tends to fly more often, Asians for the most part move long distances on trains. We've spent weeks of our lives on trains all throughout Asia, including China, Malaysia, Singapore and India these past few months, but the most memorable overnight train ride I ever took was our first attempt in India. Up until we arrived in Rajasthan (the desert) we'd been flying to cover distances more quickly. We bought the cheapest, high-end seat, ensuring us a place to sleep and "A/C", which turned out to be a fan and an open window. The set-up was not unbearable, but it was definitely hot. Quickly though, we realized that having open windows in the desert would pose a problem, especially when the wind began to blow around 10pm. We were stretched out on our sleeper mats, no blankets, no pillow, one eye open and one hand on our bags. As the night wore on, sleep was elusive except in short spells. The sand from the endless, monsoon-thirsty desert kicked up into our seats covering us with a gritty, dry film that invaded our mouths, ears, noses, and eyes. When we finally reached Jaisalmer, the sand had gathered in mini dunes around our bodies. It actually outlined our lying positions.
One of our final train stops was to the holy city of Varanasi. It is here that Hindu spirituality enters the tangible realm in the form of the river Ganges. However, before we explored the riverside, Jen and I were in much need of some R & R, so we immediatly booked ourselves massages at Hotel Surya. There we received a full body massage, cooling head massage, and a steam bath for less than $20 total!! It was a steal. We also got a clandestine facial from another woman there who made me promise not to tell the head staff. By this time, we kind of expected something like that to happen or at least we weren't surprised. Now, the Surya was not OUR hotel... we just reaped the benefits the establishment had to offer. Usually, hotels don't offer services to outsiders, so this was extra awesome.
When I finished, I stepped outside into the beautiful courtyard of green green grass against white British inspired columned buildings. Then the clouds rolled in and soft thunder, combined with rain, created the perfect afterglow to an afternoon massage. I would have fallen asleep right there in that chair if the flies weren't so annoying! The only way to hold them off is through constant motion and angry words.
Later that evening we joined a small tour (us and a couple from Holland) headed towards the Ganges riverbank for a rare evening puja. As we drove towards the banks, the traffic was at a standstill aside from the massive and endless group of orange-clad pole bearing Hindu men supposedly on pilgramages to... everywhere. Honestly, everywhere we turned these guys showed up chanting and walking together towards an end that neither of us understood. They were in the streets, on trains, and always carrying poles with jars and other ornaments attached to them making them somewhat hazardous to the rest of the population! Alongside the orange guys, every body in Varanasi seemed to be trying to get to this 15 minute ceremony and it was becoming very apparent that we were not going to make it. The driver tried to get us there, but it was too late
To make up for the fiasco, our driver took us to one of the Ganges river's two burning ghats to witness funeral ceremonies. We walked down a dark alleyway accompanied by animals (goats, cows, donkeys, chickens), humans, and waste products from both. The electricity constantly cut in and out, which accounts for the darkness. We followed the driver down the steps leading to the river bank, which was beginning to rise due to the monsoon rains. We came to a small structure that stood about 20 ft tall and we climbed to the top to look down on the funeral ceremonies taking place near the river. This picture of that particular ghat was taken the next morning. The small building on the left side of the picture and the ledge inland was where we sat. The small patch of land leading down to the water is where bodies of loved ones are ritually burned day and night.
That night we looked down while family after family came down the stairs from the temple carrying bodies on bamboo stretchers wrapped in cloth and flowers to loud brief music-like clanging. This particular ghat was over 43 centuries old according to the decendents of this family owned ghat. One member of this ancient family explained the cremation process to us. The financial class or cultural caste of the deceased determined where the ritual took place. The high castes were placed near the river, middle classes further back, and poorer members of sociey burned near the steps furthest away from the river. Dying near the Ganges river and being ritually burned on her shores insured the deceased passage to heaven. The ritual begins by bathing the body in the spiritually fuelled waters of the Ganges. Meanwhile, member of the Ghat family and member of the deceased's family pile wood and bring fire from the temple in preparation. The body is then brought to the carefully arranged woodpile and the eldest male relative, wearing white with a freshly shaved head, begins covering the body with expensive sandlewood or other sweet smelling kindling. He then walks around the body 5 times as a ghat family member lights the pyre. The body will burn for 24 hours until only ashes and bones are left. The remains are thrown into the river so that animals who consume the remnants will enjoy humanity in their next lives. An experience to say the least.

We Survived!

2006-07-16T08:48:00.000-05:00

Three Days.... THREE DAYS in the desert! Wow. I'd now like to render an account:
First, we set off at around 7:30am. The hotel provided us with a quick cheese omelete and toast before heading out into the desert in a Jeep about 30 km west of Jaisalmer. Jen and I plus a new friend Richard left together except Richard only signed on for 2 days and we did 3. We arrive at the camal station to our friendly guides Isaac and a boy named Hussein. Isaac had salt and pepper hair (although he claimed to be only 26 and was a bit upset about the early grey), simple reddish pants and long shirt, and a ready smile. Hussein was much younger, but his smile was just as big. Both smiles were quite brown from tobacco use. We told them it was a bad habit, which only made them smile bigger. They were quick to get us onto our camels. I had a large one named Rocket and Jen and a little one named Johnny. Richard rode a camel who's name I really cannot recall... not much of a personality, but GYPSY was the guide's camel. Gypsy was a horrendous camel who bleated unceasingly with her mouth agape to reveal the remnents of whatever she'd been eating which forced us to inhale her incredbly bad breath. One night, the smell became so awful that we had to put her downwind so that we could sleep!
As we set off, Isaac began to sing in his Rajasthan/Hindi accent and it happened to be the ONE hindi song I've actually heard, enjoyed, and semi know the words to. I sang one line and for the rest of the trip he urged me to sing it. I obliged most of the time because Jen and I enjoy singing on road trips. We got along with Isaac immediatly as he walked along side our camels and talked and sang.
We stopped midday at a shady spot so that we could skip out on the most excrutiatingly hot hours of the day. This was also the time for Isaac and Hussein to let the camels out to pasture and begin cooking lunch. At every meal, first comes chai tea to ready ourselves, then some fried pasta seasoned with a little salt. Finally, he stews up some India veggie delight and makes some stove-top bread called Chapati. Although the cooking was amazing, the heat constantly stole our appetites and we could only eat a fraction of the amount we wanted to eat. Our bodies were wondering why we were eating hot food and not cold water.
As we plodded along on top of our enormous beasts of burden, I took pictures of nearly everything I saw. We passed vast flatlands dotted by magnificent dunes that change constantly wth the wind. The monsoon had not yet come, so everything was thirsty. The shrubs and grasses seemed to be begging the sky for rain, which made us all the more thirsty. Good thing we opted for the unlimited water supply package tour! Sometimes we'd pass villages were desert people and gypsy children would come running out asking for chocolate or Rupees. All villages are centered around some kind of well or pipeline that has fresh, clean drinking water. In distince contrast, or maybe in defiance of, the desolate, scortched earth surrounding them, women dressed in brightly colored saris that somehow made the desert seem more friendly and charming. They came in groups balancing perfectly metal pots of water or bushels of firewood on their heads as they traveled from distant villages to watering hole. Some women bring laundry and chatted with each other about the strange, red-faced foreigners standing stupidly in the sun while ther camels get a drink from the water trough.
At one point, we encountered a well that you had to lower a bowl into in order to draw the water out. We sat and waited while Isaac and Hussein gathered the cooking water when all of a sudden the erupted into Hindi exclamations. The water jug had fallen into the well. "This is a big problem," said Isaac, "must have water." He made a high pitched crow-like call to a passing human in the distance that failed to render aid. Isaac soon decided that tiny Hussein must be lowered into the well through the equally tiny opening. He began preparing a rope rigging for the endeavor and asked for our assistance. Then, we hear bells ringing as a herd of goats come trotting up to the well followed by their bright orange-turbined shepard. He's an old man, but he doesn't hesitate to aid in our mission to get the water bowl back. Honestly, Jen and I played with the goats and I got video of the last parts... it was awesome!
That night around 60 miles from India's border to Pakistan, we met up with some other camal tours for a night of food, music, and dancing of local faire. Wonderful! Jen and I even danced a bit. Some Indian male tourists then began drinking heavily, so Isaac suggested we find a more secluded place to sleep away from the crazy men. We slept under the stars against a sand dune on a raised concrete slab to escape the insects and animals of the desert. Soon the stars began to fade and a brilliant full moon lit up the night sky... making it somewhat hard to fall asleep. Soon though, Jen, Isaac, and I drifted off...
Day 2
We woke up to blue sky and a mouth full of sand. As I wiped my eyes, I noticed that we were not alone. About 4 boys from the nearby village were staring at us curiously from a safe distance and apparently had been for quite some time. They stood close together and had unsure, pensive expressions. A momen later, Hussein arrived to tell us we'd slept late, which is strange for him or anyone to say since NO ONE had a watch. We soon realized that the boys were waiting to have our permission to take our empty water bottles back to their village and to make an attempt at inquiring about the possibility of chocolate or rupees. We stumbled over to the breakfast slab for chai and toast, but again we weren't hungry. Suddenly, one of the village boys takes of like a rocket towards his home in the distance. Another boy runs after him and a tourist claims he is missing some sunglasses. Isaac won't tolerate this, so he sends Hussein bare-backed on a camel after the fugitive. If he'd had a lasso, I'd have thought I was at a rodeo in some parallel universe. The boy came back having stolen nothing, claiming he got spooked by the amount of people. Whatever. We went behind a tree, changed clothes, and then set off again into the desert.
We came to a lake and quietly had lunch. Herds of goats came and went. The gentle ringing of beels and bleating of goats was like a desert lullaby and we fell asleep in the shade. Richard, left at around 3 while Isaac, Jen, and I set off for a day in the dunes. Isaac seemed a little uneasy today as he did not sing a single note or make a single joke for nearly 3 hours. We asked him what was up, but he never really explained himself. We arrived to the edge of some impressive dunes and unpacked for dinner. Isaac started cooking up a storm as Jen and I cursed the heat and amused ourselves with the dung beetles fighting over fresh camel poo. We were really waitiing for the Jeep to come with the promise of cold drinks that would help us gain an appetite. The Jeep took
FOREVER and by the time we were finished eating, Isaac asked us if we REALLY wanted to sleep in the dunes. "Whatever you want of course, but now is coming rain maybe and wind. If no coming, then come animals and insects like scorpion and snake. Is no good I think, but up to you. You happy, I double happy." We decided that scorpion bites, though curable, were not pleasant and snake bites would necesitate hospital time, which we did NOT want to experience. Isaac quickly packed the camels and we starte off at dusk for a small empty house on top of a rocky slope. He promised cool wind and no insects. Awesome.
By the time we arrived, it was nearly pitch black and the stars were amazing. We sat up a long while singing, talking, and laughing until the wind really began to blow. The wind was hot and it brought sand. We covered ourselves with blankets and faced away. Somehow, I slept, but in the morning we were covered in sand and in desperate need of a shower. Thankfully, it was our last day.
Day 3
We started off at some unknown time and came to a village for water. I took pictures of some boys and colorful desert saris before walking a little further in to find cold drinks. One wealthy woman with a refridgerator sold us 3 cold-ish Pepsis that we greedily sucked down. Meanwhile, the little house has filled with small children hoping to get a glimpse. Big and small, young and old, all sported elaborate gold studes in either ears, noses or both and bright white teeth. Beautiful people.
Eventually, we sat down again for our last lunch and nap with Isaac. At around 3 o'clock we arrived at a crossroads where a jeep with cold drinks came to pick us up and take us back to the hotel. We waved goodbye to Isaac, Gypsy, Johnny, and Rocket and willed the truck to take us quickly back to cold showers and water.
If you're ever in India come and do this. There's nothing like solitude in the desert on a camel to give you some perspective about life!

Safe and Sound

2006-07-13T05:46:00.000-05:00

In case there are any worries about our travels in India, I want everyone to know that we are doing great! It is a truly enlightening and immensely humbling experience. The bombs in Mumbai went off after we'd already left the city by plane and they were in commuter/subway trains, which Jen and I never rode, but plenty of foreigners and native Mumbains do and they are the ones who truly suffered the most. So, we're now in Jaisalmer city in Rajasthan province. Camal tours are the thing to do here and we're off for an excursion tomorrow. We'll be back on the 3rd day.
Everybody be calm and no worries. Keep us in your prayers!

Kolkata, India

2006-07-08T07:47:00.000-05:00

Picture this (because right now i don't have real pictures to show you):
It's a Kolkata (Calcutta) mid-afternoon and it is HOT and humid. Walking outside is like walking into a sauna. The sun isn't completely out, but it wants to be. The rain clouds are creeping up in front of the monsoon thunderstorms hitting the west coast. The rain is coming, but your nose is bombarded by stewing garbage, street vendors, and stale polluted air. The sight laid out ahead is a dirty, pot-holed street with people coming and going and taxis honking and pushing through crowds of people. Note that there is no slowing for pedestrians here! The city wakes up right where it left off the night before. People and animals choose the coolest spot on the street to stretch out for the night. It's too hot to use a blanket and there are too few spaces indoors, so outside is the only choice. Around 6am, they arise and use the public water spout to wash off the night and previous day's filth and perhaps run a hand over their teeth, you know for good hygene.
One of the best activities for any tourist is to take a walking tour of the city being that the hostels are generally within walking distance of the best sights. Take a left on Sudder street until Chowringee Rd and then cross. There is another road that borders the Maidan park that stretches out before the Victora Memorial. This park and memorial was once the headquarters for the British presence in Calcutta. Imagine a huge bright white Victorian Mansion with crisp green gardens with lush flowers and perfect lawns where ladies in full ornamation would walk along with their Indian fan-wavers and other servants. Cricket and polo would be played on the Maidan all very posh and rigid. Native Indians were not allowed to enter this premises in those times, but now the building is a memorial where art from both India and Britain are displayed. A short history of Calcutta is also displayed bringing together Indian and British influences in the region.
On the Maidan today, you can still see groups playing cricket and soccer carelessly in the heat. You can also see grazing farm animals such as goat, cows, and horses. Some business-minded people will actually offer you a horse to ride on around the park with one of the numerous horses (big and teeny-tiny) lining the north end. People sit under the few trees along the borders to escape the heat and perhaps take a nap or an even longer rest. Buses and commuter trains blow past with people barely hanging on, arms and legs protruding, as the bus slows down, but does not stop, to let passengers on.
The colors are magnificent. Women clad in saris and other traditional dresses turn the ever present stream of people into a river of color streaming with every imaginable hue complete with accessories.
In short, there is much to discover in this place and 3 weeks simply cannot be enough to do so. Therefore, I am content to soak up as much as I can. Many foreigners in Calcutta The Lonely Planet is a godsend and no one should leave the US without one! Amen. Right now, Jennifer and I are in
Bombay until the 12th where we will then move north west to the desert for some amazing ancient architecture and camal tours. OOOH goody!

Hong Kong II

2006-07-02T04:35:00.001-05:00

We arrived in Hong Kong a few days ago and even though its only been a few months since the last time we came, some things have changed. Buildings are finished and roads are clearer, but more than that we have also changed somewhat. You never really know how much until you've retraced your steps. Meg, Michelle, and I went to the Buddha on Lantau Island again today. Michelle had never seen the largest, sitting, bronze, Buddha in the world, so it was special for her. It was also a gorgeous day, so the pics are great! Tomorrow, we move on to Macau and then catch a plane to Bangkok, where we finally pick up another plane to Calcutta. Lots of planes = lots of plane food BLEK!

World Cup Reflections

2006-06-21T09:00:00.000-05:00

Much like most of the rest of the world, I am watching the world cup. I may not know much about the players, teams, or even the basic rules, but I'm somewhat addicted. A friend of mine here in China called me an "end-of-the-series junkie" to describe my enthusiasm for sports I know little to nothing about and I thought it quite to the point. I love sports when it comes down to the last few games when tensions are almost as high as expectations. The Mavericks v Heat finals were exciting (and recently abysmally depressing) not only because my team played them for the first time... ever, but because it was a culmination point, a collection pool for excitement and anticipation for fans and players alike. The meaningful and potent emotions present around these games in all sports are an ad and marketing firm's dream as evident in the abundant revenue generated at the end of all sport seasons where the ancient instinct to defend and support the tribe is at its peak. The World Cup is a most singular phenomenon along these lines because that tension and aggressive team pride exists long before the final match. The final game is truly something to behold. I've seen the World Cup twice now and both times i've been in a country where the games were more important than anything else. In Costa Rica 4 years ago, the first words out of a cab driver's mouth on game day was "where are you going to see the game tonight?" Not, "are you?," but "where are you." Now, in China, I'm asked the same question and I can't help feeling a bit nostalgic. The final games in any sport are the most exciting and win or lose I have to watch. I am a junkie in that sense.
Strangely, I'm not interested in true endings, however. In other words, games and World Cups will come and go. Endings only last a few months and then it starts all over again. My time here in China is not such an ending. This week will be my last week of teaching. I give two more exams tomorrow and then I will put a year of coaching, lesson planning, grading, and lecturing behind me. Life has become so habitual and comfortable these last months that I nearly forgot that soon I will be back home . In spite of the excrutiating heat at the moment, I've been walking back through places I walked only one year ago. I remember how terrified I was arriving in Wuhan in the middle of the night in heat much like this. The haze only allowed a fuzziness to protrude from the neon lights shining from the sides of buildings and roads. Definitely a rabbit hole moment, but China wasn't exactly a Wonderland at first. As is usually the case, the pictures I had in my head were absolutely nothing like reality. Where were the rickshaws, silk clothes, kung fu, or even a friggin fortune cookie?? We arrived to a place beyond imagination and although Meghan warned me with her previous travel experience to China, neither of us were prepared for Wuhan. The smells, the language barrier, the very environment surrounding us was more foreign that any other place on Earth I've been. Everytime I was in public, I felt like a strange animal at the zoo or something. People actually stopped to stare as I walked by, they still do! I've never been more self-aware... Notabely, this awareness does not come with better choice in wardrobe..haha.
Anyway, the fear I felt definitely seems ridiculous now. Funny story though, I went back to an old massage parlor last week that I hand't visited in a few months with Jen and her family. I decided that this time I wanted something new
I had a massage, but also a glass jar suction thing to pull "badness" out of your body. What happens is, they have a bunch of little round glass jars and they light a fire inside each one for a second before immediately putting the jar on your skin. The jars then act like a vaccuum pulling the skin into the jar. They leave the jars on your skin for a few minutes and then remove them rather painfully to reveal huge whelts that show the level of toxins in the body... maybe? The darker the big red circle the worse is your Chi. Mine were pretty brown as you can see. I'm going to miss these small surprises, like that guy who danced to his own iPod at Vox while the DJ played. He was protesting bad music by dancing to his own beat. I loved that guy.... from a safe distance ;) I'll miss everything about China from the frustrating politics and rigid yet pliable social structure to the great food and good people. Next stop... India!!

Wednesdays

2006-05-24T09:52:00.000-05:00

Let's take a stroll through a typical Wednesday afternoon here in Wuhan, Hubei, China at South Central University for Nationalities:
Wednesdays are one of two 10 o'clock morning classes I have during the week... all the others are 8 o'clocks. But, Fridays are free days for everybody, YIPPEE! On this day, Wed., I teach sophomores oral English from 10-12 with a ten minute break in between. All classes are two hour stretches like this, so being unprepared will definitely be awkward for everyone. Recently, they've been presenting advertisements that they have created in groups to the class. I gave each group an object to sell like: a purse, a timer, an black cord with a plug on each end, something I got in Thailand, some hair rollers (thanks mom), and a tea cup. So far, the cord has seen the most interesting interpretations from the students. One group sold it as a new and highly accurate lie detector called Lie Line, which I thought was clever. Another group sold it as an appearance generator of some sort that could make you look attractive and help you lose weight... or something. Each group created a poster with a name, a slogan, and a price then performed a "commercial" in front of the class. It was fun, but I forgot to bring my camera. D'oh! I'll take pictures next week and Meg's doing something similar in her own classes.
After the 10 o'clock class, its time for the Chinese siesta from 12-2pm. Usually, during this time, I'm either watching movies while trying to lesson plan, searching for fun class activities on the internet, or off doing God knows what. But first, its time to eat. There is a place we teachers here at SCUN (acronym) where we go to get some quick food that we affectionately call "The Scary Dirty Alley" or "Scary Alley" for short. The Scary Alley is an open air market of food vendors that is not visible in any pictures I've posted on this blog. I will take pictures of it soon. Each vendor has fresh (or not so fresh) vegetables out for people to pick and choose what they would like fried up quickly with some noodles or rice. Rice here in China is more of a filler food meant to soak up the oil from the dishes placed on top and can either be eaten or tossed out afterwords. They have a multitude of choices such as Muslim noodles, a noodle soup, fried dumplings, fried rice, or some other concoction you make up. Also in the Alley there are small beauty parlors, bike shops, book stores, fake jewelry stores, copy machines for hire, and lots of stray or owned dogs floating about.
If we're in the mood for something slightly more high class in the Alley, we go to "the Lady." The Lady is a woman who takes our order at her small restaurant further down the Alley near a high school. If I could draw you a map, it wood look like an upside down L shape with a small circle at the bend of the L. The Lady is probably the only restaurant we frequent at the Alley where we always sit down to enjoy the food; otherwise, we take it away to eat at home. She knows what we like and the two men who do all the cooking are serious geniuses. Its really really good and super cheap. Bonus. The Lady has become a spot where we gather when we have some time to eat and talk about stuff: classes, plans for the future, Brad's excersise routine (jk ;). Like I said, the Lady is usually a dinner-time activity and in fact, Meg, Brad, and I went there this past Wed. to enjoy good ole' Chinese food. (Nevermind the fact that there is no other food besides Chinese food within walking distance.)
Where was I? After the siesta, Meg, Brad, and I have Chinese class together from 4-6. Lately, we've been reading conversations outloud from our textbooks and learning phrases related to Who, What, Where, When, Why, Which, and How. So far, I'm still not used to recognizing characters, but there are some that I can point out. Our teacher is very patient with us and answers our endless questions and writes everything out in both character and Pinyin.
After Chinese class, I have American culture from 7pm-9pm. Yes, this is a very long day for me, but I only had 12 hours last semester while everybody else had 14. Karma: it doesn't mess around. American culture is a fun class full of Juniors. At SCUN, every year is broken down into groups of about 30-40 students called classes. Students remain in their respective classes throughout their college careers. Along with classes 5,6,and 7 of Sophomores, I also teach writing to the Junior classes 4,5, and 6. The American culture class is an elective, so there is a mix of Juniors from all the classes, including my regular students. Lately, we've been learning about seasons in America: baseball, basketball, and football to be exact. They get a kick out of the idea that sports correspond to seasons of the year. I explain that it has to do with opportunity cost and the very roots of capitalism, but it is also a cultural bonanza. We talk about food and eating and how, although we may not be able to touch culture, we can certainly eat it.
On a more sour note, pertaining to this class, I had to accuse several students of cheating on the last exam I gave. In China, although cheating is frowned upon by society at large, plaigerism and looking on a friend's test for answers is not uncommon in the classroom. Most teachers simply look the other way and the school will actually change the scores for some students who fail after the fact. It is also not uncommon for parents to pay the school to change the grades. In our classes, mine and other foreign teachers, however, the practice is not condoned and will be punished.
Well, that's my Wednesday. Right now its Thursday and time for the weekend! YAY!

Would You like to Hear a Story?

2006-05-11T22:29:00.000-05:00

Last Week, Jennifer, Sandrine, and I went on a most action-packed adventure that begins with a 12 hour overnight bus ride from Wuhan to Shanghai. You see, it was Labor Day or May Day here in China and everybody had a week off. It used to be one day, but they extended the time off for the whole week, which means that every able-bodied (and ill-bodied man), woman, and child in China was on the move. Trains were booked the minute they went on sale and all the famous tourist attractions were bombarded by a massive influx of bodies... including ours. Truth be told, we are all very accustomed to the masses surrounding us, the knowlege of such a constant presence is a very comforting one... until that presence hawks a lugee or blows a snot rocket on the sidewalk where you happen to be walking. But I digress...

Now, most foreigners living in China tend to have the good sense (or lack of funds) to stay at home during the May holidays, but we were on a mission. Meghan, Kate, Duff, Lindsay, and two new friends went to Yunnan (one of the most beautiful provinces in China) to get some fresh air, while we headed north where some of the most significant modern historical events in China occurred. We slept on a sleeper bus all night then arrived in Shanghai at around 8am the next morning. Groggy and a bit out of sorts... we tried to figure out where we were. Shanghai is China's most lucrative economic district and has many Western comforts that we had forgotten to miss... like cheese sticks... mmmm. However, Shanghai is still immistakably Chinese with street vendors and markets selling bootlegged and fake name-brand merchandise ready and waiting for a savvy haggler to drive a deal. Its one of our favorite games to see just how low some venders are willing to go before they get upset. Of course, this is a game only played when we see something we want because it would be rude to make them go so low and then not pay. I... am still sort of learning this game... not getting very good at it though.
Upon arriving in Shanghai, we hopped in a cab and followed the Lonely Planet (famous travel book) to the Captain Hostel where we had 3 beds reserved in a dorm style room. (60 yuan per night = $7.50) We set our bags down, maybe changed?, and then began our tour of the city. We started with the Bund, which is a the riverwalk and financial district on the West Bank of the Huangpu River. It was described in the Planet as the Wall Street of China and it is indeed very impressive. Across the river is the famous space-age looking weather needle seen in the background of my picture. At one point we began searching for a legendary place that we'd heard about from a trusted friend. It was a place that promised abundant knowledge and sustenance the likes we had not known for many many months. I speak, of course, of a Barnes and Noble. We searched both sides of the river and ended up in the largest and emptiest shopping mall in the city. We walked around the city for hours and hours until we could stand it no longer and grabbed a cab and STILL the mythical bookstore remained elusive. We found a quiet place in the mall to order a drink and wait for the lights of the city to come on and then we returned, exhausted, to the hostel. However, we decided we should venture out and see more of the city at night. So, we went to a jazz club called No. 5 and it was actually very good. The next evening we went out to one of the city's night spots and found a nice little tapas restaurant. Can you imagine? We ordered a small appetizer and then I had a steak... wow... i can almost still taste it.

Over the next few days we visited a number of historical and religious sites including Dr. Sun Yat-sen's former residence and the Jade Buddha temple where there were a number of interesting worshippers performing various acts of prayer.

On the evening of May 1, we boarded a small cruise ship for another 12 hour overnight journey to the island of Putoushan and stayed for 2 nights. This island is the sight of some of China's oldest Buddhist temples as well as some of the newest ones. It is also apparently a military base from the amount of ships, soldiers, and the strange "off limits" area at the top of the mountain. We eventually made our way up to that sight to take pictures from the absolutley breathtaking view that layed out before us.

Shanghai... pre-pictures

2006-04-30T11:04:00.000-05:00

We arrived in Shanghai last Friday morning after getting over a small teaching snag of an obligation at the University. We found out on Monday that the school required teachers to teach on Sat. and Sun. before May day... well, we'd already made plans! Meghan already had plane tickets! So we had to scramble a bit to get our classes all evened out and it was exam week, so basically this week is a very welcome rest from teaching. That doesn't mean I'm not still worried about things... i mean, I called the Secretary "Ginger" John because I was afraid that my apt was burning down because I left the space heater on. Seriously. It was a bit embarrassing to admit that small worry to Sandrine and J!
We went to a beautiful art museum and another great art gallery today after walking for miles and miles all over the city. My feet are basically big bruises with toes. Our hostel is called Captain Hostel and its the most well-known hostel in the city. It has the decor of a navy ship due to the bunk bed/dorm style situation... there are even cute little port holes. (Sandrine thought they were mirrors.) The top floor of the hostel is a great bar (should be in a magazine) with a beautiful view of the Bund (riverwalk); however... we can barely afford napkins let alone a drink at any bar! Of course, lack of money doesn't phase us entirely and we have gotten to know a little bit of the Shanghai jazz scene over this last weekend. Dad... if you're reading, there are some very talented people here in Shanghai. I was at a Jazz club on Sat night where the piano player had obviously studied hymns and church music as a base for his jazz improv... very cool. Anyway, its late and I'll have pictures and more information later.
We are going to a Buddhist island off the coast tomorrow and then on to Nanjing!

Hats Off to the Host

2006-04-02T10:27:00.000-05:00

You wanna hear something funny and ironic? Well, Everett Paradise, Jen's little brother, has come to China with no previous teaching experience and no college degree, yet he has landed himself a job that pays nearly twice as much as ours and he has a huge apartment. What do we do when friends come into good fortune? We take advantage and cyphen some of that good luck for ourselves! Yep, we had a party! We called it Hats Off to the Host, so everyone at the party came with some sort of hat. There was a lot of trading and stealing o f hats of course. For example, I came to the party with a Red Army helmut and ended up with a straw hat. It was also a day to celebrate and congratulate Jennifer on her acceptance to Ole Miss law school.

St. Patrick's Day and My birthday

2006-03-23T20:42:00.001-06:00

One of our new friends, Bill (seen with shamrock on his forhead in a red shirt) had a party at his apartment for St. Patrick's Day, but nearly everyone there wasn't wearing green. So, Jennifer got out her green marker and drew shamrocks on everyone's faces. My Mama sent me this shirt! It really helped enhance the "green" idea. It was a great party because the formula was simple. People, music, and markers. This weekend marked the first weekend in at least two weeks that we stayed in Wuhan. Before we'd been travelling and now... we're a bit short of change. Thus, simplicity is key and we're back to eating off the street! The party was host some great characters and many nationalities including Germany, Norway, Nepal, China, Vietnam, and then there's the Americans. The Nepalese are the two crazies in the picture with their mouths open: Dostav and Abhie (left to right). They're friends who used to play together as children in Nepal and then lost touch. Almost 10 years later, they ran into each other in China! That was almost 2 years ago now, so they're making up for lost time! The world is so very small. Abhie is now my official camera man... he took nearly all of these pictures.
That same weekend, actually Monday, was my birthday. We all went to Giano's to celebrate with the best pizza in Wuhan. Almost all the guys from St. Patrick's Day showed up along with all my good friends from the past year. It was a great party. The pizza was hot and cheezy, the music was never ending, and I was really happy. In the midst of the merry-making, Meghan comes over and hands me a small red box. In this red box was a set of keys and when I saw them I started laughing because I thought they were a set of spare keys to my apartment. You see.... I'm very forgetful. Some might say absent-minded, so this would have been the perfect gag gift. The truth was much much better. Suddenly, from out of nowhere, Jen comes riding up to me on a brand new Chinese bike and everyone began singing Happy Birthday. I flashed back to my 7th birthday party when I got my first real bike without training wheels. It was a great moment.

Its moments like these that make me want to stay in China. Truth be told, I'm going to be very sad when I leave here. Sad because I'm leaving behind new friends and great experiences, but happy because I'll be with my family... practicing freedom of speech again.

Three Gorges... it was a bit rainy!

2006-03-14T18:22:00.000-06:00

Xi'an: The first capital of China

2006-03-06T07:33:00.000-06:00

Snowball Fight!!

2006-02-27T07:48:00.000-06:00

Wow, a lot happened today! Around 6:30pm, Jennifer, Everett, Ben, Meghan, and I went to hot pot... surprise? I'd never been to this one before, but just before we left the snow began to stick. Wuhan went from grey and wet to white and wonderful in a matter of minutes! By the time we finished with dinner, the whole city was covered in a soft layer of snow. What does one do when there is a blanket of fresh snow to slosh through? Of course we had a snowball fight! Keep in mind, it was completely freezing outside, but that did not stop us. The Chinese waiters and patrons at the restaurant thought we were completely insane as we gathered balls of ice and hurled them at each other. I think the most confusing part about the scenario for them was the fact that we were laughing hysterically at the same time. I set off a car alarm with a snowball, which was fun. Good thing I had my camera with me! Ben chronicled most of the action, but he also got into it. Before long, we'd used up all the snow on the tops of cars and on the sidewalk, so we went home. There we found even more snow to disrupt and the fight continued. Meghan wrote a love note to Ben... immediatly followed by a love note to Ben from Jennifer. Ben wrote his Chinese name and Jennifer wrote his Chinese name in Pinyin... see if you can decipher the characters? Anyway, we stayed out in the cold for a good 30 minutes total. Jennifer began to make a snowman, but I destroyed it... sorry! Our super, Lou, came out of his apartment to see just what in the WORLD we were up to and he got a face full of snow. It was awesome. Finally, it just got too cold and we went back to our homes. Meghan and I have some wet clothes hanging over the banister... maybe they'll dry? Who knows. This White Christmas is a little overdue, but it still rocks! Besides, it wouldn't be China if things arrived on time... we're just happy if they arrive at all!

Back to "normal" in Wuhan

2006-02-27T00:19:00.000-06:00

This is the last picture taken from the Big Trip. No, your eyes do not deceive you... that is an insect hanging out of Meghan's mouth. On our last night in Bangkok, we came upon a nice vendor selling BBQ grasshopper as well as other lovely grubs. So, being the excellent students of culture and society that we are, we stopped and had a bite. She actually ate that believe it or not! Oh yeah, I had one too. Sandrine has a great picture of me with bits of goodness in my teeth. The Soc/Anth Dept and Millsaps would be so proud!

On a more serious note, classes have returned and we are all getting back into the mode. No more beaches, tans, or boat rides. No more Thai, Malay, Hong Kong, Singapore, or Macau architecture and not necessarily in that order. Fortunately, all of us have Fridays off, so maybe we can get some travelling in for the sights in China. That means more pictures and I LOVE PICTURES!

In the meantime, we must try to find ways to entertain ourselves. Last weekend, Lindsey invited us over to her apartment where her boyfriend, Harrish, was kind enough to make us all a FEAST. It was fantastic. We all came together to eat delicious food and talk about the good 'ole days... which were really only about a week ago. We'd reunited over hot pot earlier that week, but this was a formal sort of welcome back get together. Kate and Duff were there to regale us with tales of India as well as two new students from Canada, Erin and Amy. Only Amy is in this picture, just to the right of me... from an onlookers perspective. My new camera has a nifty timer on it!! And I actually figured out how it works! From left to right we have Ben's fingers, Everett and Katrina. On the second row: Me, Kate, Jennifer, Meghan, and Brad. Then, Amy, Harrish (the cook!), Lindsey (sort of), and Duff (or Keith Duffy). Ben doesn't like to have his picture taken... but I have a plan to capture him on film!
OK... I have the timer ALMOST figured out. This happened when I set it for 2 seconds and not 10. But, that is not important.

We all got together and had some authentic Indian food and Harrish was nice enough to make some vegetarian things for Meghan, extra spicy things for Jennifer (and everyone else), and some mild-ish things for me! Honestly, I'm getting used to spicy food. Perhaps I'll be able to handle the spicy hot pot by the end of this year!? That's the update so far. I'm teaching an American culture and society class, which is a deviation from what I've been teaching all year. Last semester I had fewer hours than everyone else, so they created a new class so I would be working the full 14 hours. It takes a lot of preparation, but I have some plans to invite a guest lecturer every once and a while!
Right now, I'm looking out my window and it is SNOWING! Thankfully, the repair guys came today and fixed my heater! YAY! Also, Jennifer rearranged my apartment to make it more feng shui. Indeed, the chi is flowing.

The Super Friends

2006-02-26T23:52:00.000-06:00

These are the Super Friends! The most awesomely fantastic band in all of Malaysia! They played the best songs from Led Zeppelin to the Black Eyed Peas!
We cannot find anything even remotely resembling them in China. So, they are just going to have to jump in a plane and come to us! Wishful thinking...

Batu Caves

2006-02-15T09:13:00.000-06:00

While visiting my Aunt Kathy and Uncle Harry in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia we visited a Hindu shrine called the Batu Caves (see below). The caves are natural and the shrine was built inside to commemorate the birth and life of Lord Morugan, the son of Shiva, an incarnation of Vishnu. It is a very holy place of pilgramage for devotees. There are places that tourists are not allowed to enter, but the outside of the inner shrines are very ornate and colorful. There were 272 steep steps to climb! I mean... its not that much. It reminded me of the endless steps Meghan, Jen, and I climbed to reach the top of the Mayan Pyramids. The view was spectacular.
Meg, Brad, and I bought a recording that told the history and Hindu tales that make the caves so special. As we listened we walked to the inner most part of the cave that opens up to the sky and houses 3 shrines. We wanted to get closer in, but we were stopped by a group of wild monkeys.

Needless to say, the temperament of these animals was heightened and volatile. Many times, we were fearful of being bitten until we finally ran down the steps and away... but the monkeys followed us. They believed we had food hidden somewhere and, indeed, one of us had candy in their pockets that they didn't think would be a problem. No one warned us that the monkeys could be violent or that there were monkeys at all. When we got back down to the ticket booth, we asked the woman if the monkeys were always so unfriendly. She said, "of course, they are wild! Oh, by the way, try not to get to close... the probably have rabies!" That would have been excellent information BEFORE we got within 2 feet of their nasty, large, sharp incisors!

No worries! We escaped unscathed until the next monkey incident which occured in Krabi. I already explained that, but i may add one picture... its a doozy. "you and me baby ain't nothin' but mammals..."

Anyway, Aunt Kathy drove us all to and from the caves... all 6 of us (7 including her) in her company car that comfortably seats 5. It was an adventure... definitely Lester worthy! (for the fam)

Batu Caves

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Batu Caves is a limestone hill to the north of Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia caves and cave temples. It takes its name from the Sungai Batu or Batu River, which flows past the hill. which has a series of

The 'Orang Asli' (local aboriginal tribes called Jakun) had been aware of the caves for a long time. However, they became famous only after it was discovered by the American Naturalist, William Hornaday in 1878.

Of the various cave temples that comprise the site, the largest and best known is the Temple or Cathedral Cave, so named because it houses several Hindu shrines beneath its 100 m vaulted ceiling.

These serve as the focus of the Hindu community's yearly Thaipusam festival. The site is well known for its numerous macaque monkeys, which visitors feed, sometimes involuntarily. There are 272 steps that a visitor has to climb in order to access the temple at the summit of the hill. Many of the shrines relate the story of Lord Murugan's victory over Soorapadam. An audio tour is available to visitors.

At the base of the hill are two more cave temples, Art Gallery Cave and Museum Cave, both of which are full of Hindu statues and paintings.

A little below the Temple Cave is the Dark Cave, a two-kilometer network of relatively untouched caverns. The caverns contain a diverse range of cave fauna, including some unique species, such as Liphistiidae spiders. In order to maintain the cave's ecology, access is restricted. A private company is running tours to the caves.

I mean... do I lie?? Those monkeys are NUTS! Wikipedia even knows about them!

Bangkok... the Last Stop

2006-02-08T19:33:00.000-06:00

Oh My Word, I got off a bus about 2 hours ago after an arduous 12 hour journey. You wanna hear about it? Ok.
First, we woke up around 8am to be ready for the taxi that would take us to the ferry bound for a town called Suratthani that is kind of a way station for busses, trains, and planes. We were about to catch a bus. However, the driver called and said he wouldn't be there to pick us up until 12:30... had we known that, we may have gone on a half day snorkel or something. So, I packed and took a nap because you KNOW how hard it is to sleep on a bus!
We eventually got to a ferry and took a 3 hour journey across the sea, waving goodbye to the beautiful islands as we passed them one last time. We took our usual spot at the very front of the boat outside, which WAS our own little secret, but half the passengers seemed to be out there with us that time. It was great. We rubbed on a little coconut oil spiked with SPF 50 and got ourselves a nice last minute tan. Of course, it is snowing in China right now, so the tan will look sort of ridiculous. However, tan skin is already considered pretty ugly in China, so I'm striking out anyway. I'm already preparing myself mentally for my students' reactions to my new tan... it should be interesting.
Anyway, so we disembarked and hopped in the back of a small covered pick-up truck/taxi. The driver took us to a small stop about 10 min away and told us to wait. We waited for about 30 min until they decided we weren't going to buy anything in the shop and then carted us to the REAL bus stop at around 5pm. Keep in mind that we left at 12:30pm. Although the huge double-decker bus was parked not 10 feet away from the sidewalk, we were forced to wait at the bus stop for another 2 1/2 hours because the driver was missing. The bus stop attendants were ready for us to leave long before that, especially because everybody was asking the same questions: What's happening? and Where is the bus driver?
FINALLY, the driver came, they counted us and we were gone by 8:30... 1 hour late.... you'd think we'd arrive an hour late as well, right? Wrong. Even though we stopped numerous times for what seemed like absolutely no legitimate reason, we arrived in Bangkok about 30 min AHEAD of schedule (5:30am)... i mean, the guy was driving like we were being chased by evil itself. I only noticed the speed once or twice because I kept nodding off and stuff. It took us FOREVER to find a place to stay though because nobody checks out at 6am.
Now we're in Bangkok and about to take the last steps on our month long voyage. I will post pictures as soon as possible!

Moving ON

2006-02-05T07:40:00.000-06:00

Yes, we are trudging on... journeying through... and sallying forth to our next destination, which is Koh Samui. We left Koh Phi Phi today, much to the dismay of Jennifer Paradise who left behind a very sad man from Laos who will no doubt mourn her departure for days and days. So far we've been very lucky to find hotels that will pack all five of us into one room and knock down the price for us a bit. I'm sleeping on a mat tonight, but that's ok cuz on family vaca... I always got the cot or the sofa bed. The brothers need their space.
We're actually in Phucket right now on a beach called Patong, well not exactly ON the beach, but within walking distance. Not that it matters at all because we are only staying for the night. Unfortunately... or fortunately depending on your perspective (the 'Rentals are probably ready for me to be out of Thailand, but is China really any better Folks?)... our travels are coming to an end very soon. We fly out of Bangkok on the 11th to Macau where we will catch a 2 hour bus to Guanzhou and then a 12 hour train to Wuhan... hurray.
Tomorrow however, will be a long trip in and of itself because we must first ride in a ferry for an hour then hop into a A/C van for 4 hours to get to the apparently awesome islands of Samui. I intend to read this new cool book I bought in Hong Kong called, Gilead. It is very good so far and interesting. I'm not just saying that because bus rides and ferrys can leave little else in terms of entertainment, either!
On a more personal note... I would now like to express my feelings about the Thai massage that I had today. (p.s... there was no happy ending) Today, Meghan, Lindsey, and I went in search of a reasonably priced Thai massage. I had a shoulder and neck massage done in Phi Phi by a very good-looking transexual who complimented me on my outfit everyday, so I love her. Nevertheless, we wanted to experience a Thai massage, so we found ourselves in a small beauty shop standing in front of three very inviting mats. We all layed down, but I was asked to stand up again because I was wearing a skirt and that just wouldn't work. An awkward dance ensued as the masseuse brought a pair of pants for me to step into, but didn't allow me to first take OFF the skirt. She laughed at me a bit while she wrapped her arms around me to tie the pants off, meanwhile said skirt is now around my waist. Eventually that came off and we were ready to begin.
My masseuse began at my feet, slowly bending each one forward and sideways until she heard a small pop. Thai massage is a series of pressure placements on certain body points, followed by a slow rub. It was very relaxing at first and then I began to think that her hands must have been made of steel. Every touch was sure to leave a bruise until I finally had to say "OW! Sorry, could you please do it a bit softer?" That sort of helped, but then all of a sudden she picked up my left leg so she put herself in between my legs and contort them in horrendous ways. (Tri Delta girls stop making that face right now!) I haven't stretched like that in a while, so I don't know what kind of shape I'll be in tomorrow. Despite the initial strangeness, I eventually fell asleep during the hour long ordeal until I felt a small slap on my shoulder which was my cue to turn over. This was the best bit yet. Back rubs are the best, but my butt wasn't fully prepared for the elbow that came down pointedly upon it. I let out a little yelp, to tell the truth. Eventually she sat on my legs with her knees, grabbed my arms and pulled back so that I looked like one of those mermaids that go on the front of pirate ships for a minute. Up and down, up and down.
Basically, it was the best $10 i've spent so far!
Love and Kisses,
Lester

Koh Phi Phi continued...

2006-02-03T00:30:00.000-06:00

As the wave crashed through her small store, she desperately grabbed for something solid to hold on to. She grabbed the shelves that were bolted to the wall and watched helplessly as other victims fought the rushing water. Unfortunately, these people were destined to become the bodies she described floating around her small shop. Broken glass and debris sliced and crushed anything in its path and the wave had such force that it brought down sea walls that were built only two months before. As she continued clutching her anchor of shelves, a large girder gave way and landed on her leg. She couldn't move. The water rose to her neck and she was certain she would become another one of the bodies floating about her, but the wave came back and pushed the heavy concrete away. Once free, she climbed the nearby stairs to the second floor to get to higher ground. Although her leg was injured and she'd sustained many other minor cuts, she spent the rest of the morning pulling survivors out of the water. By this time, the water was high enough to touch the second floor of her small shop, which is about 10-12 feet high. She said that those who did not die from the pounding wave or razer sharp glass being thrown like knives by the force of the tsunami were killed by ingesting sea water filled with sharp sand and debris that ripped through their digestive tracts.
Today, she still owns the small shop that saved her life that day (I bought a really cool wrap there), but the tsunami devastated this small island and she will be forced to close soon. She has a restaurant a few hundred yards away that requires more of her attention and she is short-handed because not many people are returning to the island to find work and she has no children to help she and her husband. Her small village on the opposite side of the island lost hundreds of people, her friends, faces she longs to see.

This was her story about Dec. 26, 2004.

Koh Phi Phi

2006-02-02T00:59:00.000-06:00

But first, a small disclaimer: In the last blog, I mentioned the use of drugs in the jungle. Although it may have seemed confusing at first read, let me assure those who read my blogs that I am NOT doing drugs in Thailand or anywhere else for that matter. Thanks :)

Koh Phi Phi is a series of tiny islands in Western Thailand that were devastated by the tsunami last year. Although the area has rebuilt much of what was lost, the reminders of the massive wave that swept through the streets and beaches of Phi Phi still remain. Shopkeepers have drawn lines on the walls to show how high the water reached along with pictures that chronicle the carnage that once was. One woman I spoke to told me her own experience on that day:
It was a normal day. She opened her small souvenir shop about 300m away from the beach. At around 10:30am something strange began to happen. She heard screams coming from outside and began running away from the Northern shore. A moment later, large pieces of debris from the ocean floor began dropping from the sky and then a wall of water about 3 to 4 meters high rushed through the sidewalk. All of this happened in a matter of seconds.
More Later.

Our day in Krabi

2006-01-28T06:54:00.000-06:00

Today, Jennifer, Sandrine, and I went on a little adventure by ourselves. Meghan, Lindsey, and the Brads journeyed to a beach while we went on a journey through the city. Krabi is not a large town, but it is full of surprises. For instance, Sand, Jen, and I woke up this morning fairly early and went in search of money and food. We stumbled upon a restaurant called M & M that advertised everything from Mexican to Schnitzel. It was just something we had to see for ourselves.
It was an open faced restaurant, so there was not a door to walk through. We left our shoes just outside and sat down at a small table for 3. The menu boasted a 2 page breakfast menu complete with both American and European versions of toast and eggs. Omeletes and toast, yoghurt and fruit, pancakes and french toast... that was just breakfast. For lunch and dinner they had veggie burgers, sandwiches, spaghetti, lasagna, bratwurst, chicken, melted cheese on toast, pizza, masala, Thai curry, Indian curry, nachos, enchiladas, burritos, beer... i mean the list goes on. Needless to say: we were in HEAVEN. We ate there for both breakfast and dinner.
OK, nevermind food... what did we do for the day? Besides eat? We just sort of stumbled around until we found ourselves staring at the two large limestone mountain.. things.. jutting out of the ground that look as though they are guarding the entrance to the town of Kabi. There are two of them, one on either side of the ocean inlet that borders Kabi. Thick mangrove forests cover the small islands and high ground on the other side of the small body of water. We began walking from Kabi towards the limestone giants because we saw something glistening on another hill just behind them. We decided,based on previous experience in Hong Kong, that lone shiney things on tops of hills in Asia are most definitely statues of Buddha; therefore, it was our mission to see it for ourselves. The Buddha is gold and it glistens sharply in the morning sun. We began to walk. We walked for nearly an hour and found ourselves making little to no progress in reaching the blessed statue. Of course, we stopped sporadically for water... and shiney things that called to us from the many store fronts that line the central road.
Then, we found ourselves a taxi and off we went towards whatever it was that inhabited such a prominent spot on the top of a mountain. Once there we saw immediate confirmation that we were dealing with Buddha... monks. Lots of them. Oh yes, and a huge statue that depicted Buddha, but monks as well. I began to take pictures and Jen and Sandrine began to take pictures and before we knew it... we'd lost each other. Well.. mostly I'D lost them. I began walking around looking lost and I stumbled upon some stairs that led up. I was fully prepared to climb them and reach the shiney Buddha that surely lay ahead, but I was thwarted by MONKEYS. We've had problems with monkeys in the past and I was terribly wary of them.
In Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, we went to the Batu caves which is a large Hindu temple dedicated to Lord Murgan a son of Shiva. Devotees and tourists alike go to the caves to experience something holy, but we found monkeys. Mean monkeys that wanted to bite us and YOU KNOW those monkeys were infected with RAGE or the HIV or something. Anyway, they chased us out of the caves practically and ever since then, we've had bad feelings about monkeys.
Back to the thwarting... the monkeys made it impossible for me to pass because they kept creeping towards me. One of them actually made like he was going to swing from me like a tree and I had to get out. I ran into the others while making a break for it and we all agreed that we weren't going to let monkeys keep us from seeing the Great Shiney Buddha. http://www.rgourley.com/thailand/tigercave.htm This Buddha rests on top of a monastery/cave system called the Tiger Caves. Monks live and pray in the caves. Every cave has a statue of Buddha as well as small crawling spaces perfect for silent and introspective meditation. Some of the caves go so deep into the limestone that it seems as though no normal human could fit into them... let alone feel at peace. But, these particular practitioners' main goal is to shut out those material things that distract them from their true spiritual nature. At one of the platforms hugging the limestone face, a human skeleton stands next to a large statue of Buddha. This is meant to remind the monks of their own physical vulnerability and ultimate demise. With this truth, the monks are free to occupy their minds with the infinite possibilities of the spirit.
So we climbed those stairs and pretended not to notice the disease infested mongrols as then attempted to descend upon us... NO! However, when we got to the top of the stairs, we were met directly with another set of stairs... going down. I was confused. We pressed on in spite of the strange attitude given by the staircase and found ourselves in a truly magical place. Monks everywhere were going about their daily rituals... laundry, prayer, reading, and hair cuts/shaving. We followed a few paths that led to some magnificent old trees that had trunks that looked more like webbed feet. The roots jutted out towards the top of the tree and the bark just sort of hung down like sheets hanging from a clothesline. It was really beautiful and we were the only people around. We explored the small caves and came away feeling as though we'd touched something sacred.
If you're wondering... no we never saw the shiney Buddha, but we don't feel in any way short-changed. We spent an entire afternoon searching, finding, and then not finding it, but the journey was probably just as cool as the Buddha.
HOWEVER, spelunking and flip-flops are not always a good mix. My feet have never been so dirty.

Thailand and stuff about before Thailand

2006-01-27T20:04:00.000-06:00

Today is Saturday and I am sitting in a guest house, which is a fancy way of saying hostel, called the P House in Kabi, Thailand. The place is beautiful and the rooms are much nicer than the other places we've been. Hong Kong was nice enough, but it was community showers and bathrooms. JP didn't like that very much! Well, not like we were all showering together, but the two showers were used by all of the people staying in the dorms... and some of them had been there for MONTHS. eew. they smelled wretched.
In Macau, we stayed in a small hotel in an alley that was reccommended by the Lonely Planet... which is an excellent travelling companion. That was sort of awful. Thank God we only stayed there one night, cuz the pillows smelled like urine. Oh yes... urine. Everybody's pillows smelled like that, not just mine. Then, we stayed with Aunt Kathy in Malaysia.
BUT NOW, we're in Thailand in this beautiful open lobby with blooming flowers, sunlight, and a little baby snoozing in a cradle. The weather is beautiful. Very cool, but not cold, yet hot enough to walk around in a bathing suit. We ate at a small restaurant last night near our hostel where you must take off yours shoes and climb up to sit on pillows around a small table. We ate curry and rice. My curry just happened to be the hottest one out of everybody's and I have the lowest tolerance of it. Despite the very spicy nature of it, it was delicious.
We're probably going to be moving again today, so I'll try to keep updating as the days go by. We're going to be hitting some of the places that were touched by the tsunami in the next couple of weeks and we'll eventually end up in Bangkok to try and catch a ride back to Wuhan... ICK! The thought of returning to a place that's cold, rainy, and forever dirty is almost torture, but that's why they call it vacation!