Internet and electricity in general is pretty shoddy here in Salone, so the blogs will be updated and posted very randomly...please have patience! :)
Carolina and I are absolutely loving our experience here...even though we haven't had water in our house for two days and electricity this whole time (for the most part)...We are learning our way around Freetown - learning Krio and learning to bargain with the locals... :)
Will write again soon!
Friday, June 10, 2011
Preparations and Landing in Salone...
Yet another adventure begins as mom and dad drop me off at the LAX airport and worry about what I am about to get myself into. From their end, I cannot imagine what the difference this trip will be from any other…except maybe three months away and being pretty disconnected. I mean I have definitely left for 6 weeks at a time without calling home more than maybe once…and this time I have a cell phone. And when I have emailed home on previous trips, it seems to go unnoticed and mostly without reply.
Nonetheless, my parents dropped me off, and for once, I wanted to cry. I really am not sure why…it may have been because I didn’t have my usual travel companions with me, or because I was going to be working for someone else without having too much say in the work. I guess I wouldn’t even really know that since work hasn’t even started yet…but…I was actually sad.
I texted Carolina, who is also interning in Salone for the summer, to see if she had yet checked in. I hadn’t received a reply for hours and got worried she had backed out of it. As I got into the security line, I kept looking around for her as if she would just walk right up to me. But she didn’t. I started to get really worried as I was walking up to the gate as people were boarding and I still hadn’t heard from her. I sat down to make some last calls before I took off, and as I got in line to board, I saw her turned around in line in front of me excitedly waving. This helped part of the anxiety and wonder of whether I was going to be on this adventure on my own.
I knew having Carol with me this summer would be great for so many reasons. Of course I would have one of my dearest friends from my program with me, which is always wonderful. But I will also just have a familiar face near me, in general. But I also just knew that a part of me that likes being nurturing would be kicked into gear, and that I would want to take care of and protect Carol. Not that she needed it, but it made me turn on a part of me that I needed to have on and be alert for this summer.
Regardless of how much I fly, I haven’t been completely comfortable with it in years. As I have gotten older, and maybe realized how much more I want to do in my life, I have grown to be more afraid of flying. However, this is the first time I flew without any concern whatsoever. Again, maybe it was because I had Carol with me and I wanted to seem strong…or maybe it is because I am on the right path and this whole trip is meant to be.
To further convince me that there “are no coincidences” (thank you, Celestine Prophecies), I met an American woman from Sierra Leone who was returning home after being away for 20 years. I met her as we both ran to use the restroom on the flight from London to Freetown. Well, we stopped in Marrakesh to fill up on gas, but as we were waiting for 45 minutes, we were not allowed to use the restroom. When they finally allowed us to, many of us ran to the back…but then were immediately told to sit down.
So we just sat in the back as we took off again, so that when we were allowed to take off our seatbelts, we would be one of the first allowed in the bathroom. I learned that she was actually from the San Fernando Valley, and was an epidemiologist for the LA Sheriff’s Department. She is here with the West African Medical Mission where she will be teaching classes in public health at various universities in Freetown…from what she was told anyway. I have learned there is much discrepancy between what to expect and what is real. Anyway, I thought about how perfect the project seemed to be for mom. I mean, a public health/epidemiological project in Freetown, especially as a lecturer, so mom’s hands don’t have to get TOO dirty just yet.
Overall, the flights were easy. As always, I got sneezy and stuffy on the planes. It never fails. I didn’t sleep too much, but I definitely rested my eyes a ton on the flights. I think a part of me got anxious about Sergio, my supposed subtenant, and how that all was going to play out. Then I realized that I was probably creating my own anxiety, and had nothing to worry about…regardless of what happened with him. I seem to do that to myself – not allow myself to just relax and be present. I often find myself creating more work for no reason.
Then I started thinking about Fall 2011, and what it will look like. I am SO Type A that of course I have to plan my semester the summer before…before I am even at my summer internship. But I was thinking about my capstone, and trying to come up with what I want my research to actually be. Is it looking at the significance of forgiveness? I mean, I am in the perfect place to learn how it is possible. After so many atrocities in the Civil War, so many communities came together to reconcile. They did it on their own and not by any governmental mandate. They did it because they truly understood the importance of forgiving one another…and the need for one another to truly rehabilitate their society. I want to learn how they did it and how they do it…is it something engrained? Something that has been a part of their culture for generations or did they have to learn it for this last awful event?
I also thought about the significance of storytelling, especially in the realm of trauma healing. Of course, this just made me excited about getting home and applying what I learn to Word Play! and the youth we will be working with. I would love the opportunity to apply the curriculum to former child soldiers, “war babies”, and others who have a special need to share their stories with the world. Where better to implement storytelling than in a culture rich of oral histories?! A part of me feels like this research may be more applicable to myself and my community at home. However, I also know the need to learn forgiveness within the West, and how misunderstood it means. Our huge human egos often tell us that to apologize or to forgive is a sign of weakness…holding grudges, being angry, and placing blame feels more natural to many of us.
This is just an example of all the thoughts going through my head on the flights. On the London leg, I noticed there were many white people. It just made me realize how many people were probably going to be in Freetown doing various projects. One part of me immediately got annoyed because it reminded me of northern Uganda and all the various NGOs who saturated it. It didn’t bother me that people wanted to help, obviously, but it somewhat created a culture of entitlement. It hindered the people from trying to help themselves, and instead create their own solutions and be self-reliant. The other part of me realized these people were probably no different from myself – people who care to make this world a better place, and want to learn from the locals, as well.
UPON LANDING
As Veronica suggested, I looked at Carolina when we landed and told her to take a deep breath before we really hit the frenzy that is the Freetown airport. As soon as the plane doors opened, we booked it to the front of the immigration line so we wouldn’t waste time there. Ann-Marie, the lady we were in communication with about our lodging, had apparently sent a guy named Ibissa to take care of us. We saw my name on the torn up cardboard, and went to him. She sang high praises of him and how reliable he was, so I figured I would have to trust him. We got through immigration quickly, and our bags came in no time. As we went through customs in seconds, people started to swarm us to get in a taxi, etc. We knew we had Ibissa, so we let all the drivers know. For some reason, Ibissa kept leaving us telling us he would be right back. I am not quite sure why. While we were waiting for him at one point, he told me to exchange my money and buy my sim card. Before I left the States, the exchange rate was supposed to be 1 to 4480. When I exchanged money at the airport, it was closer to 4300…I thought I had no choice, so I exchanged $60. I also bought my sim card, which I found out later was overpriced. This was what was suggested to me by various individuals, but I wish I would’ve waited. As we waited for Ibissa to reappear, a second man asked us for our bag tags. I explained I already showed another guy but he insisted to know the name of the man who checked. I looked at him in disbelief – did he notice that I wasn’t exactly a local who would know the names of the airport employees? He honestly got pretty ticked that I couldn’t identify which man had asked for my tags earlier. As I was trying to balance all my bags to look for the bag tag again, the gentleman who had checked earlier came to our rescue and told him he had already checked. The jerk looked at me and said, “If you had been able to tell me who it was earlier, I wouldn’t have asked so much”. I thought to myself, “Please tell me other people in this country will be kinder than this man.” Finally, Ibissa came back.
Then, after we finally exited the airport, we walked over to Pelican water taxi. I had heard there were various ports of entry in Freetown, but Ibissa helped us purchase the $40 (USD) tickets for the water taxi and load us into a van to the port. There was no rhyme or reason to what was going on…you couldn’t tell who worked where or if they were just locals walking around. Once I got in the van, I noticed my bags weren’t there, and the driver kept promising a few of us that the bags would show up at the port, as well, but in a different van. Why we trusted them, I don’t know. And I didn’t lock up my bags. Ibissa said goodbye and said a driver would pick us up at the other side of the bay. He then told me that Ann-Marie told him I had a gift for him. For the life of me, I could not understand what this gift was. I asked him to call Ann-Marie so I could speak to her and clarify what gift I was to give him. She informed me that he means a tip and could not help me figure out how much I should give him. I gave him the equivalent of $1 and when he asked for more to give his friend, I had to say no and walk away. I know they are in more need than me, but I also don’t really have much at this point in my life. Anyway, after we said goodbye to Ibissa and he assured us our bags would find us on the boat, we left for the dock.
I had a moment of concern, and then thought “T.I.A.” – as much as it doesn’t seem to make sense, somehow it does to them. So I figured all would be fine, and it was. We got to the water taxi and waited a few minutes for the bags to load onto the boat. When we were finally allowed onto the dock made of mismatched wooden planks that ferociously rocked to the waves, we attempted to board the small speedboat that was to carry approximately 15 passengers and 30 pieces of luggage. Thankfully, Carolina and my luggage made it into the boat, but many bags were just hanging out on the front of boat, jumping up and down with the breaks. It was quite entertaining. After about 30 minutes and several laughing fits later, Carolina and I got to the other side of the bay.
Whoever was in charge of planning the Freetown airport was high...on crack. There is no doubt. They decided to build it on the other side of the bay where you would either have to drive hours around the peninsula to actually get into Freetown, take a helicopter in (and I hear the Russian pilots are drunk on vodka as they fly you), or take a couple water options. The Pelican water taxi seems to be most popular and supposedly one of the safest ways to get in. Once again, T.I.A.
When we got off the boat, and they started bringing out our bags, Carolina realizes she lost our baggage tags. We had a moment of stress, but since our driver wasn’t there yet, we figured we had time to find the tags. The workers realized we were a tad stressed and asked us to point out our bags and identify ourselves by names (to the bag tags). So, thankfully we were able to get our bags and we waited for our driver. Everyone else was already out of there. A few minutes later, a green Toyota 4Runner pulls up and they can tell we are waiting for them. Before proper introductions, our bags go in the trunk and we jump inside the vehicle. Mama Samara picked us up with Mr. Santos, her driver, and her daughter, Effe. Mama Samara is a heavy set African woman with a deep laugh and a beautiful accent. I definitely thought we would fall in love with her. The three of them made small talk with us and helped us learn a few words in Krio. They laughed at us as we attempted to use our new words.
We drove through Aberdeen and Lumley Beach. It looked beautiful although it was pitch black without street lamps. As we drove up to the compound, it reminded me again of the first night in Kampala when we drove to NAME’s house. As we parked, 5 or 6 dogs ran up barking. For a second, I got scared hoping they wouldn’t always bark at us…but I also appreciated the security. The next day we met Jungle, Doggy, Olivetti, Echo, Fifi, and 50 cent. At some point, we noticed that Echo’s ears were both cut up and raw, almost still bloody. Apparently they all get into fights with one another but not too often. A little disturbing, but…
We walked into a small room with AC blaring…and one bed. At first, I was so tired I didn’t realize this wasn’t the room we signed up for. I just wanted a bed. Then, we asked one of the kids, Emma, in the house if there was another room with a private bath and two beds. They pointed to another room across from ours and said a guy from Denmark lived in it. Apparently the room next to ours was empty, but we figured we would just sleep in the one room at least that night until we understood what was going on a bit more. Later, we find out Emma is sleeping in the other room. Our British roommate, Helen, is coming in a week, so I wonder what happens to Emma at that point. Plus, why does she get a room and not the other kids? Anyway…We were confused and a tad upset, but got ready for bed. They then told us that the lights would be turned off at midnight. I figured they meant we had a curfew at midnight, which was weird, but ultimately I didn’t care. But no. They meant they turn off the generator at midnight. I didn’t know how it would feel without the AC, so I didn’t bug too much about it. But did I learn QUICKLY what that meant.
Nonetheless, my parents dropped me off, and for once, I wanted to cry. I really am not sure why…it may have been because I didn’t have my usual travel companions with me, or because I was going to be working for someone else without having too much say in the work. I guess I wouldn’t even really know that since work hasn’t even started yet…but…I was actually sad.
I texted Carolina, who is also interning in Salone for the summer, to see if she had yet checked in. I hadn’t received a reply for hours and got worried she had backed out of it. As I got into the security line, I kept looking around for her as if she would just walk right up to me. But she didn’t. I started to get really worried as I was walking up to the gate as people were boarding and I still hadn’t heard from her. I sat down to make some last calls before I took off, and as I got in line to board, I saw her turned around in line in front of me excitedly waving. This helped part of the anxiety and wonder of whether I was going to be on this adventure on my own.
I knew having Carol with me this summer would be great for so many reasons. Of course I would have one of my dearest friends from my program with me, which is always wonderful. But I will also just have a familiar face near me, in general. But I also just knew that a part of me that likes being nurturing would be kicked into gear, and that I would want to take care of and protect Carol. Not that she needed it, but it made me turn on a part of me that I needed to have on and be alert for this summer.
Regardless of how much I fly, I haven’t been completely comfortable with it in years. As I have gotten older, and maybe realized how much more I want to do in my life, I have grown to be more afraid of flying. However, this is the first time I flew without any concern whatsoever. Again, maybe it was because I had Carol with me and I wanted to seem strong…or maybe it is because I am on the right path and this whole trip is meant to be.
To further convince me that there “are no coincidences” (thank you, Celestine Prophecies), I met an American woman from Sierra Leone who was returning home after being away for 20 years. I met her as we both ran to use the restroom on the flight from London to Freetown. Well, we stopped in Marrakesh to fill up on gas, but as we were waiting for 45 minutes, we were not allowed to use the restroom. When they finally allowed us to, many of us ran to the back…but then were immediately told to sit down.
So we just sat in the back as we took off again, so that when we were allowed to take off our seatbelts, we would be one of the first allowed in the bathroom. I learned that she was actually from the San Fernando Valley, and was an epidemiologist for the LA Sheriff’s Department. She is here with the West African Medical Mission where she will be teaching classes in public health at various universities in Freetown…from what she was told anyway. I have learned there is much discrepancy between what to expect and what is real. Anyway, I thought about how perfect the project seemed to be for mom. I mean, a public health/epidemiological project in Freetown, especially as a lecturer, so mom’s hands don’t have to get TOO dirty just yet.
Overall, the flights were easy. As always, I got sneezy and stuffy on the planes. It never fails. I didn’t sleep too much, but I definitely rested my eyes a ton on the flights. I think a part of me got anxious about Sergio, my supposed subtenant, and how that all was going to play out. Then I realized that I was probably creating my own anxiety, and had nothing to worry about…regardless of what happened with him. I seem to do that to myself – not allow myself to just relax and be present. I often find myself creating more work for no reason.
Then I started thinking about Fall 2011, and what it will look like. I am SO Type A that of course I have to plan my semester the summer before…before I am even at my summer internship. But I was thinking about my capstone, and trying to come up with what I want my research to actually be. Is it looking at the significance of forgiveness? I mean, I am in the perfect place to learn how it is possible. After so many atrocities in the Civil War, so many communities came together to reconcile. They did it on their own and not by any governmental mandate. They did it because they truly understood the importance of forgiving one another…and the need for one another to truly rehabilitate their society. I want to learn how they did it and how they do it…is it something engrained? Something that has been a part of their culture for generations or did they have to learn it for this last awful event?
I also thought about the significance of storytelling, especially in the realm of trauma healing. Of course, this just made me excited about getting home and applying what I learn to Word Play! and the youth we will be working with. I would love the opportunity to apply the curriculum to former child soldiers, “war babies”, and others who have a special need to share their stories with the world. Where better to implement storytelling than in a culture rich of oral histories?! A part of me feels like this research may be more applicable to myself and my community at home. However, I also know the need to learn forgiveness within the West, and how misunderstood it means. Our huge human egos often tell us that to apologize or to forgive is a sign of weakness…holding grudges, being angry, and placing blame feels more natural to many of us.
This is just an example of all the thoughts going through my head on the flights. On the London leg, I noticed there were many white people. It just made me realize how many people were probably going to be in Freetown doing various projects. One part of me immediately got annoyed because it reminded me of northern Uganda and all the various NGOs who saturated it. It didn’t bother me that people wanted to help, obviously, but it somewhat created a culture of entitlement. It hindered the people from trying to help themselves, and instead create their own solutions and be self-reliant. The other part of me realized these people were probably no different from myself – people who care to make this world a better place, and want to learn from the locals, as well.
UPON LANDING
As Veronica suggested, I looked at Carolina when we landed and told her to take a deep breath before we really hit the frenzy that is the Freetown airport. As soon as the plane doors opened, we booked it to the front of the immigration line so we wouldn’t waste time there. Ann-Marie, the lady we were in communication with about our lodging, had apparently sent a guy named Ibissa to take care of us. We saw my name on the torn up cardboard, and went to him. She sang high praises of him and how reliable he was, so I figured I would have to trust him. We got through immigration quickly, and our bags came in no time. As we went through customs in seconds, people started to swarm us to get in a taxi, etc. We knew we had Ibissa, so we let all the drivers know. For some reason, Ibissa kept leaving us telling us he would be right back. I am not quite sure why. While we were waiting for him at one point, he told me to exchange my money and buy my sim card. Before I left the States, the exchange rate was supposed to be 1 to 4480. When I exchanged money at the airport, it was closer to 4300…I thought I had no choice, so I exchanged $60. I also bought my sim card, which I found out later was overpriced. This was what was suggested to me by various individuals, but I wish I would’ve waited. As we waited for Ibissa to reappear, a second man asked us for our bag tags. I explained I already showed another guy but he insisted to know the name of the man who checked. I looked at him in disbelief – did he notice that I wasn’t exactly a local who would know the names of the airport employees? He honestly got pretty ticked that I couldn’t identify which man had asked for my tags earlier. As I was trying to balance all my bags to look for the bag tag again, the gentleman who had checked earlier came to our rescue and told him he had already checked. The jerk looked at me and said, “If you had been able to tell me who it was earlier, I wouldn’t have asked so much”. I thought to myself, “Please tell me other people in this country will be kinder than this man.” Finally, Ibissa came back.
Then, after we finally exited the airport, we walked over to Pelican water taxi. I had heard there were various ports of entry in Freetown, but Ibissa helped us purchase the $40 (USD) tickets for the water taxi and load us into a van to the port. There was no rhyme or reason to what was going on…you couldn’t tell who worked where or if they were just locals walking around. Once I got in the van, I noticed my bags weren’t there, and the driver kept promising a few of us that the bags would show up at the port, as well, but in a different van. Why we trusted them, I don’t know. And I didn’t lock up my bags. Ibissa said goodbye and said a driver would pick us up at the other side of the bay. He then told me that Ann-Marie told him I had a gift for him. For the life of me, I could not understand what this gift was. I asked him to call Ann-Marie so I could speak to her and clarify what gift I was to give him. She informed me that he means a tip and could not help me figure out how much I should give him. I gave him the equivalent of $1 and when he asked for more to give his friend, I had to say no and walk away. I know they are in more need than me, but I also don’t really have much at this point in my life. Anyway, after we said goodbye to Ibissa and he assured us our bags would find us on the boat, we left for the dock.
I had a moment of concern, and then thought “T.I.A.” – as much as it doesn’t seem to make sense, somehow it does to them. So I figured all would be fine, and it was. We got to the water taxi and waited a few minutes for the bags to load onto the boat. When we were finally allowed onto the dock made of mismatched wooden planks that ferociously rocked to the waves, we attempted to board the small speedboat that was to carry approximately 15 passengers and 30 pieces of luggage. Thankfully, Carolina and my luggage made it into the boat, but many bags were just hanging out on the front of boat, jumping up and down with the breaks. It was quite entertaining. After about 30 minutes and several laughing fits later, Carolina and I got to the other side of the bay.
Whoever was in charge of planning the Freetown airport was high...on crack. There is no doubt. They decided to build it on the other side of the bay where you would either have to drive hours around the peninsula to actually get into Freetown, take a helicopter in (and I hear the Russian pilots are drunk on vodka as they fly you), or take a couple water options. The Pelican water taxi seems to be most popular and supposedly one of the safest ways to get in. Once again, T.I.A.
When we got off the boat, and they started bringing out our bags, Carolina realizes she lost our baggage tags. We had a moment of stress, but since our driver wasn’t there yet, we figured we had time to find the tags. The workers realized we were a tad stressed and asked us to point out our bags and identify ourselves by names (to the bag tags). So, thankfully we were able to get our bags and we waited for our driver. Everyone else was already out of there. A few minutes later, a green Toyota 4Runner pulls up and they can tell we are waiting for them. Before proper introductions, our bags go in the trunk and we jump inside the vehicle. Mama Samara picked us up with Mr. Santos, her driver, and her daughter, Effe. Mama Samara is a heavy set African woman with a deep laugh and a beautiful accent. I definitely thought we would fall in love with her. The three of them made small talk with us and helped us learn a few words in Krio. They laughed at us as we attempted to use our new words.
We drove through Aberdeen and Lumley Beach. It looked beautiful although it was pitch black without street lamps. As we drove up to the compound, it reminded me again of the first night in Kampala when we drove to NAME’s house. As we parked, 5 or 6 dogs ran up barking. For a second, I got scared hoping they wouldn’t always bark at us…but I also appreciated the security. The next day we met Jungle, Doggy, Olivetti, Echo, Fifi, and 50 cent. At some point, we noticed that Echo’s ears were both cut up and raw, almost still bloody. Apparently they all get into fights with one another but not too often. A little disturbing, but…
We walked into a small room with AC blaring…and one bed. At first, I was so tired I didn’t realize this wasn’t the room we signed up for. I just wanted a bed. Then, we asked one of the kids, Emma, in the house if there was another room with a private bath and two beds. They pointed to another room across from ours and said a guy from Denmark lived in it. Apparently the room next to ours was empty, but we figured we would just sleep in the one room at least that night until we understood what was going on a bit more. Later, we find out Emma is sleeping in the other room. Our British roommate, Helen, is coming in a week, so I wonder what happens to Emma at that point. Plus, why does she get a room and not the other kids? Anyway…We were confused and a tad upset, but got ready for bed. They then told us that the lights would be turned off at midnight. I figured they meant we had a curfew at midnight, which was weird, but ultimately I didn’t care. But no. They meant they turn off the generator at midnight. I didn’t know how it would feel without the AC, so I didn’t bug too much about it. But did I learn QUICKLY what that meant.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Day 1 - Stream of Conciousness Ramblings...
I couldn't fall asleep last night and realized I haven't had a space to be open and think...well, that's not true, though. I wasn't being honest with myself. I haven't allowed myself a space, even though I have so many places to turn for a release.
So, at some point in the middle of the night, probably closer to 2:30 am, I made a vow to get up today and write...and I also want to see if I can take a picture a day of something I am doing to just document my life at the moment.
My mom and her cousin were in town last night through the mid afternoon today, and so I wasn't able to do much with keeping my promise...but I am starting now. Right this minute. This is my first post of many daily posts...even if it's about nothing, I want to get into the habit of writing every day whether it be stream of consciousness, a summary of my day, or an analysis of the latest Red Sox victory.
For the next month, I want to check off as many boxes on my bucket list - it's not an actual bucket list, but similar.
My first email this morning came from the universe. It said:
See everyone, Elika, as a brand new challenge to fall in love.
Sneaky of me, huh?
Kiss, kiss -
The Universe
It took me a while to even understand what it was trying to say grammatically. When I finally figured out what it was trying to say, I felt a tad offended. I mean, I would agree that I should look at every single being with love...but as a challenge to fall IN love?! Maybe it's just me...but I am not looking to fall in love, and not with "everyone". And to admit that she (the universe) is trying to be sneaky, well, I NEVER!
I carried on with my morning, and waited for my mom and her cousin who were visiting to get up so we could go out to breakfast. I was hoping to get them up and out early enough to get back and watch the Espana v. Portugal World Cup game...well, that didn't really happen.
It was finally probably 11:30 am when we made it to Cafe Chloe downtown...we ordered our meals and enjoyed each others' company. In the Persian culture, there is something called "tarof" - it's when everyone fights for the bill, and when people say they're not hungry when you really would LOVE a bite to eat, etc. It often goes back and forth for a while before the other submits.
Well, this morning...there was no need. Our waiter walked up to me and handed me a business card for Chris Guimond. The name did not sound familiar to me at all. I looked curiously at the waiter, and he informed us that this nice gentleman took care of our bill. I asked the waiter to point him out to me, but he said he already left, but was the gentleman who sat at the table right next to us - except we were on the patio, and he had been sitting right on the other side of the window. All I remember of this guy was that he had a MacBook with him and he was getting work done...my mom had also pointed out his delicious-looking lox and baguette breakfast. That's pretty much all any of us had noticed.
Well, shoot. I may have had guys try to buy me drinks at bars - and I am pretty sure I have always declined those. However, first meal bought by a random guy while I was with two older ladies?! FIRST TIME!! Winner, winner, chicken dinner! Well, not really a chicken dinner. More like a piperade and eggs breakfast.
Anyway, random guy buying you a meal? Check.
Before he even did that, I took a picture while at Cafe Chloe as my first daily picture.
I love when things tie in. There are no coincidences, right? After looking him up (I have yet to email a thank you), I thought maybe he would like to finance the Backpacks for the Homeless nonprofit, or help create an anti-plastic movement...or I don't know! SOMETHING.
Anyway, I kept my promise. I wrote. I wrote about my day and what was on my mind. On to tomorrow.
By the way, if you haven't been to Cask Room, you should really check it out. :) Great wine and small dishes (especially on happy hour, like right now)...AND WiFi.
Yes, please. :)
So, at some point in the middle of the night, probably closer to 2:30 am, I made a vow to get up today and write...and I also want to see if I can take a picture a day of something I am doing to just document my life at the moment.
My mom and her cousin were in town last night through the mid afternoon today, and so I wasn't able to do much with keeping my promise...but I am starting now. Right this minute. This is my first post of many daily posts...even if it's about nothing, I want to get into the habit of writing every day whether it be stream of consciousness, a summary of my day, or an analysis of the latest Red Sox victory.
For the next month, I want to check off as many boxes on my bucket list - it's not an actual bucket list, but similar.
My first email this morning came from the universe. It said:
See everyone, Elika, as a brand new challenge to fall in love.
Sneaky of me, huh?
Kiss, kiss -
The Universe
It took me a while to even understand what it was trying to say grammatically. When I finally figured out what it was trying to say, I felt a tad offended. I mean, I would agree that I should look at every single being with love...but as a challenge to fall IN love?! Maybe it's just me...but I am not looking to fall in love, and not with "everyone". And to admit that she (the universe) is trying to be sneaky, well, I NEVER!
I carried on with my morning, and waited for my mom and her cousin who were visiting to get up so we could go out to breakfast. I was hoping to get them up and out early enough to get back and watch the Espana v. Portugal World Cup game...well, that didn't really happen.
It was finally probably 11:30 am when we made it to Cafe Chloe downtown...we ordered our meals and enjoyed each others' company. In the Persian culture, there is something called "tarof" - it's when everyone fights for the bill, and when people say they're not hungry when you really would LOVE a bite to eat, etc. It often goes back and forth for a while before the other submits.
Well, this morning...there was no need. Our waiter walked up to me and handed me a business card for Chris Guimond. The name did not sound familiar to me at all. I looked curiously at the waiter, and he informed us that this nice gentleman took care of our bill. I asked the waiter to point him out to me, but he said he already left, but was the gentleman who sat at the table right next to us - except we were on the patio, and he had been sitting right on the other side of the window. All I remember of this guy was that he had a MacBook with him and he was getting work done...my mom had also pointed out his delicious-looking lox and baguette breakfast. That's pretty much all any of us had noticed.
Well, shoot. I may have had guys try to buy me drinks at bars - and I am pretty sure I have always declined those. However, first meal bought by a random guy while I was with two older ladies?! FIRST TIME!! Winner, winner, chicken dinner! Well, not really a chicken dinner. More like a piperade and eggs breakfast.
Anyway, random guy buying you a meal? Check.
Before he even did that, I took a picture while at Cafe Chloe as my first daily picture.
I love when things tie in. There are no coincidences, right? After looking him up (I have yet to email a thank you), I thought maybe he would like to finance the Backpacks for the Homeless nonprofit, or help create an anti-plastic movement...or I don't know! SOMETHING.
Anyway, I kept my promise. I wrote. I wrote about my day and what was on my mind. On to tomorrow.
By the way, if you haven't been to Cask Room, you should really check it out. :) Great wine and small dishes (especially on happy hour, like right now)...AND WiFi.
Yes, please. :)
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
First Thoughts: Technology Training - Gulu, Uganda 2010
What an experience. Brian and I stayed at AMREF all yesterday to plan for these all-day seminars...we thought to label the computer's start button because it may not be clear, and came up with the few programs we all should go over and train the teachers and students...So, today, the day finally came...the day we had all looked forward to, and the reason why we are here. And, of course many issues have already come up. At some point this morning, the internet stopped working altogether...so, we had to wing it. Since I was in charge of showing how social networking could be utilized in the classroom and our daily lives (and you need the internet for that), I am not able to do my part of the training. I have a few moments of downtime to jot down what I noticed so far...
Here are just some of my first thoughts...
1) We have overlooked comfort levels and familiarity in order to empower them...For example, we forgot we may need to show them how to even open up the laptops. When we told everyone to go ahead and open them so we can start, people stared at us blankly and struggled with it. As we thought, but not as much as we thought, most everyone had trouble with the start button, even though we had labeled it. We did not know (and we didn't expect to have to explain) how to explain "Tab", "Shift", "Caps Lock", etc., and how to use (and why) a cursor.
2) I absolutely am shocked at how little they know. Brian felt the same way...We have walked by internet cafes in town, and they supposedly have computers at some of the schools, so how is this so new to them? Is it still a matter of socioeconomic class? Is it just the difference between laptops and desktops?
3) They learn so quickly though! It really shows how a little practice can go a long way. Of course you have to want to learn, too...these individuals in here right now absolutely want to learn. Already, Dana is writing long full sentences on Word. Eric and Joseph are already using bold, italics, right alignments, etc. Joseph is actually writing a letter thanking us for this godsend of a seminar. How sweet!
4) I noticed a teacher from Crested Crane doing all the work for a student at Gulu College - so we moved the student to her own computer. So, now she is a tad behind, it seems.
5) Also, William knows all of this already, so he has been helping Nicole, Brian, and me out. BUT, he just shows the student instead of letting them try - trial and error is needed!!!
These are just a few of my first thoughts and observations...However, this IS the first day. Let's see how the rest of this time works out! :)
Here are just some of my first thoughts...
1) We have overlooked comfort levels and familiarity in order to empower them...For example, we forgot we may need to show them how to even open up the laptops. When we told everyone to go ahead and open them so we can start, people stared at us blankly and struggled with it. As we thought, but not as much as we thought, most everyone had trouble with the start button, even though we had labeled it. We did not know (and we didn't expect to have to explain) how to explain "Tab", "Shift", "Caps Lock", etc., and how to use (and why) a cursor.
2) I absolutely am shocked at how little they know. Brian felt the same way...We have walked by internet cafes in town, and they supposedly have computers at some of the schools, so how is this so new to them? Is it still a matter of socioeconomic class? Is it just the difference between laptops and desktops?
3) They learn so quickly though! It really shows how a little practice can go a long way. Of course you have to want to learn, too...these individuals in here right now absolutely want to learn. Already, Dana is writing long full sentences on Word. Eric and Joseph are already using bold, italics, right alignments, etc. Joseph is actually writing a letter thanking us for this godsend of a seminar. How sweet!
4) I noticed a teacher from Crested Crane doing all the work for a student at Gulu College - so we moved the student to her own computer. So, now she is a tad behind, it seems.
5) Also, William knows all of this already, so he has been helping Nicole, Brian, and me out. BUT, he just shows the student instead of letting them try - trial and error is needed!!!
These are just a few of my first thoughts and observations...However, this IS the first day. Let's see how the rest of this time works out! :)
Saturday, May 8, 2010
Family...
I haven’t been back to Paris in 13 years or so, and haven’t seen my dad’s older brother for approximately 10. The last time I saw him, he was visiting my parents in Los Angeles, and I believe I saw him for a day of his two-week trip.
One of the reasons I had no interest in coming to visit Paris was because I didn’t like being told what to do (well, I still don’t, but…). That sounds weird, but every time I came to Paris, I wouldn’t get the chance to relax and walk around the city on my own (given I was 16 or 17 the last time I was here). We had to have every meal at my uncle’s house; we had to stay where he said; we had to wake up when he said; we had to sightsee where he said; etc. Looking back now, it really wasn’t so bad. I don’t know what I really wanted or expected. And…it’s a pretty lame reason not to ever come back and visit my entire dad’s side of the family, including all my cousins who are my age. When the opportunity arose this time, as much as I wanted to spend time with my parents in Paris (the only way I had a chance in hell to be comfortable here), I really wanted to see my cousins and uncles, especially my dad’s oldest brother. My dad is very close to him, and literally worships the ground he walks on. It’s more than I have ever seen. I mean, I love my brother…more than anything on earth. But, I also know my brother is human and makes mistakes. And I love him for all his flaws…I always will. However, you cannot say anything without my dad jumping to my uncle’s defense. Tonight, I told my dad that he looking.” He said this in the most respectful way, and with such honor. It was absolutely adorable. Now, as good-looking as either of them could ever be, my dad’s oldest brother is in his mid-70s. Adorable starts to change meaning.
I actually forgot how much I wanted to see my uncle until the moment I saw him and realized how much he aged. So much. He was still tall, but hunched over. Still chiseled, but with many more wrinkles. Still strong, but much weaker. Still authoritative, but with much less intensity than before. Still strict, but with more love. It brought tears to my eyes. The minute I saw made me so happy to be here, in Paris, with him. It made all my discomfort and fears go away. I was never as close to him as one of my dad’s younger brothers. But it made me want to get to know him so badly. It made me want to appreciate every time he got under my skin, and every time I wanted to walk away because I felt controlled. I felt appreciative that I had this man in my life who could make me feel…anything. Whatever it was. I am happy to have him be him. Controlling, bull-headed, and all.
At dinner tonight, my dad’s younger brother brought up how he would have done so many things differently if he could start over. He even said that he took all the blame for his mistakes and any unhappiness he may have in life. My dad’s older brother immediately became “dad” and lectured him on how he had a great life, had all the opportunities in the world, and that he should stop complaining. It hadn’t even been a complaint; more, a confession of sorts amongst the closest to him. I could see my dad’s younger brother get a little hurt that he wasn’t being heard – a 60-year old grown man. I could see him decide to stop talking and just take what was being said. After so many years, why try to change anyone? What’s the point? Is it even our place?
It’s times like these that I remember how important family is. Friends and lovers come and go, but family is there…even when you haven’t kept in touch, talked, or seen each other in years. There is something that connects you forever…even when you don’t think of them.
Today, I feel beyond blessed and grateful.
On my way to Paris...
I seem to always find myself in uncomfortable positions. I can’t blame anyone but myself, really. Maybe uncomfortable isn’t the most mainstream word for the situations I am thinking about. I mean that I seem to be always pushing the limits of my comfort zone. As I write this, I realize what an absolutely privileged life I have lived and continue to live to this very moment. I am sitting here in my uncle’s medical clinic turned apartment-for-the-week in Paris. No, not Perris Valley, California, but the Paris the whole world seems to know and love. However, of all places in the world I could really imagine being most uncomfortable, this is it…I mean, I am sure there could be other places if I really thought about it. But, it’s midnight, and I don’t feel like thinking about miserable places before I put my head on my pillow in a strange place.
Anyway…we all have our stories, and I definitely have the one I hold onto regarding why Paris sucks.
However, this time around, it hasn’t really been so bad. I will admit, I haven’t really been out much, 1) because it is freezing (remember, I am from California, and this 16 degrees Celsius is bone-chilling to me), 2) I have been spending quality time with family who I have not seen in over 12 years, and 3) on the first real day in Paris, I slept until 6:30 pm because I was SO jetlagged (well, and because I haven’t been able to fall asleep before 6 am on either night – I am hoping tonight is the night.)
Nonetheless, it has been a fun adventure so far.
On the flight here, thankfully, we were nonstop from LAX to Charles de Gaulle. I had come straight from a friend’s 30th birthday party in mini-wine country, Paso Robles, and got back to Los Angeles literally an hour before my family left for the airport. Our flight departed at 6:45 pm, so I figured, by the time we were served dinner (and I swore on everything holy that if I didn’t get my vegetarian meal this time……..), I could pass out at a reasonable hour for my night of sleep. Turns out, I slept for approximately 8 of the 11 hour flight. Obviously, I was in and out of sleep. But, it was perfect. After I was served my boring vegetarian pasta, I put on my Ipod and immediately looked for Thievery Corporation. I couldn’t think of anything I wanted to listen to more…I don’t think I got past the first track, which happened to be Lebanese Blonde, before I was completely in flight heaven. I woke up at one point to one of the funniest things I have ever seen my dad do…and trust me, there are many. My mother, father, and I were on the left side of the plane, with me by the window. Before we even took off, my mom kept looking for empty rows “for my dad”. She said she wanted him to lie down and be comfortable since he has a bad back. I know she adores the man, but I also know how loudly he snores and I figured she’d be happy if either of them took it. Alas, there were no empty rows, but the lady right next to us (and right by my dad), had the entire middle row to herself. The three of us gave her the stank eye from the moment we sat down. So…when I woke up at some point in the night, this, I’m sure, nice lady was laying across the four seats in the middle sound asleep with her sleeping blindfold on. For some reason, no one had picked up her tray. I will readily admit I was half-asleep at the moment, and this may be a crazy dream, although I would bet my unborn puppy that this happened, but my dad reached over and grabbed her bread roll!!! I will also admit that I had a different bread roll on the vegetarian tray than on the animal-eater tray, but I don’t remember the roll being all that great. He must have been seriously hungry to grab for it. I remember falling back asleep with a sly grin, half giggling to myself because my dad makes me happy and half because I was mortified. The next time I remember waking up, my mom was complaining loudly, since she had her headphones in, that Love Actually wasn’t really a family movie and it had no depth. I think I looked over at her screen, wait no, my screen, because her screen didn’t work, and it was the scene where one of the to-be couples meet on stage of a soft porn, and the actress is pretending to give head. Again, the sly grin and half giggle came back. Both laughing with/at my mom, and half mortified that of all times to wake up, why did I have to wake up to that scene?! The third time I remember waking up, my parents were speaking, again very loudly, to one another about how two of the guys sitting behind us and to my dad's right were definitely the undercover marshals. I think I sleepily asked why he thought/knew that, and his reasoning was because the flight crew seemed very buddy-buddy with them, so they must be. The guys were maybe my age, or even a little younger. One was black, the other white. The black guy seemed pretty normal, but the white guy had a beret-looking hat on, and kept smiling at me later when I went to the restroom. He was probably laughing at me considering he, without a doubt, saw my dad gank his neighbor’s bread.
I went back to sleep until my ridiculously boring breakfast of fruit, bread, and butter was served. Since I haven’t been drinking coffee, I even tried to spice up my breakfast with a decaf café and a tea. I guess it woke me up enough to not go to bed for the next two nights. I did fall asleep in the taxi again though. I think the reason I haven’t fallen asleep at night, so far, is because of the horrendous sound coming out of my dad. The first night, we were all asleep in the living room. Good lord almighty. I cannot comprehend how he doesn’t wake up with the hoarsest of throats every morning of his life. My mom and I even got up and went to the kitchen to have a full on conversation about life at 3 am…and he had the nerve to tell us to go back to sleep. BACK TO SLEEP?! Had I fallen asleep for even a minute, I would have gladly gone back to sleep. So, that night, I planned out the rest of my life, thought about some projects I am interested in working on, traced and retraced the steps I wanted to take going through the city the next day, etc. I did not fall asleep until he pretty much woke up the next morning at 7 am…and woke up at 6:30 pm. Just in time for dinner at my uncle’s. J
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
I'm the chaufa to his chicharron...
Well, hello, my lil' chechua...
How is my chicharron doing today?
Aw! That's so tacu tacu!!
Yes, since I have arrived here in Peru, I have become fluent in my own version of Peruvian Spanish. I seem to take words for foods and make them adjectives and verbs all the time. The locals seem to understand what I am saying, even when I don't have a clue what I am talking about...
I still don't think chechua is an actual word, but I called Nicole "my lil' chechua" this morning at breakfast. She didn't respond with the huge smile I expected, and seemed a bit more confused than anything. Hmm...
As my traveling buddy and I walked around Arequipa on Tuesday, checking out the European-styled cobble-stoned alleys, we agreed "chicharron" was one of the coolest words ever invented in ANY language. Those Latinos really know how to share what's on their minds...even if "chicharron" really only means "fried" (well, fried porkskin). He was my lil chicharron, and I was his chaufa (fried rice). I decided Nicole was my chechua because she was a little "chick"...thus, chechua naturally. Actually, she is more like my chiquita...that must be where they got the name of those bananas.
As we sat in the Plaza de Armas enjoying our drinks (notice a trend?!), our food terms synthesized into our sentences so much more fluidly.
I would absolutely recommend visiting Arequipa one day...the town itself is quaint and very similar to a European small town; however, the people there were very kind. We met a police officer lady who walked us to the Plaza from our hotel only because we asked her to point us in the right direction. Acts like this typically come with a request of some type of payment, but she just left us with a smile and questions to ponder, like why DID we choose to come out to Peru for our vacation?
When we got in the night before, and decided to see the town by moonlight, we could tell we would like it in daylight, but we did notice many drunk individuals walking around. We thought maybe it was a hot spot for Easter vacation...but I don't think so. I would rather hit the beaches here, I would think, than hang out on romantic alleys with my boys. ;) Nonetheless, the daytime definitely sold me better.
And to answer the policelady's question: what we are realizing is that Peru has a bit of everything - the mountains, sea, desert, jungle, Andean music, surf, hot salsa, pisco sours, ancient ruins, excellent cebiche, indigenous villagers, and cityfolk....and never forget the chicharrons and chaufas. ;)
O2 = Necessity
Whomever said oxygen was not vital to life, was an absolute idiot. As our bus ascended to 3,800 meters (that's 12,500 feet for you Americans who don't know how to use the metric system...that includes me, don't worry), I started to feel as though there was some sick joke being played on me. Was there a ghost from the Incan past pressing down against my chest ensuring I couldn't even gasp for air?! Ok, fine, I am being a little dramatic, but not by much. As we hiked up hill, I started to understand what claustrophobia feels like. I felt like I was trapped in a box (bus) and my air was running out. Even as I sit here in Puno writing this, I definitely don't feel totally well. I won't lie...I was excited to have an excuse to drink an exorbitant amount of the coca tea since it supposedly helps you acclimate to the altitude. But besides that plus, this whole not breathing thing, ain't no fun.
I am suddenly understanding the lame trend of oxygen bars back home. So, who cares if we may not need as much fresh oxygen there as I do RIGHT HERE, RIGHT NOW (that was a good song by the way)? I finally get it.
Have I mentioned that the lack of oxygen makes me feel a tad loopy?
Thankfully, we will be heading downhill for the next leg...which I hear means I will be on a natural high...ooh, that means Lima is going to be a GREAT time at the end of the week. Not many people can say they go downhill to Cusco, but when you visit the highest navigable lake on the planet prior to going to the Incan capital, you end up in some unique circumstances.
Lake Titicaca, here I come!!!
Ha, I said titi-caca. :)
Cast Away
Now, I understand that American films don’t always make it out to the “outside” world right away. I usually find it pretty heart-warming when I see an old favorite back out in the theatres when I travel abroad. However, “Cast Away” was a movie that should never have been brought back to anyone’s world.
As I was trying to rest on my five-hour bus ride from Arequipa to Puno, I started feeling very fortunate to be on this bus with seats that fit my entire body, had a cushioned footrest, and would recline pretty much the entire way. After my traveling partner grabbed us a can of Pringles and a couple Sprites for our journey, and we read a few pages of Rolf Potts’ Vagabonding, I decided it was dark enough to nap. We were supposed to be on the road before 5:30, and we didn’t leave until close to 6. So, with the sun setting behind us as we drove East, I figured it would be the perfect time to put on DJ Shadow on my Ipod, and relax.
It hadn’t been ten minutes that I closed my eyes before the bus’ tv monitors turned on and the personal speakers above me for my seat (how kind of them) started blaring. I am not just saying they were loud. They were louder than any human would want them…and approximately a foot above my head. I figured turning my Ipod volume up would suffice, but I couldn’t even decipher what song was on anymore.
For a minute, I thought I would go along with what the locals were doing and watch whatever movie was about to start. However, I feel like we are all being insulted by putting on Cast Away!!!
Before the movie had really even started, I started dreaming about how I would rather actually be a cast away...in Antartica...or wasn't Russia just bombed...or isn't the Palestinian/Israeli border not the best place to visit? ANYWHERE! I would rather do anything but be forced to watch this movie. Ok, fine. I was not forced to WATCH it, but I absolutely was forced to listen to it…and in Spanish nonetheless. A three-hour movie about Tom Hanks talking to himself for 90% of it, and his volleyball best friend, Wilson, for the other 30%. Or something. Look, math was never my strength... ;) I mean Tom Hanks literally cried for a good ten minutes apologizing (to whom?!?) for losing Wilson in the deep blue ocean. Growl.
So, now I have to think to relax and watch a movie. Not in the mood.
Earlier, I thought how good an idea it was to take a bus knowing it would take five hours. It would force us to sit back and relax instead of walk around to see all the sites…although “seeing the sites” often includes sitting at various cafes sipping on a glass of some tasty cold libation – be it a pisco sour, glass of white wine, or cerveza. Nonetheless, my idea of lounging back and relaxing for a few hours was shot.
The most interesting thing actually, is that no matter how awfully loud the movie was, I could still hear an older man snoring his brains out in the front of the bus…given, there were only four aisles on our “First Class” main floor (since we can all recline our seats), but still. Pretty remarkable.
Someone, PLEASE cast me away from this place!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
