(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.

(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!

(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.

(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!!

(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.

(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.

(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.

(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.

(Kara, Togo) - hello from togo

Hi everyone-mostly people I dont know. I posted the following on another group blog, and was thinking I would post it here too until I realized that I dont know most the people that will read it...but, I am in Togo, and I appreciate interesting stories from everyone else, so here you go anyway. Nice to meet you all.

(just fyi-im living in northern togo, at the foot of a mountain range, in a city called kara, working with an hiv clinic. also spending time in the villages around here in the valley and one up a mountain. the following post is about staying in the mountains when im up there. usually i stay in the city in a house with a shower and a toilet and 8 other people. granted, the toilet in the house doesnt work, but the shower-its one of the greatest things on earth. its often in the 90s here, with NO AC except in the atm machine room and i get HOT so i usually shower twice a day under running water.)

whitney

In the mountains here, the dogs are the sewer service. When you poop (or vomit), they come along and eat it. This has its ups and its downs. It means that when you have to poop in the middle of the night, you dont have to walk too far from the house because it will be gone by morning anyway. This is good because it is SO dark at night when it is cloudy that if you go too far to poop and cant find the house with the flashlight, it is easy to get turned around and end up walking off in some random direction looking for the house (I only did this the first night). The dogs are only not good when sometimes it is creepy that they surround you and watch you poop or brush your teeth or whatever you do outside of the homestead after dark! I find that weird and usually try to shoo them away. In the house in the city, I share my bathroom with fire ants and a spider that is only out at night, and one creepy beetle, but at least I'm not surrounded by hungry dogs when I poop! I will say though, that during the day, the "bathroom" on the mountain has the most gorgeous view from a toilet that I have ever seen. As soon as I can, I will post a picture that is a view. Imagine green cultivated mountainside with palm trees sprinkled around.

(Pontevedra, Spain) - Homeless...

Another funny story!

Dr. Corsino, the doctor I am working with, knows a woman who is from the US and she has a daughter that is 27 who has dual citizenship in the US and here in Spain. She speaks English, Spanish, Italian, and something else I think but who cares because the important thing is she speaks ENGLISH! Corsino gave me her number and told me to call her last week. So, later in the afternoon that day I used the payphone right outside the dorm to call her and we set up a place and time to meet in Pontevedra, the place being somewhere I had never heard of and the time being 10pm.

I went to the place, a beautiful round church ( I took pictures), and spotted Iria (her name). I went up to her and said “Iria?”, and the girl shakes her head, "No." Haha. Okay, next…. I waited beside this woman for a minute and another girl walked by us, in this fairly lively plaza, looking as if she was looking for someone too. I caught eyes with the previous lady I had mistaken as Iria and she nodded at me as if to say she thought that was the person I was looking for. So, I approached her aaaaaand…….wrong again! However, as I turn around from my second mistaken identification, Iria is walking up to me laughing. Of course I stick out a little bit from the rest of the Spaniards.

So we went to a couple nice bars and cafes to grab a few drinks and wait for her friend to arrive. My plans were to hang out for a bit with them and then head back to the dorm so I could A) get into the dorm before it closed at 1:30am, and B) be able to make it to the 9am train for Santiago in the morning.....I'm sure you already have a pretty good general idea of where this story is headed.

Iria's friend did not end up coming until 1:30 or so and I felt bad leaving Iria alone because she did come into town to meet with me per her mother's request (per Dr. Corsino's request). So we ended up hopping from bar to bar, chatting, ripping shots, partaking in much libation, and having a lot of fun. We ended up staying out until 5:30 in the morning (because Spaniards stay out until 9 am when they party apparently - Ballers). I got to the dorm AAAAAAAAAAAnnnnd of course it was locked at 5:30 in the morning. So my first night as a homeless bumb began! It was a chilly night (pretty cold actually) and all I had was a long sleeve collared shirt and a t-shirt and jeans. AAAAAAAaaannnnd of course it started to rain....of course.....of freakin’ course…

Touche Spain.... The score now is Spain 2, Ronnie 0. Actually, Spain 2.5, Ronnie 0 because of the rain.

Luckily I did ONE smart thing the whole night....I snatched an umbrella -ella -ella from the dorm before I left. So, I proceeded to seek shelter under the hangover right in front of the door to the dorm and I made a sweet lean-to tent with the umbrella -ella -ella and a nearby decorative bush. I would say it was very Bear Grills-esque, but that would be highly insulting to the great Ronnie Milam. This knocks it back down to Spain 2, Ronnie 0. I used my long sleeve shirt as a blanket and attempted to pass out on the freezing stone steps. A girl came to open the door at 9:30 in the morning (the door I was laying in front of) and she proceeded to laugh at me - in Spanish of course. Hey, I thought I looked pretty damn good with my set up. Haha. A scout is "thrifty"! Needless to say I did not catch my train and I was in no mood to try to pack for Santiago and leave anytime soon, as I was still quite tipsy. So I went to bed until 2 pm (which is lunchtime here).

Awesome. So, I traveled to Santiago de Compostela (this year is especially important there because it is the “Anho Santo,” which only happens every 7 years) the next day, Sunday.

You will all be glad to know that I have since managed to sleep indoors each night.....however, I do have a month left here.....

(Pontevedra, Spain) - Really? Did that just happen?

WOOO!!!!

So, for those of you who don't know (which is probably everyone...) I am in Spain doing research and learning how to hablo mexican for the summer....oh, and traveling a bit too! I am staying in a Galician city called Pontevedra. It is north of Portugal on the Atlantic coast - VERY beautiful! I arrived here in Pontevedra on July 2 and have had an absolute blast so far! Lots of stories from my many antics....but I'm sure that's hard for you all to imagine, coming from me and all. Let's begin with a little journey down memory lane, reflecting on my first day when I arrived in Spain.

My trip began as I flew out of the Charlotte-Douglas International airport and headed to Washington D.C., where I would catch my next plain directly to

Madrid. However, since I am a complete idiot, I scheduled my flights 6 hours apart and was forced to entertain myself in the Dulles airport for quite some time before I boarded for Madrid. Flights leave from Charlotte to D.C. every 30 minutes all day so the score so far is Spain 1, Ronnie 0. Well, actually I guess that is actually America 1, Ronnie 0.....So it's really still Spain 0, Ronnie 0. But don't worry, Spain will get plenty of points later on. This photo is not actually me, but you get the picture - pun absolutely intended.

Anyways, when I finally landed in Madrid, after a 7 hour flight, I made my way to the train station to purchase my ticket to Pontevedra, which I was under the assumption was a 2 hour trip (this is where Spain get's her first point). Oh no! I order the ticket in Spanish somehow and the train ride is 8 HOURS LONG! And not only that, but I have to wait 5 hours for it to depart from the station. Baller! I rock at this travel planning business! Spain 1, Ronnie 0.

While I was awaiting my train in Madrid, drifting in and out of consciousness on the bench (Laying on top of my backpack of course), I woke up at one point and a guy about our age or older was sitting beside me with a notebook and TWO – count ‘em – TWO The Sims computer game magazines. Naturally I thought to myself, “I would not be caught dead reading that out in public.” Of course I, myself have played this game before, but a public display of such infatuation with the game is beyond what my pride can handle.

So, there I am, with "Super Sim Spaniard" beside me....straight chillin', waiting for my train to arrive.....just as things could not get any stranger, as he was entranced in the pages, he lifted up the magazine and noticed marinara sauce that was splattered all over the magazine and notebook, smooshed all in between. He licked the sauce off of his hand and then, staring at the magazine, contemplated his next move…. I could see his wheels turning…. i wanted to scream out “NO! Don’t do it for Christ’s sake!” He casually flipped the magazine over, examining both sides to locate all of the sauce, and proceeded to lick the sauce off of the cover of the magazine AND notebook. It was a multiple-licker too. Not just one lick was cleaning off this bad boy. Then, he casually got up from the seat like I wasn’t even there (of course I’m obviously staring at him by now and from a foot away) and walked away. “Where the hell am I!” I thought to myself as I looked around to see if anyone else noticed this scene, or even cared for that matter. I went back to sleep.

The 8 hour train ride from Madrid to Pontevedra was absolutely beautiful! The landscaped changed from grassy plains, to rocky cliff sides falling into crashing waves below, to small villages and mountains. It was very nice to see once, but I shall not be partaking in any other 8 hour train rides unless I can lay down and sleep.

So far, I have visited several places in Galicia, the most famous of which is Santiago de Compostela. If you have time, look up some info about it. It is a huge religious pilgrimage spot for Catholics. Every year folks walk from France to this far west location in Spain to visit the cathedral of Santiago. It was very interesting and uplifting to see all of the pilgrims complete their long journey. Next week I head to Paris to meet a co-worker from the Olympics in Beijing. Excited!

I hope everyone is having a great summer so far! Great idea with the blogg Mike!

Adios amigos!

Ronnie

(Barcelona, Spain) - Weed & The Mediterranean

Two nights ago after I finally recovered from the transatlantic flight and the delays caused by the french air traffic control strike, some of the guys from the flat invited me to come with them to Park Guell. It's a really famous park here in Barcelona. It was closed but my flatmates knew a way to sneak in after dark. We got to the park and it reminded me of the Blair Witch Project. We were running around with very little light amongst all this old architecture. There was a ledge the jutted out from the rock and apparently Guell decided this would be a good place to build a balcony. So we sat there with an elevated view of all of Barcelona at night. My silly self thought we were going up there to admire the spectacular views. Yeah right. They were going up there to smoke weed. LOL

(This is where we walked but it was dark)

Now you have to understand that I'm officially (by citizenship Jordanian). I had to move heaven and earth to get my visa to come here. What could possibly happen? Yeah…..you guessed it…..the cops showed up! I'm thinking "This is NOT GOOD". One of the Mexicans that was with us started speaking Spanish to the cop. And then I saw one of the cops motion expressionlesslywith his hand for us to follow him. The four of us walked behind Ricardo (the Mexican) I tried to ask one of the other girls who speaks Spanish what was going on and she just said wait. I had no idea where we were walking. We walked through the dark with the cops for a few minutes, me not sure if we were going to jail or not? Finally, we got to the gate and they let us out. Relieved, we made our way back to a more well lit area. I looked at Ricardo and felt really glad that he talked to the cops while it was dark b/c his eyes were as red as the wolfpack. The cops were nice though apparently they even told Ricardo the directions to get home.

Oh Barcelona. I wish I could articulate how beautiful this place is. Who knows maybe I feel this way just because it's all new but I try to take pictures of the amazing architecture and landscape but it's everywhere and my battery ends up dying before I can capture a fraction of it. I find myself overwhelmed by the history around me.

They say the best way to explore this place is on foot so this morning I got up and went for a jog. I knew that the beach was south so I just ran that direction. Before I knew it I was in the main city square, Placa Catalunya. My dad had taken a picture 35 years ago feeding the pigeons in the center of this same square. The pigeons literally swarm the in the center of it; 35 years later some things had changed, but the pigeons are still here. And I will be feeding them don't worry.

I kept running south towards the beach (I hoped) and I found myself running in Barri Gotic (the old city).The passage ways were narrow and weaving between the old gothic buildings from around 1000 years ago. With no room for cars, it's just people walking and I almost tripped ten times from having my head looking up at all the carvings on the buildings around me.

Finally the Gothic Quarter broke into the Port and without realizing it, the ocean was in front of me. I made my way to the beach. Hot and sweaty, I was looking forward to taking a dip. As I got closer, I saw this guy in speedos laying on the beach tanning. "Haha, Europeans!" I thought to myself. This dude had something unusual about his chest anatomy though, until I got closer and realized it was a topless woman. WTF? LOL I looked around and couldn't believe it. I saw more naked bodies today than in 304 Macnider(Anatomy lab). This is normal here. I still don't know how to feel about this. C'est la vie! (or maybe I'll save that for France).

Welcome to Barcelona. Everyone from the flat is going out tonight, but I'm going to lay low and plan the rest of my summer travels. More to come.

(Barcelona, Spain) - The Adventure Begins…

June 16, 2010

Yes, I was late off the blocks but my summer finally started. I flew to Chicago

on the 9th of June for the AMA national conference. But before the conference started I caught up with an old friend (Sam Dolbee). He took me to DEVON Ave in Chicago. If you've never been there you should go. Its like a mini Southeast Asia. I think they're trying to rename the street Gandhi.

The next morning I noticed that Sam's mom is a beekeeper and when she found out I was interested she opened up the boxes and showed me inside how the bees make honey and taught me a little about it. She has over 12,000 bees and told me that in a single bee's life time it makes only one teaspoon of honey. She harvests gallons of this stuff. But it made me appreciate the

honey we had for breakfast that morning a whole lot more.

The AMA convention was in the Hyatt Regency in downtown Chicago. The people I went with (members of our class but I'll let them identify if they want to) and I spent most of the time exploring the city. I'd never been in Chicago before. It was MASSIVE! I found out it’s the 3rd largest city in the US behind NY and LA. There is a building there called the John Hancock building that has a bar with four walls of glass on the 96th floor. You can see the whole city and at night it looks like you're looking down at the stars. It's pretty cool. On a random day we were walking through millennium park and this lady hands us two tickets to go on the bus tour. We each pitched in for the third ticket and toured the city. Chicago reminded me of a much cleaner NY, but who knows…I didn't see all of it.

A few days later I flew from Chicago to NY where I spent the night and caught up with another old friend from UNC. Something that is worth noting although all to often taking for granted is how good my friends are. There are some really good people in my life! HOLLA!

So the day before yesterday I flew out of JFK to Brussels. We were delayed for an hour an a half after we boarded so we just sat on the tarmac waiting to move. I decided to try to unlock my iPhone so I could tether it to my laptop and get internet. As soon as I figured it out, literally the minute I figured it out in standard Mike Mallah fashion we were set for take off. If you've never flown JET Airways I'd recommend it. I didn't know it's an Indian airline. They served freakin Chicken Curry on the plane. How kick ass is that?

Anyway, I got to Brussels, Belgium and had a five hour lay over but I was really tired so I passed out in the airport. After I woke up I found out that Air Traffic control in France was on strike so my plane to Spain was delayed. Taking advantage of the opportunity, I decided to scope out some Belgian chocolates. I grabbed some on the fly and then boarded my plane. Sitting there eating my world famous Belgian chocolates, I thought about how awesome I was at the moment….until I looked down and read "Made in Japan"

on the box. DAMN. Next time Brussels, next time!

So now I'm in Barcelona! I got here yesterday and the person that was suppose to pick me up from the Airport never showed. So after navigating the bus and subways systems with my impressive collection of Spanish vocabulary which includes and IS limited to Por Favor's, Gracias's, and De Nada's I found my way to my apt. The student flat here is four bedrooms and 19 med students live here from all over the world (Mexico, Indonesia, Columbia, Spain, Holland, etc). Interesting. We'll see how it works.

I haven't seen much of the city yet…but its beautiful so far. We're going out tonight.