We arrived to the volunteer camp a few days ago and were greeted by getting dots put on our foreheads.
It really is a camp, and I kind of feel like I'm on Survivor. Everything is outdoors except my bedroom (though the bugs don't seem to know the difference). I walk everywhere barefoot. There are hammocks for reading. Our meals are served outdoors and we only get meat twice a week. There is a small store on camp where we can buy water, Coke, or chocolate. We write down what we take and only pay on Mondays.
I wash my clothes in a bucket and hang it dry (though it never really dries, on account of the constant monsoons). When I was packing for this trip I brought as little as possible, thinking the idea of "just having to make due" seemed charming and adventurous. Now, as I sit out in the heat between torrential downpours, scrubbing my clothes in a bucket filled with dirt and bugs, I find myself asking myself things like "Really? I couldn't have packed just a few more pairs of panties? REALLY?"
Shockingly, we have a small recreation room that has a few computers where we get free internet (though power outages are frequent and I usually experience at least two in the course of writing an e-mail). The recreation room also has a library of books left by previous volunteers. Unfortunately, most of them are in German (except for one written by one of my old IU professors, and another one advertised as "the closest you can get to having an affair without actually having one").
The amount of down-time we have had at camp over the last few days has been making me kind of panicky and delirious. Luckily, volunteer work finally starts tomorrow. (I think it does, anyway. Every day they seem to tell us it starts tomorrow).
Monday, June 6, 2011
Friday, June 3, 2011
Miraculously made it to India despite all my flights getting cancelled the day of. Instead of transferring in Brussels, I was put on a plane to Abu Dhabi (which I have since learned is the richest city in the world and also the vacation destination in Sex and the City 2) on an airline called Etihad, where all the flight attendants wore box caps and head scarves.
"I'm so sorry," the woman sitting behind me on the plane said as she tried to restrain her toddler, who had been poking and prodding me with papers for the past half hour while I watched a documentary on Taylor Swift. "It's because you're the only white person on the plane." Fair enough.
Another woman on the plane explained to me that she had been to India nine times to visit a man who "heals the sick and the blind, just like Jesus Christ." (He also predicted her sister's divorce). She showed me a picture of him, and he did not look how I would have expected someone compared to Jesus to look. He looked like Jack Black with an afro.
I was picked up by Rajeev, my program guide, when I finally landed in India. He laughed at me when I tried to put on my seatbelt, which was broken. "You don't need seatbelts here," he said. I then proceeded to have the scariest driving experience of my LIFE. Apparently here there were no road rules, or lanes, or qualms about young children on motorcycles.
I tried to keep up my end of the upbeat conversation I was having with Rajeev about school and family as we drove past homeless children sleeping on raised cots on the side of the road and packs of diseased, stray dogs circling around them. It was quite shocking.
Suddenly we came to a stop in the middle of the slums, and Rajeev announced that we had arrived at our hotel. He said I would be sharing my hotel room with a German girl who had arrived a couple hours before (it was 3am, by the way). When I walked into the very small room, I quickly figured out that sharing a room also meant sharing a bed. There was a door that I thought, for a moment, might lead to a second bed. But turned out it just led to a shower stall with a toilet and sink inside.
In the morning I met the other girls in the group, who also happened to all be from Germany, though none of them came together. All of the conversations since then have been strictly in German, so I have mostly been talking to Rajeev or daydreaming as they all giggle and bond.
It's extremely alienating most of the time, but the loneliness has also led me to do things I might not have otherwise done, like befriend a group of English-speaking Indian children who brought me mangos and excitedly asked to trade me rupees for my American dollars and coins.
After two days, another girl joined our group late. And she is from... Chesterfield, Missouri. Like me. Pretty crazy.
On Wednesday, the group set out for our two-day trekking adventure. In total we walked/climbed about 14 miles through the Rajmachi jungle and mountains. It was extremely hot and strenuous, but in the end the views made it worth it, and also made me wonder why I waste so much time indoors.
We also each went repelling down a 50-foot fortress wall that was on top of a 800-meter mountain. "Are you sure this is safe?" we asked the guide as he beat a stake into the ground and tied a rope around it. "What if the rope snaps?" (One of his ropes HAD snapped, in a previous demonstration). But he ignored our concerns, thrust equipment at us, and started repeatedly shouting, "Come on! Start wearing harness!" until we complied.
So one at a time he guided each of us off the fortress wall, yelling "Lean back!" and "Don't bend !" as we trembled with fear. But we all did it, and I have the leg bruises to prove it.
We stopped at a few different villages during our trek, which were located, out of nowhere, right in the middle of the jungle. We spent the night at one of the villages, and lived as the people there did- no shoes, no electricity, no A/C, no toilet, nothing to wash with except water that is unsafe to drink, our dinner (which we ate on the floor, with our fingers) served to us by a village woman on her hard, stone floor-same as the floor we slept on. It was amazing to realize, really realize, how simply so many people live.
The next day we had a long trek back through the mountains. When we were almost back to our bus, the first monsoon of the season hit-hard. We ran for shelter under someone's home along with the cows, chickens, and local children.
A shower never felt as good as it did that night.
"I'm so sorry," the woman sitting behind me on the plane said as she tried to restrain her toddler, who had been poking and prodding me with papers for the past half hour while I watched a documentary on Taylor Swift. "It's because you're the only white person on the plane." Fair enough.
Another woman on the plane explained to me that she had been to India nine times to visit a man who "heals the sick and the blind, just like Jesus Christ." (He also predicted her sister's divorce). She showed me a picture of him, and he did not look how I would have expected someone compared to Jesus to look. He looked like Jack Black with an afro.
I was picked up by Rajeev, my program guide, when I finally landed in India. He laughed at me when I tried to put on my seatbelt, which was broken. "You don't need seatbelts here," he said. I then proceeded to have the scariest driving experience of my LIFE. Apparently here there were no road rules, or lanes, or qualms about young children on motorcycles.
I tried to keep up my end of the upbeat conversation I was having with Rajeev about school and family as we drove past homeless children sleeping on raised cots on the side of the road and packs of diseased, stray dogs circling around them. It was quite shocking.
Suddenly we came to a stop in the middle of the slums, and Rajeev announced that we had arrived at our hotel. He said I would be sharing my hotel room with a German girl who had arrived a couple hours before (it was 3am, by the way). When I walked into the very small room, I quickly figured out that sharing a room also meant sharing a bed. There was a door that I thought, for a moment, might lead to a second bed. But turned out it just led to a shower stall with a toilet and sink inside.
In the morning I met the other girls in the group, who also happened to all be from Germany, though none of them came together. All of the conversations since then have been strictly in German, so I have mostly been talking to Rajeev or daydreaming as they all giggle and bond.
It's extremely alienating most of the time, but the loneliness has also led me to do things I might not have otherwise done, like befriend a group of English-speaking Indian children who brought me mangos and excitedly asked to trade me rupees for my American dollars and coins.
After two days, another girl joined our group late. And she is from... Chesterfield, Missouri. Like me. Pretty crazy.
On Wednesday, the group set out for our two-day trekking adventure. In total we walked/climbed about 14 miles through the Rajmachi jungle and mountains. It was extremely hot and strenuous, but in the end the views made it worth it, and also made me wonder why I waste so much time indoors.
We also each went repelling down a 50-foot fortress wall that was on top of a 800-meter mountain. "Are you sure this is safe?" we asked the guide as he beat a stake into the ground and tied a rope around it. "What if the rope snaps?" (One of his ropes HAD snapped, in a previous demonstration). But he ignored our concerns, thrust equipment at us, and started repeatedly shouting, "Come on! Start wearing harness!" until we complied.
So one at a time he guided each of us off the fortress wall, yelling "Lean back!" and "Don't bend !" as we trembled with fear. But we all did it, and I have the leg bruises to prove it.
We stopped at a few different villages during our trek, which were located, out of nowhere, right in the middle of the jungle. We spent the night at one of the villages, and lived as the people there did- no shoes, no electricity, no A/C, no toilet, nothing to wash with except water that is unsafe to drink, our dinner (which we ate on the floor, with our fingers) served to us by a village woman on her hard, stone floor-same as the floor we slept on. It was amazing to realize, really realize, how simply so many people live.
The next day we had a long trek back through the mountains. When we were almost back to our bus, the first monsoon of the season hit-hard. We ran for shelter under someone's home along with the cows, chickens, and local children.
A shower never felt as good as it did that night.
Friday, May 27, 2011
Question: What do the following things have in common?
Sharing a bathroom with seven people
Keys lost inside a moving truck
A tornado
Crying a thousand times
Finding out I'm moving to Iowa
My dad's impromptu gall bladder removal surgery
Answer: My graduation weekend.
Life after school has been strange. And to make it stranger, I've decided to go volunteer in India for eight weeks in the middle of monsoon season.
Stay tuned to hear about my adventures.
Sharing a bathroom with seven people
Keys lost inside a moving truck
A tornado
Crying a thousand times
Finding out I'm moving to Iowa
My dad's impromptu gall bladder removal surgery
Answer: My graduation weekend.
Life after school has been strange. And to make it stranger, I've decided to go volunteer in India for eight weeks in the middle of monsoon season.
Stay tuned to hear about my adventures.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Went to the grocery store a couple days ago and passed a woman in the toothpaste aisle who was carrying a live baby lamb, wrapped against her body by her coat. She walked quickly and her two young children followed.
I stared at the baby lamb.
"Great Mom," her son said as they brushed past. "Now everyone is looking at us again."
I stared at the baby lamb.
"Great Mom," her son said as they brushed past. "Now everyone is looking at us again."
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Practicum Wednesdays make me so happy that I literally have to drug myself just to fall asleep. Otherwise I'm smiling and shaking in bed all night off the high.
I also have to take a bath before sleep to calm my body. For a while I sensed that something was missing from these baths, and eventually I realized what it was: bubbles. So I went to Walgreens to buy Bubble Bath. All I could find was Mr. Bubbles, advertised to be bubble-gum scented and fun to make shapes with! I kept searching the shelves for adult bubble bath... turns out there is no adult bubble bath.
So now I'm off, once again, to make bubble-gum scented shapes.
I also have to take a bath before sleep to calm my body. For a while I sensed that something was missing from these baths, and eventually I realized what it was: bubbles. So I went to Walgreens to buy Bubble Bath. All I could find was Mr. Bubbles, advertised to be bubble-gum scented and fun to make shapes with! I kept searching the shelves for adult bubble bath... turns out there is no adult bubble bath.
So now I'm off, once again, to make bubble-gum scented shapes.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Spilling Shit
Well kids, I don't have any good reasons for not updating this since June 4, 2010.
Unless you consider the following to be good reasons: full-time graduate student, 3 jobs, classes, a full case load of sobbing clients with issues ranging from substance abuse to domestic abuse who beg me to make their pain go away, daily paperwork for said clients, writing a book, over 4 hours of commuting per week, maintaining a long-distance relationship, and keeping up a social life with old friends and classmates.
I do, however, have a good reason for not updating in the past week: internet at my apartment is out. Although even that is not a good excuse, because I have been frequenting a local restaurant called "The Junction" to use their Wifi. (How do you spell Wifi? Not sure). Anyway, a miniature train runs along the top of the wall there, making it feel like I am trapped (but in a good way) inside a never-ending episode of Mr. Rogers.
Last time I was there I was focusing so much on the train that I spilled my glass of water all over my keyboard. I told Doug to go ask for napkins and he came back and said that a waitress said she would bring a bunch over in a second. But one minute later I was still dripping and we had seen no trace of napkins. Then the waitress he had talked to, along with two others, came out holding an ice cream sundae and singing "Happy Birthday" to the table of high school students next to us. Clearly we'd been forgotten.
Earlier that week I had spilled my water at a Thai restaraunt, after which the guy at the table next to me shouted out "Don't worry about that! I do that all the time!" which I thought was a kind gesture from a stranger.
Also, during Sunday breakfast I poured coffee on my pancake instead of syrup. I just grabbed the wrong pitcher and started pouring and said out loud, as I poured, "This syrup is really liquid-y." Krys says this is the best thing to have happened in 2011.
Unless you consider the following to be good reasons: full-time graduate student, 3 jobs, classes, a full case load of sobbing clients with issues ranging from substance abuse to domestic abuse who beg me to make their pain go away, daily paperwork for said clients, writing a book, over 4 hours of commuting per week, maintaining a long-distance relationship, and keeping up a social life with old friends and classmates.
I do, however, have a good reason for not updating in the past week: internet at my apartment is out. Although even that is not a good excuse, because I have been frequenting a local restaurant called "The Junction" to use their Wifi. (How do you spell Wifi? Not sure). Anyway, a miniature train runs along the top of the wall there, making it feel like I am trapped (but in a good way) inside a never-ending episode of Mr. Rogers.
Last time I was there I was focusing so much on the train that I spilled my glass of water all over my keyboard. I told Doug to go ask for napkins and he came back and said that a waitress said she would bring a bunch over in a second. But one minute later I was still dripping and we had seen no trace of napkins. Then the waitress he had talked to, along with two others, came out holding an ice cream sundae and singing "Happy Birthday" to the table of high school students next to us. Clearly we'd been forgotten.
Earlier that week I had spilled my water at a Thai restaraunt, after which the guy at the table next to me shouted out "Don't worry about that! I do that all the time!" which I thought was a kind gesture from a stranger.
Also, during Sunday breakfast I poured coffee on my pancake instead of syrup. I just grabbed the wrong pitcher and started pouring and said out loud, as I poured, "This syrup is really liquid-y." Krys says this is the best thing to have happened in 2011.
Friday, June 4, 2010
BLOG
OMG I momentarily forgot that I have a blog. And by momentarily I mean for 6 months. Please forgive me.
Today I was writing at a hippie cafe when a large, weird, kid (and by kid I mean early-twenties) wearing his iPod came up to me and started a conversation about how .02% of a body's mass is plastic, due to the bits of plastic that we swallow when drinking from soda bottles. And then about how he licked paint off his finger once on the way to Yellowstone and was sick for 3 days. And about how he can only use the Pus and Boots glasses he got from McDonald's as decoration because they are lined with cadnium, much like Ancient Romans lined their wine with lead. "That's why children today eat so many paint chips," he said, though i don't really understand where that came from.
Then he started a conversation with the Indian gentleman sitting near us.
iPod guy: How was your day today?
Indian gentleman: Pitiful. Just like every other day. Pretty much par for the course at this point.
iPod guy: What do you think is the single biggest mistake in the history of brewing beer?
Indian gentleman: Volstead Act.
iPod guy: Nah, I think it was the adding of lime.
::::::Indian gentleman sighs, puts down his book, and rubs his forehead::::
Indian gentleman: Do you even know what the Volstead Act was?
iPod guy: Um, refresh my memory
Indian gentleman: It's what started the Prohabition.
iPod guy: That's what started Nascar too.
Indian gentleman: It started a lot of things.
iPod guy: Do you think they'll try another Prohabition again soon?
Indian gentleman: They already ARE!
iPod guy: In the U.S.?
Indian gentleman: What do you think drug laws are?
Indian gentleman proceded to give a lecture about his outrage over the high drinking age in the U.S. and marijuana being illegal.
Listening to this was really interfering with my ability to write poignant prose. So I packed up my laptop and went over to Krys' apartment and we went shopping and she bought an outfit that she saw me wear last week and then we each bought the same outfit, so now we have 2 outfits the same and that's nice for if we ever have to do co-therapy or just if we want to be festive. Then we decorated the YSB with a blind woman and her two dogs, for the graduation party of some kid i don't know. Then we watched her foster child almost get hit by a car. That's all you need to know.
PLEASE COMMENT PLEASE.
Today I was writing at a hippie cafe when a large, weird, kid (and by kid I mean early-twenties) wearing his iPod came up to me and started a conversation about how .02% of a body's mass is plastic, due to the bits of plastic that we swallow when drinking from soda bottles. And then about how he licked paint off his finger once on the way to Yellowstone and was sick for 3 days. And about how he can only use the Pus and Boots glasses he got from McDonald's as decoration because they are lined with cadnium, much like Ancient Romans lined their wine with lead. "That's why children today eat so many paint chips," he said, though i don't really understand where that came from.
Then he started a conversation with the Indian gentleman sitting near us.
iPod guy: How was your day today?
Indian gentleman: Pitiful. Just like every other day. Pretty much par for the course at this point.
iPod guy: What do you think is the single biggest mistake in the history of brewing beer?
Indian gentleman: Volstead Act.
iPod guy: Nah, I think it was the adding of lime.
::::::Indian gentleman sighs, puts down his book, and rubs his forehead::::
Indian gentleman: Do you even know what the Volstead Act was?
iPod guy: Um, refresh my memory
Indian gentleman: It's what started the Prohabition.
iPod guy: That's what started Nascar too.
Indian gentleman: It started a lot of things.
iPod guy: Do you think they'll try another Prohabition again soon?
Indian gentleman: They already ARE!
iPod guy: In the U.S.?
Indian gentleman: What do you think drug laws are?
Indian gentleman proceded to give a lecture about his outrage over the high drinking age in the U.S. and marijuana being illegal.
Listening to this was really interfering with my ability to write poignant prose. So I packed up my laptop and went over to Krys' apartment and we went shopping and she bought an outfit that she saw me wear last week and then we each bought the same outfit, so now we have 2 outfits the same and that's nice for if we ever have to do co-therapy or just if we want to be festive. Then we decorated the YSB with a blind woman and her two dogs, for the graduation party of some kid i don't know. Then we watched her foster child almost get hit by a car. That's all you need to know.
PLEASE COMMENT PLEASE.
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