Travel

International Meet-cute

August 13, 2023 Featured Post Travel

International meet-cute

“Is this seat open?” The handsome stranger asked in accented English. I made an exception to the ‘don’t talk to strangers rule’. I’m a lot better at being open when I’m 8000 miles from home as opposed to being in my own town.

“Yes”. I replied as he sat down.

“Do you know those people?” He was referring to the three people in my group of 7 who pitched a total fit about sleeping arrangements.

“No. I only joined the group this afternoon. I don’t even know their names.”

A scheduling snafu, or perhaps this is how it’s always done, had me sleeping in a tent with two guys. One–from Hong Kong, who barely spoke English, and the second–the handsome stranger with the accented English who was my current dining companion.

We started chatting, the way travelers do when they first meet someone. “Where are you from?” [Me: the United States; Him: Italy, Milan specifcally]. What do you do when you aren’t traveling? [Me: I’m a RN; Him: journalist] Why are you in Kenya [Me: to teach; him: to explore]. Verbal parrying continued, each trying to suss out whether the other person would make an interesting companion past tonight’s dinner.

Dining Companions

Dinner was a simple meal; white rice and a meat stew on top. I’ve learned not to ask what “kind” of meat is in meat stew. Most often, it’s goat, or chola in Kenya, and while I’ll not be eating any goat in the US, when in Kenya….

After dinner we leave the communal dining room together. Despite the long travel day and our early morning start tomorrow, I’m not quite ready to turn in. I notice you following me to the bonfire. I’m a sucker for a bonfire. Any bonfire. Any where.

After the sun sets, it’s surprisingly chilly. After nearly a month in this country, the nighttime chill shouldn’t surprise me. Yet, it does. Every time. “I’m going to run and get my jacket.” I say to no one in particular, but especially to you so that you won’t leave.

I run back to our shared tent, which seems a lot more intimate than it is, and grab my flannel shirt. That’s what’s been serving as a ‘jacket’ these last few chilly days., and run back out to the bonfire. You are writing in your journal as I quietly take a seat opposite from you. I stare into the fire, somewhat lost in thought, when you blurt out, “What do you think of the state of the world right now?”

Borrowing a line from Harry Potter, I reply, ‘The whole world’s gone topsy-turvy.’ I hope that satisfies you, because the truth of it is, I don’t enjoy discussing politics. Or religion. People generally have forgotten how to have intelligent discourse and disagree without resorting to personal attacks.

“Do you know who the prime minister of Italy is?” he asked.

“I do. Her name in Meloni. Georgia, or something like that.” I can tell you’re impressed. I didn’t volunteer that I’d only just learned that recently due to a listening to podcast. “Most Americans don’t know that” you replied.

“Most Americans don’t know who their own representatives are” I countered.

“You’re not like most Americans” you assess with certainty although we’ve only known each other about 3 hours.

“Well, I try”

Things suddenly got serious. “Well, I don’t know many Italians to compare you to. Italian-Americans, maybe, but actual Italians, not so much.”

You laugh. “What is it with Americans claiming to be “something”-American. No other country does that.”

Now, it’s my turn to laugh. ‘I have no idea. My European ancestors literally came over on the Mayflower 400 years ago. And they were from the UK. I don’t go around saying ‘I’m British-American'”

You laugh again.

The Conversation Turns Serious

“Do you have on-line dating in Italy? Like Tinder?” I don’t know why I ask this.

“Yes. Of course. Why? Are you on it?

“Me? No.”

“Why not?” you ask.

“Well, I was in a relationship for a really long time and now I’m not. But picking someone out and ‘adding to cart’ like an Amazon purchase seems like the wrong way to go about meeting a potential partner. Besides people are superficial. Especially online. No one takes the time to get to know anyone anymore.”

“You mean like this” you ask.

“Yes. Exactly like this. No one in America has time for hours long dinners that lead to chatting around a bonfire for two hours. It’s go-go-go. All the time. And, besides, I don’t like small talk.”

“So what do you like to talk about, then”

“oh you know, ones hopes and dreams and fears. Goals in life. And bears”

“Bears?” you ask questioningly.

“Specifically the coastal Alaskan brown bear. And even more specifically, a bear named Otis” I reply.

You laugh.

“Well tell me about Otis” you say.

And I do. At length. At times, I wonder if I’m following the unwritten dating rules. Or is this an exception since this isn’t really a date. I decided to go with exception and talk way too much about Otis. And Pete. I do not mention my ex. No matter the situation, that’s definitely not an exception. You talk about Italy. And Ukraine. And South Sudan, You avoid mentioning other humans.

Somehow it’s midnight and the fire has almost burned out.

“I suppose we should get some sleep. We’ve got an early start.” I say to myself. And you.. As we walk back to our tent, I feel your hand brush against mine.

A Truly Magical Day

Who the fuck puts on make-up for a safari I thought as I carefully applied eyeshadow. Wait scratch that–Who the fuck BRINGS make-up on a safari. Apparently I do. If this isn’t some irony. A person who rarely wears make in the everyday life is putting on make-up to go on a safari.

Safari ready, make-up and all.

Shortly after our breakfast of beans and toast, we loaded up into our (separate) safari jeeps and set off to chase animals around Amboseli National Park.

It was amazing.

So many elephants.

And flamingos.

And some hippos.

I saw hundreds of zebras.

And giraffes.

I even saw the one animal I really wanted to see

After the safari was over we met back at the campsite and compared stories and animal sightings over dinner. You said it was cute how excited I got over seeing a lion for the first time.

“Better than seeing Otis” you joked. “Only because I’ve never actually seen Otis in person I replied”

“Come with me. I want to show you something even better than Otis. And lions.”

We walk outside, and the full moon is rising over snow-capped Mt. Kilimanjaro. It was an awe inspiring sight.

“I know you said you don’t kiss strangers, but I’ll hope you’ll make an exception. Besides we’re not really strangers anymore, are we? We’ve known each other exactly 26 hours.”

And standing there, in the shadow of Kilimanjaro, with the full moon shining overhead, you kiss me. And then we walk hand in hand back to our shared tent.

Happy Peace Corps Day

March 1, 2021 Travel

I bet you didn’t even know there was such a thing, did you? I didn’t, at least not until I was actually a PCV.

The beginnings

On this day, 60 years ago, John F. Kennedy established the Peace Corps. All over the world Peace Corps staff and Volunteers celebrate March 1st as Peace Corps Day.

My official start day with Peace Corps was June 4, 2018. The question I get the most is –What is Peace Corps’ Life like? 

To be honest, some days drag on forever. I’m convinced that I’m living life in a time warp where time moves in reverse. But surprisingly, the weeks move rather quickly. Often when I’m bogged down in a day, I think to myself ‘just get through the day and it’s one step closer to COS’. Then it’s Friday, and I’m amazed at how quickly the week has passed.

As it turns out, despite the fact that I have a lot of skills, even life-saving skills, these are not necessarily the skills the Peace Corps’ wants nor are they the skills my community wants. Peace Corps’ or at least Peace Corps’ Rwanda is transitioning from the ‘strong backs’ building projects to the PC buzz ward of ‘capacity building.’ However, in a community that has had previous volunteers [at least one since PC returned to Rwanda] build things, many can’t get past the fact that I’m not going to be participating in any building projects which is somewhat ironic considering I spent my time at home ‘building things’]

She is certainly ‘doing’.

I applied to Peace Corps because I wanted to be a PCV. If that seems simple, it’s because it is. PCVs are a special breed of people. There is no other organization that does what we do and lives how we live. It’s challenging, and it’s awesome, but sometimes it sucks. I’m awesome for enduring the ‘sucky’ parts when I know I have a complete life waiting for me in America.

Reflections

I’d be more modest, but it’s Peace Corps Day and I’m a PCV even if I am not actively serving. So let me reflect on my life as a  Volunteer.

  • Little by little, I learned another language and spoke it on a daily basis [a language that I’ll most likely never speak again, but still]. I brought new ideas into a rural community. I taught basic first aid to school children and their teachers. I’ve helped combat childhood malnutrition, and a host of other childhood diseases. I made amazing friends. On a more introspective note, I learned to be more patient and to think critically when things did not go as planned [and things rarely go as planned]. I integrated into a new culture, took on new customs, and ate food I never knew existed. In the Peace Corps, I lived a completely different life, and how many people can say they’ve done that? I’m a new person, really. I even changed my name to fit in. It was so damn hard in the beginning, but the Peace Corps wouldn’t be the Peace Corps if it was comfortable or easy.

Next Steps

Oh, and did I mention that I applied for grad school while in the Peace Corps? Because I did. It’s not easy to study for the GRE from underneath a mosquito net while mentally blocking out the screeching of the roosters or the moo-ing of cows, and with the electricity cutting in and out. Or prepare oneself for said program by learning all the ‘common’ medical things’ I’ve forgotten while I’m here. But I did it. One day at a time. 

And even more exciting is that I got accepted to a graduate program in a field I am truly interested in.

To be honest, I haven’t done much to celebrate today. After all, I don’t feel much like a PCV these days. Today Iwoke up late with the kitties snuggled by my side. I did a load of laundry in the machine. I went out for pizza with American friends. We drove around the city in my car. I spoke exclusively in English. 

Being a Peace Corps Volunteer is something that I wanted to do for a long time. I am glad I did it, but I’m also glad it’s over.

Finally Peace Corps Volunteers at last. My best PC friend and me–at our swearing in ceremony in August.
photo credit Kerong Kelly

Chapter 40: Someone I used to know

October 11, 2020 Travel

I have known Chris practically my entire adult life. Or at least I thought I did. It took three years for us to have a first date and another 3 years for us to live in the same city. And between then and now we had some amazing times. He inspired me to go back to medical school. For a brief moment in time, I had a fantasy that together we could rule medicine. He with the adults, and me with the tiny humans. And for a brief time, our life together was amazing.

Through four years of medical school, things were idyllic. Nobody describes medical school as idyllic, but I did. Living with Chris during medical school was the best of both worlds. I had a long term partner. I had security, And I had kind of a built in professor. His role as adjunct prof at the school he attended was a blessing in disguise.

Even MS-3, which is hard on many levels, was perfect. On the nights I had overnight call, Chris packed me lunch. He made sure I had clean clothes and food to eat. He made studying easy because all I had to worry about was learning. Life was taken care of. Our cat, Tigs, was cared for; I didn’t have to worry about ‘did I feed Tigs’ or did I scoop the poop because Chris did that too.

I matched to my second choice. First choice in programs; second in location. Too far to stay with Chris but not as far as when we started dating.

Intern year was hard. New city. New hospital. Learning a lot. Missing Chris. I got a cat. Her name is Lily.

Chris and I started to grow apart. I always assumed after intern year things would get better. And they did, for a while. But Chris was dealing with his own demons. And he stated shutting me out. And when he started shutting me out, I felt myself pulling back too. Self-protection, I guess. A couple days between face-times turned into a week, then weeks, turned into a month. Then one day, it was like we never existed.

He became someone I used to know and I hardly even knew myself.

Things I do and do not miss about village life

January 19, 2020 Peace Corps Travel

A List of Things I Do and Don’t Miss about village life

  • long commutes (my Rwanda house is less than a five minute walk to the health center; my SC house is a 40 minute drive to the hospital)
  • sitting in front of a computer at a desk all day for work
  • housing prices (so much sadness and makes me miss my Rwanda house)
  • stark boundaries drawn between work and home/social life (I almost never see patients from the hospital outside the hospital)
  • bringing work home with you (I do not do hospital work at home, but I did so much PC work away from the hospital)
  • dating apps are pure hell (I don’t use them in either country)
  • shopping *all the time* (market shopping sucks the life out me, but so does Target and Publix)
  • spending money (I don’t spend a ton in the village, but stepping out of my SC house costs like $100)
  • Lines–(I don’t like to queue, but I appreciate the fact the North America and Europe respects the queue. Rwanda generally does not but is at least better than a lot of other countries)
  • $12 salads (need I say more)
  • South Carolina’s crumbling, antiquated transportation infrastructure (made worse by Hurricane Helene)
  • not using the metric system (come on, America)
  • FOMO (The Fear Of Missing Out)
  • Parking (and driving)
  • “Keeping up with the Jones'” mentality
  • waking up really late (I like getting up at 6am now??
  • being afraid of active shooters
  • holidays centered on getting drunk [ 4th of July, cinco de mayo…]
  • watching the news all the time [blissfully unaware is sometimes ideal]
  • tipping
  • really rude strangers [oh wait, that’s everywhere]
  • people putting 120% into their job/work/career
  • American xenophobia
  • paying off student loans
  • American drinking culture
  • Traffic
  • driving my car
  • driving my car *with a good playlist*
  • cooking [yes, I know I can cook here, and I do. But it’s definitely not the same]
  • restaurant service/hospitality
  • the thing your cat does when you get home at the end of the day

Don’t all cats jump on your car to welcome you home, or that just Pete?

  • really good food
  • National parks, state parks, county park, city park [Don’t take the US park system for granted, people]
  • food shopping [yes, really. Trader Joe’s, Whole Foods, farmers markets…  so much better than markets
  • my friends
  • wearing active sportswear when you’re not working out
  • bagels, burritos, hummus pretzels , pizza, tacos,
  • not being stared at *all the time*
  • not being asked for photos
  • being understood or being able to articulate myself
  • the coldness in the air when summer turns to fall
  • leaves turning in the fall
  • wearing a coat and scarf
  • Yoga studios
  • Camping
  • Museums
  • having people over
  • being close to the beach

No rain

February 15, 2015 #HistoryNerd Featured Post Travel

As an introvert, I live a lot of my life in my head. And as an avowed #historynerd, I think a lot about the past. I think about how 21st me would fair in various time periods. Would I survive? Would I thrive? For example, 21st century me does not like human sacrifice. The weather fascinates 21st century me, but not so much that I want to control it. 21st century me knows that I nor anyone else can make it rain on command. 21st century me like to build things and garden, but in fact does not offer human sacrifices to the deities in order to get rain. Evidently, I would not last long in Mayan society. 

Did you know? I did my senior thesis project on Mayan Art and Architecture. In Spanish. So much of a #historynerd.

Large and in charge

Being in charge is no joke. Sometimes at work I’m forced into that position. I don’t like it, and it’s not a position I enjoy. It’s hard work being in charge. However, at least when I’m in charge I know there are things outside my control. Like admissions. Or orders. 

In ancient Mayan society, rulers were responsible for governance, organization, warfare, keeping the calendar… Oh, and CONTROLLING THE WEATHER. By claiming divine descent and direct communication with the gods, the ruling elite was able to justify its power and obtain necessities like food, clothing, shelter, and status symbols from lower social classes in exchange for divine protection. 

Long dead rulers, who were thought to be God-like themselves, continued ‘living’ in these amazingly intricate temples. Mayan offered ritualistic offerings to appeal to the gods.Mayas believed that their gods rewarded such sacrifices with blessings such as prosperity, fertility, and military success.

Lubaantun Ruins–Belize

The God of rain and lightening

One of the most insatiable deities was Chac, the god of rain and lightning. Chac is a snake-shaped being with a reptilian face, large round eyes, a down-pointing snout, and fangs. He carries a lightning axe. Chichen Itza is often thought to be acoustically designed so that feet climbing the steps would mimic the pitter-patter of rain drops and please Chac– who in turn would cause real rain drops to fall.  Not coincidentally, Chac is depicted all over the exterior of Chichen Itza.

 Hello there, Chaac

On the Yucatán Peninsula, rain wasn’t a guarantee, but it was absolutely necessary for survival; rulers were even known as supreme rainmakers in honor of their most important job. Rituals involved feasts, ceremonious smashing and burning of ceramic vessels, and even mass public bloodletting with stingray spines. Temples were also important divine pathways, and construction was often punctuated with rituals that left artifacts within the building’s structure itself.

No rain for YEARS

During droughts, however, regular rituals just didn’t cut it. During droughts, human sacrifice was a common practice. Young kids served as the sacrificees. Kids represent growth and development. Such things were needed for growing crops. On the Yucatan peninsula, archaeologists have recovered the hearts of young boys. Their hearts were ripped out of their body and thrown in the area cenotes. [Side note curiosity: How were hearts discovered? Who discovered them? Hearts do not contain bones, and water accelerated decomposition. Unless frozen. And it’s way too warm on the Yucatan to freeze.] In the southern highlands, priests dropped infants in cenotes and they drowned. 

Imagine being a Mayan parent. The elites select your kid for sacrifice. 21st century me can not get on board that train, but 800s meso-american me, I can see the value of sacrifice one for the good of all. In, fact, that’s a common historical occurrence that the selfishness of the 21st century seems to forget. But I digress. My kid for the survival of all of us. Ummm, OK, but Chaac, my harvest better be extra bountiful for the next few years, and I better be able to get pregnant again. 

The Crystal Maiden

A sacrificial human skeleton known as the Crystal Maiden was found in the dark zone of a cave and dated back to the ninth century, a dry and turbulent era for the Maya. The god Chaac lived at the bottom of caves, cenotes, and other dark places, with his pet serpents guarding the water. Archeologists discovered human remains dating from the Early Classic period at cave entrances. However as times got more difficult, priests ventured further and further in the caves. By the 8th and 9th centuries, Mayans have not seen predictable rain for many years. Times are increasingly more difficult, and priests advanced to the rear of the caves to offer sacrifices like the Crystal Maiden. Times were hard. Priests and the elite grew desperate to satisfy both Chaac and an angry populace.

Unfortunately for the elite, no rain came. Humans sacrificed increased in quantity and the community worked at a frantic pace to construct a new, more pleasing to Chaac temple. However, infighting increased. Kingdoms collapsed. The peasant class shifted blame to its rulers. Many elites were killed for failing to allow rain. The established social hierarchy deteriorated until the population collapsed. But it didn’t die out completely.

Modern Mayans still worship Chaac, sending offerings into the cenotes he dwells in. At least today, kids aren’t sacrificed. More importantly, beating hearts remain encased in bodies. And infants see their first birthdays.

 

Oh Canada, why you gotta treat me so bad

October 21, 2012 Travel

Travel: It’s not all fun and smooth sailing. Once upon a time, Canada gave me an exceedingly hard time at the border crossing.

My entry to Canada wasn’t smooth. I was questioned like everyone else, but then I was singled out for additional inspection. I guess border guard 1 didn’t like the vague answers I gave him, but what do you do when you don’t have specific plans.. Border guard 2 was female, and I thought maybe she would pat me down or something. They took me and my bags to the area between trains and questioned me more while my underwear was on full display.

Guard:  Where are you going?

Me:  Montreal

Guard: What are you going to see?

Me:  I don’t know. I have never been there

Guard:  Where are you staying? — I showed her the name of the hotel I had written in my notebook–

Is this all the information you have

Me:  Yes

Guard:  Do you have a return ticket?

Me:  Yes

Guard:  Can I see it? — I show her the ticket that leaves from Vermont… Guard:  This ticket leaves from Vermont.  How are you getting there?

Me:  I have a friend who is meeting me here for the weekend…

Guard:  I thought you said you don’t know anyone in Montreal.

Me:  I don’t.  She lives in Vermont.

Guard:  How much money do you have?

Me:  about $100

Guard:  Do you have credit cards?

Me:  Yes

Guard: Why do you carry a backpack

It is what I have

Guard:  What is in your backpack?

Clothes, toiletries, camera

Guard:  Do you have any relatives in Colombia?

NO

Guard:  Why did you go to Colombia?

To visit

Guard:  Why did you go to Ecuador?

TO visit

…and so it went on like this for more that 5 minutes. The female guard asking questions while the male guard searched my luggage.  I assume that either I answered questions satisfactorily or they gave up and decided I wasn’t a risk to Canada’s national security nor was I doing or carrying anything illegal. Two hours after schedule the train rolled into a centeral terminal that was basically closed. I made a quick trip to the ATM to get Canadian funds and had to get a taxi because there are no maps in the train station.
So I get to my hotel, and they do not have a record of my reservation–even though I have a paid in full confirmation email. I do get a bed down in the basement, next to the street….not an ideal location, but I was too tired to complain.