So I thought it would be pretty simple. I took a ferry from Italy to Greece, I would now take one from Greece to Venice. I arrived to the port terminal from Athens on a bus after a day of looking at the Parthenon and the Temple of Athena, and walking around the city in general. I only spent a day in Athens. I arrived yesterday and spent the night, got up this morning to look around the city. After skimming the main sites I was on my way again enroute to Venice. So there I was at the port terminal after five hours of train/busing to get to Greece's west coast port. It was about 10pm. I bought my ticket and paid the port tax. I met some Canadian backpackers waiting to board the ship and since we all spoke English waited together and chatted. When the time came and we were passing through security, the officer said "Are you all group?"
"Yes," we said nonchalantly.
"Passports, please?"
The two Canadians whipped out their Canadian passports and I took out my Jordanian. He looks at mine again and says, "Are you together, friends?"
"Yes," we said again.
He looks at the two Canadians, "Friends before? You know him before?".
"We're friends, but we just met" the Canadians replied.
After a few minutes he says,"If you want you can go now because it's going to take time with him," the officer says to the Canadians in regards to me. The two Canadians walk out towards the ship. I got a really bad feeling. I'm thinking why does this guy not want witnesses for what he's about to do. I asked him what was going on and he just said he had to check something in a purposefully vague way. He asks me if I live in Jordan and I told him no I live in the United States. He says but you're Jordanian. I said yes (in my mind I'm thinking technically I'm Palestinian American), but yes I'm Jordanian. He says "Why do you come to Greece?" as if he wasn't going to believe anything I was about to say.
"Tourism, I wanted to see the Acropolis."
"For only one day, that is curious!"
I didn't react. I just shrugged my shoulders.
"You live in the United States?"
"YES!" and I pulled out my Green Card and handed it too him so that he would believe me.
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He takes my Green Card and starts looking at it. And then my passport. And then my Green Card. And then to my passport again. "Is there a problem?" I asked him.
"No I just have to check something."
"If you ask me what you want, maybe I can help you find it."
"Just wait, I do my job."
Again he starts fumbling through my passport. The whole time he looks really nervous like someone doing something they shouldn't be doing.
"Why you in Europe?"
"I'm a medical student. Medicine. I'm studying to be a doctor. I am doing a medical exchange in Barcelona."
"Medicine Student. Where do you go to school?"
"University of North Carolina. I worked at Val De'Bron Hospital in Barcelona for my exchange."
"How come you are in Europe?"
"I flew to Spai…..Espana"
"You flew from Jordan to Spain."
"No from New York to Spain."
"New York to Spain. So you live New York?"
"NO. I live in North Carolina where I go to school."
"You flew New York to Spain."
"Yes."
"You don't have stamp."
"I have a Schengan Visa" I pointed to my passport. "It is okay for Greece. Wait you mean an exit stamp from New York?"
"No you don't have stamp, you have different stamp." He shows me the stamp I got when I entered the EU on a connecting flight through Brussels, Belgium.
Oh my god dude! I connected through Brussels. I spent all of 60 minutes there. Seriously? I explained this to him, the whole time trying to keep track of where my Green Card and Passport was. He tells me to wait and motions in the directions of the seats, but I told him okay and stayed right there where I could see what he was doing with my documentation. Everything is running through my head like what is this guy doing? Is he copying my info so he can create forged documents to get into the States? Is he going to run off with my stuff? Am I going to be detained? I just have to keep watching my stuff. After 10 minutes he asks me to have a seat because he has to "check something. " A phrase I had gotten really tired of. I went over to the seats and picked the one that had a clear line of sight behind the desk so that both I could see and that he could know that I was watching him. WTF? I have no idea what's going on? Internally, my heart is pounding. My brain is racing. What should I do? I see him go over to the phone and make some phone calls. As I'm waiting, I see these two average guys on motorcycles pull up they are both dressed normally and both walk into the terminal. They immediately head over to the officer that has my stuff and swarm around him. I don' t know what I though of this but I suddenly got the idea to take out my phone and pretend like I was looking at it but instead try to take pictures of what was going on. As soon as I pulled my phone out to take pictures one of the plain clothed guys comes over to me and says stand up and put your bag on the desk. He pulls out some gloves and puts them over his hands. "Take everything out of your pockets and put it on the table." All my money, credit cards, everything I had was laid out in front of me. "Do you have anything illegal in here?" "Why are you in Greece?" He pulls out a copy I had made of my passport and green card that I had hid in my pack in case I lost my documentation. "Why do you have copies of this?" I explained it was in case I lost my stuff, but then I thought it would be a good idea to tell him I had copies online so that he wouldn't try anything funny (total bluff). He proceeds to take everything out of my bag and put it on the table. After finishing, he give me the pat down. Convinced that I wasn't going to blow up the ferry he tells me to put everything back in my bag. The other officer handed me my green card and passport and I quickly put them in my back pocket and buttoned it. They went outside to smoke and as soon as they were out of sight I pulled the green card back out to make sure it wasn't a copy. Ten minutes later as I was packing up my life back into my bag, the original officer walked over and says me its just a security procedure. I was totally silent but in my mind, I'm thinking how should I end this, should I tell him how jacked up this was or just let it slide? He told me his wife was detained in New York over the same stuff. He thanked me for being so calm during the process, which I very much was externally (not internally). I smiled at him and said, "It's funny but maybe in Spain or Italy, I would've expected this, but because Arabs and Greeks are so similar in culture, physical appearance, and even food, I totally didn't see it coming from Greece." I extended my hand to give him a hand shake (which is quite symbolic, because handshakes come from people showing they are unarmed). He shook my hand and I walked out toward the ferry.
Feeling home free, I went to board the ship. As I got to the entrance, one of the plain clothed guys from before had changed shirts and was now standing there checking people in. "Passport?" he says to me. Seriously? I'm thinking. This has got to be some kind of elaborate operation these guys are running. Meanwhile, as I'm standing there, five white guys roll right by me and board the ship without even getting asked who they were. "You saw me just in the terminal." I told him a lit frustrated but to make the point that I knew who he was. He let me pass after radioing in his walkie talkie. Unnerved, I finally walked onto the ship, and as I was rolling past this guy who was behind a desk inside the entrance to the ship, I heard him say "Passport, please?" This is where my breaking point was and just then he radioed the guy from outside who came in and told him to let me pass. I said thank you and the guy mentioned something about Greece. I told him that this was my first time but that if this is how it was going to be I didn't think I would ever be coming back. It was a total lie because the country was beautiful, but this was my form of venting and retaliation. I had to have it because in the end: I'm only human!
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Sunday, July 11, 2010
(Roma, Italia) Sorry Mr.Arab man, You can't board!
Flying to back to Spain for the Running of the Bulls and for the World Cup Championship Game seemed like a great idea, I swear! That was until I showed up to the airport. When I tried to check in, they told me they couldn't find me. An hour later, and after having already missed my flight, I was informed that I was cancelled off of my flight. That’s right: My flight wasn't cancelled, I was just cancelled off of it. They said it was because I used a "strange credit card from the United States, and they are very strict." I used a Wachovia Visa, WTF? Anyway, I got sent to the consult desk to try to straighten out the situation. And boy did they ever. The lady there told me that my original ticket will be automatically refunded and that I could buy a new ticket for 127 Euros (about 15 Euros more than the original price). Okay no problem, its kind of lame, but I just want to get back to Spain. Handed her my card and she ran it. Five minutes later she is like "Oh, I have to charge you another 80 Euros." Hell NO! I may be Palestinian but a man can only take so much punishment. I told her to just refund me the money and I was going to figure something else out. She proceeds to charge my card again (and I found out later again, she triple charged me). Then she pulled out the manual to the credit card machine and started reading it trying to figure out how to do a refund. I've said it before in my blog posts and I'll say it again: "THIS IS NOT GOOD". An hour and a half later, she had managed to do one return and then gave me another one in cash. I didn't know she had charged me a third time at that point. I walked away from the desk and blotted straight for the pay phone so that I could call my credit card company. They have a number on the back and you can call them collect if you're outside of the US. What could happen in this situation? Yeah they refused my call. Three times! Why? This is why you put the number on the back of the card for situations like this. Oh well! So needless to say I will not be watching the world cup in Madrid.
The night ended with me at a left wing political reggae concert in Roma with a bunch of people smoking the mary jane!
Holla atchya Mallah Mon!
The night ended with me at a left wing political reggae concert in Roma with a bunch of people smoking the mary jane!
Holla atchya Mallah Mon!
(Lilongwe, Malawi) Just call me DJ T$
I think that it’s been awhile. I feel like my time here is soon coming to an end because I only have about 3 more weeks left. It will be interesting to leave here and go back. I’m curious to see what sayings I will keep during my first few weeks back. I definitely feel like saying “fast, fast” won’t die (this is just because I love it so much).
I had an amazing vacation this past weekend. Because of the fact that Fourth of July was on a Sunday, we were given Monday off from work. We also had Tuesday off because it was the Malawian Independence day. (If you’re keeping score that’s a 4-day weekend. ) We decided to go to northern Malawi to see the beach there because we’d heard so many amazing things about it. Best decision of the summer!
We ended up in a town called Nkhata Bay, and stayed at this beautiful hostel-type place. It was more of a rocky beach than a sandy one, but I found this place to be so gorgeous. Everywhere I looked there was one beautiful view after another. I was an idiot though and forgot to charge my camera battery before we left so I was only able to take about 6 pictures. Hopefully, my house mates will take pity on me and let me get some of their snaps.
The place where we stayed is called Mayoka Village. The owners have this quote painted in the common area that says, “I’ve always hated private life…I grew up in a home where everyone at every time was welcomed.” This pretty much sums up the atmosphere of the place. At all times of the day, people are just in the common area (an outdoor, covered bar with pool tables, couches and tables) hanging out, talking and napping. There's swimming, hiking and other activities available. We stayed in a 3-bed chalet overlooking the water with a communal shower and toilet.
By the end of the first night, we met some other cool people (and yes, by other I meant people as cool as me) who were staying there. Our Mayoka village family ended up being 4 Swedes (2 girls + 2 guys), a Canadian (insert joke here), and another American. I had so much fun with these people. It was great. On American Independence day, we decided to have a party there. By some stroke of both luck and genius, I got to be the DJ. You have absolutely no idea how much I enjoyed this. Instead of two turntables and a microphone, picture me with two Ipods and a stereo rocking the house. I was behind the bar and people were coming up to request songs. For the rest of the time that I was there, people were coming up to me telling me how awesome a DJ I was. Yep, DJ T$ is on the scene!
So, I left Nkhata Bay as not only a famous DJ, but also a master whittler. There was a course available where a local carver would show you how to carve. Obviously, I was a natural. Not really, it took me 3.5 hours to carve these two little key chains (which turned out amazing). At the end, I asked the carver how long it would have taken him to do it. He replied, with a smile, about 20 minutes.
I had an amazing vacation this past weekend. Because of the fact that Fourth of July was on a Sunday, we were given Monday off from work. We also had Tuesday off because it was the Malawian Independence day. (If you’re keeping score that’s a 4-day weekend. ) We decided to go to northern Malawi to see the beach there because we’d heard so many amazing things about it. Best decision of the summer!
We ended up in a town called Nkhata Bay, and stayed at this beautiful hostel-type place. It was more of a rocky beach than a sandy one, but I found this place to be so gorgeous. Everywhere I looked there was one beautiful view after another. I was an idiot though and forgot to charge my camera battery before we left so I was only able to take about 6 pictures. Hopefully, my house mates will take pity on me and let me get some of their snaps.
The place where we stayed is called Mayoka Village. The owners have this quote painted in the common area that says, “I’ve always hated private life…I grew up in a home where everyone at every time was welcomed.” This pretty much sums up the atmosphere of the place. At all times of the day, people are just in the common area (an outdoor, covered bar with pool tables, couches and tables) hanging out, talking and napping. There's swimming, hiking and other activities available. We stayed in a 3-bed chalet overlooking the water with a communal shower and toilet.
By the end of the first night, we met some other cool people (and yes, by other I meant people as cool as me) who were staying there. Our Mayoka village family ended up being 4 Swedes (2 girls + 2 guys), a Canadian (insert joke here), and another American. I had so much fun with these people. It was great. On American Independence day, we decided to have a party there. By some stroke of both luck and genius, I got to be the DJ. You have absolutely no idea how much I enjoyed this. Instead of two turntables and a microphone, picture me with two Ipods and a stereo rocking the house. I was behind the bar and people were coming up to request songs. For the rest of the time that I was there, people were coming up to me telling me how awesome a DJ I was. Yep, DJ T$ is on the scene!
So, I left Nkhata Bay as not only a famous DJ, but also a master whittler. There was a course available where a local carver would show you how to carve. Obviously, I was a natural. Not really, it took me 3.5 hours to carve these two little key chains (which turned out amazing). At the end, I asked the carver how long it would have taken him to do it. He replied, with a smile, about 20 minutes.
Saturday, July 10, 2010
(Vatican City, Vatican and Roma, Italy)
So my search for God brought me here, to Roma, and the Vatican in particular, which is where I was today. Unfortunately, God was out, so I had coffee with the Pope instead. Then when he wasn't looking I consecrated the Vatican as the new Mecca of the religion I am going to start. Not really, but I did go to the Cappella Sistina (Sistine Chapel) and witnessed the Creation of Adam by Michelangelo. Apparently Adam was white…who knew? Haha okay…I think I've used up all my sarcasm.
Roma, Italia is unique. I borrowed this guy's bike today and took an independent bike tour of the city. It seems like once I arrive in a new town in Europe the Metro workers go on strike. So they were striking today in Roma and I was pedaling. Maybe it was a good thing b/c these people live amongst so much history it's a little absurd. I mentioned to someone how little I thought of the metro system in Rome and they responded by telling me that every time they try to dig they discover a new layer of history and then have to call archeologists and start excavating it. I'm not sure how true that is but it makes sense, 3000 years of history in one city. I heard another story about some American tourists here that were acting a little crazy and jumping in a historic fountain in one of the many squares until the police asked them to kindly get out of the fountain. "Please," they said, " this fountain is older than your country."
How did I get here? Well last I wrote I was on a train headed to Sevilla from Madrid. On an impulse, when the train stopped in Cordoba I got off. I knew I would go to Cordoba eventually but I hadn't really planned this and I was without a place to sleep walking around Cordoba at midnight. It's funny how travel changes you. In the States, I'm so stressed out about the details. But there I was walking around in a strange town, where I didn't speak the language, and I didn't have a place to sleep, yet surprisingly, I wasn't worried for some reason. I turned off the main street and into some back alleys and by coincidence I walked up on a place called "Bagdad Hostel". Interesting in south Spain. This sleepy guy about my age came to the desk a few minutes after I rang the bell and told me it would be 30 euros. We started talking and a few minutes later we found out that we were both Jordanian citizens. Instantly the Arab hospitality kicks in! I love it, not to mention this is the first time that my Jordanian citizen ship actually helped with anything.
So I spent the night in Cordoba and the next day was in the Mezquita (The Great Mosque of Cordoba). If you don't know anything about this building you should hit up the Wikipedia. Lonely Planet says that the Great Mosque has been described as "the greatest visual representation of homesickness ever constructed" since it was influenced by the Great Mosque of Damascus. Now, it's like a Church Mosque Cathedral museum; I swear that makes sense. At the entrance, one of the Spaniard security guards looked at me really hard (I hadn't shaved in days so I was rolling straight terrorist style) and then he says to me, "Don't pray." haha if you know me you'll understand why that’s funny. "I don't" is what I thought but I said "No problem". Ironically enough while inside I met some girls from Durham! WTF? Small world. Mosque Churches - the place that brings people together…really!
I left The Great Mosque of Cordoba and hit the train station immediately enroute to Sevilla. This place was awesome. All the people I met were really cool and the Catedral de Sevilla supposedly houses the room where Columbus' famous voyage started and ended. They also have a false tomb for Columbus in the Catedral (he wasn't really buried there). Right in front of the Catedral is the Al-Cazar, which it took me a day to figure out that it comes from the Arabic for "The Palace". Now at the time I walked through this building it was the most beautiful building I had been in in my life. Two days later, it would be overshadowed by another building but that’s further down this long ass post. The Al-Cazar remains from when the Moors controlled Al-Andalucia (South Spain), and is now the official residence of the Spanish heads of state when they come to Al-Andalucia. Maybe it's because I have Muslim roots, but for me the experience was quite powerful (disclaimer: not in a religious sense).
I stayed in Sevilla longer than I expected so I planned to go to Granada, Spain to the Al-Hambra, see it, and then bounce the same day. BIG MISTAKE. I'm lucky I even got in b/c Al-Hambra is one of Spain's most visited sites and to be honest I didn't see half of it. Al-Hambra is what I mentioned earlier and usually overshadows Al-Cazar (which is unfortunate b/c Al-Cazar really is quite impressive, but it's true Al-Hambra is breath taking). It's quite hard to describe, but its not a building but more of a village with military barracks, a palace, and a garden. But honestly, it brought me to my knees b/c it was as if they were trying to recreate heaven on earth. The pictures don't do it justice but when you see it with your eyes it will make you awe in wonder. The level of detail ectched into the rock and the ceilings that were designed finished wood and gold to look like the stars is overwhelming. And just when you think its over you go out into the garden which is 3-4 times the size of the palace. The fortress was designed so that you can hear running water at all times regardless of where you are. Anyway, I could spend pages trying to describe it but wouldn't do it any justice so just go! Seriously!
I took a sleeper train back to Barcelona which was like dorm life all over again. There were four beds in my room and the Brazilian wanted to smoke pot so bad! The other guy was American and just traveling in Granada. He met this girl there and they hit it off so well that he bought her flowers and she stood there waving to him as the train started moving. It was like a movie.
They had a bar on the train LOL. Odd! But it was kind of cool b/c we just sat there meeting new people on a train traveling at 125 mph. Got back to Barcelona and two days later hopped on a ferry on whim that crossed the Mediterranean and landed me in Roma.
I've toured the old Roman Colosseum. Okay I know this is really not very eloquent but I can't say it any other way: That shit is older than Jesus! And I've also tried to Lasagna in Rome! It was really good but I know someone back in the States who tells me they can make it better! We'll see. That’s it for now!
So when in rome, say peace like the Romans do….Ciao!
Roma, Italia is unique. I borrowed this guy's bike today and took an independent bike tour of the city. It seems like once I arrive in a new town in Europe the Metro workers go on strike. So they were striking today in Roma and I was pedaling. Maybe it was a good thing b/c these people live amongst so much history it's a little absurd. I mentioned to someone how little I thought of the metro system in Rome and they responded by telling me that every time they try to dig they discover a new layer of history and then have to call archeologists and start excavating it. I'm not sure how true that is but it makes sense, 3000 years of history in one city. I heard another story about some American tourists here that were acting a little crazy and jumping in a historic fountain in one of the many squares until the police asked them to kindly get out of the fountain. "Please," they said, " this fountain is older than your country."
How did I get here? Well last I wrote I was on a train headed to Sevilla from Madrid. On an impulse, when the train stopped in Cordoba I got off. I knew I would go to Cordoba eventually but I hadn't really planned this and I was without a place to sleep walking around Cordoba at midnight. It's funny how travel changes you. In the States, I'm so stressed out about the details. But there I was walking around in a strange town, where I didn't speak the language, and I didn't have a place to sleep, yet surprisingly, I wasn't worried for some reason. I turned off the main street and into some back alleys and by coincidence I walked up on a place called "Bagdad Hostel". Interesting in south Spain. This sleepy guy about my age came to the desk a few minutes after I rang the bell and told me it would be 30 euros. We started talking and a few minutes later we found out that we were both Jordanian citizens. Instantly the Arab hospitality kicks in! I love it, not to mention this is the first time that my Jordanian citizen ship actually helped with anything.
So I spent the night in Cordoba and the next day was in the Mezquita (The Great Mosque of Cordoba). If you don't know anything about this building you should hit up the Wikipedia. Lonely Planet says that the Great Mosque has been described as "the greatest visual representation of homesickness ever constructed" since it was influenced by the Great Mosque of Damascus. Now, it's like a Church Mosque Cathedral museum; I swear that makes sense. At the entrance, one of the Spaniard security guards looked at me really hard (I hadn't shaved in days so I was rolling straight terrorist style) and then he says to me, "Don't pray." haha if you know me you'll understand why that’s funny. "I don't" is what I thought but I said "No problem". Ironically enough while inside I met some girls from Durham! WTF? Small world. Mosque Churches - the place that brings people together…really!
I left The Great Mosque of Cordoba and hit the train station immediately enroute to Sevilla. This place was awesome. All the people I met were really cool and the Catedral de Sevilla supposedly houses the room where Columbus' famous voyage started and ended. They also have a false tomb for Columbus in the Catedral (he wasn't really buried there). Right in front of the Catedral is the Al-Cazar, which it took me a day to figure out that it comes from the Arabic for "The Palace". Now at the time I walked through this building it was the most beautiful building I had been in in my life. Two days later, it would be overshadowed by another building but that’s further down this long ass post. The Al-Cazar remains from when the Moors controlled Al-Andalucia (South Spain), and is now the official residence of the Spanish heads of state when they come to Al-Andalucia. Maybe it's because I have Muslim roots, but for me the experience was quite powerful (disclaimer: not in a religious sense).
I stayed in Sevilla longer than I expected so I planned to go to Granada, Spain to the Al-Hambra, see it, and then bounce the same day. BIG MISTAKE. I'm lucky I even got in b/c Al-Hambra is one of Spain's most visited sites and to be honest I didn't see half of it. Al-Hambra is what I mentioned earlier and usually overshadows Al-Cazar (which is unfortunate b/c Al-Cazar really is quite impressive, but it's true Al-Hambra is breath taking). It's quite hard to describe, but its not a building but more of a village with military barracks, a palace, and a garden. But honestly, it brought me to my knees b/c it was as if they were trying to recreate heaven on earth. The pictures don't do it justice but when you see it with your eyes it will make you awe in wonder. The level of detail ectched into the rock and the ceilings that were designed finished wood and gold to look like the stars is overwhelming. And just when you think its over you go out into the garden which is 3-4 times the size of the palace. The fortress was designed so that you can hear running water at all times regardless of where you are. Anyway, I could spend pages trying to describe it but wouldn't do it any justice so just go! Seriously!
I took a sleeper train back to Barcelona which was like dorm life all over again. There were four beds in my room and the Brazilian wanted to smoke pot so bad! The other guy was American and just traveling in Granada. He met this girl there and they hit it off so well that he bought her flowers and she stood there waving to him as the train started moving. It was like a movie.
They had a bar on the train LOL. Odd! But it was kind of cool b/c we just sat there meeting new people on a train traveling at 125 mph. Got back to Barcelona and two days later hopped on a ferry on whim that crossed the Mediterranean and landed me in Roma.
I've toured the old Roman Colosseum. Okay I know this is really not very eloquent but I can't say it any other way: That shit is older than Jesus! And I've also tried to Lasagna in Rome! It was really good but I know someone back in the States who tells me they can make it better! We'll see. That’s it for now!
So when in rome, say peace like the Romans do….Ciao!
Thursday, July 1, 2010
post work happy hour.
post-working in the fields, not post my work in the clinic. this is usually only for males.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
(Kara, Togo) Helmet day!
Some of you already know this, but for those of you that don’t-I have spent the past month riding around Togo on motorcycles and commuting to work on a bicycle that I bought. Normally, at home, I love helmets, maybe even a little too much. They happen to be extremely rare in Togo, however, while motorcycles are extremely common. I kind of enjoy riding around without the helmet at this point, except when we ride up the mountain or even around town where there are many rocks. (The people that live in this region of Togo are Kabiye or Kabire, which means “people who stack rocks”. Its very rocky.) After a month of riding helmetless, however, I have a helmet! It came up with a car of people coming from Lome today. (along with my swimsuit and a cord so that I can try to upload some pictures).
In other news, I thought I might share with you all my culinary experiences here. At home, I love fufu. I was disappointed when I realized that it is not fufu season in Kara. At least I caught the end of mango season! Mangoes here are enormous and sweet and currently 40 cents each (they were 20 when I arrived, but now they are going out of season and have to be brought in from Benin, which is really close but still doubles the cost).
As it is not fufu season, it is pate/moto/mutu season. You can pretty accurately translate pate to the english word “paste.” It is literally flour and water mixed together. If youre lucky, the flour comes from corn. Mine doesn’t. Then you dip the paste in one of many sauces. I get it all the time for meals here. I was sick last week and was unable to eat very much for a few days, so they have started trying other things on me because they think I don’t like eating pate all the time. I only get it about once a day now. And I do LOVE the other food they are trying on me. For those of you who havent been to west africa, the couscous here is finer than what you find in north africa, and I’m pretty sure it comes from millet. Its delicious with spicy red sauce (tomato based, that’s all I know). You can also get it in sour yogurt and add sugar for a dessert called degue here, thiakri if you are in Senegal, and maybe other things in other places? It is also pretty delicious. Some nights, like last night, we get rice and beans! Those are good nights. Snack food here is interesting. I liked these spicy crunchy peanut butter sticks until I got sick and now I cant bring myself to eat them. I do still like their version of peanut brittle though, which is much nicer on your teeth than our version. More peanuts, less sugar (but still really sweet). There is tofu! Eaten as a snack, not as part of a meal. I eat it in the city, but was warned not to at market day in the village. It is really hard for me to turn down tofu, and the market tofu looked so good soooo…then I was sick, maybe it really was the tofu.
There is a local beer here made from sorghum that EVERYONE drinks. Even the children. Women make it at home and then sell it. If the husband wants some, he must pay for it. Its free for cermonies (which happen all the time) and at the end of a day of working in the field in the village. All of the men work one field together and then the household that they have worked for provides that evening’s beer. It doesn’t cause hangovers. A great way to drink it is to take a bite of a hot pepper, a chunk of salt, and a sip of beer. This is common in the village. Margarita anyone?
As for what I’m doing here-still working in the clinic (and actually working with things to do at this point!), playing in an orphanage (or teaching english? depends on what you want to call it), taking Wednesday afternoons off to hang out with some americans by the pool and speak english for a few hours (it is still summer vacation, right?) hitting up the mountains on the weekends, and balancing between being served by my host siblings and being friends with them on a day to day basis. Kara is still lovely.
In other news, I thought I might share with you all my culinary experiences here. At home, I love fufu. I was disappointed when I realized that it is not fufu season in Kara. At least I caught the end of mango season! Mangoes here are enormous and sweet and currently 40 cents each (they were 20 when I arrived, but now they are going out of season and have to be brought in from Benin, which is really close but still doubles the cost).
As it is not fufu season, it is pate/moto/mutu season. You can pretty accurately translate pate to the english word “paste.” It is literally flour and water mixed together. If youre lucky, the flour comes from corn. Mine doesn’t. Then you dip the paste in one of many sauces. I get it all the time for meals here. I was sick last week and was unable to eat very much for a few days, so they have started trying other things on me because they think I don’t like eating pate all the time. I only get it about once a day now. And I do LOVE the other food they are trying on me. For those of you who havent been to west africa, the couscous here is finer than what you find in north africa, and I’m pretty sure it comes from millet. Its delicious with spicy red sauce (tomato based, that’s all I know). You can also get it in sour yogurt and add sugar for a dessert called degue here, thiakri if you are in Senegal, and maybe other things in other places? It is also pretty delicious. Some nights, like last night, we get rice and beans! Those are good nights. Snack food here is interesting. I liked these spicy crunchy peanut butter sticks until I got sick and now I cant bring myself to eat them. I do still like their version of peanut brittle though, which is much nicer on your teeth than our version. More peanuts, less sugar (but still really sweet). There is tofu! Eaten as a snack, not as part of a meal. I eat it in the city, but was warned not to at market day in the village. It is really hard for me to turn down tofu, and the market tofu looked so good soooo…then I was sick, maybe it really was the tofu.
There is a local beer here made from sorghum that EVERYONE drinks. Even the children. Women make it at home and then sell it. If the husband wants some, he must pay for it. Its free for cermonies (which happen all the time) and at the end of a day of working in the field in the village. All of the men work one field together and then the household that they have worked for provides that evening’s beer. It doesn’t cause hangovers. A great way to drink it is to take a bite of a hot pepper, a chunk of salt, and a sip of beer. This is common in the village. Margarita anyone?
As for what I’m doing here-still working in the clinic (and actually working with things to do at this point!), playing in an orphanage (or teaching english? depends on what you want to call it), taking Wednesday afternoons off to hang out with some americans by the pool and speak english for a few hours (it is still summer vacation, right?) hitting up the mountains on the weekends, and balancing between being served by my host siblings and being friends with them on a day to day basis. Kara is still lovely.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
(Madrid to Cordoba, Spain) Picasso and My Booty Molestation
I felt like I was getting stale. I had been in Barcelona for almost two weeks and I didn't feel like I was doing much. Who ever said "Ain't no party like a west coast party" has apparently never been to Espana. These guys/girls get started partying when our bars back in the states close. Many of my flatmates, usually don't get home until 8am. I needed to see Barcelona. I needed to get out.
I figured if no one else was going to go, I'd fly solo. I started in La Pedrera and then went to Sagrada Familia. If you've never been to Barcelona and never heard of Antonio Gaudi, please look up pictures of these buildings. This guy was an absolute genius and the level of attention to artistic detail he put into his work is incompressible. Apparently as a child he had some sort of sickness that prevented him from going to school at an early age. His mom, to entertain him, would take him for long walks in the forest and parks. He gain such an appreciation for nature, plants, and animals that he incorporated their figures into his work.
La Pedrera by Gaudi
When I was leaving Sagrada Familia, the idea popped into my head to go to Madrid. The last train was at 9pm and I had plenty of time since I had already purchased a Global Eurail Pass for all of Europe. Arriving to the train station at 8:45 didn't seem like a bad idea, I swear! Yeah they wouldn't let me on. Between my five Spanish vocabulary words and hand gestures, I found out that I needed to have reserved ahead of time. So I ended up having to take the local (Low Speed) train that took 9 hours instead of 2.5 horus.
The Sagrada Famila by Gaudi
By the time I got to Madrid at 7:30am, I was so tired from trying to sleep folded up like a pretzel in non-reclining seats. Two espressos later, I hit Madrid starting first at the Prado museum. The Prado taught me something important: paintings of old white people really don't do it for me. I can't see what makes Rembrant a masterpiece and the other guy not so much. The Riena Sofia, Madrid's contemporary art museum, was the polar opposite. I found myself surrounded by Pablo Picassos, Salavdor Dalis, Joan Miros. I spent hours in there and came back the next day.
While walking home, I dipped into this big market place. The building it's in was designed by Effiel (same guy who designed the tower) and there were hundreds of people walking in every direction all around me. As I was walking through I felt this gentle rub on my right butt cheek. Now lets pause for a little perspective: When you're as blessed as I am with this figure that can only be described as…..well….divine, you get used to the occasional pinchy poo. But there was something strange. I turned around and saw this woman (around 25yrs old) directly behind me pull her hand back from my butt. She had the field of vision slightly covered with a brochure that she had folded open. As soon as I turned, a guy that was with her cut in front of her and they both turned off into a street vendors booth. All of this happened in a span of maybe 3 seconds. It took me a few moment to figure it out: That woman just tried to PICKPOCKET ME!!! Imagine this: Mike Mallah…..Jordanian Citizen…..without my greencard…..the shit is not good! Thankfully….she didn't get anything. I'm very very grateful (and I owe it all to my cat like reflexes!)
After calming down and returning home, I was setting up for dinner with the four people (2 from the UK, 1 from Peru, and 1 from the US) that took me in Madrid. The American, Heather, who owned the place had found some newborn, 2 or 3 day old sparrows that got separated from their parents and she was trying to nurse them. While showing them to me, we noticed that one of the little guys had broken his leg. It’s a funny thing really, when you go to medical school like we do, people expect you to know things. Since, I was the closest thing to doctor she asked me what to do. I was thinking how the F should I know? I've never treated a bird before (or a human). I figured that we should try to splint it so we used a tooth pick and some medical tape to create a bird-leg-splint.
Unfortunately, today we found out the little tyke didn't make it. In my capacity as a Trauma Surgeon, I've officially lost my first patient. Don't worry I'm talking with those closest to me and I'm trying to work through it. This is the life we chose! I make jokes but it really does suck.
Anyway, so I checked out the Royal Palace where Franco the former dictator of Espana did his oppressive business and now I'm on a train headed to Seville. I'm kind of a jackass b/c it's midnight and I have no idea where I'm staying in Seville as of now. The journey continues….and hopefully I wont be homeless.
NEXT DAY UPDATE: I walked around last night in Cordoba with my backpack for two hours. All the hotels were like 80 Euros...wtf? No wifi, no phone, no access to anything. Finally, I just started walking through really narrow back alleys and I ran up on a "Backpackers Hostel". I went in at about 2am and rang the bell waking the guy up. After introducing himself as ALI (which I then asked if he pronouced it like this 3li in the arabic) I found out he was Jordanian. We spoke in Arabic and he started lowering the price and telling me not to worry about paying at the moment. Oh Arab hospitality, there's really nothing like it. He seems like a really nice guy and he gave me a private room that was honestly cleaner than hotels in the States. Check out the Bagdad Backpackers Hostel if you're ever in Cordoba. Peace!
I figured if no one else was going to go, I'd fly solo. I started in La Pedrera and then went to Sagrada Familia. If you've never been to Barcelona and never heard of Antonio Gaudi, please look up pictures of these buildings. This guy was an absolute genius and the level of attention to artistic detail he put into his work is incompressible. Apparently as a child he had some sort of sickness that prevented him from going to school at an early age. His mom, to entertain him, would take him for long walks in the forest and parks. He gain such an appreciation for nature, plants, and animals that he incorporated their figures into his work.
La Pedrera by Gaudi
When I was leaving Sagrada Familia, the idea popped into my head to go to Madrid. The last train was at 9pm and I had plenty of time since I had already purchased a Global Eurail Pass for all of Europe. Arriving to the train station at 8:45 didn't seem like a bad idea, I swear! Yeah they wouldn't let me on. Between my five Spanish vocabulary words and hand gestures, I found out that I needed to have reserved ahead of time. So I ended up having to take the local (Low Speed) train that took 9 hours instead of 2.5 horus.
The Sagrada Famila by Gaudi
By the time I got to Madrid at 7:30am, I was so tired from trying to sleep folded up like a pretzel in non-reclining seats. Two espressos later, I hit Madrid starting first at the Prado museum. The Prado taught me something important: paintings of old white people really don't do it for me. I can't see what makes Rembrant a masterpiece and the other guy not so much. The Riena Sofia, Madrid's contemporary art museum, was the polar opposite. I found myself surrounded by Pablo Picassos, Salavdor Dalis, Joan Miros. I spent hours in there and came back the next day.
While walking home, I dipped into this big market place. The building it's in was designed by Effiel (same guy who designed the tower) and there were hundreds of people walking in every direction all around me. As I was walking through I felt this gentle rub on my right butt cheek. Now lets pause for a little perspective: When you're as blessed as I am with this figure that can only be described as…..well….divine, you get used to the occasional pinchy poo. But there was something strange. I turned around and saw this woman (around 25yrs old) directly behind me pull her hand back from my butt. She had the field of vision slightly covered with a brochure that she had folded open. As soon as I turned, a guy that was with her cut in front of her and they both turned off into a street vendors booth. All of this happened in a span of maybe 3 seconds. It took me a few moment to figure it out: That woman just tried to PICKPOCKET ME!!! Imagine this: Mike Mallah…..Jordanian Citizen…..without my greencard…..the shit is not good! Thankfully….she didn't get anything. I'm very very grateful (and I owe it all to my cat like reflexes!)
After calming down and returning home, I was setting up for dinner with the four people (2 from the UK, 1 from Peru, and 1 from the US) that took me in Madrid. The American, Heather, who owned the place had found some newborn, 2 or 3 day old sparrows that got separated from their parents and she was trying to nurse them. While showing them to me, we noticed that one of the little guys had broken his leg. It’s a funny thing really, when you go to medical school like we do, people expect you to know things. Since, I was the closest thing to doctor she asked me what to do. I was thinking how the F should I know? I've never treated a bird before (or a human). I figured that we should try to splint it so we used a tooth pick and some medical tape to create a bird-leg-splint.
Unfortunately, today we found out the little tyke didn't make it. In my capacity as a Trauma Surgeon, I've officially lost my first patient. Don't worry I'm talking with those closest to me and I'm trying to work through it. This is the life we chose! I make jokes but it really does suck.
Anyway, so I checked out the Royal Palace where Franco the former dictator of Espana did his oppressive business and now I'm on a train headed to Seville. I'm kind of a jackass b/c it's midnight and I have no idea where I'm staying in Seville as of now. The journey continues….and hopefully I wont be homeless.
NEXT DAY UPDATE: I walked around last night in Cordoba with my backpack for two hours. All the hotels were like 80 Euros...wtf? No wifi, no phone, no access to anything. Finally, I just started walking through really narrow back alleys and I ran up on a "Backpackers Hostel". I went in at about 2am and rang the bell waking the guy up. After introducing himself as ALI (which I then asked if he pronouced it like this 3li in the arabic) I found out he was Jordanian. We spoke in Arabic and he started lowering the price and telling me not to worry about paying at the moment. Oh Arab hospitality, there's really nothing like it. He seems like a really nice guy and he gave me a private room that was honestly cleaner than hotels in the States. Check out the Bagdad Backpackers Hostel if you're ever in Cordoba. Peace!
Monday, June 28, 2010
(Lilongwe, Malawi) Getting the Party Started
Pang’ono, Pang’ono (Slow by Slow)….
People here never say take your time or slowly, instead they say pang’ono, pang’ono or slow by slow. That’s sort of the way I felt that everything was going for awhile here. Well that was until my amazing weekend of fun happened.
On Friday, I convinced the undergrads to make me Chambo tacos (fish tacos) because the chambo here is soooo good. It’s so easy to make amazing dinners here because of all the produce that’s available. We had homemade tortillas, guacamole, salsa and then (of course) rice and Malawian beans. Imagine all this while enjoying a good boxed white wine….I know, I’m so classy. After, eating I told everyone that if I had to stay in the house for another night I was going to die. Even though they were tired, the undergrads agreed to go out with me. We decided to go to the nightclub inside the casino. I played a little black jack and then we danced until 3am. It was the best time!
The next morning, we drove to Dedza. (It’s a small town about an hour away.) They are known for their mountain and their pottery (it’s considered the pottery capital of Malawi). After eating brunch and buying a little pottery we headed to the mountain. This for me was an epic FAIL! I was able to struggle up the mountain in Nchitsi, but not Dedza. So, while all of my friends climbed I went back and waited at the lodge and watched a little World Cup action. We drove back just in time for Mariah’s going away party at the Italian restaurant. Delicious! Of course, we went to the bar afterwards to watch the US play…we all know how much of an epic fail that was. It was good that we lost though because if not I think we wouldn’t have been able to go to any other bars to watch soccer because every single Malawian would’ve hated us. There was even a fight at the bar (of course the American had to be the a-hole). I, originally, thought that we would go out this night too, but it was just too sad and I wanted to go home.
Earlier in the week I’d been invited to go to a concert of a local band, The Black Missionaries, by a guy in one of the labs. The concert was scheduled to go from 2p-8p. I was a little nervous about staying at this concert for 6 hours, but when we got there it was just great. We sat in lawn chairs for the first couple of bands. By the time it was dark, The Blacks came on. I couldn’t understand the lyrics because they were in Chichewa, but it was some of the best live reggae I have ever seen. We danced for hours and the band ended up playing until 9pm. It was the best time I have had since I got here. Also, apparently every Malawian I have met since getting here was at the concert as well. People just kept coming up to me and saying I’ve seen you walking around town. I think it’s just because I am the tallest woman (or person) here.
People here never say take your time or slowly, instead they say pang’ono, pang’ono or slow by slow. That’s sort of the way I felt that everything was going for awhile here. Well that was until my amazing weekend of fun happened.
On Friday, I convinced the undergrads to make me Chambo tacos (fish tacos) because the chambo here is soooo good. It’s so easy to make amazing dinners here because of all the produce that’s available. We had homemade tortillas, guacamole, salsa and then (of course) rice and Malawian beans. Imagine all this while enjoying a good boxed white wine….I know, I’m so classy. After, eating I told everyone that if I had to stay in the house for another night I was going to die. Even though they were tired, the undergrads agreed to go out with me. We decided to go to the nightclub inside the casino. I played a little black jack and then we danced until 3am. It was the best time!
The next morning, we drove to Dedza. (It’s a small town about an hour away.) They are known for their mountain and their pottery (it’s considered the pottery capital of Malawi). After eating brunch and buying a little pottery we headed to the mountain. This for me was an epic FAIL! I was able to struggle up the mountain in Nchitsi, but not Dedza. So, while all of my friends climbed I went back and waited at the lodge and watched a little World Cup action. We drove back just in time for Mariah’s going away party at the Italian restaurant. Delicious! Of course, we went to the bar afterwards to watch the US play…we all know how much of an epic fail that was. It was good that we lost though because if not I think we wouldn’t have been able to go to any other bars to watch soccer because every single Malawian would’ve hated us. There was even a fight at the bar (of course the American had to be the a-hole). I, originally, thought that we would go out this night too, but it was just too sad and I wanted to go home.
Earlier in the week I’d been invited to go to a concert of a local band, The Black Missionaries, by a guy in one of the labs. The concert was scheduled to go from 2p-8p. I was a little nervous about staying at this concert for 6 hours, but when we got there it was just great. We sat in lawn chairs for the first couple of bands. By the time it was dark, The Blacks came on. I couldn’t understand the lyrics because they were in Chichewa, but it was some of the best live reggae I have ever seen. We danced for hours and the band ended up playing until 9pm. It was the best time I have had since I got here. Also, apparently every Malawian I have met since getting here was at the concert as well. People just kept coming up to me and saying I’ve seen you walking around town. I think it’s just because I am the tallest woman (or person) here.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
(Guatemala City, Guatemala) - And there I was...
...face squashed as if against glass except this was no window. We were on a "chicken bus" headed back to Guatemala City and my face was buried about three inches into a lovely Guatemalan woman's great belly. Awesome. On my other side was an unfortunate middle aged man, about my size, who I was gouging with my shoulder. Hey, I was lucky to have a seat. The chicken bus in Guatemala is a chaos of sights, smells and sounds (and often some unpleasant personal space dilemmas). These buses are old US school buses that have been pimped out in crazy colors and chrome. The drivers could probably all be committed for their maniacle driving practices: turns are taken at break neck speed and stops are always last minute and whiplash inducing. The blaring horn can mean several things: hi! I'm stopping to pick you up! or Watch out I'm coming up behind you and don't want to stop! My favorite person on a chicken bus however is the doorman. Often adolescent or young adult, this guy hangs out of the door yelling the bus's destination as the bus starts to slow. "A Guate aguateaguateaguateeeee!" It's great. You no more get both feet in the aisle and the bus is speeding away and throwing you toward a seat (maybe) or maybe just into someone's lap. Last weekend I especially liked the doorman because he would say to everyone as they got on and tried to adjust and sardine themselves in "Adelante jovenes! Que pasan por el medioooo!" Roughly, "move along kids! go on down the centerrr!" Of course several of the patrons were little old men and women in traditional Guatemalan dress and not jovenes at all.
I'm now three weeks into Guatemala City and life is pretty good. So far I have achieved a good deal at work, traveled on two of my weekends, and had my requisite stomach bug. Good part is I was only sick for 48hrs. Bad parts were 1. I was in a hostel (probably worse for all the other people) and 2. I was in Antigua which required a 45 minute chicken bus commute to get home (see above explanation). I'm sure there's some way it could have been worse.
Work here has been enlightening and of course trying. There's always that road block where you see how things are supposed to go so clearly in your mind's eye and yet nothing around you makes it happen that way. You told the lady that does data management how to enter the data and what you need her to do and yet when you go to work with her the following week she has no idea how to do any of it and hasn't started on anything. This is called patience-building.
This past weekend I traveled with two girlfriends to Lake Atitlan which is actually a crater of a HUGE volcano. Today there are 3 volcanoes that sit on the south side of the lake, and it's surrounded by little towns. Not only is the place beautiful, but it's super fun to get around. (seems transportation may be my favorite thing in Guatemala, go figure) So to get to any of the towns around the lake you can hire a boat to take you or go on public boats. They're really fun and generally comfortable until afternoon comes along and the wind whips up. That's about the time you arrive at your destination completely soaked. The other fun transportation at Lake Atitlan is the Tuk-tuk which is a three-wheeled, motorized, covered scooter with a bench seat in the back that holds 4 Guatemalans and all their stuff or 2-3 uncomfortable Americans, depending on size. Tuk-tuks are super cheap and zip around the narrow streets of the old villages much more easily than cars do. One of my favorite things we did while at the lake was visit the evil saint Maximon (pronounced Mah- she- mohn). This little wooden guy gets moved to a different house each year and his whereabouts are known only by the people of the town because he's always in a private house. We paid our 13y/o buddy Miguel to take us to see Maximon and the legend he told us was this: Maximon is considered an evil spirit, but he is sought out often. He wears many scarves which are gifts from people who have come to visit him. Each time you pray to Maximon you may receive a result which is "por lo bueno" (for the good) and one which is "por lo malo" for the bad. For instance, if someone is making you mad and you go and light a black candle for Maximon, something bad will happen to that person. (we weren't given an example of a good thing that could happen...hmmm) Also if you are sick, you have a couple of options with Maximon. This little guy is known to smoke and to drink. Thus if you bring him a cigarette or a cigar he will come to you at night and blow the smoke to make you better (generally stomach ailments). You can also bring him 'aguardiente' (firewater) and he'll drink it and make you better. Once you have prayed to Maximon he is always with you, and he can come to your house while you sleep and tell you the future in your dreams. Pretty great. So we went and saw Maximon and he's wayyy back in a cement room with a low ceiling, in the dark and surrounded by candles. There is a guy guarding him at all times and there was another old man outside swinging a censer. Very mystic. Maximon himself is only about waist high and wears a really great hat and some fancy shoes. He's got gillions of scarves tied around his neck and several cigarettes in his offering plate. To see him we had to pay 2 quetzales (about 25cents). I didn't ask for anything, but that was because I hadn't yet met the super annoying women that were on our shuttle back to the city. If I had known I would meet those girls I would definitely have lit a black candle in their honor.
At the risk of becoming boring I'll just leave it at that. Happy travels and home-staying everyone!!
I'm now three weeks into Guatemala City and life is pretty good. So far I have achieved a good deal at work, traveled on two of my weekends, and had my requisite stomach bug. Good part is I was only sick for 48hrs. Bad parts were 1. I was in a hostel (probably worse for all the other people) and 2. I was in Antigua which required a 45 minute chicken bus commute to get home (see above explanation). I'm sure there's some way it could have been worse.
Work here has been enlightening and of course trying. There's always that road block where you see how things are supposed to go so clearly in your mind's eye and yet nothing around you makes it happen that way. You told the lady that does data management how to enter the data and what you need her to do and yet when you go to work with her the following week she has no idea how to do any of it and hasn't started on anything. This is called patience-building.
This past weekend I traveled with two girlfriends to Lake Atitlan which is actually a crater of a HUGE volcano. Today there are 3 volcanoes that sit on the south side of the lake, and it's surrounded by little towns. Not only is the place beautiful, but it's super fun to get around. (seems transportation may be my favorite thing in Guatemala, go figure) So to get to any of the towns around the lake you can hire a boat to take you or go on public boats. They're really fun and generally comfortable until afternoon comes along and the wind whips up. That's about the time you arrive at your destination completely soaked. The other fun transportation at Lake Atitlan is the Tuk-tuk which is a three-wheeled, motorized, covered scooter with a bench seat in the back that holds 4 Guatemalans and all their stuff or 2-3 uncomfortable Americans, depending on size. Tuk-tuks are super cheap and zip around the narrow streets of the old villages much more easily than cars do. One of my favorite things we did while at the lake was visit the evil saint Maximon (pronounced Mah- she- mohn). This little wooden guy gets moved to a different house each year and his whereabouts are known only by the people of the town because he's always in a private house. We paid our 13y/o buddy Miguel to take us to see Maximon and the legend he told us was this: Maximon is considered an evil spirit, but he is sought out often. He wears many scarves which are gifts from people who have come to visit him. Each time you pray to Maximon you may receive a result which is "por lo bueno" (for the good) and one which is "por lo malo" for the bad. For instance, if someone is making you mad and you go and light a black candle for Maximon, something bad will happen to that person. (we weren't given an example of a good thing that could happen...hmmm) Also if you are sick, you have a couple of options with Maximon. This little guy is known to smoke and to drink. Thus if you bring him a cigarette or a cigar he will come to you at night and blow the smoke to make you better (generally stomach ailments). You can also bring him 'aguardiente' (firewater) and he'll drink it and make you better. Once you have prayed to Maximon he is always with you, and he can come to your house while you sleep and tell you the future in your dreams. Pretty great. So we went and saw Maximon and he's wayyy back in a cement room with a low ceiling, in the dark and surrounded by candles. There is a guy guarding him at all times and there was another old man outside swinging a censer. Very mystic. Maximon himself is only about waist high and wears a really great hat and some fancy shoes. He's got gillions of scarves tied around his neck and several cigarettes in his offering plate. To see him we had to pay 2 quetzales (about 25cents). I didn't ask for anything, but that was because I hadn't yet met the super annoying women that were on our shuttle back to the city. If I had known I would meet those girls I would definitely have lit a black candle in their honor.
At the risk of becoming boring I'll just leave it at that. Happy travels and home-staying everyone!!
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
(Parma, Itally) - Randomness
This was sent to my family also, so you don't know some of the people, but just play along...
Last night Marialisa was telling me about the Bob Dylan concert that was in Parco Ducale last Thursday and I realized and interesting coincidence. I did not mention this earlier, it did not seem too important, but on my way to the train station to go to Cinque Terre last week a big, tan, luxury car pooled over on a major street I was walking by. The passenger stuck his head out the window and asked in native English “Where’s Parco Ducale?” I was a bit surprised, no one in Parma speaks English, much less without the quirky Italian accent, this guy got lucky that he just happened to ask me, the only other native English speaker in town. After a few seconds of switching back into English mode I responded and gave him directions, which I realized later were actually not very good directions (maybe he wasn’t so lucky…). I told this to Giulia, and when she was talking to Marialisa about the concert, she mentioned how Bob Dylan showed up in a big, light brown luxury car. We got to talking and our descriptions matched up pretty good. I looked up some pictures, and though I can’t be 100% sure, I think I gave Bob Dylan the wrong directions to Parco Ducale, he seemed in a hurry, and Marialisa said he was late and flustered when he got there.
Monday, June 21, 2010
(Gerona, Spain) - From Old People Dancing to Gerona
10 AM
Sitting on the Renfe train provides for excellent blogging time :) Five of my flatmates and I are currently headed from Barcelona to Gerona, a small city to the north. Even further north of Gerona is a city called Figueres where Salvador Dali was born. The train gives you an amazing view of the countryside.
(Gulchen, Erida, Maurice, Milan, Genny)
Yesterday, we decided to go to the beach near Barceloneta. I didn't take anything with me because I wanted to run the shore line. No camera, no laptop, no phone, nothing. Yeah, we ended up not going to the beach at all but instead we saw all these amazing things and met amazing people and I couldn't get photos of any of it.
Milan, a 25 yo Serbian medical student, walked around with me in Barri Gotic (the Gothic Quarter) admiring all the architecture. He told me a little bit about his life as a child when NATO was bombing all of Serbia. For forty days they didn't go to school and all the neighborhood kids would gather around in a basement. He said back then he really enjoyed it b/c he didn't understand what was going on. A child's innocence is a fragile thing really (but that’s another post and conversation that we should have). He explained a little bit about former Yugoslavia and the breakup into Serbia, Bosnia, Herzegovina, Montenegro, Kosovo, Macedonia. I didn't get all of it but I guess this is what I was seeking in traveling. Through my encounter with Milan, now I have a reason to know. A place in my mind to place this information.
As we were walking we happened upon a music festival in one of the city squares. We saw these old Catalonians dancing the Sardanista dance and Maurice mentioned how it looked like they were barely moving.
It turns out that it is actually a very complicated Catalonian dance. Once we listened to the beat, it was really hard to stay on the '1' beat. And some how it cycles 33 times before the steps change (and the steps change 3 times). I still actually don’t know how to explain it.
We walked through the park….
***BREAK***
8 PM
WOW…Okay so we arrived at Gerona way faster than I thought we would and I had to stop midsentence to get off the train. I'm back on the train headed back to Barcelona now. What a beautiful day it has been. We arrived in Gerona totally and completely lost. As we walked out of the train station, we had no idea which way was north or south. The group was excited about this river that we kept hearing about but when we got there the "river" was a foot deep and three feet wide. I guess they were having a drought or something b/c it wasn't impressive.
A few meters away (yes meters…apparently that’s what these crazies use here?!?!?...like that makes sense) we saw the beginning of the roman city wall that runs around the perimeter of Old Gerona. You can walk along the city wall and make a complete circle around the city. The ledge were you walk is narrow but elevated and they had little slits that I'm assuming archers would use to defend the city in the distant past. On one side of the wall you can look and see the whole city and on the other side you can look out onto what long ago would be where the enemies would be coming from.
It was very much like a castle to me, yet this wall defended the city. The walls and stones used to make the steps up and down the city wall and city streets were "rough" compared to what we have today. But at the same time it was really precise and you could tell that it was made with a lot of care. As we walked, I wondered about how many men would have died trying to breach these walls to take the city. To my limited knowledge, I know this city was taken at least twice: once by the Muslims when they took over Spain and pushed into France, and once when it was reclaimed by the Christians. So how many men? Our trip was very fleeting and we flew through the city in one day but how many men spent there lives building this place and how many men died attacking and defending this small city that I had never heard of before two days ago. I guess its more profound if you're here.
We moved towards the center of the old city and found the Cathedral that was build over the place where a Masjid used to be. Oh My God….there was so much Christianity around me (<---get it?). La Catedral de Gerona was maybe the second Cathedral that I have been in my life so the grandeur and attention to detail in the architecture was overwhelming. Its also a building that is at least 1000 years old (I'll look it up once I get some wifi in my life). From the dimly lit Cathedral, I walked out back into the sunlight and onto the steps that led up to its massive doors. As Mike Mallah, I felt that there was only one thing to do in this historically Christian place…I played the Islamic Call to Prayer on my iPhone. I swear to God (hehe) this was not planned, but right then the church bells started to chime. Oh its so good to be me :)
We followed it up with a meal from a corner restaurant where we met some Peruvian students from London who were sight seeing (Shout out to Dan, Claudia, and Ginny…I told them all about you). And now to Barcelona.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
(Lilongwe, Malawi) - It's Time for Africa
I have arrived! It was a long journey to get here, but the plane ride wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. My flight itinerary:
1. Raleigh to Washington DC
2. Washington DC to Rome, Italy
3. Rome, Italy to Addis Ababa, Ethiopia
4. Addis Ababa, Ethiopia to Lilongwe, Malawi
The reason that my flights weren’t so bad is also primarily due to the fact that I slept on all of them (even the short one from RDU to D.C.). On my super long flight I ended up sitting beside this really cool man who was on his way to Ethiopia because he and his wife were adopting a set of twins from the country. One of the twins is currently sick with bacterial meningitis (if you pray…) and he was going to go and be with “his son” during this difficult time. It was also the first time he would see his new kids. The couple already had an adopted girl and boy from Korea.
When I first saw my itinerary I was excited to have a layover in Rome, but much to my chagrin it was a just one of those things where we land and they refuel the plane and clean the bathroom. So, the only Italians I saw were the ones that cleaned the bathroom. (And yes, one of them was a little bit sexy even in his green jumpsuit.)
Okay, if you ever have to fly Ethiopian Air just know that they are a little bit crazy. Fun facts about Ethiopian Air:
1. If you are at the ticket counter, depending on their mood, they may or may not give you a boarding pass for all of your flights. If they don’t it is because “you’re just going to miss the flight anyway” or “you don’t need it.”
2. When you get to your destination and don’t have the boarding pass for the next flight, they will ask you why you didn’t get one (angrily) and then handwrite one for you on the spot.
3. The biggest thing was that after we got off the plane in Ethiopia there was only 20 minutes before our next flight was scheduled to leave. So, we were in a huge hurry to get to the next plane. We get off and there’s a guy that asks everyone where they are going and we tell him Lilongwe, and he immediately says, “STOP!” He continues to let other people go on and anyone going to Malawi has to just stop and stand in the hallway. He won’t explain anything to us, so we were all thinking that we were going to be detained or something. Then, 40 minutes later they escort us all to our plane.
We finally arrived and got to the guest house where I will be staying for the next 2 months. It’s a really nice house. (I will try and upload pics soon) It’s divided into 2 sides and each has 4 bedrooms and their own kitchens. We have a maid named Joyce, and she has a helper. It is, maybe, one block from the hospital where I will do my research project, but kinda far from everything else. I plan on learning to drive a stick soon because we have a guest house car and I don’t want to be stranded at the house all the time. It is pretty crazy to drive around here but I want to try it at least a couple of times before I go. There are no traffic lights or street lights, and so you have to be pretty aggressive.
Because of the huge time change (+ 6 hours) we decided it was best if we stayed up on Friday when we got in. This was hard!! I did eat some delicious Indian food at a local restaurant and we went to a bar because one of the Irish doctors was leaving the next day and had a celebration. There is a huge ex-patriot scene here. It’s sort of weird and I haven’t decided how I feel about it yet. At this Malawian bar, there were like 40 of us and not a single Malawian hanging with the group. They do have some fun activities like group runs, hashes, Frisbee, and a volleyball league. I think I might participate in some of this, but I think that I really want to spend some time getting to know some locals. I’m hoping that the guys that I work with in the lab will be really fun.
So today, I slept for about 10 hours and then got up and went for a run. The weather is so perfect (highs of 70-75 and lows 50-55). We also went to the open market to get fresh fruits and vegetables. I also bought two pieces of fabric called chitenge. It’s just fabric that women wrap around them as skirts. We also have a tailor coming on Monday and he’ll be able to make us really nice dresses. I have seen some of his work and I thought it was from a department store. I’m soooo excited about getting a dress made. We also went to the grocery store. To my surprise, it is exactly like Harris Teeter or Food Lion. The only difference is paying in Kwacha. I bought Kellogg’s Corn Flakes (the Special K was too expensive by my new Malawi standards), snacks and soda.
Getting kwacha from your U.S. dollars is kind of shady/exciting. You can go to the bank, but the exchange rate there is only about $1= 140 kwacha. If you do it on the street, you can get a rate of $1= 175 kwacha. Needless to say, I decided to go to a street seller. It’s kind of like buying drugs, but it’s sorta-legal. So, the proper custom to do this: you pull up in this parking lot and the guy comes over and asks how money you want to exchange, you tell him and he calculates the kwacha and hands you the money in 5,000 kwacha stacks to count. After verifying it’s the right amount, you hand him your American dollars. Now, I’m pretty sure that this money ends up on the black market somewhere but I think helping to improve the hospitals here is my penance.
Timica
This is a kind of old post because I'd already started on another site. I will get them all posted soon.
1. Raleigh to Washington DC
2. Washington DC to Rome, Italy
3. Rome, Italy to Addis Ababa, Ethiopia
4. Addis Ababa, Ethiopia to Lilongwe, Malawi
The reason that my flights weren’t so bad is also primarily due to the fact that I slept on all of them (even the short one from RDU to D.C.). On my super long flight I ended up sitting beside this really cool man who was on his way to Ethiopia because he and his wife were adopting a set of twins from the country. One of the twins is currently sick with bacterial meningitis (if you pray…) and he was going to go and be with “his son” during this difficult time. It was also the first time he would see his new kids. The couple already had an adopted girl and boy from Korea.
When I first saw my itinerary I was excited to have a layover in Rome, but much to my chagrin it was a just one of those things where we land and they refuel the plane and clean the bathroom. So, the only Italians I saw were the ones that cleaned the bathroom. (And yes, one of them was a little bit sexy even in his green jumpsuit.)
Okay, if you ever have to fly Ethiopian Air just know that they are a little bit crazy. Fun facts about Ethiopian Air:
1. If you are at the ticket counter, depending on their mood, they may or may not give you a boarding pass for all of your flights. If they don’t it is because “you’re just going to miss the flight anyway” or “you don’t need it.”
2. When you get to your destination and don’t have the boarding pass for the next flight, they will ask you why you didn’t get one (angrily) and then handwrite one for you on the spot.
3. The biggest thing was that after we got off the plane in Ethiopia there was only 20 minutes before our next flight was scheduled to leave. So, we were in a huge hurry to get to the next plane. We get off and there’s a guy that asks everyone where they are going and we tell him Lilongwe, and he immediately says, “STOP!” He continues to let other people go on and anyone going to Malawi has to just stop and stand in the hallway. He won’t explain anything to us, so we were all thinking that we were going to be detained or something. Then, 40 minutes later they escort us all to our plane.
We finally arrived and got to the guest house where I will be staying for the next 2 months. It’s a really nice house. (I will try and upload pics soon) It’s divided into 2 sides and each has 4 bedrooms and their own kitchens. We have a maid named Joyce, and she has a helper. It is, maybe, one block from the hospital where I will do my research project, but kinda far from everything else. I plan on learning to drive a stick soon because we have a guest house car and I don’t want to be stranded at the house all the time. It is pretty crazy to drive around here but I want to try it at least a couple of times before I go. There are no traffic lights or street lights, and so you have to be pretty aggressive.
Because of the huge time change (+ 6 hours) we decided it was best if we stayed up on Friday when we got in. This was hard!! I did eat some delicious Indian food at a local restaurant and we went to a bar because one of the Irish doctors was leaving the next day and had a celebration. There is a huge ex-patriot scene here. It’s sort of weird and I haven’t decided how I feel about it yet. At this Malawian bar, there were like 40 of us and not a single Malawian hanging with the group. They do have some fun activities like group runs, hashes, Frisbee, and a volleyball league. I think I might participate in some of this, but I think that I really want to spend some time getting to know some locals. I’m hoping that the guys that I work with in the lab will be really fun.
So today, I slept for about 10 hours and then got up and went for a run. The weather is so perfect (highs of 70-75 and lows 50-55). We also went to the open market to get fresh fruits and vegetables. I also bought two pieces of fabric called chitenge. It’s just fabric that women wrap around them as skirts. We also have a tailor coming on Monday and he’ll be able to make us really nice dresses. I have seen some of his work and I thought it was from a department store. I’m soooo excited about getting a dress made. We also went to the grocery store. To my surprise, it is exactly like Harris Teeter or Food Lion. The only difference is paying in Kwacha. I bought Kellogg’s Corn Flakes (the Special K was too expensive by my new Malawi standards), snacks and soda.
Getting kwacha from your U.S. dollars is kind of shady/exciting. You can go to the bank, but the exchange rate there is only about $1= 140 kwacha. If you do it on the street, you can get a rate of $1= 175 kwacha. Needless to say, I decided to go to a street seller. It’s kind of like buying drugs, but it’s sorta-legal. So, the proper custom to do this: you pull up in this parking lot and the guy comes over and asks how money you want to exchange, you tell him and he calculates the kwacha and hands you the money in 5,000 kwacha stacks to count. After verifying it’s the right amount, you hand him your American dollars. Now, I’m pretty sure that this money ends up on the black market somewhere but I think helping to improve the hospitals here is my penance.
Timica
This is a kind of old post because I'd already started on another site. I will get them all posted soon.
(Parma, Italy) - Ciao Ragazzi!
Whenever a DJ comes on the radio he says this, and it's very memorable for me, I think it's just a much cooler way of saying "hey guys!"
Anyway, I am in Parma for about a month, in Italy. I had never heard of it before, but selected it because of it's North-Central location and proximity to many other sites of interest for weekend trips. I made a great choice. The people, that speak a little english at least, are awesome, the food is amazing, and there is so much to see and just think about. The Italian version of the FDA is located here in Parma, and many very original foods originate from here. Formaggio parmagiono (parmesan cheese, which does not come in a green shake can, it is cut out of a huge wheel that has been aged for at least 24 months). Prosciutto-- ham which is most often served crudo, or raw-- I was skeptical of eating raw food after MICRO, but they do it all the time: ham, salami, even carne equina (horse) which I have not yet tried. Many of you may have heard of one of the largest milk companies in the world: Parmalat. I think their most famous export is from the University where I am doing basic molecular bio research. Hundreds of years ago the Universita degli Studi di Parma crafted the legendary neurologist we now know simply as Dr. Rustioni. I brag about this to my Italian amicos and they all sigh and say I wish I could go to America...
I got here on May 30th. Unlike Ronnie I was smart enough not to schedule my layovers too far apart. I gave myself a healthy hour at JFK. Of course my flight from RDU sat waiting for the runway to clear for 30min, so by the time I navigated through the maze of JFK (I exited the plane onto the tarmac then was corralled through a network of boot-legged fences and finally entered the building through what used to be an emergency exit only...) my plane was halfway done boarding. I made it on board the flight to Milan, I think my bags went to the Philippines because I didn't see them for 4 days. At least I got some cool, original Italian t-shirts and got to wear some of the tightest undies ever for a few days (most Italians are size Med or Small, but very generous, I didn't have to buy any clothes, at least). I was most upset that the airport told me my bags would be there in 4 hours, so I waited, hungover from the fantastic trans-Atlantic sleep while that flight's arrival was delayed and 7.5 hours after my plane had arrived, I still had no clue where my stuff was.
Besides this my trip has been great! I go on excursions on the weekend (check fb for photos if you want), and wonder why skype does not charge anything for its basic service, since it is so utterly awesome. That's enough for now though, can't give it all away here or no one will want to talk to me next year.
Anyway, I am in Parma for about a month, in Italy. I had never heard of it before, but selected it because of it's North-Central location and proximity to many other sites of interest for weekend trips. I made a great choice. The people, that speak a little english at least, are awesome, the food is amazing, and there is so much to see and just think about. The Italian version of the FDA is located here in Parma, and many very original foods originate from here. Formaggio parmagiono (parmesan cheese, which does not come in a green shake can, it is cut out of a huge wheel that has been aged for at least 24 months). Prosciutto-- ham which is most often served crudo, or raw-- I was skeptical of eating raw food after MICRO, but they do it all the time: ham, salami, even carne equina (horse) which I have not yet tried. Many of you may have heard of one of the largest milk companies in the world: Parmalat. I think their most famous export is from the University where I am doing basic molecular bio research. Hundreds of years ago the Universita degli Studi di Parma crafted the legendary neurologist we now know simply as Dr. Rustioni. I brag about this to my Italian amicos and they all sigh and say I wish I could go to America...
I got here on May 30th. Unlike Ronnie I was smart enough not to schedule my layovers too far apart. I gave myself a healthy hour at JFK. Of course my flight from RDU sat waiting for the runway to clear for 30min, so by the time I navigated through the maze of JFK (I exited the plane onto the tarmac then was corralled through a network of boot-legged fences and finally entered the building through what used to be an emergency exit only...) my plane was halfway done boarding. I made it on board the flight to Milan, I think my bags went to the Philippines because I didn't see them for 4 days. At least I got some cool, original Italian t-shirts and got to wear some of the tightest undies ever for a few days (most Italians are size Med or Small, but very generous, I didn't have to buy any clothes, at least). I was most upset that the airport told me my bags would be there in 4 hours, so I waited, hungover from the fantastic trans-Atlantic sleep while that flight's arrival was delayed and 7.5 hours after my plane had arrived, I still had no clue where my stuff was.
Besides this my trip has been great! I go on excursions on the weekend (check fb for photos if you want), and wonder why skype does not charge anything for its basic service, since it is so utterly awesome. That's enough for now though, can't give it all away here or no one will want to talk to me next year.
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