another real winter

The lake is beginning to freeze. Last Thursday the edges started getting icy; I saw it when I drove to work in the morning. By Saturday, the little inlets and streams were frozen. Today, Sunday, I see large sections of the lake from my apartment window which have no waves. It is incredible. I remember my first real winter, in Philadelphia, I was introduced to the concept of full time snow plows, and frozen streams. Seriously blew my mind. But a lake. A giant lake FROZEN.

There are some budding roses outside my window, frozen solid. If you don't touch them you could imagine it is just now early summer. Moving to a new house here, when you are hardly ever home from work to do a proper look-around, a great way to quickly find the sunniest spots in your yard is to try to plant daffodil bulbs. The places that don't get enough sun will be frozen. :0)

I held a new volunteer orientation last week. I'm really excited, it's a great group, albeit small, of very interesting and helpful people. Community relationships with our organization are being repaired and improved, though slowly.

the long awaited and strived for.

I got a new job! A salaried job! A job that will utilize my education and express my interests and passions! I am now the readiness specialist for 3 counties in Oregon, tasked with liaising, teaching and recruiting for American Red Cross disaster services.

It felt so good to put in my resignation at TNF! My last day was Saturday. I began training with the Red Cross on Monday. I LOVE IT. The more I learned about my job the more excited I became to start it! But here are the most interesting parts about it:
my three counties span rural southeastern Oregon. They are the biggest in the state, though perhaps the least populated as well. I was required to relocate to the biggest of the towns here, Klamath Falls, which boasted a whopping 20000 people in the last census. There is a great old A. Red Cross office building a couple blocks from Main St. which will house my office. But I am the only staff person in the building! I arrived in K. Falls today (warmly welcomed with two inches of snow! WHAT!!) and drove past the office. There is a very friendly CLOSED sign on the front porch of a giant white house. I should be getting an office key and a computer by Wednesday. In the meantime, I am searching for a place to comfortably hibernate through winter. Its been an interesting process in a town that has a 15% unemployment rate and san francisco sized hills with snow.

It meant something to that one...

You know that old story about the kid who tries to save all the starfish who washed up on the beach? The naysayer says you can never make a difference to all of them but the kid says, as he tosses one in the water- I made a difference to that one.

This is day two of being stuck in a FEMA application center. We have a table nearby and if we are lucky we get to offer cleaning supplies and pamphlets. But day 14 after hurricane irene and most people are back to work on a tuesday. We might see 2 people every hour.

I was feeling a little bored and annoyed that they are wasting able bodies in this fashion. Theres so much need all around me and we seem to be barely skimming the surface waiting for people to come to us.

But i just talked with a 70 year old man who began crying when I asked him to tell me about the damage. And the next woman was robbed by the people who came to clean out her damaged house. There still isnt much I can do but listen, look at pictures and offer suggestions of who to call for supplies other than those we hand them on their way out. The emotion is running really high in this room. Im not really sure i made a difference to anyone yet, but im trying.

stories from cranford new jersey

I spoke with a woman today who was left by her husband, with two handicapped children and a teenager to take care of. She told me she just begun to feel stronger and more resilient. And then her basement and first floor flooded. She works night shifts as a nurse and now she is trying to figure out where to begin with fema and clean up.

Another woman broke down crying when she tried to thank us for the food our trucks are providing each day. Its the first day in 2 weeks where she and her husband dont have something with the house they have to be doing. We found her sitting eating yogurt in what she called "my new kitchen" on the front lawn.

Then a man invited us into his home- he and his family moved back in about a week ago. They had a fishtank for a basement and six inches of water into their first floor. Their basement walls and ceiling are now covered with black mold. Meanwhile his wife has terminal lung cancer which has just spread to the bone marrow. She shouldnt be in this house.

The mood definitely feels different today. People are in the waiting stages. And the extent of their losses sets in. They wait for their answers from insurance, from FEMA. They wait for new water heaters and new contractors. They wait for the city dump trucks amd tractors to take their piles of belongings from the curb. They wait for the weather report to tell them its the end of hurricane season.

Disaster Relief Operation 765-12

My first day in the field was postponed. Apparently someone recommended me as a computer genius to the the new manager based on my ability to format excel pages for printing. Thus I served as assistant to the head boss for a couple of days in the office. It would have been okay but there wasn't enough work to be done! I was only busy about 15 minutes every hour. The inside operation is an interesting sight to behold however. Chaotic. And yet somehow functional.

Yesterday I was granted the opportunity to leave the office work behind and get out in the streets of new jersey to talk to people. I was sent with a team of 4 others to a town called Cranford. The damage there is incredible. Butreally hard to comprehend because the 7 feet of water that swept the neighborhood receded within 18 hours. Now, 11 days later, there are rubbish piles that could fill a living room sitting in each yard. All of the stuff that was touched by the flood water, which was a combination of river water, sewage from all the lines that broke and oil from backyard heating tanks, is waiting on the curb to be picked up by the city tractors slowly making their way through town. Meanwhile it starting to mold and the rain keeps falling. There are no visible river banks.

Our assignment is to go door to door to see if people need anything: a safe place to sleep (some houses are condemned) clothes to wear and food to eat. We are helping them find community resources to clean up and open up cases with fema.

Ill write you some neighborhood stories tomorrow.

The first deployment

I really never thought i would say these words: im being deployed. But through a series of curious events thats exactly what happened. I am on my first deployment with American Red Cross disaster services. After a long day of traveling i landed in philly at midnight last night and was picked up at the airport by my 3 dear friends melissa, victoria and shirley. Wow. What troopers! I spent a short night in the hotel, then headed out to pick up my rental car. Note for next time- find out who is supposed to give you your confirmation number ahead of time. A short 1.5 hour drive later i was at red cross headquarters in tinton falls, new jersey. There wasnt a lot for me to do today except watch everyone else be busy and the occasional help somebodys grandma make an excel spread sheet. After all the tedious and funny steps of being processed in to HQ, i watched 3 other new arrivals to my section (client casework) go through the same process. About 6 hours after i arrived they told our new little group to pack up and head out to princeton. so here i am, in a killer regency hyatt hotel complete with indian wedding in the lobby and ballroom. (ill enjoy it while i can- next stop will most likely be my own cot in a gymnasium shelter..) Tomorrow we report to our new supervisor at 8 am. Im excited! But im also really curious. So far i have seen zero damage from the hurricane. In fact im thouroughly impressed by princeton, which is not something i thought i would say about a town in new jersey :0) wonder what we will see and do tomorrow?

Its always sunny on Mondays

As I'm more nearly finished with my immersion experience in Quebec City, I thought I could spare a few moments to update my blog. Until now I felt guilty for using English. BUT, I feel Im progressing well enough now that a 20 minute break won't kill me.

Quebec city is wonderful. People here are unbelievably polite and helpful. The bus drivers says bonjour and merci to EVERY person and total strangers will make change for you or accompany you somewhere if you find yourself lost. The city is a dream for people who like summer festivities. There are international firework competitions, weeks of free outdoor concerts, and free admission to an outdoor cirque de soleil show every night! (did you know they started here in quebec city?)

Also, they have this meal here that I have really fallen in love with: poutine. Its made using the heavenly combination of fries, Gouda and gravy. Maybe while I search for a job i can work on getting a poutine franchise to open in Oregon.

old quebec, or vieux quebec as its said here, is bursting at the brim with history and culture. The license plates here say "je me souviens"- which translate to "I remember". It seems to really fit here- people know the history well here, and they cherish it. One of my favorite things in the old city is a particular tree, which everyone slows down to look at because the people walking in front of them did the same. When you look closely, there is a cannonball enclosed in the tree roots! Its great because its not a destination spot, but more of a happenstance.

I have been having a lot of fun attempting to talk to strangers in french. The elders here and the teenagers are the most difficult to understand, but the easiest to approach. I really get excited to practice, and I have lately caught myself thinking in french! I really love it.

the strawberries here taste like oregon strawberries, and you are encouraged, if not expected, to pour maple syrup on everything (weirdest 4th of july strawberry shortcake ever).

its been quite hot here, like it has for all you folks on the east coast. no one here has air conditioning so the houses are a whopping 100 degrees by the time you go to bed. it rains nearly once a day tuesday through sunday (often accompanied by thunder and lightning) but there is always too much wind to use an umbrella. So far its always sunny on Mondays.

okay my 20 minutes are up. back to the french "grammar exercises" (cartoons on youtube!)

Want to see more pictures?

A Life Selling Coats

I have been working at a north face outlet store selling outdoor gear to the masses at a discount price. Its been a humbling experience as I, along with a large percentage of people in the midst of the world economic crisis, work at a job I am overqualified for :0).

There are a few things keeping me sane during the process of pretending I'm a salesperson.

I have been able to sell coats (and shoes, gloves, backpacks and hats) to people from all over the world. Somehow our outlet mall has become a huge Oregon tourist attraction (which is ridiculous considering how many beautiful things there are to see in Oregon!!) So I have taken up the pastime of learning to recognize accents.

I recognized a Spanish accent once, and discovered that the couple was from Valencia, Spain. They were pretty surprised to hear I had visited their town during the Las Fallas festival last year, and I helped them pick out shoes for their grandfather, strangely allowing me to walk the streets of Valencia once again.

The French and German accents are getting easier to pick up. And people always seem to like hearing your connection to where they are from. I like to imagine it makes the world seem smaller for us all. A German couple from Stuttgart was excited to hear I had seen Stuttgart play in a champions league game last year. The Irish accents are fun to hear too. Rach, you would be proud of me, I am still 100% able to distinguish a Dubliner family from a southern Irish family.

And my newest pleasure, is checking people's photo id for a sale. Then, even if they have managed to cover up their accent, you discover they are from China or Norway or Texas!

Finally, there are the locals I get to talk to who are prepping for trips abroad. I helped a lady find a coat to watch the Iditarod sled race and a man find a backpack for a school building trip to Liberia. I found coats for students moving to the east coast to start college and fleeces for backpacking Europe trips. Warm things for an American woman living for 14 years in Mongolia (though nothing in our store could compare to her long mink coat!!!) and a sleeping bag for a man who has been contracted by an American corporation to work in Afghanistan.

These are the people and the stories that make my current days selling coats much more joyous.

election update

A week after the elctions, the results have all been announced. Some of the opposition parties managed to get parliament positions in the major cities, such as Dar and Arusha. The presidential race wasnt announced until last night in Dar, echoed by gunshots in Arusha. The incumbent Kikwete took 60% of the votes and was pronounced victorious. However, his main rival Dr. Slaa does not accept the victory as legitimate, purporting that the election has been rigged. Talking to some folks here in Arusha, its clear people are really excited about the shift in power within parliament. And yet, at least in Arusha, people seem pretty resigned to the status quo of the current president. Lets see if Dr. Slaa has anything up his sleeve.

From a New Vantage Point: the ACCUSED

Callixte Kalimanzira was read his second, and final judgment last week at the ICTR. Take a second to consider the accusations against this man. In 2008 he was sentenced to 30 years in prison for charges of genocide and public incitement to genocide. What could a man like this look like?? I ask you to imagine someone's grandfather, with a polite smile on his face and a hearty laugh when the defense team (including two people I greatly admire) greets him. I watched from the public viewing room as they embraced like old friends. Looking behind me, I see his family waiting anxiously to hear the verdict. They sat through this process once two years ago, the wife already looks traumatized enough. Now they wait for his last chance at a fair hearing.

There had been rumors circulating that his sentence would be greatly reduced this second and final time around, based on the errors found in the law of his previous judgment. So we sat to hear the decision of the appeals judges. In the chair next to me sat a man who is known as one of the engineers of the genocide. He recently sat in the same seat as Kalimanzira, and was freed based on his appeal. He, no doubt, was waiting to celebrate with his friend after the judgment.

For about thirty minutes a judge from Israel read us the findings of the appeals chamber. They granted many of the motions to appeal (things like insufficient evidence, unreliable witness, etc.) and dismissed the motions from prosecution to extend the sentence to life. (Mind you, this judge from Israel is a survivor of a Holocaust work camp, and he is now leading a jury to consider acquitting (setting free) a man accused of genocide.)

They come to the end of the judgment, Kalimanzira's face is solemn as the judge says something to the extent of, based on the granting of several of your appeal motions, we will substantially lower your sentence. Everyone takes a deep breath. From 30 years to 25.

I felt the weight of this mans burden, and his family's burden in the room. Heavy. Suffocating. But then it was time for lunch.

Can you imagine, now, the importance of a fair trial? If this was you and your family waiting, anticipating your last chance for freedom and vindication, how would you feel about the priceless and yet sometimes trite principal of "innocent until proven guilty?"

[a note: genocide is a very serious crime. proving that someone has partaken in such a horrific thing is likewise a very serious task. I hope that no one will ever take these things lightly. But what is the difference between the man in the chair next to me who was released, and the man that will now serve 25 years in a third world prison? A better lawyer? Does it matter that the man who was released is rumored to have committed worse crimes? watching the practice of law from the side of the defense was quite unsettling. At the very least it reminded me that law is a practice. And law might rarely equal justice.]

as the elections draw closer

The Tanzanian presidential elections are set to take place October 31. In preparation, there are party flags everywhere, on the back of cars and bicycles, on the roadside, on restaurants. Lately I have seen several people wearing flags, genius idea really, as a flag becomes a jogging jacket. Along with the flags there are political events everywhere, from roadside cafes to the corners of villages, even the chairs boast the colors of the party. But the best advertising tool seems to be the "party truck". It drives up and down every street in Arusha all day long, blasting music and showcasing dancers to promote the candidate. The idea seems to be that the loudest campaign wins, which is easy for Kikwete- the current president to pull off. He is the head of the party which has essentially held power, and therefore money, in Tanzania since the country's independence. Despite the annoyance of the lack of noise regulation regarding the campaign, I am really impressed with one thing: the general peace that comes with it.

To give you an example, Johann and I were driving through a village the other day when we got stuck between a demonstration of the opposing parties. Demonstrating the financial disparity, Kikwete's supporters were on our right side driving and honking a little ditty to cheer the president on, while the opposition group was on foot to our left giving an old-fashioned thumbs-down and a few boos here and there. It struck me how much it was like being outside a stadium before a college ball game. Many other places in Africa, or in the developing world over, political dissent results in violence. Those who are against us are dead. And yet here I am, in a country where the freedom of elections is arguable and people are peaceably demonstrating their views. Kudos to Tanzania. Seriously. Big kudos.

Meanwhile, the US general elections draw closer. Despite the strangeness of receiving and sending my ballot by fax, I have to say that I am quite glad to be missing out on the dirty campaign going on in the states. Its a sad election when you must campaign on the failures of your opponent. In the midst of all our chaos and current problems, the US could stand to learn something from Tanzania in this sense. Lets put some music on (though perhaps respecting the noise ordinances) and remember the joys of life.

from doctor visit to animal sightings

After being sick for about three weeks I sucked it up and went to see Dr. Mohammed. I took a taxi to the office, a little nervous at the prospect of seeing ANY doctor, let alone one in Tanzania. What would this be like??? At first I was both relieved and appalled that I was ushered into a private waiting room ahead of about 30 coughing Tanzanians. (Perhaps it was because I called the doctors cell phone the day before for an appointment? can you imagine having your doctors cell phone number?) Next I was ushered into the doctors room. It was split in half with a white hanging sheet, on one side I sat while a nurse took my blood pressure, on the other side the doctor was sitting with a family and a coughing, crying child. I couldn't understand the conversation, as it was entirely in kiswahili. When it was my turn, he looked in my eyes, nose, throat and ears. Listened to me cough. Then said you probably have the flu, avoid dust (good luck with that here) and take the following medicines. huh.

I learned later that the system is designed to charge foreigners a bit more for the doctor consult, so the Tanzanians can go for almost free. Mind you, I only paid 20 US dollars for the consult AND four cold remedy medicines.

I saw a beautiful blue heron yesterday. And a car-flattened hedgehog. The hedgehog actually looked like someone had squished the koosh out of a koosh ball: still totally round but flat.

Other highlights of the week include: a run through a field of wheat and acacia trees, consulting with friends about the beginning of an orphanage in Arusha over sodas, a benefit theater production put on at the Arusha Hotel about bouncers in UK night clubs, and soccer training for Arusha kids with my buddy Alfred.

Okay, enough procrastinating. Back to research!

the job search and fever dreams

Here I find myself two and a half weeks in to my Arusha return. In this short amount of time I am now on my second bout of flu/cold. (Apparently the three day process of my journey itself has weakened my immune system a tad, and my respiratory system finds the conditions of increased pollution, the European cheek kissing greeting style, dust swirled air conditioning systems, and cigarette and garbage-burning smoke a little difficult to deal with in this weakened state. Lame.) That said, bear with me if my writing is a little loopy :0)

Despite my obnoxious symptoms, however, I have also found a couple productive things to fill my time with. I am continuing research on piracy in East Africa (focus on Somalia of course) and writing a proposal for a future conference on this issue. Roland, our former professor at the university in Arusha, last week gave me the title "researcher" for the Nyerere Center for Peace Research. Though the title might be rather arbitrary, I can't tell you how nice it is to have an easy answer when someone asks, "what is your job?" You have to start somewhere, right? For the moment I feel so happy to be doing research on a topic that I love, and to some possible end even.

Besides this I am taking french classes at Alliance Francais. I tried two different beginning level classes, it seems the programs have lapsed a bit to cater to slower students, point being that there is a very large gap between the first level and the second level and not a clear spot for me. Both of my classes were made up of entirely Tanzanian students, and therefore taught in equal parts English, Kiswahili and French. Of course there are some cultural differences in learning languages that had to be addressed. It was kind of humorous when we spent twenty minutes on the issue of a last/family name. "No it is not the first name of your father or grandfather, but of your tribe or region". In the moment it was actually kind of embarrassing that I had no problem with this concept. So much for solidarity with my fellow classmates.

Last week I participated in a two-day conference put on by Arcadia University, on the rule of law within the UN. Not only was it at the Arusha Hotel, the only "5" star hotel in Arusha, it was an entirely fascinating group of people who gathered. We met with two judges of the year-old UN Dispute Tribunal in Nairobi. The registrar of this establishment, Jean-Pele Fomete, was also in attendance. It was a wonderful exchange of ideas, as we considered the aspirations and setbacks of this new tribunal, designed as an independent jury to ensure that staff of the UN have an avenue to seek justice for issues with their management. This is necessary because since the UN is not governed by any higher body, no court system is above it. And while the organization as a whole moves to promote an increase in rule of law, the same ideals must be upheld within the organization itself.

In sum, though I'm still technically "unemployed", I am definitely not lacking in opportunities. Last week at a big dinner with a random assortment of Arusha folk, a table discussion ensued about the current predicament of a man in attendance. The gist of his story is that his combination of ethnicity and passport often puts him on terrorist watch by countries like the UK and US. He is a doctor, and came to work for a hospital in Tanzania. However, the story goes that he ended up receiving way less than half of his pay from the Republic of Tanzania. He is looking for alternatives, but his passport is about to expire and he can't go home (others in his situation are often held and arrested in his home country upon returning- simply for being his ethnicity.) Hearing the details of his story I was completely amazed. I thought it was hard for ME to find a job. I'm grateful for that humble reminder.

A New Route

About this time last year I described the walk between my home and school in Arusha. So I thought it might be a fair (re)orientation to start here once again, as I have a new walking route. This time, my path is between my french class and my apartment. It is a very short distance, in fact, much too short to bother with taxis. By the time I call a taxi and it arrives to pick me up, I could have already arrived at my destination twice by walking.

I exit the Alliance Francais compound, and cut through a beautiful open field with deeply etched ruts from foot and car traffic over the years. There are hills covered with light green trees behind and in front of me. I follow the path that connects to the main road where I continue on. Here there is a variety of traffic on a small two lane road: motor bike taxis, semi trucks, passenger cars, bicycles, and pedestrians. I pass a shop where there are often people sitting outside around tables (I havent figured out why yet- might be just for a soda break). After passing a preschool, I walk along a lovely roadside plant nursery boasting beautiful flowering plants in neat rows, their roots contained in plastic sacks. To my other side is a gas station and grocery store. I turn here, and on my left is a giant display of dirty stuffed animals for sale. Some of the zebras and frogs and rabbits and bears lay arranged on a tarp stretched out over the earth, while others hang from their ears from a clothes line above. Smart business placement, as there is a primary school only a few doors ahead which I will pass next. Then, a small house deemed "this and that", a gift and sandwich shop extraordinaire. This is where I take a toasted sandwich for just a few dollars after class. Next stop, the gate on the left, a complex of apartments, nail and hair salons, small grocery shop, and night club. This complex is genially referred to sometimes as one of Arusha's UN ghettos- its sister complex, in a rougher part of town, is ringed by high wall and barbed wire, stamped in block letters PPF NORTHERN ZONE. Of course, ghetto in this sense is reflective of grouping one type of people together as one done to the Jews in WW2, rather than the lack of socioeconomic status that lately defines the word.

This route is not drastically different than the one I walked before, just some of the details are different. A new school here, a new shop there. Its the same when people ask, "how are you liking Arusha the second time around??" There is a new experience here and a new friend there, but it is not so drastically different. I eat better now, I even enjoy cooking a little bit. I have internet in my apartment and a wicker chair on a terrace that overlooks a field and a small mountain and a hill with a dozen cell towers. I have access to a car sometimes, and a lot more time to myself. I realize, Arusha might seem the same for everyone here except me. As a broke student with connections, I have had the unique privilege of being somewhat socially mobile while most expats, and locals alike, do not get this experience. Its an interesting view from here, on the next path over.

are you getting somewhere?

I have flown through Amsterdam 3 times, attempted to plan a city visit 3 times. And it finally worked! Good thing, since I was about to give up on Amsterdam entirely. Either the public transportation system is not as easy to navigate as they claim, or it is just that to be worthy to use the system you first have to endure a vigorous usage test. To be honest, I’m not sure that I passed with flying colors. I managed to get on the wrong train right off the bat (But the lady at the desk told me to get on the 9:41 am at spoor 1 or 2, which I DID.)

I met a funny girl from Glasgow in the chaos of navigating the trains. And for some reason all the people who spoke Spanish came to me for directions. That worked out REALLY well for them. Once we had managed to communicate that, yes indeed this was the train to central Amsterdam, some magic hand switched the electronic signs for the platform and all the passengers standing on one side migrated to the other. The Spanish speaking guy thought this was really funny.

Of course, I had managed to leave my raincoat in my checked bags, and the rain was coming down hard enough that I could hear it on the roof of the train station attached to the airport. No matter, Schippol international airport says, look we have an H & M full of umbrellas to purchase before you go out in that nasty weather! Funny, it was dry 30 minutes later when I walked out of the airport.

I walked through the different areas of the old town, more afraid of the millions of bicyclists than the piddly cars. I went through the old romanticized working class district- Jordaan; and the red light district. I found the Anne Frank house, but the line was around the block, so I put it on my “to do on next trip,” along with buy dutch tulips and cheese. I can’t believe how well I was able to get around for having only a map with five major street names. Granted I used the old-fashioned GPS system too; it takes about the same number of pointed index fingers to get to a place as it does steps on a new-fangled thing. I actually stumbled across the place I had planned to eat lunch because it was the most interesting building on a street. I felt like it was a bonus. Such a great old building, and inside I got to eat genuine Dutch farm cheese. MMM.

Last stop of the day: a canal tour. Learned a lot about the city while chatting with two women from Belfast. We peered into the windows of some of the city’s 2500 houseboats. We saw a diamond factory, a house that is only 1 and 1/2 meters wide, and house that were tipping and listing this way and that from their foundations sinking into the canals.

The town smells a lot like coffee, pancakes and cannabis. And everyone says hello first in Dutch, but when you respond with an ignorant “hi” they continue with you in English quite kindly. There are bikes EVERYWHERE. I didn’t see any car parking structures, but instead the two-story parking structures are for bikes. So advanced for people who give medieval brooms made of branches to their street sweepers.

and why not?

It was pointed out to me over a wonderful dinner with a best friends' family that I have been slacking in the blog department.

Here is the quick update that I hope will suffice as my catch up, and spur me on to writing once again. My apologies for the trivial and possibly uninteresting details.

I spent a wonderfully fantastic month in France. I started to write some musings on my blog, tidbits about Paris, our jaunts to the coast, and the uncanny dining abilities of the French, but was entirely too distracted by said things. Thus, here I am, already returned from France, albeit a little plumper than before.

Back in Oregon I am reveling in a few things: the proximity of my family and friends, the abrupt transition to autumn weather, and the prospect of the next wondrous opportunity.

Next week I will take a plane from Portland (with a 12 hour layover in Amsterdam- my third attempt to see the city insh'allah will be the charm...) to Nairobi, where Johann will meet and escort me back to Tanzania. There are a handful of job and internship opportunities in good old Arusha that I am trying to pursue through various connections. I am very eager to get some experience in the field, as I have recently been learning through interviews and published reports, that a graduate degree in peace and conflict areas does not adequately prepare one for the job market. Im curious where that report was hiding when I signed up for school. Anyway, I digress.

An old friend of mine recently posted on her blog the following Mark Twain quote (apparently it is making its rounds inspiring various people, and I am the most recently effected):

[Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.]

I'm fortunate enough to have the opportunity to take him literally. So here goes. Wish me luck.

fulfilling my wanderlust

Leaving for Paris in just a few short days! Ill arrive just in time to celebrate a very special birthday. Almost done packing (not that I am eager or anything). I will spend most of my remaining time in Salem cramming french grammar (its like a 4-week long test coming up) and soaking up the first glorious days of summer.

I see freedom and opportunity

The last week of graduate school... After 18 straight years of education, I should be worth something to the world, no? Ironically, I am finishing up my thesis on Somalia, which has been "governmentless" for as long as I have been in school, and "less than worthless" to the world with its glorious contribution to piracy and general lawlessness.

Thats really something to think about.

As I look forward to my freedom from this long, and at times difficult process, I wonder when Somali's will be free and considered valuable to the world. And when for Afghans and Iraqis? For Burmese and Thai?

Im Humbly Reminded

While we were concerned with all the busyness of humans, the crocuses and daffodils and tulips bloomed, and the deciduous trees budded and blossomed. Overnight there was given magnificent color to our lives again, whether we consciously observed it or not.

And now the day appeals to us on behalf of the earth, imploring us silently by offering a moment more of itself every time we meet, patiently hoping we might notice what beautiful new shades of life it unveils.

a brief note before my thesis consumes my life again

What a glorious feeling. To come home to my bed after seeing the world.

I spent two weeks in Spain with my dear friends, Tiffany, Laura and Grace. Perhaps you would like to take a look at our group musings. We powered through six cities in 12 days. Spain was more beautiful than I had imagined.


These were a few of my favorite Spanish things:

[The Alhambra] the gorgeously detailed 14th century Moorish fortress. This impressed me more than any castle or cathedral I have seen. Every room was splashed with beautiful colored tiles and flowing patterns of carvings and arabic script. Absolutely incredible.

[Stuttgart v. Barcelona Championship soccer match] Within this crowd of 98,000 singing fans, my friends and I were embraced by radiant energy and kisses with each of the four goals scored. As if the stadium was electrified, and we were all attached to the same wires, we moved with one voice and one body in celebration of Futbol Club Barcelona.

We also delighted in the powerful expressions of traditional Flamenco. We sampled tasty paella, tapas, sangria and chocolate churros. We marveled at the paintings of Dali and Picasso (Guernica was unimaginable.) We frolicked through alcazars and catedrals, alley ways and Roman aquaducts. We touched the Mediterranean!

Upon my return back to the states I spent a week sightseeing in my own country, in New York City and DC, with Johann and a few of his friends. I cant begin to tell you what wonderful perspectives you can achieve when observing America through European lenses :)