Kevin Drum has a crazy chart looking at the favorability ratings of each state:

Coincidentally, Colorado (where I lived from age nine) is the fifth-most popular state, while Utah (where I was born and lived until age nine) is the fifth-least popular state. This is nuts, in my view. Sure, Utah has more than its fair share of crazies, but that's more than balanced out by its superior scenery and generally high-quality governance.

Karl Smith complains that the discourse around the morality of abortion lacks philosophical rigor:

Abortion seems to me to be a particularly poor example of a lack of moral resolution. From listening to the discourse from almost every corner its clear that bordering on no one takes the issue seriously and is primarily just posturing.I have heard no mention of whether or not fetuses or infants for that matter are p-zombies and if so would that matter. I have heard no serious treatment of the difference between the duty to prevent miscarriages and the duty to prevent abortion. I have heard no mention of whether or not all potential existing persons have moral relevance. I have heard no mention of wrongful life. These are trivially basic issues underpinning all this, yet the conversation does not even try to address them. Not fail. Not wave away. They simply don’t try.Now, it seems here Smith is talking about the mainstream conversation, not academic philosophy, but since I've been plowing through Derek Parfit's Reasons and Persons (on the recommendation of Tyler Cowen and Yglesias), I feel like hoisting a bit out of that book. It's from the section dealing with personal identity. Here "Reductionist" refers to a view saying that identity of a person is reducible to certain physical and psychological facts, which has the implication that personal identity is fluid. I may be just as much a different person compared to a nearby friend as compared to my younger self. "Non-Reductionist" means rejecting that view. (I'm probably bungling it a little, but that's pretty close.)

On the Non-Reductionist view, since my existence is all-or-nothing, there must have been a moment when I started to exist. As in my imagined Spectra, there must be a sharp borderline. It is implausible to claim that this borderline is birth; nor can any line be plausibly drawn during pregnancy. We may thus be led to the view that I started to exist at the moment of conception. We may claim that this is the moment when my life began. And, on the Non-Reductionist View, it is a deep truth that all the parts of my life are equally parts of my life. I was as much me even when my life had only just started. Killing me at this time is, straightforwardly, killing an innocent person. If this is what we believe, we shall plausibly claim that abortion is morally wrong.On the Reductionist view, we do not believe that every moment I either do or don't exist. We can now deny that a fertilized ovum is a person or a human being. This is like the plausible denial that an acorn is an oak-tree. Given the right conditions, an acorn slowly becomes an oak-tree. This transition takes time, and is a matter of degree. There is no sharp borderline. We should claim the same about person, and human beings. We can then plausibly take a different view about the morality of abortion. We can believe that there is nothing wrong in an early abortion, but that it would be seriously wrong to abort a child near the end of the pregnancy. Such a child, if unwanted, should be born and adopted. The cases in between we can treat as matters of degree. The fertilized ovum is not a first, but slowly becomes, a human being, and a person. In the same way, the destruction of this organism is not at first but slowly becomes seriously wrong.[Quick note here that late-term abortions are almost always for medical reasons.]

I think most liberals, seeing that argument, would probably accept it, but the underlying architecture is a bit more difficult to accept. One of Parfit's famous thought experiments involves a tele-transportation device, which destroys my body in one location and constructs an exact replica somewhere else. On Parfit's view of Reductionism, the question as to whether or not I survive this experience is empty, or devoid of meaningful information. He thinks also that the survival of my Replica is about as good as ordinary survival; or, stated differently, ordinary survival is about as bad as being destroyed in one place and rebuilt in another.

That's a tricky thing to believe, but he has about convinced me. (There are, as you might imagine, a lot more to these arguments.) It's a good book, though dense. I've had to stop a couple times and chow through a quick Terry Pratchett just for a breather.

Hello Dear Reader,

Soon after closing out my Peace Corps service, I landed my current job which has me based in Maseru, Lesotho. I began the feverish search for any and everything about life in Maseru and Lesotho in general. Although Lesotho was the last place I visited prior to being put on "travel lockdown" (the last 3 months of PC service, you're required to stay at your site until you leave), I could safely say that I knew and remembered little to nothing about the "Mountain Kingdom", other than Malealea Lodge offers awesome views of some of Lesotho's lowland mountains, and all on the back of 'surefooted" trail horses. I also remember driving down Kingsway Road, through the center of town with two of my fellow PCV friends and thinking..."So where is it? Where's the town?" Of course, coming from the BIG CITY of Rustenburg, South Africa, Maseru looked like a one-horse town! Nearly four years later, my understanding and appreciation for Maseru and Lesotho as a whole have grown tremendously.

I'm excited to say that, within the next week or two, my beautiful Ethiopian will soon be relocating to Lesotho. With that exciting event just around the corner, I've given thought to how I can best orient him and other people looking to relocate. Hmm...what were the things I wanted to know about living as an expat in this beautiful country?

In my tiny attempt to giving my Ethiopian and you a "heads up", here is the unofficial guide to all things 'Lesotho expat':

Entertainment (The most important information to know when going to any new city, right?)

Times Cafe: Located in the center of town, on Kingsway Rd, Times Cafe (formally Good Times Cafe) is THE consistent late-night 'upscale' bar/club in town. A nice selection of DJ's rotate every night and play everything from hiphop to house music. The food selection is fair...think average bar food. In my opinion, the best night to go is "Phuza Thursdays"! Thursdays, as we know, is the day before the official start of the weekend. Phuza Thursdays helps you get the party started. If you're into football, Good Times has large screens located throughout, broadcasting all of the big matches. You're sure to find a crowd when you get there!

Lithaleng aka "The Pit": Located in the industrial area of town of Moshoeshoe Rd (pronounced Mo-shh-way-shh-way...an important word to know, by the way), "The Pit" is the King's former horse stables turned favorite hangout spot of many of the people I know. Going to "The Pit", you'll find all of the young crowd who wants to chill, have a few drinks, and listen to good music. In my opinion, the Pit is best during summertime, as most of the seating space is outside. Come wintertime, go to Good Times or stay at home and try not to freeze your nose off!

Pioneer Mall aka "The new mall": I really don't remember what life was like in Maseru prior to opening of "The new mall". Prior to 'the new mall', we all went to Shoprite for our groceries, which is also where you ran into EVERYONE. It was the central meeting point. The 'new mall" has Ster-Kinekor movie theatre, Pick 'n Pay grocery store (nicer than the Shoprite...you can find blueberries, and fancy cooking oils), Ocean Basket (think Red Lobster), Spur (think Steak n' Ale), Steers (think McDonalds-esk), KFC (yep, Kentucky Fried Chicken), Debonaire (a take away pizza joint), LCS (where you can pay for your DSTV (i.e. cable tv). think a very small time Kmart), an electronics store, a dry cleaners (although the best dry cleaning service is Emmanuel's, next to the Shoprite), and Renaissance Cafe (slow service, but nice people and decent food). There are a few clothing stores and random little shops as well (you'll see when you get here).

Malealea Lodge: Mountain lodge. Pony trekking. Bushman paintings. Hiking. Short drive from Maseru.

Semonkong Lodge: Mountain lodge. Pony trekking. Longest single commercial abseil drop in Africa. BEAUTIFUL

Afriski: Thought you couldn't ski in Africa? Think again!

...to keep it short, if you like to do outdoors stuff, Lesotho is the place to be! You want fishing? We've got it! You want to support a national football team? Yep, we've got that too! You want to boat, hike, learn about Lesotho history, want a running club, need a world class gym with Spinning/Swimming/Private trainers/Squash courts/basketball courts/tennis courts/jazzercise, mountain biking club, mountain dirt bike competition known throughout Africa? We've got it all!

Restaurants

Pizza/Italian: Mimmo's, Debonairs Pizza, and Scooters Pizza. Mimmo's is a nice meet-up spot for lunch and after work drinks. The service is pretty slow, but the staff is very friendly. Plus, the balcony is a great spot for hanging out with friends (in the summer time). Debonairs has a stand-alone location and one at "The new mall". Scooters Pizza is located in the" Industrial Area", and the great thing about this little pizza joint is that they deliver for a nominal fee to locations in the Maseru central business district area. An added plus is that, if you have friends/family members who want Nando's, Scooters will deliver that too. The trick to getting Scooters to deliver Nando's (since they're owned by the same family) is that you first place your order at Nando's and you'll get an order number. While placing your order for Scooters, give them your Nando's number and you'll get your food in a jiffy! Last, but not least, if you're up for a nice drive out to a town called Taya-Tayaneng (TY for short), you can always go to the Blue Mountain Inn for (in my opinion) the best pizza in Lesotho. My friends give me a hard time about this, but all of the Peace Corps Volunteers in country will likely agree! Also, TY is the "crafts capital" of Lesotho. You can choose from a selection of handmade weavings or design your own with any one of the local weaver collectives.

Chinese Food: Yup, Lesotho has a sizable Chinese community, along with an equally impressive selection of Chinese food. Peace Restaurant is the expat favorite. Any day of the week, you can organize a private room with karaoke. Behind the Victoria Hotel, you'll find a hidden little restaurant with decent selections. Within the past year, another restaurant has opened up next to Lancer's Inn Hotel. The buffet provides a reasonable and quick lunchtime option. Ying Tao is located in the Lesotho Sun Hotel. This is my favorite Chinese spot because of the teppanyaki tables...think Benihana. The "angry duck" option and selection of Thai soups are really good. This is an "upscale" restaurant, so be prepared to bring your Maluti!

Seafood: Ocean Basket- they also have freshly made sushi.

Steak: If you want a takeaway plate of pap, spinach, and steak off the grill, there are gazillions of ladies selling takeaway plates out of the boot of her car on just about any corner. Don't turn your nose up at this option because you just might land on an hidden gem! For the more conservative palate, you can also go to the "new mall" for Spur. Watch out for Wednesday nights..."Mexican night". Sit back and watch the wait staff dance around the restaurants in their sombreros and ponchos. Interesting.

Grocery Stores: Pick n'Pay is in the "new mall" and has more fancy options than the Shoprite. By fancy, I mean a wide selection of fruits such as blueberries (my personal favorite), pineapples, gooseberries, and blackberries. Around Thanksgiving, the US Embassy usually sources turkey (a rare treat). Pick n'Pay, at least this year, had extra stock and you know your girl has one big frozen bird in her freezer, just waiting for the right night for a dinner party! Shoprite, while not as fancy is the tried and true grocery store. Unlike the Pick n'Pay, you're always able to find a nice selection of boneless skinless chicken. Pick n'Pay, on the other hand, has nice lean mince meat (aka ground beef).

Weekend Brunch: The one, the only Living Life Cafe, located in Ladybrand, South Africa. If you want to step into Martha Stewart's own personal backyard patio for a shabby chic brunch and run into just about every expat there is in a 30 km radius, this is the place you must go. Berry juice...YUM! Homemade pies, tarts and other tasty treats...Oh...Wow! Many items on the menu are grown right there on the Living Life Cafe property. The wait staff treats you like family, the kids can play on the little shabby chic playground, and you can even bring your little dog along to enjoy the good food and sun! Living Life is open every day except Sunday and Monday. The kitchen closes by 3pm. On top of all of the delicious food, you can also purchase homemade, shabby chic plush toys, clothes, and bath salts/jewelry/stuff. Trust me, crossing over the boarder into South Africa for Living Life is well worth dedicating passport pages. My body thanks me for Living Life. Your body will thank you too.

Coffee: Right on the corner of Pioneer and Kingsway, in the center of town, you'll find this cute little outdoor cafe. Great for light sandwiches, coffee, and mixed company. The cafe is run by a family of Eritreans. After 5pm, you'll see the nightly migration of Eritrean and Ethiopian men to Ouh La La Cafe for their regular coffee meet-ups. My Ethiopian participated in this nightly ritual during his trip to Lesotho last April.

Sundowners: This hotel is located at the top of a hill with a patio overlooking Maseru town and part of South Africa. For sun downers, this is THE one and only place to go! On Thursday nights, stick around for live jazz.

Fried Chicken: Yep, we have KFC. Eww. Hungry Lion. Eww. Not to brag or anything, but I am from the South and know how to whip up a Southern meal if you know what's good for you.

Burgers: Steers...meh. If you want a "taste of home", you can always drive to Bloemfontein, South Africa for the weekend (or just a day trip) for McDonald's. Personally, I'm a die hard Wendy's girl. McDonalds Happy Meals have, however, gotten me over the case of the "I want to go home" blues during my time in Peace Corps. Also, if you were born prior to 1985, you'll remember that, before McDonald's went on a "semi-health kick", they had (gasp now) fried apple pies. My favorite!!! Luckily, South Africa still appreciates the original fried apple pies, and McDonald's has happily obliged. Side note: My parents are friends with the CEO of McDonald's and his wife. I asked my mother to convey a special "Thank you" for having the sense not to take this off the menu everywhere. Yes, I did just say that. Yes, I am a Public Health Professional. Yes, I do eat according to the new food pyramid. Yes, I run regularly (although admittedly in a slump at the moment) and participate in races all over Southern Africa . Yes, I do love a McDonald's fried apple pie every once in a while. Sue me.

Other options: Take a day trip (or weekend trip) to Bloemfontein, South Africa and see how your South African neighbors live...with more activities and food options. The new Cinnabon is the wave of the future. Since I gain weight just thinking about a fresh, hot Cinnabon, I don't usually go this route, but hey, a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do.

Accommodation

Hotels/B&Bs: You have plenty o' options for hotels and B&Bs: Lancer's Inn Hotel (the expat favorite because it's right in the center of town within walking distance to everything), Maseru and Lesotho Sun Hotels (the Lesotho Sun is the more pricey option), Foothills B&B, and so many more. Take your pick!

Housing: It's a pain. Every expat and development organization wants to be in the central business district. As such, suitable housing is in short supply and high demand. With that combination, what do you get? High rent! The best way to find housing is by word of mouth, hiring a broker, and postings in the expat-run Frontier News, formally the Lesotho News (If you want to start looking for things prior to arriving, send an email to lesothonews@gmail.com). Neighborhoods to consider: Maseru West, Lower Thetsane, White City, Race Course Area, Friebel, Hillsview, Leseli Flats, and the Arrival Centre. The average cost of rent is about M6000/$750 per month. Good luck!

The more practical, adult stuff you need to know

Cable/Utilities: WASA to set up your water account. LEC to set up your electricity account. DSTV to set up your tv account. Econnet for your home telephone and WiFi internet at home. Vocacom for your cellphone and wireless internet modem (pay as you go or account). Once you get these things set up, you'll get a little key to refill your pay-as-you-go water meter, which you'll be able to take to the Engen Garage (petrol/gas station in town)/Shoperite/WASA HQ/Pick n'Pay for a refill. Same thing for the electricity, although your house will have a meter number that you can store in your cellphone and stop by the Engen Garage anytime you like to refill (thank heavens for the 24 hour garage!!!!).

Money: Withdraw large-ish amounts of cash from the ATM instead of having to get those darn bank charges. Most ATMS in-country will spit out cash in the local currency (Maluti). Maluti can be used in Ladybrand, South Africa, but that's it. Don't try to take it along on your weekend trip to Jozi. They'll look at you like you're crazy. The Standard Bank ATM in "the new mall" and at the border will allow you to withdraw South African Rands, which, ironically, can be used in Lesotho. FYI, having a local bank account to keep small amounts of money may be useful.

Safety: Despite what you may have heard about Lesotho's Mother Ship (aka South Africa), Lesotho is a jewel when it comes to the hospitality of the people, and safety. Of course, every city should be approached with your regular amount of caution, and Lesotho is, by no means and angel, but you can feel safe walking in groups at night without worry if your purse will get snatched. The majority of people are super friendly, warm and welcoming. If you have a question, stop someone and ask. In Lesotho, you get the best of both worlds: the peacefulness of a small town with lots of outdoor activities and access to the beautiful beast that is South Africa. (I'm proudly South African, if you didn't know!).

Dry Cleaning: Emmanuel's (across from Lancer's Inn Hotel) is THHHHHHHHE best place to get your clothes dry cleaned. I love walking into this shop, where staff working in the back come to the front to greet me. They are super fast, friendly, and when your clothes are done, you get an SMS. Beat that, dry cleaner on the bottom floor of "the new mall"!

Spa Services: Uhhh, yes, this is a practical, adult activity. Make reservations at the Lesotho Sun or Cranberry Cottage in Ladybrand. A facial, massage, pedi and mani go nicely with brunch at Living Life Cafe.

Veterinary Care: There is a Vet in Ladybrand that many expats use. They are SUPER affordable (way more affordable, and just as good as any Vet care you'll receive in the States). Also, there's an equally good (although not as fancy) Vet in Maseru across from Lehakoe Gym. For a while, I trekked across the border to Ladybrand with my big, stinky, snorting dog so that he could get his routine check-ups. One day, after giving said stinky, fat-fat dog a presumptive diagnosis of tick bite fever, I rushed him over to the local Vet. Badda bing! Badda boom! Big dog was cured. Moving forward, my big boy is Lesotho born (actually South Africa), bred, and bandaged locally!

Well Ethiopian man and newcomers alike, that's all I've got for you at the moment. If you have any requests for information, let me know! Welcome to Lesotho!

Until next time,

Dani

I took my family from my Peace Corps South Africa site to the Nkomazi region to see the "real" South Africa, the Samora Machel museum, and other delights.

Mike, as you might have noticed, is ancestrally Indian. That makes him much less exotic in a village than a white dude. Many of the rural shops in black villages are owned by Indians, but you almost never see a white person. Rainbow nation FTW!

Hamburgers, sausages and South African hot dogs (not quite Oscar Mayer) PVC Kyle in action with the braai To braai is an Afrikaan term meaning to grill or barbecue, and the activity is hugely popular everywhere in South Africa. One of the best meals I’ve had thus far in South Africa was a braai prepared [...]

Steve Randy Waldman brings us an equation, with a graph and some comments:

UNIT_LABOR_COSTS = PRICE_LEVEL × LABOR_SHARE_OF_OUTPUT An increase in unit labor costs can mean one of two things. It can reflect an increase in the price level — inflation — or it can reflect an increase in labor’s share of output. The Federal Reserve is properly in the business of restraining the price level. It has no business whatsoever tilting the scales in the division of income between labor and capital.

Yet throughout the Great Moderation, increases in unit labor costs were the standard alarm bell cited by Fed policy makers as an event that would call for more restrictive policy. And all through the Great Moderation, except for a brief surge during the tech boom, labor’s share of output was in secular decline. (More recently, the Great Recession has been accompanied by a stunning collapse in labor share. Record corporate profits!)

In case it's not clear, the graph is showing labor's share of total economic output. Steve goes on to make the point that if the Fed uses rising labor costs as a proxy for dangerous inflation, and tightens fast at the faintest whiff of such an increase, while doing nothing if the opposite happens, you will tend to see a secular decline in labor compared to capital.

Meanwhile, Karl Smith brings a similar graph, this time of the price markup over unit labor costs:

One more related fact: Apple has accumulated a staggering hoard of $100 billion, and it's increasingly clear the firm's management isn't going to give it back in the from of dividends or stock buy-backs. Instead they look like they'll invest it in other things, which means either accumulating even more money or squandering it on some boondoggle.

This discussion gets rapidly technical, but on a basic level, here's the picture I'm forming in my head. Roughly speaking, capital has thoroughly beaten labor in the last 30 years, and has used the increased leverage to direct large and increasing profits to owners and managers. Because the small cadre of very rich couldn't possibly spend all this money, it resulted in a global savings glut, which in turn sparked huge demand for AAA-rated investments and thus a large part of the 2008 meltdown. Since then, the Lesser Depression walloped labor again, even harder, and now that the economy seems to be picking up, pointless accumulation seems to be accelerating again.

The decreasing leverage of labor is certainly partially caused by globalization, but as Steve notes in his comments:

I don’t know the magnitudes. I don’t think anyone does, and attempts to estimate would be very contestable. Globalization, communications, and cheap transport have certainly created “real” headwinds for labor bargaining power. Labor is not as scarce a factor as it once was. But then, for much of the decade preceding 2008, we had a “global savings glut”. In the US, capital was not at all a scarce factor, Wall Street was cheating to invent means of deploying it. That should would have militated towards to an increase in labor share, but we certainly didn’t see that.The main point in favor of trying to increase labor share, and thus restrain corporate profits, would be to prevent this pointless accumulation. Worldwide, vast hoards of money are inherently unstable, and that money would be less dangerous placed in as many hands as possible.

Yglesias pulls one of my old tricks: outsourcing a post to the old man!

I swore I was going to hang up. What I had done so far was foolish, but romantic. This was merely stupid. I barely recognized the voice that gave them my credit card number for three seats $230 each. I expected my sons to have me committed in order to save what was left of their inheritance.Good stuff. It even kind of sounds like my dad. Rafael Yglesias, I should note, is actually a very successful novelist in his own right.

1. Science has spoken: the rich really are more morally depraved.

2. Chunks of virus DNA has been found in critical human genes.

3. Physics have built a "single atom transistor." Not quite as miraculous as that headline sounds, but still cool.

4. Christina Romer's favorite books.

5. Obama's idiotic, and inexplicable, hard turn against medical marijuana. WTF, man?

http://video.nytimes.com/video/2012/02/20/science/100000001362994/michel-sidibe.html

I just watched this and loved it. MICHEL SIDIBÉ'S drive and commitment to his career and the people he works for just shines through in this piece. He is the executive director of the United Nations’ AIDS prevention agency.

The way he talks just reminds of how I feel about teaching my 84 7th graders. Knowing that I might be able to save just one of them from contracting HIV is why I go to class every day. Every day brings its own challenges and you can't give up on these kids, they have it in them to realize they have the power to beat this disease with out me there telling them that. Fight.

Game ended in 1-1 tie Some of the PCVs enjoying the game A recent soccer game was a good excuse for all the PC Volunteers in my province to get together for a weekend. About 18 of us converged on the town of Polokwane where there is a huge, beautiful stadium for such an event [...]

Here's Daniel Larison making a fairly obvious riposte against Rick Santorum's vicious swaggering:

Santorum has defended his statement in terms of affirming a Biblical understanding of man’s role as a steward of creation, but if we took this later remark at face value we would have to say that Santorum doesn’t understand the concept of stewardship very well. After all, the purpose of Christian stewardship isn’t simply to serve human needs (much less desires), but to preside over the natural world as God’s viceregents and to rule it in a manner pleasing to God, all of which is directed towards giving God glory and thanksgiving for the blessings He has bestowed upon us. We are to see creation as something entrusted to us by God, and as something that we are responsible for preserving and keeping as part of our obedience to Him. That necessarily involves limiting and restraining our desires so as not to exhaust or waste what has been entrusted to us. Viewed that way, we are here to care for the earth and for one another, and in so doing serve the Creator Who made both.This seems uncontroversial from a Christian perspective.

So far I'm nearly done with Exodus, and it is by turns tedious and astonishingly beautiful. (Well performed by Alexander Scourby, I should add.) The verse that has thus far stuck in my mind the most is from Genesis 41: 47. It's when Joseph is in Egypt and running the Pharaoh's business. Pharaoh has a dream which Joseph interprets as seven years of good harvests followed by seven years of famine. Here's how the KJV describes the good years:

And in the seven plenteous years the earth brought forth by handfuls.Isn't that something? Compare that to the New Living Translation:

As predicted, for seven years the land produced bumper crops.It's as written by an accountant. Blah.

Short story: Awesome race. Fast, uncrowded course with one monster hill and beautiful views. Nice medal and a shiny PR that tells me I'm RIGHT on track with my marathon training!

Note: my official result is 2:16:00, because I started near the back of the pack after it took us longer to get across the US border than expected. Facebook friends have given me the consensus that I can claim my Garmin's time.

My friend Dana picked me up in downtown Seattle at mid-day on Saturday so we could drive up to Birch Bay, Washington (just a few minutes south of the US-Canada border, RIGHT on the coast) for the Birch Bay Half Marathon. She's training for Boston and my schedule for London had me doing a mid-training half marathon to gauge how things are going. Birch Bay was basically the only non-trail race within driving distance that fell at the right time of the year, but I was also excited because I've found that I really like smaller races with beautiful scenery (see also: Columbia Gorge). We got there just as the "expo" was starting - better described as packet pick-up where we got our t-shirts, bibs, and a sheet of information with a map of the marathon course (I'd argue that a map of the half marathon course would actually have been more useful for those of use running the half marathon - 2/3rds of the entrants).

A work colleague of mine had told me that the US side of the border was a bit...bleak...compared to the joys that awaited in the small town of White Rock, Canada, just on the other side, so I found a B&B that had room in White Rock. It turned out to be a wonderful choice! We stayed at the White Rose B&B, which was pretty much a small apartment in the basement of someone's home. There was a king bed in the main room and a small room with two twins - which I took, in case I needed to snuffle through the night (I've just barely gotten over a bad cold). The attention to detail was amazing, our hosts were so generous to make sure we had bagels and fruit for our pre-marathon breakfast, and the whole place was impeccably clean. I think I'm going to book it again for the Birch Bay 30K in March! White Rock itself was also adorable and, similarly, I'm excited to do more exploring. Good tip, work colleague! The only downside was that I couldn't quite persuade Dana how important it was to forsake Starbucks for Tim Horton's and TIMBITS for our post-race hot beverages.

White Rock

My race plan was pretty straightforward: my goal pace was 10:17, which is the pace I'd need for a dream 4:30 marathon (long ago decided that I'd train the paces for a 4:30 marathon, but really aim for a 4:45, because I'd rather enjoy the experience). I planned to go out and do the first two miles in ~10:30 pace, then pick it up to 10:17 for miles 3-11, then try to pick it up for the last two miles. Was I successful? Only somewhat: I NAILED my average pace, but wasn't super awesome about consistency and fell off the pace a bit at the end.

But, I'm very pleased. The 2:15 mark was one that I really, really, really, really wanted to hit. It's another two and a half minutes off my half marathon PB, as well, which is very nice. It's validation of a sort: I wanted to get 2:15 a year ago at the Princess Half, but really fell apart in the last half, and especially the last quarter, of the race. It feels awesome to know that in the year since my first half marathon, I've run two more and run each one stronger. I also felt good about how I pushed up that hill - it was my slowest mile, but it was a beast and I never stopped to walk. Overall, I do think I could have gone a bit faster, but the important thing for me to remember was and is that this race was a training run - it wasn't the "A" goal. That's London. I needed to run smartly, because I have to go back to training today, and I think I did that.

But, oh the course! It was stunning! It was run right along Birch Bay (starting and ending at the State Park) and Drayton Harbor. My Indiana heart still thinks that running near water is the ultimate luxury of life. The roads were quiet and, even though it was overcast, there was no rain (w00t!). The aid stops were a little far between and I especially didn't like that the 10 mile stop was around the corner (I presume that this was on the marathon's route) and so there wasn't actually any water for the half marathoners. I took a Gu in anticipation and ended up having to run the last 5k with Gu mouth and worrying that I might barf because I didn't have any water to wash it down. I think for the 30k, I'll take my Camelbak. I also loved that this race seemed to have JUST the right number of runners. I never felt alone, but we were all pretty well strung out. Also, the medal is nice and my skirt did its job well (I think is almost certainly an official clothing choice for the marathon).

Afterwards, we drove BACK to Canada, had showers (the B&B folks were really sweet and let us come back late to shower), found a fabulous organic cafe (the Sunflower Cafe) for lunch - half a tuna sandwich and curry chicken soup for me - OMNOMNOMNOM, then started the drive back to Seattle. We stopped at the Lululemon outlet mall along the way and got Dana back just in time for the next ferry to Bremerton.

What a perfect weekend for a great race! I can't wait for my next trip up to run in Birch Bay! If I weren't already registered for the 30K race, I definitely would have been doing that today!

BTW: look how pretty the post boxes are in Canada!

- We got the VAST grant approved by PC!!! Camp GLOW (Girls Leading Our World) is a go!! Can’t wait for this in early July but lots of planning and preparing in the meantime. -The burglar bars are finished on the room that I will be moving into and I am scheduled to move on [...]

When I first arrived here, everything was completely insane. People said the craziest stuff, monkeys raided the trash, cars gave you no room, darkness was the most terrifying thing ever, and everybody asked me for money all the time. None of these things phase me at all anymore. They're part of my day, as normal as a morning cup of coffee would be back in the States.

the fact that acceptable responses to 'how are you' is 'ke tsogile' [i've awoken] and 'ke lokile' [i was okay]. i still haven't received a satisfactory response as to why the latter is in the past tense, and no one else seems to find it as funny as i do.

the fact that my tin roof makes even the slightest drizzle sound like a downpour and every downpour like the apocalypse.

dust chicken from roadside stands, all slathered in peri peri [hot pepper] marinade.

how everyone in my village knows my name, and expect me to remember theirs after one meeting six months ago. after a while the awkwardness became funny.

the view on the taxi ride from my village to tzaneen, filled as it is with big, green farms on rolling hills.

sipping jasmine green tea in the courtyard while my brothers try their best to upset the mug and/or my book.

the fact that motlare, my 2 y/o brother, will repeat whatever i say the best he can. so far we have 'careful', 'okay', and 'bah ram ewe' down pat. we're still working on my name.

the fact that saleem, the proprietor of the local indian shop, still has no idea what to do with me and gives a look of genuine surprise every time i walk in.

the donkey carts [koloi ya tonki], which are just sawed-off backs of pick-up trucks hitched to two miserable looking beasts of burden that fly through the village with no concern for life or limb.

the local school bus, or twenty kids piled into the back of a pickup truck.

the zcc prayer meetings, which are conducted in song, and which carry through the evening in such an wonderful way.

the other small shop situated right next to the indian shop and which is only open when the indian shop closes (so, between 12 and 2). Go go gadget capitalism!

the fact that said shop just stared selling deep-fried hake for R4 (~50 cents).

the fact that it is mango season and there are three trees just outside my room. so good.

A very creamy liqueur We have to eat the chocolates quickly or they will melt in the heat! The marula tree grows throughout the province where I live. The fruit from the marula tree is apparently much loved by giraffes, warthogs and even elephants, but it is a myth that such animals get drunk from [...]

These chickens know who normally feeds them! Stalking my host mom! My hair is getting long! Grade 6 making Valentine’s I go to class and this is what I find. another teacher took the learners for a test or something. This is why I keep my burglar/screen door shut. Otherwise these critters walk in my [...]

In America, funerals are generally a sad event that is a mix of saying farewell, crying, celebrating their life, and remembering the deceased. In South Africa, they are a major social event dedicated completely to celebrating the deceased’s life. No crying whatsoever! Oddly enough, I went to my FIRST SA funeral this Saturday. It is [...]

Having grown up in precipitation-rich Iowa, I am still intrigued when it rains here in the Kalahari Basin. Rain here behaves quite different than rain in Iowa. Yes, it still falls from the sky and lands on the earth, but rain here is a strange phenomenon regardless. First of all, being the Kalahari Basin, my [...]

Well Hello Blogity blog blog.

Waste of a year or lesson learned? Well, I am an optimist (and would never admit PC being a waste) so I guess I will vote for the latter. Lesson learned. But what lesson did I learn? Life isn’t fair? Some people suck? Shit happens? I hope that wasn’t the point.

So what had happened waaaas… but I think this tale will be like a movie ‘based’ on a true story, no I won’t have someone much more attractive play me and make it more dramatic with a spin to make me look good… but the PC version will only tell you what well, is PC.

It is no secret the organization I was assigned to as my primary project was not rainbows and butterflies. It was a very low functioning org (most PCV orgs are) with little work ethic and little interest in improving. So, why would they apply for a PCV? We are supposed to make the org function better and train people, in turn, making people have to actually do their jobs. Ah, there is the rub, the part where they are supposed to work. Well, my ‘counterparts’ were not shy at telling me they did not want to work. Oh great, this will be fun. We all come to Peace Corps with expectations, PC warned us to ‘not have expectations’ but I think that is stupid. We have to have expectations, of ourselves, of others, of work, living situations, we are human- we just do. After getting in country I began to understand why they want us to have no expectations, because we would have to lower them. Well, I did, and I did it with a smile and set realistic goals when I arrived at my site at the end of March, 2011.

So, what happened? Why am I no longer working with the org? Why did I have to leave the community, even though I had established work with the schools and clinic?

Well, I was threatening.

Around October/November the Risk Management of South Africa along with Dept of health, and Dept of social development began an investigation looking into allegations of fraud and embezzlement. Around this time was a noticeable change in attitude with the managers, now not only did they not want to work but they were, well, mean. The project manager suspended a caregiver who she thought might have called the department, management was purposefully hiding things from me and the best part this all coincided with a campaign I just started. Sweet.

I had been in regular contact with my APCD (pretty much my PC supervisor) for months, she knew about the problems with the org and the general attitude of my counterparts. After every meeting or discussion I had with her it usually ended with me saying “but it’s ok, ill be fine.” It would be far too much to go into what exactly happened at the org and what people said, but my APCD and I decided it would be best if I started working at the clinic. I established a relationship with them, and it was agreed I would work there a couple days a week doing health education and plan campaigns (yay, what I actually want to do!). After pulling teeth at the org I had three small projects to do there, it would take maybe 2-3 days a week there to complete them in a ‘sustainable’ manor.

I tried to go over my schedule with the management, and well, they flipped their shit. All of a sudden I was on the defense and tried my best to explain why I do not need to spend every day there. First of all, I am a community volunteer, so, I work for the community. I also had almost nothing to do at the org, and after a year of trying to find things to do with little results it was obvious I needed to branch out more.

Cut to a couple days later and Kori comes to my site. She met with the management, and I was glad she came. I was optimistic about the meeting and thought we would get some things clear and maybe set a schedule and work plan. I of course I felt like I could do this with the org by myself, but it was past that point. I knew my org wasn’t thrilled with my plans of working so closely with the clinic, but I really didn’t think anything was seriously wrong. After sitting outside of the office where Kori was meeting with the managers for an hour a half I began to worry. What were they talking about? What possible could they have to talk about?

Well, they were explaining to Kori how I am horrible and they want me to leave.

Pretty much the deal is, they think I was involved in reporting them to the department, and now they were getting in trouble and wanted me to leave. It was of course not said that plainly, they first wanted to paint a horrible picture of me. They told Kori some pretty horrible lies about me, which I later had to sit through accusations and try and defend myself. Luckily for me, Kori knows me and some of the accusations were so ridiculous it was easy to see they were lying. The two best parts were 1) the reason they think I was involved in reporting them is because a letter was written to the department in English, so it was obviously me (REALLY?) and 2) they would say these things to me, and asked Kori to not tell me certain things they said (mainly the part about me turning them in) but after it was clear I was not going back to the org she spilled the beans.

This led to me fearing my PC future and questioning, well, everything. The first thoughts that went through my head were leaving the clinic, girls club, and host family. Then I immediately thought about projects I had planned with a volunteer near me- then of course the horrible worry about what PC staff will now think of me.

Just like any situation I have been reflecting on what was said, and everything I have done the last year. Was I too pushy with them? Am I mean? Intimidating? Culturally insensitive? What if I had done something different? Did I fail?

Well, I had to answer all of those questions to head PC staff, which was tons of fun. It is no secret I sometimes care a little toooooo much about what others (especially authority) think of me, but how do I prove I am not a bad person? Shouldn’t they have to prove the accusation? Innocent until proven guilty? Well, I recognize the PC staff has a job to do, and they need to make sure I am not a horrible person and even though at one point I felt as though I was not being supported by PC- I am still here- so I guess overall it is understood that the org had a claim that was false which led to many other false claims.

Oh yea, and NO I did NOT write the letter or ever talk to department.

So I headed to Pretoria, then I went off to facilitate some lessons to SA25 PST (the new group who is training now), and two weeks later it is today and I am back at site. I should be packing right now, but that does not at all sound appealing. The GREAT news is, I ALREADY have a new site!!! This must be one of the fastest turn overs for PCSA, two PCVs just left Pretoria after two months of living at the backpackers because they needed a site change! I am very lucky that this crappy situation happened when it did and VERY thankful to a couple PCVs who pretty much pushed for me to get this site.

I am taking over a site outside of Phalaborwa in Limpopo, this area is described as “the surface of the sun” by a fellow PCV who lives near there, but I don’t care. I am STOKED! It is currently the site of a PCV who is finishing up her two years there, and although she is not done she thought I would be a great fit so she did me a favour and talked to Peace Corps. There are still a lot of logistics to work out, but I think I will be moving later this week and we will be there together for a little while (couple weeks? Days? I don’t know) then she will move. I am sad to leave certain things, not only the things I listed previously but also the three PCVs near me and our Saturday castle dates and the friend, Leah, who is a missionary who works around here. But bottom line, this site is crap and I need to get out. I don’t know too much about my new site but from what I have heard it sounds wonderful, as in, there is a functioning board of directors.

I am also very grateful of all of my friends and family, I have a wonderful support network that I am able to cry/yell/laugh with them. It is also really amazing how much I rely on my fellow PCVs, although we have not been together that long I have found such amazing people and would have probably freaked out (even more) if I didn’t have friends telling me I am not a horrible person and I will get another site. We have a lot of time in our heads here in Peace Corps and it is a great to learn and grow, but sometimes we can be our own worst enemies. I am still reflecting on what happened and trying to figure out why and making sure I make the best of it.

I haven’t told anyone is the community, but I am sure the past two weeks the project manager has said something, and I am sure I was not talked about it the best light. Tomorrow I will go into the org and clinic, pack up my stuff and say my goodbyes. Really not sure what I am going to say, should I give my side of the story to the caregivers I work with or just let it go? Should I tell management exactly what I think of them or just bite my tongue? And I am REALLY not looking forward to talking to my host family, that won’t be fun. And I can’t help but think how unfair it is I get to leave and go to a new site, but the caregivers at the org have to stay and all the of the plans for the kids for the next year are just, not going to happen.

So again, I wonder what this past year really was all about. Oh the emotions.

I love this song. Anyways back to the lesson plan and handout make-up to my STIs and STDs and all things disease done in 30 minutes on Monday. I hate how short the classes are. Then test on Tuesday, another day lost of assessment and book keeping.

At least I get Friday off to go to yet another workshop, this one for Peace Corps. It will be with our school principals and meet up for on a discussion on....hmm have not received an agenda yet, so I say this with assumptions, that it's probably on "using your volunteer efficiently and correctly." And it will be yet another class lost, I'm soooooo behind on my syllabus!!

Occasionally I run across something here in South Africa that is so clever that I think, “Why haven’t I seen this in America?” This country is definitely a mix of old and new. One such example is pictured above. It is a call button for a waiter/waitress. I saw this at a small cafe yesterday [...]

Apparently I stink at updating my blog; many apologies. Since my last post, I have mostly been going on longer and longer runs. It's taken a lot out of me & I've been dealing with a bad cold all week. I'm hoping that this week, which was a lot lighter in the running department will help boost my immune system. I actually missed a run yesterday, but after I went home a couple of hours early from work, it seemed more sensible to stay in bed, rather than venture out into the cold & run.

Thankfully, however, the cold has stayed in my head and I can run through it with no issues, because tomorrow is my first (of two...or maybe three) pre-marathon races. It's my third half marathon, at Birch Bay, which is a few miles from the Canadian Border, right on the water. I'm very excited, but, as ever, nervous. I can't settle on a pacing plan in my head, which makes me nervous. Should I push and try to do 13.1 miles at (dream, fantasyland) marathon pace (10:16)? Should I go out slower than goal pace (~10:30), then pick it up after a few miles to marathon pace? Should I try to be a bit more conservative and treat this like a long run (closer to 11:00 pace)? I can obviously do much longer distances at the slow pace and I've done 8 miles at 9:33 pace, but the idea of 13.1 miles at 10:16 pace still makes me nervous. I should really try and be more confident in my ability to rock this! I'd love some words of wisdom!

What I can't quite get over is that it's been a year, this weekend, since my first half marathon and I can't believe how far I've come! Plus, it's making me EVER MORE excited for next year's Disney Princess Half Marathon.

Wish me luck! Apparently, Sunday marks 9 weeks to go to the marathon. As Marathon Talk said this week: single digits to go means its squeaky bum time! It ALSO means I need to step up my fundraising. As ever, I'd appreciate any and all donations to Cancer Research - just click the Just Giving box in the top right sidebar.

I've got a ramble on feminism & running to come, but I'll save that for a posting that's more thoughtful and less "nervous thought dump" than this one.

And so, as all things must, my Peace Corps service has come to an end. I have been avoiding writing this post, because I knew that until I did, I could continue to ignore my feelings and refuse to process my emotions. As I sit here, with less than a week left in my village, I undergo a barrage of different emotions. And how can I process them? How does one give their life to something, somewhere, someone, for two years- and have any idea of how to deal with leaving? How can I think of saying goodbye to my family- as Sadie and mXolise, so, so dirty, play on my floor, testing the limits of how far they can go until I yell at them? How do I ever forget the image of children going through my garbage for toys, and then thanking me for letting them have it? How can I hold on to the hope that I will one day come back here and visit, and that they will remember me, and that everything will be the same that it was when I left? How can I let that be enough? I give away all of the gadgets that I brought and never used, all of my clothes, I pack my bags, and I take all of my pictures and letters from the last two years off of the walls- yet it still does not seem real at all. When will it become real? When I depart on the bus, waving goodbye to my family? When I meet up with other PCVs at home? When I get a job, will I finally understand that this is over, and that I’m not coming back?

All that I am left with here are my hopes, my dreams, my desires for this place and these people. All that I am left with are the relationships that I have fostered, the love- actual love- that I hold for many people here. How do I keep that? And how do I let it go? All that I am left with is a proficiency in the least spoken of the national languages, a knowledge of the severe health needs of a population, and the reality of a desperation for information, access, and a way out. All that I am left with are two years of memories- gaggles of kids waiting for me to get home from work, watching two babies grow from birth, all of my host brothers’ girlfriends, long runs around the village greeting everyone and allowing anyone to join me (and eventually seeing a change as people voluntarily begin to exercise on their own), words and phrases such as ‘Eish’ ‘Haibo!’ ;Nkosi Yami’ ‘Sorry shame’ and ‘Futsek’, counseling my girls on issues ranging from strict parents to cheating boyfriends to pregnancy and rape, long, hot afternoons sitting with mama as we try to communicate and laugh at the antics of the children, yoga, Akwande, figuring out how to live on my own with very little resources, the rich laughter of the Gogos as they watch themselves do the next Aerobics move, hearing mXolise say ‘I love you Sbonigle’, as he watches me cry and can’t figure out why because he is usually the one in tears, trying to garden, washing clothes with my hands, peeing in buckets, innocent and loving hugs from children, failing, succeeding, tears of frustration, and tears of joy.

It is with a heavy heart that I say goodbye, and with much pain and sorrow that I leave this place that I have called home for so long. I am left with the beautiful experience of the past two years, the empowering idea that I did have a real and tangible impact here, and the knowledge that this place has changed me, challenged me, hurt me, loved me, forced me to grow, and in turn, impacted me in so many ways that I could have never imagined. So I say goodbye, to the sunsets, to pap, to speaking isiNdebele, to dirty, dirty, dirty children, to loving and welcoming community members, to my girls, to my friends, to extreme heat and severe cold, to my family, and to everything that I have known for two years.

In a wonderful twist of fate, as I was cleaning out my room I came across a letter that I wrote my first week here, but for some reason never sent. It detailed my fellow volunteers, my fears, my anticipations, my anxieties, and my desires. One particular section told of my nervousness to go to my homestay family: how would we communicate, will they like me, how will I adjust to this new lifestyle, do they even really want me there? I never could have guessed what an incredible blessing that family has been to me during my time here. It was encouraging to read that letter and fully recognize how I have grown and what I have accomplished since that day. I left home two years ago, unsure of myself, of what I wanted, of what I was capable of, and if I could even successfully complete my Peace Corps service. I know now all of these things. I could not have asked for a better or more fulfilling experience, and I have truly loved the entire process- from the discomfort and frustration of the beginning months, to the successful projects and initiatives of the second year, to the remaining few months in which I truly realized the importance of the work that I have done and the relationships that I have cultivated here. So I say goodbye, but I also say cheers to two of the most exciting, challenging, fun, frustrating, adventurous, scary, and meaningful years of my life. I will not soon forget my experience, my friends, my work, or the calm and quiet existence of my rural community.

In the words of Kerouac, ‘What is the feeling when you’re driving away from people, and they recede on the plain till you see their specks dispersing? It is the too huge world vaulting us, and its goodbye. But we lean forward to the next crazy venture beneath the skies.

Today I managed to sleep into just before 9 AM, what an accomplishment! Given I usually wake up at 5:15 AM on the dot to the sound of a heard of elephants rolling through my door and burglar bars to the sounds of Rihanna or South African Christian gospel. "We found love in hopeless plaaaace!!!!" comes bellowing in from the other side of my wall on a very-off falsetto pitch with several cracks of his Muppet-Gonzo-like-voice. It's Gonzo, it's a bird, it's a plane, oooh oooh wait, it's my host brother at it again doing his morning crack ass of dawn ritual dance-off and sing-off in his room at 5 AM. I usually groan and mumble: "Are you F#$%^ing kidding me? I have 1 more hour till my alarm goes off."

But, today NADA. AWESOME! So I slept into to the pitter patter of the falling rain on my tin roof. I cannot tell you how relaxing that is. AND it's cool out so I was actually able to snuggle under my sheets and putting off getting up.

So I get up and unlock myself from my fortress (3 doors to get out of my house: normal door, burglar barred door, sliding door)and stumble out to the latrine and breathe in the freshly rained upon African air....Aaaaah. Then I walk over to my outdoor tap and fill my plastic bucket with water my morning bath.

I get back into my room and put in my modem and go to Facebook instantly - anything crazzzy going on in people's lives back home, ehhh not really. CHANGE....right to the NY Times. In the background my electric kettle warms up my morning coffee water and I begin to scan through the headlines, nothing too moving. Hmmmm..."In Maryland, House Passes Bill to Let Gays Wed," the only article I read. Then my eye reaches The Fashion & Style section....

Guilty pleasure, yes! Omigoodness, so I'm here sitting in my gross jeans, Peace Corps - South Africa shirt that I've been wearing to bed for the last week, hair a mess and with my nerd glasses on, surrounded on the outside by what is the rural village life of the Northern Cape and I have the gumption to go look at this. Bucket baths, funerals, kids running around with no shoes on, women carrying goods down the road balanced on their head, unpaved street, black outs, no water, hunger, living on 1 meal a day - the different life.

Look at High fashion, the fashion of New York's fashion week,while in the African Bush is like looking at that really good gourmet French patisserie rich chocolate cake and not even being able to eat it. It's almost like an oxymoron, it's something unheard of in these parts and something completely out of my current budget.

However, my eyes and interest can't help but be pulled into the glitz and glam of what is part of the central aspect of what makes New York City, The City. Fashion.

So I've got to look at Bill Cunninham. OOOOooh Hmmmm, fall coats, and fur coats with no sleeves dressed down. Lovely: http://video.nytimes.com/video/2012/02/17/fashion/100000001368347/bill-cunningham--coatings.html

Then pulled into the happening of the Jason Wu show marking multi-culturism and the other shows that highlighted the upcoming season themes of the military look [now - I've been reading Vogue since I was 12 and the military look is something that comes in and out every several years for fall fashion, this is nothing new, but at the same time all the pictures I see all are great looks].

Names and things like: Joseph Altuzarra, Rag and Bone, Michael Kors with his outer wear knit alpaca fringe coat, Brad Goreski commenting on Tory Birch, and seeing the faces lined up at the front from of shows at New York's Fashion week....art and beauty. I just love it.

I flip through the AmfAR (The Foundation for AIDS Research) gala pictures and Sarah JessicaParker dressed in, what else, Oscar de la Renta. This is the side of New York I only saw from the outside but I can't help but be drawn in.

But that's what I do my Saturday morning, flip back to the the life in the States that I do not see here, nor was I ever a part.

I open up a few more tabs and spend about 15 minutes looking for information on the prevalence of STDs in South Africa curious to find things to have my 7th graders need to know. We're still on Sexuality and Disease in my Life Orientation class and it's been a really interesting time. I wish I had a good 3 months to work on this with them, instead the Department of Education allots you 3 weeks to teach them about these 2 topics. I'm already going onto 4 weeks pushing into our next theme which is Personal Choice and

Self Image, but I've been going over that with the kids as I go through Sex Ed. We spent this last week going over Decision-Making and terms like "safe" and "risky" and "alternatives" and then I've prepared a midterm exam for them next week, there is NEVER enough time!

But anyways, I need to get back to the lesson plan research and then get my lazy bum into town to do my grocery shopping. Here's a great message from one of my old Yoga teachers in NYC:

"Research has shown that a simple act of kindness directed toward another improves the functioning of the immune system and stimulates the production of serotonin in both the recipient of the kindness and the person extending the kindness. Even more amazing is that persons observing the act of kindness have similar beneficial results. Imagine this! Kindness extended, received, or observed beneficially impacts the physical health and feelings of everyone involved!"

Be good people and enjoy the weekend, and go out there and extend some kindness - know I will :) I'm out

.

First grade teacher Social Sciences teacher, grades 4-7 First grade teacher, literacy Primary school principal Many of the female teachers wear hats to school and continue to wear them all day long. Some hats are fancier than others. I don’t really know if they wear hats because they look nice wearing them or because they [...]

Dear Angela, You did it! You stepped out into the unknown to give of yourself half-way around the world and truly made an impact on those you served. By learning a new language and culture as the first Peace Corps volunteer in the village of Isandlwana, you helped improve the lives and future of the [...]

What my friends think I do... [not yet! someone please find me an elephant ASAP!]What my Mom thinks I do... [this is me with the kids every day all day - sometimes it's def too much]What the US government thinks I do... [eeeh...no comment]What locals think I do... [soooo not true but, hey I'd love to work for the C.I.A.]What I think I do.... [this is me when I go for a run]What I really do.... [this is me EVERY day, sometimes 2x a day]

Haha I just saw this posted on Facebook by one of my friends here in South Africa, and it cracked me up since any volunteer here could tell about the close and personal relationship they have with their bucket bath.

My bucket looks more or less like the one this girl is squished into but it's a little big more oval and darker green. I can even do a Yogi-Headstand in my bucket bath!

How I figured out how to do that while I was in there was that one day when I leaned over the bucket on my knees and washing my hair, I leaned over into the bucket to rinse out my hair. In the process of doing that I noticed a familiar hand placement, that of a yogi-headstand. So I thought to myself, "hmmmm....why not?" and I leaned over a little bit more and pushed up my bare bottom (yes, I was actually naked - I mean that is how you get cleaned when you take a bath) and till it reached just perpendicularly above my head and then...UP went one leg and then the other. Yup, yogi-headstand...IN my bath.

The End of bath time stories :) haha

Yogi headstand!

Here's one for the weekend and so hot in SA, one of my fav's: Mi Casa

Watch for the little kids dancing in the end of the video, that's like every little kid in my neighborhood to comes over to dance and play with me :)

Last week, two of my friends from Polokwane came to visit me in the village.  They had both been interested in the work I do, so they took the time to come out and see for themselves.  I had a great time getting to know each of them better and showing them around the village. [...]

So cute! All the little Grade R's (aka Kindergardeners) at my school posing with the little puppy of one of the cooking staff at our school. The cooking staff's names is Ntsanyana which is Setswana for "puppy."After all the little ones looked at the picture and ran away, one runs back yelling "Mma Susana!" And comes up to me and gives me a big HUG like he had forgotten to give it. Haha...these kids just love me so much and I have to say it's definitely what gets me through each day :)

Truly hard to capture in pictures what the ant “situation” is here. Basically, almost any time I am standing or walking outside, I am stepping on or over one or more ants. They are just about everywhere. The ants are tiny, and don’t seem to bite. That is fortunate because I have looked down numerous [...]

I’ve been encouraged by a good friend to get back into blogging. Apparently my life has the potential to be mildly interesting when put into writing, although I have my doubts. I’ve been back in the States now for a good 6 months and have also been unemployed for 6 months. So really, since I’m [...]

I enjoy days like today. Where I am actually busy in the majority of my waking hours. There wasn’t anything too excited that happened but anything that has me seeing a little bit of progress is good. Spent the morning at the Drop In Centre setting up their new office space. It’s a strange situation [...]

As most of you know through my numerous emails and Facebook posts, I am participating in a marathon (the Longtom) on March 31 to raise money for the Kgwale le Mollo Foundation which provides full ride scholarships to needy, deserving children from rural South Africa. It was started by a couple of Peace Corps volunteers a few years ago and is still going strong! Check out the website for all the details about the Foundation and profiles of the current learners it is supporting!

http://www.klm-foundation.org

To sponsor me in my run, go to the Donate Now! icon and follow the instructions for online payments. Just don't forget to mention my name as who you are sponsoring! If you prefer to send in a check, these are the instructions:

1. Make out a check to: Kgwale Le Mollo (US)

2. Include a note designating the donation to your name.

3. Mail it to:

KLM Foundation (US)

c/o Bowen Hsu

461 So. Bonita Avenue

Pasadena, CA 91107

If you read my last post about the state of the South African education system, you will understand how important and wonderful this project is!

The following is from their website:

"Consider these statistics:

Only 7 percent of public schools in the Mpumalanga Province have a library and only 5 percent have a computer lab.

Of those students in Mpumalanga who sit for the high school graduation exam, less than 50 percent pass. This is the second lowest rate of achievement of any province in South Africa.

Of the students who graduate, only 12 percent qualify for a four-year university.

For those students who enter a four-year university, the outlook is bleak: only 15 percent of enrolled South Africans will graduate."

Thanks for all your support!

XOXO,

Kristina :)

Kevin Drum has a provocative thought:

I am, as always, speaking only for myself, but I think this is too cramped. The Constitution says that the purpose of patents and copyright is to "promote the Progress of Science and useful Arts," but the fact that the Constitution says this doesn't mean it's the only reason to grant patents and copyrights. There's another reason too: because creators have a moral right to profit from their works. In real life, pretty much everyone acts as if they believe this, and I suspect that for most of us it's the real underpinning of our support for IP law.I don't think this works, though as a broke-ass writer I would much like it to be true. The act of writing, or making music, or whatever, is not an intrinsically worthy undertaking. Suppose I write some book and put it in a cabinet in my basement. Do I deserve to profit from that, simply from the act of creating it? If Hitler yet lived would he have a moral claim to monopoly rents from Mein Kampf? Does everyone who borrows a book from a friend, or checks one out from the library, have a moral obligation to pay the author? This is absurd.

I do think, however, that some moral principle might be salvaged. The readers are what is missing from the equation. No one deserves to profit from something that is not read. Here's a try: anyone who consumes some content, and likes it, has a moral obligation to compensate the creator in some way. This is to say that abject illegal downloading is morally wrong. It could take several forms, including just passing the word that it was a great work and you enjoyed it, especially if you are famous yourself. Publicity, especially for relative unknowns, is often more valuable to the creator as cash.

Can anyone come up with a better principle?

This past weekend was my last in the village.  I spend most of my weekends in Polokwane, because I am part of a church there.  However, as this was my last weekend, I made sure to spend it back in Ramatjowe.  Saturday was busy around the Masipa household, as family began to arrive and everyone [...]

We try to limit our blog posting to things that might be interesting to other people, besides just our moms, while at the same time not publishing incriminating, whiny, or excessively negative or critical things. However, the line is often thin, what with the risks inherent of electronic communication, that something that was merely meant to be discussed as funny or interesting could be mistaken for a critical or negative post. So in our normal, modern life today, unlike in South Africa, we don't always have much good blogging material. But this week we did something that just seemed like blogging material.

We went to the dentist!

Now, we don't have dental insurance here, which is fine, because last time we checked (when we left Peace Corps, 10 months ago) our teeth and mouths were in perfect health. All the same, wanting to shoot for "an ounce of prevention," it seemed worthwhile to find a dentist. But I wasn't sure where to start, especially with no idea what basic services like a check-up or cleaning would go for here, without insurance. I knew from past personal experience that in Brazil, it costs next to nothing, and in England, prices are reasonable for good service, and that in the United States, prices are not so good, if you have any trouble at all (or they claim you have any trouble at all...), even with the sort-of-kind-of insurance that people typically have. I also know that here you can get a burger for less than a dollar or for 30 dollars depending on where you go, so I felt like I was on fairly unstable footing to find a good, cheap dentist here in town.

This situation led me to imagine I might choose a dentist based on it having a Groupon. For those of you who don't know, Groupon is one of a few different companies that have a web presence here and many other cities worldwide, where there are deals for all kinds of things, from wrist watches and hotel stays, to meal vouchers and dental visits. It's a good way to stab out into the unknown; for instance, when we wanted to try out having a one-time cleaning service (something which is cheap and many expats make use of here...) we tried out a Groupon to get a sense of what is provided. You send your payment and print out a voucher and then make an appointment or otherwise use the coupon for the service/project you have received. The nice thing is that you pay upfront so you know the cost; they also claim to offer you a discounted rate, which allows you to try something new that might be intimidating if you don't know the cost beforehand.

So I bought the Groupon, for a cleaning, "ultra sonic scaling," and whitening "a-powder polishing," at a local dentist, for 2. Their website looked as nice as any other, as did the ad, so why not?

But who wants to actually go to the dentist? 3 months later, the vouchers sat on our kitchen counter with the expiry date approaching. The fine print read that you could only come in the mornings during work days, so it took a few phone calls to the husband and the dentist and a check-in with my supervisor at work before I could schedule the appointment. It was this last Monday morning, at 11.

Having printed out some local maps, Tim drove us out, not far from where we live actually, until we found the building with the specific "medical and dental centre," advertised both in English and in Arabic. The clinic was on the second floor of an old building, and we climbed up poorly lit stairs to the mezzanine and opened a slightly moldy door to enter the office. (Mold is pretty normal here in stairways, though, since air conditioning stairs is not always so easy.)

In some ways all was normal, in other ways not. The waiting area and reception were not unclean-looking or anything like that, but they definitely did not have the sterile, cold, plastic feel we have grown accustomed to expecting in health care facilities in the states. There was a special women's waiting area, but we instead sat together in creaky metal chairs in the main office while the office assistants copied our national identification cards, and inquired about whether or not we were employed and whether or not we were married ("to each other, in fact," Tim cheerily replied). A few Emiratis came in while we waited for other appointments, but we didn't wait long.

First Tim was summoned, and about 10 minutes later I was summoned. A young woman asked some basic health questions, transcribing my responses on a small blank notepad, before taking my blood pressure, and then ushering me to a waiting room next to where Tim was getting started. Though I passed the basic tests so far, no doubt my blood pressure started to rise as I waited, as I saw 2 women walking purposefully in and out of the room Tim was in. Was something wrong? Was Tim okay? Was everything okay?

I started becoming filled with doubt and uncertainty. Surely I should not have gone to a dentist merely because it had a Groupon! My poor husband is now going to have some problem when he never had one before, when he's never had a cavity or needed a tooth extracted or root canal in his life! Tim, with his perfect dental health, and even extra wisdom teeth which made him a marvel to the Peace Corps dentists in South Africa. Tim, who has at times even suggested he has some doubts about the legitimacy of the dental industry in general. And now I've sent him off for who knows what kind of treatment.

A minute later Tim came out of the room with a sideways smile; he was moving to another room as one of the machines wasn't working properly in that room. I couldn't help but laugh, though I still felt fairly tense.

Another ten minutes went by, before Tim emerged again, smiling a smile that made me know he had finished his procedure without further incident. Now it was my turn, to step into the dentist's office.

The office was a strange mix of office and lab, with a large, wooden desk next to the dental equipment, and was a bit untidy though not filthy or anything like that. As I sat and was given large safety goggles and a kind of shower cap to cover my hair, the (male) dentist asked if I had any dental issues before explaining; first, he would clean as needed, and then he would do scaling and whitening. Then I was tilted back and blinded with the overhead light, as is customary at many dentist offices.

After a brief poke around, I was given a scaling/polishing like no other. A strange liquid was blasted quite forcefully throughout my mouth, as the dental assistant sought continuously to prevent the watery mixture from spraying everywhere from my mouth to my clothes, my ears, and so on. Then I was asked to rinse with iodine rinse, which also seemed like a totally new experience to me. Next the doctor put some kind of red gel on a gauze clothe and inserted that into my mouth for a few minutes. Then lots and lots of rinsing. Then I was done.

Turns out there was also an exam provided at no extra charge. The dentist told me gently that my mouth was in fine health, no work was urgently needed, and recommended a water pick and the best kinds of places to get it for a good price. Tim had similarly been recommended a certain kind of toothpaste.

So we emerged safe and sound, with clean and actually very white teeth, with little discomfort outside of the stress of the unknown, which sort of snuck up on us, after visits to dentists and doctors in South Africa, which were all extremely ordinary and uneventful. While we were both in some anguish at some points during our visit, we left giggling in delight over what a weird and wonderful dentist office we had visited, with fairly exceptional and interesting service provided for about 80 bucks each.

We might even go back.

When I returned to work exhilarated with tales regarding my mini lunch-break adventure, my supervisors just shook their heads, laughing that there is an American dental clinic in town which no doubt would better serve our needs and expectations the next time.

But it was a bonding experience, and even better, Tim didn't count it as his Valentine's gift to me, but gave me a proper Valentine's experience for all of the next day. I got home from work to find roses, champagne, chocolates, and a hubby in a suit, and we had a nice seafood dinner on an outside deck at one of our favorite restaurants. We've both been very busy lately as Tim has also been working now both at the Naval College and at the Abu Dhabi Women's College. So it was nice to do something to reward ourselves after a month of non-stop working and sleeping.

Though the expat lifestyle is not without its stresses, and dilemmas like missing family and friends back home, the one thing you can never say is that it is entirely boring. Even going to the dentist is interesting, maybe more interesting than one would prefer, but it's nice to have something to laugh about, in the middle of normal, everyday life.

As I ride the 90 minute trip to and from Polokwane, my shopping town, I pass some interesting sights, geological and otherwise. The long rock layer in the above pictures is best viewed on the ride home from town. As the road takes us closer and closer to the mountain, the mountain’s size and rocky [...]

Here's the great man riffing off the latest racism directed at Jeremy Lin (people claiming he only gets attention because he's of Asian descent):

I would bet that part of the attention that Neil Degresse Tyson gets has to do with people geeking out on a black astrophysicist who can make science interesting. If were not black he probably would be somewhat less interesting. But if he weren't a good communicator, he would not be interesting at all.I consider myself a writer of some merit and talent, who says some interesting things from time to time. That's all very nice. But I understand that if I were in my exact same job, and happened to be just another white dude from an Ivy, I'd attract less interest. Race, as lived by individuals, is biography and people are always interested in biography when it differs from the norm in any field. I have no idea why it should be any different with Lin.Coates is right on this score, and his forthrightness is as always impressive. I always think about this sort of thing in the context of journalism, which is (as Coates has said before) surely one of the white-malest professions out there. At the Monthly, all of the editorial staff are white men (save the new intern, who is a Chinese woman, and an amazingly good fact-checker, I might add). Of the Atlantic bloggers, seven out of nine are white men. Now, I should note that I don't think there is much in the way of conscious racism on the part of most publications in journalism, certainly not on the part of the Monthly. But something has developed which has fenced out most minorities and women in some way.

That is bad for a lot of reasons, most of them well-trodden. But one which comes up unbidden in my own mind is selfish irritation about being lost in the crowd. No wonder I can't get a job—I'm just another mid-twenties balding white guy in a profession (and city) that has them like a plague of locusts. But I really do have an interesting background, pleads the whining child in my head. I didn't go to an Ivy school! I grew up working-class, in an absurdly small town in an interesting and beautiful state! My parents met in Grand Canyon! My dad builds awesome tables out of stone! I lived in South Africa for two years!

It's hard to imagine anything more preposterous than a decently accommodated white man whinging about his lot. And yet, I have these thoughts. No point pretending I don't, except to make like I'm better than I really am. What interests me is that this is just one more example of the harm that oppression inevitably inflicts upon its perpetrators as well as its victims, how it erases our personhood into the various categories. In that video above, it's telling that Folds' parody band is composed of a bunch of copies of himself.

I am currently in the process of packing up my room to move out.  I have to spend a week in Pretoria for the official COS process, then, on March 1, I become a RPCV!  Yay! However, packing has been an interesting experience, and since I need a break from it, I decided I’d tell [...]

Witness Vanessa Rossi, at a New York Times roundup:

Portugal has failed to cut its external deficit for a different reason: it has had virtually no internal devaluation. Nominal G.D.P. remains at its 2008 peak. The nation has export capability (over 30 percent of G.D.P.), but it must do more to boost net trade. Portugal may actually be a country that would find adjustment a whole lot easier if it could have a little more wiggle room on its exchange rate.The failure of internal devaluation can only reflect on the moral weakness of the Portuguese, never on the policy itself.

By comparison, Ireland may be struggling with the sudden appearance of bank bailout debt, but early fiscal austerity coupled with internal devaluation were effective in stimulating net exports and eliminating its boom-time current account deficit. And export-led growth will at least help to stabilize the Irish economy and improve a budget position now saddled with debt servicing costs.Ah yes, the great Irish success of austerity. How's that going again?

Ireland Export Adviser Warns of Weak Growth:

The economic adviser to the Irish Exporters Association—representing small and large exporting firms—warned Wednesday that Ireland's economic outlook has worsened significantly as the economy will, at best, not grow at all this year.The best sentence is at the end, though: "Debt restructuring alone is insufficient and may even encourage a return to laxity." Oh, the dreaded laxity. Where would we be without elites to castigate the moral failings of the masses?

Call me Tom, most of my village does. If not Tom then some other form including Tomo, Thomas, Tommy, Thomisa, Tom & Jerry (yes the cartoon), Teacher Tom, or Thomani. Thomani is my Venda name that means beginning or start it's also very close to my surname Toman. In South Africa people normally put their surname (last name) first followed by initials-- Toman K. S. -- and often introduce themselves by their surname. This means that people thought Toman was my first name and that Thomani comes from my first name. Meaning to most in my village I'm Tom.

Frogs. I have a lot frogs. They seem to really like my room and I catch at least one a night to take out. My host brother, Grade 9, and his friends will run, and run far, if they see me with a frog. They really don't like getting near them. Snakes are another creature that are really feared and hated here. My host dad actually swerved in the road to hit a snake, I thought we were going to crash, and when he found out he had missed backed the car up. He then parked it and got out to throw rocks at the snake until it was dead. This took about 20 minutes in all.

At my schools I'm trying to get libraries started. We have the books, well we have old textbooks, and we have the space. We just need to figure out shelving, organization of the library and how to organize the books. If anyone has any suggestions on funding sources, methods or anything else please let me know.

Neighbor’s corn field School corn field gone bad. In rural South Africa, most homes have a garden, and in most gardens corn is grown. There may be just a dozen or so corn stalks or there may be 100+. All the other plants are variable (e.g., tomatoes, pumpkin, spinach), but corn is practically a guaranteed [...]

Hugs and kisses from me and my friends in the Northern Cape, South Africa :)PS: Here's some great reading that could easily describe me or any other PCV or RPCV! http://www.peacecorpsconnect.org/2012/02/12-reasons-to-date-a-returned-peace-corps-volunteer/ #2,#8 and #12 and #1=me

The Monthly has a special sneak preview of the new issue with a long piece on Bahrain. The thing was a beast of a fact-check, but it's a really interesting and a great read. Take a look.

Keletso running the 1200m I know I have posted a lot on Sports recently, but it is the play-offs (run-offs) for the schools, and I was invited to attend the Area Sports Day last weekend. In case you are confused, it goes school-cluster-area-district…then maybe provincial and national. I’m not too sure about what goes on [...]

It’s Valentine’s Day! A day when we celebrate friendship, love, and romance. Through the years here at the National Peace Corps Association, we’ve heard countless stories of Peace Corps romance. The couples that met at the airport on the way to training. The couples that met while serving. The Peace Corps Volunteers that fell in love with a host country national. And the Returned Peace Corps Volunteers that connected back here in the States, discovering that the shared bond of Peace Corps service was the spark that led to a relationship.

Peace Corps is a life-changing experience that develops a unique set of skills and attributes. So it goes without saying: Returned Peace Corps Volunteers make GREAT dates. And just to prove it, we’ve started a list.12 reasons to date a Returned Peace Corps Volunteer:

Source

We can woo you in multiple languages. Who else is going to whisper sweet nothings to you in everything from Albanian to Hausa to Quechua to Xhosa? That’s right. Only a Returned Peace Corps Volunteer.We’re pretty good dancers. Yeah, we don’t like to brag, but after 27 months in Latin America or Africa we know how to move it. We’ll eat anything. Seriously. No matter how bad your cooking, Returned Peace Corps Volunteers have had worse and will eat it with nary a blink. Sheep’s eyeball? Water buffalo gall bladder? Grasshoppers? Bush rat? Bring it. We know all about safe sex, thanks to our very thorough Peace Corps health training. In fact, there’s a chance that we’ve stood unblushingly in front of hundreds of villagers and demonstrated good condom technique with a large wooden phallus. We’ll kill spiders for you. Well, actually, we’ll nonchalantly scoop them up and put them out of sight. Same goes for mice, geckos, frogs, snakes. Critters don’t faze Returned Volunteers. We have great date ideas: wandering a street market, checking out a foreign film, taking in a world music concert, volunteering…. Romantic getaway? Our passport is updated and our suitcase is packed. With us, life is always an adventure. We like you for “you”… not your paycheck. Especially if we are freshly back from service, a local joint with “character” will win out over a pretentious eatery. Living in a group house? Does it have running hot water? What luxury! You won’t get lost when you’re with a Returned Peace Corps Volunteer. Navigating local markets on four continents, we’ve honed an uncanny sense of direction. Or else we’ll ask for directions. We’re not afraid to talk to “strangers.” Waiting for a late train or bus? Don’t worry, we’ve been there, done that. We can share lots of funny stories about “the bus ride from hell” that will make the time go quickly and put it all into perspective. Our low-maintenance fashion style. Returned Peace Corps Volunteer guys are secure in their manhood and don’t mind rocking a sarong. Women often prefer flip flops to high heels. We don’t spend hours in front of a mirror getting ready to go out. Marry us, and you won’t just get one family — you’ll get two! When we refer to our “brother” or “mom,” you’ll want to be certain we’re talking about our American one or our Peace Corps one. You might even get two wedding ceremonies, one in the U.S. and one back in our Peace Corps country. And last but not least, we aren’t afraid to get dirty.

If you thought I was deep enough in the South African bush to forget about Valentine’s Day – you’re wrong. I received an sms just after midnight telling me “Happy Valentine’s Day,” I was given a fake rose and had many people shout “Happy Valentine’s!” as I walked around town today. Granted all of these gestures were from my girl friends – not from some pursuing knight in shining armour, but it is telling just how much of the “first world” has seeped into the culture of even the most rural areas in South Africa. My sister also gave me a card that read," To Zanele. Mandela spent 27 years in jail to find freedom and created by the poverty in the world and me spend the last 2 cents to say Happy Valentine's Day and I love you so much. From: Ntombe" God, I love this country.