Estoy Embarazado

Heheheheheh...

This is one of my favorite puns in Spanish-English mistranslation.

Anyway, today while orchestrating one of our now famous whirlwind prenatal clinics in a tiny village around town we had a local comadrona come asking for us to attend a birth at one of the homes down the road. Catherine, the professor and midwife, told us to choose a number between one and ten... Meant to be...

I followed her and the comadrona into a bedroom where a woman lay flat and with contractions her mother-in-law pushed on her fundus. She looked exhausted and strained. We auscultated fetal tones, palpated, sat with her through a few contractions, encouraged fluid and movement. Had her mother-in-law help us to remove the extra belt she was wearing around her abdomen (perhaps to also "help" push on the fundus, but really these seem to just block complete movement of the baby--we've seen lots of transverse and oblique presentations in the clinics). The comadrona asked Catherine to check her cervix. Only 4 or 5 centimeters. Definitely not time to be pushing, sheesh.

We left, Catherine saying, in all her years she has never been asked to a home birth in Guatemala. While it could have been considered an honor, it felt more like the family wanted all these foreign medic people to offer them some other standard of care than they assumed they were already receiving. They asked for an IV, and more gloves, and for us to stay.

We gave them reassurance, a bundle of onesies and receiving blankets and moved on to the next village for our scheduled prenatal clinic set-up. Our cultural broker, the local Health Promoter, told us that although the family may have wanted us to stay, the comadrona would not be paid for the birth if so, and these women put in their time and expertise working with each woman and family, we think she was being polite in front of us and the family. The woman has already had many babies, and she was going to do fine.

Sure enough, we got word by the end of the prenatal clinic at the next village, she gave birth at 4pm (2 hours ago) and everyone is great.

Birth is most exciting and wonderful, when least eventful and interrupted eh?

Dia de los diabeticos!

Not Dia de los muertos..

This morning was our first clinic day, unless I can count our last night´s late call to the hotel where we stay asking if we were "the nurses" and could we come help another foreign volunteer with her suspicious and menacing mozzie bites. I brought my first aid goods, including not the norm stuff like a vial of chloroprep and of course my arnica and calendula homeopathics. This poor girls' wounds made me want to become a fan of DEET. They were boiling, exploading, oozing and inflamming a decent surface area.

Anyway, this morning at 6am we were up and whoever wanted--all of us--trekked to the clinica where Jesus-Antonio consults with the local Type 2's. We did many a manual blood pressure check and when the physician came out to tell the remainder handful of folks that he couldn't see anymore of them because they had just run out of test strips, I interrupted and supplied my own. There were maybe 5 or 6 people left, and they had been waiting for hours. I can't sustain another diabetic clinic with my own supply, but I was glad that I had a match with so many different kinds of machines and strips out there.

¡Me encanta hablando Español! It was so fun to speak to everyone today, I got real friendly and chatty. It feels great to be back in a Spanish speaking country, my limited Spanish goes incredibly further than my Thai, Indonesian, or Kiswahili!! Now however, I'm going to try to pick up some Kaqchikel, the local Maya dialect.

San Lucas Toliman on the Lake of Atitlan in southern Guatemala is one of the most beauitful lakeside mountain villages I have seen. Food served by the old Father from Minnesota who has lived here for 45 years is not so good. I'm going to sneak some rice and beans and tortillas instead.

"Our Culture is Our Resistance"

I LOVE having a bag full of the following items in my living room:

* receiving blankets, onesies, hats, teeny socks, and sleepers (x 40)

* stethoscope, sphygmomanometer, fetoscope, penlight and non-sterile gloves

* bottles and bottles of ibuprofen, prenatal vitamins, ferrous gluconate and syringes

* scrubs, self-filtering water bottles, arnica, expensive camera, sketchbook and journal (the real paper kind, not a computer)

* Call the Midwife, A Midwife's Tale, Where There Are No Doctors, a Spanish dictionary and The Glass Castle

* poncho from a friend who went last year for the afternoons when it drenches and pours

* an expectation that I will somehow get to experience a sweat lodge with one of the traditional Mayan midwives, comadronas, and learn more Spanish.

* passport

Wish me luck on yet another guaranteed-to-change-your-life-once-in-a-lifetime-experience-cultural-immersion-adventure.

PS. if you ever find yourself capable of acquiring any of the following items, I decided that I could probably use a regular income of these for future endeavors: onesies, receiving blankets, non-sterile gloves (smalls), prenatal vitamins, iron, ibuprofen, arnica (homeopathic), amoxicillin, metformin, glucophage, one touch test strips, or urine dip sticks. Save 'em for me, I promise to spread them around the world.

Cheers!

Photographs from the amazing and beautiful book Our Culture is Our Resistance: repression, refuge, and healing in Guatemala by Jonathan Moller.

Spoaquin

I moved.

My first day in my new town I went to an event on Main St. to celebrate Washington's most honored LEED certified green building, platinum style, at the Saranac. I hung out with the Mayor of the city, Mary Verner... well, I stood next to her at least after her speech about further "greening" the city and the parks project and working toward an even more bike friendly atmosphere in light of a seven million dollar budget cut for 2010.

I was chatted up and openly sized up by a local lady looking for the best spot for me in her political agenda for optimizing her beloved city. She is the amazing, young and beautiful Mariah who has already recruited me to join her circle of feminist activists/do-gooders/rad bunch of lasses in general, the Shrinking Violets.

Dinner overlooking the falls was beautiful at sunset in the old Flour Mill building.

The next day I went to the post office and the library to get myself updated. Both the postal clerk and the librarian looked me up and smiled at me saying "Welcome home."

My childhood best friend moved as well, and on her birthday started a new job as the head pastry chef at Sante's. A gorgeous local foods French restaurant that invites studiers to hang. Other favs are: Cafe Marron, Zola's, and the Elk (where you can substitute Small Planet Tofu for any meat on the menu).

I've been going for groceries at Huckelberry's but can't wait for the Main Market Co-op to open grandly in the fall, I prematurely became a member back in May. Also there are Farmer's Market days Wednesdays and Saturdays.

On the schedule for the week is to scope out the nursing opportunities at one of the two hospitals in town; one I admire for its non-profit platform, and the other where I was born. I'm also hoping to start up a volunteer doula program in the labor & delivery unit at either hospital, can't wait to get involved in the doula community here!

Also, we'll stop in to see a film at the new and improved Magic Lantern Theatre, the city's historic film house where I once snuck in to see the Rocky Horror Picture Show as a pre-teen.

I live in a neighborhood called Peaceful Valley, come visit anytime!

Flashback: Africa 2004

Writings from Africa...

*

I dozed off and on during the 8 hour bus ride from Nairobi to Moshi, the scenery seemed to change drastically every time I opened my eyes. It wasn't long before I saw my first wild game--a zebra... smashed, complete with splattered guts all over the road.

*

We were first shown the maternity ward and met the head nurse, Sister Beatrice. There was a woman on a cot in the back who had given birth to her third son the afternoon before. The nurse showed the four of us volunteers this tiny new person, with the smallest pink fingers I've ever seen. His mama looked pleased and exhausted. That was it for midwifery lessons, on to the clinic next door where we met Sister Mbawa, who is diabetic. She and I had a good chat.

*

Women and children were lined up outside the small vaccination room, waiting. Most of the kiddos were crying. One woman pointed to me and told her toddler "mzungu!" I was meant to either distract or entertain her fearful child. I owned up to the name [white foreignor] very well, I am rather white--I have been living in England for the past year.

*

We took off into the rain forest paradise of Kilimanjaro. An 8 km trek to the first hut, through Seattlesque mossy wilderness that transformed into Dr. Suessian skinny looming feathery trees as we climbed elevation.

*

So tired, so many babies! On the way home from clinic we stopped in to visit the Honey Badger Ranch. Home to the blue scrotum monkeys. A lovely periwinkle shade.

*

Woke up with a burning sensation in my bum. Climbed off the bunk and slipped into the loo where I spent some quality time with my exploading arse. Popped some Immodium AD and set off for work. Instead of Majengo Clinic, we went to Mweni Primary School to help with the choir competition. "Jeni! Jeni!" a few girls hollered to me from there seats.

*

After a meal we had feedback hour, then history and politics with Zik followed by Kiswahili lessons [Marieta tells me I am a very good student. She gave me an envelope after class today with a photo of her children inside, and invited me to visit her home, anytime. The letter was marked "Jenny"]. During feedback I was moved to tears by Mary's account of the Upendo orphanage and Karen's account of the OCAT classroom [One Child At a Time]. At the school the kids sit quietly in their classroom in their blue and white uniforms until noon when they go home. There is no teacher.

*

Dara and I went in search of the perfect fabric at the market. We made it back just in time to make our Swahili lesson. Number day. When Marieta got to '10' she went wide eyed and clasped her hand over her mouth. We made her explain. She whispered to us that she accidentally said kuma instead of kumi. Kuma, incidentally means vagina, not the number 10. After a ton of pleading, she also taught us mmboo. Man can that woman giggle.

*

Sister Beatrice grabbed me and placed my hands on an 8 month pregnant belly in the prenatal clinic. I palpated for the baby's head like she had shown me. This babe was looking for light and a tunnel. I listened to the speedy heart tones with the fetoscope contraption. Another woman was across the room in a cot, she was dilated to 3 cm, her baby would arrive later that night.

*

Elaine: What if I get acclimated on the Kili hike?

Sarah: That'd be a good thing!

*

We picked up Karen at the school, she told us they played charades today. One team of kids acted out smacking each other and the other team of kids emphatically guessed correctly "teacher!"

*

Elaine: What happens if you break down in the Serengeti? You can't just call AA.

Sarah: Not unless you immediately find you have a drinking problem, no.

*

We had finally arrived at our destination inside the Ngorongoro National Park. While we decide where to pitch the tents Lesley says she wants to "room" with me. She sprayed our tent with perfume, put up photos and her cell phone even rang once. The she passed around orange juice and vodka. Camping with Lesley is fun!

*

Lesley woke me with a start saying she thought she heard a shot. We waited and heard it again so we popped our heads out of the tent only to see a massive adult male elephant standing maybe 30 feet away from our tent under the big acacia tree. He was lurching back on his hind legs, suspending his entire upper body to grab a very large branch off the tree with his trunk which then comes crashing down to the ground, hence the thundering noise. Then he munches. "Holy sh*t" we begin to hear from the other tents nearby. The elephant turns and faces our tent directly, his ears flared out. That's when we heard the cocking of a firearm. The armed guard was directly behind us. We were in the line of fire. He was steady, and aimed. For about a minute everyone just waited in silence to see who would make the first move. My first thought was, dude are you going to try to freaking shoot this huge thing?? Then I thought, wait, is this freaking huge thing going to trample me?? All of a sudden, the elephant simply turned around and starting munching again, a small while later he eventually meandered away. After I realized that I was in fact surviving this moment, I recalled the incredible full moon that brilliantly lit the event and framed the elephant perfectly, and the vast African night sky chock full of stars, complete with one shooting across the landscape of others. Wow.

*

Someone counted 65 hippopotami for me. And it smelled like it too. Hippopoo. There were kissing hippos, mating hippos, baby hippos [that's usually how that happens I guess], pooping hippos, farting and general oozing hippos, grunting hippos, hiding hippos, running hippos, swimming hippos... so many hippos!

*

I went to Upendo instead of Majengo today, so glad I did. I wish I could be here longer. I wrote down everyone's name. We played hard. Some peed. Some cried. Some ate some dirt, and some held on to you so tight and wouldn't let go. Two kiddos could fit on one swing, they piled onto everything they could. I played with Brightness and Lucy. We quickly became live jungle gyms for these toddlers.

*

Lunch time today was noticeably different. No screaming kids, no throwing food, no tears, no talking even. It was ominous. Then it hit me. My nose stung and my eyes swelled up. I jumped up to see the tiny kittens outside to get my mind off the tiny children inside. The van arrived early today. I walked to it almost without looking back, almost. I saw the kids and nurses waving slowly, I waved back. They ran to the van, singing and smiling to us. We sang and smiled back, and we cried.

*

In Arusha, we met Peter O'Neil, an exiled American Black Panther. He has been here in exile for 34 years and has started the United African Alliance Community Center. He told us when he left he brought 19 year old Charlotte with him. The US papers stated that he was likely somewhere around the Mexican or Canadian border. He read this in Sweden. He moved on to Algeria and stayed for two years. Later Charlotte gave birth to their first son, Malcolm in a Chinese Maoist Hospital where she was told to only say one thing during labor I give you this soldier! Pete wanted to build a raft and get to the states and hide out in the Rockies until the Revolution came. Charlotte convinced him to try Tanzania first, and they've been here ever since.

*

...and said my goodbyes, and cried a bit more. One last time I heard the neighbor boy say hellogoodbye in one breath and in a perfect American accent. I watched the scenery change from dirt to pavement, from slow rural labor to bustling town business. I bought a book about India at a stop.

See you there.

Self-induced premature quarter life crisis...

...which I fully realize means that I am apparently intending to live to be 104.

For me, so far, the quarter life crisis has been fantastic (it was mentioned to me that it cannot technically be a crisis then..) but I moved into my own place, I pop about 12 vitamins, minerals and supplements a day, including nutrient-rich alfalfa infused drinks--the chlorophyll I brought back from Bali. I exercise and dance to my heart's content and, oh yeah, had my nostril studded with a rhinestone. Not too bad really.

Then, for the clincher; this year I went to Miami for Spring Break, South Beach baby! I went to visit a girlfriend of mine, one I've known since we were 6 and 7 years old. She is a pastry chef at an uber swank hotel in Miami Beach. Miami has got to be one of the most fascinating cities in this world. It is so colorful, everything is pastel or flourescent, all is bright, which is perky and great, but then there are the Miamese..

People are amazing. I honestly felt like a naive farm girl. Miami is only-one-article-of-clothing-necessary if not clothing-optional entirely; your choice article can be namely a longish top, OR bottoms. Simply the bikini or speedo will do just fine as well. And anything that offers full view and leaves nothing to the imagination as far as shape, size, color or otherwise of any normally covered part of the body, is perfectly acceptable. I've witnessed many lifestyles, and I can appreciate the naked human form like no other, but I was caught gawking! I'm convinced that no where else are the '80's so alive and vibrantly celebrated as South Beach Miami during the Spring Break season. For full effect, Pflueg's husby Craig repeatedly sang me "Joey" by Concrete Blonde--a classic '80's jingle that was music to my ears this week in all this pastel and cheesy class (oh yes, cheesy class, apparently is not an oxymoron). Sadly, my fanny pack didn't actually fit the bill, where is that old black and hot pink nylon number anyway??

My first encounter with Miami folk was walking down the street with coffees and chocolates from Pflueg's pastry shop where an older babushka woman linked arms with a young woman wearing trendy scrubs, she swerves her body in front of us and says in a thick Slavic accent: Hyou dvinking Vodka??!! Ah the beauty and sadness of dementia, I'm sure she's not allowed, but would absolutely feel divine after a swig!

In light of the "crisis" I had been seriously considering a tattoo, which I figured Lynette would fully support as she has made a beautiful canvas of her own rad self. But, Lynette, being the all practical one, told me to try a pseudo tat first that would last one month. I wanted it on the back of my neck, but couldn't decide what to get. After contemplating getting just any old thing put there just to see what having something there was really like, I freaked out. Ohmysoul, thank goodness, but no thank you.

I haven't dolled up with another girly for a night out in a while, last time Nette and I did, I believe we were 18 and in Bali.

Ms. Lynette Louise and I had a proper catching up not to mention I finally met her husband of nearly two years! A charmer to be sure. I'm hoping they move closer someday, but not before I can pop back over for another guilty pleasure* visit to the wonder that is Miami...

*Next time I'm schlepping my white trousers and any and all pastels and flourescents I may possibly own! When in Miami wear blue eyeshadow and pink lipstick, huge earrings and your bikini for a bra with the best of 'em!

Wish I could pull off orange shades, hot pink bikini and blue eyeshadow in Seattle... Thanks for the make-over babe!

Flashback: India 2006

In India: Part I

I am here, well, and in love with India. It has already been one week and I have done so much, with so much left to do still. I am working in the mornings at an orphanage for children with disabilities which is rather cheery and very fun, so far there are too many to pick one favorite! In the afternoons I spend my time at Kalighat, Mother Teresa's home for the dying destitute. This has been very hard work and a beautiful experience, something new every time. Wonderful. I also gave a lecture to the OB nurses at the local private hospital--with special permission from the head of nursing staff. The nurses were so darling, I love them, and they were very interested in what I did. I donated my birthing balls and other tools that I had lugged all the way here. It felt great to pass them on and to share a little doula spirit with them.



Pashminas, mirrored Indian woolen blankets, beaded slippers, bangles, scarves, saris... these are the things I've been eyeing, everything is so enticing and beautiful. The sheer contrasts of this city are mesmerizing. The smells around every corner consist of all of the following all at once: incense, garbage, fruit, petrol, lotus blossoms, sewage, sweat and curry. It's exquisitely intense.

Other than all of this, I have been drowning in my own sweat. It feels like I've been on a long hot run, and then put on my nice clothes and headed in for work without a shower. It's great. I am staying in a hostel with several other girls, quite a worldly room, for about $1 a night, fully equipped with a luxurious cold "shower" faucet. A necessity in this heat. Showers are equally necessary and futile, I love it. Not so much in the way of Monsoon season actually, a few days of rain--torrential and flooding--at first, then simply sweltering heat. I am eating more and more each day, I started out with just one lassi, I think I'm too hot and awe-struck to be hungry. But my energy is depleting. After this email I am going for a real dinner, and I'm really excited, daal, naan, curry, chai, sweet lime juice, even the fresh roadside peeled cucumber is amazing! (Thank you Sakina)

Tomorrow after the workday is finished I am heading to Darjeeling for a quiet misty mountain respite. Very much looking forward to this. I have, in my head, grand plans to visit Nepal and Bhutan while I'm up there. We shall see if it all actually works.

You must see this country to believe it. I wish you all that opportunity.

All my love,
namaste

J

In India: Part II

Happy Indian Independence Day today (the 15th), or Gandhi Day!

I am finally back in Calcutta, although it is again stiflingly hot, it feels good to be somewhere familiar, and in the company of other people!

I managed to make my escape to the hills but not without undergoing many adventures. So I last left you all with the prospect of my first real meal in India. It was grand, loads of food, spicy and filling and loads of it really! Well, that has still been my only real meal thus far. Immediately afterward I spiraled down the sickly slopes into Indian-illness delirium. The entire next day I writhed and wallowed. I was in a very sad state when one my dorm mates finally returned in the afternoon and got me situated. She gave me a handful of pills and made sure I took them, one of them was ciprofloxacin and I don't know the rest! Hahah. I remember having all my own, happier, natural medications laid out in front of me, but I couldn’t leave to get water without vomiting all over the courtyard of the hostel. She got me water and tucked me into bed and had me listen to her soothing music. When she left, thunder struck, literally. The rains and thunder were therapeutic and I remember coming slowly back to consciousness and testing blood sugar constantly praying that I wouldn't go low because I couldn't fathom ingesting anything. I actually dreamed that I had to give myself that emergency glucagon shot. I recovered enough to somehow checkout, get a taxi and get on my train going north that evening. I was in a sleeper class compartment which was packed with stinky sweaty bodies; I could see only men for about three whole cars. I believe it’s convenient to be vomiting constantly when you are maybe concerned for your things and safety. No one paid me any attention!

After my nearly 12 hour trip I went straight for the border town of Kakarvitta, Nepal. It was an amazing transformation from the bustle of India. Not a tourist in sight. A very quiet, slow, lush town. The children found me wandering the street and we soon had a huge parade. A real pied piper. They were all so lovely. Even the adults were thrilled with my unannounced arrival. I wanted to scoop them all up and take them home. One girl was called Jinita; everyone else’s name was nearly 5 syllables so I have no idea! I loved my small taste of Nepal.

The next day I went to Darjeeling, which involved a gorgeous mountain drive through green tea fields and lush forests, but I spent my energy not throwing up, which was a good thing. The mountains were stunning, but I unfortunately found only a sad dingy hotel that had vacancies. It was a horrible place to spend any amount of time. Especially alone. I was hit very hard with the reality of loneliness. I did some fun things; learned about teas, had a cooking lesson in Tibetan dumplings and shopped for beautiful jeweler. But the only people who talked to me were the sleezeballs who followed me around. I was very fed up. The cool temperatures were wonderful but after only two days I had to head back down the mountains and see what else I could see.

Back in the junction town of Siliguri, I shut myself up in a hotel room for almost a whole day. Overcome with being alone and frustrated and still ill I tried to recuperate a little more. Unfortunately there were three knocks on my door in the first 15 minutes (once for the bellboy to simply hand me the card of the hotel and actually recite the entire telephone number to me! I was too bewildered to interrupt him) then my phone rang off the hook. I hung up on it a few times, but the receptionist would just call back. I explained to her that I was sick and didn't want to be bothered. When she called again she said, "I'm sorry ma'am, but I have never met a foreigner, I want to ask you questions..." Oh dear, so charmingly sweet and innocent. Later I humored her and spoke with her in the lobby. The entire staff gathered around. It was great. "I wouldn't let my daughter do what you are doing even if she were twice your age!" sad one man. They sure thought I was interesting.

The next day I hopped on a four hour bus ride to the border of India and Bhutan. It costs tourists a $200/day foreigners tax, (plus a $50 visa obtained ahead of time only) to get across the border. But my guide book said that this border town allowed visitors for free until 10 o'clock. Then I heard that they aren't even doing that anymore. So I thought I would go anyway and see for myself. Sure enough a few months ago they stopped letting day visitors in for free, and it would be impossible for me to enter. Well, that sounded like a challenge. So I put on my best "just rode a four hour bus after coming all the way here from Calcutta where I am a volunteer, ALONE, just to visit the beautiful city of Phentsholing, and I had no idea!" face. Well lo and behold, not only did I get across the border, in the city and officially become a visitor in the lovely and tranquil mountains of Bhutan, but I had a personal government guide as well! Hahahha. That was good fun.

Rather pleased I headed back to catch my late train heading back to Kolkata. In an A/C compartment this time which was wonderful. Now I am here again, ready to return to my volunteering and do some more sightseeing around this city. I head back to the US on Sunday morning early. I am following the news a bit too, so hopefully shouldn't have any trouble at the airport.

And, I am eating. Light teas, broths, rice and energy bars. I can't wait to go out for Indian cuisine when I return!! This illness has broken my heart because I can't eat my beloved foods here. I am working up to it maybe. We'll see.

So, a very distinct change in experiences since my last email, but it's all part of India, and therefore I love it. I laugh now at all the mishaps and all the things that made my stomach churn. But I can't complain. India is everything that I had dreamed, and nothing that I could have ever prepared for. How wonderful and fun is that!?

Thank you for listening,

All my love
namaste,
Jane

In India: Part III

The final installment:

Hope all is well with everyone, thank you so much for all your emails, they have brightened everyday for me. You are all wonderful people.

I had a great last few days in Kolkata. After my last email I came down with a vicious head cold, probably the transition from a cold to hot climate. My first day back I went to work anyway, feeling crummy, and then a friend of mine who is actually a UW Law student (yay Julie!) asked me to go with him to a project he was working on with the children of the prostitutes in Calcutta's red light district. It was very Born into Brothels. I played with all the little kids while my friend worked with the older kids on a project of theirs. I had so much fun. But I had such a mixture of feelings for these kids. In one way they are so normal with the same opportunities and prospects as any other child, but the reality is harsh. It's so incredibly painful and sad to think of what might actually happen to their lives. The likelihood of these young girls following their mothers is too real to bear. It tears me apart. It was wonderful and surreal to meet them.

I laid low the next morning recuperating some more with some discovered honey lemon ginger tea. It seems I am always in recuperation mode. In the afternoon I met up with a fellow traveler I met coming back from the north and we visited the Kali Temple near to where I work. This is a temple of worship for the goddess of destruction, Kali. It is a gruesome figure with a huge round black face and three orange eyes. There are burning incense sticks and red flowers everywhere in the temple, but all you see is a blur of red and smoke, making the scene very eerie. We missed the goat sacrifice from earlier in the day-phew! I love the spirit and the intensity of these people. Afterward I took my friend to visit my work at the dying home, he is a doctor of internal medicine in Switzerland and turned out to be a great help to the sister's and to a handful of the patients. It was great of him to jump right in and do some assessments and look over some charts and answer the sister's questions. Apparently they see one volunteer doctor a week for a short time one afternoon only. And of all the nuns, only one sister is actually a nurse, although many of the volunteers are nurses.

The following day was a day off for all the volunteers so I spent it doing some shopping and sightseeing. The shopping has been fantastic, fabric and jewelry galore. Everything is colorful and shiny. It's amazing to look down a busy street and see lots of dreary colors from the dust and dirt, but to be able to focus on one woman's vibrant and crisp sari: bright orange or yellow or pink or turquoise. It shows the rich culture and beauty amidst some of the world's poorest places. This is India. I ended up sitting in a sari shop with dozens of other women, wealthy Indian couples, as the wives sifted through piles of fabrics. I was shown a stunning piece right off the bat, and then after seeing countless others I decided upon that very first penetrating fuschia silk with silver embroidery. It was 6 meters of incredible material, and soon it was my very own. I was so excited. I went straight to the tailor's down the street from where I was staying and was measured for the blouse; the remaining 5 1/2 meters are to be draped to perfection for traditional Indian fashion. That evening I had arranged to see a show put on by the children I'd visited earlier in the red light district, the children of the "untouchables" as the director of the program sadly told me. It was a delightful performance. All kinds of classic mishaps when you get a bunch of children together and put them on stage. But it was a big audience and the kids had so much fun. It was beautiful to witness. I wanted to burst into tears I was so moved by their happiness.

I worked very hard on my last couple of days, it felt great. I was feeling my absolute best since my arrival almost three weeks ago. Rather sad that I had been ill pretty much the whole time, I was relieved that I could at least feel strong for my final days. I managed to eat three meals on my last day, which was quite a feat. The best being the street food called the Kati Roll. It was prepared like the New York City Hot Dog stand I thought. You order the ingredients and they pack it all into greasy, recently fried bread, squirt some hot hot sauce inside and roll it up. It was cheap, fast, spicy, and fantastic. I loved it. I also ate cool peeled cucumbers and fresh soothing coconut milk right out of the coconut. It was really good to be able to eat a little, I felt like I could stay another three weeks now.

I made the most of this adventure I think. I had some lofty goals that I didn't manage, but I kept myself very busy at the dying home and the orphanage and supporting the children of the red light district at the end. And I can't forget all my efforts early on to talk with the OB nurses at the hospital and make my doula donation. I didn't see one birth or one death, but I learned a lot about both. I see plenty of both at home, and that's where I am needed now. My experience in India has been very powerful and wonderful, and someday I will go back, and do more. This was just a taste, but I did it; by myself and I feel very accomplished. I will never forget my India and what it has done for me. For that I am beyond grateful.

Now I am home, I will recover fully and be healthy again, and get back into my busy life here. I am happy to be back, but look forward to the next time I can escape and pretend to be a part of someone else's culture; it's good for my soul.

Thank you again for listening and sharing this with me, it's been a pleasure to share it with you and think of all the wonderful people I am lucky enough to have in my life.

Love to you all,
see you soon!!
J

Yum!

...ah the myriad culinary delights of the greater southeast asian circuit.

Collage

starting out in bangkok

balinese bartender santa (hahah, these are way out of order)

brunei jetty to the jungle

indian santa in kuala lumpur. he told me santa was outsourcing.

butterfly garden in singapore

mobile phone ad in papua new guinea

this smiley man is holding a tiny baby wild boar (ready for eatin' ma is being handled by the guy with the arms)

guadalcanal in the solomons is doused in oil

a blond boy in honiara, solomon islands

aboriginal art in the making in darwin, outback

east timor chap selling cheap and delicious bananas

folks oozing out of a minibus in dili, east timor

proudly flying the gold star communist flag into hualong bay, vietnam

and a cheeky puppet face in the burma market

Lasting Impressions

***check back in a week, photos to be posted***

This is my final day in Southeast Asia, after a full five months. I feel like I've truly done so much, that all I have on my agenda for today is to eat some street vendor pad thai and get a massage. Bangkok has grown on me to the point of becoming one of my favorite cities, first impressions do only terrible things for this city's reputation, but there's more beneath the touts, pollution, tuk-tuk traffic and all.

Wrapping up the excursion of a lifetime with pops I will recap our final week: From Hanoi, Vietnam we went to Yangon, Myanmar. Having visited the country under very different circumstances, namely for research into the plight of the persecuted refugee seekers, it was interesting to venture into the capital city. Guilt about spending any money in this dictator-administration made us pay close attention to the family run small guesthouses and Thai-based airlines. We have been told, and hold firm to this, that a little international exposure of what life outside this oppressive government can be like is good for the citizens of Myanmar/Burma/Bagan*.

*Myanmar is the name given by the corrupt genocidal government. Burma was the name of the country under British imperialism, locals have never referred to their country as Burma. So perhaps we should call it Bagan, the only original claim to unadulterated identity.

A small word on corruption: If you were to change money from USD to Myanmar Kyat at an official government run money changer the exchange rate would be 6:$1, however if you were to change on the illegal black market in the alleys of downtown you're looking at 1,150 Kyat to one US dollar. That is beyond ridiculous. And of course pity the fool who attempts to be official in this land and changes money "officially" they'll be spending nearly $200 for a cup a joe, that might cost 2500 Kyat. One dude who approached us with an itinerary for the day to all the sites and asked questions like, "what do you do for a living? What do you study in school? Are you staying in a big hotel or a guesthouse?" He told us he was the administrator official of something, and we quickly left him. Otherwise people were immensely friendly, invitations to homes flew at us, we were of course some of the only foreigners, and certainly two of the few actual tourists around.

Christmas Eve was spent in Kuala Lumpur, Malyasia. It was a riotous time of every Western holiday jumbled into one night (Santas everywhere, aerosol sprays to look like snow, red heart shaped confetti, roast turkey dinners at every restaurant, people in costumes: minnie mouses, reindeer, rabbits, crazy wigs, streamers and noise makers and partiers in the streets... truly a little of everything, pretty impressive for an Islamic Nation. The next morning we just missed our flight to Bali because I didn't realize it was an hour later time zone. Our only hiccup, and we were put on the next flight. Penalty: spending Christmas day in an airport.

We did make it back to Bali, beautiful beach weather, luscious gardens, ohmysoul fantastic food! And I got a moment to pop back to the clinic and give big hugs and kisses to my favorite midwives, Ibu Kadek and Ibu Agung Mas! It was a wonderful surprise reunion. Bali was good to us, as always. I can't wait to be back.

Lastly in Bangkok, and here I wrap up all. I will be back Monday night late. Looong flight awaits, and then snow and friends and family and classes and Godiva and American grocery stores and skiing and my own pillow (if Forest will send it back!) and so much more!

I can't speak Vietnamese

I love Hanoi. I will absolutely venture back to this country. I had the absolute hardest time with the language, which has only further justified my need to return... someday. I have been very proud of myself for picking up a surprising handful of words and phrases, everywhere we go. But no matter how hard I tried, I could not convince anyone in Vietnam that I was attempting to speak in fact, their language.

Some of favorite moments were:

Dad approached by a classic shoe shine boy who leans in close and says "Very cheap, I shine your shoes, only one million dollars."

Marvelous pho, though vegetarian is rather unheard of, so I'm still very much looking forward to that cozy spot on the Ave back home, as well as of course the Taramind Tree on Jackson (the Little Saigon of Seattle.)

And my best vegetarian moment thus far in all my travels...
(Dad and I are planning a trip to Hu Long Bay which includes a meal.)

I say: I'm vegetarian.

Our booker says: OK, no problem, if you don't like the seafood you can have beef.

Me: Oh, but I'm vegetarian, I don't eat meat.

He: Oh, absolutely, no problem. If you don't like beef, we have chicken.

Me: I'm sorry, but I don't eat chicken, only vegetables.

He: Absolutely, we have everything, if you don't like chicken we have BEEF! (my emphasis)

There are many other reasons why I loved Vietnam, but for now here is my little snippet. Still without photographs*, but too bad!

Well, Happy Merry Christmas Eve to those out there practicing, and Happy Whatever-else to All, where ever you are. I cannot wait for snow in Seattle, despite what everyone says.

*These were added at a later date. Photographs of old propaganda posters, still ubiquitous.