tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76174301878530500832024-03-19T00:52:31.035-07:00Jet Setter. Go Getter. Nothing Better.I've been lucky enough to land a job that sends me all over the world. Since it's hard to keep track of emails, I hope this'll help keep you posted on my adventures and ramblings.Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11907875832047377609noreply@blogger.comBlogger22125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7617430187853050083.post-29664971722624256032012-07-02T16:10:00.003-07:002012-07-02T16:10:57.016-07:00Dominican RepublicI'm sitting in a little cafe in our Casa de Campo resort, taking advantage of wifi and air conditioning, an entire world apart from where I've been working all morning. Along with a handful of other med students and a pediatric resident, I've been spending a good portion of the day walking through Bateye 16, home to a few hundred or so migrant Haitian workers. The setting is similar to the communities in Guatemala where I worked previously, populated by coffee plantation workers. This time however, the men work on a sugar cane plantation owned by an absurdly large and overarching company called Central Romana.<br />
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I'm a week in to this trip and continue to feel as though I learn so much about the people around me and their countries--both home and adopted. My project endeavors to sketch a portrait of their lives, specifically within the context of healthcare. I'm interested in their relationship with various healthcare providers--hospitals, clinics, health promoters--and what barriers keep them from accessing such care, be they monetary, personal, or work-related. In my interviews, I ask each person about their lives, when and why they moved to the DR from Haiti, feelings about their job and their health, thoughts about their families and moving back to Haiti.<br />
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I've found myself in some rather interesting conversations, some disheartening, some entirely outside the realm of logic (these data points might have to be thrown out for unreliability). I think I'll try to take some photos of the more intriguing stories and type up little blurbs when I'm stateside next.<br />
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During these daily community survey visits, we've encountered some interesting clinical cases. Annie, another med student and good friend of mine, is working on a hypertension study. As part of her interview, she measures blood pressures of each of our subjects. The number of HTN cases we've found is almost unbelievable. I've heard our translator run through the Creole version of HTN management so many times now, and every time am disappointed by our inability to provide medication or any sort of support other than dietary and lifestyle modification tips.<br />
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Toward the end of last week, we interviewed a middle-aged woman, at the end of her 10th pregnancy. Her BP was 230/110 which is absurdly high, pointing toward <a href="http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmedhealth/PMH0001900/" target="_blank">preeclampsia</a>. We took her to the hospital that afternoon and spoke with the big boss man about her case. The treatment for preeclampsia is to deliver the baby, if he/she is viable. Turns out our patient was full term, though she had reported being 8mo pregnant. There was talk of preemptive and non-consented tubal ligation to prevent future cases of pre-eclampsia...the medical ethics part of me is throwing a fit just thinking about it. At the same time however, I can understand his perspective--families living in the bateyes can't generally afford quality healthcare, nor do they have enough time away from work to seek it out. Hospital visits tend to occur in the most emergent of cases, and issues that don't impact their ability to work rarely gets the clinical management it should. Still, a secret tubal is probably not the best policy.<br />
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When we went to visit her the next morning, she asked about her baby whom she hadn't seen since the delivery. We checked in on her newborn and found her to be doing well, tucked away in one of the two incubators in the tiny one-room NICU. She was one of the most beautiful little babies I've seen. I wonder what would have happened had we not interviewed this woman that day. Having worked in the public health field for some time, I am not as affected by the situations I see as I once was. Even in my early, though mild, case of cynicism, I found our encounters with this woman to be heartwarming. Getting her to the hospital, seeing her through the process and safely home again, gave me such a sense of fulfillment as I haven't felt in awhile. I only wish solutions were so easy to come by in all of the other cases. I'm curious to learn more about how this whole event fits into this woman's life, from a social standpoint. We essentially kidnapped her and within 24 hours, she had a baby girl and her family had yet to find out. And what about the tubal? What implications will that have on her life?<br />
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It's been an interesting experience working with this community. I've learned a lot from their stories and am always left wishing I had the power and the means to do more than just nod sympathetically. I am learning a bit of Creole though. It's been fun. The guys we're working with are great--helpful, fun, and committed to their community. It's really nice to see.<br />
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Impoverished and vulnerable communities like Bateye 16 are far from lacking in the world. Having worked in similar settings does not make it any less upsetting to hear about and see the difficult lives they lead. But my interactions with such communities fuels my motivation to learn about the body, medicine, healthcare, in the hopes of changing the world one life at a time. I read something once that comes to mind now:<br />
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"Certain things catch your eye but pursue only those that capture your heart."<br />
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I think I've found that thing, and I fully intend to do just that. Sometimes school just gets in the way of learning.<br />
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Haven't uploaded pictures yet, but will do so when I'm stateside!Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11907875832047377609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7617430187853050083.post-44981948283397614532012-07-02T15:17:00.001-07:002012-07-02T15:17:31.669-07:00Pura VidaDespite the last post, it turns out I've had plenty of opportunity to travel since April. I made it to Costa Rica twice in April and May, and am currently in the Dominican Republic working on research project.<br />
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In CR, I had ambitious plans for my last-minute trip, to make it to both the Caribbean and Pacific coasts. I walked up to the beach in Puerto Viejo de Talamanca on the Caribbean coast, and never left. When it came time to leave, I almost didn't leave, being so enraptured by this place. It was absolutely gorgeous. It gave me an opportunity to step out of the crazy responsibility-laden life I normally lead, and to simply live in the moment, on a beach with some great people. I could go on forever about how much I love CR, but it might turn into rambling. I went the second time with the man friend, which was equally enjoyable in a very different way. It doesn't quite exude the romance of Kenya, but the beaches stretch for miles, the beer's served up cold, and the people are lovely. The water is incredibly warm at all times, perfect for those of us who like a little night-time swim every now and again.<br />
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The coconut rice on this coast is tannnn rico. If you ever find yourself in Puerto Viejo, might I suggest staying at either Cabinas Larry or El Dorado...they're both great little hostels, the first at $12/person/night in a private room, the second $10/person in a more hostel type setting. Both have free wifi, though it's relatively easy to come across wifi in this awesome little beach town.<br />
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Ben and I also rented bikes for less than $10/day and biked down the coast, stopping at different beaches along the way. It's a great way to get around and check out the nearby playas. The next time I get down there, I'm hoping to get down to the Panama border, as well as the other coast. I'd love to talk more about it if you're interested mes amis, but don't want to bore y'all with details. So as always, email me if you want to hear more!<br />
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<br />Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11907875832047377609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7617430187853050083.post-63999943256932807742012-04-02T14:11:00.000-07:002012-04-02T14:11:10.151-07:00I'm back!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I realize it's been almost a year since I last updated this blog, as some of you so kindly pointed out. Normally, I would be embarrassed about my slackage, but since I was never the blogger type, I don't feel so bad. My last post was after the amazing Masai Mara safari in Kenya. I still have very fond memories of that trip, and I look forward to the next time I'll be traveling in Kenya...hopefully next time, I'll have a travel buddy. Any takers??</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">As an update on the rest of the trip, I traveled up the coast of Kenya, stopping in Mombasa and the little island of Lamu. Mombasa was this sultry, coastal city full of history, exuding a mysterious and fun-loving vibe against a traditional, religious background. I met friends of friends here, enjoyed a massive seafood dinner on a boat, and stayed in what seemed like a miniature palace. Then there was Lamu. If only I could've spent more time here. The entire island was pedestrian and donkey-only (unless you count the sole tractor I've seen around). The streets were uneven and narrow, lined by tiny storefronts hiding what might have been secret treasures long forgotten. The beaches were empty and the water a clear blue. I befriended a guy named Moses who showed me around and made sure I wasn't bothered excessively by the sleazier types. The food was great, and the views beautiful. If you're headed there soon, I highly recommend the hostel I stayed at. The rooms were clean and huge, the staff super friendly. They even had a mini library which was convenient for my lazy beach days.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWGqfA4tolCGC0tNFs7ChkOeSAjW5ZHmcXTOSy-YLInv4cG8zog_Gb2YJyZ93fnBuF51nLp2GZlm-L9Of4fuCrhzWOoNs1xy4nprIaSvo4ix-Z1OaJ7O-0vATsPRbNg9dQG0csEHNvvvTW/s1600/247148_2026818024614_1068930008_32362682_2932864_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWGqfA4tolCGC0tNFs7ChkOeSAjW5ZHmcXTOSy-YLInv4cG8zog_Gb2YJyZ93fnBuF51nLp2GZlm-L9Of4fuCrhzWOoNs1xy4nprIaSvo4ix-Z1OaJ7O-0vATsPRbNg9dQG0csEHNvvvTW/s320/247148_2026818024614_1068930008_32362682_2932864_n.jpg" width="213" /></a></div> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">My trip back to Nairobi was a little more eventful than it should have been. The short story? I hitchhiked my way back down the coast, felt the fight-or-flight response engage when we pulled off onto an unfamiliar dark side road (to explore some shared mansion, it turns out), and crashed at a complete stranger's house. But, I survived.</span><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Rwanda was my final stop before a return trip home from Nairobi. I saw parts of Kigali and Rwinkwavu, Partners in Health HQ. We had an interesting tour through the hospital, where I was acutely reminded of the motivation behind these med school dreams of mine. It was a nice end to a good trip that I wish could have gone on longer. I'd love to make it back some time. But now that I'm on med school lockdown, it may be some time before I get either the time or the dinero to make it happen. One day...</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">In the meantime, it looks like las aventuras de crystal are going to be much more domestic. There's a potential Dominican Republic trip planned a few months from now, but before that happens, I'll keep you posted on the life of a struggling med student who's rediscovered an obsession with working out.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Three main motivations:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><ol><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Diabetes sucks. and it's a risk factor for everything else. (for all my friends with diabetes, I feel your pain and promise to be a compassionate MD to all my DM patients)</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Anatomy. Have you seen what fat looks like inside the body? Not a good look. Also, muscles. Sexy.</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Gotta stay on that grind if there's even a slight chance my residency will resemble Grey's Anatomy. Helloooo, McSteamy.</span></li>
</ol><div style="line-height: 0px; padding-bottom: 2px;"><a href="http://pinterest.com/pin/157274211957199229/" target="_blank"><img border="0" height="393" src="http://media-cache6.pinterest.com/upload/285274957616301435_R8jMnWfx_c.jpg" width="500" /></a></div><div style="float: left; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><div style="color: #76838b; font-size: 10px;">Source: <a href="http://27.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lu65v7kkMP1qga8j3o1_500.png" style="color: #76838b; font-size: 10px; text-decoration: underline;">27.media.tumblr.com</a> via <a href="http://pinterest.com/julialolita/" style="color: #76838b; font-size: 10px; text-decoration: underline;" target="_blank">Julia</a> on <a href="http://pinterest.com/" style="color: #76838b; text-decoration: underline;" target="_blank">Pinterest</a></div></div>Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11907875832047377609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7617430187853050083.post-90827558261895654282011-06-07T03:20:00.000-07:002011-06-07T05:47:53.333-07:00Maasai Mara Safari<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I'm currently safari-ing in Maasai Mara, easily one of the most stunning places I've ever seen. The views alone are worth the trip. I flew here from Nairobi in a tiny 12-passenger plane, getting the chance to fly low over much of the park, seeing everything from buffalo to impalas, giraffes to elephants. I'm staying at the &Beyond Kichwa Tembo tented camp. I can't recommend this place, or Maasai Mara strongly enough. The staff is awesome, the accommodations couldn't be cooler, the food's great, and the views are impressive. My tent is a bit raised, so I feel like I'm literally sitting in a really swank treehouse. The tents are an ideal place to stay because they're comfortable with nice beds and nice bathrooms, but you're definitely still in the bush (albeit, a very comfy one with wireless every now and then). There's no electricity in the early evenings, so you use candlelight, which I love...it's a pretty romantic setting, in the middle of the jungle with only candles to light the room. (For the more practical, there are real lightbulbs in ceiling lanterns and stylish bedside reading lamps when the electricity's on after 6:30pm.) Funny thing about being in the jungle--they only allow 15 kilos of baggage on the small planes, so I took only my backpack, scrambling a bit to switch just what I needed from my hiking pack to the backpack while in the airport. In my rush, I forgot to pack PJs, so I slept mostly naked. It was a surprisingly primal feeling to go to bed half naked in a tree, in the middle of the jungle, listening to the sounds of monkeys moving about the surrounding trees and lions and cheetahs roaring not too far off. The only thing more primal-feeling I'd think (short of sprinting out barefoot for a quick hunt, spear in hand, Maasai style), would be to, ahem, get intimate with your baby, baby, baby (a la TLC), in a tree in the middle of the jungle, to the sounds of monkeys, lions, and cheetahs. Haha. Anyway, like I said, this place is amazing. They go out of their way to make you comfortable. In fact, last night when I was ready for bed, I shimmied my way under the covers and my foot hit something soft and warm. Scared the crap out of me, thinking it was some animal that had snuck in and burrowed deep in bed. It was actually a hot water bottle (which is perfect, cuz my feet are always the last to warm up) that had been placed there when my guy turned down the sheets for me and rolled down the tent windows (don't need any peering monkey eyes in the middle of the night). And the wake up call before breakfast/the morning game drive involves tea or coffee with biscuits brought to your tent...of course, since it couldn't be left outside (lest the monkeys get to it first), I was in a bit of a scramble to find some article of clothing before receiving the best tea ever.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">But enough about the lodge. Long story short, if you're ever in Maasai Mara, the Kichwa Tembo tented camp is where it's at. And let me know you're coming so I can come too! Another plus about this place is that a portion of the funds you give are funneled toward their conservancy efforts here in Maasai Mara. The park itself is absolutely amazing. It's the stuff dreams (and Disney movies--shoutout to Rafiki and Simba) are made of. Stretches of tall grass as far as the eye can see in every direction, dotted by solitary trees and herds of all kinds of animals. Mara is a Maasai word for "something dotted," in reference to the appearance of the savannah from above. I've been here less than 24 hours and have seen giraffes, hippos, lions, cheetahs, impalas, antelope, warthogs, all kinds of birds and small game animals, crocodiles, elephants, etc etc. The zebras here are super affectionate. I saw tons of what I like to call zebra kisses, and several of them could be found with their heads rested on the neck/upper back of another, and vice versa. Adorable. The hippos on the other hand, were so mean to each other. There was a big group of them that kept chasing away one lone guy...they first started wagging their short tails really fast. Then, one of them approached this poor dude, turned around so his butt faced him, and wagged his tail. Finally, they converged on him, forcing him out of the Mara river. The group next to them actually had one bully chase him across the bank of the river. If giraffes are the basketball players of the animal kingdom, hippos are the biggest, meanest linebackers. They're HUGE but holy crap, they can run. Other than that, the cheetahs were pretty awesome. I saw one with his freshly caught kill, a little antelope. A leopard has left the head of his prey strung across a branch in a tree. (They can carry three times their weight up into the trees!). The lions were super lazy, just chillin in the tall grass.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Had a little chat with a real live Maasai dude. Their village is 2km from the lodge, so they wander in and out sometimes (so do the warthogs who apparently are primed for mating season right now, sprinting across the garden after each other). They'll be putting together a little performance of sorts tonight before dinner (tourism has reached its claws into the Maasai tribe, too...and I am embarrassed to say I'll be indulging myself). The traditional diet of cow milk and blood is what gives them mad hops, apparently. I remembered that little fact from a random children's book about the Maasai that I read multiple times in elementary. However, homeboy said a lot of the younger generation that go to school have stopped drinking as much blood. The rest of the community sticks to the traditional staples, though.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Man. Neither words nor pictures could describe this place. It's an experience you should definitely add to the bucket list. The internet's super slow here (we <i>are</i> essentially in the bush), so I won't upload pics til I get back to Nairobi, but check the fb album in a few days. I've still got another day and a half here, before I'm headed to Mombasa, so I should have a ton of pics.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">After this, Mombasa, Lamu, Uganda, Rwanda. Yes, I got my yellow fevs vaccine at the Nairobi Hospital. Ha. Wayyy cheaper to get vaccines here than at PAMF. And the kids in the vaccine clinic are the cutest things everrr. And don't worry, I'm also prophylaxing, unlike in Burma/Thailand. Oops. Now I've got lunch, then another game drive. I've already fallen in love with Kenya. Can't wait til my next trip back.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Asante sana for reading, btw! </span>Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11907875832047377609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7617430187853050083.post-24247994100331631252011-06-05T12:38:00.000-07:002011-06-05T12:40:52.706-07:00Madaraka, Lake Nakuru, and Safaris<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi299DmrzooS4WmWHc1k8l5-hCpl_cfqDuTJDX2wt_DXv4AFFRy3zIJLo_CgMX7S-fMrtYQPwWQKdN88INnDfZi7NLWmSNMlS3xvwix2V1b-AReFbAqT1VSY3VSjVeviy8RvXEqze1a0z6e/s1600/P1140180.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi299DmrzooS4WmWHc1k8l5-hCpl_cfqDuTJDX2wt_DXv4AFFRy3zIJLo_CgMX7S-fMrtYQPwWQKdN88INnDfZi7NLWmSNMlS3xvwix2V1b-AReFbAqT1VSY3VSjVeviy8RvXEqze1a0z6e/s320/P1140180.JPG" width="320" /></a>I've been in Nairobi for a few days now, and have loved it more and more as I see new things and meet new people. The first night I was here was the day before Madaraka day (Kenyan independence day) so Nairobi was crazy. Expats and Kenyans alike were out celebrating that night, into the early hours of the morning. Despite all the warnings about the crime here in "Nairobbery," I've felt pretty safe walking around where I'm staying. Of course, like any big city, you'd be asking for trouble if you walked around at night and flashed them dolla bills, or shillings, I should say.<br />
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Post-Madaraka, I tagged along on a one-day safari to Lake Nakuru with a guy who's visiting from Chicago. It was pretty amazing, to say the least. We saw all kinds of animals, up close: rhinos, buffaloes, flamingos, giraffes, baboons, hyenas, antelopes, gazelles, Pumba (warthogs), etc. There are several lookout points that offer surreal panoramic landscapes of acacia forest, savanna, and water, dotted with herds of animals. Even the dirt here has this really rich red color that makes the different plants pop.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEicOKaZEP1AQQB4qYhUQhZ5ZPstTQ1XLKSmm8i9aFhgKsisl5q6EInkw_2GNspPGkEcF_dE1LqIofRV8ES_On3r_Vpo1Ig9eRy6aPkOdXXMughUJ4Ogs6skOGwqZlC4f6pS9hARMJDly-/s1600/P1140189.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEicOKaZEP1AQQB4qYhUQhZ5ZPstTQ1XLKSmm8i9aFhgKsisl5q6EInkw_2GNspPGkEcF_dE1LqIofRV8ES_On3r_Vpo1Ig9eRy6aPkOdXXMughUJ4Ogs6skOGwqZlC4f6pS9hARMJDly-/s320/P1140189.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBZQabCJ3V2zGZ53qLwqYRpyLXK5pycYozmyqdDQryLamnE-eFu3glieQ4lU694myPrUKnx_wCRiwWvxlbYXLscSGcMHtDnWHnPaDyjuEMTtANfcj9jkTfPKDnmtMZcSDVWQJzbwlr9vMu/s1600/P1140185.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBZQabCJ3V2zGZ53qLwqYRpyLXK5pycYozmyqdDQryLamnE-eFu3glieQ4lU694myPrUKnx_wCRiwWvxlbYXLscSGcMHtDnWHnPaDyjuEMTtANfcj9jkTfPKDnmtMZcSDVWQJzbwlr9vMu/s320/P1140185.JPG" width="320" /><br />
I spent half a day hitting some of the tourist stops in Nairobi. This little adventure focused on getting up close and personal with giraffes and crocodiles. Pretty cool. Giraffes are one of the neatest animals I've ever seen. They're like the basketball players of African wildlife--tall, lanky, with a swagger in their gait. Although, their eyeballs are much bigger than I expected and their tongues are ridiculously slimy--antiseptic, I learned. Crocodiles have really soft underbellies, no tongues, and a suction-like snap to their grill that cracks big bamboo sticks. Oh! They've also got two eyelids, allowing them to keep the inner translucent one closed underwater, so they can see excellently. We also stopped by Karen Blixen Museum, the second Kenyan home of the author of Out of Africa (inspired the movie of the same title with Robert Redford and Meryl Streep).<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWFUYGoKXm7wsyTswPGmKKOzvI8pZfSVyQvfYQ859dm-63S9F_x7ckFpkV6zt1B_eSkM2PYn3xOQjvdnPls2PXtpXsaoHV3t-VeWKcT9vDgsx4BkG7dC0OTYotPD7Nheiiv8Q9NccFUwVz/s1600/P1140192.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWFUYGoKXm7wsyTswPGmKKOzvI8pZfSVyQvfYQ859dm-63S9F_x7ckFpkV6zt1B_eSkM2PYn3xOQjvdnPls2PXtpXsaoHV3t-VeWKcT9vDgsx4BkG7dC0OTYotPD7Nheiiv8Q9NccFUwVz/s320/P1140192.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
Other than that, I've just been hanging out here, meeting a ton of people, mostly expats, but some Kenyans. Went out for nyama choma last night with Kanyi, a Kenyan from Stanford--so good. Literally, a kilo or two of grilled meat on a platter with ugali and some version of salsa, eaten with your hands. Paired with a cold Tusker or Pilsner--excellent. This place, Njuguna's, I believe it was called was definitely not an expat spot, which was refreshing. The bars and clubs that cater to expats also have a much different vibe than those that have a primarily Kenyan clientele. Both groups however, go hard. I mean, until 4 or 5am regularly. And Kenyans can drink.<br />
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Other fun foods I've tried here in Nairobi for the first time ever were not actually Kenyan, but Ethiopian and Korean bbq. Both good, but only Ethiopian was eaten with the hands. That's basically what's been keeping me busy in Nairobi--people, food, and drinks. I did stop through Kibera, however, to check out Josh's work with Carolina for Kibera. Literally a bike ride away from a nice part of town, this place was heartbreaking to see--all the buildings made of mud and those corrugated tin/aluminum sheets, packed with people, covered with rubbish. But the work that CFK does there is pretty admirable. Also went to Blankets & Wine, a little music festival at Mamba Village the first Sunday of every month. Pretty low key fun.<br />
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Tomorrow, I'm off on another safari--this time, a serious three day, two night lodge stay in Maasai Mara. Then, it's off to the coast for Mombasa, Diani, and Lamu, before I head out to other East African countries for a week or so. Hoping to find people to wander around with, because without all of you back home, it gets pretty lonely sometimes. Maybe on the romantic little island of Lamu I'll pick up some new friends. Ha.<br />
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The pics take too long to upload onto the blog, so check the facebook album if you're curious:<br />
http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.2009843800269.2116318.1068930008&l=70faf85844Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11907875832047377609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7617430187853050083.post-48941681115411737112011-05-30T02:42:00.000-07:002011-05-30T02:42:55.325-07:00New York to Istanbul<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I'm sitting in a little cafe with wifi in the airport in Istanbul right now, sippin on my tiny Turkish coffee, munchin on this amazing $15 salad (balls...should've checked the Turkish exchange rate), and listening to "Don't Go Breakin My Heart" and "Stand By Me" (love). I was expecting something a little more...Turkish, but this is amusing.</span><br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDnpr7nDgHiE_dCGGByFkxERDEyXrLW9GnRcsCm9NT5HxhVYHgCU5eMRWOS3QaAkeXTgZhzUBOm8FSCFwensRbQabd3cHdJqVLpDsd9sDpP_bUjZIXAvOhyphenhyphenzsnrVcAVXlaSMAZRzX20ks3/s1600/IMG_0031.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDnpr7nDgHiE_dCGGByFkxERDEyXrLW9GnRcsCm9NT5HxhVYHgCU5eMRWOS3QaAkeXTgZhzUBOm8FSCFwensRbQabd3cHdJqVLpDsd9sDpP_bUjZIXAvOhyphenhyphenzsnrVcAVXlaSMAZRzX20ks3/s320/IMG_0031.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I should probably start taking cooking classes, but it turned out alright</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuoIGBxkygntH8i-zhtPnesroc8fHpnVaf2eBaSi0vUs7_GscnJpZNxaaGH1bP8AWls2Z2cFhaTn1IFjeLKzZnnFEtIpy-oPnxN-1xWuOp6eJoTBjOLSKF0iRQ0hj5VGjs-VVrREbi42m7/s1600/IMG_0030.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuoIGBxkygntH8i-zhtPnesroc8fHpnVaf2eBaSi0vUs7_GscnJpZNxaaGH1bP8AWls2Z2cFhaTn1IFjeLKzZnnFEtIpy-oPnxN-1xWuOp6eJoTBjOLSKF0iRQ0hj5VGjs-VVrREbi42m7/s320/IMG_0030.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Olive</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I've officially signed the lease on my new apartment. Forgot to take pics, but I'll get some up when I can. The rest of my time in NY was crazy and unreal, as usual. Wandered around Manhattan taking pics of anything and everything that caught my eye (not as many people as I would've liked though, to limit my creeper status), bought some new shoes (Hil, you'd appreciate these 5-inchers), and busted my knee in my clumsiness. One day, I'll be graceful. One day. But don't worry--the bartender at the place we ended up at later that night cleaned it up with 151. Excellent idea. Burned like a sunburned eyeball. Quickly running out of bandaids...I knew I should've brought more. Damn.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Every kind of person is here at this airport--American, French, Turkish, Asian of sorts, backpackers, business men. Kinda wish I could explore Istanbul a bit...but I'd only have three hours or so...and if I missed my flight to Nairobi...well, I guess there are worse things, but it certainly wouldn't be ideal. </span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqCsktF9LOhRkqBARd2e4dUfrywcWisfHycR-w3JxHyELeKGwQB_BJd0wgkIP4fwSpPl_eiK85OSvzzeI6XIUcP5kHo8EaoMgn-WRszEt-wWEVolWX_k7h__3Bzygb5PizAxPybWJQijpz/s1600/IMG_0041.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqCsktF9LOhRkqBARd2e4dUfrywcWisfHycR-w3JxHyELeKGwQB_BJd0wgkIP4fwSpPl_eiK85OSvzzeI6XIUcP5kHo8EaoMgn-WRszEt-wWEVolWX_k7h__3Bzygb5PizAxPybWJQijpz/s320/IMG_0041.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Currently making friends in this little airport joint. Landed myself an invitation to hang out in Turkey. Interesting fella. His parents are from Iran, he was born in Israel, and he now lives in Turkey.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjhGQyFCoyQKk_GftYvB7RrC_9zPMOZe8EsK6gjTRBiKZE_hUSZ-W2RnEjtkVb3LQagpnonQQPC_fIXQu7JbYDj7iLoOcb5wrDa22fkosScZc5q8tbMN-j3NIAFWTUFC-was8lBIyS3yFK/s1600/P1140167.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjhGQyFCoyQKk_GftYvB7RrC_9zPMOZe8EsK6gjTRBiKZE_hUSZ-W2RnEjtkVb3LQagpnonQQPC_fIXQu7JbYDj7iLoOcb5wrDa22fkosScZc5q8tbMN-j3NIAFWTUFC-was8lBIyS3yFK/s320/P1140167.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">tiny Turkish coffee packs a punch</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</tbody></table><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Well, I'm gettin kinda antsy sitting here, so I think I'll go wander around a bit. Maybe one day I'll come back specifically to see Istanbul. Looks gorgeous. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPRHB27jl-ck6NcwJ9W0ZqhrUQKcyzFyyG2DLw1DOq10thuy7tFCDSV9CUDc5uP8dBkDduF4jvEhaPNqe9KTXU3mKH8quqyHuNJUIi9FGJSPzleyKBI6lc-SCRlUahz0qqSOFX5NSClxK7/s1600/IMG_0051.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPRHB27jl-ck6NcwJ9W0ZqhrUQKcyzFyyG2DLw1DOq10thuy7tFCDSV9CUDc5uP8dBkDduF4jvEhaPNqe9KTXU3mKH8quqyHuNJUIi9FGJSPzleyKBI6lc-SCRlUahz0qqSOFX5NSClxK7/s320/IMG_0051.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfbxAlz9i4GoRzYrvH_XIARs-e4gtf8BkgySchSGPRc8w4rdTqKJYkC1nKfrRX2uIK50cU1QUBl9tnvDgU8J5ZqBCukFFyCMVNf79VQxXIz0BSXBUAMoe0DaN7TyxobGwz2H5Ub8aOpxqH/s1600/IMG_0053.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfbxAlz9i4GoRzYrvH_XIARs-e4gtf8BkgySchSGPRc8w4rdTqKJYkC1nKfrRX2uIK50cU1QUBl9tnvDgU8J5ZqBCukFFyCMVNf79VQxXIz0BSXBUAMoe0DaN7TyxobGwz2H5Ub8aOpxqH/s320/IMG_0053.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</span>Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11907875832047377609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7617430187853050083.post-83460326517836298932011-05-27T18:06:00.000-07:002011-05-27T18:06:01.469-07:00Up Nextttt<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">So, I've actually been home for a few weeks, and have had no travels to tell you about...and I've probably seen you in person since I was home for so long, so I'm sure you weren't checking this as often. But now...I'm jetsetting again. A la neyo: jet setter, go getter, nothin better. I'm currently in New York in search of my new home, and I think I've found it: a generously sized hardwood studio...but not just a dinky studio...it's actually big enough to make into a one-bedroom, which I intend to do, obvi. Floors are newly polished, windows let in a ton of light (the view is limited to a parking lot, but it's not Manhattan, so I was kinda stuck), and I get a huge walk-in closet. Excellent. And, it's only 37mins away from Manhattan by train. Super.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-N_XINcDi-gobLtzewKrLUzFVCgxlscnqmw9liSZDHlFJl4XyxpwH51aLy9mYDAEA9BrDDvrSTvboGpVI0jJBUzmTHGrEurbZgOdGj0PiNEF9JI1CF4CokopaXsB5dO73BE9KlkilI1LT/s1600/249290_1988247940386_1068930008_32303237_1919751_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-N_XINcDi-gobLtzewKrLUzFVCgxlscnqmw9liSZDHlFJl4XyxpwH51aLy9mYDAEA9BrDDvrSTvboGpVI0jJBUzmTHGrEurbZgOdGj0PiNEF9JI1CF4CokopaXsB5dO73BE9KlkilI1LT/s320/249290_1988247940386_1068930008_32303237_1919751_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkEXjgg-YUK48WEdUKgCa1S_8kpsQzKM9ioWlxRPuz70AJnbVJftOrslDppl67aoL5w-628S0Vu9UCdfQGU5Tm-iPP1J7ZqqCv1ln7gM5eAnkFSVaXWpAxzUuEOlyaeuCaUYX9aC7ckJ1F/s1600/250599_1988246980362_1068930008_32303224_5077350_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkEXjgg-YUK48WEdUKgCa1S_8kpsQzKM9ioWlxRPuz70AJnbVJftOrslDppl67aoL5w-628S0Vu9UCdfQGU5Tm-iPP1J7ZqqCv1ln7gM5eAnkFSVaXWpAxzUuEOlyaeuCaUYX9aC7ckJ1F/s320/250599_1988246980362_1068930008_32303224_5077350_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQm0LFotIMdYfm4UrxKaXOw6JY535_I2ySrrMhbZEfQ7U1sStGmHyzzz-y37L-yv9y61zfxWpyw5Y0mTGMtL3brvsdcyRlQulvFG5wwx87UsEhBfTJNLrBqtuc1fgGB6UnWe9OOaWds7MZ/s1600/249120_1988247260369_1068930008_32303228_645093_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQm0LFotIMdYfm4UrxKaXOw6JY535_I2ySrrMhbZEfQ7U1sStGmHyzzz-y37L-yv9y61zfxWpyw5Y0mTGMtL3brvsdcyRlQulvFG5wwx87UsEhBfTJNLrBqtuc1fgGB6UnWe9OOaWds7MZ/s320/249120_1988247260369_1068930008_32303228_645093_n.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Spent my last weekend in the bay exploring the Portola Redwoods--pretty incredible. And the drive's not bad, either...just make sure you don't eat too much beforehand if you plan to sit in the backseat. There are some good 12-milers, but we didn't have time for that since we started around 3pm or so. Still plenty of redwood and sunlight. There aren't any steep uphills, so I wouldn't head here for a workout. The banana slugs (yes, they're real animals) are pretty cool finds, though. Definitely worth a look...especially when Half Dome's still unroped. One day, I'll make it back to the bay to do that. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">So tomorrow, I sign the lease to this place and after a night out in NYC with some old friends (some that I've seen recently, and some I haven't seen in years), I'm headed to Kenyaaaa. So excited. It'll be my first time in Africa, and hopefully not my last. Don't have any fixed plans yet (don't freak out) but playing it by ear has sorta worked for me in the past. First, I'll find my homeboy's taxi dude at midnight in the airport...then I'll spend the day getting myself oriented in Nairobi and outfitted with a working Kenyan phone, etc, while homeboy's at work...then apparently we're going out (during which karaoke will be happening. uh oh) because it's a Kenyan holiday the next day. Beyond that...no idea. Roughly on the books for the three and a half weeks: safari (giraffes, hippos, lions, oh yes!), Mombasa, Diani & Tiwi, Lamu (all beach towns, including the latter which is an island that sounds pretty romantic--my fave kinds), and I was thinking of Malindi, but someone tells me people have been stabbed there. Super. Too bad I'm not traveling with a body guard. So, I'll keep you posted, if I have internet! So pumped. Wish you all could come with me!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">xo</span>Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11907875832047377609noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7617430187853050083.post-11973639040235486762011-04-02T17:11:00.000-07:002011-04-02T17:11:34.595-07:00On to the next<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Back home, cozied up in bed, which has been worth every cent. Waking up to the golf course outside the window, driving through the green hills to get home...there are definitely worse places to be stranded with a flat tire.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">The last few days in Guate were rough, trying to wrap things up for the nutrition program, keeping my emotions in check, losing my appetite. Big mess. But I read a lot, talked a lot, drank crazy and mysterious teas. "The Road of Lost Innocence" by Somaly Mam helped me put things in perspective. The true story of this Cambodian woman who was sold multiple times into the sex trade, how she escaped, and how she's helped many others to do the same. Definitely worth the read, however upsetting. Also finished Mandela's autobiography. Another worthwhile, if not chunky, read. Picked out a few lines I particularly liked:</div><ul style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><li>"It was not lack of ability that limited my people, but lack of opportunity."</li>
</ul><ul style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><li>"I always remember the regent's axiom: a leader, he said, is like a shepherd. He stays behind the flock, letting the most nimble go out ahead, whereupon the others follow, not realizing that all along they are being directed from behind." </li>
<li>"...but I have never owned a suit I was prouder to wear than my father's cut-off pants"</li>
<li>"In love, unlike politics, caution is not usually a virtue."</li>
<li>"Without language, one cannot talk to people and understand them; one cannot share their hopes and aspirations, grasp their history, appreciate their poetry, or savor their songs. I again realized that we were not different people with separate languages; we were one people, with different tongues."</li>
</ul>Now, it's on to the next book--not sure what that'll be, but I've started "Hope Deferred: Narratives of Zimbabwean Lives." Maybe I'll pick up a new Dickens too. On to the next...part of my life, post-manfriend and all. And on to the next trip. I'm thinkin Kenya and (fingers crossed) the DRC. I'll keep you posted.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Whoever did this deserves some kind of awful pain.</td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQWal0_L2jZ6YqcQHERHab2ae-zCCoS17rUTBbA1WTNIllhvDpdCD7iXS9dtpLoUbXJc-vWUvhtZmlzKoU4QuUPiq5Nb5R9N5EeOl83Dva1WtDdeVHR4NCHG27AhgEUOWOyKFturpBRl1N/s1600/DSCN4094.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQWal0_L2jZ6YqcQHERHab2ae-zCCoS17rUTBbA1WTNIllhvDpdCD7iXS9dtpLoUbXJc-vWUvhtZmlzKoU4QuUPiq5Nb5R9N5EeOl83Dva1WtDdeVHR4NCHG27AhgEUOWOyKFturpBRl1N/s320/DSCN4094.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11907875832047377609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7617430187853050083.post-59497015120092697332011-03-28T14:24:00.000-07:002011-03-28T14:24:20.674-07:00Witch DoctoredI've now had two experiences with traditional Guatemalan medicine. The first time was a couple years back when I was working in Pueblo Nuevo. One day I was incapacitated by awful cramps. It felt like my insides were twisting themselves into knots. I was supposed to lead a hike that day but I could hardly sit up it hurt so bad...and I'd like to think I have a decently high pain threshold. The woman with whom I was staying used to be a witch doctor, before she became a midwife and married the community pastor. She pulled out this secret pomada of hers--a deep berry red and pasty like Mexican tamarind candy. She had me drink half a cup of tea made from boiled roots and herbs and things I couldn't quite distinguish. Afterward, she rubbed this pomada on my back and stomach while chanting something in Mam--an indigenous Mayan language that other Guatemalans call the "devil's language"--I couldn't understand. Within the hour, I was up on my feet and hiking up to the waterfall. Maybe placebo, maybe not.<br />
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My second encounter was here in San Lucas, just yesterday. My man and I broke things off and I was feeling pretty down about it. I don't like to talk to a bajillion people about my issues, but being a guest here with Angel, everyone noticed. Awesome. I didn't say much about it, because there isn't much to say and I didn't really want to talk about it. It was their opinions about my relationship that led me to say things that ultimately ended it in the first place. For something that was supposed to be the right decision, it felt pretty awful and wrong. Every time it was brought up, I'd nod my head and try to focus on something else, willing the tears that welled up in my eyes to find their way back into my tear ducts. To cure what they called my "enfermedad del corazon, or del amor" they had me drink some kinda crazy tea boiled with orange peels and "gotas de maravillosa," the secret ingredient. I didn't believe for a second that this could possibly affect whatever was happening in my head and heart, but coincidentally enough, I felt...I dunno...better. Ha. Mas tranquila, as they described it. Nonetheless, as appreciative as I am of their concern for the health of my corazon, I'm still looking forward to returning to my apartment where I can take full advantage of being by myself and not having to explain the faces I make or the thoughts I have. So far, Guatemalan with doctor medicine, you win 2 for 2, placebo or not. Might be time for another dose.Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11907875832047377609noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7617430187853050083.post-13695843093942228262011-03-27T09:07:00.000-07:002011-04-14T13:00:30.074-07:00el camino de lagrimas<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">Being back in Guatemala had been...good. It's been great seeing the fam again, being so close to the lake, working with the kids, etc. What's less amusing is the hours of data organization, being attacked by mosquitoes, and regulatin. We have a little over 1600 kids in our nutrition program now, and are in the process of adding two new communities. Things are starting to slip through the cracks...thus the regulatin.</span></span><br />
<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Working here can't really be described as efficient, but the promoters are--I hope--doing their best, given the crying babies we leave in our wake. Most are not fans of the hanging scales...something about being suspended in a diaper-looking swing on what could be a meat hook...I don't blame them. Por eso, el camino de lagrimas.</span></span></span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Working in the communities has also reminded me of how much I hate insects and spiders. The words sancudos and aranas make me wince. Flies, for example, are gross. Is it absolutely necessary that they exist in the food web/chain or can they be eradicated? Just buzzin around, all up in your grill. While I was making my rounds, visiting families with kids suffering from third-degree malnutrition (the worst), flies just swarmed EVERYwhere. It was gross. These visits were even more disheartening than the armies of flies, though. These kids were living, for the most part, in awful conditions. A good majority of them had no shoes (typical) and were covered in layers of dirt, their hair discolored from chronic malnutrition, their eyes too big for their thin faces, tiny bodies. Sometimes, you want to reganar las mandres, but oftent he mothers aren't in much better shape. And to make the situation even better, many of the men are too machista to stop having kids. One family had five kids, three suffering from third degree malnutrition, and one more on the way. Another family has nine kids, with a newborn, three severely malnourished. Sad story. It's pretty humbling to see all those families, though. When we came across a kid who was in the normal range for weight AND height, I almost felt like congratulating the mom...for something that should be the rule, not the exception.</span></span></span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">But ya know, it's not really my place to say who should do what. To each his own. I've heard some interesting perspectives here, though. For example, one woman was telling me that she believes farmers are smarter than students and professors because they make more money and have nice homes. They get paid three times a year from the three different harvests. "The professors don't have homes like theirs." Very interesting. Sex is another interesting topic. I had a conversation with someone about oral sex and porn. This grown woman was talking about how she couldn't believe that her (now ex-) husband had asked her to give him head and proposed anal, etc. I couldn't help but laugh at the way she talked about it. So, imagine her reaction when she saw a porno for the first time. This was some intense stuff sent to a friend of hers by her kids in the states (interesting mother-child relationship, yeah?). I didn't push her for details, but it involved large animals and pregnant women. She also mentioned her appreciation for the black men in the vid. Cracked me up, imagining this group of indigenous Mayan women holed up in a room watching this porno, blushing from both the vid and the quetzalteca. Hilarious.</span></span></span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">picked right off the plant. delish.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiscWNd-b5g2AQ5ab4bA-fddDyOoFhA7KtIcY8FhsxDE3g1ktj8fEoJhQPcGv_bHy_yPtaBG7uI8rt3OzKTwi7Gk524kziQ5ZNKfCd_Rh7UucKQ17xBODKrZ0KXgubhfsiJiAuJuSXDxjTd/s1600/DSCN4088.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiscWNd-b5g2AQ5ab4bA-fddDyOoFhA7KtIcY8FhsxDE3g1ktj8fEoJhQPcGv_bHy_yPtaBG7uI8rt3OzKTwi7Gk524kziQ5ZNKfCd_Rh7UucKQ17xBODKrZ0KXgubhfsiJiAuJuSXDxjTd/s320/DSCN4088.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">trying to grab the bull by its horns. unsuccessful.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFlUWDWiXjUCwmQIfILpeVZB8DKHvJEELuHxLp863114cWeLzmHcrb8UHEUKyNTcrIYStSXzKKp6cAQ6O9Ro8R7hPoj1EBFBt8LkmPGSeSL-I0qu-o7ayOfhD6vhy4gaPwKh2QzSvyJmxK/s1600/DSCN4091.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFlUWDWiXjUCwmQIfILpeVZB8DKHvJEELuHxLp863114cWeLzmHcrb8UHEUKyNTcrIYStSXzKKp6cAQ6O9Ro8R7hPoj1EBFBt8LkmPGSeSL-I0qu-o7ayOfhD6vhy4gaPwKh2QzSvyJmxK/s320/DSCN4091.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">up cerro de oro</span></td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7_u1WP0pZM6blFHjQn5EMuiSwH1cSlYqjxDJnF7Fme7qlqgAWDz7BUoyV6nfOXPCYnY54sbYsOCkvWB0hShSMGu7pf9ehcwBjoSmuRYB7JUGb9TS__euTfjQXB9Iic3jOQ1ev98GHnISL/s1600/DSCN4101.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7_u1WP0pZM6blFHjQn5EMuiSwH1cSlYqjxDJnF7Fme7qlqgAWDz7BUoyV6nfOXPCYnY54sbYsOCkvWB0hShSMGu7pf9ehcwBjoSmuRYB7JUGb9TS__euTfjQXB9Iic3jOQ1ev98GHnISL/s320/DSCN4101.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div>Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11907875832047377609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7617430187853050083.post-22161694750382782122011-01-15T15:46:00.000-08:002011-02-24T14:24:54.038-08:00Chiang Mai Nightlife<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf-nJ8CBy_h7PXItqP1CT7KIJ5vL_jf1ZTso_SPuF0Vq7tSM6vScG7Wr8njXC82Ve9fdURYSOq8Wa_vbm6fAFi3SIglKMCyJsjleOMl6q2tg3Y0YmdxuC0vuqUl6Yky6OaX6lH6cK11g1A/s1600/DSCN0551.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf-nJ8CBy_h7PXItqP1CT7KIJ5vL_jf1ZTso_SPuF0Vq7tSM6vScG7Wr8njXC82Ve9fdURYSOq8Wa_vbm6fAFi3SIglKMCyJsjleOMl6q2tg3Y0YmdxuC0vuqUl6Yky6OaX6lH6cK11g1A/s320/DSCN0551.JPG" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">300-some steps to the top</td></tr>
</tbody></table> <span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">So I ventured out into Chiang Mai after my little tiger adventure, found myself that coffee shop where I tapped out the last post...then made my way up to Wat Suthep, the temple on top of a hill overlooking all of Chiang Mai. The most striking bit about this temple would be the golden chedi, so geometric in design, and the 300-some stairs it takes to get up to the temple. There's an elevator, too, but I've been missing out on way too much cardio so I opted for the stairs...while checking out the inside of the "Buddha Room," I found myself amongst a group just then being blessed by a monk. Splashes of water hit my head and face from the wooden sticks he was using--at the end, he gave me a little bracelet for good luck. Apparently I'm supposed to wear for at least 3, if not 6, days. Neat little memory, so I may just keep it on. Can never have too much luck, right?</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0zaqoCrCK2U4x2QJwXfKXFoUx-dcaUf6_QfVnCDZszXaGFPd8GJq6EjSiosOfphHSSFb47Q3h4bqfJW_y0xl7SjPozIZ_yFbf0R0eKljzrCQIFfNosxgy-1B4YBbDwJ2q3M8viYBIixtT/s1600/DSCN0564.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0zaqoCrCK2U4x2QJwXfKXFoUx-dcaUf6_QfVnCDZszXaGFPd8GJq6EjSiosOfphHSSFb47Q3h4bqfJW_y0xl7SjPozIZ_yFbf0R0eKljzrCQIFfNosxgy-1B4YBbDwJ2q3M8viYBIixtT/s320/DSCN0564.JPG" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">pretty cool guitar</td></tr>
</tbody></table><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFPsMoDpF_9OBQRkLCVNJ1pMJysqFknkGAqkm9VDGNkP2VXU52QHo7uhL1AIK4TdLkMlP0w09wvRpcHFxwsXDBApesEC68XozrebgKJ3A4LfWIFjrUPEfbsCwtlIm-rmR4zUOz3ZngHA2V/s1600/DSCN0556.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFPsMoDpF_9OBQRkLCVNJ1pMJysqFknkGAqkm9VDGNkP2VXU52QHo7uhL1AIK4TdLkMlP0w09wvRpcHFxwsXDBApesEC68XozrebgKJ3A4LfWIFjrUPEfbsCwtlIm-rmR4zUOz3ZngHA2V/s320/DSCN0556.JPG" width="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVqqo1GNY9dKw0LjKDJzBvqefbxSKC5Ydkr3WtrSOrLMYIng7dfuptZ6r93jgk7x1CLG_J4nk0iS20Cl7vs52WAUCSE-zsxEkrlGf6hBGDVbgRTmUfGwD7xdcCWn5IamhNKDcn8x6wUjBz/s1600/DSCN0554.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmC6r2VVryjoCO8NxkctLRcsBfwCljL3QujC4as3IZiFPu0jKG-VtRffitj-vssubB78O4Pn1TU_hZHZv70aLRxh6RohPeVq2OQAvY5x1nB4cxvp94oNWwKazLAnIKA7-V-lE5S6IFd2Pm/s1600/DSCN0565.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmC6r2VVryjoCO8NxkctLRcsBfwCljL3QujC4as3IZiFPu0jKG-VtRffitj-vssubB78O4Pn1TU_hZHZv70aLRxh6RohPeVq2OQAvY5x1nB4cxvp94oNWwKazLAnIKA7-V-lE5S6IFd2Pm/s320/DSCN0565.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Reminded me of Janelle</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="text-align: right;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhObn2VhCYBbtL-BKeUY7VKEAe7t9L-9GFq8N-9WwZXEIWwuIN1iQcK-ppQIOGqnZUpwVtIy5vaDpNsq1qeWCQ68NzlM7ZTfYSxrqy-U95vzdbAoytGn37aofOeRt4nYyuJLMfO4K437fp-/s1600/DSCN0562.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhObn2VhCYBbtL-BKeUY7VKEAe7t9L-9GFq8N-9WwZXEIWwuIN1iQcK-ppQIOGqnZUpwVtIy5vaDpNsq1qeWCQ68NzlM7ZTfYSxrqy-U95vzdbAoytGn37aofOeRt4nYyuJLMfO4K437fp-/s320/DSCN0562.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmC6r2VVryjoCO8NxkctLRcsBfwCljL3QujC4as3IZiFPu0jKG-VtRffitj-vssubB78O4Pn1TU_hZHZv70aLRxh6RohPeVq2OQAvY5x1nB4cxvp94oNWwKazLAnIKA7-V-lE5S6IFd2Pm/s1600/DSCN0565.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVqqo1GNY9dKw0LjKDJzBvqefbxSKC5Ydkr3WtrSOrLMYIng7dfuptZ6r93jgk7x1CLG_J4nk0iS20Cl7vs52WAUCSE-zsxEkrlGf6hBGDVbgRTmUfGwD7xdcCWn5IamhNKDcn8x6wUjBz/s1600/DSCN0554.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVqqo1GNY9dKw0LjKDJzBvqefbxSKC5Ydkr3WtrSOrLMYIng7dfuptZ6r93jgk7x1CLG_J4nk0iS20Cl7vs52WAUCSE-zsxEkrlGf6hBGDVbgRTmUfGwD7xdcCWn5IamhNKDcn8x6wUjBz/s320/DSCN0554.JPG" width="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4DZbRwFZcBL_T4fxgnD0ShLY6QBN97nPUrgJaZ2t64PxYgT3UVM4hxTquMNjN_Cp_12tNjmNDdmkzQucEYRFUSRdtQ2jq19UKPATsKdMTyRQLY3WEiizmSWBwNl-ekLznIiu-cv_2bqbt/s1600/DSCN0570.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4DZbRwFZcBL_T4fxgnD0ShLY6QBN97nPUrgJaZ2t64PxYgT3UVM4hxTquMNjN_Cp_12tNjmNDdmkzQucEYRFUSRdtQ2jq19UKPATsKdMTyRQLY3WEiizmSWBwNl-ekLznIiu-cv_2bqbt/s320/DSCN0570.JPG" width="180" /></a><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Met with a guy from Shan Health Committee, an active NGO working along this border here. Stimulating conversation, once again. I really need to go over my notes--they're getting a little out of control. After my meeting, I decided to check out the Saturday Night Market, on Saturday Walking Street (there's a Sunday one, too). Left my Lonely Planet in the hotel, but didn't feel like grabbing it so I decided to wing it. </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Walked out of my hotel, swung a left, and found myself in the red light district. Tiny bars lined up next to each other with neon signs displaying such classy names as "Juicy," "Cherry Pop," and "Why Not," facing other bars, some with pool tables, disco lights, and scantily clad girls sitting around like "Sassy," "Voom Lounge," and "Pleasure Place," (no--I am not making these up). Pretty funny. (On the way back, these little bars were much rowdier, and I had to mean mug it and speed walk down that stretch because someone said, "Pretty girl like you shouldn't be walking around alone. Do you need boyfriend tonight?" Ew. Gross. Found myself at a Muay Thai Boxing Ring in the middle of this mini city of sin...I couldn't watch for very long because the bloody faces were making me uncomfortable.) </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Anyway, there are these red pickup trucks all over town...I never really know where they're going or if they even have a route, but people seemed to be getting on and off as they pleased. So, after walking several blocks in the general direction of Saturday Walking Street, I crossed into one of the lanes where I saw a red pickup with open seats and hopped in, just as the driver hit the accelerator. Wasn't really sure if I was going the right way, but I figured, worst case, I'll get off and grab a tuk tuk. After a few minutes, we hit an intersection teeming with motorcycles, tuk tuks, and people. This had to be it...and if not, well it was another market that had lots of crafty things and street vendors--all I needed for dinner and "window" shopping. It was pretty cool, </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">but packed. I managed to try enough things from different vendors to make up a decent dinner, and picked up some amusing souvenirs for the homies back home. Next time, I'll have to remember to pack less--I always end up with too much crap.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizZiASwgpmdQcdcEgxasxHKOSGRqrLGkFT9sdfxY0w4kPsrSZWZe3gSb_n9BkqiJ_-CclHWit74EHcS5oZdzE-Ek5KD6VFg642ONG5_w89vADch7rMH0kw0pZRtx1umbOar4Hq4ecuZgnm/s1600/DSCN0520.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizZiASwgpmdQcdcEgxasxHKOSGRqrLGkFT9sdfxY0w4kPsrSZWZe3gSb_n9BkqiJ_-CclHWit74EHcS5oZdzE-Ek5KD6VFg642ONG5_w89vADch7rMH0kw0pZRtx1umbOar4Hq4ecuZgnm/s320/DSCN0520.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxXAqez6xY3JKQSUxt1QkfhSOcfAlUi25YClmv-6Fv341hc88NHPqTtTr1UIvleaSrzOXNtpxSlaCM3ZuVATL9yBASRW1FBV16QuTOF6PFaLgkBZ3ZGU-vjVcfEzDHrNrYPSdzTgP-gBHs/s1600/DSCN0522.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxXAqez6xY3JKQSUxt1QkfhSOcfAlUi25YClmv-6Fv341hc88NHPqTtTr1UIvleaSrzOXNtpxSlaCM3ZuVATL9yBASRW1FBV16QuTOF6PFaLgkBZ3ZGU-vjVcfEzDHrNrYPSdzTgP-gBHs/s320/DSCN0522.JPG" width="180" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Sitting at the Bangkok Airways airport lounge right now-- swanky. The food's not great, but it's for times like these that I have balance bars. The free wifi is appreciated, too. Thailand's been pretty easy in terms of wifi, with plenty of coffee shops and such. I'd love to come back to see more of the country, especially the deep south--the beaches look incredible. Getting on this flight puts me one flight closer to the one eventually landing in SFO. Can't wait.<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> </span>Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11907875832047377609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7617430187853050083.post-157899300392802732011-01-15T00:08:00.000-08:002011-01-15T00:14:07.197-08:00Gettin Adventurous in Chiang Mai<div class="separator" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyd4eChIAxC5BXskGzlhsdtrMf2k7_Kp_b0woVii0vKK2_WbnZhJdCeRh8dzRuhH-t1za9F3gpz1bt64_CYt53RgrnNm28RvfTfrt5ue6No6C64NEOForD8DTrQtksa9EIweMNiMQFeKnT/s320/DSCN0473.JPG" width="180" /></div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLJaNjIrylOzsSlKf_8bhIaM5M0Jho0J8rHDHjVw_DWrUyP28MdLh9BGn6fUoU_RO4mZ520YRaEcn605FQnu_u9LDrNlP8lLC0w18psxqL8EsFykBfGROcPYjYXEVeG37260vO69ktR_58/s1600/DSCN0446.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLJaNjIrylOzsSlKf_8bhIaM5M0Jho0J8rHDHjVw_DWrUyP28MdLh9BGn6fUoU_RO4mZ520YRaEcn605FQnu_u9LDrNlP8lLC0w18psxqL8EsFykBfGROcPYjYXEVeG37260vO69ktR_58/s320/DSCN0446.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">the peds inpatient ward</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidDuGs3nrjVkL616380n0S-EZSCAYp1g8fLwqD_w9GtmlQha8-E47sE-2I0LAVSoquMff1u0DbAJ48hkakrzjPQMXikWwl_yzU7ZVuAL-4x4-euYUbzwHwO6GgGv-7f7-_UXA1MeRqAZR3/s1600/DSCN0450.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidDuGs3nrjVkL616380n0S-EZSCAYp1g8fLwqD_w9GtmlQha8-E47sE-2I0LAVSoquMff1u0DbAJ48hkakrzjPQMXikWwl_yzU7ZVuAL-4x4-euYUbzwHwO6GgGv-7f7-_UXA1MeRqAZR3/s320/DSCN0450.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">vaccine clinic</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</tbody></table><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Chiang Mai is awesome. At first, I was a little intimidated by the big city feel. As soon as I got off the bus (which was thankfully, at the right stop) I had a variety of tuk tuk, motorcycle, and pickup drivers surround me. Still knowing only three words in Thai, and none of them related to transit, I'm surprised I made it to my hotel (which is way less classy and a good deal dingier in person than it was on the website). But it's all good--hot showers and softer beds. Mm, miss me my cushy bed and squishy pillows.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The past couple of days have been relatively productive. I met with a couple people at Thammasat University in Bangkok, which led to several conversations with the international Masters and PhD students, some from Zimbabwe and Burma. They had valuable input regarding the situation in Burma. What's interesting is that the info I got from talking to UNICEF is significantly more optimistic than the info I'm getting from almost everyone working on the Thai border, particularly the NGOs.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">made from fish</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Basically, everyone living on the borders of Burma (ie ethnic minorities) get most, if not all, of their care from sources other than the government. On the Thai border, that involves crossing into Thailand or getting care from mobile clinics--mobile in the sense that they are built to disassemble within minutes when word of military action comes through. These communities will literally run into the forests to hide to avoid becoming victims of gross human rights violations or killed. The Mae Tao clinic is a pretty big hub for Burmese refugees, migrants, and those just crossing in for the day, as well as your average (very dedicated) NGO lot. I got a chance to tour the facility as well as talk to an American PA working there and some of the patients in the peds/newborn depts. It's been incredibly interesting to hear from these different perspectives, but just as frustrating--the ever-present dilemma of seeing unending need meet limited resources--an every day story at MTC. Saw quite a few kids with malaria. Drug resistance to the last remaining antimalarial medication that had not before seen resistance has been seen on the Thai-Cambodia border, and they're beginning to see some on the Burmese border. This makes the situation particularly urgent because if this resistance were to spread, we'd be SOL all over the world and we'd see a surge in malaria deaths. Within the last few days, the WHO has acknowledged this little predicament and convened what they call GPARC (Global Plan for Artesunate Resistant something or other). HIV drugs also pose a big problem. I won't go into details but basically the most effective and cheapest drugs don't get to these patients efficiently because the Thai government has really high import tariffs on drugs and will only buy from China. USAID money only allows for drugs manufactured in the US, and malaria drugs aren't a big priority for US pharmaceutical companies (I know I switched back to malaria, but it's all infectious disease related.) NGOs can get HIV drugs for, on average $2/pill (vs. $14/pill in Thailand) if they go over to Cambodia, but the import restrictions imposed by the Thai government make that difficult. Up on the northern border, Shan refugees aren't recognized by the Thai government and are pushed back into conflict zones in Burma (acting against human rights agreements, but Thailand technically hasn't signed'em). Without legal status in Thailand, and targeted by the Burmese military government, these communities are SOL for life. Frustrating. And that's just scratching the surface.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">In lighter news, I ate real gold while in Mae Sot. Emmie (the Thai Masters student I had with me there) had me try these little yellow sweet things. Yes, that's real gold in the pic. Pretty crazy.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">real gold!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Here in Chiang Mai, I've been keeping pretty busy. Talked to a big NGO here, SWAN, for a couple hours, before checking out the city and finally the Night Bazaar. So overwhelming how many vendors there are...and I'm terrible at bargaining because I always feel too bad. ha. The jewelry and crafty things are neat, and the artwork was absolutely amazing. I suppose the subject matter is pretty typical, but the talent is evident.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I wish I had infinite space in my pack...and cash money...cuz the market's a fun place to bargain hunt.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">amazing talent</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVkNb2IQWlb3edFhSJU7oR09iAYTqVU_IzpStP4kJzHnuJKkDR-WbdOOgZxkfsRVgxdzuA2SMMvmT4_fd6XGpPcpIORYmKsEeB2tmu5EYRLx1Tih5nG-2HNdFkRdLQTCMrsp1jgoimJaOd/s1600/DSCN0469.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVkNb2IQWlb3edFhSJU7oR09iAYTqVU_IzpStP4kJzHnuJKkDR-WbdOOgZxkfsRVgxdzuA2SMMvmT4_fd6XGpPcpIORYmKsEeB2tmu5EYRLx1Tih5nG-2HNdFkRdLQTCMrsp1jgoimJaOd/s320/DSCN0469.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Karen hill tribes </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</tbody></table><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Even better than the market here though, are the tigerssss. I have always wanted to play with tigers and today, I got to get up right next to them. So muscular under all the fuzziness. The big ones liked having their tummy rubbed. The smaller ones (2-4 months) were really playful (except for the sleepyheads). The guy who was driving me around also took me up to see this Karen hill tribe. I almost asked him not to because I had heard about the "Long neck" tourist attraction and it kind of bothers me that people come through like they're zoo animals...then again, I ended up conceding and played the tourist role myself, so I can't start to criticize. It was interesting to see the women with rings around their neck in person, though. They start ringing it up at around age four. Pretty intense stuff.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEithowk4dPjfH9HREx0Q4A8ntzP5cSIbGXFXOe3bAR6Yy-PRhtBEHSX3CaU8hAYt0PejhdeY1CVQTVBPHqk4Yy45VB-qB3AImshudlv-f4EqhZUfjE3KZE0rx3FUY_qINtWlCeZ7t4k4SdS/s1600/DSCN0471.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEithowk4dPjfH9HREx0Q4A8ntzP5cSIbGXFXOe3bAR6Yy-PRhtBEHSX3CaU8hAYt0PejhdeY1CVQTVBPHqk4Yy45VB-qB3AImshudlv-f4EqhZUfjE3KZE0rx3FUY_qINtWlCeZ7t4k4SdS/s320/DSCN0471.JPG" width="180" /></a><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Other than that, haven't done too much. Tried a couple different restaurants. Mango and sweet sticky rice seems to be a popular dessert and the curries are awesome. Nothing unexpected, of course. Gonna check out more of the city, do some work maybe. Hope you like the pics! </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I've .always. wanted to play with tigers</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">they like belly rubs</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">a two-month old</td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqgkE4Zn0VeNyKoWm3bjf4qclz-is4Uw_6BofLFeDyOQOGPQFTbXNpOM6h-DQkCAj7Ud7e0rBopNvkdQBJb46HXjUbIoaGveveXVPudeKQy5DLWrb-NVEESYMxTcUSeVqHaoYg8SttTuaT/s1600/DSCN0532.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqgkE4Zn0VeNyKoWm3bjf4qclz-is4Uw_6BofLFeDyOQOGPQFTbXNpOM6h-DQkCAj7Ud7e0rBopNvkdQBJb46HXjUbIoaGveveXVPudeKQy5DLWrb-NVEESYMxTcUSeVqHaoYg8SttTuaT/s320/DSCN0532.JPG" width="180" /></a></div><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">fell asleep on my lap</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4YCntTbcAfp3aJrijUXF16qiBigry7M7jKgUts08m1O_zpu2Z9TyJjjrK6ANNWMaDMyQeRcwHp_Pz6z3I3vquuJ3EtrWKgWLruH3mkCvksHYeqFsdU06B5iv-u5QkjMmC-EYIcsuVh3Nx/s1600/DSCN0544.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4YCntTbcAfp3aJrijUXF16qiBigry7M7jKgUts08m1O_zpu2Z9TyJjjrK6ANNWMaDMyQeRcwHp_Pz6z3I3vquuJ3EtrWKgWLruH3mkCvksHYeqFsdU06B5iv-u5QkjMmC-EYIcsuVh3Nx/s320/DSCN0544.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">mango and sweet sticky rice</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11907875832047377609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7617430187853050083.post-24984806318640868212011-01-12T06:28:00.000-08:002011-01-12T06:28:02.927-08:00Last Burma Pics<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">January 12, 2011--Baan Tung guesthouse, Mae Sot</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx36_YTaUBQhp0jTbJJOWAuGveRU6fmVTDTpGn9YyyWIo2MdYnmc8O_wzxdQpIe42BfSCMNoJw0Kyvwmmm58W9iDSAlwC1sR7o6CtE1kQSj-7kABs9EPr2ElSYXaEbet7LMlBpz23SSgYX/s1600/DSCN0360.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx36_YTaUBQhp0jTbJJOWAuGveRU6fmVTDTpGn9YyyWIo2MdYnmc8O_wzxdQpIe42BfSCMNoJw0Kyvwmmm58W9iDSAlwC1sR7o6CtE1kQSj-7kABs9EPr2ElSYXaEbet7LMlBpz23SSgYX/s320/DSCN0360.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Plating the Buddha with gold</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6ATlL3DHrqRsfoFQXylUhtj7ysooSY2lop8_uQTbov9oleDwDEozjvGFn99MyGYd_SIHjdWCPXQEmZDz9IxiANJggL7dnJQLKRI5GBZhPyN5TjIAIc9r-cePd5HUM6T096CfQI32CWLMj/s1600/DSCN0356.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6ATlL3DHrqRsfoFQXylUhtj7ysooSY2lop8_uQTbov9oleDwDEozjvGFn99MyGYd_SIHjdWCPXQEmZDz9IxiANJggL7dnJQLKRI5GBZhPyN5TjIAIc9r-cePd5HUM6T096CfQI32CWLMj/s320/DSCN0356.JPG" style="cursor: move;" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bagan</td></tr>
</tbody></table><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBReHkTxwgTGh1-H1se8Hjrr-w9_YfmlRAbcOZ-dm9goxHlP4ZsLfAxrjEE_1PoiQCd2RUdPeHyG35pMS3221z55CSyEeIKrBALZqeEsvL7agLOJ-AVvLX13whE1ystgzHMApyOG07m86m/s1600/DSCN0334.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBReHkTxwgTGh1-H1se8Hjrr-w9_YfmlRAbcOZ-dm9goxHlP4ZsLfAxrjEE_1PoiQCd2RUdPeHyG35pMS3221z55CSyEeIKrBALZqeEsvL7agLOJ-AVvLX13whE1ystgzHMApyOG07m86m/s320/DSCN0334.JPG" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjVFvciExswLlhegcH1fcsU-0IJ9WZlGpcaAp7PhxDr4b0MTBKzMmmOmVEyrnOEa11lACwjydIj7zQtHXjL_kvXyjQi98LkKouprJejzmiuZDAE1WlU5lMPb8NnNZnvdv3h6iaLpTMPHSF/s1600/DSCN0325.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjVFvciExswLlhegcH1fcsU-0IJ9WZlGpcaAp7PhxDr4b0MTBKzMmmOmVEyrnOEa11lACwjydIj7zQtHXjL_kvXyjQi98LkKouprJejzmiuZDAE1WlU5lMPb8NnNZnvdv3h6iaLpTMPHSF/s320/DSCN0325.JPG" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Taking this opportunity to upload a few more pics from Burma, and a few from today in Mae Sot, a border town not necessarily known for being the safest place, but I managed to get a super quick run in without getting shot. I know I had a bunch of things I wanted to say about Burma but I can't remember what they are now. Overall, my impressions are that Yangon is your average big city in a developing country, Mandalay is exactly what you think an old capital might be with a moat surrounding the old palace, Bagan is really cool simply because of how old the temples are (anything that old is exciting to me because I just think about all the history that has passed through there, all the people there before me), Nay Pyi Taw is a ghost town of a new capital (these wide open streets and fancy hotels with no one in sight), and everything in between is rice paddies and families with limited access to health care. People in Burma are very nice and accommodating and their everyday lives don't seem much disturbed by the government, sanctions, or anything like that. But I think the big issue that's not talked about much is the lack of social support that I find so important in the states. If that was missing here, I'd definitely notice, but since it just hasn't been a given in Burma for so many years, it's become normal for most people not to trust the government enough to take extra precautions when they issue an infectious disease outbreak. No one takes them seriously yet they remain in control of everything, even the publications UNICEF makes. My conversations with them were very interesting, but it's probably best not to post it up.</span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiZE8mV2aGLWr42B28OpudnjpIHz8HKsUfV-ol8IqVTnL_uFbi2J2vTMAcRnDGFbRCfY1Dse18THHhwxmoKdFVEDbPvHqp652DwCtCUtCoFjmieibs4ajl7DkckEp6osOFGoXIJhgGvS2X/s1600/DSCN0362.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiZE8mV2aGLWr42B28OpudnjpIHz8HKsUfV-ol8IqVTnL_uFbi2J2vTMAcRnDGFbRCfY1Dse18THHhwxmoKdFVEDbPvHqp652DwCtCUtCoFjmieibs4ajl7DkckEp6osOFGoXIJhgGvS2X/s320/DSCN0362.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From far away, Buddha smiles...</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> I'm not sure </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">what I think about Burma. It's a complex country--both beautiful and painful to see. People like to say that the government is everywhere, you just don't see them, because informants are planted everywhere. We only had one minor run-in with the popo, on our overnight bus ride back to Yangon from Bagan. The police asked why our last name was "Kyaw" if we had American passports. I referred them to my dead grandparents. Dunno how much they appreciated that. Ha.</span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOFLlUTm3Qa43ZTs8alrgKIMNYWAmKDuyXo4RzbW5AsThRvGc_8TQV_LnAPgebI8D-3T0QQ75FOVZf9F7HNbLoFSWQn5gyxow4T8A-hT6orm6NG3pZ1WqGh0WHGmRv_sVvvQiYkA54eF41/s1600/DSCN0363.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOFLlUTm3Qa43ZTs8alrgKIMNYWAmKDuyXo4RzbW5AsThRvGc_8TQV_LnAPgebI8D-3T0QQ75FOVZf9F7HNbLoFSWQn5gyxow4T8A-hT6orm6NG3pZ1WqGh0WHGmRv_sVvvQiYkA54eF41/s320/DSCN0363.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">but up close, he ain't so happy</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Anyway, I could go on about the dynamic between different ethnic groups in Burma and all the things that fascinate me about the health situation in places like this, but I don't want to bore you. Maybe as I explore the topic further here in Thailand, I'll have more to say...but we'll see. If I make it to a beach, I might just end up talking about that. Save the academic stuff for my boss...unless of course, I have nothing else exciting to write about, or you're actually interested. For now, I'll stick to my clumsy adventures and traveling mishaps. This guesthouse hasn't been too bad a pick so far...although the shower is the entire bathroom and the water is icy cold...Once I get to Chiang Mai, things could get worse...but we'll see. One of the faculty at AIT/Thammasat University in Bangkok has promised to take me to a dude who gives an excellent Thai massage when I get back to the city...I can do a few more cold showers, looking forward to that. I miss all my besties. Looking forward to seeing your faces soon.</span><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK0LV2-reqnEcn-pdSc1-DR3h-CgdmZAGcKI7AW8JkDAlvPEEb3UbMTdkYwxl5b7HSXwY7XeTflupQU18PcQRx2ffKRBKiCyxvMIVBQYDNKw8XmOgXjk4MIWqvmgJSpnke336f3qjTPvtm/s1600/DSCN0364.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK0LV2-reqnEcn-pdSc1-DR3h-CgdmZAGcKI7AW8JkDAlvPEEb3UbMTdkYwxl5b7HSXwY7XeTflupQU18PcQRx2ffKRBKiCyxvMIVBQYDNKw8XmOgXjk4MIWqvmgJSpnke336f3qjTPvtm/s320/DSCN0364.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Again, but with a difft statue, smiling from afar...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiknMaH_0h9g95Yjv8duqr8DSBzcuja7fUdZp7PO6STO1cG9ek7tswtsTwqJ0VV5U1Bleg4PSBbOhp6vhrCt4E8Rum7qdlvY3w5_0mZJpIZVMalAzEDvAFqM-_sj26FD_pugOd9INvunp17/s1600/DSCN0365.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiknMaH_0h9g95Yjv8duqr8DSBzcuja7fUdZp7PO6STO1cG9ek7tswtsTwqJ0VV5U1Bleg4PSBbOhp6vhrCt4E8Rum7qdlvY3w5_0mZJpIZVMalAzEDvAFqM-_sj26FD_pugOd9INvunp17/s320/DSCN0365.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">so serious up close</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoGHp8q1jkmCHowB7JnwK0Fp9bluC_icej3mk5LI9HwWb0eKUebPxuOZglSUxos7EDlOQ5zbvTdqRP2AD1BZVz4uyh_MI9yXlhqXSiCRnBphSw84pXUeOxJI_NQXeotx6HeN0NIQbByZZ7/s1600/DSCN0369.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoGHp8q1jkmCHowB7JnwK0Fp9bluC_icej3mk5LI9HwWb0eKUebPxuOZglSUxos7EDlOQ5zbvTdqRP2AD1BZVz4uyh_MI9yXlhqXSiCRnBphSw84pXUeOxJI_NQXeotx6HeN0NIQbByZZ7/s320/DSCN0369.JPG" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Forgot what this paya was called, but it was on a cliff of sorts</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFf9CHp4SdropJImt8-FZ0HU0vTpG2WcP-UmIU2Y4_k2k_Sytkapz6G-RUMDRuS1txf8FNb0GJN3gK0harhMUUZAbVv6ld_ZS6y-P6wKc1HxAj5-PbDV5p3jUKDaETfBG5Cxgnh0pzdhX8/s1600/DSCN0370.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFf9CHp4SdropJImt8-FZ0HU0vTpG2WcP-UmIU2Y4_k2k_Sytkapz6G-RUMDRuS1txf8FNb0GJN3gK0harhMUUZAbVv6ld_ZS6y-P6wKc1HxAj5-PbDV5p3jUKDaETfBG5Cxgnh0pzdhX8/s320/DSCN0370.JPG" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Asian Humpty Dumpty</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh096s9riIa5h8nXQ6jlM3v_9j82WyaTv-BkuT8mO2hZR5iYRe8UKNRLcUc7grcpCnB_M6dMxN-Ny_QnmxbYm-x_G3BnAlKdOnHGaHWo4-MVBkwDf2X4Sm1ouAAYx-3PiP3dV8HPRgnEkjA/s1600/DSCN0374.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh096s9riIa5h8nXQ6jlM3v_9j82WyaTv-BkuT8mO2hZR5iYRe8UKNRLcUc7grcpCnB_M6dMxN-Ny_QnmxbYm-x_G3BnAlKdOnHGaHWo4-MVBkwDf2X4Sm1ouAAYx-3PiP3dV8HPRgnEkjA/s320/DSCN0374.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I call this Big Man Buddha. This is his fingernail. The story behind this pagoda is that one of the kings of one of the many Burmese ethnic groups was captured by someone (I'm terrible at remembering details). To symbolize his feeling of imprisonment, he built this paya, making the buddha extra huge and the pagoda just big enough to enclose the statue. You can only walk single file, and just barely, between the statue and the walls of the paya.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-Uav92LixKwc8ZC3RgBV5_WkTEzw_BHBVSk1UIkMC6qOwPYSn1quEJwnoAMtlvUzm1LzHycebn85jc-Yor2twal5gCkE93rn3qGR-m6O3BYu6qiNOxMXyVE1c37PkB_Q1CpxHDLdjZZzk/s1600/DSCN0385.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-Uav92LixKwc8ZC3RgBV5_WkTEzw_BHBVSk1UIkMC6qOwPYSn1quEJwnoAMtlvUzm1LzHycebn85jc-Yor2twal5gCkE93rn3qGR-m6O3BYu6qiNOxMXyVE1c37PkB_Q1CpxHDLdjZZzk/s320/DSCN0385.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">more Bagan, from the top of one of the temples I climbed</td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoqQPj-CNmrlxmo1X49ruSifE2ovYU2OZJAS4ux8hJ2mlKegLztHyYxYyXjv7T4tCQ8WmASNnibOEtd3yXD9FOPnAqlKPEYdSTuzk54il69j80uk1M73qtbUBSNwsqoJcohy0tW7KpytWd/s1600/DSCN0387.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoqQPj-CNmrlxmo1X49ruSifE2ovYU2OZJAS4ux8hJ2mlKegLztHyYxYyXjv7T4tCQ8WmASNnibOEtd3yXD9FOPnAqlKPEYdSTuzk54il69j80uk1M73qtbUBSNwsqoJcohy0tW7KpytWd/s320/DSCN0387.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxd7IuwiEyBxpdRVJ7gAiFytKMawgZuWrmc97ak-6WAX23ciDOdFhh-oBnMQkCpOd4onggk36a12LYycBbOzUEhs7DKGkOYNkx0EIDrrwllCxzwkvkX6gYaUdtURQyiw3-3L7IeN-GTMDA/s1600/DSCN0393.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxd7IuwiEyBxpdRVJ7gAiFytKMawgZuWrmc97ak-6WAX23ciDOdFhh-oBnMQkCpOd4onggk36a12LYycBbOzUEhs7DKGkOYNkx0EIDrrwllCxzwkvkX6gYaUdtURQyiw3-3L7IeN-GTMDA/s320/DSCN0393.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At the top of a temple. Note Dad's death grip because he has this paranoia about me falling off tall buildings</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKx1YJlPTqBK66PbTAmdeGLUKJ1CIxf3PSD6Isltv123WuM6b3wnn_Nk4D_dxES81qiF57vooguOD84vFXFyPN18Vp_31NfOoiAQ0wJ0GurO1RxfSkhXMWgylJZ5SxTl3u0Pm_JiicmLUB/s1600/DSCN0394.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKx1YJlPTqBK66PbTAmdeGLUKJ1CIxf3PSD6Isltv123WuM6b3wnn_Nk4D_dxES81qiF57vooguOD84vFXFyPN18Vp_31NfOoiAQ0wJ0GurO1RxfSkhXMWgylJZ5SxTl3u0Pm_JiicmLUB/s320/DSCN0394.JPG" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">top of the temple</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTzD6fPlHRAuM621IW4dU13ZqGtQgQH2vFWp2q_KE02eZiYmgVu0GW4dNeZVnk1soF9Tsrnlz6uydRp1BhKsDRe3h8HmtNK3PSkcLI_b72G464JNhfKSkJYazCzMllEAfOTdcf69hLJxBX/s1600/DSCN0399.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTzD6fPlHRAuM621IW4dU13ZqGtQgQH2vFWp2q_KE02eZiYmgVu0GW4dNeZVnk1soF9Tsrnlz6uydRp1BhKsDRe3h8HmtNK3PSkcLI_b72G464JNhfKSkJYazCzMllEAfOTdcf69hLJxBX/s320/DSCN0399.JPG" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">gave this kid 2000kyats because his drawings of Bagan were so cute. I didn't actually take them though, because I didn't know what I'd do with them. ha</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFtlVrYhUivgtXXrDOlAC8DfkXzckm7LxT87x2q5CPEY8dP1kDJNVf67F-Ak2mx4rzeOqcaCewRUWJjVrAOnjNcB6BbRgWcP5PkXLZmyVVQ5zCuH7Sq5IKhvnnH4gBnl0BUykakUsB9TLu/s1600/DSCN0404.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFtlVrYhUivgtXXrDOlAC8DfkXzckm7LxT87x2q5CPEY8dP1kDJNVf67F-Ak2mx4rzeOqcaCewRUWJjVrAOnjNcB6BbRgWcP5PkXLZmyVVQ5zCuH7Sq5IKhvnnH4gBnl0BUykakUsB9TLu/s320/DSCN0404.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shwedagon from Traders Hotel (thank god we finally checked in there. When we had gotten ourselves settled Dad said, "We should've stayed here from the beginning, huh?" Umm. Yes. That's why I made the reservations you so quickly canceled. Ha.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOyoPhAAbRa43TAhnyNOqXz4LUERAdP4PV4UgB_UnbW-_1keLub2X3BqZiZMa0V8rsZ3rmC04QWdRfIIWn2BXlpeSAFIXihLWTvgSuGpXgvJJiMvUAD4u2AeiuPuwaqNvo1Ac_U9wO9uKs/s1600/DSCN0405.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOyoPhAAbRa43TAhnyNOqXz4LUERAdP4PV4UgB_UnbW-_1keLub2X3BqZiZMa0V8rsZ3rmC04QWdRfIIWn2BXlpeSAFIXihLWTvgSuGpXgvJJiMvUAD4u2AeiuPuwaqNvo1Ac_U9wO9uKs/s320/DSCN0405.JPG" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of Buddha's hairs is somewhere up in there</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe2Sb5xdZ4POFs7Xg0KkuQmtTvRSq07bAmnkYB3hWBXMq3YTFAcPBNboQK7wSOFBYJLcuG464tXoEOK9iVYA4KbMYcPzRyOWAKkLJVZ9goUkHaUwyF1PFEkBq__9_qlpOTroAVlry8q-ot/s1600/DSCN0410.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe2Sb5xdZ4POFs7Xg0KkuQmtTvRSq07bAmnkYB3hWBXMq3YTFAcPBNboQK7wSOFBYJLcuG464tXoEOK9iVYA4KbMYcPzRyOWAKkLJVZ9goUkHaUwyF1PFEkBq__9_qlpOTroAVlry8q-ot/s320/DSCN0410.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Turtles!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwQW36S5zIc0Pa69gEv8dOJsybDJJpE9KXbNJ3f6DBS65gv3OHC9uH34G3heesla7XY7QJwZ3U6BRfEDUc4lqkza-vVEQXCoyJOQlMdcAoHd7ahy4yQ_eeS0ArIgvRuFo9UbIxtZhonqas/s1600/DSCN0415.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwQW36S5zIc0Pa69gEv8dOJsybDJJpE9KXbNJ3f6DBS65gv3OHC9uH34G3heesla7XY7QJwZ3U6BRfEDUc4lqkza-vVEQXCoyJOQlMdcAoHd7ahy4yQ_eeS0ArIgvRuFo9UbIxtZhonqas/s320/DSCN0415.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Giving one of the trapped birds its freedom</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWA4bKQfcL4babpSQ1uqhVxPf_6oKJqZKPBUFuvBZkVrGMq0Uhd-3Xx_44dQnZv-OTaxpGCXezHIngaFDPb9EkNelcruJp97Xz-6EcXr7G3hYvWyYXWPDC1Dns2abcgeLz6nggtDqxfEyM/s1600/DSCN0423.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWA4bKQfcL4babpSQ1uqhVxPf_6oKJqZKPBUFuvBZkVrGMq0Uhd-3Xx_44dQnZv-OTaxpGCXezHIngaFDPb9EkNelcruJp97Xz-6EcXr7G3hYvWyYXWPDC1Dns2abcgeLz6nggtDqxfEyM/s320/DSCN0423.JPG" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">in the maternity ward of the hospital where my Dad practiced, and where my cousin (now a big timing OBGYN doc who has a TV show) was born</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjjA77Ltk18FX04clhGUeQOcE_RVYv81zo2WrKsZiCBPGAiVviVA6cX9rmu8Cp1XUbs8X2nDlS6O_cW4ov76hASfcV08K6YQz4RnOQIOJTaxoQAWPFmu2g-e0Ld-AykZRKx1_RVLeHHOxE/s1600/DSCN0424.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjjA77Ltk18FX04clhGUeQOcE_RVYv81zo2WrKsZiCBPGAiVviVA6cX9rmu8Cp1XUbs8X2nDlS6O_cW4ov76hASfcV08K6YQz4RnOQIOJTaxoQAWPFmu2g-e0Ld-AykZRKx1_RVLeHHOxE/s320/DSCN0424.JPG" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm a sucker for little babies. Just look at this poor baby</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmxpGQW2OBJgY-tf_MMLRtKALVt9svPu8OaElnIankBOegiaDgjbFWjDaSr1ly_YqQ5JLaHJbhPbm-0T2lQmP8Pgs4k9kcNQvCBuLHPlCljcSR-m-bNjqoVmQR51r-HF-e_CT6jrNGym7V/s1600/DSCN0426.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmxpGQW2OBJgY-tf_MMLRtKALVt9svPu8OaElnIankBOegiaDgjbFWjDaSr1ly_YqQ5JLaHJbhPbm-0T2lQmP8Pgs4k9kcNQvCBuLHPlCljcSR-m-bNjqoVmQR51r-HF-e_CT6jrNGym7V/s320/DSCN0426.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A typical meal spread</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHv3XlTskhCf9uMsyrFdVNWEOWGqccsUTcj_7d7n4XnPbBrzi0LdDQGKyYeiaipClTf7keTbvwVYgx5cIyPgWJDlBWIQ4kO3NU8S3g_S1gQb-m3fxxwTu1-Bm4I2rMv0IZOE6F7XHsaNbJ/s1600/DSCN0428.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHv3XlTskhCf9uMsyrFdVNWEOWGqccsUTcj_7d7n4XnPbBrzi0LdDQGKyYeiaipClTf7keTbvwVYgx5cIyPgWJDlBWIQ4kO3NU8S3g_S1gQb-m3fxxwTu1-Bm4I2rMv0IZOE6F7XHsaNbJ/s320/DSCN0428.JPG" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Met my maternal great aunt for the first time. She was the cutest, sweetest old lady I have ever talked to.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRvRpJuc0RBX4S6ChtRZaEhTykW2KtwMi6wO3bk8icphO3DLp1Yr-yQ-TJ11k-ka4s7-0b1IVKqh9p27RaKC1BqSF4Mw3ZlLT0icQ2x385mITSwPsdj7hYvf4ajH0j97xZPy7lD-wsmrNl/s1600/DSCN0441.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRvRpJuc0RBX4S6ChtRZaEhTykW2KtwMi6wO3bk8icphO3DLp1Yr-yQ-TJ11k-ka4s7-0b1IVKqh9p27RaKC1BqSF4Mw3ZlLT0icQ2x385mITSwPsdj7hYvf4ajH0j97xZPy7lD-wsmrNl/s320/DSCN0441.JPG" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Feeding the huge catfish at the island pagoda</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtGekLh4kTayHv5tZZrDDDt053fiHNtDAbD99brhTT8O4mpuu8BJo1iYyNog2TLjkSwdNFHamVUwouBjRybIAHL3uJI2G50bH5R4BzAY3truExNwzLcrmzM5MBxBtCsPMJ_nIKun-en_8z/s1600/DSCN0444.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtGekLh4kTayHv5tZZrDDDt053fiHNtDAbD99brhTT8O4mpuu8BJo1iYyNog2TLjkSwdNFHamVUwouBjRybIAHL3uJI2G50bH5R4BzAY3truExNwzLcrmzM5MBxBtCsPMJ_nIKun-en_8z/s320/DSCN0444.JPG" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This little girl in Mae Sot waved and blew me a kiss before throwing a pebble at a passing dog. Adorbs.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSE0UHUPUkwvkPT0g_g_1IAFD5VENJkrRp9q27JTjQup4EfoQbHV5Wduoc62bRbPs42O2OY2mBhyphenhyphenG90FHzF29DXK6U_H1gSnsiOhrlEq3Ym74wVU-ib2RoQL1xQ2lVcE8xJNaVRq8nGByp/s1600/DSCN0445.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSE0UHUPUkwvkPT0g_g_1IAFD5VENJkrRp9q27JTjQup4EfoQbHV5Wduoc62bRbPs42O2OY2mBhyphenhyphenG90FHzF29DXK6U_H1gSnsiOhrlEq3Ym74wVU-ib2RoQL1xQ2lVcE8xJNaVRq8nGByp/s320/DSCN0445.JPG" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A fam I interviewed at the Mae Tao clinic. They do really good work there and are looking for volunteers, both medically and non-medically trained.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM9hrgHyb3pQv5BC_MhlnjUCyDy8raBs2cEK_CpFP3GHcFOdZiOG_uMTusOjmf2kH8KBYA1svrZB-HDsETY-I2TvaBILszYZ-wKzc_wdBxenZk9fiMr3YoXjKGmEYsGpZ30ggNJCQdUQUo/s1600/DSCN0452.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM9hrgHyb3pQv5BC_MhlnjUCyDy8raBs2cEK_CpFP3GHcFOdZiOG_uMTusOjmf2kH8KBYA1svrZB-HDsETY-I2TvaBILszYZ-wKzc_wdBxenZk9fiMr3YoXjKGmEYsGpZ30ggNJCQdUQUo/s320/DSCN0452.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At the Burmese-Thai border. I've been told to be careful when crossing the border because Burmese child soldiers will often shoot at unfamiliar individuals. The "Friendship Bridge" that connects the two sides was closed today though.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg1OPqQKO1W1b5yeYRFoUB9J_H450bGuXvGyK7ROPGAcxKjH8DpigtGcsFKNXNaNBRgDR6zCVPGBlCsHAJ4Wu4qfLPzcjBSV5PDrvVSMUCqIc7cUUUnEtMRUzHawclD2wk6APtwfgRjums/s1600/DSCN0453.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg1OPqQKO1W1b5yeYRFoUB9J_H450bGuXvGyK7ROPGAcxKjH8DpigtGcsFKNXNaNBRgDR6zCVPGBlCsHAJ4Wu4qfLPzcjBSV5PDrvVSMUCqIc7cUUUnEtMRUzHawclD2wk6APtwfgRjums/s320/DSCN0453.JPG" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Thai student I kidnapped to help me translate in Mae Sot caught me awkwardly climbing down the steps with all my crap. Turns out almost everyone in the clinic spoke Burmese, with the few that also spoke English. So I ended up understanding more than she did, but having company is (almost) always appreciated.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDaH0tPbIcUSkt8Y85WMplb1xc0Ez9rqBwmrnYU4FNsXmBthLLa0qI4uIB0ZLCV_HKjEOhVfRsCw6R8Cnu07Z6gGb3PG1abr7P46WjS1LZ01aipL_j2ebsX7jYnKPuedKW2m2-a-leGUzX/s1600/DSCN0456.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDaH0tPbIcUSkt8Y85WMplb1xc0Ez9rqBwmrnYU4FNsXmBthLLa0qI4uIB0ZLCV_HKjEOhVfRsCw6R8Cnu07Z6gGb3PG1abr7P46WjS1LZ01aipL_j2ebsX7jYnKPuedKW2m2-a-leGUzX/s320/DSCN0456.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Twins! at MTC. Just born yesterday to the migrant Burmese mother</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIPiUWEE52LMRrDvoZfilEDdILZ6KQBAke_Ri_rdfloChGvpV-xrs5Ulm8gBgPX2s9_toy7X__dIsSIPNrfRfAfZfa3ah4CmAt5iJh9twEDkRVjkTMuiPoTd_uq4YEqJi-Tb0zlfOHEAh1/s1600/DSCN0457.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIPiUWEE52LMRrDvoZfilEDdILZ6KQBAke_Ri_rdfloChGvpV-xrs5Ulm8gBgPX2s9_toy7X__dIsSIPNrfRfAfZfa3ah4CmAt5iJh9twEDkRVjkTMuiPoTd_uq4YEqJi-Tb0zlfOHEAh1/s320/DSCN0457.JPG" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This dude, poor guy, had his arm blasted off by a nearby landmine on the Burmese border. MTC has a prosthetics workshop where they make on average, 25 limbs a month for victims of either landmine injuries or congenital defects.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</tbody></table><span id="goog_1663867996"></span><span id="goog_1663867997"></span>Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11907875832047377609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7617430187853050083.post-65015006066905493092011-01-12T03:11:00.000-08:002011-01-12T03:11:26.181-08:00Peace, Burma<div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLm4XqvqLU9rV5pUX9jj44pzHqli4v_xqIPEMbnfPr0PwrG8pPxoo1ljI92Z_vwORkuq3q5dho7UUYMpX_cE2GlRz2Js5h4CN3Y60IfFFPmRq-P9bNRfOMqPlatTFvfmE86P0DB5u0rVQq/s1600/309.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLm4XqvqLU9rV5pUX9jj44pzHqli4v_xqIPEMbnfPr0PwrG8pPxoo1ljI92Z_vwORkuq3q5dho7UUYMpX_cE2GlRz2Js5h4CN3Y60IfFFPmRq-P9bNRfOMqPlatTFvfmE86P0DB5u0rVQq/s320/309.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> January 11-12, 2011--Bangkok, Mae Sot (border)</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">1.11.11</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The Burmese, being a superstitious people, tell me this'll be my lucky year with all those ones in my birthday. I have to admit though, spending it alone in a foreign country where I don't speak the language was a little underwhelming. Your virtual bday love was thus much appreciated--texts, emails (with and without adorable pics), etc. I'll get back at ya when I'm in the states.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW2jxaQop_AmhJr4pJzFESPk_WNUHe9hCFbhpDYPCxUn7Uvp9VQbMIbQ2WzwJkXeJw1Akto-SfccmY538UnPDBB1J-c81TTh-V2exvkNxf7dW5havtP97CCHXkxmTA8NLgAFetskURd-_b/s1600/DSCN0115.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW2jxaQop_AmhJr4pJzFESPk_WNUHe9hCFbhpDYPCxUn7Uvp9VQbMIbQ2WzwJkXeJw1Akto-SfccmY538UnPDBB1J-c81TTh-V2exvkNxf7dW5havtP97CCHXkxmTA8NLgAFetskURd-_b/s320/DSCN0115.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">This trip has been an interesting peek into my...heritage, for lack of a better word. Seeing all the places where my parents used to kick it, meeting relatives I didn't know I had. My parents' date spot was super romantic--right by Kandawgyi Lake, complete with shady tree, lily pads, and a view of Shwedagon and the floating restaurant.</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM5707n4CBTKnjgSU2fq8UYGzfD0sv8qhoXoxnvyFpHE7qaBlrrf_HiTfStt0oT5Isp1nhUqMKTNZK_VWij262PMntfpAOHmHdfdaPSJEIrPbseMjBkOclAN5SycwLW6fC1Y1XO6tbHCaq/s1600/DSCN0189.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM5707n4CBTKnjgSU2fq8UYGzfD0sv8qhoXoxnvyFpHE7qaBlrrf_HiTfStt0oT5Isp1nhUqMKTNZK_VWij262PMntfpAOHmHdfdaPSJEIrPbseMjBkOclAN5SycwLW6fC1Y1XO6tbHCaq/s320/DSCN0189.JPG" width="320" /></a>From an analytical (but not technical) perspective, Burma to me, is like an onion. In trying to get at the heart of what's going on with health care, the government, and the people, I've found that there are several layers to unfold and that each one gets not only closer to the heart of the issues, but also a little more complicated and at times, disturbing, to see (thus, the tears).</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5u1QrS11No0tFb0rpNdofD1mfzCO-SzEnQwVfYspqKXewy8R_xZW43-wA5ib0EkAMa12DZCrNRdasA32p3BGuXlzkB39VBXnf_nDqshpqehOEOoT2loHxOoXcviRIFOl88EsDMzRuDVuE/s1600/DSCN0193.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5u1QrS11No0tFb0rpNdofD1mfzCO-SzEnQwVfYspqKXewy8R_xZW43-wA5ib0EkAMa12DZCrNRdasA32p3BGuXlzkB39VBXnf_nDqshpqehOEOoT2loHxOoXcviRIFOl88EsDMzRuDVuE/s320/DSCN0193.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1v4_5IqlijeKMGgXm22xPKNNby2eMHZYIWvKPGggf4i3-zhPPvw-GfMhyxSGENzHbpebefDLUEALjfe5EL6evcz3YNXN6JN0omPwIjRUh_IGzEgmTwS-sWjomyiuhrMQxi3yrZeCKUZuU/s1600/DSCN0195.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1v4_5IqlijeKMGgXm22xPKNNby2eMHZYIWvKPGggf4i3-zhPPvw-GfMhyxSGENzHbpebefDLUEALjfe5EL6evcz3YNXN6JN0omPwIjRUh_IGzEgmTwS-sWjomyiuhrMQxi3yrZeCKUZuU/s320/DSCN0195.JPG" width="320" /></a>I talked to family members from Yangon, villagers en route to Mandalay, and people from UNICEF, getting a slightly different perspective from each. Everyone seemed to be more optimistic than the situation calls for, and although some were more candid than others, everyone seemed to display some restraint in what they were willing to say aloud. After talking to people here in Thailand, I'm not surprised given that most people believe 3/4 Burmese people are government informants. My Thai contacts have been a lot more pessimistic, or perhaps, realistic in their descriptions of the health situation, particularly on the border. But more about that later...For now, I'm going to give you my top fives from Burma.<br />
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<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM5707n4CBTKnjgSU2fq8UYGzfD0sv8qhoXoxnvyFpHE7qaBlrrf_HiTfStt0oT5Isp1nhUqMKTNZK_VWij262PMntfpAOHmHdfdaPSJEIrPbseMjBkOclAN5SycwLW6fC1Y1XO6tbHCaq/s1600/DSCN0189.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilv1cWxkQI-MH-RlbdDTAQnXtcyQyHdAg9r42MV92LCvuLzSk3V6DKmGYukc55n_X7zZEewcsByMusR1RwoiAIqGuqit-blJUm6Euz5Ggt3D9MxnibMFCuCNin9mEKo5eteILCXudUTk3G/s1600/DSCN0252.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilv1cWxkQI-MH-RlbdDTAQnXtcyQyHdAg9r42MV92LCvuLzSk3V6DKmGYukc55n_X7zZEewcsByMusR1RwoiAIqGuqit-blJUm6Euz5Ggt3D9MxnibMFCuCNin9mEKo5eteILCXudUTk3G/s320/DSCN0252.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">this pagoda had some 7,000 mini-temples</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Five things I learned from Burma:</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">1. "Pole Star Fashions" doesn't necessarily imply anything scandalous befitting pole stars.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipGcGBsDBF5i7r4Yk6cSDz13qVtNcoOO67Fsk4yhraYzWKoMNemCa6Tou6ffkCddg2DI5c3iEXtq-BxaGuVKfLUdp6PVb7xcNlC0AQuryEviCFoeteJKRe1NzVxxVWoO5AYaOymfSJJ6JS/s1600/DSCN0291.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipGcGBsDBF5i7r4Yk6cSDz13qVtNcoOO67Fsk4yhraYzWKoMNemCa6Tou6ffkCddg2DI5c3iEXtq-BxaGuVKfLUdp6PVb7xcNlC0AQuryEviCFoeteJKRe1NzVxxVWoO5AYaOymfSJJ6JS/s320/DSCN0291.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">2. A motorcycle is an awesome, rather romantic way to check out the scene. Less so, of course, if you're hanging onto your dad's cousin instead of your man (or woman or whatever), but I'd recommend it anyway.</div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbnGuo62E7fn0FNSURDhedIQ-4Y5wOejepjUrTN5Y7yZVc7J8dGRLkvDsBDVbBDzOznpUN7xhre5TEK0lEAm4gEG8MJFANyBzwuqf86vkRqO-ZAG6yUC4Vc_FP9WT06F-QNpcUfHhNozV_/s1600/DSCN0285.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbnGuo62E7fn0FNSURDhedIQ-4Y5wOejepjUrTN5Y7yZVc7J8dGRLkvDsBDVbBDzOznpUN7xhre5TEK0lEAm4gEG8MJFANyBzwuqf86vkRqO-ZAG6yUC4Vc_FP9WT06F-QNpcUfHhNozV_/s320/DSCN0285.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">so good, so spicy</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">3. Trying new, mysterious food can be fun, but avoid biting into a big chunk of something with chili without first having something readily available to tame the ensuing fire in your mouth. (Apparently, fresh lime juice with sugar works great.)</div><div style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhBERxUYyGPN7Fjh3aYK4-dhPoaiUorWFXKCtDnDtU9UhfVe13Ar4moxgZGVZkmsHNbSg39YWyCDckwOT79PUeJdNeBTEVGtCj4OnJriWFpqWjdNNwaAY7eYc6OXv84YmdS13eWpikBTUj/s1600/DSCN0220.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhBERxUYyGPN7Fjh3aYK4-dhPoaiUorWFXKCtDnDtU9UhfVe13Ar4moxgZGVZkmsHNbSg39YWyCDckwOT79PUeJdNeBTEVGtCj4OnJriWFpqWjdNNwaAY7eYc6OXv84YmdS13eWpikBTUj/s320/DSCN0220.JPG" width="180" /></a></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq799AxEebE8ECotM9Kht8pjJBjGziuG44Y7JSLqTBdtOgIMsUD7xWFCl99THYrZG7C8FKiDNbEwMisTf1UK0ECLpNkH7gk-TZsG0afH981d7sPzYP5XSVBxkXJX-gj3w1NDbfErjqsH4e/s1600/DSCN0218.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq799AxEebE8ECotM9Kht8pjJBjGziuG44Y7JSLqTBdtOgIMsUD7xWFCl99THYrZG7C8FKiDNbEwMisTf1UK0ECLpNkH7gk-TZsG0afH981d7sPzYP5XSVBxkXJX-gj3w1NDbfErjqsH4e/s320/DSCN0218.JPG" width="180" /></a><span id="goog_627842234"></span><span id="goog_627842235"></span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/"></a>4. The greatest compliment the Burmese can give your looks is that you must be an actor/actress. Take for example, the kids from the island paya. I should also add that they prayed for me to have enough money to buy a Pajero, which I didn't know was considered the utmost in luxury.</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">5. If you give someone money on the street or in a pagoda, you best be ready to hand out dolla bills to everyone else within 30 seconds. I probably spent more money handing out these bills than on anything else in Burma. I guess I'm kind of a sucker when it comes to that.</div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBvfzMkEsbW5tI1re7l3q_TTuIX-2bGtyOBifrnSDxfmce-dtabUPeaLo6t7LAxvfZHPmrCRa3bLym3mq9ZCfSXI8aWhoonfLnHzHzV8Mq4P0JwlxmeXFIxIc8k9X8pXIizVeN3qwqSwph/s1600/DSCN0258.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBvfzMkEsbW5tI1re7l3q_TTuIX-2bGtyOBifrnSDxfmce-dtabUPeaLo6t7LAxvfZHPmrCRa3bLym3mq9ZCfSXI8aWhoonfLnHzHzV8Mq4P0JwlxmeXFIxIc8k9X8pXIizVeN3qwqSwph/s320/DSCN0258.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">the wishing bell thing...they echo all over the pagodas</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">5 Things I Miss (excluding people):</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">1. Spinach, Trop 50 Blueberry Pom juice</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">2. Running, yoga, boxing, swimming (aka gettin back on my game)</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">3.My bed (these hard ass beds suck) and scented candles</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">4. House and DesHos</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">5.Mani/pedis, massages, and blow dryers (aka gettin my groom on)</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Five favorite things:</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">1. Food (minus the pool of grease and sugar)</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">2.Sunsets (best I've seen not over water)</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">3. Shwedagon Paya</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">4. The gold pagodas everywhere and the ancient ones in Bagan</div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV55qD23FbQ5mOMNKy_26F-h4-eIo2vuN7gXPLeP8rNNjANEWrokRLcf7W0BZwEIwSAWwUpdyZMyv4_WOHB2AYoAhX7w3Ex9bBs1n01rl2vY8nPI69MVPB3sdL7CmqFKKB6WdC5UMJKVXs/s1600/DSCN0294.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV55qD23FbQ5mOMNKy_26F-h4-eIo2vuN7gXPLeP8rNNjANEWrokRLcf7W0BZwEIwSAWwUpdyZMyv4_WOHB2AYoAhX7w3Ex9bBs1n01rl2vY8nPI69MVPB3sdL7CmqFKKB6WdC5UMJKVXs/s320/DSCN0294.JPG" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tata Temple</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnvrZ6vqFe-J3_lKg3EeKI14h2c4NgonNyGY3XM-MFISnZUl83apjFdfeYmMxLlGwqe1xLkOOC6Or3V0b8rq8KryT5r92_yzGOHT6pmtHaSY9KDEen5DSMqjO7-V3IC2qsrghaQbKCCAtG/s1600/DSCN0276.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnvrZ6vqFe-J3_lKg3EeKI14h2c4NgonNyGY3XM-MFISnZUl83apjFdfeYmMxLlGwqe1xLkOOC6Or3V0b8rq8KryT5r92_yzGOHT6pmtHaSY9KDEen5DSMqjO7-V3IC2qsrghaQbKCCAtG/s320/DSCN0276.JPG" width="180" /></a>5. The stories behind the pagodas. Tata Temple, for example, (not its real name) was built in response to a challenge by the king. At some point, she had tripped, revealing her tatas. The king then instructed the present men to construct a pagoda in the likeness of her breast, and that whoever succeeded would get a prize. Naturally, the one who did, was killed. The other cool story I can remember explains the presence of lions in all the pagodas. Legend has it that the princess was one banished to the forest for "being naughty." If I were to interpret my family's speech, I would say this implies something sexually oriented. Anyway, the princess somehow got pregnant by the lion in the forest and carried the human baby to term. After the king died, the people decided to look for the proper heir to the throne by following a magical carriage that moved on its own, with the crown placed on top. This carriage rolled itself throughout town, and into the jungle, finally stopping at the threshold of the little cottage where the banished princess and her young son lived. This boy was then brought back to be king. As he got older, he started wondering who his father was. When he found out, he was so embarrassed, he killed the lion. Afterward, bad things happened. (I can't remember if it was that he was sick or having nightmares or something.) He consulted the monks who told him that he needed to pray to his father to make these bad things stop. Too proud to pray to the lion, the king asked for an alternative. The monk then suggested that he build statues of lions in front of the pagodas so that when he went to pray there, he could indirectly pray to the lion. And so, lions stand guard at pagodas to this day. Pretty silly, but interesting all the same. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Five things I won't miss:</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUKlQDvBw1pOO9CThiKRo7h7LEmejvGv-WGQur3jsXfffAwvrl1xfwvjuWYw8f6x_2V-2PLY9AlPpMNFYe3edHTsd8BLhnzjQKpff56ytchvwlV2wQrT_qda6iye-01-nbiAJNyoCueTQL/s1600/DSCN0283.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUKlQDvBw1pOO9CThiKRo7h7LEmejvGv-WGQur3jsXfffAwvrl1xfwvjuWYw8f6x_2V-2PLY9AlPpMNFYe3edHTsd8BLhnzjQKpff56ytchvwlV2wQrT_qda6iye-01-nbiAJNyoCueTQL/s320/DSCN0283.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">shrimp eyeballs. ew.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">1. These hard-ass beds</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOSjz2q1wBwIm95C4YkYJvYezOyq8q1JTKpUhJRLAFFAsIG7fLmD5qt36rwLZmZ5lLzsxkiTokXWCgsBXAX8N1vUQtzG57F-KkxMt4uon_JNDZmw9LEPW1MqlPfidbILJ0dd_Jjl3ZPdTN/s1600/DSCN0277.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOSjz2q1wBwIm95C4YkYJvYezOyq8q1JTKpUhJRLAFFAsIG7fLmD5qt36rwLZmZ5lLzsxkiTokXWCgsBXAX8N1vUQtzG57F-KkxMt4uon_JNDZmw9LEPW1MqlPfidbILJ0dd_Jjl3ZPdTN/s320/DSCN0277.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">2. Eyeballs in my food</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">3. Foot fungus-breeding grounds. Everyone has to be barefoot in all the pagodas...including the one built into an extensive network of limestone caves...no sunlight, lots of drippy water, lots of stanky feet. Ew.</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">4. Squatmaster toilets</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> 5. censored internet</div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxN-tTKwrgWywz7JKedZ8HR6KCxFBwDfIBLP9Ml9pPR0D5fyiTqKBAFOLSmao0dfb59wo9Dxe8NVXjs_x0ddBift-dh6ONySrKyu6dxS4Kyg0A0vEbZJ1lLQbrnG_TNh5yOGyhRb22cyh0/s1600/350.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxN-tTKwrgWywz7JKedZ8HR6KCxFBwDfIBLP9Ml9pPR0D5fyiTqKBAFOLSmao0dfb59wo9Dxe8NVXjs_x0ddBift-dh6ONySrKyu6dxS4Kyg0A0vEbZJ1lLQbrnG_TNh5yOGyhRb22cyh0/s320/350.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">my grandparents' graves</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuC-qvgvtrNDOoDnrPaBU5EFl52A7pHo7oZInpiDIrUrA5XQfWU2cqTmFzSwqo3xod38N6p2fAbSMKkp88VNSZPFCEKqlNJ9uCnDW_4qTKG55yIXZ8yAZ60jz4T5ANmhItUiI_97-omzi-/s1600/355.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuC-qvgvtrNDOoDnrPaBU5EFl52A7pHo7oZInpiDIrUrA5XQfWU2cqTmFzSwqo3xod38N6p2fAbSMKkp88VNSZPFCEKqlNJ9uCnDW_4qTKG55yIXZ8yAZ60jz4T5ANmhItUiI_97-omzi-/s320/355.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">palm candy aka sugar (Dad smashed my fingers in the car door)</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyknVvb06LrGq3BpzKLgErTmvzwqO1QKejpqoXNyghKJWXoyjjge9ZU_elHbaRP9imiR_Nf91TVJBz9BXfjIlxnbzqaBZduKXPonxMchyphenhyphen1857m6lFdFYmxkNxzSow6MRMUYenaP7OwsThZ/s1600/DSCN0170.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyknVvb06LrGq3BpzKLgErTmvzwqO1QKejpqoXNyghKJWXoyjjge9ZU_elHbaRP9imiR_Nf91TVJBz9BXfjIlxnbzqaBZduKXPonxMchyphenhyphen1857m6lFdFYmxkNxzSow6MRMUYenaP7OwsThZ/s320/DSCN0170.JPG" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tanaka is this paste made from some type of wood. They use it as sunscreen, but ready-made containers of the paste call it "skin whitener." Pale skin is all the rage.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC74xYrgthBDSSlyMmF8cSfbcETBU_scXNHRU_VgkDusac7NlWO0iAu6661k7UKHNvTBOkpqEx8sD0Wy3n8SHBJVNj0zIpwWGhHcj8a2q-glbYbeICUqzxT-F1hE0fSTGLMOFzUXp5bxG9/s1600/365.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC74xYrgthBDSSlyMmF8cSfbcETBU_scXNHRU_VgkDusac7NlWO0iAu6661k7UKHNvTBOkpqEx8sD0Wy3n8SHBJVNj0zIpwWGhHcj8a2q-glbYbeICUqzxT-F1hE0fSTGLMOFzUXp5bxG9/s320/365.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dunno what it was, but it was pretty good.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinhRPib-ujM5kHZ3wELM5X8R3Il9yuDVx66M_dUmA5hqmOcF6xnN-IIWs_v8GFeknwS1nmyQJ28ZjuuKBd6nUHjaBMcUtT-Q9AKC-9lyUzRKigQAXZ4wbH-rLkYzy5giRhEQe6gWBQ0yp2/s1600/363.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinhRPib-ujM5kHZ3wELM5X8R3Il9yuDVx66M_dUmA5hqmOcF6xnN-IIWs_v8GFeknwS1nmyQJ28ZjuuKBd6nUHjaBMcUtT-Q9AKC-9lyUzRKigQAXZ4wbH-rLkYzy5giRhEQe6gWBQ0yp2/s320/363.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">yeahhh, check out that bling. the market is packed with jewelery.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSceGu8smLvWP_BsfmmhYVtFFCFfFaDVhxOjSeu_NWqU-qz1mxFVR6MwxL1_SrUS7Ky7Kf9nC9q_DEY1_VzMyvVsuKBaqQTwsTE9byhxqbtn7waMKcqwByXbVrlYsHh2cEaLwPTlnEWb32/s1600/DSCN0074.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSceGu8smLvWP_BsfmmhYVtFFCFfFaDVhxOjSeu_NWqU-qz1mxFVR6MwxL1_SrUS7Ky7Kf9nC9q_DEY1_VzMyvVsuKBaqQTwsTE9byhxqbtn7waMKcqwByXbVrlYsHh2cEaLwPTlnEWb32/s320/DSCN0074.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">the youngest at all pops' parties, by at least 30 years</td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT1IGDTeyV7PlD2_FObWeFSft6WVEaMJVdS_9PxVDr7jfKUQOjPx1kWRs78f8ZOVtjCXMr5rzeZ20VQJEnaNH6qHkQiTXtV5lo2rynBXP4Q-5QRg3oL0eQxbwmY-c-Uve5jpKzuDINIYcP/s1600/DSCN0236.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT1IGDTeyV7PlD2_FObWeFSft6WVEaMJVdS_9PxVDr7jfKUQOjPx1kWRs78f8ZOVtjCXMr5rzeZ20VQJEnaNH6qHkQiTXtV5lo2rynBXP4Q-5QRg3oL0eQxbwmY-c-Uve5jpKzuDINIYcP/s320/DSCN0236.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR8hqOHz1hRt9Y2yDsOR3pnUoBzV9-Dit180F45TTvK9IH4x0UoEuqTlClEaDgX6yEHqQ0sTieTzp2_lR21qO4F-vBe9ikSSgdeXualVhuejS5b96R1ecgO7pjRwCbcvA8cGveuN2GPtqC/s1600/DSCN0234.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR8hqOHz1hRt9Y2yDsOR3pnUoBzV9-Dit180F45TTvK9IH4x0UoEuqTlClEaDgX6yEHqQ0sTieTzp2_lR21qO4F-vBe9ikSSgdeXualVhuejS5b96R1ecgO7pjRwCbcvA8cGveuN2GPtqC/s320/DSCN0234.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pomelo, or whatever they call it...so good. I had five huge ones</td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIeeordZtBFEF_u_6fX9h7NSmJCrYVs0WXM_juoinuW4u9sXwqUFy86VKIf0nLmu9CpmKo5-pTexuM8yreD-VFCKs2IcehDm2F0EPYtxt5luKuSLdvtspD5fpaXn-vhR1kBo9C_R7uUZPf/s1600/DSCN0249.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIeeordZtBFEF_u_6fX9h7NSmJCrYVs0WXM_juoinuW4u9sXwqUFy86VKIf0nLmu9CpmKo5-pTexuM8yreD-VFCKs2IcehDm2F0EPYtxt5luKuSLdvtspD5fpaXn-vhR1kBo9C_R7uUZPf/s320/DSCN0249.JPG" width="180" /></a></div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp3lkMTN1yL9msAXiBkSQQe7CG_luZd2g9mxevSyttLT3jdDTRCd_McBijUgKv3QFnvlbS2WumoszemD37EsP0DHhCpq_0u8xq2qXP0BVmd3HlAF0ahyphenhyphenQbcXNIwfiKRwr22wqNloNccxMz/s1600/DSCN0278.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp3lkMTN1yL9msAXiBkSQQe7CG_luZd2g9mxevSyttLT3jdDTRCd_McBijUgKv3QFnvlbS2WumoszemD37EsP0DHhCpq_0u8xq2qXP0BVmd3HlAF0ahyphenhyphenQbcXNIwfiKRwr22wqNloNccxMz/s320/DSCN0278.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This poor owl was so scared. They trap them, then sell them to you to let free...which I did. Ha.</td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix5c21BM4xKI5Kf8t592QVIWFtyeqXiYaoHFdAICw3EUk14n36D03T7HPGewSgOnoLwV6LWfd5hKnPixBmUrOld7sS1lVISMMPS3vxL-dR-a3mlpwBu_ouqkNtq1divqWV_smPjVxfmOhp/s1600/DSCN0280.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix5c21BM4xKI5Kf8t592QVIWFtyeqXiYaoHFdAICw3EUk14n36D03T7HPGewSgOnoLwV6LWfd5hKnPixBmUrOld7sS1lVISMMPS3vxL-dR-a3mlpwBu_ouqkNtq1divqWV_smPjVxfmOhp/s320/DSCN0280.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhglf-_W8x6rl9OHJAArZ9dleKUF4rud8swc1btmHgZNcnfd5o_tZ0m_Rtetoysu0tzldDW2wFPtyk5tjcW1CZeWLE1MM4B85So_kOHN2ZKQJMhb2qx4laPa4AUN_ELPL2s-d5Sb4-FRmO-/s1600/DSCN0300.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhglf-_W8x6rl9OHJAArZ9dleKUF4rud8swc1btmHgZNcnfd5o_tZ0m_Rtetoysu0tzldDW2wFPtyk5tjcW1CZeWLE1MM4B85So_kOHN2ZKQJMhb2qx4laPa4AUN_ELPL2s-d5Sb4-FRmO-/s320/DSCN0300.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dad's old office</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiArfG-skf-nX9I2f0dFuDOafCG8aEk5Xxw1pKrMLA4EwKXBib-mHKrDfcrQLub1p94RfrZVf1AoQoMOdkDWdI_fKoHeUj0N8gZwhLhk5Gp9hvvNTiFK6hRn2zCkkvgarqt8VmYwOsmPLAR/s1600/DSCN0267.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiArfG-skf-nX9I2f0dFuDOafCG8aEk5Xxw1pKrMLA4EwKXBib-mHKrDfcrQLub1p94RfrZVf1AoQoMOdkDWdI_fKoHeUj0N8gZwhLhk5Gp9hvvNTiFK6hRn2zCkkvgarqt8VmYwOsmPLAR/s320/DSCN0267.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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</div>Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11907875832047377609noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7617430187853050083.post-17219613093558843572011-01-11T21:32:00.000-08:002011-01-11T21:32:41.471-08:00Censored Internet = More Delayed Posts<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvtZTHxzI5FbGcIHxYB8NykVKlnqfwiFgDl2IAw0ZjBI47GG8q-HrGOmzJ4D5shwNnbqzrv1QlqcLA86fbZuios15rGiscsmXGUXEYDev45oEwlSrtl8wuO-5m3sOoRc2WQ2WrGGlkWoR7/s1600/315.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvtZTHxzI5FbGcIHxYB8NykVKlnqfwiFgDl2IAw0ZjBI47GG8q-HrGOmzJ4D5shwNnbqzrv1QlqcLA86fbZuios15rGiscsmXGUXEYDev45oEwlSrtl8wuO-5m3sOoRc2WQ2WrGGlkWoR7/s320/315.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Gmail is on the naughty list according to the Burmese government. So is my blog. Heh.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Despite censored internet, Burma is gorgeous. Yangon's a lot like an Asian Guatemala City except that the cortes are longyis and men wear them too, Burmese is spoken instead of Spanish, and the barefoot include not only the pitiable poor but also the revered monks, dressed in deep saffron robes. The sidewalks are crumbly, the street signs and demarcations are more suggestions than rules, and the aromas of the street vendors beckons the taste buds of the brave—or dumb, some might argue.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLZ_x6nXDXSrQO5PwHo4yM86BH1wvrpmjKRGkI9QQLpeSNtVcoHMRYsV79lCqkeNFA-3kBDPbGlsJyg_tk6lMBCNdfRMFDvJ6Tqfc3e0QY_LbzfGztZDhBmwUunNWuik7mtfdX0YefagtY/s1600/319.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLZ_x6nXDXSrQO5PwHo4yM86BH1wvrpmjKRGkI9QQLpeSNtVcoHMRYsV79lCqkeNFA-3kBDPbGlsJyg_tk6lMBCNdfRMFDvJ6Tqfc3e0QY_LbzfGztZDhBmwUunNWuik7mtfdX0YefagtY/s320/319.JPG" width="239" /></a></div><div style="border-color: -moz-use-text-color -moz-use-text-color windowtext; border-style: none none solid; border-width: medium medium 1.5pt; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; padding: 0in 0in 1pt;"> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="border: medium none; padding: 0in;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEB5nfGLD-FtudNLxqz7Er5ZDmG0I1htxmP8r3Mx7rLsiU37JcFdtiC9V5TnDZXIyZGez3hPcBRsOT0QxqZ3wyj32KhWRCoifPru-EvXzdatzMHnbznwXb2QUGjWRmbepm_47ET4wYgr8H/s1600/329.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEB5nfGLD-FtudNLxqz7Er5ZDmG0I1htxmP8r3Mx7rLsiU37JcFdtiC9V5TnDZXIyZGez3hPcBRsOT0QxqZ3wyj32KhWRCoifPru-EvXzdatzMHnbznwXb2QUGjWRmbepm_47ET4wYgr8H/s320/329.JPG" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: small;">Spent New Years Eve at Sedona Hotel. Lots of rich Burmese people drinking bottles of Johnnie Walker. It was cool to spend new years in a different country, but for some reason I feel like Gladiator 2011, complete with scene reenactments, Viking and denim fashion shows set to neyo and lady gaga, and a scantily clad Philipino cover band, doesn’t quite represent traditional Burmese celebrations. We were lucky, apparently, to be in the presence of Burma’s most popular band, Iron Cross. Interesting stuff. There was also a martial arts team that performed their stuff, with traditional Burmese music in the background. Really jarring, cacophonous music. I have to admit though, watching a whole mess of drunk Asians is ridiculously amusing. I did really miss celebrating with my homies. Every year I’ve been surrounded by friends, which made sitting in the middle of a room full of strangers a little lonely. Three traditions I missed, aside from hangin with the homies, were watching the ball drop, poppin champagne, and the lucky midnight kiss. Pretty underwhelming NYE over all, but an interesting change of pace.<o:p></o:p></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Tuesday, January 4, 2011—Yangon bus station, 9am<o:p></o:p></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNXIsWxo-z-YxR4FsdA_vH1o7O3GK7Pnl4BD83lGhHkQ4EDrnSq4QmIRty03oZFdEBZB3LV9fCnyWnazpUoXyltj4eaRKzNcaVpe8UKNNG-jolo7chZuliETxn2GwGmr1Z78sfRsp2_f26/s1600/354.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNXIsWxo-z-YxR4FsdA_vH1o7O3GK7Pnl4BD83lGhHkQ4EDrnSq4QmIRty03oZFdEBZB3LV9fCnyWnazpUoXyltj4eaRKzNcaVpe8UKNNG-jolo7chZuliETxn2GwGmr1Z78sfRsp2_f26/s320/354.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">couldn't get more than a few swallows down. too wormy looking</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3I5mOZGu7tPa2l-HcplO1ReUL5nzTMPsajlJr7jAN3ScclqvlnGMxTuFuFbkKyj0LMadmG7M7t4HtSU_M7JAwUbVslbgN4HdaAT5MHqGmXR3pYpHKAnMFdxWwtjsXTYUOPpXWbI7BJREl/s1600/DSCN0117.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3I5mOZGu7tPa2l-HcplO1ReUL5nzTMPsajlJr7jAN3ScclqvlnGMxTuFuFbkKyj0LMadmG7M7t4HtSU_M7JAwUbVslbgN4HdaAT5MHqGmXR3pYpHKAnMFdxWwtjsXTYUOPpXWbI7BJREl/s320/DSCN0117.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">with various relatives</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9Z8eEU2jwCE7175m88k5ND7vxfwYZ5sTmZxpKCBBqZUYQT1L3KgPmpWqM-WH2hpm3JnF6eszmddi_bO52QcrYag3Mz_JVxYc7LBi9JTn27-G6PEG-Cz-SytMzEakVhNraYdG4fXP3HBMk/s1600/361.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9Z8eEU2jwCE7175m88k5ND7vxfwYZ5sTmZxpKCBBqZUYQT1L3KgPmpWqM-WH2hpm3JnF6eszmddi_bO52QcrYag3Mz_JVxYc7LBi9JTn27-G6PEG-Cz-SytMzEakVhNraYdG4fXP3HBMk/s320/361.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">adorable, doing their rounds</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">It’s been an interesting and exhausting couple of days. Food is constantly being shoved in my face, this aunt or that aunt is pulling or pushing me in one direction or other, everybody’s speaking a language I don’t understand. But we’ve seen some cool things, Shwedagon Pagoda being the most impressive. I wanted to get it right at sunset with the gold and red rays hitting the real gold plating of the biggest dome. We were, as usual, delayed by the large family entourage. Anyway, we didn’t make it in time for the perfect lighting, but we still got some pretty amazing pics of the shining gold against the dark night sky. Stunning.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd7ZrLQssYcmUF_jWsNq84v19zRI0jvwad1BWL8BWObQE_n-uyXrWOYUsNKoZhHGDxKw_z9WJTeYb8j6HQzfmCMoxmn6iZrU_WV6AnvROuNxp378uk7b1xAaC1oLNhcxqBdMMU1xAIUY6t/s1600/334.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd7ZrLQssYcmUF_jWsNq84v19zRI0jvwad1BWL8BWObQE_n-uyXrWOYUsNKoZhHGDxKw_z9WJTeYb8j6HQzfmCMoxmn6iZrU_WV6AnvROuNxp378uk7b1xAaC1oLNhcxqBdMMU1xAIUY6t/s320/334.JPG" width="239" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje8IyA_8ZN5Zl41L5Mbo44KP-OmjPdTlnaJX2qqkFLdcIZjtDovZ3hiUVCpZZ2pgj_7lL2I3vxfWnHCyGmp_FtLF4OzKdbFje-p9a_BuhH0bvnX9W6kBif2v-pM4Lg8BC0y2GKvI1LJQ6a/s1600/DSCN0145.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje8IyA_8ZN5Zl41L5Mbo44KP-OmjPdTlnaJX2qqkFLdcIZjtDovZ3hiUVCpZZ2pgj_7lL2I3vxfWnHCyGmp_FtLF4OzKdbFje-p9a_BuhH0bvnX9W6kBif2v-pM4Lg8BC0y2GKvI1LJQ6a/s320/DSCN0145.JPG" width="180" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLHpcGdLAdDXzC1nE9T43_S4WY8QMxtmAw_WggjQjrWCUfjR7laKejUfgAwBLgpEn_7zDjuYkkMIPB152heGGLlKkUAO8A8iHSv9aXPFQtVMVpk-mqvpaqc3JggW0rHoB-kmM2nMRnWTeH/s1600/DSCN0153.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLHpcGdLAdDXzC1nE9T43_S4WY8QMxtmAw_WggjQjrWCUfjR7laKejUfgAwBLgpEn_7zDjuYkkMIPB152heGGLlKkUAO8A8iHSv9aXPFQtVMVpk-mqvpaqc3JggW0rHoB-kmM2nMRnWTeH/s320/DSCN0153.JPG" width="180" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Saw another paya, sitting in the middle of the Irrawady River. Took a boat to get out there. I'll get pics up on the next post. Strapped for time...have a meeting at this clinic on the border. At that paya though, we kicked it with some kids to whom I had given some money and chocolate. They prayed for me to be an actress because I was "so pretty," and a lady doctor (per my aunt's suggestion)…one more boy finished with the prayer that I marry a rich actor husband. Ha. I'll get their pics up on the next one, too.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><o:p><br />
</o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><o:p>So this border town is supposed to be a little dangerous...if you get too close to the border, you can risk getting shot by Burmese child soldiers (who the ppl at UNICEF claim don't exist, but they lied to me). Best get my bulletproof vest on.</o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><o:p><br />
</o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><o:p>Thank you for all the birthday love, too. The texts (including the mysterious 617 east coast text...who are you again?) were much appreciated, as were the emails, with birthday pics and without. More later...</o:p></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></span></span>Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11907875832047377609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7617430187853050083.post-69958046502760546972011-01-10T07:57:00.000-08:002011-01-10T07:57:45.325-08:00En route to Myanmar (aka no one has any idea what's going on, especially the airline)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg25QWE1fm6L0SdxYmZHw5HKnyzML5D5ZHci_P8XEibVVsSs8pMrOMzYUXGBSxG5g-3kd9nOavvgc9sLdH0sJkZ2JDXy445gTQOH8sgLeEvvYa2c3FXgEO4T4JaqrYA4LsWJO5nDz4ttNZz/s1600/292.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><span style="font-size: small;">December 30, 2010—Shanghai, 3:30am<o:p></o:p></span></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQl7X87VYj2VEhfYinpC0YSpbtbrT2qRM6kwiIVQE1n4JxGTSo1j4qWRvUkL9x92h53zbExEsdqxP2IAPqxzQpLTC6CbxEIv1SjI0J2imtSEObJLRZxjD0OlRrR08SG3nYa8kwT15SaBIc/s1600/272.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQl7X87VYj2VEhfYinpC0YSpbtbrT2qRM6kwiIVQE1n4JxGTSo1j4qWRvUkL9x92h53zbExEsdqxP2IAPqxzQpLTC6CbxEIv1SjI0J2imtSEObJLRZxjD0OlRrR08SG3nYa8kwT15SaBIc/s320/272.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">stared at this board for hours</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjTGsHO2pHrqiY9_8Dy4ttSfw5KB0nsZC9YO5Glt8Q_rLiOo9OYJrQMs0QVQnXd8d8B24FuSJhfypoSc3uh0qEA7Jkbo1piNd9pTVPjS5csZcOjgiRZXwDig9iH2FPdI5N0mbbWiw_jgNj/s1600/276.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjTGsHO2pHrqiY9_8Dy4ttSfw5KB0nsZC9YO5Glt8Q_rLiOo9OYJrQMs0QVQnXd8d8B24FuSJhfypoSc3uh0qEA7Jkbo1piNd9pTVPjS5csZcOjgiRZXwDig9iH2FPdI5N0mbbWiw_jgNj/s320/276.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">aggressive shower</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Made it out to China finally. With the five-hour flight delay (LAX and I are tight now), we missed both of our connecting flights, leaving us in China for two nights. While I sat in the international terminal, I thought of all the places I could be going if I just hopped on any of the flights leaving within the next eight hours. Dubai, Santiago, and Tahiti were my top three. At Chinese customs, it took a whole team of popo to figure out our itinerary. Being one in the morning after a forever long flight, and having no idea what anyone was saying, was a little frustrating. In the end, we settled for the conclusion that nothing could be determined until we arrived at the other Shanghai airport tomorrow/later today. But they set us up in this comfy hotel with free wifi—awesome—so it wasn’t all awful. Took a hot shower after I figured out how to work it. There’s the big rainfall-esque showerhead as well as the detachable showerhead…but then there are these two small heads at about waist level that shoot water at you horizontally. (see pic) My core was not prepared for the assault when I switched the water source. Ha. After I got over the faint fertilizer smell of the water, the orchid milk body wash was much appreciated. I’m sharing a room with this woman from my flight—really nice, but we can’t really communicate. Ha.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">December 30, 2010—Shanghai, 8:00am<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLFN4vpvodgqItNLN_as0HKR564vGL8oHeuJH7n2VqCEySzoWw0dmxfDHKGdTfKVOqS_c_M46C138XVrY_01NfX0ZKbYt_7vOhwIy1wG9qGLQAkqejP3NYBoVHE8dC9mJO7FXhlIc_jwvR/s1600/275.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLFN4vpvodgqItNLN_as0HKR564vGL8oHeuJH7n2VqCEySzoWw0dmxfDHKGdTfKVOqS_c_M46C138XVrY_01NfX0ZKbYt_7vOhwIy1wG9qGLQAkqejP3NYBoVHE8dC9mJO7FXhlIc_jwvR/s320/275.JPG" width="239" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFWJF0oyPXYTsE892bZ9xgZKtxW7HKKCTPyDeaUgor8j1F8AlUECpaWL2LliIX0EPJRFTz3EfZMddZ5M9DXiQMnrp1sf6QET3Bn3dDaYherTnhJOBfEPtrn5pV9XXPv2dQnudGatrNoZGC/s1600/286.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFWJF0oyPXYTsE892bZ9xgZKtxW7HKKCTPyDeaUgor8j1F8AlUECpaWL2LliIX0EPJRFTz3EfZMddZ5M9DXiQMnrp1sf6QET3Bn3dDaYherTnhJOBfEPtrn5pV9XXPv2dQnudGatrNoZGC/s320/286.JPG" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: small;">Shanghai is cold. Icy almost. And the beds are hard. I felt like I slept on a big crate with sheets. Surprisingly enough, I’m relatively alert after two hours of crate-sleep. Even made it down for breakfast, which involved an interesting array of comida. (see pic) Lots of meat-looking things I couldn’t identify and veggies deep-fried and pickled. They even had deep-fried bread (which actually wasn’t too bad. Yes, I tried it—don’t judge). Unfortunately their soy milk tasted burnt. Didn’t know that was possible. After all that salty food I had to get my sweet fix—worked a good dent in the block of white chocolate I brought. Ha. Breakfast of champions. I considered going to the gym here, but I’d be pushing the clock, and it would kind of suck to get stranded in Shanghai. But I suppose there are worse situations. Aside from the aggressive shower and hard beds, there was another interesting aspect of this hotel room I thought worth mentioning. There’s a slot for your room key as you enter the door. (see pic) Without the card in the slot, there’s no electricity in the room—no lights, no charging, nothing. I suppose it makes it difficult to lose the key, eh? Internet’s kind of spotty, and when it does work all I can get is gmail and PCOR mail…no facebook or travel blogging.<o:p></o:p> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">December 31, 2010—Kunming, 6:30am<o:p></o:p></span></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9lJDFC6PCjodTGBlSLEBRkdOadFkGcRfJrQKRO50ufyIwjuUCvMmlwZJlXa5UTv2Mtj12HVrISQsiGYXQn9h0t4DGTpfWn3KsGrotbKsh7X-khlz52Es-T1pLre4tzpzvD4mVsHuWrEsF/s1600/282.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9lJDFC6PCjodTGBlSLEBRkdOadFkGcRfJrQKRO50ufyIwjuUCvMmlwZJlXa5UTv2Mtj12HVrISQsiGYXQn9h0t4DGTpfWn3KsGrotbKsh7X-khlz52Es-T1pLre4tzpzvD4mVsHuWrEsF/s320/282.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">great jasmine green tea from the airport</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Spent a rather unproductive afternoon/evening in Kunming. Apparently China Eastern Airlines can’t plan too far ahead when one of their flights is delayed. We ran around the Shanghai airport trying to figure out what the deal was with the third leg of our flight from LA to Yangon. Every person directed us to the next, each person speaking less and less English. We ended up having to play it by ear (fine by me, but stressed the pops out, which stressed me out. Ha), not knowing when our next flight was or where we’d be staying in Kunming until we got here. At first glance, the Kunming airport was crazy. After I had been standing around people-watching for awhile, it was still crazy. People milling around, cops in snazzy uniforms standing around, sweet and salty processed foods in bright and shiny plastic packaging everywhere. Oh and the bathrooms. Good god. I hadn’t seen one of these squatmaster toilets-in-the-ground since I’d been in Indonesia, and for some reason, I hadn’t expected to walk into one. Remind me to do my biz on the plane next time. If that’s the standard til I’m back in SF, I’m gonna have bangin quads. Although…having my pops around is having a serious impact on my waistline. I feel like we eat every hour just because” it’s the only time we’ll be at this place in this city.” And maybe my cooking is just bland, but everything is ridiculously salty or sweet to me here. Out of control. I am looking forward to some good Burmese and Thai food, though. I have to admit however, I do miss me a good Barbacoa burrito with guac and all the spicy fixins. Should’ve added Cholula to my travel essentials. Next time.<o:p></o:p></span></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7oz0o56okEWMlDPDDw73P0G-nuDOBw3ZeF-WKeSogSK-J9_Qepbw9-MFk352AYyrIRlAOBOw0H-MXz_rXOs8uXjZSyHSQwk4PvSHVWF7Cyvr7QttA9XoVFWkxOM0tIuCLvFjiGL6OeCeJ/s1600/285.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7oz0o56okEWMlDPDDw73P0G-nuDOBw3ZeF-WKeSogSK-J9_Qepbw9-MFk352AYyrIRlAOBOw0H-MXz_rXOs8uXjZSyHSQwk4PvSHVWF7Cyvr7QttA9XoVFWkxOM0tIuCLvFjiGL6OeCeJ/s320/285.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">yeaaahhh. jiggggllllyyy</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Hit the gym in the hotel the airline put us up in last night. It was the strangest fitness center I have ever seen—red lights, 70s swoopy ceiling structure, the tiniest treadmill, and two contraptions that are designed to jiggle your gut around with an attached belt. One treadmill, one spinner bike, two fat-jigglers. Haha. Sitting at the Kunming airport…again…waiting for the check-in counter to open up for our flight. Always super early traveling with pops…except of course when we’re in the states and I really want him to be on time. It’s all good though—I let him call the shots. He’s already gotten on me for my “rebellious” attitude, hating when people tell me what to do. What can I say—I don’t take kindly to micromanagers. He even admitted, for the first time, that my brother and I were essentially financially supported orphans, so we have issues. Haha. True story. I think we’ve done alright for ourselves considering, though. It’s kinda funny to have it described that way, particularly by my pops.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">December 31, 2010—Yangon, 1:00pm<o:p></o:p></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Finally made it to Burma. As the plane neared our destination, I was like a kid outside a candy store, face glued to the double-pane window, taking in the scene. We flew over a patchwork of greens, browns, lakes, and rivers, dotted by the glinting gold of the pagodas. It was absolutely gorgeous. Customs was a breeze. </span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJDOm2y1jdWuqHzBU272BR7H6u99AQD1wd7JyO8CEMG6XAKI3yj4Q4uJhQq2DNOFgLrSB-59ELi_hrU2s-b0ZKwzgbJAr-teszS8uZHSc8VzRxFZU-bNBo2Uf8PhGVYoRemc3FL0kxeyHe/s1600/299.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJDOm2y1jdWuqHzBU272BR7H6u99AQD1wd7JyO8CEMG6XAKI3yj4Q4uJhQq2DNOFgLrSB-59ELi_hrU2s-b0ZKwzgbJAr-teszS8uZHSc8VzRxFZU-bNBo2Uf8PhGVYoRemc3FL0kxeyHe/s320/299.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg25QWE1fm6L0SdxYmZHw5HKnyzML5D5ZHci_P8XEibVVsSs8pMrOMzYUXGBSxG5g-3kd9nOavvgc9sLdH0sJkZ2JDXy445gTQOH8sgLeEvvYa2c3FXgEO4T4JaqrYA4LsWJO5nDz4ttNZz/s1600/292.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg25QWE1fm6L0SdxYmZHw5HKnyzML5D5ZHci_P8XEibVVsSs8pMrOMzYUXGBSxG5g-3kd9nOavvgc9sLdH0sJkZ2JDXy445gTQOH8sgLeEvvYa2c3FXgEO4T4JaqrYA4LsWJO5nDz4ttNZz/s320/292.JPG" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Everybody be trippin for no reason. Pops’ cousin or some other relative (I can't keep them straight. Everybody is introduced to me as my cousin or his cousin, and everybody calls me "my daughter" in Burmese) came to pick us up, which made life a lot easier. Pops also decided last minute to switch hotels, canceling our Traders reservation (super shmancy with free censored wifi and a gym) because his med school homies were gravitating toward Panda Hotel. No internet, no gym, which would be fine, but he’s grumpy about me wanting to run outside to see the sights. It makes me want to run more, as juvenile as that is. You know, get my rebel on. But instead, I guess I’ll sit here in this 10’x10’ room for five hours “relaxing” and waiting for his cousins. (Pops later suggested we call them to find out when in that five hour time chunk they’d be coming. Why that wasn’t an acceptable option when I mentioned it…whatevs.) Next time, I travel alone...or at least with someone who can appreciate a more active sort of sightseeing. Being away from home for so long has made it pretty clear that we can only handle small doses of each other. He thinks I’m weird and stubborn; I think he’s self-righteous and inconsiderate. (Disclaimer: he’s my pops and I love him. Wouldn’t be where I am without him.) Whatevs. I think the longer I’m away from him, the more I idealize him, so that when he doesn’t quite measure up in person, boom goes the dynamite. Right about now would be a great time to get back in the ring at EPA Boxing with Johnnie. Get my ass worked and some of this pent-up energy out. </span></span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4jN7Fv5UoZ67h1v2jRaR1LqC5glpM5bYIrte3MaUx-U2X-Dr_VaYG1GwQUrqri4B-Hqm6dNl73VJrxVwVPcAiyLhF80UbSFL7cwbP9xgjeDmAGePQJs5-kOyDTL6VGhdCpstnau5Z6JPv/s1600/311.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4jN7Fv5UoZ67h1v2jRaR1LqC5glpM5bYIrte3MaUx-U2X-Dr_VaYG1GwQUrqri4B-Hqm6dNl73VJrxVwVPcAiyLhF80UbSFL7cwbP9xgjeDmAGePQJs5-kOyDTL6VGhdCpstnau5Z6JPv/s320/311.JPG" width="239" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirNJZ-KIb5JKg5oYsCpHOMJR8ylP9-6ceq_WTHiH6zFhzbqGxP5hzPCf5XK56_1B4Ik-7ZISJLfxrIZ3lmnXe_Gon4uxDCItGD51EkkOs7v3abxa2aMRvo0sA1WEZeDPd-HO0uKWZDni-1/s1600/314.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirNJZ-KIb5JKg5oYsCpHOMJR8ylP9-6ceq_WTHiH6zFhzbqGxP5hzPCf5XK56_1B4Ik-7ZISJLfxrIZ3lmnXe_Gon4uxDCItGD51EkkOs7v3abxa2aMRvo0sA1WEZeDPd-HO0uKWZDni-1/s320/314.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11907875832047377609noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7617430187853050083.post-45758962176270869852010-12-27T19:28:00.000-08:002010-12-27T19:28:16.061-08:00Next Up: Burma<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: small;">Sitting in Starbucks, sippin on my ridiculously sweet and oh-so-delicious caramel brulee latee (had to switch up the white chocolate mocha trend) in the satisfyingly red holiday cup, getting ready for this trip. Pops and I are taking off tomorrow from LAX (aka madhouse). Paid my bills, took out a fat cashwad from BofA </span><span style="font-size: small;">(no ATMs or card usage in</span> Burma. frickin sanctions), sent off my questionable political reading material (but decided to keep Mandela's autobiography. if they try to take it from me I'll hurt someone). The travel staples are packed: peanut butter, chocolate, beef jerky, running shoes, sports bras, ipod. Never got around to prophylaxing so if I contract malaria, I could possibly be screwed. heh. Cross your fingers.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash1/hs736.ash1/162988_1700362863439_1068930008_31883369_7929908_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash1/hs736.ash1/162988_1700362863439_1068930008_31883369_7929908_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hiking the bump'n grind with the sibs on Christmas</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Haven't totally booked all my hotels and domestic transportation, so this could get very interesting. Went to lunch with the homies; my fortune cookie said, "You will soon find more adventure in your life." So I have faith that everything will fall into place eventually. I'll try to keep you posted once I'm on the ground. Two layovers and two days from tomorrow, I'll be in Rangoon. Internet'll be censored and spotty, but if you'd like to get in touch with me, gmail should work (crystalakyaw@gmail.com) and possibly skype (crystalkyaw...I think). I'll get back at you from Burma, which as Rudyard Kipling has famously written, is "quite unlike any land you know about."</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">If I don't talk to you before then, Happy New Years!</div>Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11907875832047377609noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7617430187853050083.post-74766062364327464862010-12-08T13:15:00.000-08:002010-12-08T13:19:10.783-08:00Burma prep<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I've been organizing my itinerary for this Burma/Thailand trip coming up, which makes me both excited and a little nervous. Burma particularly, should be an interesting bit, having to keep all the names and locations a secret. Ha. It's a pretty cool time to be visiting though, given the recent elections and the release of the face of democracy in Burma, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aung_San_Suu_Kyi">Daw Aung San Suu Kyi</a>. I was reading up on some of the recent news in the country, which might be pretty dry to some of you, but if you're interested:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzPi3g9elWeZDwiWvSVamKZAJy8G9Cd96EzTjTfL-6tqtxi50XCwUvwY-EQW-ZqRvKSUnMGIF74g6qaeb1gvc3yjUMWiT4InQqpnaZaeXV_9QoqK2STFaBmYGunybn94sHnJacIcLgHiB6/s1600/Picture+8.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzPi3g9elWeZDwiWvSVamKZAJy8G9Cd96EzTjTfL-6tqtxi50XCwUvwY-EQW-ZqRvKSUnMGIF74g6qaeb1gvc3yjUMWiT4InQqpnaZaeXV_9QoqK2STFaBmYGunybn94sHnJacIcLgHiB6/s1600/Picture+8.png" /></a></span></div><ul style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><li><span style="font-size: small;">The elections have received strong international criticism from all sides, except China and ASEAN. The USDP harassed many journalists trying to cover the vote, detaining a Japanese journalist. Internet and telephone communications were also obstructed.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: small;">The military junta now holds enough seats in Parliament to do whatever they want "legally." Laws have been instated to limit the freedom of expression of parliamentarians if their speeches endanger national security, the unity of the country or violate the constitution. Essentially, putting the status quo on paper--agree with the govt or die.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: small;">There's a clinic in Rangoon meant to treat patients with HIV/AIDS. Suu Kyi recently visited; afterward, the SPDC came through evicting all the patients. They eventually rescinded the eviction orders with the condition that all 82 pts renew their permits to stay there weekly. I think I'm going to try to visit it.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: small;">The UN Org for Drugs and Crime recently released a report stating that Burma remains the major manufacturer of methamphetamine pills in the region. This should be of concern for many reasons, including:</span></li>
<ul><li><span style="font-size: small;">large-scale spillover into neighboring countries due to Burma's political instability</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: small;">injecting use has increased-->increased risk of HIV transmission, already a big problem</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: small;">health care for those infected isn't reliable and many times, inaccessible</span></li>
</ul></ul><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh53MjRiTaaL6lb17RYJ-b3ypvyCQW6R6yCHkjr5Tuv3eQBS-XODao52jY1WkkHuZsAuRbkFubJViIJjXY8nD4rpHlHLQJqnlSAhMEn3lMZw1sLZWsEUfxlG9whIVYW5iOoO4Ad_QtjLybJ/s1600/Picture+7.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="311" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh53MjRiTaaL6lb17RYJ-b3ypvyCQW6R6yCHkjr5Tuv3eQBS-XODao52jY1WkkHuZsAuRbkFubJViIJjXY8nD4rpHlHLQJqnlSAhMEn3lMZw1sLZWsEUfxlG9whIVYW5iOoO4Ad_QtjLybJ/s400/Picture+7.png" width="400" /></a></span></div><ul style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><li><span style="font-size: small;">The SPDC is the world's <i>only </i>state actor that lays landmines. Anti-personnel mines, specifically. The military routinely carries out "atrocity demining:" forcing civilians to walk out in front of soldiers to clear the mines and carry their stuff. Of the 263 landmine casualties last year, 259 were civilians. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: small;">Internet cafes are monitored by the popo. Two Australian filmmakers documenting independent media in Burma were deported mid-November. Going to have to be super secret.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: small;">Masses have been stopped, Muslim Rohingyas celebrating Eid-ul-Adha were harassed and arrested in November (what they were arrested for is still unclear).</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: small;">The number of Karen refugees fleeing into Thailand increased by more than 20,000 post-elections. Fighting in the area has increased. I'll be exploring this area, from the Thailand side.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: small;">The UNGA recently adopted a resolution on Burma essentially condemning the country for its unfair elections, calling for the release of all political prisoners, and welcoming Suu Kyi's release. What's interesting is that Russia, Bangladesh, India, Cambodia, Brunei, China, Laos, Malaysia, and Vietnam voted against it, while Indonesia, the Philippines, Singapore, and Thailand abstained. All its neighbors.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: small;">Gas is now being rationed, leading to a surge in black market sales (up to 3500 kyat, or $3.90, a gallon). snap.</span></li>
</ul><span style="font-size: small;">Should be a fun trip. All my contacts have made it very clear that I cannot use their names or the names of their organizations in Burma. A little intimidating, a little exciting. I'll be in Rangoon and Mandalay for most of the Burma bit. Can't wait. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY3uYxS20gntS_gMTa1fY6-26EHkw-OYXhPmx5evXJVSA2INS-kvcaMARYuTO387yPTdZy5i4FwhuE8HirYCpzETC31YoE5Bt1TCTQNS557Pix1J7dMdSeaMq8LkVKIo9e9wMcmd9A9O0e/s1600/Picture+9.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="167" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY3uYxS20gntS_gMTa1fY6-26EHkw-OYXhPmx5evXJVSA2INS-kvcaMARYuTO387yPTdZy5i4FwhuE8HirYCpzETC31YoE5Bt1TCTQNS557Pix1J7dMdSeaMq8LkVKIo9e9wMcmd9A9O0e/s400/Picture+9.png" width="400" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">from Mandalay</span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
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</span>Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11907875832047377609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7617430187853050083.post-52421991208459106952010-12-07T15:37:00.000-08:002010-12-07T15:37:17.548-08:00Interesting, Provocative Article on Humanitarian Aid<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">So, a friend of mine sent me this <a href="http://www.newyorker.com/arts/critics/atlarge/2010/10/11/101011crat_atlarge_gourevitch?currentPage=all">super interesting, very provocative article in the New Yorker</a> and I liked it so much I had to share. Here are my thoughts:</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">So...my response got kind of long-winded...long story short, I think the article is true, but unfair, perhaps in an effort to be provocative. It all comes down to finding a balance between accepting/recognizing the moral imperative to heal the wounded and help the helpless as a reflection of the compassion of human nature, and aiming to be practical in a world with limited resources and less-than-moral individuals. I personally side with the former, but that could change as the world hardens me. haha. optimism vs. practicality, and picking the lesser of two evils--those are biggest and simplest things I took away from the article. Are you willing to sacrifice the lives of the innocent to hurt the guilty by inaction? Or will you save the innocent, while indirectly supporting the guilty?<br />
<br />
___________<br />
<br />
But if you want to read my detailed thoughts...haha:<br />
<br />
The argument made by homie from RUF who claimed to be rescuing the country by increasing violence and upping the ante, attracting humanitarian aid is an interesting one, but it's kind of like the Machiavellian argument, the ends justifies the means...which is a contentious assertion. I can't really take that argument seriously--it seems to me, to be an excuse for their actions, and one that shouldn't be accepted so easily to relieve them of the obligation to take responsibility for their actions.<br />
<br />
The Sierra Leone moral hazard sitch with the bribery for kids and the amputees playing to the media is sad, but true. I mean, it just shows that everything is a business looking for a market...on a lesser scale, and less dramatically, the same thing happens with the parroquia in San Lucas. All these volunteers come down to move rocks around, or a team of docs comes through for two weeks to see a bunch of patients, ignorant to, or perhaps, choosing to ignore, the importance of a continuum of care...What happens to these patients after they leave? Who's there to ensure compliance? So it turns into this thing where the greatest benefit of a lot of the volunteers coming through is that they bring money to spend. The pts get antibiotics, which they might or might not finish, pain meds for chronic arthritis that'll last two weeks, etc. Here, I agree with Polman when she says that many humanitarians are not accountable to anyone or anything. They accept the credit, but not the blame. They wouldn't feel as warm and fuzzy inside if they did--a sentiment echoed by Maren later in the article. (And for some people, it's important to feel that way...it's what inspires people to want to help.) Not to be pessimistic or anything. I appreciate the fact that this trip may be a sacrifice for them, and that they feel their work rewarding. but after the self-righteous glamor has faded from all this humanitarian effort, it's important for volunteers to bring what the community needs, not what the volunteers think the community needs. I think, anyway. But I mean, I'm not an expert nor do I have much experience. It's obviously a complicated issue.<br />
<br />
The Nightingale-Dunant argument. Both sides have their own merit...but which is the lesser of two evils? Letting all the wounded be, hoping the war-wagers will have enough compassion to scale back...or accepting the fact that war will happen and taking on the moral imperative to help the innocent, or even not-so-innocent, wounded. That depends entirely on individuals' perspective and experiences, which you can see with Nightingale and Dunant. Nightingale had seen the horrors of war and was hardened by it, whereas Dunant was acting off an overwhelming sense of compassion incited by seeing the multitude of wounded, helpless. With the Nazi/Red Cross thing, for example...you either help the prisoners, indirectly supporting the Nazis, or you help neither. In the case of the former, you're writing off the innocent prisoners, claiming them as casualties of a cold war. Only if the Nazis have a conscience would it bother them to see the prisoners dying without the aid. But the Nazis weren't even torturing the prisoners to attract aid. They were doing it as part of their whole superior race philosophy. Whether or not aid had come, they would have continued carrying out their experiments. In my (humble) opinion, I think the Red Cross did what it had to--carried out the moral imperative to help, as the lesser evil when compared to leaving them to their own devices in the concentration camps.<br />
<br />
I do think though, that Polman has a point with the journalists. It's easy to fall into line with the hope-bringing humanitarians--it seems like a black and white issue, a cause for which it's easy to rally. So even "neutral" journalists fall victim to biased reporting, favoring the humanitarian side. But I think that too, reflects a side of human nature...to pick compassion over manipulation or persecution. It's this tendency to side with "compassion" that makes this particular article (which doesn't exactly do that) so provocative.<br />
<br />
It makes me a little uncomfortable to read, "Had it not been for the West's charity, the Nigerian civil war surely would have ended much sooner." (I suppose that's the point.) But it's hard to weigh one life against another...you're basically asked to choose between saving the lives of those hurt by the war, or saving the lives of those hurt by extended war (allegedly due to helping those hurt by the war). If you were the daughter or husband or mother of someone hurt by the war, you would unhesitatingly advocate for that patient, regardless of the pain it might bring to however many others. But as unconnected spectators, it's easier to be utilitarian about it and just count the number dead, choosing the smaller number.<br />
<br />
As far as the inspiration behind humanitarianism...yes, it does in part, come about because people have lost faith in economic and political avenues to help, but i think you also need to consider the distinct strengths and interests of individuals. Physicians are more likely to advocate for clinical interventions; human rights activists for political change, etc. I can't remember...I think it was with UNICEF that there were the shifts between prioritizing clinical interventions (like ORS and immunizations) or political advocacy to help other countries...when one was prioritized, the players for the other team criticized. There was the whole Carol Bellamy critique in the Lancet and such. When human rights were prioritized, physicians criticized the politicians for ignoring the dying babies as they awaited political change. When clinical interventions were prioritized, the rights activists criticized the physicians for ignoring, and perhaps abetting, the corrupt regime behind the cause for the deaths. Same argument played over and over again.<br />
<br />
I think the base argument that's brought up is optimism vs practicality. But you need both, and it's important for there to be individuals fighting for both sides. Imperfect people make imperfect decisions in less-than-ideal situations. As long as people have the conviction to make the tough decisions, someone somewhere will be helped...and inevitably, someone else will be hurt. So. Maybe it comes down to who has the stronger advocates.<br />
</div>Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11907875832047377609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7617430187853050083.post-85296593492094542592010-11-21T20:29:00.000-08:002010-11-26T20:50:17.465-08:00<style>
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<div class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrA7H_539mxWK-actTR4DiShGO-9I5cmaa5V4taGafKPqAfEz0F-YAe1scLYI6fEH90NV3wru5mMcP6HpMFgx8vyjVVgRpa_kU3oe1oYxRv5mZ9g7OQguLLUk0fzbsikZi8nlj8NksijAa/s1600/DSCN2918.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrA7H_539mxWK-actTR4DiShGO-9I5cmaa5V4taGafKPqAfEz0F-YAe1scLYI6fEH90NV3wru5mMcP6HpMFgx8vyjVVgRpa_kU3oe1oYxRv5mZ9g7OQguLLUk0fzbsikZi8nlj8NksijAa/s320/DSCN2918.JPG" width="320" /></a>Spent the last couple days in Guatemala working with a gringo group of physicians and nurses with varying Spanish-speaking abilities. Adjusting to their working style took a little effort. Ignoring Vicente (the head promoter), they went about setting up an intake, discharge, and patient stations. They (of course) assumed I was an indigenous Mayan Guatemalan (because apparently dark-skinned individuals don’t exist in Minnesota, and my adidas-heavy outfit is pretty typical of indigenous attire) and complimented me on my English. haha. They assigned Shom (first year resident, med school at Northwestern, been working here for several years and is fluent in Kaqchikel, the indigenous language) to translate for one of the physicians. When we brought up the point that it would be a waste of skills to have a physician translate for a physician, the jefe replied, “Well we have a protocol. Just follow the protocol. We need you to translate.” Whatevs. Estos gringos. Never consider the fact that they might have something to learn from the cultures they visit.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">When I had hit my threshold of gringoness, I stepped out to scope the view. La tormenta Agatha (back in June-ish) carved out an entire canyon next to San Juan, where we had set up our clinic. Standing over this landscape, I couldn’t help but notice how stunning it was—all the green, the new river, the waterfalls—carved out by water. Pretty impressive.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">There are a lot of things I love about Guatemala, including traditions, foods, the lake, etc. These are my top five in no particular order:</div><br />
<ol><li>The alfombras of Semana Santa: making them, seeing them, everything.</li>
<li>“Salud, Dinero, Amor”: When someone sneezes, instead of saying, “Bless you,” or some equivalent, you say “salud” for the first sneeze, followed by dinero and amor for the next sneezes.</li>
<li>Being greeted with a kiss: All the men greet the women with a kiss on the cheek. Old-fashioned, maybe, but super sweet.</li>
<li>El Mercado: Despite the craziness and the raw meat, the colors, fruits, veggies, people are always varied and interesting. The fruits and veggies available depend on the season. Delicious</li>
<li>Chiltepe--these tiny green chilis that pack a decent punch </li>
</ol><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiOREtXlVgl_AjCZfUcYunYJA1r8nmIE7ekFiaVVxBB4s0RYE8IoYmFATGHgBeyCs_PuWnqJXeRTskXi2H3BmNiwq3c_AlJQzP4T7zrX7O4fxoNdgmq_OnJHUpHZU6g6_gQsWgfG9Yw5FG/s1600/DSCN3307.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiOREtXlVgl_AjCZfUcYunYJA1r8nmIE7ekFiaVVxBB4s0RYE8IoYmFATGHgBeyCs_PuWnqJXeRTskXi2H3BmNiwq3c_AlJQzP4T7zrX7O4fxoNdgmq_OnJHUpHZU6g6_gQsWgfG9Yw5FG/s320/DSCN3307.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11907875832047377609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7617430187853050083.post-35951027304083464332010-11-18T20:57:00.000-08:002010-11-26T20:49:05.580-08:00El primer paso<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><style>
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</style><span style="font-size: small;">Being the old person that I am, I avoided starting a blog for the longest time, despite several requests to do so. But in an effort to avoid spamming the inboxes of those who thought they wanted to read about the minute details of my adventures, but then realized they didn’t quite have the time, I’ve decided to join the crowd. This’ll be a sort of record of my thoughts as I travel the world. Feel free to tune in and out as you please. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Arrived in Guatemala yesterday, marking what I think is my seventh time here. When I first came after freshman year I had no idea it’d turn into an epic series of adventures. Yet here I am trying to roll my r’s as I dole out vitamins and eat things I probably should have sanitized first. But, knock on wood, I have yet to get the gringo illness, so maybe I’m actually immunizing myself against the real awful amebas.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI_H4OHvRAAYj2yRTP-4rWfIWfwxogI_baekQfRPD_h1d0HwRUtKnfZCJcbxFft82P4_cYeDXLCWyczgAU-JZKMXfmYkw5x0rK5wX8mWknU6OFlW_s-DJMS_nlvq190NIOtC_V8FJerpse/s1600/DSCN2938.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI_H4OHvRAAYj2yRTP-4rWfIWfwxogI_baekQfRPD_h1d0HwRUtKnfZCJcbxFft82P4_cYeDXLCWyczgAU-JZKMXfmYkw5x0rK5wX8mWknU6OFlW_s-DJMS_nlvq190NIOtC_V8FJerpse/s320/DSCN2938.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSxdQ5HDtrcTUC3ny01cPsM-Oq6rrO3az5Nm4xgr1-9XX82l4T8MO-I_eprkqJxI7ziVddRnLnKgYit70Nk3GFHR0sE7zvhKbb_SIQ-W2Q4fa2lbcBDwdFNBcScCeiYhkP61WAypkp2NwO/s1600/DSCN4032.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSxdQ5HDtrcTUC3ny01cPsM-Oq6rrO3az5Nm4xgr1-9XX82l4T8MO-I_eprkqJxI7ziVddRnLnKgYit70Nk3GFHR0sE7zvhKbb_SIQ-W2Q4fa2lbcBDwdFNBcScCeiYhkP61WAypkp2NwO/s320/DSCN4032.JPG" width="320" /></a></span> <br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrMlwCnZtxYfvt58Ehu9rUROmN6cJYHNGj-Dl4xA5u9_92sMHA7pRbSSXNl8Dj93g3Op8vuOkoylSGme91cwJCJ_-FY5LzPr6aUKaEUcv9R22q7XyhI7yqLTl3W7gBS5ZFxzSYwf9tpsnD/s1600/DSCN4040.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrMlwCnZtxYfvt58Ehu9rUROmN6cJYHNGj-Dl4xA5u9_92sMHA7pRbSSXNl8Dj93g3Op8vuOkoylSGme91cwJCJ_-FY5LzPr6aUKaEUcv9R22q7XyhI7yqLTl3W7gBS5ZFxzSYwf9tpsnD/s320/DSCN4040.JPG" width="320" /></a></span><span style="font-size: small;">Every time I come back, the scenery around me catches my breath. The shades of green and blue, red and orange are stunning. Now, since the big storms, a lot of the greenery is punctuated by massive boulders and other rocky items. The main road in and out of San Lucas is a bit unsound, structurally speaking—there are signs that tell you so: cross at your own risk. Those chicken buses and pickups rumble across anyway, so I figure I’ll be fine. Someone actually painted a rock shaped like Snoopy’s head, like Snoopy. Pretty funny. I’ll have to try to grab a pic of that one…</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The weather here is pretty crazy. Summer’s starting—all the kids are on vacation and it’s not monsooning anymore. It’s been crazy windy all evening, though. The lamina (aluminum roofs) keep flopping up and down. A portion of the roof over my room actually slid down into the street. Good thing it’s not raining or I might wake up in a small pond. Despite the wind, I took the fam out for ice cream—less than eight bucks for nine people. Ridic. We also stopped to drop off my poorly translated version of Paradise Lost for one of the cousins. There are whole chunks that I had no idea how to translate into Spanish, so I just gave a general synopsis of what I thought was happening in those twenty lines. Ha. They have them reading Hamlet, too, and translating legal documents. I can name about ten people who speak English as their native language who have trouble understanding those…I now appreciate the Spanish Lit I took way back when.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The intense poverty here still amazes me. Every time I see an old man hobbling down the stony roads with swollen and callused over bare feet, I come close to offering my Nikes. Every time I see a two year old covered in dirt and tattered clothing, with hair turned red from malnutrition, I wish I could pull an Angelina and just take him home with me. Every time I see a woman doubled over under the weight of a load of produce or wood, I have to resist the urge to offer to carry it. Same goes for the ten year old boys alongside their aging fathers barely standing under the huge stack of firewood. A part of me wants to idealize everything: Oh, look at these men bringing home wood for their families, where hot coffee and warm tortillas are waiting. But really. That’s ridiculous. I wish I could fix the world. One malnourished kid at a time. And still come home to my bug-free bed and nice hot shower. Ain't called the third world for nothin</span></div>Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11907875832047377609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7617430187853050083.post-34201962983267515142010-06-10T20:50:00.000-07:002011-04-14T12:46:46.243-07:00Running it back<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">If I haven't kept you up via email, I'm including some of the emails I've sent out...those I could find anyway. In case I reference something from these emails, or you're just interested...</span></span><br />
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<div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">So, I´ve been here for four days now and am settling in nicely. No bug or spider bites yet. That would be a record for me. You should see how wrapped up I am before I go to bed so as to hide any biteable skin. haha.<br />
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This whole week is Semana Santa, a time of fiestas and procesiones for easter and Christ´s resurrection, and all that biblical stuff I know embarrassingly little about. It´s pretty crazy. Everyone lines the streets with colored wood chips and beautiful flowers--birds of paradise, lilies, roses, tulips, carnations--stunning presentation. People dress up in what I think are supposed to represent the outfits of the Hebrews, the Roman soldiers, and other related important people. All the kids are out of school so they can participate in the processions and help their families make the alfombras (the ¨rugs¨of wood chips and flowers) that decorate the street. <span class="Object" id="OBJ_PREFIX_DWT41"><span class="Object" id="OBJ_PREFIX_DWT42">Yesterday</span></span>, we took the fam to Antigua, my favorite city in Guatemala. It´s generally really touristy, but this time the locals dominated because of the Semana Santa festivities. We watched as hundreds of purple-robed ¨Hebrews¨marched down the quaint cobblestone streets, shouldering a massive float of sorts, upon which Jesus and other important religious figures <span class="Object" id="OBJ_PREFIX_DWT43"><span class="Object" id="OBJ_PREFIX_DWT44">sat</span></span>.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhySvs1NV5rVzppeiqGmKKxMsJlaU-imHlE7Jki47qhbItSRxKywJTsw4mLXqVakbBAt2gBkBbsbILseiQ-jzUT-4pBGT13fACADHjPhvhnZw4CHJpboDIruT0NCiM89FcJ1-rV1Ya0Boh3/s1600/DSCN2833.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhySvs1NV5rVzppeiqGmKKxMsJlaU-imHlE7Jki47qhbItSRxKywJTsw4mLXqVakbBAt2gBkBbsbILseiQ-jzUT-4pBGT13fACADHjPhvhnZw4CHJpboDIruT0NCiM89FcJ1-rV1Ya0Boh3/s320/DSCN2833.JPG" width="240" /></a></span></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixfaI7YgAg824QvzXA6zWqvqL2Yj7FMCkoFnOXok5emSqG1YARnNXqt3XYnZ7CMbWHzJ1YhNtR-YFO8uoyxohOt58fkyz_h12AQ4ggRX7mpN8n1UiGlKLWbbs1twSSbBwDAtFhGv2MyfM3/s1600/DSCN2836.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixfaI7YgAg824QvzXA6zWqvqL2Yj7FMCkoFnOXok5emSqG1YARnNXqt3XYnZ7CMbWHzJ1YhNtR-YFO8uoyxohOt58fkyz_h12AQ4ggRX7mpN8n1UiGlKLWbbs1twSSbBwDAtFhGv2MyfM3/s320/DSCN2836.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">an example of the alfombras in Antigua</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu2VdC7hyoIuwQDGYmxpt008rmig3Ew8vTCLxmE37J5Yu1lhIzwYZjEi4lFqOoRMjpgzvsQTQiEdEgbi_pyHYKxT4a0SVCOQOVb-bnK-c-FNqWlJ3hdHqKWqm6Cd8PRoNhPtggpO3bT90G/s1600/DSCN2842.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu2VdC7hyoIuwQDGYmxpt008rmig3Ew8vTCLxmE37J5Yu1lhIzwYZjEi4lFqOoRMjpgzvsQTQiEdEgbi_pyHYKxT4a0SVCOQOVb-bnK-c-FNqWlJ3hdHqKWqm6Cd8PRoNhPtggpO3bT90G/s320/DSCN2842.JPG" width="240" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Chris, a close fam friend, was visiting, too </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCFZ1HEo-wPUNcki5h3wtotLUzWelKJI62IgPIhhy_Ut-BjqYGiHWG45aODg62y0Fp5gUdfDxDdInDkEXK5ow1wufXyw7kif1aKUQ164g6b98-ke87MmuQjOSnEU8nOJyniv9hOH30Ok8c/s1600/DSCN2855.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCFZ1HEo-wPUNcki5h3wtotLUzWelKJI62IgPIhhy_Ut-BjqYGiHWG45aODg62y0Fp5gUdfDxDdInDkEXK5ow1wufXyw7kif1aKUQ164g6b98-ke87MmuQjOSnEU8nOJyniv9hOH30Ok8c/s320/DSCN2855.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Jesus (I think) carrying the cross</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Afterwards, we ate at my favorite Antigua cafe--Cafe Condesa--so named because legend has it that the building used to be a national palace of sorts where an important count lived. One day he returned early from a trip to find his wife (la condesa) in bed with the butler. Enraged, the count buried the butler in the walls of the palace. Several years later, after the earthquakes left Antigua in ruins, workers found the skeleton of the butler (or so they say) standing upright in the walls of what had been the pantry. Good story, I know. Anyway, the restaurant has these gorgeous gardens with fountains and colorful flowers. And of course, the food is great. They make the best Rosa de Jamaica. If you ever set foot in Antigua, this should definitely be a stop.</span></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> <span class="Object" id="OBJ_PREFIX_DWT45">Today</span>, we got up at 6 with the roosters (damn, those things are loud in the morning). San Lucas is settled on the shores of Lafe Atitlan, amidst several volcanoes, some still active. There´s one volcano that has a bit of a plateu-ish top. It sits next to a much smaller, pointier hill. The locals call the hill Cerro de Oro (Hill of Gold), and say that it is the top of the larger flattened volcano that´s been blown off.</span></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
We rented a little boat and went across the lake (gorgeous), and visited some of the surrounding cities. Some of these looked a lot like Capri, an old town built right into the slopes of the mountains, on the coast. We also stopped to swim in these natural hot springs on the edge of the lake. The volcanic rock heats up the water, which is pretty cool.</span><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">San Lucas has been pretty busy with the craziness of Semana Santa. The family I live with occupies about a quarter of a block, so our alfombra was pretty large. We spent all day <span class="Object" id="OBJ_PREFIX_DWT49"><span class="Object" id="OBJ_PREFIX_DWT50">Thursday</span></span> separating flower petals, and different kinds of plants that I had never seen before. The colors were stunning when put together in the huge stencils made of wood. I´ll send pictures when I get back to the states.</span></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">It was really fun putting it together, because the entire family comes out--grandfathers, cousins, nephews, and nieces, with an age range spanning from 65 to 2 years. Other families put alfombras together made of fruit, colored sawdust, and various plants. The whole pueblo was so festive. The processions lasted from about 8pm til about 2:30 in the morning. I don´t know how they stay up all night, two nights in a row. It´s an interesting tradition. Kids walk out in front, waving some sort of metal container with this crazy-smelling incense in it. Lots of smoke, and a scent I can associate with nothing else but Semana Santa. Epic music blares from random speakers, making the reeealllyyy sloowww procession seem a bit magnanimous. </span><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Chico (Francisco), born with a cleft palate, but had reconstructive surgery</span></td></tr>
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</span></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="Object" id="OBJ_PREFIX_DWT51"><span class="Object" id="OBJ_PREFIX_DWT52">Today</span></span>´s procession was a bit more upbeat, though. With Christ´s resurrection, I suppose the paraders are allowed to be a bit more excited about life. haha. I´m glad I was able to be here for the week, though. I´ve never seen anything like it. All the Evangelical churches (or any non-Catholic churches) play their music really loud during all of the semana santa business. It´s sorta like they´re competing with the craziness of the Catholic party. haha.</span></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Other than that, I´ve just been out swimming in the lake, kayaking, and running. I was actually running up this one path <span class="Object" id="OBJ_PREFIX_DWT53"><span class="Object" id="OBJ_PREFIX_DWT54">yesterday</span></span> that leads up to the volcano...accidentally scraped against some barbed wire. Haha. The perils of running in Guate...Every morning, we go for a walk with Don Angel...he´s 60 some years but doesn´t look a day over 50. Whenever we hike anywhere, he always leads (partly because he knows the way, partly because I hate running into the spiderwebs, and partly because he´s in amazing shape). It´s neat to hear all his random stories about different places and people.</span></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">There´s one spot on the main road called Paso Misterioso. If you stop the car in the right spot, or pour some liquid there, it´ll begin to roll uphill on its own. Que extraño. I´m still tryna figure out why it does that. Haha<br />
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Oh! I saw my first shooting star the other night! It was really exciting. haha. Jenny (my little sister´s Spanish-speaking counterpart), Chris, and I were lying out on the dock down by the lake, trying to find constellations and stay awake during the procession...then a bright light streaked across the sky and we all turned to each other: Lo viste?? Haha. pretty cool. Speaking of Jenny, I might get to be her madrina, or godmother. That would be pretty neat...I´m honored they thought of me. Makes me feel special. haha. She´s a great kid who´s been through a lot. When she talks to me about her kind of abusive dad and stepmom, I forget she´s only ten years old. The kids here are all so much more mature than I´m used to seeing in the states. It´s like they fastforward through development out of a necessity to survive and help out the family. It´s...interesting and eye-opening.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWwh22EwhScfslcmuByQ55bf9_3nnYKswNtk0D2FpWCj24fVqrxKfcdOa31NBFG4ZuiekSzkVCrkzaptcBLZJKbRA18vXb0gyaQgK_cFRjPtL7cmQ7p70LXi40kvJfkSENrBVxQbQMA8I5/s1600/DSCN3046.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWwh22EwhScfslcmuByQ55bf9_3nnYKswNtk0D2FpWCj24fVqrxKfcdOa31NBFG4ZuiekSzkVCrkzaptcBLZJKbRA18vXb0gyaQgK_cFRjPtL7cmQ7p70LXi40kvJfkSENrBVxQbQMA8I5/s320/DSCN3046.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Wórk´s going well so far. We found a woman the other day who might have TB. Went to see her, figured out she´s been coughing for seven months now, has a newborn, and can´t breastfeed. So, we brought some formula for the baby, and ended up bringing her up to the parish clinic. When we left <span class="Object" id="OBJ_PREFIX_DWT55"><span class="Object" id="OBJ_PREFIX_DWT56">this morning</span></span>, she was looking a lot better, able to speak in sentences and such. Hopefully, when the doctors come back <span class="Object" id="OBJ_PREFIX_DWT57"><span class="Object" id="OBJ_PREFIX_DWT58">tomorrow</span></span>, we´ll figure out whether or not it is TB. She´s from a community where that hasn´t been TB, so I´m crossing my fingers that the tests´ll come back negative. Otherwise, we´re gonna have some damage control to do, public-health-wise.<br />
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<span class="Object" id="OBJ_PREFIX_DWT59">Tomorrow</span>, we´ll start going out to the pueblos, working on the follow-up surveys. We were doing some data entry <span class="Object" id="OBJ_PREFIX_DWT60"><span class="Object" id="OBJ_PREFIX_DWT61">last night</span></span> (dull), and realized that there are a lot of kids suffering from third degree malnutrition. So, we´re going to track them down asap and get some supplementary nutrition to them...try to pull them back up. Hopefully, we can help a bit.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPENlhSPnkO7cEwx_RfV6Ntbc6_Km_FsiHVV1Ij3ArknhQInpQ0XFuL0AjUhNuyi5JUWTKp-117u-JJRt8MpxJcRZKQF1rJ2Qw7U7Pc0_OaywupZaj14r5hXa-LahOvACdFAs7md6WHZ5x/s1600/DSCN3048.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPENlhSPnkO7cEwx_RfV6Ntbc6_Km_FsiHVV1Ij3ArknhQInpQ0XFuL0AjUhNuyi5JUWTKp-117u-JJRt8MpxJcRZKQF1rJ2Qw7U7Pc0_OaywupZaj14r5hXa-LahOvACdFAs7md6WHZ5x/s320/DSCN3048.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuq_GSJmYWqFjBU6FdRUhGfsfY_NwQmAmdF33fA9G4O4YXY-nN8Np9C_IITwq5PQsZ5lQL33CUilPnOPHCSUnS_jMrez3NMDijOiDM0KOBcBGbf15Ma7lXtlYhUTsM0gk28Kgzcx1cuIGu/s1600/DSCN3056.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuq_GSJmYWqFjBU6FdRUhGfsfY_NwQmAmdF33fA9G4O4YXY-nN8Np9C_IITwq5PQsZ5lQL33CUilPnOPHCSUnS_jMrez3NMDijOiDM0KOBcBGbf15Ma7lXtlYhUTsM0gk28Kgzcx1cuIGu/s320/DSCN3056.JPG" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWrNjCW-npz7AxRQY1HdpKT_zDR0GhO5yH7BHyccHTIRm7o-A6F-YIw4pYxW_XHtZEqbW8hcFggV2cAmOuEqPPqg24i5lP1L56FAXpZeFvYnXIcULz8Wt8XNZZY2egsLcUlnOK1EZyPSWl/s1600/DSCN3052.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWrNjCW-npz7AxRQY1HdpKT_zDR0GhO5yH7BHyccHTIRm7o-A6F-YIw4pYxW_XHtZEqbW8hcFggV2cAmOuEqPPqg24i5lP1L56FAXpZeFvYnXIcULz8Wt8XNZZY2egsLcUlnOK1EZyPSWl/s320/DSCN3052.JPG" width="320" /></a></span><span style="font-size: small;">Judging from the emails, I should probably back up a few steps and provide you with some background. This is my fourth time in Guatemala, working on various public health issues. This time, I´ll be here until<span class="Object" id="OBJ_PREFIX_DWT71"> May 4</span>, working with a medical student on a child malnutrition project. She´s just graduated from Stanford Med and will be starting her residency program in Boston in June. So, I´m here to learn everything about the project because I´ll be taking it over once she leaves. The project is a surveillance and intervention program aimed at children under 5 (who have higher risk of death from malnutrition). We work with health promoters (a group of local volunteers set up by the parroquia--parish--to serve as community leaders, promoting the health of their neighbors and such), walking house to house, weighing children and measuring their height, along with gathering other information regarding their health and health environment. All this data eventually ends up back at Stanford for complex statistical analysis that I know nothing about. This month, we´re working with the promoters to conduct the first 2-month seguimiento, or follow-up. We had a couple meetings this week with them...more about that later.</span><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
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While in Guatemala, Asya (the med student) and I live with Don Angel and his family in San Lucas Toliman. Angel is a long-time friend of Paul Wise, who some of you may know. Paul has sort of taken me under his wing because for some odd reason, he sees potential in me. Anyway, Angel´s crib is pretty posh for rural Guatemala. We have running water, a flushing toilet that´s not in the dark, and a water heater in the shower that works most of the time. Angel´s kids are all grown up, working as accountants and such (a popular field for educated guatemaltecos). His youngest is 19 and lives here in San Lucas. The rest work in Guatemala city and come home on the weekends. Flor, his youngest daughter is going to med school in the city, which is pretty cool, given that she´s of Mayan descent. Á sort of rift persists in Guatemala between the Ladinos and the indigenous Mayan population, with the Mayans often being discriminated against. Flor says that on the few occasions that she has worn the traditional Mayan outfit in the city, people look at her weird and she´s treated differently. So, props to flor for getting through med school. Angel has several nieces and nephews as well. One, Jenny, is exactly like my little sister, Cassie. Her mannerisms and everything. She´s promised to fill in for Cassie while I´m here cuz I miss her so much. haha.<br />
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San Lucas is a pretty comfortable, quiet little town, and owes much of its development to the parroquia. Several volunteers come throughout the year through the church. This is both good and bad--it brings in a lot of money for the community and allows programs like the promotores de salud and the clinic to keep functioning, but it also brings in a lot of people who know little about the culture and can often be condescending, whether inadvertently or not. But you know, everyone wants to feel fulfilled by doing their part, so as long as the benefits (aka money) they bring outweigh the harms, I´m not one to criticize.</span></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI14v4mGhekKCIQEaLtBRd2rtfXgUWkRWMxSiHsYSCN6uGcn6iIAe8sV5DUrJnTNoXaciIbSU-0XtmUIuhyl4Mf8WrZ39SNHGfhFFv9ILpmJp39-p8EEVjUKABxUJI368FhaxZ0SXMoxHE/s1600/DSCN3078.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI14v4mGhekKCIQEaLtBRd2rtfXgUWkRWMxSiHsYSCN6uGcn6iIAe8sV5DUrJnTNoXaciIbSU-0XtmUIuhyl4Mf8WrZ39SNHGfhFFv9ILpmJp39-p8EEVjUKABxUJI368FhaxZ0SXMoxHE/s320/DSCN3078.JPG" width="320" /></a></span><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
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As for the meetings we´ve had with the promoteres, they´ve been mostly successful. There´s this cultural thing that drives me insane. Most of you probably know how OCD I can be about making things efficient. Well, these meetings are anything but. The first meeting we had on <span class="Object" id="OBJ_PREFIX_DWT72"><span class="Object" id="OBJ_PREFIX_DWT73">Monday</span></span> was with the two head promoters, Dominga and Vicente. They´re both great people who have dedicated a lot of time and effort into improving the health of their communities. (Side note: these communities are made up of many of the indigineous families that used to work on the fincas--coffee plantations--but have now moved onto plots of land bought by the parroquia. Good: they have a decent home in which to live and aren´t overpowered by the finca owners. Bad: everything done here becomes a power struggle with the parroquia, including our nutrition project. Families are often poor, but somehow, make it through) Anyway, Asya and I met with D and V to talk about the plan for this month. It took us 3 hours to figure out our agenda for our <span class="Object" id="OBJ_PREFIX_DWT74"><span class="Object" id="OBJ_PREFIX_DWT75">Tuesday</span></span> meeting with all the promoters, and the budget for the next year. three. hours. Every point made is made in a roundabout manner, often beginning with a compliment of sorts, some sort of brief apology, and then the point. Maybe. And given that Spanish is not my first language, it takes an impressive amount of concentration for me to stay in the conversation. That, together with my already spotty attention span in English, doesn´t bode well. I´ll have to work on that attention span thing. Anyway, on<span class="Object" id="OBJ_PREFIX_DWT76"> Tuesday</span>, we met with all the promoters, covering 6 points over five hours. Four people reiterated how important it was to have this follow-up surveillance project, and three others thanked us for actually doing something about the malnutrition issue, instead of just talking about ideas. En realidad, it´s the promoters who are making this all possible, which we of course said....Anyway, they´re a hardworking group of people, but they can talk and repetition of talking points is a regular occurrence. I´m supposed to lead the next meeting, and am worried that I won´t be able to gracefully walk the line between being culturally sensitive yet efficient, and being rude and pushy. haha. especially with my not so suave spanish. I have to confess, I´m a little nervous about taking this project over. It´s a huge program, affecting a lot of families (we work with about 1200), and involves a lot of coordination between moneybanks in the states, the parroquia, the doctors here, and the health promoters. When Asya was introducing me as her replacement for next year, explaining all that I would be doing, I was intimidated by the simple job description. So, wish me luck! ha.<br />
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Other than those meetings, what we´ve been doing is a lot of data entry of the surveys done while we were gone so that they can be included in the analysis at Stanford. In a word, dull. But that´s what undergrads are for, right? haha. Next week, after Semana Santa, we´ll be starting the village visits for the seguimiento. Should be interesting<br />
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On a more fun note...after that long five hour meeting, Chris and I rented kayaks and went out on the lago for a couple hours. (Chris is another dude staying with Angel. He lived here in San Lucas for 8 months a couple years ago. He´s been in Thailand and Korea since, but is originally from Minnesota...I think. Pretty cool guy. Nice to have someone to speak English with when my brain esta cansada.) The lake is absolutely gorgeous. There are all these little chalets tucked away into<br />
little corners of the volcanoes and mountains. Maybe one day I´ll come back and buy one. haha. It was pretty hot <span class="Object" id="OBJ_PREFIX_DWT77"><span class="Object" id="OBJ_PREFIX_DWT78">yesterday</span></span>, so despite the risk of getting amoebas from the water, we went for a delicious swim. The water´s really clear, but I have yet to find the bottom. Maybe by May...<br />
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Guatemala´s a lot like Maui, but a Maui undiscovered and thus largely untouched by commercialism and tourism. There are definitely areas that cater to gringos with gringo-friendly restaurants, many internet cafes, lots of English signs, and tour coordinators. But many of these tend to be directed to tourists on smaller budgets than those in Maui--mostly students, your average hippie, and children of the world...or whatever they call themselves. An interesting bunch of people. But Guate is still gorgeous. So much greenery everywhere you go. The coffee plants are all in bloom right now. Dark green leafy plants with little white flowers. Later on, green coffee seeds will grow, and eventually turn bright red when ready for picking. These are then dried and deshelled, roasted, and ground up for your coffee-drinking pleasure.<br />
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<span class="Object" id="OBJ_PREFIX_DWT79">This morning</span>, we actually took a boat across the lake to Pana, and hiked for four hours around the lake. The miradas were stunning. Blue water, lots of lush greenery, and no insects. Well, I did get one bite, but that doesn´t really count. It was a sunny day, and the hike was awesome. We went through ten lakeside pueblos, some more touristy than others. After our hike, we took a boat back to San Lucas from our last stop in San Pedro...or I think it was San pedro. haha. I fell asleep on the roof of the boat, and will probably wake up sore and burned <span class="Object" id="OBJ_PREFIX_DWT80"><span class="Object" id="OBJ_PREFIX_DWT81">tomorrow</span></span>. But it was well worth the hike. I only wish the pictures could capture the grandeur of the volcanoes and the lake. Speaking of which, I plan to hike up one of the volcanoes before I leave. It´s a two day hike, so I´m working on convincing Asya to do it with me...the views are supposed to be some of the best in Guatemala. I also plan on hiking up Cerro de Oro, which is shaped like an elephant...should be fun.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8o-BPG3O15-RQXWIPs2m1u176I2IKaoC9Kg6ki4RYmXO8oggtRtTwzOrDo6xkPJB3T8djFFo2StAC6cAkbV_NBaqVeH2YbYX1RAi1gcIj1bJ87kfUYakn8Pm5m_Z19Y09OEiA5mHOzITg/s1600/DSCN2892.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8o-BPG3O15-RQXWIPs2m1u176I2IKaoC9Kg6ki4RYmXO8oggtRtTwzOrDo6xkPJB3T8djFFo2StAC6cAkbV_NBaqVeH2YbYX1RAi1gcIj1bJ87kfUYakn8Pm5m_Z19Y09OEiA5mHOzITg/s320/DSCN2892.JPG" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtb2VI2nhxqA1rUonxwZrhwn0I3oTDG89jF-8KUK1OdtCD-7sNdSjvl5BmmoGS8KTyDDhNhCZcVrAxcjIRT3gywzx1FaU-EX1UfWiXIx_Y_FXSiJas06HzuuxjAqiY3aFMXsMlUK_UnT12/s1600/DSCN2893.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtb2VI2nhxqA1rUonxwZrhwn0I3oTDG89jF-8KUK1OdtCD-7sNdSjvl5BmmoGS8KTyDDhNhCZcVrAxcjIRT3gywzx1FaU-EX1UfWiXIx_Y_FXSiJas06HzuuxjAqiY3aFMXsMlUK_UnT12/s320/DSCN2893.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaCwKDvEOPFe6cZ0h2Lxpb9T1QpbW9GoHUH17nXH5nTypAqR2FuHz3xxl2AyBRQEDdbDfNIpT3ci4qbFW6LjfqhyphenhyphenM-6uZRU5kDX5vYqY2bqerfvmiHJsOlDHwKXkDt5wTLWvVXyAySEmjo/s1600/DSCN2921.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaCwKDvEOPFe6cZ0h2Lxpb9T1QpbW9GoHUH17nXH5nTypAqR2FuHz3xxl2AyBRQEDdbDfNIpT3ci4qbFW6LjfqhyphenhyphenM-6uZRU5kDX5vYqY2bqerfvmiHJsOlDHwKXkDt5wTLWvVXyAySEmjo/s200/DSCN2921.JPG" width="200" /></a></span><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
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</span></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCrhg7BGNXHg_OCSjA1xDZD4XCJHTHHpSNcmuCGgrKEOn-20y3UTWf1YLJpv2OpNaUx7pGSXeNtilUXU2lj_21UL1fm5WpYfzP90n1mmEp6u4lRsBRMXc89DlTcw1tzqTcb34q0XVKs99F/s1600/DSCN3113.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvWy-Cm5UrZV5-PlpKYOpvSunmvtReB2sMK_zJdn3JAWMTVRHbmgLgOJTRyadIp24QODQ11XTxpbqwF5WL6hZ8Lx6bRwYmOWpDNpZwFRZ3gM6qSTHpJCEsBv43gpS0-GYs0TibIKZNHDor/s200/DSCN3111.JPG" width="150" /></a></span><span style="font-size: small;">Semana Santa´s about to get crazy here in San Lucas. Everyone´s out in the streets building the alfombras and various arcas to hang in the streets. <span class="Object" id="OBJ_PREFIX_DWT82"><span class="Object" id="OBJ_PREFIX_DWT83">Last night</span></span>, there was some celebration for Mashimon, a saint (I think) that is a sort of amalgam of Catholic and Mayan religions. He´s this life-sized figure that has a bed, a wardrobe, and his own little house (with caretakers). He likes liquor, cigarettes, and other unchurchly things...strange, I know. People come to him when they want someone to get better from an illness, make more money, want revenge on someone...all kinds of things....Some of their donations go toward funding this party they have every year, where they actually pour moonshine down Mashimon´s chest, I guess...put a cigarette in his mouth, dance and just engage in various acts of debauchery. I can´t dance, especially not marimba and the other popular dances of Latin America, so I was trying really hard to stay on the sidelines. But the tias in the family eventually dragged me out on the dance floor, mostly to keep the borrachos from talking to me. Marimba´s actually not as hard as I thought. But I still deny the ability to dance.<br />
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Anyway, it´s about time I get back to the house. We´re putting together the family´s alfombra today and <span class="Object" id="OBJ_PREFIX_DWT84"><span class="Object" id="OBJ_PREFIX_DWT85">tomorrow</span></span>, in time for the processions which will start <span class="Object" id="OBJ_PREFIX_DWT86"><span class="Object" id="OBJ_PREFIX_DWT87">tomorrow</span></span> afternoon. The kids will do one at 2pm, and the adults will start at 8pm, ending at 3am. This will happen again on<span class="Object" id="OBJ_PREFIX_DWT88"> Friday</span> and <span class="Object" id="OBJ_PREFIX_DWT89"><span class="Object" id="OBJ_PREFIX_DWT90">Saturday</span></span> night. No, they don´t sleep around here during Semana Santa. Should be interesting.<br />
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San Lucas is great. Gorgeous, quiet (sometimes), and very family-oriented. Every time I come back to guate, I fall in love with it all over again. Hopefully that won´t change when I take over this project. haha<br />
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I´ve been pretty busy here in Guatemala. The other weekend, we traveled out to Santa Lucia, a coast town. There were some pretty cool centuries old ruins. Some of the massive stone carvings were only partially unearthed. There was also this neat old church in a really old, sorta creepy cemetery. Very Tomb Raideresque. Minus Angelina. </span></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Chicken buses still amaze me. Aside from the driver, there's usually one other dude who sits up front (he collects the money) on an overturned `paint bucket (the really big, 10 gallon ones...or something like it). The doors never close (Id be surprised if they weren't stuck open), but surprisingly, I have yet to see one of them dudes tip over and out the bus headlong. Given the way the drivers haul ass up the carretera, they must have some crazy core strength.<br />
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As for foods, I´ve gotten a little braver (or a little careless) and have tried a whole bunch of fruits and veggies ive never seen before. There are at least 4 types of mangoes here, all of which are eaten differently (I think I already talked about them, though). There are also mutilple types of bananas. Bananitos (aka bananos de oro) are these pint sized things (about 1/3 the size of a regular one), much sweeter, and awesome. There´s also this other fruit that I can´t remember the name<br />
of, but it tastes like a bunch of different fruits put together. Interesting. <span class="Object" id="OBJ_PREFIX_DWT113"><span class="Object" id="OBJ_PREFIX_DWT114">Yesterday</span></span>, I had ceviche at the market too...Ive heard bad things about ceviche off the street, but it looked so good I couldn't resist. So far, so good. No Cipro for me. Yet.<br />
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The market here, btw, is crazy. If there´s anything that would make me go vegetarian, it would be the mercado. I decided to accompany Flore to help her carry all the goods (all the women walk around with these little plastic wicker-looking baskets, filled with all kinds of freshish goods) so I was there for the purchasing of our chicken. The woman she bought it from grabbed the chicken, broke it in half with a big crack, then started whacking at it with this huge butcher knife. Blood dripping<br />
down her arms, baby chicks running around at her feet (apparently, someone else was selling live chickens and some had escaped), blobs of chicken in the scale. ew. Good thing I didn´t see her buy the carne for the amazing carne asada we had the other day.<br />
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To balance out how much I´ve been eating...haha...Angel and I have been running a bit. While Asya was gone, we had the chance to run more than usual. Angel. puchicas. Even at the age of 60something, he owns me on those hills. We´ve been running out on the carretera that leads to the volcano. It´s really green and pretty, with lots of cafe growing, the lake and pueblo on one side, the volcanoes on the other. But, it´s all uphill. There are some downhill bits, but they´re an all too infrequent respite. Nonetheless, its an awesome run.</span></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a name='more'></a>I think that's all the important stuff, minus several great photos (which I'll upload later) and a lot of background about the project...but you weren't going to read about that anyway, right? :) </span></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"></span></span>Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11907875832047377609noreply@blogger.com0