Year's End

In less than four hours, 2009 will become but a memory (to use the melodramatic albeit beautiful cliche). It somehow doesn't seem real. I remember fighting to stay up till midnight in 1999 (my whole family was battling a nasty post-Christmas bug that year), toasting with bleary eyes and sparkling cider (or was it milk?), and heading to bed. It doesn't seem a decade ago. And to look back, I was 12 at the time, in junior high...I've come a long way since then, no? We all have.

In many ways, I am sorry to see 2009 conclude. The year was surreal in so many ways, incredible in many others, and also challenging. I began the year with some of my best friends in Massachusetts, outrunning snowstorms. I immediately traipsed to NY, interviewed at a medical school, and cemented a friendship with an amazing woman that has since been a stabilizing and powerful part of my life. It's a sign of the year to come. Including airports, I was in at least 13 states. I was gone half the weekends of the semester and flew somewhere nine months of the year. I presented my own research at a conference. I interviewed at four medical schools (one was in 2008), was accepted to four and in the upper half of the wait list at the fifth. I graduated valedictorian of my class (which still seems like a dream, seven months later). I was in Hawaii, Cambodia, and Trinidad. I've seen things and met people who have substantially changed my life. I am so blessed.

Although the year started out amidst incredible uncertainty and tremendous academic challenges, on Easter a dream became a reality, and I have been living that dream ever since. I am so grateful to have been able to see just how much love and support I have from so many people--I know most aren't afforded that gift. It's so exciting to think what 2010 has in store for me. I will spend more than half the year finishing my time in Trinidad, and who knows what more growth and challenges will come out of that. And in August, I start medical school so that I can truly do what I love for the rest of my life, and maybe even change the world. I know at this point next year though, it will be I laughing at how the world changed me (thank you Dar Williams for the line). It will be incredible, and heartbreaking, challenging, and inspiring. Bring it on!

Christmas in Trinidad

This year marked my first Christmas away from home, and also my first Christmas in Trinidad. It was a little sad to be away from my family, and it certainly did not feel like Christmas with 85' weather, palm trees and no snow, but Christmas in Trinidad was beautiful all the same, and it reminded me how blessed I am to have so many people who care for me.

There are lights for Christmas, red and green, decorations. Most trees are fake (there is rather a shortage of evergreens in the tropics), but most families at least have a small one. Many begin to display immediately after October's Hindu festival of Divali (and as Rishi told me once, there are Hindu houses that use the lights straight through from Divali to Christmas). I stumbled upon carolers one evening while walking, a group of men, women, and children with a guitar. They left me smiling. Like in the US, turkey and ham are staples of Christmas dinner. Pastilles are another, like Mexican tamales, corn-batter surrounding chicken or pork (or vegetables...), wrapped in banana leaves and boiled. Fruitcake is another, and I've been told it really does last all year, provided you regularly douse it with cherry wine. Parang is Trini Christmas music, from the Spanish/Venezuelan influence. It is a Spanish music (now often infused with soca, which I'd try to describe but really wouldn't do justice; if you're curious, I'd recommend google), and to most Trinis, signifies Christmas. Nonprofits and clubs host parangs to raise money or gather people. South AIDS Support had one; I enjoyed it and would have more had I not been on my first day of the flu.

I had a quiet Christmas morning. I went for a walk; strangers were the first to whom I wished a Merry Christmas. Vidya came up quickly to drop a gift and give season's greetings. I talked to my family in the States and texted friends in both Trinidad and the US. And at 11:30, my friends Cindy and Patsy came to pick me up. I spent Christmas with my Trini family--Dominic, Annie, and Paul Dos Santos. The day held no exceptional stories or brilliant moments, but it was a lovely, lovely day. A few other couples from church came by. Annie cooked a fantastic dinner (and bless her, she cooked fish for me because I wouldn't eat the chicken or pork, and got me a single vegetarian pastille). We watched 2012 and had beautiful conversations. Most importantly, I felt at home and very loved. I am grateful to them all and for a first Christmas abroad I will treasure.

Saturday was Boxing Day--a British holiday, but since Trinidad was a Brisitsh colony once and loves to celebrate, now also a Trini holiday. Typically, Trinis stay home with family for Christmas and visit relatives and friends for Boxing Day. Fortunately, I have lots of friends and as such had much to do. I spent the morning with my "boss" (in quotes because technically, I don't work for anyone with my grant), who cooked me breakfast (consisting of a fruit and vegetable salad, fresh-squeezed orange juice, steamed fish, garlic bread, and fruit cake). I then spent the day with the Dimsoy family, my second Trini family. Kenneth and Denise are the parents, wonderfully warm human beings, and their kids are Tracey (18), Danielle (17), Nicolas (14) and Joelle (10). We went to the country (a beautiful inland area with short trees andw ide open spaces) to visit Kenneth's family, his wonderfully spry and very mobile 84-year-old father and 75-year old mother with a beautiful smile, as well as his brothers. Again, it was not so much a single moment, but a general feeling of being at home and loved that made the day special. Of course, I will treasure memories of walking with Kenneth, Joelle, and the lovely puppy Bubbles, and being constantly fed (our alcoholic dessert was rum raisin ice crean and fruitcake), and going back to the Dimsoys and playing a game with the family.

I am blessed to have an incredible (and large) family in Trinidad, nine brothers in Cambodia, and a wonderful, supportive family in the US. I am spending the week and into the new year in the States, visiting family and friends. This is a beautiful world. Thanks for listening, and Merry Christmas! :)

What I Love

Trinidadians, as a whole. They are warm and friendly, and so many wish me a good morning as I pass. While I didn't get many lunch offers until people got to know me a little more (now I always have a few asking what I am doing after Sunday worship), nearly every person I've met has been friendly and welcoming, making sure I am doing all right, asking about my work. It's beautiful and has helped my transition from uncertain foreigner to one who feels at home, who feels it strange that she's only been here three months because things seem so familiar.

My work. As if I haven't said enough about it yet--I am living my dream, doing exactly what I'd hoped to do. It's really close to perfect, because I get to do a bit of medical work and help the doctors, but really all I am here to do is talk to people, so I really get to know them, and they me. I had a wonderful conversation earlier with a practical nurse, and love to do the HIV test counseling because it always results in the most amazing conversations about life. Here is a safe space; people are comfortable and open here, whereas they may not always be, and it's a privilege to provide.

The children. Vidya had her Christmas treat yesterday, and although I spent much of it running around and doing various things (including making two gift runs and alleviating a near-fiasco with a lack of Santa), I loved watching the kids. One girl is ten and lives at the home in Chaguanas. Her name is Priya; she is ten, likes math, wants to be a vet, and gave me a tremendous hug when I left. On Saturday, I went to a going-away/Christmas party for Dr. Terhi from clinic, and immediately became a favorite of her three-year-old daughter Amanda and a neighbor, Mila. And Friday night, at a dinner, my companions were 10-year-old Joelle from church and her 8-year-old friend Mareka, who struck me as very smart and well-spoken for someone her age. I mean, how many 8-year-olds will tell you someone is getting her DNA all over the gummy bears? And one girl, a six year old clinic patient, drew me a picture of Winnie the Pooh and told me to put it on my wall, which of course I did.

Trini English. It sounds like a combination of British English and translated English, which if you look at the country's history, it probably is. They drop the verb "to be" from sentences often (saying "I gone" or "I going" etc). Vexed is a favorite phrase, and much more fun than it's American equivalent of "pissed off." And you "carry" people places instead of bring them. I love it.

Trini food. Roti is most popular--a fried flat bread, which is quite good, especially with potatoes, pumpkin, or channa (chickpeas). I haven't yet had doubles (which most people here are surprised at), which are similar to roti, but I will. I've had callaloo (an okra and I don't know what else soup...one woman from church makes it really well and it's delicious on rice), aloo pies (with potato), pelau (a rice dish), pastels, even oysters! My favorite though is sahina, which is fried spinach. That is incredible. I also am addicted to plantain chips, fried plantain (which I can make), and these cookies with cocoa centers.

The ocean. I see it on my way to work every morning, need to just step out the back door of the clinic to see it at work.

Rain. Single clouds are most often what rains, while it is blue sky and sunny everywhere else. In NH, we have spot showers. Here, spot downpours from these clouds. Although the rain is heavy and loud, sometimes they don't even dampen the ground they are so brief. About once a month too, there are spectacular arcing rainbows. If it rains all day though, it's often heavy for chunks at a time and not even an umbrella can save you.

I am so grateful for the experience, so happy to have seven months still left. Love to you all and thanks for listening :)

Making a Difference?

Last Tuesday was World AIDS Day. A holiday of sorts, yes, but nothing I have ever "celebrated" (remembered would probably be the best word) in the US. I think Marist had the AIDS quilt one year, but I never did have time to stop by and look at it in between classes, clubs, work, and the nine million other things I kept my hands in. I suppose there is no place more appropriate to spend your first World AIDS Day than in an HIV clinic in one of the most affected regions in the world. The morning was clinic as usual. No matter the day--Wednesday, Monday, World AIDS Day or Christmas Eve, there are still patients to see, medicines to be dispensed, blood to be drawn. Because most of the clinic staff was scurrying about making preparations for an afternoon of rapid testing on the Promenade, I was left to do half of the clerk's job (filing and making appointments), and to take all the bloods, plus my "normal" job of spreading the word about SAS. It was the afternoon that made it special, however. After finding the lab on the hill and delivering the rapid test reagents to the team, I decided to stay on the Promenade, handing out numbers for testing and talking to people about HIV and why being tested is important. Later, I also got a chance to do some post-test counseling, which I loved. It gave me a chance to sit down with individuals, and talk to them. Everyone has a different approach to being tested. Some just do it, and expect to be negative, but one woman was nearly in tears when I told her she was ok. When some young boys, maybe 16 (age is impossible to determine here; everyone looks 10 years younger than they are once they hit 30) or 17 came for results, I decided to ask them what they knew about HIV. I taught one how you get it (primarily from unprotected sex), and how you don't (kissing, sharing cups, shaking hands, etc)--and I felt like he really listened. I think I freaked another out a bit telling him how one can never be 100% sure of one's partner's status--but maybe now he'll be careful. I was flying for the rest of the week. I think, just maybe, I made a little bit of a difference that day.

Every day, working in the clinic energizes me. I get to talk to people, take bloods, hear stories, and just converse. I meet such a variety of people, too, and I have been here long enough to start recognizing faces when they return. One little girl today, about six and absolutely beautiful, kept me company for the better part of an hour this morning. I'd met her my first Tuesday here and discussed Winnie-the-Pooh stickers with her, and today she traced a drawing for me and told me to put it up on my wall, which I will when I come home. I love it because I feel useful. I feel like I am helping the staff and the doctors. And I hope I am helping the people too. I am certainly learning a lot, medically and personally.

A couple things to make you laugh. I am looking at a book on HIV from 2006, and taking notes on antiretroviral medications so I can learn (I feel like I know nothing about them)--their mechanisms of action, their names, everything. Clearly, I miss being in class :) (though I am enjoying the lack of homework that comes with this study!). And today, a woman was throwing up, and though I didn't watch, I didn't freak out either--which for those who know me, is a huge step for me. (ha!)

Love to you all! Thanks for listening :)

Thanksgiving in Trinidad

Yesterday was my first major holiday away from home, and also the first time I had hosted a major holiday myself, so it was difficult, exciting, and stressful all rolled into one. I certainly missed being with my family. On Thanksgiving at home, usually there is something like 30 people in my cousin's home in Western Massachusetts, and the day includes eating, laughter, and my 90-year-old grandmother playing the harmonica (last year we had four generations: my grandmother on the harmonica, my uncle playing the spoons, and my brother and my cousin's son playing guitar...quite a moment, really).

It didn't feel at all like Thanksgiving here. To begin with, it was something like 85 and sunny, which it is nearly every day. Green trees rustled in the slight breeze as I walked to Bamboo Junction to take a taxi to the clinic. I spent the morning (and a bit of the afternoon) in the clinic, dashing from place-to-place happily, pulling files, sticking needles in veins, smiling, talking, and handing out SAS brochures. The clinic day ended with Dr. Terhi (Finnish ID doctor who has been described by people here as a "white female rasta" because of her hair) and I (the two white girls) going into Ward 2 and taking the computer designated for use with HIV only but that hadn't yet made it to the clinic. At this point, it was 1:30, the time I had hoped to be home. I told people to come starting at 6. By the time I had made it through the grocery store, into a La Romaine taxi, and home, it was 2:30. I had less than four hours to cook everything and get things clean enough for nine people to come over. And so began an amazing cooking marathon. Somehow, by 6:10 (and my first two guests') arrival, I managed to get it all done.

The menu was marinated fish, mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, stove-top stuffing, corn bread (made by Dave) and mixed vegetables (made by Patsy), with pumpkin pie and chocolate cake (mostly in case the pumpkin pie didn't come out, since it was my first venture with a gas oven and also with real not canned pumpkin)). My guests were Dominic, Annie, and Paul, the family from church I had been initially connected to and who have been amazing to me (I love them dearly), Cindy (my ride to church) and her mom Patsy (also a lovely woman), Dave (a fellow Fulbrighter who is also helping out with a fund raiser tonight), and Vidya (my wonderful landlady) and her (beautiful and incredibly sweet) daughter Jaiya. It was an eclectic mix, but everyone got along wonderfully and seemed like they had a good time. Outside of the fish, all the food ended up very good as well--someone even complimented me on how fluffy the potatoes were (not bad for not having an electric mixer!). The problem with the fish was that I bought saltfish (highly preserved fish), and didn't realize that to really get the salt off, you had to rinse it and boil it, and I didn't have time to look for instructions or try it so it was wicked salty, to put it mildly. Still, overall definitely a success.

In light of Thanksgiving, I'd like to say some things for which I am grateful. If I were to list them all, we'd all be here hours, if not days. I'm grateful for life, for the friends and family I have who have been unconditional in their support. I'm grateful for my faith, because it makes me strong. I am grateful for the things that have happened, especially in the past year, that have changed me. I'm grateful to have seen what I did and met those I did in Cambodia; I will never forget. I am grateful to be in Trinidad now, and to really be living a dream. I'm grateful for the people here who have helped me create a home. I am grateful for the work in the clinic and the opportunities that have been given to me. I am grateful for my health and the health of those I love. I'm grateful for moments of beauty, the sea and the moon and light, for having air conditioning when I sleep, for animals (especially my little friend here, who crashed Thanksgiving till we ate and Vidya almost literally had to drag him (in fact, she carried him) next door), for rain. I am grateful for language, for diversity, for smiles. I am grateful for those little unexpected acts of kindness that really do change the world forever. And I am grateful for you, of course. Thanks for listening :)

Working at the Clinic

Sorry, I know I continue to be delinquent in letting you all know I am alive and well. I promise I am, and I continue to fall in love with Trinidad and with my work and the people here on a daily basis. It's still strange to know that November is coming to a close and it's still hot, and even stranger to know that for the first time, I will be home for neither Thanksgiving nor Christmas, but I am blessed to have many good friends here that will keep me from being lonely.

Last Monday, I started working at the Ward 2 Clinic at San Fernando General Hospital, which is the HIV clinic. Honestly, two weeks into being there, I am doing exactly what I'd hoped to do in Trinidad, something I'd come to believe was my being overly idealistic along the same vein as finding a cheap apartment with a terrace that overlooked the ocean. It wasn't. I started at the clinic because I am supposed to represent South AIDS Support. My job? To hand out brochures (they call them trifolds here, but I'm having a hard time following suit because when I think trifolds, I think of the large poster boards with wings, a la Dr. Ingalls' animal behavior poster day or any poster at any conference) on SAS, let people know about the meetings and simply that we exist. For research, I was just trying to get myself known there among the patients and staff so I could hand out surveys and arrange for interviews. I'm in a medical setting working with people. Until I can practice as a doctor, could it really be better for me?

My first week, I mostly just talked to people, which was incredibly beautiful. I was surprised at how easily people talked to me. I anticipated hesitency, especially since I am a young foreigner, but many talked openly about their experience with HIV. The stories are heartbreaking and the people, inspiring. For those who let the disease get them down, there are at least two who are determined to be stronger than it. A woman I met Wednesday possessed this incredible optimistic spirit; she inspired me. One thing I've learned is that HIV does not discriminate. It's something you read in the literature, but it's another thing entirely to experience it firsthand. I've seen children as young as 4 or 5 who are HIV-positive (and so beautiful!) and a man who is in his late 60s/early 70s HIV-positive (and showing signs of HIV- or age-related dementia). I've seen East Indians and Afro-Caribbeans and everyone in between. I've seen people who abused drugs, who had promiscuous sex, and who were 100% faithful to their partner. HIV affects everyone, and also changes everyone. Almost everyone has faced some sort of stigma and discrimination, and most have only told a small fraction of people they know. Still, almost every patient had at least fragments of hope and strength and we do all we can to foster that.

Last Friday, it was discovered that I could take blood on humans, so every time now there is bloodwork to be done, they ask me to do it. It's exciting, and I think my skills are already vastly improving. (Exciting for me, because I love this stuff...I know I'm crazy!) I also had a chance to sit in on pre-HIV-test and post-test counselling, and I'll just say that hearing the stories make real some of the things you read about in magazines and novels, and that has a profound impact. Donny, one of the nurses there, is helping me learn how to do the pre/post-test counselling. Already, I've found many ways to make myself useful--phelbotomist, file-clerk, unofficial greeter, and SAS rep. I love it. And even better, the staff has been wonderful in trying to help me. They spoke with Dr. Terhi, who is pretty much the only infectious disease doctor in South if not all of Trinidad, and she is excited to have someone excited to learn around, and promised to do all she could to help me learn from her. I sat in on a consult with a patient who needed to go to second-round antiretroviral therapy because first-round wasn't working, and I can already tell she will be a great teacher. (If anyone knows of any books on ART medications, let me know! I want to learn!) I'm so excited and can hardly believe it--I feel like I am living a dream.

Love, blessings, and peace to you all! Let me know how life is in the US! Happy Thanksgiving! Stay tuned and thanks for listening :)

Addendum

I realized I didn't really make it clear in my latest post, where I asked for help raising money for my friend and landlady Vidya to build her children's home. If you'd like to help, you can send me something to NH...16 Beebe Lane, Merrimack, NH 03054. I'll be coming home for a week right after Christmas and will be able to collect anything then. It would be easiest if writing a check if you could make it out to me, and then I will condense everything into one big check (that's certainly easier to travel with!), but if you'd like a receipt, I believe you could make the check out to V. Aguilar and as long as you're ok with waiting until I get back to Trinidad and mail it, you will have a receipt.

Also, if anyone has ideas as to how I can raise more money for her--really, I'm open to anything and everything--I'd really appreciate it! Thanks!

Something I Don't Normally Do....

For all those reading that didn't get my email, I have a favor to ask. Please read the story and let me know if you can help! It's something really important to me, or else you know I wouldn't ask.

I moved into my apartment in Trinidad a month ago, in part being able to stay where I am because my landlady, Vidya, made some concessions in cost so that I could afford it. My first Saturday, after a quiet week, she invited me over for the Hindu festival of Divali. If I asked, she would be there. At Christmastime every year, Vidya singlehandedly organizes a Christmas treat for over 100 kids from three children’s homes. This year, she has arranged for use of a water park, horseback riding, a bouncy castle, food…and she buys each child a gift and prizes for contests. She is constantly working to supply their needs, and her love for the children and the work with them is apparent in talking to her. You can see her eyes glowing. She makes you excited, makes you want to help. I wish you all could meet Vidya. She's inspiring. She has that spark, that love.

It’s Vidya’s dream to build her own children’s home in South Trinidad. She has all the tools she needs; she works on the business end of construction and land purchase, and of course, she has the passion. She’s told me the story of one young girl from Port-of-Spain, a girl who won the dance contest, surprising everyone because normally, she’s very quiet. Her addicted mother had sold her body to earn drug money. Another child, three years old and motherless, is in need of a home with a drug-addicted father. There are so many more such stories in Trinidad, and Vidya is determined to build a place those children can call home, where they can receive love and opportunity and the ability to make their dreams reality.

I know Vidya well enough to know beyond doubt that she will build this home. And because I love her, because I love the work she does and what she is able to inspire, I want to do everything in my power to help her make this dream a reality. And that is why I am writing. In this Christmas season, where generosity flows, I am asking if you would be willing to donate and help Vidya build her children’s home. I know times are tough and many people ask, but I am asking you to please consider giving a little. There are $6TT/$1US, so a little bit can go quite a long way. People have helped make my dreams a reality; please help me help make Vidya’s dream one too. With the way she wants it run, her home will give possibly hundreds of kids the ability to dream at all.

Little Things of Beauty

It's been mostly quiet, though I've managed to fill each day to the brim. Some things never change. :)

Last weekend, the church I've been going to had a workshop. It concluded Sunday night, with some wonderful speaking by an American named Parker Henderson, who an old man, short and with white hair and classes and complete by being slightly hard of hearing. He and his wife Donna had been missionaries in Thailand, and then spent 30 years in Trinidad. I wasn't sure what to expect, but I certainly didn't expect him to preach quite so powerfully and with the energy he did. And then Dominic spoke. He has a beautiful faith and passion that comes through whenever he speaks, and that night was no exception. The theme was "A Light to the Nations," and the lights went out during Dominic's talk. It ended up raising the energy level though, and made the message come through clearer. The highlight of the workshop was the church (which was as full as I've seen it) was singing a beautiful song called "There is God." Can you imagine 250+ people singing a capella in four-part harmony with all their heart there is a God/He is alive/in Him we live/and we survive/from dust our God/created man/He is our God/the great I Am as an echo. It was incredible.

Sunday was also All Saints Day. Halloween here is just starting to become Westernized, but people light candles and celebrate the dead. To get to church, we drive by a cemetery (which is actually right on a hill overlooking the ocean...a place I'd like to be buried). It was late evening, already dark. Cars were lined up on the side of the road, and as we turned the corner, graves were clustered with flowers and people and alight with candles, giving it an orange-y glow in the twilight silence. It literally took my breath away for a moment.

On Monday, as I walked to work, it started to rain. In Trinidad, we'll occasionally get days or mornings where it pours heavier or lighter for all of it, but rain typically comes and goes over regions with the clouds. We'll get one dark set of clouds--and you can usually see them coming from the sea or the hills--and it will pour for ten minutes or so, but around you, there is blue sky and sunshine. Monday was like that, one cloud raining. I had my brilliantly blue and green polka-dotted umbrella up, and I was watching the sun, and I made the comment aloud: Why don't we have more rainbows here? I turned around, and there one was, a perfect arc. It stretched from the corner of the land, over the sea and faded away just above the refineries. I stopped; Oh God, that's beautiful! The colors seemed to become more brilliant as I stood there, seems to multiply and magnify. I was reminded of the double rainbow I had seen while leaving the lab last summer, where the second one was as vibrant as most single rainbows. As this thought passed, I noticed a second, fainter rainbow above it. This one too, seemed only to glow brighter with time. I just stood there staring at it, beaming, for a few minutes. What more can you say but thank you?

Blessings to you all, and much love! Thanks for listening :)

Finally Feeling at Home

I know I've been slightly deficient in what I imagined to be weekly updates on life in Trinidad. My apologies; my apartment does not (yet) have internet, and so my time online is limited to what I do when I am at Mr. Beepath's office (which is not all the time) and any time spent with my laptop in an internet cafe. For instance, I am writing now in between phone calls to businesses on our upcoming HIV in the Workplace Policy Seminar.

I think when I last wrote, I had just moved, and I will say I absolutely love my apartment. It is comfortable and really feels like home--and the air conditioning helps me sleep and slightly reduces the amount of bugbites I find in the morning (still, I've used half my tube of hydrocortisone already). I feel like it is absolutely the right place for me, especially because my landlady also takes really good care of me, as far as rides and things I need go. She's a wonderful lady. On Friday, I went with her to visit a children's home in Couva (she works with local homes), which was interesting. It was small, and the children were at school, so I didn't get a good sense of the atmosphere, though hopefully if she visits the ones in Port-of-Spain or Chaguanas, I will be able to tag along as well. We also dashed about Chaguanas. She took me to her land that was flooded once and so not terribly productive, but absolutely beautiful as a terrific expanse of wide open space and big sky, looking at clouds that probably are touching the ocean. She and her friend Krishna also had me try oysters, which here are eaten (or the proper term is drunk) raw and in a concoction of some spicy liquids. I was thinking about my friend Malika, who said she would try anything else above the oysters, and apparently I made some really interesting faces, but in the end, I concluded that I liked the oysters, and I would try them again.

A week ago last Saturday was the Hindu festival of Divali. Not knowing many here, and particularly not many Hindus, I didn't have high hopes for doing much, but my landlady (her name is Vidya) came to the rescue again. She sent her kids over with food a couple times (one thing was a fried leafy green vegetable, which was wonderful), and invited me over for the night. With her, her son, her daughter, and her daughter's friend, I lit dias and placed them outside, watching her henna-painted hands rolling cotton for wicks because she couldn't find her actual wicks. It was magical. Divali, she explained, is the Hindu festival of lights, celebrating the triumph of light over darkness and knowledge over ignorance. Later, her son Rishi drove me around to see the dias all over the neighborhood. Whether they were precisely aligned or haphazardly put, they were beautiful. I swear, if the city lights had gone out that night, still it would glow.

I also went to a fish market a week and a half ago, and fell in love with it. There, fishermen come in with the sun to sell the night's catch (how magical must that be, to be out alone in the middle of the ocean at night with the rising moon and to watch the sunrise from the sea?) before going home to bed. The place smelled of fish, but after a minute I stopped noticing. There was an incredible energy to the place even though, as Mr. Beepath said, most of the men were older. Outside, pelicans and a few tiny gulls fought over the scraps of fish being cleaned en masse for restaurants, and crabs were being scrubbed into a bucket of brown water. Inside, a shimp vendor with a paintbrush textured white beard promised me he'd give me a discount of $2TT/lb if I wanted shrimp, because I was a pretty foreigner. Another showed me his shark carcass with fins cut off and encouraged me to take a picture of the jaw hanging from a wire. I watched the fish be cleaned and cut into chunks so their innards would come out, fish so fresh they still bled. An over-70-year-old man asked if I was British, and when I proceeded tell him no, American (no one thinks I am American...in Cambodia, I was French (which isn't too far from the truth), and here, I'm British), he told me of his son who lived in Denmark, and then danced along his platform as he cut the fish, using wood for extra oomph to cut bone, scales dotting his arms like paint splatter. As we left, he bowed and waved to us, and promised to sing me the "April Song" (because I was born in April) next time I came. I laughed and loved every minute of it. It felt authentic and full of stories, and you can bet I'll be back, buying at least shrimp from the vendor who promised a discount and who hawked his shrimp like a pro.

I hope you all are well! Please do let me know when you can! Much love and prayers, and thanks for listening :)

What I Saw While Walking

On Saturday, I took a taxi into San Fernando, to be picked up so I could help paint the apartment that was to become mine (which was a surprisingly meditative/relaxing job I think because it required just enough focus to wholly empty my mind of anything else). As I walked the promenade from the library to the hospital, this is what I saw.

I had a little ways to walk, as I had taken a maxi down because it was the first taxi I saw. Not that I minded, but by the time I reached the library and the promenade, sweat had already started running down my back and I realized a cotton shirt may not have been the best of ideas. I passed cafes and open bars (open meaning wide open to the street, not free like at weddings), vendors with tables on the street selling pirated DVD's and video games. Sometimes in Trinidad men will call out to me as I walk alone, but that's common and becoming easier to ignore. It begs the question--they often are so lewd and leave me with a feeling of disgust; do they ever really get any that way? But I digress. I was happy to get to the library, a dusty brick red and large Southern-style building, and the beginning of the promenade.

The traffic on the promenade is ususally chaotic on weekdays, parents dropping their kids off to school and taxis shuttling people to work cause congestion in the middle that is compounded by cars trying to turn in or out. Saturday though was no problem. The fruitstands where I buy my bananas for the week were open with their selection of grapes, apples and bananas creating a canopy of primary colors over a small segment of sidewalk. (Ironically, none of this food is local. The apples I bought at the supermarket still come from Washington, too.) I passed a homeless man lying in the shade of the Marcus Garvey statue across from the food court. I passed a homeless dog with dirty sandy-colored fur, slight sores, and swollen nipples from a recent litter and paused to be sure she was breathing. I passed the statue of Ghandi around whose neck some had put some brightly flowered leis that make me smile each time I pass, and the curb where faithful Jehovah's Witnesses stand in the evenings. As the hill crested, the sparkling blue ocean with it's oil tankers anchored offshore came into view, and I couldn't help smiling again. To quote Dar Williams, "Oh I must confess I was drawn, I was drawn to the ocean..."

I paused at the bottom of the hill, the place where you choose whether to turn left onto Indpendence Avenue (the way I always take to get to work) or to turn right and head either to High Street or to the ocean, so that I could call to get my ride. I found a curb in the shade and sat down, drinking some water. A homeless man who had been pacing and preaching, with a beard and dirt blue pants, looked at me and begun talking about having water and how Jesus gave to those without drink. My first thought was that he wouldn't want my water bottle because I'd been drinking out of it for days. Then I realized he was probably thirsty and wouldn't care for how long I'd had it, just that it was water. And finally, I realized that his preaching was an outlet for voicing his anger at how unfair it was that I had water and could get anything I wanted, and he was on the street--asking why, in the same way I often do. Next to me, a man was lying on a bed of cardboard, but he was regally dressed and counted what seemed to be a reasonable amout of cash, so I wondered why he was there. On my other side, a single young East Indian man held his head in his hands and rocked softly in the same rhythm the couple on his other side were as they held one another.

I finally continued, opting to take the long route to the back of the hospital because I had the time and liked the walk. I passed a man who I'd often seen at the corner as I waited for a taxi, recognizable with his bare feet, bushy beard, and visible ribs. He was asleep half in the shade on the hospital sidewalk. I paused a minute to be sure he was still breathing. Another, well-dressed woman sat on a box under an awning; as I passed she called out "Good afternoon!" until I replied, and proceeded to tell me to be careful, and not to talk to strangers unless I have to. I walked away laughing, passing the barbed wire where I had torn my skirt the week before on the way to the embassy and Port of Spain, past the ferry terminal and bus station, past an abandoned car, until I reached the hospital and my ride.

I see things like that often; it's part of why I love to watch. Work has been quiet, but I am enjoying getting to know people. And as I said in the beginning, I have an apartment into which I moved on Sunday evening (funny story...I called at 3:30 to get a sense of how things were working so that I could plan on when to pack, and she said to call her in an hour and it would be ready. An hour and a half later, after running around and wondering how on earth I got all this stuff here to begin with, I called her back, and by 6 I was in the apartment unpacking). I love the place. It's two bedrooms (so you can all come visit! Though unfortunately, the AC unit is in my room...), with AC and everything. It's a bit pricey, which caused some chaos, but thankfully, because I loved the place and the landlady and she liked me as well, she helped me out a bit and after I promised I wouldn't change my mind again, she took me (not a moment too soon, as the night I gave my deposit, someone else would have come). I am happy there, and it is nice to have a place to call home. Plus, like I said before, the landlady is pretty awesome and lives below me, which adds a sense of security.

Peace and blessings to you all! Thanks for listening :)

Week Two: Getting Settled

I had the wonderful revelation on Thursday as I was driving back to South AIDS Support that I am starting to become more open and more myself with those that I've known since getting here, which means that I am starting to really settle in, which was the biggest unexpected blessing I had this week. (As a means of explaining, I've found that especially here, but everywhere really, I tend to be really quiet and keep to myself as I get a feel for the place and people.) I have a 9-5 gig at South AIDS Support, I have a church community, a few friends already, only thing that's missing is my own apartment. So far I've seen two: one that I couldn't actually see because someone was living in it and it was in a questionable area, and the other which was small, smelled funny, and had a woman living across that would drive me nuts. So, as Gloria at work said, "if you don't like it, don't take it; you'll find something." And so I wait and hope--and God keeps reminding me that things are done in His time, NOT mine. And so the lessons in patience continues.

I really am blessed to have had everything fall into place that I did. South AIDS Support started slowly this week, but it promises to be more than I could have hoped. I literally read from 9-5 on Tuesday, balancing my book with a wonderful book by some Hopkins doctors on the medical aspects of HIV. I did attend the support group on Monday night and despite a little initial apprehension, a couple of people who I started talking to beforehand put me right at ease. It looks like I have the beginnings of a patient base. Not only did they all welcome me completely, but they all also fully supported the work I want to do and are willing to help however they can. I've also met the secretary to the Minister of Labor, and some heads of a National AIDS group because I am helping with a forum on HIV in the workplace later in the month. Oh, and I am wicked excited--I will be able to attend an international HIV summit that takes place in Trinidad at the end of November. What an honor/amazing experience for someone like me! I start working in the clinic on Monday, which should yield some more interesting stories. I think I will mostly be referring people to South AIDS, but we'll see what comes of it. With the way things have happened, I really feel like I'm supposed to be here, like there's something I am supposed to be doing, only I don't know what it is and I really hope I don't miss it!

Otherwise, all is well. I wish I could begin to describe what it's like to have almost 200 people singing something a Capella in four parts with their hearts poured into it, but that's nearly impossible. It's incredible though, to be one voice as a part of it, and to feel the music swelling and ascending. I am grateful to Gabrielle, with whom I've spent the last two weekends, for being good company. Her house is like a paradise, with lemon, mango, pineapple, banana, and other fruit trees on two acres and many windows, and it's one of my favorite places on the island. We went to the beach yesterday, which was beautiful. The sea is a perfect green color, the sand pure, and the palm trees classic. We ended up spending some time crouched behind umbrellas pointing the direction of the sea (and wind), laughing at the absurdity of it, and dashing through downpours, changing with a wrap as a towel between car doors. Still, driving back, I was relaxed to the point of wanting to fall asleep--and you know how rare that is for me. Vanilla chamomile tea and a book of poetry, and life was perfect with the evening breeze caressing me.

I hope all is well with you all also! Happy 90th birthday, Grandma! I hope you enjoyed your party! Please write when you can and let me know! Love, and thanks for listening! :)

Initial Impressions

Trinidad is labeled a developing country, which makes sense--I think I wrote last time that my very first impression of the country was that it was a cross between Phnom Penh and the US, which isn't too far from the truth. There are parts of the country that are very Westernized; for one, there is a lot of fast food. Pizza Hut, Dominoes (I really wondered if there were pizza delivery scooters but didn't dare ask), Subway, TGI Friday's, Long John Silver, and KFC are among them--though interestingly, both Stanley and Gabrielle told me that McDonalds went out of business here (good for the Trini!). I guess beef just isn't their thing. Still, it kind of caught me off guard when Gabrielle took me to a film festival on Friday and outside the movie theater was a strip mall of fast food places! With the movie theaters, large Home Depot-esque stores, internet and cell phones being very prevalent, and other things though, you can really see Western edge.

Culturally, it is still very interesting. Despite there being two primary ethnic groups--the Afro-Caribbeans and the East Indians--on Trinidad, there isn't too much mixing of cultures. I know (and Stanley and Gabrielle are examples) that a mutual appreciation for the other culture also exists, but the East Indians live in separate areans pretty much from the Afro-Caribbeans. Still, the fact that so much diversity exists in an island the size of Delaware in relative harmony is nothing short of a miracle, same with the mosque and Hindu temple located within a few miles of each other (and of a KFC) in a predominanty East Indian neighborhood. Religion is huge here, particularly Christianity in the cities. It's not uncommon to see taxis, maxis, or other cars with some proclamation about Jesus in fancy script across the back window, or to hear Christian R&B music blaring from a car's speakers. At the same time though, hearing "Let there be peace on Earth" on the organ from the Anglican church across the street on my first Sunday brought with it an incredible sense of comfort.

So far, so good in Trinidad. I start working at South AIDS Support in the morning, a job that promises to be all I hoped and more, and I give a presentation on AIDS at an elementary school Wednesday morning. I am grateful to be kept busy already, and to hopefully begin a routine (as much as can be when you'll be late to your first day of work, miss half your third, and all of your fifth...my security briefing at the embassy is on Friday). I very much look forward to finding an apartment (more challenging than it sounds, since little is posted online or in the papers in San Fernando) and establishing a home here. Then I will really begin to feel comfortable here. Stanley has been wonderful as far as taking me places and getting me used to things, like taxis (tomorrow morning) and where various sites are. Gabrielle is a wonderful woman, and I am happy to know her. Her house in a more rural area is beautiful, and she promises to be a good friend while I am here. Bill and Marie-Claire also introduced me to Dominic and Annie (via email), and they have been wonderful as well, as far as taking me to church and helping me build a community there. I look forward to the next week continuing my progress of falling in love with Trinidad! Love to you all, and thanks for listening :)

Welcome to Trinidad

After a close to a year of work on the Fulbright and six months of waiting to hear, and another six months of waiting to leave, I am finally here. I could hardly believe it when suddenly it was Thursday night and I was downstairs trying desperately to figure out how ten months of your life fits into two suitcases and a carry-on backpack (and a carry-on shopping bag....don't tell anyone, but you can get away with a shopping bag as a third carry-on!). I did it though, and with a gift of a spectacular sunset over the Caribbean from the plane to tell me I was going to be ok (along with much praying), I landed. And now I'm here.

I'd be lying if I said it was easy, starting life in another country where you know no one. The first couple of days were especially hard, as, well, it's overwhelming. But gradually, I am settling into the country and learning the patience required to begin the project. I interview tomorrow with what may be the place from where most of my patients come, and I am considering an apartment in downtown San Fernando (that I can't move into until November 1) if all goes well there. I finally have a phone, and I will be going to a Bible class tomorrow night, so I am finally getting out to meet people as well. Oh, and lest I forget her, Dr. Brathwaite, my in-country adviser, is wonderful as far as helping me make connections and find things to do, and she is always making sure I am ok. Stanley, the man who cares for her second house in San Fernando is also wonderful, taking me everywhere I need to go this week.

So what's it like? My impressions of driving it in the dark with Stanley Friday night were that it was a mix of Phnom Penh and the US--which I suppose makes sense as Trinidad is right between the two as a developing nation. It's tropical, but there are not as many palm trees as you'd expect (though there are some beautiful white flowers along with banana trees and mango trees behind the house). It's an oil nation, so en route to the shopping center, there were towers with flames dancing atop them (like giant torches with a skinny base) in our line of vision. Fruit stands with dangling bananas and apples and more dot the side of the road every few miles. Cars are "right hand drive," which takes a bit of getting used to, though the traffic is not terrifying because it is 90% saner than the traffic in Phnom Penh, what with the motor bikes flying everywhere. The English the Trini speak is not difficult for me to follow (at least not now, but I haven't spoken to many), but those I have talked to are either workers or know I speak American English so tone down the dialect. It's certainly hot--and muggy (I envy all those experiencing fall!), but I now have a fan at night, which helps a lot, and also helps with the mosquitoes (no screens; I woke up my first morning covered in bites, some of which turned into welts...oh, those Southern mosquitoes!). The country is really lovely. All those with whom I've been emailing have been so kind, as have Stanley and Dr. Brathwaite. There are a lot of wide open spaces, especially as you head into the more rural areas, so you can look over what once were sugar cane fields and watch the clouds build and taper, and know the sea is out there. From the high points in San Fernando, you can look out and see the ocean beyond the city, a beautiful blue-green with oil tankers the only obstacles to unobstructed blueness and sea-meets-sky harmony. From the right spots on the island, you can even see Venezuela on a clear day.

I know I will learn to love Trinidad. It's not perfect, and I didn't have that immediate this is where I'm supposed to be as I did in Cambodia, but I know still it's where I am supposed to be. I look forward to having a place of my own, and a routine, and getting to know people. I most look forward to the point where I call someplace here home by accident. That's when I'll know. Stay tuned, let me know how you all are doing! God bless, and thanks for listening :)

Pre-Departure II

Here we go again. In twelve hours, I'll be in the air, an hour away from Houston. In 24 hours, I will be in Trinidad, hopefully getting ready to sleep. I can hardly believe it. The time in the States went by so quickly. I have no idea what's to come, but I know it will challenge me and change me, and I am excited. I am also nervous, of course, but less so than pre-Cambodia. Packing was an adventure, most certainly :) Not living as simply as I'd like, but let's see what happens once I get there....

Love to you all! Stay tuned and thanks for listening! :)

Getting Ready to Go...Again

In five days, I will be en route to Trinidad. I can hardly believe it, and yet, I am excited and ready (almost). This week will be a chaos of visiting and getting ready, but that's the way I like it :) I have been so blessed thus far that things seem to be coming together nicely. I've heard nothing but good things about the woman who is my in-country affiliation, about working with her and all of her connections. She also responds quickly to email, which is certainly nice! A friend of one of Dr. Romero's friends has also been fantastic, as far as answering questions about things, and the one person with connections to Trinidad that I've actually met in person will be there when I arrive, which is also somehow comforting. Probably the biggest help was speaking with a previous Fulbrighter to Trinidad (who, ironically, is completing her fourth year of medical school in Washington, DC). Gillian was able to tell me about the country, what to wear, and give me a little insight into her own experience, which eased my nerves a LOT and made me REALLY excited to go. Today, Marie-Claire put me in touch with people connected to the church in Trinidad, which also brings a sense of peace. So I've gained quite a few offers as to places to stay when I get there, and people to pick me up from the airport. Not too bad, considering I didn't start really thinking about all of this until last Tuesday.

Again, it has been really fantastic to see so many people since I've been home. I will take all of that with me to Trinidad; know it makes me stronger. I feel so blessed to have you all in my life, and really, I feel just incredibly blessed in general. Love to you all! Thanks for listening! :)

Adjusting and Readjusting

I've officially been back in the US for two and a half weeks, and what a whirlwind it has been! My first week was mostly just coming off of jet lag and re-learning American culture. Coming back was definitely a shock to body and mind. I had no problem staying up later than planned when I came home, but then my body decided to wake up at 5am...so it took a little while for it to learn that nighttime is not a 4-hour nap, but rather a time to get 7-8 hours of good sleep. It was also interesting to go from the ship in Cambodia to what felt like being thrown into the heart of the consumerism in America--NYC. Don't get me wrong, I love NYC and am constantly fascinated by it. But as I was reminded by my $60 cab fare and $90 train fare, things cost more here. And then there are overpriced restaurants and souvenir shops shouting T-shirts with "I <3 NY" and trinkets no one really needs. I longed for the simpler life in the villages of Cambodia. (I still do.) It was wonderful to see a lot of the extended family when I came back, and to have a week where my brother and I were both home.

My second week took me to NY to visit Marist and all the friends there that this time, I won't see again for ten months (and that is a really strange thing to think about). I arrived on move-in day for the upperclassmen, which is when I (theoretically) would have moved in if I were still a Marist student (in reality, I never did; I always worked freshman move-in). That was strange. As I walked around Marist, I felt comfortable of course, but no longer at home. It was like I knew I didn't belong there anymore, knew I could no longer really call it home. Still, it was absolutely wonderful to see everyone, and to know how many people really care about me. To those I didn't get a chance to see, or didn't see for very long--I'm sorry! I wish I had had more time (why is it the only days I have that are significantly longer than 24 hours are days in which I'm flying? I don't need an extra 11 hours on a plane!). To those I did, thank you for making the time for me. And of course, thank you Maria for giving me a place to crash and to call home for the week! I am discovering that I am finding homes for myself all over the world.

All in all, adjusting to the US has been a challenge. As Dr. Dingman tells me, everything has changed and nothing has changed. I can feel it, and it is quite jarring, but I wouldn't trade it and the growth I know accompanies that for anything. My experience in Cambodia changed me in ways I cannot even begin to describe, and once you see poverty like that and have faces and smiles and human beings to accompany it, you can't forget it. I certainly hope and pray that I never will, and no matter what life brings, I will not lose those faces. In some ways, I tell people I am "rebelling against Western culture" in my quiet ways. For instance, I haven't worn shorts except to work out and sleep since I've been home. I didn't in Cambodia, and I was comfortable like that, so why change? It would feel strange to me any other way. I felt strange being in Starbucks so often last week after not having seen a single one in Cambodia.

You know, I don't think I'll adjust to the US before I leave for Trinidad, and that's not really a bad thing. (I will be en route in 11 days! I can hardly believe that!) I am looking forward to what's coming. Thank you to my family and all the friends I have seen since coming back to the states. You've all made me see how loved I am, and that means so much. I will take that with me and it will be an immense comfort as I am adjusting to life and making friends in Trinidad. Much love and prayers back to you all! Stay well. Thanks for listening :)

So what was Cambodia like, anyway?

As if that is a question I could even begin to answer. I realized though, with all my rapid-fire blogging in my hour each week of internet, I never did tell you much about the country, at least nothing that would help you come to know the place I grew to love.

The first thing I remember was the traffic. Oh, it terrified me! I sat in the front of Bill's truck, just kind of staring as cars crossed into the oncoming traffic to pass, and motos flew in all directions. It took me a good three days of much travel in Phnom Penh to become at all accustomed to the flow of traffic, but it came in handy because in our long weekend in Vietnam, there was a constant stream of motos down the street and we crossed on foot with the specific instructions to not change our speed--and I was ok with that. Both on my first afternoon in Cambodia and then on my second weekend (when I played tourist with a few others), I went to market in Phnom Penh. These are crowded but utterly fascinating buildings filled with people--Khmer and visitor alike (though if you are Khmer, you will always get the better price). They sell everything from food to glasses and mops to shoes to beautiful silk scarves and table cloths. There is the constant sound of footsteps and vendors calling to you Madame! Do you like? and voices bartering for the best price. My second night, Bill and Marie-Claire took me to the night market in Phnom Penh (and miraculously, I made it until we got back to the ship at 9:30pm before I got really sleepy!). This is mostly just clothes and souveniers, though the market is again frequented by both tourists and locals. As we walked past the food vendors with their array of wonderful-smelling cookings, Bill warned that it is best to buy nothing from them, because such a huge percentage of food vendors in the city are infected with hepatitis A. It was a bit of sensory overload, but I loved to just watch the people wander through, watch the city be a city at night. After the ship had moved, Piseth took me to the village market. There, vendors mostly sold varieties of food, from the magenta drangonfruit (quite possibly my favorite Cambodian food) to pomelos (basically, sweet grapefruit) to cucumbers and pickles, to whole chickens and fish still swimming in small buckets of water. There were also electronics booths for cell phone etc repair (so many have cell phones and televisions despite having little else), places that sold clothes and flip-flops. I loved it, and much preferred it to those in Phnom Penh. In Phnom Penh, you know they cater to the tourist crowd and they are just filled with city and in a lot of ways, materialism. In the village, it simply felt like Cambodia, like this was how it was supposed to be, if that makes sense.

What else? Women and children very often wore prints and outfits that looked very much like pajamas. It took me a few weeks to get used to the notion of throwing our compostibles into the river. Only a few of the villages had electricity. Rick and Gail told me as we were walking on my last weekend that this village was well-off, because the people had tin roofs which are better in the rain. People would wear their best clothes when they came on the ship. Sometimes they looked terribly uncomfortable, and sometimes it broke my heart, but I appreciated the gesture all the same. Children were much more subdued with their parents than they were on their own, when they would yell hello to me for hours (though one little boy still kept looking at me and raising his eyebrows, which always made me laugh, and another little six-year-old without front teeth would just start laughing every time I looked at him). The beautiful Khmer women told me at least once (and probably more, I just happened to have a translator this time) that I should marry Khmer, for which I was a little grateful, because it meant they wanted to keep me around. Cambodia is so different than here, and yet I love it for some of its differences and in spite of others. The people there are so beautiful, and I know this does nothing to do them, or the country, justice.

Please pray for my Khmer friends, wish them safety and peace. Stay well and God bless you all. Thanks for listening :)

Home/Introducing the Crew

I have made it safely home from Cambodia, after 30 hours of travel on Friday (I know...a day is only 24 hours...I left Phnom Penh at 10:50 in the morning on August 21st and arrived in Anchorage at 9:30 the same day. How do you call the morning in Phnom Penh? Is it yesterday? Earlier today?), flying from Phnom Penh to Taipei to Anchorage to NY. After taking a cab from the airport, I finally made it to Christine's for the night around 1am (thank you Christine!). The next day, I took the subway from Christine's to Penn Station, was afraid I'd miss my train (which ended up being delayed, almost causing me to miss my bus) to Boston, from which I took a bus to Nashua, where my parents finally picked me up. I made it home at 9:30 Saturday night. It's been great so far to see my family--we had a barbecue yesterday where I got to see so many people, which was wonderful. I am doing well, other than battling jet lag. Seriously--why did my body decide to wake up at 5am when I had only fallen asleep at midnight and gotten no more than 5 hours of sleep in the last three days? But I'm not complaining. It's strange to think of Cambodia though. As I write now, it's 10:04am on August 24, and in Cambodia, it's 9:04pm on the same day. I think of what people are doing--I see Sokun sitting on the back deck, maybe talking to Hai, Linh, or the engineer, maybe alone reading his book on engines. If I were there, I'd more than likely still be on the back deck with him.

Being completely honest, I wish I were still in Cambodia. I love seeing everyone at home, and am looking forward to visiting everyone in NY next week, but I miss the ship more than I can say. I felt so at home there. The only consolation is looking at home everything worked, I know that if I were supposed to be there for longer, I would have been.

So let me introduce you to the crew that became my family after only a few days. I told them all when I left that when I come back to Cambodia as a doctor, I would track all of them down and hire them. Really, they are all beautiful spirits and some of the best human beings I have ever met.
Captain-He has a smile intermixed with golden teeth and incredibly kind eyes. When he focused, or was thinking or concerned about something, his brow would furrow. He cares so deeply about people, it's beautiful to witness. Outside of Bill/Rick, he has the most authority of anyone on the ship, because of his age and position (age is something highly respected in Khmer culture...so if he asked Linh to cook him something or someone to take watch for him, no one would refuse). He is fun-loving, compassionate, curious and highly intelligent, and works hard, whether he be driving the ship, painting, or meandering over to help me with triage (which meant mostly translating for me as best he could with his English).
Sam Ath-the engineer (meaning he worked on the ship's engines and spent most of his time during the day in the engine room). He wears thick glasses, drinks Vietnamese green tea, and has wicked mischevious eyes. He also cares very deeply for people, and surprised me in English class once with the complexity of his sentences. He's often quiet, but loves to cause affectionate trouble. He also loves to listen to music on his phone, and I will never be able to hear the word cyanara (I think I misspelled that one!) without thinking of the song he often played on it.
Dr. Tha-with the captain and Sam Ath, the third member of my English class. He would sit and think and work so hard until he got it--he really wanted to make sure he got everything right. He would get this huge smile too when he pronounced something correctly and I told him yes! He has a great kindness in him, and the ability to stick to a task. He loves to learn and does a great deal of good, seeing 65-70 patients a day during clinic.
Bun Roth-the pharmacist. He loves to smile and laugh, and has an amazing faith. He is the only one in the crew who is balding, and he wears glasses that slide down his nose. He has a beautiful daughter who turned 13 the weekend after we all met her on the ship, and he loves children with an amazing purity. I loved watching him with the kids who always gathered off the ship--you could see his open, genuine love on his face. He really and truly is a beautiful spirit and such a good person.
Linh-the cook and most recent hire--he started the week before I arrived. Oh man, is he a good cook. He can make both Khmer food and barang (American) food--on the team's last day, he made pizza for everyone. He works really hard, and has a great smile. Apparently I say ok more than I thought, because after a week, he would look at me, smile, and say ok! all the time. He studies English hard, and I always loved talking with him because he was a wealth of information about food, Cambodian culture, and many other things.
Daven-the nurse (well, he finshes nursing school soon), dental assistant, and my primary Khmer teacher. Especially in my first couple of weeks, he and I would sit after triage and he would steadily increase my Khmer vocabulary--and then quiz me on walks and later. He probably has more education than anyone on the crew, save the doctor, and has studied agriculture as well. He looked out for me and really took care of me, always making sure I was ok, always making me sit down. He also spoke English better than almost anyone in the crew, so he made for great company often.
Hai-the electrician (which basically means nothing--I am fully convinced Hai can do almost anything non-medical, and can fix everything). He fixes lights, air conditioners, and squeaky doors, keeps track of how much water we have left, chops plants off the anchor, and studies engines, Vietnamese, and English in his spare time. Although he rarely smiles for pictures (I think it's a cultural thing), he smiles easily and his eyes smile even more easily. My first impression of him was that he was a gentle soul, and I think I was right. He is one of the most beautiful people I've met, and he understood me well, because like me, he tends to be quiet and just watch and listen.
Sokun-the night guard. He was the first person I met on the ship, coming with Bill to pick me up at the airport because he had had an endoscopy that day (otherwise he goes to bed after breakfast), and the last person in the crew to whom I said goodbye. Honestly, he was probably the best friend I had on the ship. I taught him English mostly just by talking to him every night, and by the end, his confidence was up enough that he would speak English to everyone and wanted to return to formal lessons (I gave up those after my first with him simply because he became so frustrated with it that it was difficult)--I am so proud of how far his English came! He is softspoken and mellow, loves to smile. I loved to sit outside at night, and as a consequence, spent quite a bit of time with him. If I was having a bad mnoment (I never had a bad day), somehow he always made me feel better. I always felt bad telling him I needed to go to sleep.
Piseth-last but not least, the clinic coordinator, primary translator, and person who had been with the ship the longest. He has a great smile, loves kids (and people in general), and would burst into a room with a smile and ask what are you doing? He is truly one of the absolute best people I know. He does a little of everything and anything on the ship, from laundry to lab work to triage to fixing little things to buying clothes for the children. He currently wants to study to be a lab tech, but I hope he ends up doing something with people--he has tremendous gifts and an amazing capacity for love.

That was probably way more than you wanted to know, yet it doesn't even really begin to describe who these people are, or what they meant and will continue to mean to me. I promise more writing this week, now that I am home and have the time, that will try and describe the country and a little more of the experience of which I could only scratch the surface in my frantic quick posts on limited internet. Stay well, God bless, thanks for listening :)

God bless the children

I am down to my last week in Cambodia, so next time you all hear from me, I will be back in the States (barring anything strange happening, anyway). I can hardly believe it; the time here has passed so quickly. It will be so hard to leave the boat, the Khmer family I have found in the crew (it feels like I have many older brothers who all look out for me and make sure I am ok), especially knowing that when I come back, whenever it is, things will be different. There will also certainly be some reverse culture shock. I am quite enjoying the simplicity of living on the boat, the only having what I brought, eating whatever Linh, the cook, makes, and sitting out at night on the back deck of the boat, staring at the stars, thinking, and talking to whoever comes out. There is something about a river that fills the soul.

The team left last Saturday, so things were back to normal on the ship, except that Dr. Rick is now here so we have a dentist and a physician on the ship, and triage involves a few more people. I've taken to calling people downstairs when Piseth is busy, and those waiting on the deck are very entertained at my bad Khmer. If I check people in, which involves asking name and age, those who are waiting are also very good at yelling the Khmer word for name at the patient if they give me the blank look with which I am so familiar (since I give it all the time). Still, I am getting more comfortable using the Khmer I know, which is exciting for me, and am finally doing what Hai told me to a few weeks ago, which is just speak it and get over the bad pronunciation, the need to be perfect, and the fear. That is thanks in large part too to a bunch of kids.

The last village we were at had a whole bunch of kids, my little friends as the captain calls them. They knew a bit of English, and so would stand outside the boat and shout hello to me as long as I would shout it back at them. We had a jump rope, so Saturday I went out with Piseth and Dr. Rick, and Sunday with Hai to play. The kids also love this game that involves someone hopping on one foot and trying to tag others....I don't think I ever tagged anyone when it was my turn, but I was pretty entertaining to watch, I think. The kids were a constant source of joy all week. I think every day except maybe Monday I went out to play with them after clinic ended. They were all so incredibly beautiful. On Thursday, I was with some of the crew at someone's house eating fish paste with some other strange things (not my favorite dish that I've had here, but better than it sounds), and the children ran back and forth from the house, where some older girls were waiting, to me, asking questions and dashing back with my answers. The questions ranged from what is your name and where are you from to do you love me? They were also fascinated by my camera, and as a consequence, I have about 200 pictures of little kids. It was so hard to leave them Friday. They all kissed my cheeks and wrapped their arms around me, and stood to wave until the ship was out of sight. I wonder what will be come of them, if they will remember us.

I will have taken something like 1000 pictures by the time I come home, and so I will certainly spend some of the week I'm home posting some for you all to see. It's impossible to capture anything close to what it's like here though, much in the same way there are no words to really tell you what I'm seeing here and how it is affecting me, what it means. To leave you with something fun though, the crew has realized that I will try almost anything and have made it their goal to get me to try as much as possible. Thus far, I've had sugar cane juice, fish paste, many different fruits and dishes, rice things, something in flour and tumeric, and I almost tasted rat (but Linh made me nervous--he tells me it's good...for people like me who like it). They also make soup with whole fish (including heads...which I don't eat), and entire chickens. I had a chicken foot once, and I looked at Hai and asked what do you do with it? and he told me to put the whole thing in my mouth and eat it, then laughed. Oh, the barang who knows nothing about how to eat Khmer (though I am learning!).

I will write again when I come home. Stay well, God bless, love you all! Thanks for listening :)

Two Weeks with the Team

I figure that although I have a couple pre-written things and there's still so much I haven't told you, you'd probably rather hear about what I'm doing now, right?

For the last two weeks, we've had a medical team with us on the ship from AK. Included with them were two doctors, two nurses, a preacher, and a 16 year old. Because there were so many and they were used to doing labs, I moved from my normal position doing triage (which is basically just taking temps and blood pressures on everyone who comes in and then sitting, smiling and making the patients laugh with my lack of Khmer and my attempts to learn it while they wait to see the doctor) to the lab. I counted 21,000 amoxicillin as I waited for them to send me people. We have a really small lab here (I'll put a couple pictures up when I get back to the US), and limited things, which is fine since I can run precious little anyway--and all I can run is thanks to my work at Ferry Road (Deb, if you're reading, thank you!). I ran urine dipsticks, glucose tests, and hematocrits. Because I could never get enough blood for a crit on people from a fingerstick (and if I could, I'd be afraid it would clot), I learned how to take venous blood on humans, and by the end, I even did pretty well with kids (they have veins that are so hard to see!). It made me happy anyway.

With the team here, we saw 1000 patients a week. In the first village, every morning we were able to give numbers out to almost everyone in line every morning, which was so exciting for me. In the last village, there were still 100 people left, even though we gave 200 numbers, and others not in line grabbing my arm and begging for a number. I had to keep my eyes on the doctor and not look at how many were left, or else I don't know if I'd have been able to walk away. It really did break my heart. But we were able to help so many. It was amazing and exciting. There were of course sad cases, such as a woman with squamous cell carcinoma that had taken up half her face, but who was 83 and turned down the referral to have it removed. Even in the US, even if she did go, the odds of the cancer taking over her face before something else took her were minimal. Still.... It really though felt like such a privilege and blessing to be a part of something so big and something that maybe did make a difference. Though then again, I am reminded of what Maria keeps telling me, and what Bill, the preacher again told me, and what I talked about in my speech--just drop the pebble, plant the seed. There are always ripples. Do what you can, and God will take care of the rest.

Anyway, we're in a new village now. Yesterday, I went with Bill and Marie-Claire to see a giant Buddha that was a speedboat ride and 2km walk from here, which was fun. We're right in front of Sokun's house--he's the night guard and the one with whom I talk almost every night and therefore teach English to. It's neat, and I can see how happy it makes him to be here. The kids here are like kids everywhere--they love to laugh and have fun. They especially love when the crew and the barang (foreigners) play with them :)

Stay well and God bless, and please do let me know how you all are doing! Thanks for listening! :)

Another Brief Update

Well, since I can't figure out how to actually copy and paste posts I've written from word and notepad, this is the best I'll be able to do, and I need to keep it brief because internet costs money here. We are keeping busy--on Tuesday, a doctor and her grandson from TX left--they'd been here 5 days, and a team from AK came yesterday, and we saw over 180 patients. It's amazing. I'll write more about clinic in the future, but trust me, it's a powerful thing. There are so many, and the need is so great--not an urgent need for medical care, just for care, I think. The little kids are wonderful. I like them best, because you can communicate so much to them without language. I made a couple of friends in the last village we were at, and they came down to visit me a few times, including Friday before the ship left. I also love the old ladies, who are the most fascinated by my white skin, big nose, and freckles. I continue to help the crew with their English, and I really feel like they have become my Khmer family. They are really all fantastic people, full of kindness and wonderful smiles--beautiful spirits, I think of them, as Hai the electrician says something remarkably beautiful, or I watch Piseth or Bun Roth play with the kids (they both have such a gift for kids!). I am learning so much about the culture and the people. I am at peace even in frustration. I love it.
And I do need to say--I spent last Saturday in Phnom Penh. We visitd both the Palace and the Killing Fields. The latter was so powerful--to really be in a place where history occurred, such a history of great cruelty. It's not something I could begin to understand.
But to end on a happy note, there was a woman the other day who just sat down and smiled at me while I took her blood pressure. She only had one tooth, but the smile was so beautiful.
Sorry to be so brief. I promise more later, or at the very latest when I come home. Love and blessings to everyone. Thanks for listening :)

Briefly--From Cambodia

I know it's been a while. Sorry, I only have internet about once a week, and the last couple of times (including now), I've not had my flash drive with me to put up the entries I've written in Word. I did want you all to know though, that I am here and well. I've been here just over a week. Cambodia is a beautiful country, though not necessarily in the traditional sense of the word. I love being on the Mekong (especially at night...it's so peaceful!). It's very brown though--makes the Hudson look clean. People still wash in it though, brush their teeth with it, use it to drink even when they are desperate. We are well taken care of on the ship though--on weekdays, we have a cook making 3 meals a day for us (very good cook), there's fruit with every meal (dragonfruit is one of my new favorite things), and the rooms have air conditioning. In so many ways, I'm very grateful for it, but in others, I feel almost as though I shouldn't be living in such luxury. The crew on the ship is wonderful. All speak a little English, and a few speak very well. I help Marie-Claire a few times a week teaching English to the engineer, the captain, and the doctor, and also with the night guard, Sokun. I really love teaching--it's such fun, and I love the chance to work with the crew in that regard as well. Bill and Marie-Claire are great teachers as far as culture and the like go, and I am learning Khmer from the nurse on the ship, Daven, who speaks very good English as well. We do Khmer lessons in downtime. I'm up to body parts :) I'll write more about Phnom Penh and clinic when I update again from the ship, so you can see how it's going. The country is so different, and yet I have felt nothing but tremendous peace the entire time I've been here. This is where I'm supposed to be, no doubt about it.

Stay tuned, and thanks for listening :)

Pre-Departure

So I leave tomorrow night. I don't think the reality of it has truly hit me yet; it still feels surreal that I'll be flying halfway around the world in something like 36 hours (and probably by the time some read this, I'll be there!). I am absolutely so excited to be going there, and doing the work I'll be doing--it feels exactly like what I'm supposed to be doing, especially with the way everything worked out so perfectly for it. Which doesn't of course mean I'm not also quite nervous...

But as Maria's told me, I am so blessed and protected. That is the truth. I know I'll be just fine, and the experience will change my life (an exhilarating thought!). But thanks for the prayers and support! And thanks for listening :)

Fulbright Orientation

Two days home from DC, NY in four days, Cambodia in ten. Now that the last "place" is off my checklist, the next time I go somewhere, it will include Cambodia. It feels so incredibly...real. I almost can't believe it. I oscillate between exhilaration, anticipation, and fear.

The orientation was wonderful. My roommate was also going to Trinidad, and she went to Amherst, which is so close to where my extended family has lived forever. She's the only one of the four of us going to Trinidad who is not doing AIDS work, but she is instead doing creative writing, so still tied to the rest of us between the writing component to my goals in Trinidad and another whose project includes "ethnomusicology." It was mostly informative, both in practical knowledge (safety, grant details, health insurance) and experiential knowledge (those who have been sharing their experience). I wish more of the region-specific stuff dealt with the Caribbean, but it was still good to hear. Those who talked about their time in the country were most helpful. I'm not the kind of person who learns from websites or bland information being spread, but rather from doing, seeing myself. This was close--it was personal narrative.

I know now to bring dress clothes to Trinidad, to wait until I get there to get a permanent place to stay so I can be sure it's safe. I learned we are called citizen diplomats and are supposed to do more than just our projects, that volunteering and community involvement and simply getting to know people are the most valuable things you can give and take away. It may take three doors with locks to get inside, and you always have to be aware, but it doesn't mean you should spend all your time there afraid--just cautious. It will take time to adjust, but most fall in love with it and say the experience defined their lives. I am excited to get to know a different country, to work with the brilliant Fulbrighters I met and be inspired. I know the country's "Trini time" will be different for a type A like me...that will be interesting :)

In general, I need to say that I loved being back in DC in general. That city feels like home to me in so many ways. It's become a friend. I walked by a few homeless and realized that meeting their eyes acknowledged them and once you know them as human, you cannot ignore it, cannot unknow it. The question is what will you do, and that I don't know. I watched the rain (and hail) fall in torrents, and it was beautiful when seen from a window, notebook in hand. Just walking around and existing within the city is enlivening in its own way.

Thank you Sean and Leonor (and Lena and Ana) for giving me a place to sleep and for generally taking wonderful care of me for the days on either end. I am so blessed to know you. Thank you Drs. Kumar, Pataki, and Smith, and Marcia at Suburban for your smiles and the wonderful faith you have in me, only having known me for two summers. To the Meltzer Lab, I am glad to see little has changed. I will be back :)

From the Gospel on Sunday: Do not be afraid. but have faith. It felt as though it were directed at me.

God bless you all. Thanks for listening :)

Hawaii Part Two

As promised, the remainder of the Hawaii trip. It's been quite a change coming home to rain and chilly weather, but so much is coming I can't help but be excited...

May 30
Slack key guitar concert performed by a couple--the male half had been playing this traditional style since he was six. I wasn't sure I'd like it at first, but the stories the couple told throughout made it special. Sandy, the woman, called everything "beautiful"--I understood why. There is no stronger word. She would close her eyes whenever her husband played and after, she'd smile and look at him with a mix of admiration, adoration, and pure love. It was, well, beautiful.

June 2
A "nothing" day--brunch, lots of reading, rummy, lunch, reading, town, rummy, dinner, sunset, rummy. I'll admit concern--I don't do "nothing" well. I thrive on plans and packed schedules. The prospect of a day with nothing but the resort's weekly continental breakfast and laundry? Daunting, but I enjoyed it, the sleeping in, the relaxation, the ample time to read, and now, nearing bedtime, I'm still tired. Maybe it's the sea breeze.
It was windy till mid-afternoon. I loved it, sitting out reading with the wind in my face, watching whitecaps in the water and palm fronds do the hula.

June 4
I love the way the waves come in at angles to form a v right below the balcony. I love the deep aquamarine of the sea. I love the wind off the water, in my face; I feel it lightens me. I love the currents and choppy waves while snorkeling. It reminds me of the truly awesome power of the sea, that it can suck you in and is much more powerful than you. Yet its reminders are nothing you can't swim through, nothing that truly hurts you, only leaves you with a lingering (and humbling) sense of wonder and awe.

June 7
On the Kalalau trail: At times, the trail wouldn't be visible on the next bump, and you'd ask aloud, how the hell do we get around that? or you'd see the trail and ask how do you climb that?. The cliff parts, inches away from a slow down where the sea crashed into the rocks, were often loose scree and at times, seemingly impossibly angled. At parts it took your breath away, walking along cliffs straight down to the crystal clear ocean (so clear you could see the reef underneath it). Sometimes it took away your powers of speech.
God bless the maintainers of this trail (I can't imagine doing anything to it...), those natives who cut it, and the inventors of trekking poles and ibuprofen (I wouldn't have made it without those two things...)

June 9
I wish I could have transformed into a dolphin today. They have such fun playing with one another and with the boats. While hiking, we watched them--some just kept leaping out of the water and leaping and leaping....Pop and Matt essentially had to drag me away.

June 11
Queen's Bath. I loved climbing lava rocks, but the fish were nothing too spectacular. With some, their silver glinted in the sun, and a few looked genuinely bug-eyed terrified when they seemed stuck as I hovered above. The sea turtles made it all worthwhile. The baby was the size of the snapping turtles at home. They were jostled by the waves, but not too much, and when they surfaced, they were so close you could really see them--breathtaking!
It rained after dinner--beautiful, especially watching all the places it was raining and not raining. And before the sun set, a rainbow.

That may or may not be everything (I like the ambiguous endings lol).
I realized after I'd sent it out that my link to the pictures was wrong. This is the real link: http://picasaweb.google.com/nickiboisvert.
Thanks for listening :)

Hawaii Part One

Since I just came back from Hawaii, and managed to write each day to keep tabs on what I was doing/seeing, I figured I would share some with you. I'll try and post some pictures here at some point, but should have sent the link to my pictures to you all as well.

Hawaii: greeted us with dolphins our first morning and said good bye with a rainbow our final night.

May 25: Flying
1pm keeps repeating itself. Wandering the aisles, I see: a couple asleep, leaning on one another. A few others, asleep, mouths open; others somehow lying across three seats. I can't sleep (Tylenol PM for Cambodia!).
I open the Pslams to songs of praise, familiar songs of praise, and Naomi Shihab Nye to something similar, giving thanks. All is done but for the grace of God.
With clouds above and clouds below, and blue sky and blue sea, I wonder if there is truly a firmament separating sea and sky, or if it's just space, or if the two meld together as one and we are simply fortunate not to drown. After all, sky is as high up as we perceive it, and that depends on where in space we are.
If eternity exists (and where it exists?) this blueness above and below could stretch into it and it would be peaceful and teeming with life. It would be beautiful.

May 27: Day 2
After our ultralight ride (www.birdsinparadise.com--my shameless plug for a fantastic ride.): major adrenalin rush going up. Once you adjust to the fact that there's air and space all around you, amazing. The coast was spectacular, surreal, like a scene from Jurrassic Park (which was actually filmed in part on the NaPali coast). A large pod of dolphins, sea turtles, coral below...perfection. I wasn't as moved as I'd hoped I'd be, but I was smiling and it was spiritually fulfulling, if that makes sense.

May 28: Day 3
While hiking and contemplating how overwhelmingly beautiful the scenery was--almost too much so to truly be adequately appreciated: As I neared the car, it started to rain. To my disgustingly sweaty body, it felt like a profound act of mercy. Perhaps it was; God is in the details too, and the details are equally if not more important.

May 30: Day 5
Two women with a little girl, building a coral sand castle--it looked like three generations.
I had a yes! moment, where I felt utterly connected. While snorkeling (which is always awesome--solitary, exploratory, oh! there's a nifty fish so close I could about touch it!). There was a turtle, which was awesome in itself, but being me, I stayed a while, watching it emerge from its rock hideout, surface on and off, before returning. Just me, the turtle, and the vast ocean. It was incredible.

More to come! Thanks for listening :)

Beginning

Now that I'm back from Hawaii, I've finally begun the blog I promised. I promise to try my best to keep it updated so everyone can keep tabs on where in the world I am and how I'm doing there! Thanks for listening :)