Tuesday, January 11, 2011

Censored Internet = More Delayed Posts

Gmail is on the naughty list according to the Burmese government. So is my blog. Heh.
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.

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.
Tuesday, January 4, 2011—Yangon bus station, 9am
couldn't get more than a few swallows down. too wormy looking
with various relatives


adorable, doing their rounds
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.




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.

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.

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...

Monday, January 10, 2011

En route to Myanmar (aka no one has any idea what's going on, especially the airline)

December 30, 2010—Shanghai, 3:30am
stared at this board for hours
aggressive shower
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.

December 30, 2010—Shanghai, 8:00am
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. 

December 31, 2010—Kunming, 6:30am
great jasmine green tea from the airport
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.
yeaaahhh. jiggggllllyyy
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.

December 31, 2010—Yangon, 1:00pm
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.
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. 



Monday, December 27, 2010

Next Up: Burma

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 (no ATMs or card usage in 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.

Hiking the bump'n grind with the sibs on Christmas
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."

If I don't talk to you before then, Happy New Years!

Wednesday, December 8, 2010

Burma prep

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, Daw Aung San Suu Kyi. 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:
  • 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.
  • 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.
  • 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.
  • 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:
    • large-scale spillover into neighboring countries due to Burma's political instability
    • injecting use has increased-->increased risk of HIV transmission, already a big problem
    • health care for those infected isn't reliable and many times, inaccessible
  • The SPDC is the world's only 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.
  • 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.
  • Masses have been stopped, Muslim Rohingyas celebrating Eid-ul-Adha were harassed and arrested in November (what they were arrested for is still unclear).
  • 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.
  • 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.
  • Gas is now being rationed, leading to a surge in black market sales (up to 3500 kyat, or $3.90, a gallon). snap.
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. 


from Mandalay

Tuesday, December 7, 2010

Interesting, Provocative Article on Humanitarian Aid

So, a friend of mine sent me this super interesting, very provocative article in the New Yorker and I liked it so much I had to share. Here are my thoughts:


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?

___________

But if you want to read my detailed thoughts...haha:

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Sunday, November 21, 2010


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.

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.

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:

  1. The alfombras of Semana Santa: making them, seeing them, everything.
  2. “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.
  3. Being greeted with a kiss: All the men greet the women with a kiss on the cheek. Old-fashioned, maybe, but super sweet.
  4. 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
  5. Chiltepe--these tiny green chilis that pack a decent punch 







Thursday, November 18, 2010

El primer paso

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.

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.




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…

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.

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