tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-89425647290698890582024-03-13T07:19:46.880-07:00Alaska to Africa (and beyond...)October of 2009 I head to Mozambique to teach English with Peace Corps. Here are some stories from my journeyATrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03672198821800999083noreply@blogger.comBlogger286125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8942564729069889058.post-85594313901874572662013-11-07T00:32:00.002-08:002013-11-07T00:32:50.848-08:00Baby on Board<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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So, this happened a few weeks ago but I’ve been busy. And I need to share…</div>
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I was in a rickshaw on my way to work when we pulled to a stop at an
intersection. A few feet to my left,
sitting on the curb were a few women, a few babies, and several cows. People (and cows) are always at this corner,
so I typically smile and head-bobble.
This morning, however, after my smile, I received a visitor at the rickshaw. A woman walked up, showed me her two month
old baby, and handed her to me. Let me
at this moment remind you I am in a temporarily stopped vehicle. So, I take the baby, smile, kiss her
forehead, and try to give her back, but her mom walks away. That’s when my oblivious-to-the-situation
driver (or driver-who-was-trying-to-alarm-the-white-girl) drives off. We take a left at the intersection as I’m
screaming “BUS BUS BUS BUS BUS BUS!!!” (STOP!) Thankfully we hadn’t gone more
and a few yards before we stopped, he laughed, I got out, identified the baby’s
mother, and gave her back. This whole
ordeal didn’t last for more than 30 seconds, maybe less, but I really thought
for a moment there I was going to unwillingly adopt an infant. Thankfully that was not the final outcome <span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span> </div>
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ATrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03672198821800999083noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8942564729069889058.post-59646318358202969582013-10-22T20:24:00.003-07:002013-10-22T20:24:57.703-07:00A few clarifications<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
In a few recent blogs, I have referred to an NGO which I am volunteering for. The NGO is Swades Foundation <a href="http://www.swadesfoundation.org/">http://www.swadesfoundation.org/</a> <br />
The women in the community whom I called "health care team" (women dressed in pink saris) are in fact SwaRakshaMitra (community health workers).<br />
And the "influential women" in the photo were women from various Self Help Groups around the area.</div>
ATrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03672198821800999083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8942564729069889058.post-68804876505061645962013-10-21T03:42:00.001-07:002013-10-21T03:42:48.645-07:00Let's talk about poop...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">So many
people in Mumbai are living without basic conditions, like a bathroom. So every morning, people take to the streets/
train tracks/ ocean front/ allies for their morning deuce (I’m sure I’ve talked
about this before- it’s quite alarming to all the senses). Men and children are welcome to complete this
act at any time of the day. I have
driven through town and seen lines of men and kids not 10 feet from the cars
driving by, doing their business. Every
morning on my run down at the “ocean” (really I don’t know what to call it
because it’s not the image you’re thinking of when I say ocean) I see upwards
of 30 men squatting out there (I’ve thought of taking a picture to share but that
feels more than weird). Women however are restricted to the hours of the night
where they will not be seen by the men. There
is no such thing as privacy here. Everyone
knows your business, and your “business”.
(“Are you ok lately, Jain? I’ve noticed you’re a little loose in the
morning…”). I’m not sure how it works
for other large cities in the world without decent infrastructure. Maybe there are public toilets that are
maintained by the government, I don’t know.
In rural areas, you dig a hole and bury your “business”. In a city with +20 million people, the space
does not exist. So, you take all the
thousands of pounds of waste from us humans, plus from the thousands of stray
dogs, and from the cows, and scatter them throughout the city. You cannot walk outside without being bombarded
by the smell, (it doesn’t help that Mumbai is an extremely humid city). There are certain areas of town worse than
others (by the slums, typically, which seem to be everywhere), but without
fail, you will notice it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">But I’ll
be honest. Even with all the mess and smell, this city has its charm. Yes, while you’re here, I’m sure you’ll see
more than you imagined and your ideas of “privacy” and “socially acceptable”
will forever be changed. But you will
leave with a huge appreciation of where you come from; the privileges you have
and may take for granted, the idea of “alone time”, and the smell of fresh air.
Mumbai will change you, whether you want it to or not.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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ATrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03672198821800999083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8942564729069889058.post-70387245363913249042013-10-21T03:38:00.001-07:002013-10-21T03:38:16.160-07:00Trash<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">India,
like most of the world, has a problem with waste disposal. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Many
cities and countries throughout the world have been able to cover their trash,
keep it out of sight, keep it from bombarding our senses. India, or more specifically Mumbai, has not
had this success. You cannot walk down
any street, ride in any vehicle, or visit any facility without this
bombardment. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">So a
little geography; Mumbai city is only 26 square miles (169 square miles including
the suburban areas). It is a harbor
city, basically unable to expand horizontally so it expands upward, on top of
itself. There are more than 20.5 million
people living here, the majority packed onto those tiny 26 square miles (close
to 14 million people). The average
humane generates 4.3 pounds of waste per day.
Multiply that by the 20 million inhabitants of Mumbai, and you get
39,000 tonnes of waste per day. However,
a recent article puts Mumbai as generating 15,050 tonnes of solid waste per day,
so let’s just stick with that number- 15,050 tonnes of waste per day. And where does it go!?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">As I’ve written
before, human waste is not pumped underground like we would expect/like. People without toilets use the train tracks/
ocean/ streets for their daily droppings.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Mahim
creek runs through the city and empties into Mahim bay. You cannot get close to this creek (15 feet
deep and a dozen yards wide) without the horrible smell coming upon you, forcing
a gag reflex. Yet this is where many of
the slum communities have been established, on the banks of this creek.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">There
are several landfills in the Mumbai area, but the oldest and largest is Deonar,
located just barely outside of the city.
The smell reaches miles in every direction and it is so impressive it
can knock you down. This is where the
majority of the waste from Mumbai city ends up- thousands of tonnes per
day. This is also where many people,
men, women and children, are living and working, digging through the trash to
try and make money. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">The name
given to these people is a “ragpicker”.
They literally live amongst our waste, sifting through it in search of
something they can sell. Many levels of
ragpickers exist in Mumbai, from people sifting through street garbage to
garbage collection pickers to landfill pickers, but to me, those living in the
landfill are the most devastating. Small
children are born and raised in this environment. They don’t attend school but instead spend
their days (and nights) digging through hazardous waste and sharp objects that
can be extremely harmful to their health (not to mention mentally unsettling)
in an attempt to feed themselves and their families. I can only imagine people living under these
conditions understand the health risks they subject themselves to every day. But maybe not to the extent the more educated
population does- the implications on future health problems, the high risk of
cholera or dysentery, respiratory problems, risk of infection… The list goes on
and on.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">It’s
just alarming the severity of this problem.
It makes me sick to think the conditions in which many people in this
city live. It wrenches my heart knowing
that life as a ragpicker is more profitable than many other jobs. Or the only job opportunity someone may have.
I guess what I’m trying to say is I’m thankfully
to be working towards proper waste disposal in rural India, hopefully building
awareness about the harm of these landfills.
Hopefully, in the long run, reducing the mass quantities of waste,
lowering the number of ragpickers. It’s
possible (Oslo, Norway produced 150 tonnes of waste PER YEAR!) but it’s got to
start somewhere…</span></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ydD8PiwPOlM/UmUDkCF5SVI/AAAAAAAACE4/27YjQFoUzG8/s1600/ragpicker2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="411" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ydD8PiwPOlM/UmUDkCF5SVI/AAAAAAAACE4/27YjQFoUzG8/s640/ragpicker2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-npoxDHPinfQ/UmUDkC0oxKI/AAAAAAAACEs/UPuI2cGwePE/s1600/ragpicker.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="392" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-npoxDHPinfQ/UmUDkC0oxKI/AAAAAAAACEs/UPuI2cGwePE/s640/ragpicker.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WF1oqbM9lVc/UmUDkXoAWnI/AAAAAAAACEw/Do3-iN69Wr8/s1600/ragpickerkids.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="488" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WF1oqbM9lVc/UmUDkXoAWnI/AAAAAAAACEw/Do3-iN69Wr8/s640/ragpickerkids.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ENgC8xQ2-Z0/UmUDlBOm7uI/AAAAAAAACFE/r1XL3-hF02s/s1600/trash+child.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="342" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ENgC8xQ2-Z0/UmUDlBOm7uI/AAAAAAAACFE/r1XL3-hF02s/s640/trash+child.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Lsr_LNX9Egg/UmUDlheb-wI/AAAAAAAACFI/ZzxQ5HzJp5c/s1600/trash.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="368" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Lsr_LNX9Egg/UmUDlheb-wI/AAAAAAAACFI/ZzxQ5HzJp5c/s640/trash.gif" width="640" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Outside my building- every day</td></tr>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
ATrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03672198821800999083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8942564729069889058.post-37509389924319851062013-10-19T22:10:00.000-07:002013-10-21T00:34:58.979-07:00Part two of my site visit<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Day two of being in the rural villages has been just as
wonderful as day one. It’s been packed
full of new people and exciting possibilities for my work. This blog is going to seem super choppy and
scatterbrained but stick with me- hopefully you’ll see what I did…</div>
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This morning started pretty calm- we left the hotel and
headed to meet Vijay, a member of the Social Work team who will become my Go-To
guy while working in the villages. Vijay
works with dozens of villages, helping bring them clean water, supporting
agriculture practices, training health care workers, and overall being a
positive light of change for these communities.
So, we met up and headed for a surprise visit to one of his
villages. The drive out was spectacular!
I tried to take a few photos but a camera cannot do this place justice. It’s mountainous with valleys of rich green
trees and tiny clusters of hidden houses.
The roads are terrible, broken and narrow with the occasional cow or
group of students walking along, but of course there is little chance for
repair from the government, being so far out in the middle of nowhere. Anyways, we arrived in the first village and
Vijay took me into town to meet several community members and see the projects they
have done. With two other young men,
Vijay took me around, out to their water storage area (reservoirs they have
built), into homes to see their smokeless chulas (stoves), into gardens, and
into a cattle room. We sat on a porch, drinking
tea and talking with the secretary of the water project (he couldn’t have been
older than 22years old) and the expert farmer who works with cashew tree grafting. At one point, someone walked up and asked, “Is
there a meeting today? Did I miss something?”
The community (all 24 households) gets together once a month to talk
about what’s going on in the village and what they want to work towards. Having a foreigner there made people think
there was a meeting, that maybe they had miscalculated what day it was. I was so impressed with what I saw, how the men
and women were working together to make it a more beautiful and comfortable
place. Next we stopped by the school on
our way to the next village. There are a
total of 11 students in the whole 1<sup>st</sup> to 4<sup>th</sup> grade school,
and they are so darn cute!!! There are two teachers, one of whom speaks
English, so we were able to chat a bit. The
kids were quite skeptical of me, but as we were leaving I was able to get
photos with them, and they sang me a song, in English, showing their gratitude
for having me visit. I don’t have a
video now but next time I visit I will make sure to record it. So darn CUTE!!!</div>
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Our next stop was another set of two small villages down in
the valley. We could see it from where we were, but without direct roads, it
took us about 30 minutes to get there.
Upon (surprise) arrival, the elected town official met us to show me
around. She was lovely! (and a woman!
The police chief of this area is also a woman!)
She walked us through town,
pointing out that each family is preparing their front yard area for rice
harvest. Each year after monsoon, each
family packs their yard with dirt, covers it with cow manure, and then places
the rice stalks to dry in the sun. Without
the use of any machines, this process is quite time and labor intensive. I was happy to see everyone, men and women,
working together to get it all done. As
we walked, more community officials joined us to help explain projects. I could see their sense of pride in what they
were doing in the village. We stopped at
their temple, a Buddhist temple where they hold their monthly meetings. Just behind it is their large farming area, which
I was informed is important for the town, yet at night wild boars come in and
destroy crops, so they are struggling to gain too much profit from their
crops. As we started to walk back, one
of the men with us presented each of us (Vijay, Nicola, and myself) with
flowers from their horticulture project. They then proceeded to pick vegetables from
their crop as a gift for me. I didn’t have
a bag for it all, so I tied my capulana into a makeshift purse, surprising everyone
with my resourcefulness. Yay me! </div>
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So, at this point we had to leave and head to our next
meeting. In a larger town, we met with a
young Indian woman who has started an NGO working towards waste
management. She has a plan to work with
the small villages, collecting dry and wet waste, processing it (minimally) and
then selling it for a small profit. As waste
management is part of my idea to becoming eco-friendly communities, we were
able to talk details in how we may be able to partner- I bring the education
and motivation to the communities while she takes away the trash. It was wonderful to meet a girl, whose
background is chemical engineering, who gave up her professional career to
start this project in the middle of nowhere.
She sees the importance of stopping the waste problem before it’s a
bigger issue, starting rural and building knowledge from the ground up. </div>
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After meeting with her, it was time to head back to the
city. We ate lunch (the most amazing Veg
dish I think I’ve ever had- I ate so much I was getting comments from the wait
staff) and then made the 4+ hour journey back.
The drive is just stunning, so green and fresh with the occasional
monkey sightings. As we got closer to
the city, the air got a bit heavier, things weren’t quite as lush, and more and
more skyscrapers filled the horizon. As
we finally entered Mumbai, we drove past the part of town where waste is
dumped. The smell lingers for miles on
either side, a smell of sour food, human waste, and devastation. I was reminded of why waste management is so
important and why it is an enormous problem facing this country. (entire blog entry to follow on this topic)</div>
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I finally made it home around 830pm, still flying high from
my experience. I can’t wait to get back
out to the fresh air and fresh minds, to learn about these unique and beautiful
communities, to talk about ways to improve the lives of those I’ve met and
those I hope to meet, and to give everything I have to empowering and enriching
the lives of the generous and inspiring people of rural India.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BQBjkmYsAsk/UmS5Jwee9hI/AAAAAAAACDE/ghMPCGYbfqc/s1600/DSCN3446.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BQBjkmYsAsk/UmS5Jwee9hI/AAAAAAAACDE/ghMPCGYbfqc/s640/DSCN3446.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View from the drive</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">School</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rTTTPqFAAX8/UmS5WOgQYMI/AAAAAAAACDc/Eh1jAak-R1w/s1600/DSCN3463.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rTTTPqFAAX8/UmS5WOgQYMI/AAAAAAAACDc/Eh1jAak-R1w/s640/DSCN3463.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Preparing for rice harvesting</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vq8z_KNBpkI/UmS5arTqB3I/AAAAAAAACDk/2PQ1zXWsodo/s1600/DSCN3465.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vq8z_KNBpkI/UmS5arTqB3I/AAAAAAAACDk/2PQ1zXWsodo/s640/DSCN3465.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Waste management</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_KgymIXDxt0/UmS5kXtCG6I/AAAAAAAACDs/0XKeqgw46_w/s1600/DSCN3592.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_KgymIXDxt0/UmS5kXtCG6I/AAAAAAAACDs/0XKeqgw46_w/s640/DSCN3592.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Water project</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XzqhZnN3ycg/UmS5rmTCcvI/AAAAAAAACD0/kdGdM7WZh50/s1600/DSCN3600.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XzqhZnN3ycg/UmS5rmTCcvI/AAAAAAAACD0/kdGdM7WZh50/s640/DSCN3600.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After showing me around their homes</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yRUjWppFikU/UmS50iUJGtI/AAAAAAAACD8/3nZlHpoRFUU/s1600/DSCN3611.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yRUjWppFikU/UmS50iUJGtI/AAAAAAAACD8/3nZlHpoRFUU/s640/DSCN3611.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I got them to say "CHEEEEEEEEESE"</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QKVxhNMZ8mM/UmS56ijzDpI/AAAAAAAACEE/7MKfZT7ZpyE/s1600/DSCN3620.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QKVxhNMZ8mM/UmS56ijzDpI/AAAAAAAACEE/7MKfZT7ZpyE/s640/DSCN3620.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Preparing for harvest</td></tr>
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<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-V91Pj6YSBfA/UmS6DVzA9DI/AAAAAAAACEM/EieLCsuhRFk/s1600/DSCN3624.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-V91Pj6YSBfA/UmS6DVzA9DI/AAAAAAAACEM/EieLCsuhRFk/s640/DSCN3624.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Community leaders</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jX693NTtRNY/UmS6IckeZbI/AAAAAAAACEU/B6zU75rWbRk/s1600/DSCN3653.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jX693NTtRNY/UmS6IckeZbI/AAAAAAAACEU/B6zU75rWbRk/s640/DSCN3653.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Always prepared And thanks for the snacks!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nGPysbIf6_Y/UmS6LLthQrI/AAAAAAAACEc/Tow09TF-yjg/s1600/DSCN3655.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nGPysbIf6_Y/UmS6LLthQrI/AAAAAAAACEc/Tow09TF-yjg/s640/DSCN3655.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Waste management vehicle </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
ATrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03672198821800999083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8942564729069889058.post-39306869234702609072013-10-18T21:07:00.000-07:002013-10-22T20:36:43.895-07:00India becomes Moz in my mind<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
Feels like I’m back in Mozambique. I’ve been in India on and off for the past 10
months, and it wasn’t until today that I legitimately felt like I was back in
my/a friend’s village of Moz. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A little back story- I’m doing some volunteer work for an
NGO (*Swades Foundation) in Mumbai that works with over 800 rural villages just south of the
city. I’m helping put together a plan to
help these communities become “Gender Sensitive”. In my mind I’ve come up with many ideas about
lesson plans and community activities and school sessions and conferences,
trainings, girls’ groups…. It wasn’t until today that I actually set foot in a
community and had a better understanding of the people and places I will be
working with.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This morning started by driving almost 5 hours outside of
Mumbai, first driving past slums, giant trash hills, children and adults taking
their morning deuce on the side of the road (literally feet from our car), immense
traffic, honking, and skyscrapers nit which slowly turned to rolling hills and
brown not-as-trash-filled rivers, and finally mountainous, green, lush terrain,
forests, long distances without seeing another car (or person or cow or monkey),
clay huts, and fresh, beautiful, clean, unpolluted air. It is such an incredible change between city
and “country” (or urban and rural), it was a pleasure to watch things change
right before me.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So, around 12:30 we arrived at our destination, a tiny
little village in the middle of nowhere where the NGO was hosting a yearly
showcase of events for the participating villages. Just over 160 people were in attendance,
representing 100 villages from the area.
As we approached from the back of the crowd, several people turned to
see me, which caused a ripple effect, and by the time I reached the front of
the space (of course they had us sitting up front) the entire group had their
eyes on me- all the women on my left and all the men on my right. But props to the woman who was speaking - man
she just kept on going! Thankfully her
topic was captivating (the importance of breastfeeding and proper nutrition for
a mother and child) so soon the attendees went back to nodding and head bobbling.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I couldn’t tell you too much about the actual sessions, as
they were conducted in Marathi, but I’m sure they were informative and well
delivered. At lunch, I sat on the floor
to eat. Men were lined up on either side
and the women along the back side. We
ate rice and some sauce without hands as we attempted to make small talk in the
limited English the few around me possessed.
A cockroach crawled onto the arm of the man next to me, who flung it off
and looked someone concernedly at me. I
laughed, he joked the cockroach had come to meet me, and I replied that was
nice but a risky move as I saw him as extra protein. The few who spoke enough English laughed
at/with me for my attempted humor in a room full of gawking strangers. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
At one point, after an expert in vermi-culture (worm
harvesting) finished his demonstration, groups of people came up to take a
picture with me or of me with their phones. After a few moments, all the women,
roughly 80, had crowded around me, smiling and inquisitive. Of course only one out of the 80 spoke
English so it was a bit awkward, but sweet.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After lunch and finishing the sessions, a social worker took
me into the village to see the projects the NGO had implemented. As we started to walk, I noticed the roughly
30 children that had congregated and started following us. They helped show me a latrine that had been
installed, the water reserve tank and how the spouts work (like any other
faucet), and even led me into a house, much to the owners surprise, to show me
the smokeless stove. As I walked, the
kids grabbed at my hands and reached up to touch me, yet when I turned they
would run away laughing and screaming. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Around 5pm we left the event and went for tea and sandwiches
with the entire social work team to discuss final details of the afternoon and
projects. And GET THIS! 2 sandwiches per
person (vada pao) and soft drinks for all 12 of us cost a total of…. 4USD. 4 dollars for 12 people. Yeah.
So, then onwards to the hotel. We
made a stop at the reading center that was being constructed. Then a stop at a home in a tiny little town
where the NGO is thinking about bringing Eco Tourism (rural tourism). They
asked my opinion- would you stay here? OF course!! Bigger than my PC house, giant
kitchen, adorable set up, quaint back yard with a porch and flowers everywhere,
and back up to the house of a local social worker who is just plain
adorable. I felt like it was the PERFECT
PCV house and community. Onward! Final
stop came to drop in on a computers teacher with the NGO, a lovely young, brilliant
girl with a hysterical and likewise brilliant uncle. By this time I’d watched a magnificent sunset
so I couldn’t see their 40achers of land or the immense garden hey had, but
from what I saw it was spectacular.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So, now I’m in the hotel room, watching some random
Bollywood film on a 32+ inch HD TV while I sit on a rock hard bed with stained
sheets and a faulty AC unit, waiting for the fried rice I ordered over an hour
ago. Seriously, besides the fact that I’m
wearing a kurta, I could be back in Moz!!
The erratic driving on horrible, narrow roads, the cows in the road, the
children following me, the picture taking and gawking, the tiny hut houses and beautiful,
quaint communities, the heat, the lack of ability to understand what’s going on
around me, the bugs, the bucket bath I’m about to take, the capulana I will
sleep on (no way I’m touching these sheets!)…. I’m back!!!! And I honestly couldn’t be happier with how
good it feels. No, I’m not living in
this environment, just here to visit.
Maybe that makes it all the sweeter experience. </div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Oh and get this- I’ve been watching a bad movie for an hour
(apparently) and a warning just came on the screen telling me to please protect
my eyesight. How considerate <span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LxNKok20kBw/UmSmEx7HGTI/AAAAAAAACCE/fYN8q4253FM/s1600/DSCN2737.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LxNKok20kBw/UmSmEx7HGTI/AAAAAAAACCE/fYN8q4253FM/s640/DSCN2737.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Group shot</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span></div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yjhhdczoDmc/UmSmI2iF7UI/AAAAAAAACCU/6Ur7kppvXuY/s1600/DSCN2828.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yjhhdczoDmc/UmSmI2iF7UI/AAAAAAAACCU/6Ur7kppvXuY/s640/DSCN2828.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Lunch</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5It38OLDGyY/UmSl7urNSTI/AAAAAAAACB8/DSRFUuZr__0/s1600/DSCN3434.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5It38OLDGyY/UmSl7urNSTI/AAAAAAAACB8/DSRFUuZr__0/s640/DSCN3434.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Me and the health care team(*SwaRakshaMitras- community health workers)</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qbxmoAIuNUk/UmSmGslbiVI/AAAAAAAACCM/aqPOLDW0WXw/s1600/DSCN3444.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qbxmoAIuNUk/UmSmGslbiVI/AAAAAAAACCM/aqPOLDW0WXw/s640/DSCN3444.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So many kids! This is only the ones brave enough to pose for a photo</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-sNfv8VigrpE/UmSmhVLSemI/AAAAAAAACCc/lZ8uc_vLqEw/s1600/DSCN0139.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-sNfv8VigrpE/UmSmhVLSemI/AAAAAAAACCc/lZ8uc_vLqEw/s640/DSCN0139.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Influential women from multiple communities (*Women from various Self Help Groups)</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PPLwqUbylpE/UmSmhdBR-2I/AAAAAAAACCg/H9MPuVZSGUg/s1600/DSCN0160.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PPLwqUbylpE/UmSmhdBR-2I/AAAAAAAACCg/H9MPuVZSGUg/s640/DSCN0160.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Learning about vermi composting- I love how colorful they dress!</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7DVwfuShDNA/UmSmjyidHvI/AAAAAAAACCs/jFBHETfO24s/s1600/DSCN0164.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7DVwfuShDNA/UmSmjyidHvI/AAAAAAAACCs/jFBHETfO24s/s640/DSCN0164.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">More Vermi</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oLelUE0-3UI/UmSmtiCJmeI/AAAAAAAACC0/wG8-BXJc1Fs/s1600/DSCN0183.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oLelUE0-3UI/UmSmtiCJmeI/AAAAAAAACC0/wG8-BXJc1Fs/s640/DSCN0183.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">A smokeless stove- SO important for health reasons!</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
ATrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03672198821800999083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8942564729069889058.post-42468365287532487212013-04-08T07:34:00.000-07:002013-04-08T07:34:00.322-07:00Beautiful Lisbon<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
My time here has been spent wandering around town and getting lost. Saturday I walked a fair amount- metro to dinner to apartment to bar to another bar to home. We got somewhat lost on our way to the bar, winding our way through the alleys, and it was quite enjoyable. The streets are narrow with cobblestone and the buildings are covered in beautiful tile work. The colors are yellow and blue and each window has a little balcony, typically with flowers on them. Yesterday my new friend and I walked for hours around town, came across outdoor markets and giant squares, did some people watching, and ate and drank delicious food. Today I´ve been on my own, getting lots through the winding streets. I had no idea how hilly the town was! My legs are going to be sore tomorrow... Lisbon is just so beautiful and calm and laid back. The people are friendly and helpful. The buildings are so colorful and well maintained. Everything is so clean and everyone is so put together. I know that´s normal, but for some reason it´s taking a little time for me to get used to. Portugal seems to be the forgotten sister of Europe, but what a wonderful place! </div>
ATrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03672198821800999083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8942564729069889058.post-88816368596742676522013-04-07T07:34:00.000-07:002013-04-08T07:36:45.860-07:00A little Mozambique!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
While walking through a mini flea market today, out of the corner of my eye I saw material I recognized. When I looked I realized it was capulana fabric, and I have a dress that matches it! I turned around and went to the stall and recognized a few other patterns. I tracked down the owner and she told me a lot of what she had came from Moz! Made me miss my old home a bit for sure.</div>
ATrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03672198821800999083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8942564729069889058.post-8028962659850815672013-04-06T06:58:00.000-07:002013-04-08T07:18:38.720-07:00Goodbye Morocco- Hello Lisbon!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
My time in Morocco was not touristy- I was there to spend time with my family and it was amazing. Although I did not travel around the country or really even make it out of Rabat, it was a relazing and very enjoyable few weeks.<br />
My trip from Morocco to Portugal was pretty painless- train ride, plane ride, metro ride. Highlight- I sat next to a Brazilian lady on the plane so I was bale to practice my Portuguese a bit )and try to block out the French) before I landed. Upon arrival in Lisbon and went straight to a Couch Surfing dinner, a monthly thing they do here. Perfect idea! It only took me just over an hour on the metro, after getting off at the wrong spot, dragging my bags up and down stairs, finally finding where I was going and toting my bag down the cobblestone streets. I felt a bit awkward about showiong up to dinner with a backpack and a suitcase but if anybody understands it´s other travelers. Dinner was fun- I was sitting with an English girl, 2 Portuguese, a Lebanese, a Uzbek, and another American. There were at least another two dozen people there from all over but our table was pretty small. After dinner, my new British friend opened her home to me, so I dragged my bag down the cobblestone streets to her place and then she and I plus the other American and a Portuguese guy all went out for drinks. The first bar we had cheap beer and talked about 80s music and the second bar was full of people playing the guitar (I do believe I was the only person in the bar that did not a one point during the evening play an instrument), singalongs, and flaming sausages (they bring you chorizo and a dish full of something on fire and you cook it at the table.) By 330am we called it a night and finally went to bed. I was surprised at how friendly everyone was, how laid back it felt, and what an amazing time I had. I´ve spent the last few weeks with some great people, but this was the first time in a while I was surrounded by people like me- mid/late 20´s, adventurous and experienced travelers, comfortable meeting new people. I look forward to what this town in store for me over the next 2 days.</div>
ATrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03672198821800999083noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8942564729069889058.post-259834316678689622013-03-11T11:02:00.000-07:002013-03-12T11:02:34.603-07:00Beer!!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
At a going away party/happy hour on Friday, I met a couple that works for Peace Corps here in Morocco. They are both RPCVs themselves and just wonderfully fun people. On Sunday, the families got together for the afternoon- kids outside playing, moms drinking wine, and dads brewing beer. I mostly stuck with the guys (and the beer). Steve has been home brewing since I've known him, but this my first time going from start to finish with him in the first phase of brewing. We made a brown nut ale, which I'm pretty excited about. Plus I was able to spend a lot of time talking about Peace Corps with our new friend. I've really missed my Peace Corps family!!! And even though this couple was in PC over 10 years ago, I still feel a connection to them. That's just how it is with PC- different generations, different countries, it doesn't matter, you're family. I'm looking forward to meeting more people in the PC community here in Morocco.</div>
ATrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03672198821800999083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8942564729069889058.post-48721802687073592932013-03-10T10:54:00.000-07:002013-03-12T10:54:56.156-07:00He deserved it<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
So I've finally started running again, now that I have running shoes and plenty of down time. I'm used to getting honked at or whistled at or whatever other clever way men try to get my attention. Today turned out to be a bit more exciting. I got two waves, a thumbs up, a honk, a drive by (drove by once, pulled a U turn, and came back around), a round-of-applause, and caused a man to crash his motorcycle. Ooooooops!! He decided to watch me rather than the road and ended up running into the curb. But don't worry, the bike was fine. Maybe I should start wearing my hair up in a hat...</div>
ATrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03672198821800999083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8942564729069889058.post-56252885175452273532013-03-04T10:34:00.000-08:002013-03-12T10:34:48.292-07:00Wii!!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Everyone is at work or
at school while I’m here at the house, but today I discovered the Wii. After an hour of boxing and another hour of
random other Wii Sports activities, I found Super Mario World. Best part of my day! Worst part of my day- developing a giant
blister on my thumb from playing too long. Totally worth it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
ATrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03672198821800999083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8942564729069889058.post-21779011263809060282013-03-03T10:38:00.000-08:002013-03-12T10:40:27.403-07:00Girls day<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Tara, Dee, Lou and I all treated ourselves to a girly day today. Started with mani-pedis (oh how the nail techs hated me! I haven't had a legit pedicure since before Peace Corps... ooops...), some delicious coffee and french pastries (pain au chocolate, thank you!), then "shopping" from a fellow ex-pat who is leaving the country. I literally doubled my wardrobe in the span of an hour! (not that I had much to start with). Once home I officially unpacked all my things and moved in. Topped off the night with delicious food and great South African wine. It was a good day.</div>
ATrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03672198821800999083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8942564729069889058.post-38525808577145499362013-03-01T10:46:00.000-08:002013-03-12T10:46:37.191-07:00Week One<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;">The
house is pretty much empty during the day- the girls at school and the parents
at work. That's left me with lots of time to read, nap, internet, nap
some more, and try to brush up on my French. The woman who works in the
house doesn't speak much English, so I've been trying to practice my French
with her, but all that ever comes out is Portuguese! I keep telling her,
"I really did speak French! I promise it will come back!" I think I'm
saying that more for my benefit than hers at this point. Regardless, I
understand everything she says just can't find the words to respond. Instead I
stand there and stammer or mumble or open my eyes real big and open my mouth,
like that will make the words come. Yeah, I'm getting a bit frustrated.
And my brain hurts. But it will come...</span></div>
</div>
ATrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03672198821800999083noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8942564729069889058.post-40536213924125284872013-02-24T10:30:00.000-08:002013-03-12T10:31:29.197-07:00Morocco<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">I made it to Morocco!
But let me rewind...</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">My last two weeks in
India were wonderful! I went back to Bombay after Udaipur and once again got
caught up in the restlessness and vivacity that is the city- the fast pace,
brilliant colors, overwhelming scents, endless restaurants, perpetual parties, and
constant entertainment. I spent some
more time at the brewery, watching everything fall into place for their grand
opening. The cooks made it their
personal mission to make sure I ate at much food as I possibly could before I
burst, each day. Lucky me I was around while they were trying out all the
potential menu items!! On my last night, The Barking Deer had their first
official tasting, so we had a table of 10 people attempting to eat everything
on the menu. I swear, they practically
had to roll me out of that place. It was amazing. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">It was hard to say
goodbye to India. I really fell in love with the country. I have no doubt that I’ll be back before too
long. Plus when I come back, The Barking
Deer will be up and running in full swing, and will finally have delicious
craft beer!!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">I left India in true
Indian fashion- a few hiccups and some frustration but help from strangers and smiles. My rickshaw driver finally admitted after ten
minutes that he didn’t know where the airport was, so I got out and finally
tracked down a cab that would take me during rush hour on a Friday. Once at the airport I was forbidden to enter
the airport due to a lack of printed ticket, so I was shuffled to another
terminal, then another. Finally I found
a man who decided I was not trying to trick anyone and he printed out my
boarding pass inside, returning it to me to allow me entrance. At security, they found something in my bag
suspect, and took about 25 minutes going through my things, in the end finding
nothing. By the time I made it to the
gate, I was the last one to board the bus, but hey, I made it! I didn’t expect anything less from India ;)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">My arrival in Morocco
was everything I could have hoped for!
Tara and Steve both met me just outside baggage claim with huge hugs. Even though I was an hour and a half late,
they waited patiently and never waned in their enthusiasm to see me. The ride from Casablanca (where I landed) to
Rabat (where they live) was full of catching up and soaking up my first views of
Morocco. It was so much greener than I
was expecting! I was expecting desert
and sand, not green rolling hills. We
swung by the market to get food (because they know how much I like to eat) then
headed home. Upon arrival in the house I
was BOMBARDED by the girls, and it was fantastic!! Hugs and giggling and more hugs and lots of
love. I’m so excited to catch up on
everyone’s lives and share what I’ve been up to in the six months we’ve been
apart. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
ATrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03672198821800999083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8942564729069889058.post-77963356391424550262013-02-17T23:08:00.000-08:002013-02-17T23:08:32.264-08:00More PHOTOS<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
More photos- again you might have to go back through and read blogs for context.<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--S0XF-dpJ48/USHPLpn_doI/AAAAAAAAB1k/VmRCtxPAkhM/s1600/DSCN3106.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--S0XF-dpJ48/USHPLpn_doI/AAAAAAAAB1k/VmRCtxPAkhM/s320/DSCN3106.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Superbowl Monday- 4am</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">first view of the Taj</td></tr>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-k8-1l_6TSyw/USHPLtUiElI/AAAAAAAAB1o/3A1gBGNlyV0/s1600/DSCN3112.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-k8-1l_6TSyw/USHPLtUiElI/AAAAAAAAB1o/3A1gBGNlyV0/s320/DSCN3112.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Agra Fort</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jaislamer</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cemetery, Jaislamer </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Marketing</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View from hotel rooftop, Jaislamer fort</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">MJ!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7WNDk9KMM_A/USHPlsBO_xI/AAAAAAAAB5c/tPxD99dOzcE/s1600/DSCN3206.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7WNDk9KMM_A/USHPlsBO_xI/AAAAAAAAB5c/tPxD99dOzcE/s320/DSCN3206.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I tried to write "HELLO FROM INDIA" but since it was on a slope... didn't work out too well</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sand dune angel</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">sunset on the dunes</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">sunrise</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">breakfast of champions</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me and Michael Jackson</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mango, our fabulous guide</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">this is shortly after I fell over trying to climb up... it's on video somewhere</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">lunch break</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Udaipur</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">morning view from Udaipur</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lunch view</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Monsoon palace</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dancing</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">New friends- Small world!</td></tr>
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ATrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03672198821800999083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8942564729069889058.post-88392851306156514992013-02-17T22:32:00.000-08:002013-02-17T22:32:13.194-08:00PICTURES<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />So I've labeled a few of them... But this was easier than trying to put them individually into blogs. Enjoy!<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Abu Dhabi</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View for New Years</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My bed for the 28hours ride to Kerala</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My view from the front porch- Kerala</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">New friends</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hampi!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">view of Hampi</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cricket game next to a random temple</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">hehe</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Giant Ganesh</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">school group who wanted a picture with me. Then I took their picture</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">babies playing in a tree</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">and i didn't even fall off!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">first rooftop, the one with monkeys and dogs</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">ornate buses in Hampi</td></tr>
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ATrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03672198821800999083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8942564729069889058.post-45197414984224741722013-02-14T00:40:00.000-08:002013-02-14T00:40:41.786-08:00Small world!!!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
So... When I first arrived in India 2 months ago, Ben told me a friend of a friend was also in India and we should try to meet up at the beach. While we were in Goa, we tried to get in touch, but apparently we didn't try hard enough- we never met up with the girl. So, now I'm in Udaipur, Rajasthan- small little town, very very far from Goa. (I bet you know where this story is going...) I'm in a tiny little shop on an obscure tiny side road, talking with the mother and daughter duo who I met yesterday. I step out for 30 minutes, come back and there's a girl there. Turns out she's from Anchorage! Turns out we know a bunch of the same people (its hard not to in Anchorage). AND it turns out she's the friend of a friend who was studying yoga in Goa and we never met up with. Instead we find each other here. CRAZY small world! </div>
ATrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03672198821800999083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8942564729069889058.post-58777972190789343312013-02-14T00:10:00.000-08:002013-02-14T01:12:53.277-08:00Working away<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
This morning, while drinking coffee from my rooftop, I watched men adding another level to the building next to me. At first I was slightly annoyed with the jackhammering, but after about 30seconds I stopped to actually watch them work. I was sitting on the 5th story of the building, and they were at eye level with me. I could see men and women coming up the stairs inside the unfinished building, carrying blocks and buckets of dirt up on their heads. There was a constant stream of people coming up, bringing dirt, dumping it, and going back down. Men on the top level were leveling the dirt and doing something else, I'm sure, but I couldn't quite see. Anyways, the impressive part for me was this constant stream of people carrying dirt up 6 stories (what we in America call the first story, here it's ground level). No machines. No animals. Just people. Just bucket after bucket, one at a time. </div>
ATrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03672198821800999083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8942564729069889058.post-58339924421239575422013-02-13T01:04:00.000-08:002013-02-14T01:04:17.010-08:00Amazing time in Udaipur<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Today has been long, full, and very entertaining. This morning started like the last few, coffee and writing on a rooftop overlooking the town. The I went to the City Palace, and the City Palace Museum. I wandered around for at least 1.5hours looking at drawings and paintings. I had a relaxing lunch atop yet a different roof, and spent 15 minutes inside an oils and perfumes shop being accosted by every scent known to man. Around 3 I went back to the hotel to find the owner, Asif, who offered to take me up to Monsoon palace, located on top of a neighboring hill/mountain, about 7km away. The drive and the palace were beautiful. The views were spectacular- looking down from the mountain over the city and lakes. I hope my pictures do it justice. After a short tour through the city on the way back, I wandered back out for more window shopping. I came across this tiny store off the beaten path- I'm not sure why I went in, because I didn't see anything that really caught my eye, but I was pulled in there. The girl, who I later learned was Juli, invited me in and showed me all sorts of crafts she and her mother made. I ended up staying there for almost two hours, talking in broken English, swapping stories, teaching each other our native languages, and just sitting. Juli's mother spoke even less English than she did, but was so much fun to talk to because of her expressions and gestures. <div>
When I finally left it was just before 7pm, and I remembered Asif telling me about a place to watch traditional Rajasthan dancing. Luckily I found the place in time. The show was an hour long and had 5 dances. The first was two girls in elaborate dresses (all the dresses and costumes were elaborate- it's India) and carried basins lit on fire on their heads. The way they were able to move so much yet never tilt of bounce their heads was amazing. The next dance, four women sat on the floor with chimes attached to their fingers, shins, and toes. They sat, swinging their arms and flicking their wrists, making different beats and rhythms with the chimes. I think this was my favorite of all the dances, because even sitting the women were moving and dancing, and the way they placed the chimes was just plain cool. The next was a man who played with puppets. One of his women puppets danced quite provocatively, which seems to be very out of Indian culture, but it was a crowd pleaser. Next, six women came out with their heads covered, each wearing a different color dress. Here the dancing wasn't anything special but I loved all the colors and all the noise their bangles made when they flicked their arms. Finally was one woman doing what I assume to be a dance to show appreciation of water (western Rajasthan is desert- water is hard to come by). She started with two pots (water basins) balanced on her head. Then three. She danced around a bit more. Then four. Now she was spinning and dancing faster. Then seven basins, each a bit smalled than the one under it, making an enormous tower above her head. She continued dancing, and finally performed a dance on a bed of broken glass. Throughout the whole dance her face was very expressive, her body movements told a story, and she balanced that tower above her with such grace. It was spectacular. I'm so thankful I went!!! </div>
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If you ever make it to India, come to Udaipur. If you make it here, you must see this dancing. It was beautifully done.</div>
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ATrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03672198821800999083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8942564729069889058.post-58442165315198960042013-02-13T00:44:00.000-08:002013-02-14T00:44:10.760-08:00Toilet excitement<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
As some of you know (and others will now know), India is not big on toilet paper. Instead they have spray-things, like a bidet on a cord. Usually the cord is attached to the wall. Anyways, this evening I saw my first ever spraying toilet seat. The actual pastic seat part shoots water out. Yeah, I was a little shocked. </div>
ATrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03672198821800999083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8942564729069889058.post-74546378388066849722013-02-12T01:25:00.004-08:002013-02-12T01:25:51.394-08:00Udaipur<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I arrived this morning around 4am, so I had no idea what the town looked like or what the terrain would be. What a surprise this morning! I woke up and wandered out of the hotel and almost immediately came to a large lake and slow moving river. I crossed over and found my way to one of many rooftop restaurants (this one with real coffee!!! Oh how I miss bottomless cups). I can see mountains in the distance, I'm looking over the lake, and there are miles of winding streets and alleyways for me to discover. Today I plan to be an actual tourist- go into all the shops, look at jewelry and other souvenirs, take pictures, and walk aimlessly. I'm hopeful for this town... </div>
ATrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03672198821800999083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8942564729069889058.post-14272638409984362842013-02-12T00:49:00.000-08:002013-02-12T00:50:49.206-08:00Typical overnight adventure<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
This time from Jaislamer to Udaipur. Once on the bus, I took a bottom bunk close to the front, to limit the amount of bouncing during the ride. Well, at the first stop, the man above me somehow busted his window, causing glass to rain down on me and my things. After removing chunks from my hair, I was moved to a back top bunk. At least there was no glass. A few hours into the ride we stopped for a toilet break. "Toilet" is a fun term... Turns out it was the side of a wall in a busy town. Well, when you've got to go, you've got to go. At least the sun was down. Around 11pm, after I'd FINALLY been able to fall asleep, I'm awakened so that we can change buses because, "This one wrong. No good." Always an adventure. But, as I used to say in Moz, I arrived with all my luggage in the correct location in one piece- it was a good trip.</div>
ATrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03672198821800999083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8942564729069889058.post-6787497903876499752013-02-11T01:14:00.000-08:002013-02-12T01:19:31.711-08:00Camel safari in Jaislamer<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Many tour companies run camel safaris out of Jaislamer- apparently it's the thing to do. And who am I to pass up that experience?! It was myself and one other American, our guide Mango, and our camels Joe and Michael Jackson. We set off around three, took about 1.5hours on the camel, and come to the dunes. It wasn't "as far as the eye could see" but still very impressive. We found our own little spot behind some trees (to block the wind), made a fire, and drank chai. I wandered off up onto the dunes for sunset- it was amazing. Facing west there were no dunes but there were no people or buildings either, so I had an unobstructed view. It was wonderfully beautiful. And it seemed to go on for hours, well after the sun had actually fallen below the horizon. I finally came down from my perch (after making a sand-dune angel and attempting to write things in the sand) and Mango was finishing up making chapatis for dinner. The food was great! Jon (other American) and I chatted for a while about our travels and being away from the states for so long. Mango helped lie blankets down and I crawled into my sleeping bag to stare at the stars while the boys chatted some more. It was a new moon (and Chinese New Year!) so the sky was full of them. I think I lay there for over an hour just starring, making shapes out of the stars, and watching for shooting stars (of which I saw 2). I was most hesitant to sleep because of my fear of the dark and spiders, yet it turns out the problem with sleep was the symphony of snoring coming from either side of me. Less sleep = more time to look at stars.<br />
Sunrise was also beautiful. Cold, but beautiful. Even though I knew it was true, it was interesting how much the temperature changed between day and night. So, amazing sunrise, a leisurely breakfast, and back off on the camels. After about 30 minutes we came through a town to get water, and we made friends with two young girls. They were fascinated by my hair. Another hour and we stopped for good and Mango made lunch. After eating, we were picked up and taken back home. The trip was a lot of fun- middle of nowhere, good food, amazing sunset and sunrise, a bazillion stars (I counted), and some solitude. I'm not a romantic person- my idea of romance is a ball game, greasy food, and a good beer- but I get why people come out here. Beautiful. </div>
ATrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03672198821800999083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8942564729069889058.post-84754952317220309352013-02-10T00:42:00.000-08:002013-02-12T00:43:01.172-08:00My new nickname<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The hotel and safari owner in Jaislamer is a very nice man who has been extremely helpful. He has met and worked with many tourists over the years, and tells me he's pretty good with deciphering nationality. He took one look at me and said, "You? What are you? I will call you Mixed Vegetable because I cannot tell from where you come!" Mixed Veg. That's now what they call me here. Awesome</div>
ATrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03672198821800999083noreply@blogger.com0