Here are some of the yummy recipes I was able to learn while at a cooking school on Koh Lanta with Hibba back in February/March. They also included some nifty handouts describing the foods used in Thai food and what they are called in Thai! Now you too can speak Thai!! Enjoy!! XOXO, E

Well, it's a year later, and I don't know who's still stumbling across this thing. For anyone out there who happens to do so, this post is for you.

I discontinued this blog because I didn't really like giving updates of my personal life. It was a way to keep friends posted on the events of my life while I was hard to get ahold of, but that stopped being necessary.

The purpose of this post is to direct readers to my new web presence: www.pandastan.com. In addition to the home page, which is focused on my novel, Pandastan, this new website has pages devoted to all my creative projects: songs, videos, paintings, drawings, essays and more. I didn't want to continue interacting with the internet in a blog format, and this blog is really all about my Peace Corps experience anyway. I wanted to leave it like that and invite people to explore the website I created if they have a mind to.

That's all. I intend to keep adding material to the new website as it's created, so if you have a soft spot in your heart for the things I say and create, add the link to your bookmarks and check in on it from time to time. Thanks everyone! Ta-Ta.

The power went out in the village so I went to go buy some candles at the boutique nearby. On my way returning home, I passed by the teachers’ house. I saw a flashlight bouncing through the darkness, so I called out a greeting. It was one of the teachers. He shined his flashlight in my face as I approached, then said, “We need your torch.”

He grabbed my flashlight from me and brought it to where a couple of other teachers were cooking. One of them was hacking away at a goat head with a broken machete. I thought for sure the old man was going to take one of his thumbs off. The power soon returned, but I stuck around to see how they planned to prepare this goat head.

While we stood around the boiling pot that smelled like a distinct mixture of beef and wet dog, an interesting conversation ensued. This particular group of teachers is all Congolese. I discovered that they segregate themselves from the others because they are not Rwandan. The distaste that they have for Rwandan culture became more and more apparent as the conversation progressed. The two groups get along on the surface, but they don't like to spend extended amounts of time together.

I learned all about Congolese cuisine. It seems they will indiscriminately eat any kind of meat in the DRC, including small birds, tortoises, monkeys and rats. One of my Congolese friends explained to me that there is a certain organ in crocodiles that is extremely poisonous and must be removed under the supervision of the local authorities. When they remove this particular organ, they must throw it into a 30 meter-deep pit, dump gas into it, light the gas, and then bury the hole again.

When I finally tried to leave, my friends asked me to stay and eat with them. I obliged. Goat brain is now the strangest food I have eaten. It made the cassava paste seem normal. One of them described it as smooth. I would say goopdescribes its texture best.

This is the school that I spent the last three months of school at last year. It was a hard situation, probably the most difficult job I've ever done. I don't know the answer to the question of what to do about schools like this or this school in particular, so I guess it is as she says in the story . . . we shall see what happens over the next year. . .

Following Trevista – The Challenges That Lie Ahead: Trevista public school in Denver is embarking upon a major shake-up to boost academic scores, part of a federal program to save failing schools. [Photo: CPR]

May 16, 2012 -- Off Highway 19 and a bend in the Missouri River, South Dakota's corn is already enjoying the warmest year on record.

As you know, in Cambodia we eat every part of every animal.  Last night my host mother made stir-fried chicken innards.  It was my lucky night because she cooked two different stir-fried chicken innard dishes. As interesting as they may … Continue reading →

I had been religiously updating my blog, so my lack of posting in these past few weeks have left somewhat of a hole in the fabric of my life. In the space of my absence I have met a huge milestone in the life of my blog: I hit 1,000 views. Thanks to everybody that read and shared my stories. I never thought anyone outside of my family would read them yet here we are over 1,000 views in a month. You may be wondering then if I was at such a high momentum with page views, why I stopped posting?

Well for the past few weeks I have been incredibly sick and last week could barely see.

Last week I incurred some sort of eye infection. My eyes would leak fluid and then that fluid would harden into a crust around my eyes. When I would close my eyes at night by the morning I could not open them. They would be sealed shut. I had to use much effort and water to remove this hardened shell from around my eyes. Once I was finally able to open my eyes, I was greeted by a persistent stinging. At first it was dull and just a minor inconvenience but before long it felt like glass was being shredded in my eyes. It would be so painful that I was forced to retreat into my room with bottles of water on my eyes. Most times I try to play cool and wait things out but when I told my father about my eyes he begged me to call my PCMO (Peace Corps Medical Officer). I did and the office was so helpful. They advised me to go into the large city near my town and visit the clinic that has credit with Peace Corps. Unlike the US, I could go to the clinic without fear of having to pay a bunch of money. As a PCV, I have free high quality health insurance. I sat in private clinic that seemed to be stuck in the late 60’s or early 70’s. The décor was mod and orange. A doctor saw me with a wait of less then 30 min and had my prescription filled in the hour. The medicine was also free. It took another 5 days before glass-shredding effect in my eyes waned. I lost allot of Pasear and teaching time in this period, which made me feel bad as I was just getting my footing in these areas. However as I lay in my bed I was able to think about time and sickness in a very interesting way. I have been in site for almost 2 months. Out of those 2 months I have had very serious sicknesses for at least 3 weeks…Yet I have not felt like a sick person or unhappy. Even with my eyes sealed I was pretty upbeat. Although my body was going through all sorts of changes my spirit, heart, and mind felt great!

Now I am back and ready to write.

Exactly 3 months ago today, I left the Peace Corps. Most people already know my reasons, but the last 2 entries on this blog are for those people who haven’t kept as closely in touch. This entry describes my last month and a half leading up to my departure from Cameroon. The next entry will describe my reasons for leaving the Peace Corps and what I am doing now.

Just a few days after New Years, I went to a District Strategic Planning meeting for all the health centers in my district. The head coordinators from over 20 health centers attended. I went with the coordinator from my health center, and I when I met him at 7am he said he had stayed up the entire night working on finalizing the numbers for the report, even working by candlelight when the power went out. We had to transfer twice in order to get to the district hospital in Baham, so it took a long time and there was a lot of waiting around at each transfer. Finally, we made it and the meeting was pretty interesting from my perspective just to see what they talk about at these meetings. The head of the district hospital gave a talk about a new technology they are using, a website that allows the coordinators of each center to upload their health data online to track changes and outbreaks in real-time. It does have major advantages because data could be compiled faster rather than waiting until the end of the month to turn in the paper copy. There were 3 cases of cholera in the last month in our district, including one woman who was admitted to the health center that I work with and referred to Baham. Cholera is thus a very real and dangerous problem, and anything to improve the detection and case management of this and other diseases would be beneficial. However, our health center doesn’t even have a computer, much less internet. Using a website to upload information doesn’t seem at all practical until those things are addressed. Then the staff would have to be trained how to use it. Nevertheless, it’s possible that this could become a reality in the future. The rest of the meeting was pretty boring. Each of the health coordinators talked about how their health centers are working and what challenges they are facing, but mostly the district head did all the talking and he repeated the same things over and over. I enjoyed the experience of seeing how they run their meetings and was really glad I went.

A few days later, I went down to Yaoundé to pick up Shivani. She came to visit for a month and a half and everything about my life in Cameroon changed. In addition to going “clando” several times (leaving my post without permission) and breaking a few other Peace Corps rules, everything about my perception of the Peace Corps and why I was devoting 2 years to being there changed.

Although much of my time during that month and a half was spent showing her around Cameroon and my village, and spending quality time together, we also did quite a lot of work. For instance, I introduced Shivani to the staff at the health center where I worked.

We met with women at the health center on pre-natal consultation days and vaccination days and discussed common health problems they face in their community. We presented information about disease prevention and maternal and child health for women who are pregnant or breastfeeding. We also screened Scenarios from Africa films, which are short films related to HIV/AIDS topics, with women at the health center and facilitated a discussion about the films with the patients at the health center.

We also worked with a youth group at a local church and screened the Scenarios from Africa films with them on a couple occasions. They really loved the films and we had really rich discussions. Some of the issues they brought up included practicing abstinence and fidelity in relationships. We demonstrated the proper way to put on a condom and helped the youth plan a sensitization campaign to educate community members about HIV/AIDS. The youth were really excited about this project and showed a lot of enthusiasm; however, I had to leave before I could help get this project off the ground. Although more could have been done if I had stayed longer, I hope that the effort that I did make had an impact in their lives and inspired them to do more.

We also met with traditional dance groups, the Poohmendjeu and Lissa groups. They had weekly meetings and we met with them and explained our purpose of being there and how we hoped to collaborate with them to address health concerns in their community. We did an exercise using appreciative inquiry, where they listed resources available in their community. We also helped them identify major health problems in their community and we planned a community mapping exercise. We discussed potential projects and next steps to take, but unfortunately there wasn’t enough time to continue collaborations with these groups.

We also attended many community events such as funerailles (a celebration of someone’s life usually held 6 months to a year after they died), including a really big one for one of the sub-chiefs.

At the funeraille in our matching outfits. Click any of the pictures to see full-size.

Another activity we did was hosting a junior youth group, which is based on the Junior Youth Spiritual Empowerment Program, using the French version of Breezes of Confirmation. Just like the group that I started during pre-service training, this group studied the lessons from the book and planned out a service project. I got to know the parents of one of the junior youth very well and although her son appeared very shy and quiet when I first met him in the market, he really lit up when he joined the group and helped organize and lead the other junior youth. Unfortunately, I had to leave before the group got very far off the ground and there was no one to continue the group, unlike the one that I had started during training.

Shivani and I went to meet the superior chief of my village and he showed us his livestock and fields before serving us a grand meal.



We also had a potluck on the Chinese/Lunar New Year where we invited a few PCVs from nearby villages as well as several friends from my community. We prepared a vast array of dishes, including vegetable stuffed cabbage, Pajeon (Korean-style pancakes) with dipping sauce, and vegetable lo mein. We also served fresh pineapples and another PCV brought guacamole, so we had a big feast!

Since I’m on the subject of food, we also prepared chocolate cake, banana bread, pancakes with M&M’s and bananas inside, and helped Mama Monique prepare her food for the lunch that she sells at the boutique next to my house. We made pommes pilés, koki, and other local Cameroonian dishes, and we also taught Mama Monique how to make tofu from soybeans.

We hiked Mount Batchingou with Sawa, a close friend from my village who I played guitar with, and a guide. This mountain is located just behind my house and every night I watched the sun set behind it. It was a long hike in the hot sun, and frankly it wasn’t very fun. Cameroonians have a peculiar habit of burning all the land in order to plant new crops because that’s easier than tilling the soil, although far worse for the environment. So there was no shade the entire way up the mountain and the grass was a burnt stubble so that with every step we kicked up dust and ashes. When we got to the top, there were too many clouds to see anything so there wasn’t much of a view. However, Sawa and the guide were fun to be with and they made lots of jokes, so it was still a relatively pleasant time. We also got to visit a sacred waterfall, where we had to take off our jewelery and hats before entering and weren’t allowed to take any photos.

Look how much dust and ash there was

We also traveled quite a lot. We took a trip to Limbe, a beautiful beach with black sand. We had poisson braisé (grilled fish) by the water and met an American expat Marine who showed us around and introduced us to some of his friends, who ate wood-fired pizza with us and took us to see the Botanical Gardens. When we weren’t able to leave on the day we had planned because of issues with the bus, he hosted us at his house another night.

We also attended the National Youth Day parade and met with the Prefet in Bangangté. The classes from each school had different colored uniforms and they all marched down the streets for hours, singing songs about unity, education, health, and HIV/AIDS.

The Prefet of Bangangté and his wifeIt’s hard to properly summarize a full month and a half of activities, especially when writing about it 3 months later, but that gives a pretty good picture of the wonderful time we had together in Cameroon during the end of my stay. The next post will talk about the other side of the picture, why I decided to leave Peace Corps.

I have been in Guyana for one year, three months and three days. I've been "adopted" by three different host families, spent innumerable hours laying in hammocks, and read something in the neighborhood of 45 books. I've broken three computers and a phone, developed a love for Banks Beer, and filled a journal and a half with the overflowings of my brain. I've befriended six Canadians, loved and lost six dogs, and learned to make a pretty damn good fried bake. I've eaten chicken feet, tecumah worm, gizzard, iguana, bush hog, and labba; I don't know how I will survive without pumpkin, roti, dhall puri, fig bananas and fresh pine. I've been within view of Surinam and Venezuela, become a better dancer, and grown a ridiculous amount of curly blonde hair. I've gotten some crazy tan lines, made a pointer broom, and heard both hurtful and hilarious rumors and half-truths about myself. I've come to enjoy washing clothes by hand, I've learned to wake up at 6:30 without an alarm, and I found a true friend in a housewife old enough to be my mother. I've discovered frogs, bats, lizards, a tarantula and a snake in my room. (The snake was in my bed.) I've learned to play trump, been beaten at Bananagrams by people who didn't finish high school, and gone on barefoot runs down a sand road flanked by two dozen children. I've cried a lot, but I've smiled more. I've taught children about planets and letter sounds and fractions and the continents, and I've taught adults about evolution and how to write a five-paragraph essay and that dinosaurs and humans did not, in fact, cohabitate the earth; but I've learned infinately more than that, about the importance of family, about how to relax and enjoy the present moment. I've learned that culture does, in fact, sculpt who we are, but that our cultural differences are not an end-all but rather a lens through which we can analyze who we are, what we can forgive, what we value and how open-minded we really are.

There are few products but many processes. There have been many dead ends but many doors still waiting to be opened, and I still have 11 months to open them...I'm not done with you yet, Guyana!

One morning I decided to go for a run on the main dirt road going through my village & I got a ton of people doing a double take at me as they rode by on their motos. I’ve realized that no one just “goes for a run” because they’re taking care of their farm, garden, & multiple children, or they’re busy fetching water from the borehole or cutting down dead trees for firewood & putting these heavy loads on top of their heads to walk back to their mud hut. So getting exercise isn’t really a problem for them. Anyway, a good handful of people in Tumu will know that you’re exercising if you decided to go for a run; however, the villagers won’t really understand unless you explain to them your purpose for running when nothing is chasing you.

Back to my story – after running one morning, I took a bucket bath & had intended to eat my breakfast when a group of girls from the village were knocking at my door to tell me that they were going to church & that I should come, so I did. The mass was held in one of the small classrooms of the school & the number of villagers in attendance were about 15. Not exactly what we’d call a church mass back home in America, but it works here in my village. After the mass, the girls encouraged me to walk home with them & greet all of the people along the way, which I did. We walked through about half the village, including the chief’s compound to greet the chief & his family. Now it’s around 11am (note: I left for my run around 6), it’s hot as anything, & I haven’t eaten any food & probably didn’t drink enough water. So I admit, I made some bad decisions.

As I was walking back to my room with a few of the girls from the chief’s palace & explaining to them the uses of moringa, I started to feel dizzy. I told them that I didn’t feel so well & I leaned up against the wall near my door, but they continued asking questions about moringa like nothing was happening to me. That’s when their voices started fading away & all I saw was little specs of light…& then just pure darkness. The next thing I knew I was being lifted out of the dirt & into my room. Thank god I was swinging my keys around in my hands as I was talking to them so they knew how to open up my door. I was so weak, they dragged me into my room, leaving a trail of dirt in my path (so sweeping my place that morning before my run might not have been a good idea after all), & plopped me onto my bed. I felt delusional, but I insisted that I get up, although they were all directing me back to my bed. My purpose for wobbling across my room? To turn on the fan. But that didn’t help.

I told them that I’d be alright & to leave my room, although I knew perfectly well that I wasn’t alright, but I didn’t want a group of Ghanaians just chilling in my small single-roomed “house” with all of my belongings not completely put away. I sat on my bed, not being fully cognizant yet of my situation, when I suddenly heard my stomach roar like a lion. Yes, my stomach became a fierce feline that demanded food, & when I presented it with a Cliff Bar, it inhaled half of it in a second. Realizing that sitting on my bed a few feet away from my fan wasn’t doing me any good, I hobbled over to my only chair, moved it about a foot away from the fan & sat on its hard plastic. While sitting in front of the fan that seemed to only blow hot air into my face, I downed all of my hot filtered water, which didn’t sit well in my stomach. This called for desperate measures. I decided, for the first time, to turn on my refrigerator.

I know, I know…why didn’t I have the refrigerator on in the first place? Because I had just come back from all of my conferences (my Reconnect In-Service Training & All-Vol) & I was about to leave again for Wa for my World Malaria Day program. So turning on my refrigerator would use up a ton of electricity for a short time until I had to thaw it out before I left my village again. But I didn’t care anymore. I turned my fridge on & put filtered water into the freezer section. I tried eating more of my Cliff Bar, but the hot water inside my stomach made me feel sick. So I tried to sit in front of the fan & not think about my churning stomach or dirt stuck to the sweat all over my body, when a group of children knocked at my door yelling “Madam! Madam!” The first thing that came into my somewhat rational mind was, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

At this point in time I was only wearing my running bra & underwear because my body temperature was just too hot to have any clothes on, so now I slowly walked over to my towel & wrapped it around my body before I opened my door to about five playful little kids. “Madam! Madam! Give me water!” Now, I’m usually nice to them, even when they demand things from me like that, but that day I was just not feeling it. “Go home,” I angrily said in Sisaali, desperately trying not to yell at them. “My head & stomach pain me,” pointing to my head & stomach as I said the words in English because I couldn’t think of the words in Sisaali off the top of my head in my still slightly delusional state of mind. Lucky enough, the children listened to me (that never happens anymore) & they walked away looking concerned. Maybe it was because my hair was a mess & I still had dirt all over my body, including the bits hanging off of my face. I probably scared them away.

Closing the door again, I decided it was time to check the fridge. I felt the cool air on my body & I immediately drew myself nearer. I opened the little freezer section & checked on the water & it felt slightly cool. “Good enough for me,” I thought as I downed most of it in a few gulps. Before putting the water back in the freezer section, I stayed crouched down in my position of opening the freezer for a few seconds, & then I went for it…I tried sticking my head, dripping of sweat & dirt, in the freezer. Unfortunately, my head was too big. Plan B: I stuck both of my arms into the freezer instead. I was in a state of freezer-burn bliss when my worst nightmare returned. The children.

“Madam! Madam!” they cried. I swung the door open ready to yell at them this time when they began mumbling in a panic-stricken state of voice, “You must bathe” in Sisaali. And as they motioned for me to bathe, it finally hit me. I should bathe? I should bathe! I don’t know if they were still concerned due to my appearance or if they were miraculously sent from above to deliver a very important message of pouring water on myself. Whatever it was, I was not going to wait around & contemplate the “hows” or “whys.” I slammed the door, took out my bucket for washing clothes & stepped inside of it, opened my garbage can filled with borehole water & splashed bucket upon bucket of that warm water all over myself. Then I walked to my plastic chair, dripping water all over my concrete floor, & sat in front of my fan & open refrigerator until I felt my body temperature reduce to a reasonable degree of comfort. I ate the rest of the (by this time) mushy/almost watery Cliff Bar & slumped back into my bed, not even worrying about the pile of dirt that I left on my bed sheets an hour or so earlier. Then I passed out – not literally like before, but I was just so weak & tired that I slept for almost the entire afternoon.

Needless to say, it took a few days to recover. Not to mention, when I visited my NGO before travelling to Wa for the World Malaria Day program, Gladys, one of the guesthouse receptionists, had given me an orange. Now, we all know that oranges are filled with Vitamin C, a vitamin that should have helped me to a much-needed speedy recovery. HA! Fortunately for me, that orange was not only filled with Vitamin C, but a wad of unexpected protein thanks to the maggots crawling around inside of it. I didn’t realize they were even there until I was halfway done stuffing myself with this delicious tasting orange & finally noticed the inside of the orange was moving. I know Gladys was only trying to help, but try explaining that to my stomach & an already barely functioning body.

Since then, I’ve taken more care of myself because it truly is more important to worry about my health & safety first over the happiness of everyone else in my village. I know they love having the pleasure of me greet them for hours on end, but now it won’t be on an empty stomach.

Moral of the story: kids, don’t try this at home.

During these first two months at site, one of the demographics I've connected best with are the "dek dek anuban"" (preschool kids). Since the first five years of one's childhood are known as "The Golden Years", these two-to-four year olds are learning how to recite the Thai alphabet, sing Thai songs, and properly brush their teeth. While I've been a professional teeth-brusher for about 20 years now, I can relate to the dek dek anuban's new exposure to Thai language and culture (fifth month at site, and I still have the Thai language competency of a toddler). While I'm still not sure what I can contribute to early childhood development during these next two years of Peace Corps service, I've discovered that I'm skilled at calming down crying toddlers, making flowers out of clay, and singing "Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes" with grace. In the eyes of these preschool students, I'm practically awesome.

Me making a dog for a three-year-old girl after she squashed my clay catCreated by me and a four-year-old boy. We named this work of art "bah nguu" (Snake Island)Amazing the dek dek anuban with my doodling skillsThe kids are convinced that a "bplaa-muk-yak" (octopus) is not a real animal

Last Friday my school held a “Grand Re-Opening & Bake Sale” for the ESDM Library. It was pretty fantastic if I do say so myself. The Rotary Club of Pohnpei was generous enough to provide our start up capital so we could purchase flour, sugar, butter, eggs, etc.

Thursday was FSM Constitution Day so we had the day off school. A few of my 8th graders and my World Teach friend Lori helped bake several dozen cookies and a few cakes.

On Friday students brought additional baked goods as well as drinking coconuts and some produce from their houses, my host sister brought my favorite- fried breadfruit- to sell for $0.50 a bag, it was so much fun, and delicious!

It felt great to have the entire school coming together for a common goal. We raised almost $200 and still have food for additional bake sales during the rest of the school year.

The library looks great and now has the funds to look even greater, we are hoping to purchase book repair supplies and other library materials to make us more of a functional library. Rumor has it there may even be a computer lab in our future (this rumor has resurfaces after several months of being dormant, I’m not holding my breath).

Before After(Thanks Blair Family for my new improved library card holder!)

Disillusionment. Extreme curiosity. Frustration. Crazy ass dreams.

All symptoms of Peace Corps Restless Applicant Syndrome, or RAS for short. Of which, I've self-diagnosed myself as having a moderate to severe case. Please, allow me to elaborate.

Unfortunately, not the prescription.Disillusionment: Between waiting for the Office of Medical Services to clear me, frustrations at my job, and desire to embark on a career of sustainable development, it feels as if the sky is falling every day I don't hear from Peace Corps and I have to deal with vocation shenanigans. Regardless of the rational thought that my September departure I was nominated for is a mere four months away, even m aking it through an eight hour work day is laborious. Every day that passes without communication from PC, is another day I'm convinced my medical information is just rotting on someone's desk and that I'm going to have to wait another four months to depart. RAS is sucking dry my ability to always be positive and know something better is always on the horizon. With the Peace Corps, it always seems that the light at the end of the tunnel moves back three feet for every two you advance towards it.

Cry more, right?

Extreme Curiosity: How many of you can quickly point to exactly where Togo rests on a map? Or know the official language of Cape Verde? Or study the political stability of Francophone Africa? Well, I can supply you with the answers. If I'm not working or sleeping, there is a good chance that I'm researching Peace Corps, PC blogs, Peace Corps Wiki, and/or any news pertaining to service. Given enough time, RAS will likely infuse me with enough knowledge to be a genius when it comes to African trivia.

Frustration: I feel like my late Grandma Geri, lately. If you don't know the unwritten rules of the world, I have little time for you. Working at a behavioral facility for kids does not mesh with this too well. And by "too well," I mean I facepalm innumerable times a day.

The Picard is fully aware of the undignified actions that prompt a facepalm.I imagine my patience as a big tank that dwells inside me. It starts full every morning and as I make it through the day, drama, pettiness, racist remarks, things being thrown through the air, being called a "dickbag," having little authority in my own classroom, being disrespected, and openly being mocked all tax it. Being afflicted with RAS, it appears as if the tank size is steadily shrinking and there is a direct correlation to an increase in facepalming.

Crazy Ass Dreams: Seeing as how my days are permeated with thoughts of Peace Corps (research, daydreaming, waking up at 200 am to see if I received an application status update), it's understandable how I've begun dreaming about it as well. RAS is like a combination of obsession and depression. It infiltrates your thoughts and actions and demands your obedience all day every day. However, it is debilitating and immobilizing, ensuring your dutiful frustration and negativity, convinced the process will never end.

The first Peace Corps related dream [that I remember, at least] starred Craig and I wandering aimlessly through an airport. We were totally lost, unsure of the gate to which we needed to go because PC never told us definitively the country we were serving in! For some reason (beer, likely), I wasn't freaking out; I only began harboring negative feelings towards PC (perhaps indicative of reality) for putting us through such inanity. I recall thinking that we were serving in Greece due to their economic crisis and then making our way to a flight that was destined for Athens.

My second dream involved myself with a number of very good friends and various dream people populating a very rural farm for staging. I had dream knowledge that it was Peace Corps staging, but there was otherwise nothing that would indicate it. People were all dressed as country bumpkins- red long-sleeve Ts and denim coveralls. Everyone. We definitely shucked hay and boozed the entire time (and from what I gather, this isn't actually too far removed from most PCV's staging experiences). Even Kaitlin Olson, Sweet Dee from It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia, arrived and apparently had the hots for me. Not only that, courtesy more dream knowledge, I understood she and I had been engaging in adult relations (sorry, Mac) long before this farm hoedown and while this dream remained PG, I did at least get a handful of ass, which is shocking because Kaitlin is... Well, skinny is an understatement. Regardless, as soon as Kaitlin arrived, dream conversations changed pretty rapidly from Peace Corps related talk to naughty talk. Go fig.

I don't know if it's a cultural difference, if some people are just comfortable around the gringa now, or if it's disrespect.

All I know is that in the last two days, TWO ladies have commented on whether or not I am a virgin.

The first is this sassy teacher, who was explaining to me the difference between a Senora and a Senorita. "Senoras are women who have children and aren't virgins," she said. "And senoritas are unmarried virgins. So although you're not a virgin, you're not married, so you're still a senorita."

I nearly choked.

This woman and I have never had a personal chat about my virginity. We aren't particularly close, although I sometimes do appreciate her bluntness.

I don't know if it's because I'm foreign and they assume all American girls are walking Paris Hiltons- short dress wearing, no underwear at all, ready to jump on the first interested man, be he 15 or 55- or because I've been dating for Justin for two years and we aren't married and that shocks them- but she said it so matter of factly as though it was a well known fact.

Then, my host mom today was talking to me on the balcony outside their home. The crowded balcony that is in front of the food market and right next to the meat shop. So then she asks me point blank: "Do you have relations with your boyfriend?"

So much for subtlety.

It makes me mad because I don't think that is something you should just talk about openly- I dont think it's anyone's business. But in a heavily Catholic town, there is still so much secrecy, shame, and judgement surrounding sex. I am constantly told that the Ecuadorian woman is very conservative and waits until marriage to have sex. But I know students who have sex- and who use birth control- and who have to escape to another town to do it. It's not that people don't have sex here, they just hide it. Not just from the judgement of their families, but from the ears and judgements of their whole community, who love nothing more than to talk of the corruption of the young.

Of course, this only relates to women- men go to brothels together on any night of the week. Goign to a prostitute is not a big deal for a man. It's joked about. It's accepted. But the woman- the woman is expected to be as pure as the snow on Chimborazo.

This stuff doesn't just happen here- it happens everywhere, especially in the good ole US of A. Remember the HPV Vaccine Controversy when people argued about whether getting the vaccine would turn girls promiscuous? And when it became safe for boys, people only cared about whether it was safe? The same idea applies here. Boys can do whatever they want, girls need to protect themselves and save themselves until they say "I do."

Some people still have the idea that virgins are pillars of strength and virture- and that nonvirgins are dirty, easy, or vile. That makes no sense to me. A woman could do a thousand good things- cooking dinner every night for their mom, saving babies from fires, curing cancer- but if she's an unmarried virgin she is still worth less than a married one. She's still tainted. Damaged goods. Not as worthy.

It still happens in the states with the preaching of abstinence only education. Men go with their daughters to Purity Balls, and girls as young as 8 pledge to their fathers that they will be "pure" until marriage. Teens are still given promise rings and take "virginity pledges" to wait until marriage. All of this doesn't work- it just spreads the idea that sex is bad unless under the cloak of marriage. That being a virgin is the best way to be.

I highly reccommend everyone to read The Purity Myth

Maybe if enough people do, society will start to challenge and shed our old beliefs about virgins, like one sheds a really itchy and uncomfortable polyester coat after years and years of sweating in it. I don't expect to change anyone's minds here, but hey, maybe one day I'll grow the cajones (balls) to confront the issue instead of shirking it. Or maybe I'll just end up doing what most people do to sexuality- sweep it under the rug, and the go back to telling chisme.

Time will tell.

Last Wednesday, May 9th, I had a program with JSS (Junior Secondary School) Form 2 girls from the school in my village, which included girls from my village Chinchang & the neighboring village Taffiesi. Grade-wise, it’s the equivalent of 8th graders back in America, but the students here are not even close to an average American 8th grader’s academic performance. The program was spearheaded by another PCV who sent out a message to all PCVs in Ghana saying that there was funding to do a program for young girls called Take Your Daughter To Work Day, so I requested to receive funding & got it. Some of the goals of the project were to encourage girls to pursue and develop goals for the future, encourage continuing their education (academics or technical skills to acquire new life skills), provide examples of various career opportunities for their future, promote positive mentorship between youth and adults, & to acknowledge the success of women in the workplace.

It took me forever to try to think of a Sisaala woman in Tumu that held a respectable job outside of the norm of being a teacher, cook, or small shop owner. I couldn’t think of any that I knew of. That’s why I always tell myself, I spent a reasonable amount of time in Tumu before coming to my village for a reason – resources. I called my friend Celia, a Danish health worker, who had a woman named Fadilah in mind immediately & I couldn’t ask for anyone better. Fadilah came from a nearby village, so she grew up with the same cultural background as the girls from my school. She was determined to go to school & completed SSS (Senior Secondary School) & continued onto nursing school. She spent a little less than 2 years working at a small health clinic when she was moved to head nurse at the health clinic in Nabugabelle, a village on the same road as mine but just 3 villages beyond, & now she is known as one of the best nurses in her field in the Sisaala area. She was just the woman I was looking for to carry out the program.

I then just had to figure out the logistics. Who would make cheap enough food for “take away” in Tumu so that the girls going to the program could eat lunch? Who could provide drinks that weren’t pure water sachets & could easily be transported out to the village without worrying about lugging glass bottles to Nabugabelle & back to the store? Once I got those answers after walking throughout Tumu from early morning to late afternoon, I felt relieved because at least that is all I had to spend my allotted money on. And thank goodness that’s all I had to spend the money on because I already had to take some money out of my own Peace Corps pay to purchase the drinks. My Danish health worker friends were nice enough to offer the girls a ride from Chinchang to Nabugabelle & back for free in their off-roading work cars because they said that they could count my program as a joint program for them as well to educate the girls about some health topics.

The program couldn’t have run more smoothly than it did. All 17 girls were allowed by their parents to come to the program, the headmaster & their teachers approved, Celia & Rasmus couldn’t have been better drivers on our terrible washed-out road, & Fadilah really became a mentor to all of the students. She spoke about all of her struggles in life, successes & failures, & how she had to be motivated to go through school to then return to where she grew up & help the people of her village & other surrounding villages when the rest of the other nurses from her program took jobs in southern Ghana. Fadilah was someone that the girls could relate to, so they listened to her & really took what she said to heart. After asking each of the girls what they wanted to be when they grow up, she explained that it’s important to have goals to work towards, & not to let the village boys get in their way of fulfilling those dreams. After the girls asked her several questions about her job as a nurse, Fadilah had an educational session about cholera & family planning, & then she gave them a tour of the Nabugabelle health clinic.

What a success! None of the 17 girls had ever been to Nabugabelle, but now they were acquainted with the staff of its health clinic & they have a mentor that they seem to trust & look up to. Also, they now know the Danish health workers so whenever they go into Tumu & need someone to talk to there, they can easily talk to them. In addition, the girls have another resource in Tumu in the education department, James the VSO. He came along for the ride because he just usually works in Tumu training teachers, but he thought it would be a great experience to witness a program involving students living in the villages outside of Tumu. Overall, the program went extremely well & I know that more programs like this will come in the future, especially now that the girls have a connection with Fadilah.

A big thanks goes out to the North American Women's Association (NAWA) who funded the program. I had the girls write thank-you notes to the NAWA & they were so thoughtful. Granted, the girls may not be able to write clearly (grammatically & in meaning), but they were so appreciative that they had the opportunity to go on a field trip for the first time in their lives. Funny thing, as I was waiting for them to finish writing their thank-you letters, they took out their school books, so I thought several of them were doing their homework. Nope. Because I provided them with pens & crayons to write these letters, they took their schoolbooks to get ideas for things to draw. So some of these thank-you letters have hand-drawn pictures of the anatomy of a flower, a chemistry lab set up, a computer, wheelbarrow, Ghanaian flag, a house (labeled “here’s a house for you”), flowers made from a pencil & protractor, & hearts with “I love NAWA” written inside of them. I’m telling you, looking over these thank-you notes again make me want to cry because I didn’t think this program made that big a difference to these girls, but apparently it did. They will remember this program for the rest of their lives.

I am one of those people who celebrate their birthday for 2 weeks. It gives me the extra excuse to do everything I love and blow off life’s demands for a few extra days (and of course eat cake for as many days in a row as I want.) I ventured on a 10 day … Keep reading →

"It is so true, that is why it is funny. It is so true, hence funny." This one is worth watching. I laughed my ass off throughout the entire thing...

Here's one part of Guayaquil that remains for the most part unexplored: the city cemetery.

Below is a short intro from the Guayaquil en un minuto series.

The Guy In Charge explains that there are presidents, artists, musicians buried here..."everything that makes the history of a city." (Rough translation.)

After exploring it with friend Whitni, I came to the conclusion that the cemetery, in addition to housing the city's history, is in a sense a microcosm of the city itself.

The Guayaquil city cemetery starts at the base of a hill just north of downtown Guayaquil and sprawls upward and outward to encompass the hilltop and then down its opposite side. The place is vast and has multiple entrances. We entered through a gate right off the main highway leading into Guayaquil. 

The guard took our IDs and ushered us through rather incredulously - I'm guessing the cemetery doesn't see many tourists. Or anyone else for that matter; the whole time we were there, which was all afternoon, we encountered all of one family visiting a grave, and the only other sign of life was a cemetery worker guy walking toward us and I was afraid he was going to yell at us for using our cameras but as it turned out he just wanted to know if we'd like him to paint a grave. We said, No thanks.

This is the section where we entered, a labyrinth of stairs and blocks of graves/tombs...I'm not sure of the exact terminology for these structures, so for lack of a better phrase I will call them what they appear to be: death condominiums. The mid-level-income, rent-an-apartment section of the cemetery, if you will.

There were hundreds upon hundreds of these. Some were stenciled, and others were fancied up with plaques and reliefs. Some had fresh wreaths of flowers, others had been left untouched for what looked like long periods of time.

Foreground: death condominiumsIn the distance: downtown Guayaquil

We came upon rows and rows of empty condos, which was somewhat eerie. Supposedly they are all reserved, and with space running out at the city cemetery, a new one is being built on a hill across town.

His body rests here,his spirit in Heaven,and his memory livesand will live on in our hearts.

After winding our way up and around the side of the hill, the narrow walkways between the death condos opened up to a wider space with graves in the ground.

We had arrived at the "campo" - the countryside - part of the cemetery. It started out as graves lined up in a somewhat orderly manner, with a paved path leading upward. As we went further, we realized that at intervals the path branched off to both sides, in effect creating tiers up the side of the hill. And as we ascended, the less kempt the gravesites became, the more the plantlife pressed in, and the harder it became to discern where the path was. Eventually the rows became individual graves scattered upon the hillside, some better tended than others.

We reached the big cross at the top of the hill. Well, we thought it was the top, but now that we'd reached it we realized it was just one peak obscuring more hillside and yet another ascent.

At that point, the path looked like this:

The light was beginning to fade, we were in dire need of insect repellent, and who knew what sort of wildlife lurked down that fading trail. We decided that the far side of the hill was why the guard took our IDs when we entered the cemetery, and that this would have to be an adventure for another day.

We made our way back down towards the more densely populated portion of the cemetery.

"Daughters of the Charity of San Vicente de Paul"It seems the obligation to live in seclusion lasts...forever?

(These last few pics are Whit's.) Once back on ground level, we walked around the base of the hill, along the highway, towards the city. That's where we found cemetery suburbia...

monumental mansion mausoleums,mansion-like mausoleum monuments,mausolean monument mansions,etc., etc.

Burial site of Victor Emilio Estrada,former President of the Republic of Ecuador.Held office for one year, 1911, before dying of a heart attack.

"Luke! Take these two over to the garage, will you? I want them cleaned up before dinner.""But I was going into Tosche Station to pick up some power converters..."

I mean no disrespect to the dead. It's just that the above mausoleum reminded us of a certain movie set, and what better way to end this post than with a quote from Star Wars.

There is so much great stuff floating around the internet about what it's like to be a Peace Corps Volunteer. I promise to only post the things that I find to be the most accurate. Also funny. This happens to be both.

Ña Annastasia showing the abonos verde carnavalia intercropped with mandioca (This photo is completely unrelated to this blog post... but I like it anyways).

I looked at my facebook page recently, and I realized just how… well, gay it had become. Well over half the links I post are about equal rights, and lgbt news stories. It didn’t used to be that way. In the States, due to my open-minded community, loving family and accepting college town, being queer was not something I thought about that much. It simply wasn’t a big deal. I rarely considered if and how being queer influenced my interactions with people, my safety, or my future. Liking women (and men) was part of who I was, but it wasn’t a big part. Occasionally I might sign a petition or speak up in a conversation if it seemed necessary, but all-in-all I was very casual in my lgbt identity. Because it was rarely something I felt ostracized for, it was never something about which I sought support. But as a Peace Corps volunteer, I have to be closeted in site in order to productively do the development work I came here to do. So now, perhaps due to being closeted, if I’m lucky enough to have an internet signal, I find myself trolling Huffington Post Gay news section for hopeful or shocking news stories. I have started to closely follow equal rights issues in the states (ex: repeal of DADT, North Carolina amendment banning same-sex marriage, President Obama public support for marriage equality). I have become more interested in the advancement of equal rights and acceptance because I now feel the lack of them. Ironically, having to hide my sexuality has made my sexuality more central to my identity.One of the absolute most important reasons to be out, is that people begin to revise their bigoted opinions, when they realize they actually personally know someone who is gay. When it comes to votes, and rights, they realize that their actions will directly affect someone one they know as a person, not just as a sexuality. One of the questions I struggled with for a while, was why doesn’t this apply in Paraguay? Shouldn’t I open here for the same reason I’m open in Indiana?I realized that it doesn’t apply because as an agriculture volunteer, I am here to work with everyonewho has degraded soil on their farm. Bigots deserve access to development workers too. There are already so many barriers to over come to get someone to try something new on their farm, why add something else? I’m not Catholic, but I don’t advertise that to the community for the same reason. In order to work with as many people as I can, I want to present as few barriers as possible. If I were to come out at the end of my service, or several years from now when I come back for a visit, the community will know me as a person. They will know the work I did. They will have to reconcile, the person they know with the sexuality they object to.By not being out, I am able to reach more people and be more effective. But it means I am not able to be a resource for the lgbt youth and adults that live in the community. No one is out, but I have my suspicions about a few folks. I can’t be a role model for them, because they don’t know what we have in common. I can’t come out to them, because it could compromise my position in the community (one well-worn strategy for deflecting suspicion off your self is to become an out-spoken homophobic ass (ex: Ted Haggard, George Rekers, etc). This is the hardest part about not being out in site.There is gay rights movement in Paraguay. Things are changing especially amongst the youth and in the larger towns and cities. But out here in the campo, there is still a long way to go. Poco a poco, I guess.I am about to head back to the States for a much needed vacation. I had heard it said that things pick up in the second year, and that is definitely what has happened for me. I am involved in things at site. There are things I wish I spent less time doing (English classes), and things I wish I spent more time doing (abonos verdes, gardens). But I’m just glad to feel kind of busy for once. Every so often there are mile stones, that I don’t always write about. For example, an old host brother of mine, shyly ask me for information on STI and condoms. I was delighted that he trusted me enough to ask for the information, and did my best to bombard him with the information I had (especially sense health isn’t my sector). Its been 20 months since I came to Paraguay and I have undergone many changes here. I know my two week vacation is not enough time to really find out, but wonder how those changes will effect my interaction with American culture.

See you soon America.

(Sorry, this is not my best written or focused blog post. I promise I’m full of ligament excuses. But I figured I should post it now, and take advantage of the good internet while I could).

April 25th was World Malaria Day! So my friend Hannah, a Health/WATSAN (Water Sanitation) PCV from the Wa East District, & I led a malaria awareness program in Wa, the capital of the Upper West Region.

The morning of the event, Hannah & I, a JSS student from Hannah’s village, & other PCVs Kimmy, Zack, Ryan & Van, went to the Upper West Region’s radio station Progress 98.1 to advertise our event later that day & to give some facts about malaria. Hannah & I were in the hot seats, but Hannah’s JSS student got in some broadcast airtime as well, which he was very excited about. After the radio broadcast but before the program started, 15 UWR PCVs helped to assemble a tent (it was quite a site, I have to say, for the Ghanaians to watch a bunch of white people struggle to put up a tent) so the DJ for the event could put all of his equipment under it. We also set up a mosquito net near the tent to spur interest in our event. The entire program took place at the basketball court in Wa near the Metro Mass station & next to all of the ministry buildings so it was in a place where a lot of people would pass by to wonder what was going on. While waiting for the program to begin, some PCVs were keeping the children that had congregated around the DJ occupied by dancing while others started practicing basketball with some of The Unicorns’ players. The Unicorns are Wa’s community basketball team, a team comprised of players in their 20s & 30s that are a lot taller & more experienced at playing basketball than most of us PCVs. And we were to have a basketball game against them after our program…ohh that was something to look forward to haha.

Anyway, because it’s Ghana, you can never expect anything to start on time. So we were still waiting for the DJ to finish setting up & our translator Assana to arrive, a seamstress in Wa & good friend to all PCVs who know her. Once everything was set up, all of the PCVs interacted with the children that had gathered around the DJ’s blaring music by asking them questions like: “How many of you know someone that has died from malaria?”, “Where does malaria come from?”, “What are the symptoms?”, & “How can you prevent malaria?” For every answer they gave, whether it was right or wrong, we gave them “toffee” (what the Ghanaians call all types of candy) for being brave enough to come up to the microphone to participate. Then, we debunked myths about malaria, did a net hanging demonstration, explained how to mend & clean the net, & played a high/low risk game. Although there were only children present in our audience, we hope that they’ll relay the message back home to their families. After the educational part of the program came the promised & well waited for, basketball game. Even though they won the game because we were clearly no match for them, it was still a ton of fun. Plus, they laid off a little…well, actually a lot haha so the score wasn’t more than a 10 point difference but the score didn’t matter to any of us. What mattered is that people came out to be educated on malaria. Our final “take-away” message was that it is easier to prevent malaria than have to cure it, so start preventing yourself now if you haven’t already.

SWAT Malaria!

Hannah & I beginning the World Malaria Day event in front of the tent on the basketball court in Wa.

My school took most of the day off and all the teachers went to the beach to spread out tarps and have a feast in my honor! The Principal, Vice Principal and Teachers gave speeches and there was an Islamic prayer session. They presented me with a ring with the name of the school engraved inside. I tried for 4 hours to include a video, but my internet connection is too slow.

They even had a cooked turkey. I am holding its neck and head in the photo at the end of this blog.

I feel so loved here! I have such good friends in the states who have walked this journey with me, just an internet connection away, amazing Peace Corps Volunteers and staff who have been an integral part of my stay here and students and teachers who will always be in my heart.

My daughter, Katrina, who was a PCV in Africa (Malawi 1997-2000) said it well:

Those last few weeks are REALLY hard, probably as hard as or harder than the first few weeks. You're mentally straddling two worlds, trying to prepare for leaving one of them pretty much completely. It's hard to stay engaged when you know you're leaving soon. These weeks are going to fly by.

And they have. One more day to pack, one day to teach, one day for graduation, then I leave my village, 3 days in Surabaya to complete reports, check for TB, parasites, do a hard core malaria flush, close bank account, take a language competency test, turn in books, life jacket, bicycle helmet, unused medicine, write my description of service for my permanent file, the last volunteer report form with details about the education progress of all my students, a final interview with the country director then I'm on a flight home!

I want to share with you the bounty of love that I have received recently -

Appreciation from friends, fellow volunteers and students:

Dear Colleen

I just read your blog.

Have a safe trip back to the U.S.

You are an amazing woman!

A

(My reply)

Oh thanks so much, A.

I got tears when I read your message.

I really appreciate all the love and support you have given me during this journey.

I really am not amazing. I am sitting here - it's 4:38am, I woke up with the call to prayer, I'm already sweating and I feel too tired to go outside walking like I usually do because I'm coming down with a cold and I realized that I sent out that email and didn't even spell the word "only" right and the first version of the blog had a email attached at the bottom that originally inspired me to write but I forgot to delete it!

I'm a mess.

It takes someone beautiful to see something amazing in all that!

Love and a hug and see you soon.

Colleen

Wonderful blog, Colleen. I think part of it should be required reading fro every new PCV recruit.

I think you may enjoy this song about senior moments - not that you or I have any of them.

http://www.rtbot.net/play.php?id=Xv1tMioGgXI

J

Dear, dear Colleen -

My apologies this is not the nice hand-written note I had planned on the beautiful paper sitting on my desk beside me just for this purpose. Things happen.

I am so completely sad that you are leaving us. I comfort myself in the fact that you are probably so completely not sad to be returning to your family and grandkids. It has been a long road, and I think you've served your time to deserve some quality time with them.

Before I came to Indo, your blog was one that I read most. I even showed it to my mom and said, "See this is Colleen. She is doing it. Maybe we'll be friends and she'll show me how things go." I am not sure if it comforted my mother, but I hope her knowing I'd have a role-model here would help a little. After that, she still asks about you, and I believe she is still a devoted follower of your blog (you'll maybe have to start a baby-sitting blog so she won't lose out on that connection).

When we first arrived, it seemed like you were really the only one trying to prepare us for things, to try to leave some trail for us or make the path easier. With the blog of things we should know, plastic bags for the ladies, maps of Surabaya left at swearing in - these are things that should have been provided - but if not for you, we never would have had them. I thank you so much for those little things.

You also gave me probably the best piece of advice I've received for serving. After showing us how to put a condom on a banana : ), you told us that our first job was not teaching English, it was not secondary projects or even representing America - it was getting ourselves through to the next day. It was doing what we need to do to make it to that next day and to find a way to be happy here. That, above all things, has kept me going.

I was also super-siked to get to travel to Bali with you - to share bus and train experiences, crowd into a little room with you and 3 other ladies, see you finesse drivers and master all directions everywhere, to hear all about your wonderful life and your matter-of-fact take on experiences - to have you meet my brother and to share that horn implants are not an immediate deal breaker in a relationship. Colleen, it has been a supreme treat to be able to be here with you for a little while. It makes me wish we had longer together. You are such an inspiration in all you do, and I am certainly better for you having been here to show me the way.

I am so happy you will get to enjoy your time with your family, and I really hope you will visit NY at some point if I can ever make it back there after this.

Thanks again, Colleen. I can't wait to see you on the other side (the US)!

Much love, E

(my reply)

Oh E,

Thank you! All the love you expressed has made me cry.

I honestly, really, truly, do NOT deserve all this praise.

I survived. Not especially gracefully or with any mega wisdom.

Thank you so much for this message. I really feel appreciated I do hope we get to meet up on the "other side."

Love and hugs, Colleen

"oMaa,..............I never forget yOu,,...

i will remember you in my life forever,,.......

I LOVE YOU,,...."

N.

And finally one from a person I will label “anonymous”

Dear: Oma Collen Young

Oma, I know there must be a farewell meeting in every.

It feels heavy when I had to part with you, but it is the truth.

The time you work in Indonesia has ended.

I hope you will always remember me, my school and my country.

I also hope we can meet again someday.

I am writing this letter to the accompaniment of tears oma…

Because the weight of when I know I will not see you again and maybe may English lessons will boring without you.

Oma pray, I can be successful, so I can visit to your country and meet you…

This might be my gift is not expensive, but maybe it makes you always remember me

Oma I like you eyes, your smile and the way you teach, you can make we laugh

Thank you so much oma

If one day you miss me, please send a email to me, and say that you miss me.

Oma, please don’t tell anyone if I’m sending you a letter, I expect this to be a secret between you and me….

Please replay my letter….

Dear anonymous,

I am sharing your secret letter with the world. They need to know that wonderful students like you are waiting for them if they too sign up to be Peace Corps Volunteers. But I will keep your name a secret in my heart.

I really enjoyed your letter.

I do hope that you will always remember me too.

It would be wonderful if you continued to be an excellent student and one day would come to America! Yes, that would be great~

I hope your life is going well.

See you in school for the rest of this week.

Oma

PS - Your gift is perfect! I just have a little card with some pictures that I will give to every student on Friday, but I want you to know that YOU ARE SPECIAL!

Here's the turkey...

And here's the card I have all the students, teachers and staff...

It's true! Maybe I'll head down to West Virginia this year for the big fest :)

Yeah for gluten-free-ers! Buckwheat is not, despite its name, related to wheat at all! It's not even a grain! What a poser... Buckwheat is actually a fruit seed that can be transformed into a gluten-free version of one of my childhood faves - cream of (buck)wheat (try this yummy recipe)! It has a wealth of nutrients your body needs, including manganese, magnesium, copper, and zinc, and a load of fiber and all 8 essential amino acids! It's on my shopping list and I'll most like buy the Bob's Red Mill version, a reliable gluten-free company.

It's my favorite post of the week day--Wednesday! I wish every blog post were about old and awkward pictures. Today's is no exception :) Get ready for some really old and super embarrassing pictures. But first, you've gotta have a little background.

Meet Kyle and Bayley*picture stolen from Facebook*

I met Kyle {the groom} when I moved to Norman 11 years ago. He's a year older than me, and although we went to different high schools, we became good friends at church. Summer of 2002, we traveled to Los Angeles on a mission trip. Kyle and one of his best friends, Brandon, sat by me while I used a CALLING CARD {way before the days of cell phones} to talk to my parents during the trip. Pretty sure our friendship was solidified after that.

During my sophomore year of high school, I took Kyle to our winter semi-formal at Norman North. This is where the super embarrassing pictures come into play. And it involves a funny side story with my PC friends in Ukraine.

Side story: At some point over the last few months, my friends and I {in Ukraine} were discussing the evolution of clothes. Kym and I got to talking about our old prom dresses...and eventually I described the dress {if you can call it that?} that you'll see below. This was during the time that showing your belly was uber popular. So, for the record, I thought this outfit was incredibly cool at the time. But, now, I realize how really embarrassing it is.

the top of the outfit...not too bad!

There it is, in all of its glory! Sheer overlay, pants, and black lace. I can't imagine what Kyle's parents thought of my outfit.

best of buds--Brandon and Kyle

obligatory picture with the parentsWally (who happens to be my dentist!), Lydia, Kyle, and Cathy (who happened to be my boss for 6 years!)

So now that those pics are out of the way, we'll start with some other goodies of Kyle. Don't worry Bayley, yours are coming too :)

Kyle and Darren--ballers.

some youth event...Kyle is in the back left doing one of his infamous dance moves.

Kyle's mad dance skills. Hope I get to see this in person again at the wedding...

totally in his element!

going to see Tim McGrawDarren, Amy, Nora, Kyle, Jacey, Lydia

Wonderful memories after Timmy...a flat tire in the parking garage!

Harry Potter? Or Steve Urkel?

Kyle, Darren, David, Bennett

hanging out in Seattle--2005

After high school, Kyle and I both headed to OU. We would see each other occasionally, sometimes through studio classes in the College of Architecture. After a few years though...he began to come around more. That is, once he met Bayley :)

Bayley, now an architecture grad from OU, and I met during the good ol' days of studio. We happened to be in a class together that involved combining my interior design class with her architecture class. After that, our paths crossed every day.

Lydia and Bayley {with Robert in the background, who actually introduced Kyle and Bayley}

Winter White Out--Bayley, Lydia, Drew

Lydia, Bayley, Drew, Beth

Bayley and one of her best friends, Drew

I know I'm being long-winded, but their engagement story is one of the sweetest things ever. Bear with me.

I can't remember all the details, but the pictures speak wonders. According to a Japanese legend, whoever folds 1000 paper cranes is granted a wish. So, Kyle got to folding...

and folding...

and folding...

His wish? For Bayley to marry him.

Pretty magical, isn't it?

So happy for the both of y'all :) Happy Wedding Week! And just because this is one of the best engagement shots ever...

Kyle & Bayley--May 19, 2012

Overdue Update!

Wow I haven’t written a blog entry in four months! I have been kind of Busy I guess. Since I last wrote school has started of course. It has definitely been a lot easier this time around. I know a lot of the kids and they know me so it makes things run more smoothly in class. Also the things that use to bother me about the school system last year, don’t bother me as much and I have learned to go with the flow. I walk into school and there is no class and no one told me. I don’t get frustrated I just take it as an opportunity to go check my email, get some ice cream or take a walk! I am still doing my community class two times a week. The class is going well. It’s fun and I have a good group! I think they enjoy it and are learning. My mom and Brittany came to visit last month! It was a lot of fun. They felt like Nicaragua experts this time around! We went to the Atlantic coast for a few days and then came back and stayed in my area for the rest of the time. They got to see a volcano also which we didn’t get to do last time!

So I only have six more months of service left! I can’t believe it. It’s crazy to think about. I have been trying to enjoy my time here in Nicaragua while looking towards the future as well. That can be a little hard sometimes. I am excited to go home but at the same time I am trying to live in the moment because I know that when I get back I will miss living here and all the friends I have made and the crazy experiences. For example a few weeks ago I had to go to a peace corps meeting in a town near by. So I got on the little bus but before we left my town the bus has a flat tire. So they stopped to change the tire. I was calm and said ok this shouldn’t take long. Twenty minutes later I wasn’t as calm and was already late for the meeting. So I decided to get off the bus and catch the next one even though the bus driver said “they were almost done”. So as I am walking down the street the bus I wanted to take passes me… I was not happy. So then I decide to take a taxi because I don’t have time to wait for another bus. I am in the taxi with three other people. As we are heading to our destination. I notice the car slowing down. The taxi driver says “ay no” and I realize that he has run out of gas! At that point I just had to laugh and say is this real? So I had to get out of that taxi and find another taxi… I finally made it to the meeting but of course I was late. As someone said to me the other day I got “Nicaraguaed” lol.

Anyway the next few months with be exciting! I am going to the Palo de Mayo on the Atlantic Coast at the end of the month. I went last year so it should be fun. Also I have two different groups of friends coming to visit! So I will be a busy lady. That’s all for now. Peace.

PS for some reason these pictures are huge!!!

Exploring Colca Canyon, considered the deepest canyon in the world and nearly twice as deep as the Grand Canyon in the United States at 4,160 meters. The canyon is surrounded by small towns founded during Spanish colonial times. It is also home to the Andean Condor, so we did a little bird watching as well!

It's Wednesday night, and my momma went back to America today. It's been an excellent week...going through and telling you everything that my mother and I did wouldnt even do it justice!! But here a small recap in a few photos:

1. We saw a lot of beautiful sights with my good friend Arnaud.

2. We "na gostied" a lot....ate a lot of great food!!

(that's Emilija!!)

3. Spent a lot of time with my fantastic DANCERS!! I love these kids like they were my own.

(this one looks like Bobi is possessed!!)

(their new dance)

4. Visited Matka lake for Mother's Day!!

I mean...we did A LOT. Mom met nearly everyone that's ever met me in Macedonia. We ate a lot. We traveled a lot. She met Lozovo and my host family. She met the whole PC staff. It was great. It was definitely sad when she left this morning, but she is almost home now, so I feel ok.

I won't get into work or anything, bc it has been stressing me out a lot lately. I really wish some people at my school would appreciate what all I've done...anyways, here's two videos to tie you over!! On of them is kind of old, and mostly involves food. Here it is:

The next video is of one of the recent performances my Zumba girls did. I loved it!! It was for an event my mayor put on. Check it out:

Other than that, here's your quote of the day:

If you don't know what you want, you end up with a lot you don't.
Chuck Palahniuk

I'll start off with saying I'm no social scientist, or any kind of scientist for that matter. But I do greatly enjoy researching health topics online, comparing data/studies, and browsing health blogs.

Today I came across a blog post in the Washingtonian Well+Being blog about fast eating and diabetes. After reading the fairly short blog post (note I did not read the actual study right off the bat) I realized it was hard to tell if the connection between eating quickly and diabetes was correlation or causation, just from what the blog said. My concern here is that even if the study itself is clear on the study outcome, the more widely-spread blog post (which is shorter than the study, listed in a popular magazine, spread throughout twitter, etc.) wasn't clear to me - meaning it might not be clear to others - leading to the main concern that health information isn't so...well, clear! This is probably an issue with most media: issues being misunderstood, rumors starting, falsified information floating around, etc. Regarding this topic in particular and from my understanding of reading the study (despite its name "Eating fast increase diabetes risk"), it's not true that eating quickly will CAUSE diabetes, but it's associated with diabetes among other risks cited in the study (exercise habits, family history, weight, etc.). So if you eat faster than the average person, you are not 2x more likely to develop diabetes from eating quickly on its own, but you are 2x more likely to be at risk for diabetes because of association with other unhealthy habits/characteristics ...in my understanding.

It may seem common knowledge to many/some people, but I've often heard claims like "Depo-provera causes weight gain" (the false statement) after someone heard that "Depo-provera is associated with weight gain" (the true statement). Depo-provera increases your appetite; it doesn't make your body gain weight on its own. There's a diff! This is where my interest in nutrition science and cellular activity comes from. I want to know what something literally does to my body, not just what is associated with what.

Clarifying this issue is important because when we hear claims like "people who spend time outside every day are healthier" some people could think all they need to do is go outside and they'll be healthy! When in reality it is a correlation between healthy habits (like going outside and being active) and being healthy. While having healthy habits does make you healthy, just picking one associated action won't.

In my first draft of this post I included a few crappy examples of what I'm trying to explain (kind of like the paragraph immediately above - my attempt to verbalize what I'm talking about). But the more I researched (ah, yes! more research leads to being more informed!) I found an academic article discussing this issue! Please refer to:

Russo, Federica, and Jon Williamson. "Interpreting Causality in the Health Sciences."International Studies in the Philosophy of Science 21.2 (2007): 157-70. Web. <http://www.lofs.ucl.ac.be/fisc/staff/russo/files_writing/interpreting_causality.pdf>.

I have made an effort to keep this blog relatively positive, but I also want to tell the truth. Here is the truth- sometimes this job is a lot harder than I imagined. Don’t get me wrong, this is a truly amazing experience and I love my life in Rwanda but lately teaching has been [...]

Gah, I made a Wordpress site and was then told people in Ethiopia have no issue with Blogger at all. I guess it depends on where you are in Ethiopia, but I desperately hope it's somewhere where I can use Blogger because I find it easier to use than Wordpress. That being said, I'll be using this site until I no longer can.

For being a volunteer that's supposed to get a living stipend, I'm spending a lot of money on getting ready to go. Medical bills were way more than I expected (that root canal in January didn't help), but I expected something there. Last week, I went to REI and spent 800 dollars.

And sure, I returned a couple of items yesterday (a water purifier [because PC lends the latter out, not cuz the water is clean] and a backpacking cooking set), but that is still around $650.

Granted, some of the stuff in my cart I could have done without, but I think spending money on things is how my mom is taking control of my safety and well-being. Do I need a $120 raincoat? No. But it makes her feel better than I have one.

Still, it's a lot of the little things that add up: microfiber towels (cuz otherwise they don't dry quickly enough in the rainy season), a headlamp, a Swiss army knife, hiking socks, water proof underwear, luggage locks, light weight shirts, gloves, measuring cups, rechargeable batteries. And this doesn't count all the skirts and shoes I bought: as a teacher I have to dress conservatively and professionally (skirts below the knees and closed toe shoes [that must be able to last two years in rough conditions] aren't cheap).

I'll probably end up bringing way to much, but if it calms my mom down I can lug another 20lbs through a 3 hr hike. I'll only have to do that once. But I'm just saying, for a free adventure there's a lot of money being pumped into this trip.

I think garage sales are strange. Enough said. I also think living in Congress Park is kickass. I have cool neighbors. Well I actually know none of them, but I have some fellow crossfitters that live close-by (you know who you … Continue reading →

I just had a student ask me for help with writing a lesson plan. I said “Of course, when (knowing that his lesson plan was due tomorrow, so it would be sometime today)?” and he said “Today.” Sometimes I forget that some things, like cultural phrases or idioms or traditions, are difficult to translate. I have had this problem many, many, many times when speaking in Portuguese.

I ask “Quando vai chegar? Quando é a aula? Quando podemos reunir?” (When will he arrive?, When is the class?, When can we meet?), looking for a specific time (because whoever I’m talking to knows that I know what day the thing will be). Almost always I get an answer like “today” or “tomorrow” or “Thursday” because it is something that will happen on that day. When you ask ‘when’ in Portuguese (or Mozambican Portuguese, at least), you are asking for a day or date. You have to actually say “A que horas?” (At what time?) to find out the specific time something will happen. Now, whenever I say quando will something happen, my friends will just look at me until I say ‘a que horas’ because they know that is what I want to know.

When my student responded to my English ‘when’ with ‘today’, I thought about why that might be (other than that he was directly translating). Why is it that I, as an American, want to know the specific time when I say when and why do my colleagues, as Mozambicans, want to know a general time (as in day) when they say quando. It is not because when and quando have different meanings. They are interchangeable when you are translating from one language to the other… but not from culture to culture. As an American (and as me, personally), I rush, am always pressed for time, have to multitask, thrive on being busy, have to know things way in advance, and need to know the exact time something will happen so that I can be there early. A lot of this has changed since arriving here because time is not the same… not as important…

Deadlines and meeting times are (at times) relative. Doing more than one thing at once seems pointless- why not do one thing with attention, what’s the point in doing so many things at once? If I try to read or study or grade while eating dinner with a Mozambican friend, he thinks I’m absolutely crazy (probably a little rude), and demand that I stop. If we are having dinner, we are having dinner and a conversation. Enjoy that while you can, do your studying or reading or grading after, it can wait! Forty five minutes can be spent in a four hour meeting reviewing what was discussed at the last meeting. Why not go in depth to show that the previous meeting actually had meaning?

When I walk through town quickly (Estou com pressa- I’m in a rush), I will hear “Professora” or “Teacher” or “Mulungu” from all directions. If I stop to talk to someone, they ask, “Why are you running? You almost didn’t see me!” What is the point in doing all the things I’m doing if I’m not sharing them with other people? If that means walking a little slower… maybe that’s what is needed. Walking quickly shows that you’re late for something…but can you be late for something if meeting times are negotiable? Meetings can start 2 or 3 hours late. (Students can be late for school or class, though.) Events can be planned or announced the day before. If you have the honor of being part of an event, why not accept it, even if it is the day before that you find out about it? To greet someone in Xangana, it requires a lot more time than “hi, how are you? good, I’m fine too”. It goes something like:

A: Good afternoon!B: Good afternoon!A: I am fine.

B: Hmm (meaning okay)

A: My family is fine

B: Hmm

A: My home is okay.

B: Hmm

A: I am healthy.

B: Hmm

A: Work is okay. B: Kanimambo (Thank you)A: Hmm

B: I am fine.A: Hmm

B: My family is fine

A: Hmm

B: My home is okay.

A: Hmm

B: I am healthy.

A: Hmm

B: Work is okay.

A: Kanimambo.

(You say kanimambo or thank you, when you have heard enough and want to share your side.) Why not take the time to actually find out how somebody is, instead of just saying “I’m fine”, when your being fine is related to so many different things- your family, your health, your friends, your work.

I don’t necessarily think that the “Mozambican time” is better than the “American time”, although the relaxed feeling is something that I love about being here. I go crazy when there are late meetings. I demand that my students arrive to class or meetings on time. I arrive everywhere on time (not early, like in the states, but at least on time). I don’t always stop and have the long greeting conversation. When I’m alone I always multitask (like right now). And really, I do want to know the specific hour, not just the day when I ask quando!

With sunsets like this, how can you not want to take it slow?

We spent about a week and a half in Mozambique where we hit up Indian Ocean beaches, ate seafood, and went snorkeling. All of which are activities we have not been able to do for some time now.

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The highlight of this trip might have to be our 2-day, 1-night sailing excursion to the Bazaruto Archipelago and Two Mile Reef.



The picturesque views of the amazing beaches make it hard to believe your eyes; being there was such a dreamlike tropical paradise. The rich aqua-color of the sea in contrast with the pristine sand is just as perfect as the photos captured.

Meals on the sailing trip were included too. My favorite was the crab and Kevin's the King fish.

We also loved the snorkeling and concluded once and for all that snorkeling must be one of our favorite activities of all time, especially together. (We've snorkeled before in Australia's Great Barrier Reef and I in Fiji and Australia's West Coast.) The intimate experience with the colorful life under the ocean's surface among the diverse coral reef is just unparalleled in beauty and serenity. How we wish we could go for a snorkel every day!

Left is Lauren, our good friend and fellow PCV

The following are not our photos since we didn't have the capability of bringing our camera under water with us, but here are some images of our favorite sea creatures that we saw (upper-left: Mantaray; upper-right: Blue-spotted ray; lower left: Threadfin butterfly fish; lower-right: Moorish idol):

We can't help but feel that, overall, Mozambique and Namibia (especially where we are in the south) are worlds different, Mozambique being more of the untamed "Africa" of the two, in terms of terrain and culture. Mozambique is much greener and more jungle-y and the people more boisterous but perhaps also friendlier. And public transport was more, um, crowded... At one time we were 25 adults plus 5 children plus (live) chickens in a 15-person capacity minibus/ combi/ chapa. But that was one that didn't even break down on us so we aren't complaining! Speaking Spanish in place of Portuguese was also interesting.. beats Khoekhoegowab in our opinion!

Honestly, the photo does not due our packedness justice!Yeah, that guy is holding a chainsaw. No worries.Also done in Namibia of course, but just not quite to such an extreme.

Boys fishing and having themselves a grand ol' time.

Getting excited about the possibility of having a party in our backyard for the 4th of July this year. Sharing some inspirations.

Today, while enjoying a late breakfast, I heard a knock on the door. Since my host mom had already left for work, I answered it. Standing outside were two men in crisp dress shirts.  We said hello to each other … Continue reading →

May 13, 2012So last week was our Close of Service Conference. A few days before that, me and some other PCV’s went to the beach for a couple days to relax before the conference. We had a great time just hanging out and talking about what we’re doing after service and how we’re feeling now that we’re so close to the end.

At COS, after some very long and scary deliberations (we were left to decide all on our own…there are 70 of us), we all decided our COS dates… and I will be flying out of Ghana on the 18th of July…yippee!!!! Nivole is leaving the week before and Chris is flying out the same day as me…but on a different flight L It was so strange at the conference; normally we can’t wait to get out of those things, but this time at the end, when we were done thanking our awesome training staff, no one wanted to leave. We all (70 of us) just kept sitting there because we didn’t want to walk out the door because that meant it was over. This would be our last PC conference and the last time we would all be together…it was sad and really overwhelming to see that we were all feeling the same thing…there were more than a few pairs of misty eyes in the room…but sucking it up like true PCV’s we had a heck of a last night together!

After the conference I went to Accra where Daisy and I were working on a digital memory book for our group. It’s gonna be awesome if we ever get it done. We made up questionnaires that we had the PCV’s answer at the conference and now we are in the process of taking pictures from everyone’s facebook pages. Once we get it finished, it will be available online to view, but can also be ordered as a coffee-table book…I’m really excited about this.

Now I’m back in the village for a few days. During COS I got all sentimental and was really looking forward to coming back to site, but now that I’m here, I’m just bored again. I’m trying to hold a couple meetings this week before I leave again on Wednesday. I don’t really have any reason to be spending time in the village and I got a ton of paperwork from Peace Corps to do. I’m still sewing the market bags for my women’s and batik group…I think I have 4 left to sew…I’m tired of sewing the same thing…it’s boring.

Next week I head up to Kumasi to help with STARS (camp for highschool kids all over Ghana, that PCV’s put on). Before STARS, I’m gonna go up to a monastery you can stay at and hike in the rocks…a lot of people really like it, but I’ve never been. After STARS I’m gonna venture up to the Upper West for a few days since that’s the only region of Ghana I haven’t been in. Then back to the village for a month or so and then on to America to see you fine people!!!

Mixed feelings about all this, but that’s to be expected I guess. I think I’m gonna take the GRE in August and then apply for some Grad schools and PC fellowships. There’s all kinds of stuff in the works: school, epic Northwest road trip, Austin trip, Katie’s wedding…and that’s just through December J

j

24 April 2012 On the day I texted several people bragging about mango season, I saw a scorpion in my hut.  I think this may be the perfect metaphor for hot season.  When I returned home from summit and grant … Continue reading →

I was doing some research on the Peace Corps Wiki (which is VERY helpful!). Just go to www.peacecorpswiki.org . There's a TON of information, so at first, I was pretty overwhelmed. After a while of browsing, it got pretty easy to navigate around it. Anyway, the point of this post is to give everyone my address while I'm in Pre-Service Training (PST). It will be about a 10-12 week training period. When sending mail, Peace Corps advises you to write "Air Mail" on the envelope. Another thing, all packages are opened and inspected in Accra (the capital of Ghana) at the post office in the presence of a Peace Corps staff member. So keep that in mind when sending me things :-) So here is my address:

http://evainathens.blogspot.com/2012/03/major-

cleaning-in-my-mail-box-yippee.html

Jessica Keeton PCT

Peace Corps/Ghana

PO Box 5796

Accra-North, Ghana

West Africa

Mail takes about 2-3 weeks to arrive. After my training period, I will move to a new location and have a new address. I promise to get that address to you once I figure it out!

And to wrap things up, here's a little video with an addicting song. Enjoy!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N1wUirNlR0U

School is coming to a close, and so is my first year of service in Moldova. My partner Aliona told me yesterday that she felt as though two days had passed since we first starting working together in the village of Cojuşna in August. I feel as though this year went faster than my freshman [...]

Peace Corps Partners With Babson College

MarketWatch (press release)

WELLESLEY, Mass., May 16, 2012 /PRNewswire via COMTEX/ -- The Peace Corps welcomes Babson College in Wellesley to its Paul D. Coverdell Fellows program, a graduate fellowship that offers financial assistance to returned Peace Corps volunteers (RPCVs) ...

and more »

The Namib desert outside of Swakopmund, Namibia.Sandboarding in the Namib Desert, Namibia.Quad biking is actually really fun out in the desert dunes. Namib Desert, Namibia.Catching the sunrise on Dune 45, Sousselvei, Namib-Naukluft Park, Namibia.Atop the Sousselvei Dunes, Namib-Naukluft Park, Namibia.One of the many dunes in the Sousselvei, Namibia.A fisherman piloting a mokoro in the Okavango Delta, Botswana.Cruising in a mokoro in the Okavango Delta, northern Botswana.

The desert is a cruel and unforgiving place. It’s also where a nation, Namibia, sits between two of the largest deserts in the world. The west coast of Namibia is the sand dune Namib Desert which houses the world famous areas of the Sousselvei and Skeleton Coast. To the east is the bushier Kalahari Desert. This arid Kalahari plain extends from northern South Africa to the Congo border, and from Namibia to Botswana. Look on a map of Namibia and you won’t see many settlements. There is a reason: no water. Namibia is (along with Mongolia) the least densely populated country on earth. Coming here from Rwanda was a night-and-day situation. Here is a land of vast stretches with nobody around. In fact, on my drive from Swakopmund to Sousselvei (five hours on a gravel road) I came across one building: a gas station with no gas. Now look at a map of Botswana. Most of the country (with the exception of the east and south border areas) has very few settlements due to the Kalahari Desert. It’s no different than looking at a map of Nevada. Undoubtedly the most famous part of Botswana is the Okavango Delta. The largest inland delta discharges all of the Okavango River water into dry salt pans in the middle of the desert (this was the area that Planet Earth filmed their first hour of the series). As a result Botswana has some of the best wildlife viewing opportunities in the world. Traveling in a mokoro (carved out wooden boat), you rarely encounter water deeper than a few feet. The past two weeks have been a journey of going through these two deserts in search of their best activities and most scenic opportunities. Enjoy the photos.

For whatever reason, friends and family question whether or not I am happy in Togo. Yes, The Land of The Free has a great deal to offer: equality among men and women, reliable electricity, wireless Internet (Oh how I want that!), coffee shops, Häagen-Dazs Five ice cream (lemon flavor), and bratwursts. Although after almost a year of living in Togo—even without its NYC-style hot dog stands and McDonald’s Filet-O-Fish sandwiches (Judge all you want! I don’t care.)—it still manages to make me smile. The happy-or-not inquiry is usually followed by, “I am not unhappy.” And it is the truth. Peace Corps Togo is an experience for which I asked. Peace Corps Togo, though at times quite a challenge (culturally, physically and intellectually), is unlike anything else I have ever come across in all of my travels. And that, friends and family, makes me happy.

There are, of course, other little Togolese idiosyncrasies that either prompts a smile, a mini surge of laughter, or a snicker with a headshake.

So what makes me smile?The sound of my neighbor’s wife sweeping the compound outside my house early in the morningThe sceneryPhoto Cred: Katy ToddWaking up to “Lããfie!” “Lããfie!” “Lããfie!” from the street, which is simply women and men greeting one another quickly on their way to workBiking around the city—working in a sense—and someone yells, “Yendoutien!” I turn my head and slow down to see who has called my name and realize a friend wants me to sit and drink tchakpa. The best is when this happens before noonTogolese fashion sense and older womenPhoto Cred: Katy ToddPassing donkeys on the street while bikingTaxi-motorcycle drivers sleeping horizontally on their bikes (anytime of the day)Truck drivers taking naps under semis on the highway because it is the only place with shadeEating spicy spaghetti at 8amTaking naps on the floor Having conversations with people while biking on the streetAn older woman at the market who sells only grapefruit and limes—we greet one another with the standard greeting but she is so kindhearted and she gives me great deals on grapefruitAchu, my site mate’s dog, is very strange (but cute) and whines every time I see him even if it’s only been 24 hours since I last saw him.Women offering their sons to me for marriagePassed out PCVs from either too much sun, too much work or too much… People telling me I am too old (at 25) not be marriedSeeing all the items motorcycle drivers attach to their motorcycles

Photo Cred: Katy ToddNeedless to say these are not the only tidbits of Togo that make me grin from ear to ear…just happens often enough to make me remember.

Inevitably I will add to this list once more spring to mind, or, that is, the next time I smile.

Until next time…

New tennis shoes for a little girl in my village from the US military/African Alliance

Visiting students house in a nearby village

Chicken tajineNew baby, Abdulla in village

Kids posing behind house wall

Dar Taliba blooming roses in entry

Association building, view from field

Kids in village

Workout station

Common scene in the crop fieldsTemporary door at new building

Tabuli salad on a hot day

Despite the 107 degree weather these past weeks, the locals get out as if it were no problem, I try to stay cool inside or getting an occasional pop-cycle from the hanut filled with sugar or eating watermelon and staying hydrated with electrolytes. It's downright oppressive...I've stayed away from soda, but every now and then a cold cola from a glass bottle with sugar is just the ticket. On a different note, I am getting a lot of personal and awkward questions these days from the locals such as, what's it like to have a menstral cycle, what do I think of Obama and my political views, why am I not married yet or have several husbands? Same sex relationships in America, what am I going to do with all my belongings when I leave Morocco? Why don't I wear a jilaba and why do I do things alone? Do woman in America get hit by their husbands like Morocco? I want to be honest and my approach has always been to think of the US as a whole and to keep my personal beliefs aside as much as possible. Perhaps these questions are good as it might mean I have reached a new level trust with my community. A recent experience with a co-worker proved to be educational in terms of personal space and freedom. As she leaned over and grabbed my shirt, she got a glimpse of my tattooed arm. With disgust and surprise, she reminded me that this is very shameful in Morocco and against Muslim faith. I proceeded with care to let her know I am not Muslim and it's not shameful from where I come from and I want to respect the culture here which is why I am covered a lot like the scarf she wears on her head. Without her fully understanding, we got to a place of agreement which is all that mattered. I am saddened that the freedom that I have is not attainable in Morocco and although she may feel free enough, this is what divides us and our cultures.

16 April 2012 Sitting in the Kolda Regional house waiting for Monday so that the Eaux et Forets(Department of Water and Forests) will be open and I can buy vetiver grass for an upcoming project has gotten me thinking about … Continue reading →

As I hope most of you remembered last Sunday was Mother’s Day in America. In Paraguay, Mother’s Day is a national holiday that occurs every May 15th. For some reason Paraguay is the only country in the entire world that celebrates it on that date. I have absolutely no idea why Mother’s Day celebrations here on that day, but if I had to guess I would say that it is because Independence Day is May 14th and in order to extend the holiday they make May 15th, Mother’s Day, a national holiday as well. Traditions here are not what they are like in America, in fact I cannot even get anyone to explain what makes the day different than any other day other than stores are mostly closed to give moms a day of rest. I have been living in Paraguay for a little over seven months now breaking my previous record of longest time spent away from home by three months. I live by myself, hand wash my laundry, cook, clean, and try to maintain some level of order in a place where so many things are tricky to get accustomed to. In many ways it is a trial by fire to learn how, on the most basic levels, to take care of myself. That got me thinking about how I miss my own mom who isn’t here to help. Mom and Me Not having mom around might sound corny for a lot of people, but I have to say that I miss her terribly. I have absolutely no doubt in my mind that it was her upbringing and emphasis on broadening my horizons starting at a very young age that gave me the confidence not only to join the Peace Corps, but to adapt to the various challenges that this experience entails. For those of you who don’t know Deborah Schultz she is without a doubt one of the people I admire most in this world. Not only was she able to put herself though her undergraduate studies as a history major becoming the first member of my family to do so, but she continued to further her education by earning not one but 2 masters degrees on full fellowships from 2 very prominent universities. The drive to do something that no one in her family had ever done before laid a crucial foundation for my own education as an undergraduate. She constantly encouraged me to study what I enjoyed, get involved in as many things as I wanted to, and was always there to relish in my successes and consol me in my during my challenges. If it weren’t for her I would have never been able to do what I am doing now, and although I wasn’t home during this past Mother’s Day to make breakfast or take her out to eat you can bet that she was on my mind throughout the day. So considering I wrote this yesterday on Paraguayan Mother’s Day I will contend that this entry was posted only a day late. I love you Mom and I am sure we will talk soon! As for everything else that is going on I currently feel very busy with everything that is happening. Slowly, and by slowly I mean snail slow, people in the community are starting to become familiar with my presence. I notice more people calling my name out every time I leave the house, and have interacted with several new families thanks to my relationship with their children during my lessons at the school. Presently, I have started working on the garden project that has to date included a class on nutrition and how eating different vegetables benefits our health in different ways, and another concerning organic fertilizer and ecosystems. My goal for this week is to dig seed beds at the school and finally plant the vegetables, but I was informed that this week is exam week, so we will have to see how all that goes. I am feeling cautiously optimistic about the garden. I notice that the teachers take pictures of me doing lessons or when I do any work that is related to the garden. I get the impression that the documentation of my work with the garden is going to be sent to some sort of government entity to justify that the money invested in the school was properly used for the garden program and not for other things, but I have no way of confirming that. The reason I have not felt comfortable about planting the garden yet is mainly because we don’t have a consistent source of water that flow to where the garden is located. In the months leading up to the project I was constantly preaching the need to put the garden where there was a water source. That did not quite happen the way I hoped. What did happen was the purchase of piping that will flow to a faucet inside the fenced off garden area. The problem is that the faucet hasn’t been put in yet meaning the kids will have to carry a bucket of water around a building to the garden in order to water it. Carry a large bucket of water is extremely unpleasant and quite heavy especially if you are a 4th grader. I personally feel that if I were a kid in school and the teacher asked me to carry buckets of water every day multiple times over a 50 meter distance that I would quickly lose interest in the garden pretty quickly. Hopefully, that problem will be resolved sooner rather than later, but I still have to keep reminding myself that patience is always a key when working with the schools.Tajy On an up note Mike and I started the arduous process of planting 2,500 trees along the international highway and at area schools. I talked a bit about this project in previous entries, so to avoid repeating myself the basic forest situation here in Alto Paraná is that there isn’t much left. Principally over the last 50 years legal and illegal logging have removed huge tracts of forest from the Bosque Atlántico del Alto Paraná (BAAPA), which is the unique ecological region where I live. Our idea was simply to plant some native tree species along the main highway to beautify the area, but also to show people the importance of planting trees especially in Alro Paraná. With that in mind last Friday Mike and I ventured out in the pouring rain to the next big town over from O’Leary to load up 1,300 tajy or lapacho as they’re known in Spanish, 500 inga guasu, and 200 guarana a tree that produces a fruit that has twice the caffeine content of coffee beans and is common flavor in sodas around here and energy drinks around the world. It was absolutely pouring rain when we did this, and only stopped momentarily during the time when we offloaded the plants back at the municipality in O’Leary. As luck would have it we were able to enlist the help of about 7 men to unload the truck at the municipality. Things were peachy keen when all of a sudden it started to absolutely pour again sending all of our helpers for cover and leaving rain drenched Mike and I alone to offload the remaining 350 or so trees. Paraguayans hate getting caught in the rain, so it was really frustrating when they stopped helping so close to the finish. Mike and I both looked like we had just gone swimming fully clothed, but It did provide for some good pictures. We were also lucky because the rain made the soil easier to dig in the next day when we actually started planting.

With the trees in O’Leary we were finally able to start the planting project. Using the manpower of 5 fellow Peace Corps volunteers and 4 members of the youth group we were able to plant 137 trees on Saturday, 41 on Monday, and 65 on Tuesday. I also have plans to plant 14 at my school with the kids as an activity for this upcoming Friday. We are still well short of the 2,500 we need to plant that also include another 500 trees we have yet to receive from another tree nursery, but you got to start somewhere. My hands are blistered and my back is sore, but it is all worth it for some of the smiles and thumbs up we receive from people who see us working. One woman in particular made my day yesterday when she came outside not once but twice to talk to us about the project we were doing and what a great idea it was. Her husband initially thought we were drug addicts who sometimes dig holes in front of their house to throw out garbage in, but after a bit of damage control we convinced him that we were merely planting trees and had no intention of burying our garbage there. After that everything was good and the family seemed happy at the prospect of new trees in front of their home. We still have a lot of work to do, and while the municipality can be extremely difficult to work with on a project like this, especially considering they were the ones who wanted the trees in the first place, it is nice to do something that goes towards the greater good. Planting these trees isn’t just something for the individual community of O’Leary to enjoy, but it is also to help Paraguay and the world at large replant some of it forest. Many would argue that 2,500 trees doesn’t mean squat when Brazil has deforested 230,000 sq mi since 1970 (thanks http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Deforestation_in_Brazil), but to mean it means a lot. It has not been easy to get to this point in the project, and time will tell how successful it is, but you can bet I am going to help plant everyone of those suckers one hole at a time.

Resident Recalls Experience in Peace Corps

Gazette Newspapers

HELPING OUT. Long Beach resident Nathaniel Miller, 28, recently returned about spending four years in Senegal, as part of the Peace Corps. After serving four years as a rural health Peace Corps volunteer in Senegal, Nathaniel Miller, 28, is back in his ...

In the quantum world we are never able to know both the motion and mass of a particle. This is seemingly analogous to two photographs of a fast moving vehicle that is shot with a slow and fast shutter speed. With a slow shutter speed we can see the motion as the blur of the object but the object is unclear. With a fast shutter speed we can see the object in detail but can not detect it's movement. We generally assume that the motion and object exist as a composite of the two photographs, we simply cannot detect each facet in a single photograph or measurement. In the case of the quantum particle, the undetected is also undefined. It does not exist until measured and is not a composite of two measurements. That's the spooky of which Einstein struggled. I think. Or more accurately, I believe, as the quantum world is not ours.

I have a new blog goal, blogoal if you will. I realized that in all these postings I don’t actually talk about Lesotho that much. I describe stories and my thoughts and feelings (so many feelings), but do not really … Continue reading →

Peace Corps 30-Second Summary

As I return from the Peace Corps, I am being asked the obvious but difficult question, "So how as it?" After observing many eyes glazing over and glances down at a smartphone as I detailed the best way to make queso fresco, I've prepared this 30-second summary. Thanks to the US Peace Corps and to my friends in Ecuador for a very rewarding two years. Gracias a Cuerpo de Paz y mis amigos ecuatorianos por unos dos años muy gratificantes. From: amgress Views: 0 0 ratings Time: 00:37 More in Travel & Events

The Race of Hope is a marathon up Mount Cameroon in Buea, Cameroon. Each year in February, a few hundred runners ascent 26.2 miles up and down the 10,000 foot volcano in search of challenge. I’ve run three Los Angeles Marathons, but typical American marathons don’t compare to the Race of Hope. During regular marathons, there are thousands of people supporting you. It doesn’t matter if it’s Mile 12 or 22, there will always be someone cheering you on perhaps by name if the respective marathon prints it on your running bib. In the Race of Hope, there are spectators for the first 6 miles or so, and then it’s just you and the mountain. American marathons have bands playing at major intersections, fifth-graders giving you Gatorade, and porta-potties serving as life-savers. I even had a Verizon wireless volunteer run next to me and dial my parents’ number while I said hello after a mile mark. Take all that away and it’s just crazy you running up a live volcano. So it was one of the best decisions that I made to come watch as a spectator because I like marathons, but I don’t like mountains. At 6:30AM, a fellow Peace Corps buddy and I headed to Upper Farms to scout out a great rock to sit on while watching the race and cheering on our crazy friends that were running the relay. The Race of Hope has a relay portion in which three people split the race: Person A will run to tag Person B who will run to tag Person C. Person C will run up to the peak and then on the way back down will pick up Person B before they both pick up Person C. If that doesn’t make sense, just know that all three runners meet back up to cross the finish line together! Originally, only men were allowed to run the relay, but thanks to Peace Corps Volunteer Zachary Drefus, this was the first year that women could run the relay as well! Upper Farms (the bottom base of the mountain) was a huge block party! Hundreds of people came to watch the marathon while meat got cooked, music was played, and drinks were had! Mind you, this was 8AM in the morning! Perhaps the most inspiring and innovative part of the race this year was that blind and visually-impaired runners from the Buea Rehabilitation Institute for the Blind (aka Bulu Centre for the Rehabilitation of the Blind) were accompanied by their family members or volunteers up and down the mountain for the 10k race. Even a 10k up this mountain was crazy as there are parts where you physically cannot run and are forced to walk because it’s so steep. Way to go! As the rain came down and we huddled underneath the prison awnings (Upper Farms is Buea's prison center and ironically, where most people wait to watch the Race of Hope), the crowd immediately roared! It was nobody else but "The Queen of the Mountain" Sarah Etongue. Seven-time winner of the marathon, everybody came out to see her as after the moment she passed, 3/4 of the crowd disappeared! She didn't win this year due to sickness, but her legend lives easily continues.We soon learned that they eventually stopped letting people summit because the conditions were too cold to run in. Yes, nothing like the sunny marathons I took part in while in Los Angeles! That night we celebrated our friends' achievement with an all-you-can-eat buffet of chicken, fish, vegetables, and surprise crepe desserts at Cuisine Royale. A great race and a great day!*For those interested in learning more about the Race of Hope, please see the documentary Volcanic Sprint.