Happy New Year lovely people!
So I've finished my five week retreat outside Kathmandu, and have spent the past six days in Pokhara, a beautiful town in central Nepal with a large lake surrounded by mountains. Apparently its one of the best places in the world for paragliding, but I wouldn't know. I've been groundside--relaxing and settling back into life outside the walls of a pefectly kept monastery.
My five weeks at Kopan Monastery were--no words really. Probably the best thing I've ever done for myself. Without getting into the depths of it, I can say that Kopan in one of the most beautiful, peaceful places on earth. It's a main center for the FPMT- the Foundation for the Preservation of the Mahayana Tradition--which runs all sorts of courses on Buddhism all over the world. Kopan is on a hill up above the Kathmandu valley. The gardens are immaculate and the whole place is covered in flowers--marigolds, the purple and white paper flowers, bright orange needle neck flowers that grow in vines and hang off trees, poinsettas the size of cars, and really special purple and white starbursts the size of your hand. There are prayer wheels all around, and everything is painted boldly in red or orange.
The abbot there, Lama Lundrup, is one of the cheeriest people you'll ever meet. When Kopan started, Lama Lundrup did EVERYthing for the monks-taught all the courses, all day long- and this was before they even had sleeping quarters and they slept in tents and ate only rice. And yet now, he thanks US for coming to Nepal and working so hard! Humility at its peak. Plus, he sounds EXACTLY like yoda and says things like "I rejoice you!" Every time you see him- he blares "Hello! Tashi Delek!" AFter teaching, he thanks US, again, for listening. Oh my.
In short, it was a truly precious time to really pause and consider what I want to make of my life. Purpose? Meaning? It was a supportive atmoshpere to deeply reflect on how to restructure my life and give it meaning- to be more kind, more patient, and more generous. It was an experience I wish every person could have- to pause and to reflect.
With that, I wish you all a happy, joyful new year! i hope all is well in the states, new orleans, missouri, france, granada, italy, mexico, illinois, england, ghana, and wherever else the wind has taken you, my lovely friends.
big hugs from nepal!
Saturday, January 03, 2009
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Temple Midgets
Ah.
Passed through the congestion of Thamel, the tourist strip of Kathmandu, and am now up in Bouddha, the Tibetan area of town part way to Kopan, where I start retreat in two days.
Spent the weekend in KTM with new friends, the party crowd that surfs around asia for the good scene. Funny people, interesting people. Omanis, (have you ever met an Omani? I hadn't. They weren't particularly amused by my excitement, but they were gorgeous.)Greeks, Italians, Nepalis, Tibetans, Indians, and me.
Spent yesterday sleeping off a touch of sickness, finally emerging this morning to head down to the stupa. Bouddha is built around a massive and well-kept stupa. Huge and white, its adorned with hundreds of strings of prayer flags, thousands of cups of marigolds that the devout must place around every morning, prayer wheels, and images of the Buddha and Guru Rinpoche (Not to mention Garuda and Ganesha--interesting how Buddhism and Hinduism mix here) carved into the side and covered in red paint.
It is always interesting to be a foreigner trying to find a place in a different land. You can embrace the full on tourist identity, shopping up a storm and drinking imported beer. You can be the sensitive traveler, keeping your camera to yourself and trying not to be obnoxious. But what if you really want to embrace part of a different culture? That's a whole different picture entirely. Walking around the stuppa, thinking, "what if i believe this? what if i believe in this faith?" Will that seem odd to locals? Where does that put you?
Anyhow, onto temple midgets. So I've circled this stuppa and finally come to the small room with the two prayer wheels about the size of a small VW. I hear squealing in the corner- children, perhaps. Then a very small man emerges, no taller than my waist, and encourages me to spin the prayer wheel. As I round the second, another temple midget, clad in the same marshmellow coat, is being tossed around playfully by an older Nepali/tibetan and laughing gleefully. Laughing loudly, and fully expecting to see Gene Wilder around the next corner, I walk around perhaps three times, more to see the happy little men then to accumulate any kind of merit. As I pass again, they motion, laughing, to their little bags of rice and money- offerings. Yes, little men, I will leave you some rupees, if simply for being the happiest people I've seen in a long time.
Passed through the congestion of Thamel, the tourist strip of Kathmandu, and am now up in Bouddha, the Tibetan area of town part way to Kopan, where I start retreat in two days.
Spent the weekend in KTM with new friends, the party crowd that surfs around asia for the good scene. Funny people, interesting people. Omanis, (have you ever met an Omani? I hadn't. They weren't particularly amused by my excitement, but they were gorgeous.)Greeks, Italians, Nepalis, Tibetans, Indians, and me.
Spent yesterday sleeping off a touch of sickness, finally emerging this morning to head down to the stupa. Bouddha is built around a massive and well-kept stupa. Huge and white, its adorned with hundreds of strings of prayer flags, thousands of cups of marigolds that the devout must place around every morning, prayer wheels, and images of the Buddha and Guru Rinpoche (Not to mention Garuda and Ganesha--interesting how Buddhism and Hinduism mix here) carved into the side and covered in red paint.
It is always interesting to be a foreigner trying to find a place in a different land. You can embrace the full on tourist identity, shopping up a storm and drinking imported beer. You can be the sensitive traveler, keeping your camera to yourself and trying not to be obnoxious. But what if you really want to embrace part of a different culture? That's a whole different picture entirely. Walking around the stuppa, thinking, "what if i believe this? what if i believe in this faith?" Will that seem odd to locals? Where does that put you?
Anyhow, onto temple midgets. So I've circled this stuppa and finally come to the small room with the two prayer wheels about the size of a small VW. I hear squealing in the corner- children, perhaps. Then a very small man emerges, no taller than my waist, and encourages me to spin the prayer wheel. As I round the second, another temple midget, clad in the same marshmellow coat, is being tossed around playfully by an older Nepali/tibetan and laughing gleefully. Laughing loudly, and fully expecting to see Gene Wilder around the next corner, I walk around perhaps three times, more to see the happy little men then to accumulate any kind of merit. As I pass again, they motion, laughing, to their little bags of rice and money- offerings. Yes, little men, I will leave you some rupees, if simply for being the happiest people I've seen in a long time.
Friday, November 14, 2008
"You have hair like bob dylan" and other such adventures
Whee! I'm back in Asia!
It doesn't feel shocking anymore, and is actually rather comfortable--the whole Asia thing that is. I suppose I have a tendency to worry and create tremendous anxiety before a big change, but in actuality, I'm having a great morning.
I woke up my first day to a foggy Delhi morning- the sun rising over tropical tree tops. I did some tai chi on our roof top garden, realizing by the time I was done that the fog was actually just pollution and remembering that Delhi is gross. Met another american girl traveling solo and spent the day drinking chai and laughing with funny Indian shopkeepers.
The journey to Kathmandu was also quite lovely. I decided this trip to do things a bit differently, so I am without camera or guidebook. Somehow, this has not made a bit of difference, except that perhaps the universe is conspiring to introduce me to lovely new friends who will help me along the way. The train ride was pleasant, spend with a family of young girls and an older grandmother who did the BEST train impersonation I have ever seen. As I was playing with the cutest of the young ones, the mother decided to tell me that the little brat was actually talking smack- saying even she could get her hair cut, why couldn't I? Rather hillarious. Happened to sit next to the one other westerner traveling to Nepal, so we hopped the 4:30am bus to the border.
The crossing went well, thanks to my guardian angel Yogel, a Tibetan/Nepali who runs two restaurants in Kathmandu and knows more about the Merry Pranksters than I do (apparently one of them now lives in Kathmandu, under the name Dorje, and has become a monk). He got us through and helped us get buses at normal prices. He has also been a great guide around the city.
I'm headed up to Boudha, the Tibetan part of town, tomorrow, and then to Kopan probably the next day.
Also, a note on Nepal: I love this place. The drive up went through verdant mountainside forests (and the occasional road block- "how people are expressing themselves" now with the new government). The people are also beautiful. There are many I could mistake for turks or italians, some distinctly chinese looking, and all you could imagine in between.
chai count: 5
It doesn't feel shocking anymore, and is actually rather comfortable--the whole Asia thing that is. I suppose I have a tendency to worry and create tremendous anxiety before a big change, but in actuality, I'm having a great morning.
I woke up my first day to a foggy Delhi morning- the sun rising over tropical tree tops. I did some tai chi on our roof top garden, realizing by the time I was done that the fog was actually just pollution and remembering that Delhi is gross. Met another american girl traveling solo and spent the day drinking chai and laughing with funny Indian shopkeepers.
The journey to Kathmandu was also quite lovely. I decided this trip to do things a bit differently, so I am without camera or guidebook. Somehow, this has not made a bit of difference, except that perhaps the universe is conspiring to introduce me to lovely new friends who will help me along the way. The train ride was pleasant, spend with a family of young girls and an older grandmother who did the BEST train impersonation I have ever seen. As I was playing with the cutest of the young ones, the mother decided to tell me that the little brat was actually talking smack- saying even she could get her hair cut, why couldn't I? Rather hillarious. Happened to sit next to the one other westerner traveling to Nepal, so we hopped the 4:30am bus to the border.
The crossing went well, thanks to my guardian angel Yogel, a Tibetan/Nepali who runs two restaurants in Kathmandu and knows more about the Merry Pranksters than I do (apparently one of them now lives in Kathmandu, under the name Dorje, and has become a monk). He got us through and helped us get buses at normal prices. He has also been a great guide around the city.
I'm headed up to Boudha, the Tibetan part of town, tomorrow, and then to Kopan probably the next day.
Also, a note on Nepal: I love this place. The drive up went through verdant mountainside forests (and the occasional road block- "how people are expressing themselves" now with the new government). The people are also beautiful. There are many I could mistake for turks or italians, some distinctly chinese looking, and all you could imagine in between.
chai count: 5
Friday, September 19, 2008
My grandmother is voting Obama
My grandmother is a beautiful woman. Growing up she played piano, and as her friends passed away they donated their organs and pianos to her--the result of which is a front room with FIVE different string/key instruments. When I was little we used to play old show tunes.
Now is a different time. She is like an oak tree, and the arthritis has turned her fingers into crooked old branches. She still has the same laugh, with a little click in it, and beautiful white hair like an angel. She is generous and kind and practical and smart. And she cannot vote for a black man.
Ever since she's voted, its been straight democratic ticket. When I was home a few weeks ago, we talked politics, as we always do, and she ended up (in her age, perhaps) rambling a bit about race issues in the United States. "Why do they blame us?" She doesn't see her connection to these issues and doesn't like to feel at fault. It was a different time then, and God bless her, its not for me to judge who she can and cannot vote for. I talked to her, trying to persuade. Mom later said she would simply leave the president slate blank and vote no one.
And now the banks are falling. Thanks to all you damned libertarian economists wanting to deregulate everything--glad you robber barrons can run away with our money and let the GOVERNMENT save us. Thats for later. Anyhow, after living through the depression, and remembering the value of new deal policies, and listening to Barack, my grandmother decided to vote for Obama.
Lets weigh the significance of this: She's old, she's white, and she's Southern Baptist. And she's voting for Barack Obama.
Hallelujah!
Listen up guys, if my grandma can do it so can anyone. Hope! Lets get to work and swing some voters!
Now is a different time. She is like an oak tree, and the arthritis has turned her fingers into crooked old branches. She still has the same laugh, with a little click in it, and beautiful white hair like an angel. She is generous and kind and practical and smart. And she cannot vote for a black man.
Ever since she's voted, its been straight democratic ticket. When I was home a few weeks ago, we talked politics, as we always do, and she ended up (in her age, perhaps) rambling a bit about race issues in the United States. "Why do they blame us?" She doesn't see her connection to these issues and doesn't like to feel at fault. It was a different time then, and God bless her, its not for me to judge who she can and cannot vote for. I talked to her, trying to persuade. Mom later said she would simply leave the president slate blank and vote no one.
And now the banks are falling. Thanks to all you damned libertarian economists wanting to deregulate everything--glad you robber barrons can run away with our money and let the GOVERNMENT save us. Thats for later. Anyhow, after living through the depression, and remembering the value of new deal policies, and listening to Barack, my grandmother decided to vote for Obama.
Lets weigh the significance of this: She's old, she's white, and she's Southern Baptist. And she's voting for Barack Obama.
Hallelujah!
Listen up guys, if my grandma can do it so can anyone. Hope! Lets get to work and swing some voters!
Wednesday, July 02, 2008
Organs and Labyrinths
I figure since New Orleans is pretty much one of the best cities ever, I should dedicate some past due blog time to it.
Here, a little story just for you:
Yesterday after work I biked over to Trinity Episcopal Church on Jackson Avenue. Bike rides through the city have become strolls through nostalgia- thick, deep, and clingy nostalgia that matches the tone of the city in the summer. I passed the Superdome on Poydras-and instead of remembering Step it Up or the Home Show, I remembered graduation. I remembered embracing drunk friends in the morning, and saying goodbye to them in the afternoon. The CBD- my law firm days. Corner of Jackson and St. Charles: Zulu after the craaaziest lundi gras of my life- covered in gold paint, catching a coconut, finding my dearest friends on the same corner. But enough of this, onto church!
So Trinity has one of the finest organs in the nation. There are over 5,000 pipes and it took installers almost 3 months to build the thing. On Tuesday nights, some genius with a foreign name plays the organ while interested persons come to walk the labyrinth. Have you ever walked the labyrinth? It looks like a celtic knot, but it comes from the floor of some 11th century French Cathedral. They built one in Columbia, Missouri outside Boone County Hospital. It sits on top of a hill, so when you reach the center--where you meditate, pray, etc--you look down over Stevens lake. I walked it two and a half years ago and have loved it since.
The entire ceremony was terribly pagan. Here we are, in some giant Episcopal church, with dozens of candles glowing in a circle around an ancient labyrinth. The organ music was the perfect opening tune to a B horror movie about a cult in the woods. Sometimes it got so creepy that I would have to walk faster to get away from the damned thing. Apparently its beautiful.
As for the walking itself, I might as well have been doing Tai Chi. In fact, for awhile during the slow, walking meditation, I did the cat walk (the tai chi walk with your heels first). It's all about breath, about shedding current thought and connecting with the divine. How wonderful.
So around we went, five of us in this labyrinth, and after about 45 minutes you pop out, and just like that, you leave.
As I was exiting, I was caught by the shaky little lady who had been, with some difficulty, lighting candles before the ceremony. Although she's aged, she has dark hair and wore a bright purple shirt. "Is this your first time?" she asks, in the most splendid French accent I've ever heard. We proceed in conversation- and each time she says "lab-a-reenth" I am overjoyed by her Frenchness. (I realize now the the only French I have known in my life have been men- go figure. Their accents, I now realize, do not even compare to that of their female counterparts). Her name is Manu. How perfect?
and, there you have it, an hour of my summertime life. mwah.
Here, a little story just for you:
Yesterday after work I biked over to Trinity Episcopal Church on Jackson Avenue. Bike rides through the city have become strolls through nostalgia- thick, deep, and clingy nostalgia that matches the tone of the city in the summer. I passed the Superdome on Poydras-and instead of remembering Step it Up or the Home Show, I remembered graduation. I remembered embracing drunk friends in the morning, and saying goodbye to them in the afternoon. The CBD- my law firm days. Corner of Jackson and St. Charles: Zulu after the craaaziest lundi gras of my life- covered in gold paint, catching a coconut, finding my dearest friends on the same corner. But enough of this, onto church!
So Trinity has one of the finest organs in the nation. There are over 5,000 pipes and it took installers almost 3 months to build the thing. On Tuesday nights, some genius with a foreign name plays the organ while interested persons come to walk the labyrinth. Have you ever walked the labyrinth? It looks like a celtic knot, but it comes from the floor of some 11th century French Cathedral. They built one in Columbia, Missouri outside Boone County Hospital. It sits on top of a hill, so when you reach the center--where you meditate, pray, etc--you look down over Stevens lake. I walked it two and a half years ago and have loved it since.
The entire ceremony was terribly pagan. Here we are, in some giant Episcopal church, with dozens of candles glowing in a circle around an ancient labyrinth. The organ music was the perfect opening tune to a B horror movie about a cult in the woods. Sometimes it got so creepy that I would have to walk faster to get away from the damned thing. Apparently its beautiful.
As for the walking itself, I might as well have been doing Tai Chi. In fact, for awhile during the slow, walking meditation, I did the cat walk (the tai chi walk with your heels first). It's all about breath, about shedding current thought and connecting with the divine. How wonderful.
So around we went, five of us in this labyrinth, and after about 45 minutes you pop out, and just like that, you leave.
As I was exiting, I was caught by the shaky little lady who had been, with some difficulty, lighting candles before the ceremony. Although she's aged, she has dark hair and wore a bright purple shirt. "Is this your first time?" she asks, in the most splendid French accent I've ever heard. We proceed in conversation- and each time she says "lab-a-reenth" I am overjoyed by her Frenchness. (I realize now the the only French I have known in my life have been men- go figure. Their accents, I now realize, do not even compare to that of their female counterparts). Her name is Manu. How perfect?
and, there you have it, an hour of my summertime life. mwah.
Friday, March 14, 2008
Comfort
Life has been really spectacular. Life has been comfortable, exciting, scary. Scary because for the first time in years I have settled into an area, a niche, a group of people who love me... I'm not scared of graduating; I'm ready to be done with this damned thesis. I realize, however, that I am scared this will all go away. I've been high for so long, and I remember the lows and I don't want to go back there. I couldn't take it. I think I'm a stronger person now--as if all this good has somehow built me up and prepared me for what comes next.
I suppose I'm headed back to asia. On halloween night I gave myself one year to get to Nepal- Kopan monastery for the november course. It seemed like a good direction. I've been questioning a bit lately--am I really going to go back to Asia by myself? God, this summer was witness to some truly amazing hallmarks of my life. But there was also loneliness, and the oddity of being a white woman alone in a collective, foreign society. Nepal would be different. What a blessing to be inundated in the dharma for so long.
What would I do if I stayed here? Huh.
It's the beginning of spring break here. New Orleans is perfect in the spring and I wouldn't want to be anywhere else. As friends leave, however, I am realizing, or rather feeling, for the first time the loss that I will feel in May. I know, I am always the preacher of change- flow like the river! Don't cling to the banks! But the banks have been so damned good to me this spring.
I have faith in myself and my future. I know I'm strong and capable, and I'm sure that wherever I land I will find beautiful people. I suppose now, however, I just feel tremendously grateful for all the beautiful people who love me here--and I will miss them terribly.
I suppose I'm headed back to asia. On halloween night I gave myself one year to get to Nepal- Kopan monastery for the november course. It seemed like a good direction. I've been questioning a bit lately--am I really going to go back to Asia by myself? God, this summer was witness to some truly amazing hallmarks of my life. But there was also loneliness, and the oddity of being a white woman alone in a collective, foreign society. Nepal would be different. What a blessing to be inundated in the dharma for so long.
What would I do if I stayed here? Huh.
It's the beginning of spring break here. New Orleans is perfect in the spring and I wouldn't want to be anywhere else. As friends leave, however, I am realizing, or rather feeling, for the first time the loss that I will feel in May. I know, I am always the preacher of change- flow like the river! Don't cling to the banks! But the banks have been so damned good to me this spring.
I have faith in myself and my future. I know I'm strong and capable, and I'm sure that wherever I land I will find beautiful people. I suppose now, however, I just feel tremendously grateful for all the beautiful people who love me here--and I will miss them terribly.
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
My City
For those who didn't know, here's a taste of New Orleans. Check it, and spread it to any naysayers out there.
Tuesday, November 06, 2007
Empathy and the lack thereof
So Jeffry Sachs came to speak at Tulane tonight. He teaches at Columbia and wrote some grand book, "The End of Poverty." He took simple numbers and showed how rich governments and/or corporations could EASILY end poverty by, say, 2025 (I forget the precise date). He is not stirring, nor passionate. He's an economist- a simple man who took simple numbers and said, "Hello! It's easy. We buy Africa mosquito nets--tada!"
I sat in that auditorium and felt like I was drowning. It should be that easy, shouldn't it? Ever since I have had a conscience I have felt empathy with people and parts of our world that have been exploited and suffer injustice and inequity. Movements to end poverty, save the rainforest, have universal healthcare, etc, etc, all stem from that same desire to help--the bleeding heart, yada yada. We have always said that the numbers are simple.
Well, it's not about numbers. According to Mr. Sachs if we each--each one of us Americans gave 5 bucks we could 'solve Africa'. Well fucking line me up Dr. But I challenge a single one of you new converts to collect this magical five dollars from anyone. Where I'm going with this...
I sat there, listening to him, in a packed crowd of Tulane students, and slowly lost a bit of faith in humanity. It breaks my heart. Two weeks ago we were petitioning for Burma's democracy movement. Never in my life have I seen people so adept at averting their eyes. Now, these same people sit and think, "yes, wonderful, five bucks to end poverty." But he doesn't mention that politics go with this- that you can't fucking drive around your gigantic SUV, wear your designer clothes, SUPPORT WAR, etc., and solve the problem with your five dollars. I don't want to be high and mighty--I am full of my own contradictions--but damnit. DAMN IT. He sits there talking about ending the war/ending poverty to the same fuckers who still support our troops (because note that the Democrats have been 'supporting our troops' forever).
For all the liberal arts bullshit we go through here people don't connect lines. They see ending poverty, the war, the world bank, etc. as different entities--and clearly positions on these don't have to line up. So here comes someone who separates them for you--you can fight poverty by not really doing anything. Drive your SUV, and yes please, continue buying diamonds from warlords in Africa, and don't forget about Sam's club, because we wouldn't want to disadvantage the sweatshop workers in China who are lifting their families our of poverty. Just give some to aid organizations.
YOU CAN'T FIX POVERTY AND SAVE THE WORLD WITH MONEY IF THE SYSTEM THE MONEY SITS IN DOESN'T WORK!
Jesus. I am conflicted, can you tell?
It just amazes me in a sad, sad way that people are acting as if this is a really new phenomenon--really excited about a movement peace activists and anti-corporatists have been doing for years. I sat there feeling that the majority of students at my school are nearly incapable of empathy (a view, might i add, which is fostered by our wonderful LLLLiberal, atomized conception of the individual). The commments in the crowd--ridiculous.
I'm being critical. I'm being a cynic. I know, but god, at some point I'm entitled, aren't I?
The end point; this school makes me loose faith in the youth and future of america. thanks tulane. thanks.
I sat in that auditorium and felt like I was drowning. It should be that easy, shouldn't it? Ever since I have had a conscience I have felt empathy with people and parts of our world that have been exploited and suffer injustice and inequity. Movements to end poverty, save the rainforest, have universal healthcare, etc, etc, all stem from that same desire to help--the bleeding heart, yada yada. We have always said that the numbers are simple.
Well, it's not about numbers. According to Mr. Sachs if we each--each one of us Americans gave 5 bucks we could 'solve Africa'. Well fucking line me up Dr. But I challenge a single one of you new converts to collect this magical five dollars from anyone. Where I'm going with this...
I sat there, listening to him, in a packed crowd of Tulane students, and slowly lost a bit of faith in humanity. It breaks my heart. Two weeks ago we were petitioning for Burma's democracy movement. Never in my life have I seen people so adept at averting their eyes. Now, these same people sit and think, "yes, wonderful, five bucks to end poverty." But he doesn't mention that politics go with this- that you can't fucking drive around your gigantic SUV, wear your designer clothes, SUPPORT WAR, etc., and solve the problem with your five dollars. I don't want to be high and mighty--I am full of my own contradictions--but damnit. DAMN IT. He sits there talking about ending the war/ending poverty to the same fuckers who still support our troops (because note that the Democrats have been 'supporting our troops' forever).
For all the liberal arts bullshit we go through here people don't connect lines. They see ending poverty, the war, the world bank, etc. as different entities--and clearly positions on these don't have to line up. So here comes someone who separates them for you--you can fight poverty by not really doing anything. Drive your SUV, and yes please, continue buying diamonds from warlords in Africa, and don't forget about Sam's club, because we wouldn't want to disadvantage the sweatshop workers in China who are lifting their families our of poverty. Just give some to aid organizations.
YOU CAN'T FIX POVERTY AND SAVE THE WORLD WITH MONEY IF THE SYSTEM THE MONEY SITS IN DOESN'T WORK!
Jesus. I am conflicted, can you tell?
It just amazes me in a sad, sad way that people are acting as if this is a really new phenomenon--really excited about a movement peace activists and anti-corporatists have been doing for years. I sat there feeling that the majority of students at my school are nearly incapable of empathy (a view, might i add, which is fostered by our wonderful LLLLiberal, atomized conception of the individual). The commments in the crowd--ridiculous.
I'm being critical. I'm being a cynic. I know, but god, at some point I'm entitled, aren't I?
The end point; this school makes me loose faith in the youth and future of america. thanks tulane. thanks.
Friday, September 28, 2007
Random pictures and Burma.
Me in Luang Prabang- the old capital of Lao.
The Mekong- view from Vientienne, the "capital city" of Lao.
The Perfume River- As seen from Hue City, Vietnam.Okay- so you only get like three pictures. Most of you have facebook anyway.
I sat down to tell you about life--now, in New orleans, and developments therein. Things are hectic, good, ...
But looking through my pictures,I realize all I want to talk about now is Burma. It's common for us to see developments in international news- riots, bombs, protests, coups. Sometimes we are really interested. I follow Democracy Now all the time--but now, for the first time, I read and I watch and I am nervous. For the first time protests-military rule-the slaughter of innocent monks and nuns-- is happening someplace I've been.
I wrote a long post when i returned from Burma last fall (sometime in october). Then a few weeks later I deleted it- honestly- for fear that it would scare my mom. It scared me. That place was completely overwhelming in ways that I still have trouble putting words to. And I don't really have words now- to describe how I see pictures of the protesters and cover my mouth- feeling a little knot in my stomach- feeling immense pride- and remembering terror. There was a moment in that place when I was absolutely terrified. I don't mean like roller coaster scared- it was the combination of horror and terror and fear-- all that combined in your body. At times that night it froze me and I couldn't move. Later it propelled me to maddening speed. And I was only there for a week. I was only terrified for one night-and upon reflection--I was totally fine. No physical damage done to me.
And now I see these people on the cover of the Times. They are a beautiful people- but I wondered when I was there how it was other people didn't sense the darkness there- the thick tenseness that pervaded everything they did. That fear.
And now look at them-fighting- or rather, being brutalized while they maintain states of non-violence. The Burmese and dozens of other ethnic groups that comprise that land--they are not my people to be proud of--but I am so proud of them.
I just want to say how remar
kable and strong and courageous these people are for standing up to such a dark, cold, terrifying, brutal power. Living in this place we cannot imagine it- not really. I suppose my week there is helping me to imagine, however, and...well, i just don't know what to do, and since i am without a paper journal this will have to do for now- for my stumbling over words and frustrations.
Hopefully some SASers here in NOLA will be doing somekind of a protest drive- I think my friend said it was going to our government. UN troops? I don't know- I don't know that they've ever really worked anyway. How about this- I will figure something out and post it- god knows what a petition drive will really do- but - oh blah- help in any way you can. okay? they deserve support.
streets of rangoon/yangon
Sunday, August 26, 2007
Friday, July 27, 2007
FESR Rocks the House!
WOW!
So- the technical end of this program has come. The group- aside from our somewhat confused "coordinator" and me have left for their respective sites of livelihood and travel.
It's hard to describe in words- without writing a short story- what we have done and experienced here working with FESR (the micro-credit org I've been interning with), what it has meant, and how friggin bad ass these people are. I've been working with four MBAs from Kellogg, three other undergrads from around the country, and a load of awesome Vietnamese people who bring down the house. We broke up into several different projects- doing something like an audit on their social return (trying to measure to good they do- the shit I always hated in economics but now see as necessary for these people to get outside funding). Other projects included a focus on their retail business loans- finding success stories and creating a pamphlet/brochure in the end, and an "integrated marketing" project that reviewed the fiscal stability of the organization. In the end, the whole team produced a well documented overview of their current loan practices for partners and potential sponsors, additional forms and suggestions to get more accurate data to track progress of loan recipients, a website (because Cary and Ron are, awkwardly phrased, both the man) and a brochure for future spenders.
Technically speaking, I have learned a tremendous amount about micro-credit operations- how they sustain themselves internally as well as how they work with their clients. I also feel quite accomplished with the work we've done. The last night some of us were cranking out this brochure and a professor came in from AIT in Bangkok- he's partnering with FESR and a Canadian NGO to work on a healthy market project- i.e.- women in the markets will get loans to help sanitize their stalls and make their practices safer for the environment (because imagine it now: people throw huge blocks of ice on the floor where animal blood and fish juice has been draining all day while it sits out...) Anyhow- the girls gave this guy a paper copy of the presentation I had helped give just earlier that day- as a comprehensive, English overview of what they do. Shit damn! How awesome! Wham bam and I already felt like we made a differece.
On a personal note- I have so much respect for the men and women who work at FESR. Living in Vietnam has definately been an experience- the closest by far I have ever been to another culture. There's good and bad, but take for example that our last day there was a ceremony- almost like graduation. They thanked us sincerely, giving us each little plaques and candies made in temples (like a blessing). There is such deep tradition here that infuses everything- even business. An older man from the board came to give his thanks- refined and dignified with every move. The girls cried. (Also- aside from the FESR crew- I worked with some amazing professionals and students from the states. I learned from and love them all- okay, or most of them).
On a fun note- the Vietnamese throw down and the last two days were a mish mash of no sleep, going out, presenting, crunch time, going out again, not sleeping again, drinking for lunch with Mr. Hai, karaoke (which i will dearly miss)...work, play, nap, work, play harder, nap- wait no time- go work or play again!
The rest of my time here will be spent doing some fairtrade stuff for a friend back home (Trani you rock) and helping out/learning more at FESR before I head out to Laos for a brief stint in the mountains.
Monday, July 23, 2007
Bicycles
If you know me, you know I love bikes. So my first weekend in Hue I purchased a cheap, rickety, pumpkin colored bike with a white basket.
To highlight the character of Vietnam, I thought I should chronicle some of the creatures I have almost run over- or into- while on said bicycle:
-A female praying mantis
-Mutiple roosters
-A calf suckling its mother in the middle of the road
-Careless children
-Bamboo- which falls down in the storms
-Insence that people leave out to dry (they make inscence here with spice, glue, and water- roll it up on sticks, and set it in the street to dry in the sun)
-Piles of burning trash- because frequently people like to create little ashy bonfires in
the gutter to dispose of waste
Things that have almost run over me:
- Careless moto drivers
-Buses
-Little children whose careless parents let them drive bicycles and motos
Don't worry mom- I'm safe. It's all about traffic flow- I've got this.
much love- me
To highlight the character of Vietnam, I thought I should chronicle some of the creatures I have almost run over- or into- while on said bicycle:
-A female praying mantis
-Mutiple roosters
-A calf suckling its mother in the middle of the road
-Careless children
-Bamboo- which falls down in the storms
-Insence that people leave out to dry (they make inscence here with spice, glue, and water- roll it up on sticks, and set it in the street to dry in the sun)
-Piles of burning trash- because frequently people like to create little ashy bonfires in
the gutter to dispose of waste
Things that have almost run over me:
- Careless moto drivers
-Buses
-Little children whose careless parents let them drive bicycles and motos
Don't worry mom- I'm safe. It's all about traffic flow- I've got this.
much love- me
Sunday, July 15, 2007
A year in the life
You can read this one in chunks too...
Alrighty. So it was about one year ago that I first left the usofa. Direct flight, Chicago to Delhi. One year later all that has happened in between is finally starting to make sense, and I think I will write about it.
When I first went to India I went to study Buddhism. Program specifics being what they were, english language sessions with a Tibetan refugee, I still knew my spare time would be spent in temples, gleaming whatever knowledge or practice I could. I had and have revolted against popular American culture for quite a while. At that particular point, I also revolted against alcohol. Perhaps it was the influence of a certain abstinent man I had been seeing who had the lowest opinion of drunks, perhaps is was the undesired effect of working part time for an alcoholic, perhaps it was just my perogative. Either way, I didn't go to India to drink or go out at night. Indians don't really drink- and I pretty much only wanted to do as Indians did. I wanted to shed my culture and completely absorb another. I gave to beggars and couldn't understand the callousness of those who used the easy excuse that it's all merely a racket. I didn't believe it then and I still don't.
When I returned to the states I first noticed two things: we're fat, and we have a lot of excess infrastructure. I wanted to get rid of all of it. I fasted for a week and didn't really call anyone. I spent my week at home out in the country listening to meditation cds and preparing for semester at sea. I felt calm. Or- I felt overwhelmed by paperwork and school and money- "illusions" I hadn't had to deal with up in the mountains.
So, at my height of "fuck pop culture, fuck consumerism, etc" I climbed aboard a giant cruise ship ready to sail around the world. No fucking wonder I had so many problems. This wasn't the basic americanism I was fleeing- this was an extremely wealthy lifestyle and had never even seen. I recall a specific image: We are sailing through the Red Sea. It is the skinny part where you can see Saudi Arabi or Yemen (not sure) to your right and Djibouti to your left. Total oil rigs in this tiny stretch numbered perhaps twenty and helicopters occasionally circled. And then I looked around me. From the top deck JayZ blasted from the poolside bar as fake blondes sunbathed- next to Saudi Arabi- on our gas guzzling ocean liner. Just think about that for a minute. I sure did.
When we docked in countries I ran away. I didn't want to travel with a hoard of people in khaki shorts. I wanted immersion. I often got it. I was thoughtful, observant, reflective, and considerate of the people and places we visited. Most of all, I'm sure no surprise to anyone who knows me, I sought out religion. I went to temples in Asia, mosques in Turkey, and cathedrals in Spain. I was constantly overwhelmed.
As much as I learned from these places, however, I also had to deal with my reaction to America. Because, lets face it, I was floating on a big bowl of pop America. Thank sweet God I had some professors who understood this as well. There were, of course, many students who were amazing and deep and insightful on the ship. I would apologize to them all if I could for not being more open. There was nothing I could do. Sometimes, when we are dealing with and analyzing so very much internally, it just becomes very difficult to stay open and expend any more energy. As much as I tried I had significant trouble connected with a lot of my friends on the ship.
I realize now that I was incredibly hard on myself which caused me to be hard on others. I couldn't sit down and watch TV or a movie without thinking that it was a worthless waste of time that rotted my brain and fed me pop culture. If I drank a coke I thought about high fructose corn syrup and the evils of giant corporations. India was the culmination of several years of distancing myself from so much of what is common in our country. After India, I realize I didn't just leave my comfort zone, I had abolished it. I visited countries and wanted to learn all I could about people there. I felt I was a Buddhist, a Muslim, a Christian, a Jew, a Burmese, an Indian, a Turk. I felt an amazing connection to everything- the oversoul as Emerson best put it. But this connection, as deep as it can be, is also very abstract. In the immediate, I am not Croatian, Japanese, etc. I am an American. The longer I am here the more I am realizing this.
So that is what happened to me: I destroyed the option of falling back on American identity and threw myself at others. But you don't sink into a place in five days- and so I threw myself into the air. And I spent quite a few months twisting around up there trying to figure out how and where to land. That was a great portion of my spring- and perhaps why my Carnival season in new orleans was so outlandish and foolish and dramatic.
So now I'm in Vietnam. On this stint so far I have visited Cambodia and Thailand as well. I believe this is the longest time I've really spent out of the country. I feel good- I feel I'm learning a tremendous amount, both from other travelers, and now from the business students I'm working with here at FESR. I feel comfortable connecting to America. As we have joked here, America does not equal a dollar sign. It does not equal giant corporations or George Bush. It often does, but it doesn't always. It also means an incredibly diverse, often tolerant group of people. Granted, if I walk into Zotz in a Tulane hoodie, I don't get the best reception, but still comprably- there is no stereotypical american. We are all diverse. In Vietnam, everyone is Vietnamese. If I walk into a coffeeshop an entire crowd will point and laugh at my funny crocs- which I saw fit to draw all over in color sharpie. They are quite beautiful really, and at least I am amusing someone. But hey, in the states, people don't (typically) point and laugh because you are different. I realize I'm not in the states, so I'll deal with it, but I am appreciating our diversity more and more. Same goes for New Orleans. I like that Chris Owens can have a hat parade on easter sunday while all the Catholics sit in the cathedral. I like that you can get in a costume and be completely outrageous and its okay. I like that you can be different. I don't have to like giant corporations, or starbucks, or george bush, and I'll always be in good company with someone.
--OR, I can be in no company. The phenomenon of being alone hasn't yet hit the Vietnamese. "Only one?" "Why don't you do it together?" "Where are your friends?" I'm with the big group right now, but this is one country that just gets sort of bothersome in that regard. I am quite aware when I am alone, and I'm okay with it. Relax. Go be collective. It's good for you, but its not always good for me.
So theres the thing- just realizing I don't have to like everything about the places I visit. Just because they are other doesn't always make them better. Rest assured, do not expect me to return some kind of raging patriot- just because the US is familiar, doesn't make it better either. I feel that I have just learned to be open to ALL of it- not only other cultures, but my own. They are all beginning to blend anyway. (Remembering a group of Tibetan monks watching Men in Black II in a tiny tea shack. "Will Smith?" "Yes, yes, that's will smith") Same same but different.
So aside from occasional frustrations, I'm feeling pretty great. I look at the woman I am now compared to the young girl who took off a year ago and I am in awe. Even in the past three months- so much has happened and changed and so much the better.
For now- I am back off to the nunnery for chanting, dinner, and english lessons. I love you all. mwah.
Alrighty. So it was about one year ago that I first left the usofa. Direct flight, Chicago to Delhi. One year later all that has happened in between is finally starting to make sense, and I think I will write about it.
When I first went to India I went to study Buddhism. Program specifics being what they were, english language sessions with a Tibetan refugee, I still knew my spare time would be spent in temples, gleaming whatever knowledge or practice I could. I had and have revolted against popular American culture for quite a while. At that particular point, I also revolted against alcohol. Perhaps it was the influence of a certain abstinent man I had been seeing who had the lowest opinion of drunks, perhaps is was the undesired effect of working part time for an alcoholic, perhaps it was just my perogative. Either way, I didn't go to India to drink or go out at night. Indians don't really drink- and I pretty much only wanted to do as Indians did. I wanted to shed my culture and completely absorb another. I gave to beggars and couldn't understand the callousness of those who used the easy excuse that it's all merely a racket. I didn't believe it then and I still don't.
When I returned to the states I first noticed two things: we're fat, and we have a lot of excess infrastructure. I wanted to get rid of all of it. I fasted for a week and didn't really call anyone. I spent my week at home out in the country listening to meditation cds and preparing for semester at sea. I felt calm. Or- I felt overwhelmed by paperwork and school and money- "illusions" I hadn't had to deal with up in the mountains.
So, at my height of "fuck pop culture, fuck consumerism, etc" I climbed aboard a giant cruise ship ready to sail around the world. No fucking wonder I had so many problems. This wasn't the basic americanism I was fleeing- this was an extremely wealthy lifestyle and had never even seen. I recall a specific image: We are sailing through the Red Sea. It is the skinny part where you can see Saudi Arabi or Yemen (not sure) to your right and Djibouti to your left. Total oil rigs in this tiny stretch numbered perhaps twenty and helicopters occasionally circled. And then I looked around me. From the top deck JayZ blasted from the poolside bar as fake blondes sunbathed- next to Saudi Arabi- on our gas guzzling ocean liner. Just think about that for a minute. I sure did.
When we docked in countries I ran away. I didn't want to travel with a hoard of people in khaki shorts. I wanted immersion. I often got it. I was thoughtful, observant, reflective, and considerate of the people and places we visited. Most of all, I'm sure no surprise to anyone who knows me, I sought out religion. I went to temples in Asia, mosques in Turkey, and cathedrals in Spain. I was constantly overwhelmed.
As much as I learned from these places, however, I also had to deal with my reaction to America. Because, lets face it, I was floating on a big bowl of pop America. Thank sweet God I had some professors who understood this as well. There were, of course, many students who were amazing and deep and insightful on the ship. I would apologize to them all if I could for not being more open. There was nothing I could do. Sometimes, when we are dealing with and analyzing so very much internally, it just becomes very difficult to stay open and expend any more energy. As much as I tried I had significant trouble connected with a lot of my friends on the ship.
I realize now that I was incredibly hard on myself which caused me to be hard on others. I couldn't sit down and watch TV or a movie without thinking that it was a worthless waste of time that rotted my brain and fed me pop culture. If I drank a coke I thought about high fructose corn syrup and the evils of giant corporations. India was the culmination of several years of distancing myself from so much of what is common in our country. After India, I realize I didn't just leave my comfort zone, I had abolished it. I visited countries and wanted to learn all I could about people there. I felt I was a Buddhist, a Muslim, a Christian, a Jew, a Burmese, an Indian, a Turk. I felt an amazing connection to everything- the oversoul as Emerson best put it. But this connection, as deep as it can be, is also very abstract. In the immediate, I am not Croatian, Japanese, etc. I am an American. The longer I am here the more I am realizing this.
So that is what happened to me: I destroyed the option of falling back on American identity and threw myself at others. But you don't sink into a place in five days- and so I threw myself into the air. And I spent quite a few months twisting around up there trying to figure out how and where to land. That was a great portion of my spring- and perhaps why my Carnival season in new orleans was so outlandish and foolish and dramatic.
So now I'm in Vietnam. On this stint so far I have visited Cambodia and Thailand as well. I believe this is the longest time I've really spent out of the country. I feel good- I feel I'm learning a tremendous amount, both from other travelers, and now from the business students I'm working with here at FESR. I feel comfortable connecting to America. As we have joked here, America does not equal a dollar sign. It does not equal giant corporations or George Bush. It often does, but it doesn't always. It also means an incredibly diverse, often tolerant group of people. Granted, if I walk into Zotz in a Tulane hoodie, I don't get the best reception, but still comprably- there is no stereotypical american. We are all diverse. In Vietnam, everyone is Vietnamese. If I walk into a coffeeshop an entire crowd will point and laugh at my funny crocs- which I saw fit to draw all over in color sharpie. They are quite beautiful really, and at least I am amusing someone. But hey, in the states, people don't (typically) point and laugh because you are different. I realize I'm not in the states, so I'll deal with it, but I am appreciating our diversity more and more. Same goes for New Orleans. I like that Chris Owens can have a hat parade on easter sunday while all the Catholics sit in the cathedral. I like that you can get in a costume and be completely outrageous and its okay. I like that you can be different. I don't have to like giant corporations, or starbucks, or george bush, and I'll always be in good company with someone.
--OR, I can be in no company. The phenomenon of being alone hasn't yet hit the Vietnamese. "Only one?" "Why don't you do it together?" "Where are your friends?" I'm with the big group right now, but this is one country that just gets sort of bothersome in that regard. I am quite aware when I am alone, and I'm okay with it. Relax. Go be collective. It's good for you, but its not always good for me.
So theres the thing- just realizing I don't have to like everything about the places I visit. Just because they are other doesn't always make them better. Rest assured, do not expect me to return some kind of raging patriot- just because the US is familiar, doesn't make it better either. I feel that I have just learned to be open to ALL of it- not only other cultures, but my own. They are all beginning to blend anyway. (Remembering a group of Tibetan monks watching Men in Black II in a tiny tea shack. "Will Smith?" "Yes, yes, that's will smith") Same same but different.
So aside from occasional frustrations, I'm feeling pretty great. I look at the woman I am now compared to the young girl who took off a year ago and I am in awe. Even in the past three months- so much has happened and changed and so much the better.
For now- I am back off to the nunnery for chanting, dinner, and english lessons. I love you all. mwah.
Saturday, July 14, 2007
A day in the life
so in theory tomorrow's post will be a large cultural revelation i have had based on my past year of traveling, but i realized that i have not written- or wanted to write- a basic post on what happens here. So here it is, a saturday in Hue.
Wake up late- no work on Saturday's. Need to switch hotels- I will not elaborate on the frustration I have faced with program coordinators and business people, etc- but lets just say frustration level is high. I pack up to leave my favorite two ladies- Tea and Houng. Love 'em.
I go to Lotus for banana pancake breakfest. I get the bill and notice everything is higher than the menu says. "wrong menu- here is right one." Oh, thanks. So there's a foreigner menu where everything is more expensive and you show me as I'm leaving. Typical.
A few good things happened today: I took a nap in my new hotel. It has a/c. Upon waking I decided to search out the indian place in town, and had the best north indian food I've had since I was there. God bless you Omar, god bless you for cooking vegetables. Here in Hue, the Vietnamese will take most all living beings aside from people, chop them up, cover them with fish sauce and serve them with rice. "oh you don't eat meat? here, have some rice...and fish sauce." Great.
It rained, which cooled things off and was glorious. I headed out on my bike to Dieu Nghiem Pagoda I visited last weekend. It is one of the most peaceful, serene places I've found here and that is what I needed. I take the path to the right as the water/fan women yell at me from the pagoda entrance to the left. The nunnery is up ahead, and these nuns produce the most beautiful chanting I've ever experienced. It is something between native american tones, celtic melodies, and asian chants with gongs. The nuns are wonderful. They smile and greet me and I know it is sincere and kind. No one is trying to sell me a damn thing.
As they finish their rounds a nun comes to invite me to dinner. I'm still full from blessed aloo palak, but hey, a little nun invites you to dinner after a wretched few days and you don't say no.
As we eat one of the sisters speaks splendid english with me, and after I go on the ultra-slow walking meditation/english lesson with the curious sister who invited me to dinner. Even without hair, in the drap grey robes, she is intensely beautiful.
I will return tomorrow- four oclock- for that wonderful chanting and peaceful atmosphere.
I get back to town just at dusk- terrible for biking. The drivers in this country are crazy and I always try to get in by dark. I lock up the bike and head to the park by the river (parks are the place to be at night. They light them up with these funky neon lights, little men bike around selling popcorn, and benches are filled with couples holding hands- really- just holding hands). I've been practicing poi ever since Xavi hooked me up on Hat Tien in Thailand- so I break out the set and get going. I got to pick up a few moves from an Aussie in the street the other night, so there's even more to practice. It's nice at night because the people become more interested in the member of the opposite sex across the bench from them and less interested in gawking at a funny foreign girl swinging around neon balls on chain.
Then its back to the hotel, bath, internet.
And there we have it, a day in Hue. Tune in tomorrow for Laura's cultural insights and revelations (i think that will happen at least, we'll see)
hope this posts- vietnam actually blocks american blogs so it's a wierd twisted process writing and i'm never quite sure it works.
much love
Wake up late- no work on Saturday's. Need to switch hotels- I will not elaborate on the frustration I have faced with program coordinators and business people, etc- but lets just say frustration level is high. I pack up to leave my favorite two ladies- Tea and Houng. Love 'em.
I go to Lotus for banana pancake breakfest. I get the bill and notice everything is higher than the menu says. "wrong menu- here is right one." Oh, thanks. So there's a foreigner menu where everything is more expensive and you show me as I'm leaving. Typical.
A few good things happened today: I took a nap in my new hotel. It has a/c. Upon waking I decided to search out the indian place in town, and had the best north indian food I've had since I was there. God bless you Omar, god bless you for cooking vegetables. Here in Hue, the Vietnamese will take most all living beings aside from people, chop them up, cover them with fish sauce and serve them with rice. "oh you don't eat meat? here, have some rice...and fish sauce." Great.
It rained, which cooled things off and was glorious. I headed out on my bike to Dieu Nghiem Pagoda I visited last weekend. It is one of the most peaceful, serene places I've found here and that is what I needed. I take the path to the right as the water/fan women yell at me from the pagoda entrance to the left. The nunnery is up ahead, and these nuns produce the most beautiful chanting I've ever experienced. It is something between native american tones, celtic melodies, and asian chants with gongs. The nuns are wonderful. They smile and greet me and I know it is sincere and kind. No one is trying to sell me a damn thing.
As they finish their rounds a nun comes to invite me to dinner. I'm still full from blessed aloo palak, but hey, a little nun invites you to dinner after a wretched few days and you don't say no.
As we eat one of the sisters speaks splendid english with me, and after I go on the ultra-slow walking meditation/english lesson with the curious sister who invited me to dinner. Even without hair, in the drap grey robes, she is intensely beautiful.
I will return tomorrow- four oclock- for that wonderful chanting and peaceful atmosphere.
I get back to town just at dusk- terrible for biking. The drivers in this country are crazy and I always try to get in by dark. I lock up the bike and head to the park by the river (parks are the place to be at night. They light them up with these funky neon lights, little men bike around selling popcorn, and benches are filled with couples holding hands- really- just holding hands). I've been practicing poi ever since Xavi hooked me up on Hat Tien in Thailand- so I break out the set and get going. I got to pick up a few moves from an Aussie in the street the other night, so there's even more to practice. It's nice at night because the people become more interested in the member of the opposite sex across the bench from them and less interested in gawking at a funny foreign girl swinging around neon balls on chain.
Then its back to the hotel, bath, internet.
And there we have it, a day in Hue. Tune in tomorrow for Laura's cultural insights and revelations (i think that will happen at least, we'll see)
hope this posts- vietnam actually blocks american blogs so it's a wierd twisted process writing and i'm never quite sure it works.
much love
Sunday, July 08, 2007
Okay- so I'm finally writing. I blame it on Hue being a slow city and me being vaguely bored. I must say, this is killing the mystery.
So work: We've been at it for about a week now. The organization I'm working with is called the Fund for Encouragment of Self Reliance. They started up in 2000 when some moderately wealthy Vietnamese guy in Cali decided to help out back home. Since then, they have given over 8,000 loans- the smallest amount being around 100 USD ranging up to 400 or so. With this amount of money people typically buy livestock- but the variety of trades are endless- vending, agriculture, hairstyling, etc. Over 85% of the loans are given to women because- well, we are more responsible with money. According to them, and pretty much every other microloan place out there, most men will smoke and drink away a small loan. So the women get some money and hopefully begin a business or trade that can help feed and school their children. Many of these families are living below the extreme poverty line- on under a dollar a day.
This first week I feel we (i'm here with a group) have been learning more about the specifics of the operation- how they calculate interest, how they screen candidates, how they disburse loans, etc. I hope by the end of my 6 weeks I will be able to contribute something as well. We will be working basically on some infrastructure issues- helping them figure out some numbers and organizational issues so that we can create a solid report showing their positive effects, which would hopefully result in grant money from other sources so that the project can expand.
Thanks to anyone reading this who helping me get here- there were many generous souls who sponsored this trip and I truly appreciate it.
Aside from the work- my first three weeks out were pretty great. I came early and went through Cambodia and Thailand a bit. It was a bit of a shock really being here alone for the first weekend or so, but after the initial adjustment period it went straight uphill...
Relaxing in cambodia, hammocks, coconuts, angkor wat, ta phrom, Swiss, full moon parties, more hammocks, blue moon parties, Israelis, yoga, beaches, Catalans, getting lost in the jungle, being grateful for life, Cubans, lady boys, train rides, states of disrepair, Chilleans, states of elevation, really good curry bowls, fruit shakes, rat, Brits, POI POI POI!, dancing, and the list goes on...
But for now my "boss" just spotted me and it's group meeting time. Much love.
So work: We've been at it for about a week now. The organization I'm working with is called the Fund for Encouragment of Self Reliance. They started up in 2000 when some moderately wealthy Vietnamese guy in Cali decided to help out back home. Since then, they have given over 8,000 loans- the smallest amount being around 100 USD ranging up to 400 or so. With this amount of money people typically buy livestock- but the variety of trades are endless- vending, agriculture, hairstyling, etc. Over 85% of the loans are given to women because- well, we are more responsible with money. According to them, and pretty much every other microloan place out there, most men will smoke and drink away a small loan. So the women get some money and hopefully begin a business or trade that can help feed and school their children. Many of these families are living below the extreme poverty line- on under a dollar a day.
This first week I feel we (i'm here with a group) have been learning more about the specifics of the operation- how they calculate interest, how they screen candidates, how they disburse loans, etc. I hope by the end of my 6 weeks I will be able to contribute something as well. We will be working basically on some infrastructure issues- helping them figure out some numbers and organizational issues so that we can create a solid report showing their positive effects, which would hopefully result in grant money from other sources so that the project can expand.
Thanks to anyone reading this who helping me get here- there were many generous souls who sponsored this trip and I truly appreciate it.
Aside from the work- my first three weeks out were pretty great. I came early and went through Cambodia and Thailand a bit. It was a bit of a shock really being here alone for the first weekend or so, but after the initial adjustment period it went straight uphill...
Relaxing in cambodia, hammocks, coconuts, angkor wat, ta phrom, Swiss, full moon parties, more hammocks, blue moon parties, Israelis, yoga, beaches, Catalans, getting lost in the jungle, being grateful for life, Cubans, lady boys, train rides, states of disrepair, Chilleans, states of elevation, really good curry bowls, fruit shakes, rat, Brits, POI POI POI!, dancing, and the list goes on...
But for now my "boss" just spotted me and it's group meeting time. Much love.
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
Benn King are you there????
This post is pretty much soley for Benn whose email address I have misplaced. I love you and have been trying to write- I keep sort of guessing combinations but i dont think I'm getting them right. Anyhow, I hope you check this and write me back at lpavicev@tulane.edu so I can finally send you letters.
As for the rest of you blokes I dont think I'm blogging so much on this trip- i might start later.
much love!
As for the rest of you blokes I dont think I'm blogging so much on this trip- i might start later.
much love!
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
Western Backpack
So I suppose it's time to start this puppy back up.
May 15th- and on June 6th I hop aboard a flight (or more like 4 flights to be precise) to Saigon/Ho Chi Mihn City. I'll have three+ weeks of travel time before heading to Hue where I'll be doing an internship with CoVN, an organization which gives small, microcredit loans to women to help start their own businesses. I believe we'll be helping with business plans, etc. There is also a lot they do with a large community farm out of town; i.e., the women get a small loan to rent part of this land which they can then farm and use to sell produce at local markets. For those unfamiliar with microcredit it is, to my knowledge, one of the most effective methods for helping those in the third world get out of poverty. Loans go to women, who, unlike men, take care of their families and don't squander the money. It is also very grassroots and avoids the bigtimers- IMF, USAID, etc., who tend to care about politics and profit and not actually help many people. Pretty much, I would like to spend a portion of my life doing work like this and I find it telling and promising that this internship came my way.
I applied for this big grant to go to India, had some misgivings, didn't get it...ended up getting a grant from my department to do an unpaid internship-and landing this internship--all in like 3 days. (Did I mention things have been really great here the past month? Yeah.)
So I'll work with this project in Hue for 6 weeks starting in July and then have another week and a half or so to travel.
Expected destinations: Cambodia to angkor wat and phnom phen, Thailand to Bangkok to see Kim and an some islands perhaps, a nunnery in Vietnam whose name and location escape me, but when planning a trip long ago (2 months) they were very open to having me come visit and they speak english, down to the Mekong to see my friend Yom from SAS, and up to Sapa- perhaps the highlight in my mind- it is in the "Tokinese Alps" and full of nomadic mountain tribes.
What's crazy is that this is the trip I planned all along- wanting to go back to Vietnam, look at their economy for my thesis- comparing the industrialized south with the tribes in the north- ended up taking Vietnamese this semester specifically to go back...
And now, in a very roundabout way, it all happened.
So- must go now- but stay tuned for what will be my longest stint in another country (and not on a ship).
Hooah.
May 15th- and on June 6th I hop aboard a flight (or more like 4 flights to be precise) to Saigon/Ho Chi Mihn City. I'll have three+ weeks of travel time before heading to Hue where I'll be doing an internship with CoVN, an organization which gives small, microcredit loans to women to help start their own businesses. I believe we'll be helping with business plans, etc. There is also a lot they do with a large community farm out of town; i.e., the women get a small loan to rent part of this land which they can then farm and use to sell produce at local markets. For those unfamiliar with microcredit it is, to my knowledge, one of the most effective methods for helping those in the third world get out of poverty. Loans go to women, who, unlike men, take care of their families and don't squander the money. It is also very grassroots and avoids the bigtimers- IMF, USAID, etc., who tend to care about politics and profit and not actually help many people. Pretty much, I would like to spend a portion of my life doing work like this and I find it telling and promising that this internship came my way.
I applied for this big grant to go to India, had some misgivings, didn't get it...ended up getting a grant from my department to do an unpaid internship-and landing this internship--all in like 3 days. (Did I mention things have been really great here the past month? Yeah.)
So I'll work with this project in Hue for 6 weeks starting in July and then have another week and a half or so to travel.
Expected destinations: Cambodia to angkor wat and phnom phen, Thailand to Bangkok to see Kim and an some islands perhaps, a nunnery in Vietnam whose name and location escape me, but when planning a trip long ago (2 months) they were very open to having me come visit and they speak english, down to the Mekong to see my friend Yom from SAS, and up to Sapa- perhaps the highlight in my mind- it is in the "Tokinese Alps" and full of nomadic mountain tribes.
What's crazy is that this is the trip I planned all along- wanting to go back to Vietnam, look at their economy for my thesis- comparing the industrialized south with the tribes in the north- ended up taking Vietnamese this semester specifically to go back...
And now, in a very roundabout way, it all happened.
So- must go now- but stay tuned for what will be my longest stint in another country (and not on a ship).
Hooah.
Tuesday, May 08, 2007
Sound Bites
those juicy conversation clips overheard while supposedly working, and needing to work, on a final paper...
that boy-the stupid one who first entered the library during the second week of finals on what i will assume is his second or third year- that boy who was so confused about the printers and felt the need to talk loudly on his damned cell phone- that boy just began to sell an ounce on said phone while traipsing through the library lobby on his way out
that boy-the stupid one who first entered the library during the second week of finals on what i will assume is his second or third year- that boy who was so confused about the printers and felt the need to talk loudly on his damned cell phone- that boy just began to sell an ounce on said phone while traipsing through the library lobby on his way out
Saturday, April 28, 2007
It's Getting Better Everyday
It's gettin better everyday.
:)
Lifeforce ceremony- thanks Karma! I needed that.
A's.
Boys.
Summer grants that require no applications. Thanks Dr. H.
Travel.
Beer.
New friends, old friends.
Jazzfest.
Nola in the Spring and Jasmine in my hair...no, not the rice.
SAS kids? I love you all. And it feels damn good to be able to say that sincerely.
Gettin better everyday.
Thursday, April 19, 2007
Getting Hit by Cars
So in the last four months I have been hit by cars...twice, while riding my bicycle.
The first time I probably could I have died. I attributed my astonishing survival and impecable condition (minus a bit of road rash, swollen ankle, and stiff neck) to angels. Velvet, my friend the fortune teller, was right when she told me not to worry; I had angels watching me. Turns out that night my grandmother was saying her evening prayers for me as well. And so I took it to mean that my life was not finished, that I had a purpose here I had yet to fulfill. Didn't quite matter that I had no clue what that was--something was out there for me to do. Yet when I really thought about it, the ideal of dying, well, it wasn't that..moving. I would just be like everyone else who dies. People are dying all the time you know. We just don't think about it, and we don't really think how totally insignificant our own deaths will be. If I had died, family and friends would have been sad, etc., but in the grander scheme of things nothing would change.
So today, riding to work down my favorite street, past that little loopy park on Colliseum. A car stops to let me by, and another car thinks he stops for her to turn. Crash boom. And my thought as I watch the pavement is "not again." Haven't I been careful? I've been biking around like a goddamned old lady, waiting forever for cars to pass, taking side roads with less traffic, and AGAIN I fuking get smashed. It was minor, and I laughed as people told me not to move. "oh," i thought, "if you only knew." A few scraps and a twisted tire. We got it all sorted out in an hour- new spokes and a ride to work. I'll now have matching scars on my elbows--one from each wreck.
And what relfection do I have now? What gives? I thought of all things I could at least ride a bicycle, but I am sort of questioning my capabilites to do anything. School has seemed harder as well. While everyone else was excelling at soccer, gymnastics, you name it, I could always breeze through school like nothing. So if I'm having trouble with that, what can I actually do? I've just been feeling very unproductive. I want a skill.
I didn't get that grant to go to asia, and I got hit again by a car. Something is going on. The universe is trying to tell me something and I'm just too thick to get it. Maybe it's trying to tell me I'm a shitty cyclist. Maybe I think too much and it complicates my head. Maybe I should get back to work now before I get fired...
mwah.
The first time I probably could I have died. I attributed my astonishing survival and impecable condition (minus a bit of road rash, swollen ankle, and stiff neck) to angels. Velvet, my friend the fortune teller, was right when she told me not to worry; I had angels watching me. Turns out that night my grandmother was saying her evening prayers for me as well. And so I took it to mean that my life was not finished, that I had a purpose here I had yet to fulfill. Didn't quite matter that I had no clue what that was--something was out there for me to do. Yet when I really thought about it, the ideal of dying, well, it wasn't that..moving. I would just be like everyone else who dies. People are dying all the time you know. We just don't think about it, and we don't really think how totally insignificant our own deaths will be. If I had died, family and friends would have been sad, etc., but in the grander scheme of things nothing would change.
So today, riding to work down my favorite street, past that little loopy park on Colliseum. A car stops to let me by, and another car thinks he stops for her to turn. Crash boom. And my thought as I watch the pavement is "not again." Haven't I been careful? I've been biking around like a goddamned old lady, waiting forever for cars to pass, taking side roads with less traffic, and AGAIN I fuking get smashed. It was minor, and I laughed as people told me not to move. "oh," i thought, "if you only knew." A few scraps and a twisted tire. We got it all sorted out in an hour- new spokes and a ride to work. I'll now have matching scars on my elbows--one from each wreck.
And what relfection do I have now? What gives? I thought of all things I could at least ride a bicycle, but I am sort of questioning my capabilites to do anything. School has seemed harder as well. While everyone else was excelling at soccer, gymnastics, you name it, I could always breeze through school like nothing. So if I'm having trouble with that, what can I actually do? I've just been feeling very unproductive. I want a skill.
I didn't get that grant to go to asia, and I got hit again by a car. Something is going on. The universe is trying to tell me something and I'm just too thick to get it. Maybe it's trying to tell me I'm a shitty cyclist. Maybe I think too much and it complicates my head. Maybe I should get back to work now before I get fired...
mwah.
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
Why do you hate America?
my friend asks as i plot the next adventure.
I've come to terms with quite a few things in the past months. Living in a big apartment by my lonesome with no tv and no internet forces you to analyze stuff it's usually easy to avoid. And so now it is spring cleaning. Mentally and emotionally I'm back on track. No answers, really, but I remember my purpose. Granted I don't know how important it is or how it came about, but I stopped worrying about that. It feels great. So I'm doomed to be shoved around by the North wind- wandering wandering, but with a purpose.
Aside from my endless desire to flee the country- New Orleans has been wonderful. Mardi gras was spell of unexpected joy, doused with some anger- but it was positive. Good to get it out. mom's ball, drum circles, dancing and parading for 16 hours straight... yes yes. Love this city.
You know what that means? Time to leave and run away to asia!
Whee!!!!!!!!!
much love, much much pure love
I've come to terms with quite a few things in the past months. Living in a big apartment by my lonesome with no tv and no internet forces you to analyze stuff it's usually easy to avoid. And so now it is spring cleaning. Mentally and emotionally I'm back on track. No answers, really, but I remember my purpose. Granted I don't know how important it is or how it came about, but I stopped worrying about that. It feels great. So I'm doomed to be shoved around by the North wind- wandering wandering, but with a purpose.
Aside from my endless desire to flee the country- New Orleans has been wonderful. Mardi gras was spell of unexpected joy, doused with some anger- but it was positive. Good to get it out. mom's ball, drum circles, dancing and parading for 16 hours straight... yes yes. Love this city.
You know what that means? Time to leave and run away to asia!
Whee!!!!!!!!!
much love, much much pure love
Monday, February 12, 2007
well well
so.... perhaps you can tell by the near lack of writing since the end of the trip that the processing period has been rather empty...like, it hasn't really happened.
all sorts of wierd is going on, and will likely increase tremendously in the next weekend, but, hmm, i have hope
so- things are things
There is no cure for hot and cold.
and that is what i leave you with.
There is no cure for hot and cold.
all sorts of wierd is going on, and will likely increase tremendously in the next weekend, but, hmm, i have hope
so- things are things
There is no cure for hot and cold.
and that is what i leave you with.
There is no cure for hot and cold.
Saturday, December 09, 2006
florida
Florida. “Welcome home” they say at the port terminal. Really? welcome home.
I am overwhelmed and drowning. I don’t know that I can adequately describe how confusing everything is. I was in India for six weeks- home for maybe one and a half- and then back out. I haven’t been here an extended period since June. What is home?
So many people left the ship overjoyed. “It was the experience of a lifetime. I totally recommend it.” “Best time of my life.” “The ship was amazing.”
I remember a trip with a friend in Istanbul; I say she is an amazing and beautiful person. She replies, “Really? How do you know? I can’t see good now. I can see beauty, yes, but not good or bad.”
I’ve heard a lot of people describing the world as their playground.
I can’t say I didn’t have an amazing time- amazing in the sense of- well, I was amazed. But that doesn’t always mean fun. I wouldn’t want to leave this trip like, “Whee!!!! Fuck yeah I went crazy everywhere and had a blast.” Of course I had a great time many places, but the entire time I’ve been thinking-analyzing-reflecting. I think my eyes have been open for a while- but this trip did something more. Opened my heart? My energy? Coming ‘home’ is one of the most painful things I’ve ever done. Sorry to the rents. Aside from that, I don’t feel I have a home. The house is where my parents live, but I couldn’t move in there. Not now, not after everything. New Orleans is a home- unless nature decides to bury her in centuries of human neglect and inevitable change. On the flip side, I could go anywhere. I feel I could be dropped anywhere and survive. How is it I feel this way about the world, and not here?
End point: I have to process.
Traveling, looking around. So much beauty, but so much pain. I feel like I could do something- that inevitable feeling, as spiderman says, that with great power comes great responsibility. I don’t want to say that the world is my playground- as if I’m going to run around and tear shit up. The world is not here purely for my enjoyment. Of course, I will enjoy it. I will love it and roll in it and cry for it- but there needs to be a sense of care. I am compelled.
Let’s see where I am after a week of thought and meditation, shall we?
I am overwhelmed and drowning. I don’t know that I can adequately describe how confusing everything is. I was in India for six weeks- home for maybe one and a half- and then back out. I haven’t been here an extended period since June. What is home?
So many people left the ship overjoyed. “It was the experience of a lifetime. I totally recommend it.” “Best time of my life.” “The ship was amazing.”
I remember a trip with a friend in Istanbul; I say she is an amazing and beautiful person. She replies, “Really? How do you know? I can’t see good now. I can see beauty, yes, but not good or bad.”
I’ve heard a lot of people describing the world as their playground.
I can’t say I didn’t have an amazing time- amazing in the sense of- well, I was amazed. But that doesn’t always mean fun. I wouldn’t want to leave this trip like, “Whee!!!! Fuck yeah I went crazy everywhere and had a blast.” Of course I had a great time many places, but the entire time I’ve been thinking-analyzing-reflecting. I think my eyes have been open for a while- but this trip did something more. Opened my heart? My energy? Coming ‘home’ is one of the most painful things I’ve ever done. Sorry to the rents. Aside from that, I don’t feel I have a home. The house is where my parents live, but I couldn’t move in there. Not now, not after everything. New Orleans is a home- unless nature decides to bury her in centuries of human neglect and inevitable change. On the flip side, I could go anywhere. I feel I could be dropped anywhere and survive. How is it I feel this way about the world, and not here?
End point: I have to process.
Traveling, looking around. So much beauty, but so much pain. I feel like I could do something- that inevitable feeling, as spiderman says, that with great power comes great responsibility. I don’t want to say that the world is my playground- as if I’m going to run around and tear shit up. The world is not here purely for my enjoyment. Of course, I will enjoy it. I will love it and roll in it and cry for it- but there needs to be a sense of care. I am compelled.
Let’s see where I am after a week of thought and meditation, shall we?
All these pictures came from Burma. Reflecting on my trip- my best pictures have come from Burma. Complete beauty. I felt-terrible at times-when I was there. I saw the pain. Looking back, I see the beauty. I wonder what I would find if I returned.
the journey
Dec. 4th/5th/why be a slave to time?
Learning. Someone shared the tale of a recovering druggie at home- this friend told him before he came on this voyage to learn, learn, learn. Not to have fun- to learn. Another girl shares her bout with clinical depression. She has learned again to love life, but realizes the value of walking through the dark. I see a lot of dark sometimes on this boat—but like I used to tell a friend, think of how much more powerful I will be at the end.
This trip has helped me to find my voice. I have realized I don’t know many things, but found strength to speak out about the things I do. I have questioned pretty much everything.
You know, this was planned out as a journal- a chronicle of my adventures to fill in all the folks back home. But I think I would bore you with a mere list- it wouldn’t do justice to my experience or your mental depth. Hope you don’t mind.
Pictures to come (in maybe a few weeks J )
Learning. Someone shared the tale of a recovering druggie at home- this friend told him before he came on this voyage to learn, learn, learn. Not to have fun- to learn. Another girl shares her bout with clinical depression. She has learned again to love life, but realizes the value of walking through the dark. I see a lot of dark sometimes on this boat—but like I used to tell a friend, think of how much more powerful I will be at the end.
This trip has helped me to find my voice. I have realized I don’t know many things, but found strength to speak out about the things I do. I have questioned pretty much everything.
You know, this was planned out as a journal- a chronicle of my adventures to fill in all the folks back home. But I think I would bore you with a mere list- it wouldn’t do justice to my experience or your mental depth. Hope you don’t mind.
Pictures to come (in maybe a few weeks J )
Espana
LIFE!!!!!!!!!!!!! As chris Langley used to say: rawr!
What have I learned? What has been the purpose of all this? Fun is a transitory and somewhat shallow emotion- what exceeded that? Croatia offered much time for contemplation- a quiet, wintry land. Spain- craziness. I realize once again that there are niches all over the world that I would love.
There is both exhilaration and fear that accompanies the realization: I can go anywhere and survive. I am a tiny person in a huge world. Everything is bigger than me and yet I am a part of it all.
I have so very much to learn, as do we all. Traveling simply increases the awareness of my own empty mind. Lord do I try to fill it, but the world is far too large. And so I have worked on my heart- keep it open, keep it full. Has it worked? I hope. Hope.
So for a while, Bowie has graced my mind: chchchchanges..turn and face the strange, chchchanges, pretty soon now your gonna get older, time may change me, but I can’t change time
Notes to self (and you): listen to more rage against the machine
Learn to tag
Dance
Don’t Worry, Be Happy
I’m so glad I’m not Milagro- so glad to be me.
Note to others: stop listening to others when they are negative. If someone tells you you can’t do something- it’s only impossible in their fearful reality, and that is an illusion. Ignore them to the fullest and find your own path. You are all birds, and you are free.
To catch up:
Croatia- swimming, islands, rock, wine, cheese, climbing
Spain- major art museums of Madrid- the Prado and Reina Sofia, complete lack of sleep, gitanos, bar fights (not me not me!), playgrounds, pubs clubs and discos, calimocho, rage, dreadlocks, rastas, lights, more gitanos!!!, flamenco, big skirts and tight pants, white suits, more wine, cathedrals of epic proportions, postcards, pigeons, milagro, and uh- trains? –oh, socialism too, god bless
What have I learned? What has been the purpose of all this? Fun is a transitory and somewhat shallow emotion- what exceeded that? Croatia offered much time for contemplation- a quiet, wintry land. Spain- craziness. I realize once again that there are niches all over the world that I would love.
There is both exhilaration and fear that accompanies the realization: I can go anywhere and survive. I am a tiny person in a huge world. Everything is bigger than me and yet I am a part of it all.
I have so very much to learn, as do we all. Traveling simply increases the awareness of my own empty mind. Lord do I try to fill it, but the world is far too large. And so I have worked on my heart- keep it open, keep it full. Has it worked? I hope. Hope.
So for a while, Bowie has graced my mind: chchchchanges..turn and face the strange, chchchanges, pretty soon now your gonna get older, time may change me, but I can’t change time
Notes to self (and you): listen to more rage against the machine
Learn to tag
Dance
Don’t Worry, Be Happy
I’m so glad I’m not Milagro- so glad to be me.
Note to others: stop listening to others when they are negative. If someone tells you you can’t do something- it’s only impossible in their fearful reality, and that is an illusion. Ignore them to the fullest and find your own path. You are all birds, and you are free.
To catch up:
Croatia- swimming, islands, rock, wine, cheese, climbing
Spain- major art museums of Madrid- the Prado and Reina Sofia, complete lack of sleep, gitanos, bar fights (not me not me!), playgrounds, pubs clubs and discos, calimocho, rage, dreadlocks, rastas, lights, more gitanos!!!, flamenco, big skirts and tight pants, white suits, more wine, cathedrals of epic proportions, postcards, pigeons, milagro, and uh- trains? –oh, socialism too, god bless
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