tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-43167053256978469542024-03-08T00:12:44.501-08:00WetterbergueseA blog to follow my dream of traveling around the world helping people while in return I discover myself.Terrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14924882563451209194noreply@blogger.comBlogger50125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4316705325697846954.post-49959698887592249602014-09-05T19:25:00.000-07:002014-10-01T19:27:07.867-07:00Hippie Road Trip – Stop 1 Hervey Bay & 2 Stumpleaf/Agnes Water/1770<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="background: white; font-family: inherit; text-indent: 0.5in;">When Dhan found out that I was not going to meet up
with our mutual friend, Andy, in Sydney for another week she suggested we hire
a car so she take me in a hippie road trip to see her friends. Our
first stop was Hervey Bay to crash at her friend, Annie’s place, before we
picked up the car the next day. Annie used to live in Utopia but now
lived in seaside city with her daughter and her parents who had retired
there. She talked to me about the
benefits of eating raw and drinking kefir, a fermented beverage made with yeast
and bacteria that has even better health benefits than yogurt as they contain
three times the probiotics and other great things for your body, which I had
the pleasure of being introduced to the day before by one of Dhan’s friends in
Utopia. I also learned it is really easy to make and therefore I plan to
make for myself when I return to the states.</span><span style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; text-indent: 0.5in;">The following afternoon, after wandering H</span><em style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-style: normal;">ervey Bay</span></em><span class="apple-converted-space" style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; text-indent: 0.5in;"> Botanic<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><em style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Gardens</span></em><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; text-indent: 0.5in;">,
their cute little</span><span class="apple-converted-space" style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><em style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Orchid</span></em><span class="apple-converted-space" style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; text-indent: 0.5in;"> House</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; text-indent: 0.5in;"> and spending two dollars for a cute
hummingbird top and another warm sweatshirt at an Op Shop we picked up our
upgraded midnight blue VW Golf at the airport to begin our road adventure. It began with me in the driver seat on the “wrong
side” of the car and Dhan reminding me to stay on the left side of the road every
time we took a turn. After a few turns and weird round abouts I got
quickly got the hang of it, and found myself trying hard to follow the posted
signs and stay a "Sunday Driver" going at most, if I was lucky, 110 km/h
the equivalent of only 68 mph; no wonder
it takes people so long to get around the country. When I did decide I
couldn't take the people driving under the speed limit, even a few ks, I revved
the little car's engine and gloried in the few moments of passing, even though
I freaked a few people out. With our New South Wales plates, Dhan
informed me this was okay, because Queenslanders would think I was a
"Mexican" and there for a crazy driver. I find it hilarious
that Queenslanders call those living in the southern states “Mexicans” as they
live south of their border, so for one week I thoroughly cherished this title
especially with my love for everything Mexican. Slang, such as this, was constant conversation on the my entire trip,
and I am happy to report Heaps and Full-On are two words I find myself saying
constantly and a few people there now call u-turns flipping a bitch. I also Aussie’s like, even though it can be
very confusing that, Aussies like to call things the opposite of what they are. For example when something is red they say it
is blue, which is why the nickname of our second host Josh, a pale ginger
dreadlocked hippie, is Brother Blue. </span></div>
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<span style="background: white; font-family: inherit; text-indent: 0.5in;">When Dhan explained to me we were going to being
staying with a guy she met wearing fairy wings on the roof of the earthship
they were building, I knew I was going to meet someone special, and it couldn't
have been more true as he is one in a billion in this universe and the
next. Josh lives a short drive from the center of Agnes Water, a tiny
magical town on Discovery Coast, on his friends’ 40 acre property they loving
named Stumpleaf. As we drove past the sign "watch out for
naked hippies", Josh and his loyal dog Chelsea greeted us with a whoop,
what I soon learned to be his normal happy hello. He then hopped in our
car, with Chelsea chasing us, and directed us down a path more than a road,
which really annoyed car as it constantly beeped at us warning of all things
(nature) we might run into, to the area he was turning into his home. As
we rocked up, we saw the dam to the left and this amazing canopy area next to a
small tent and fire pit. Josh had only moved on to the property four
months before but you could see all the work he had put in. His plan is
to build a house, but there are heaps things on the list (which he still probably needs
to write, wink</span><span style="background: white; font-family: inherit; text-indent: 0.5in;">) before that can happen, including renovating an old caravan he and his
friends hope to rent out for a little extra money to backpackers in the
area. For now, we shoved a mattress on the floor and stapled green mesh
over the windows to keep the mozzies out, so we could be the first inhabitants.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; text-indent: 0.5in;">Once the caravan was ready and with the chill of the
night starting to set in I thought it was about time to bust out the Bundaberg Rum,
I had been carrying around for a week. I
am not usually a rum drinker but since my buddy Mike back in San Diego asked me
to bring him home bottle I figured I would give it a try to see if it was as
good as he made me to believe; and it is if you like the taste of whiskey,
because for some reason, at least to me it tastes more like that then any rum I
have tried. Despite it not being my
favorite, I continued to drink it as it helped keep me warm. I was soon grateful Josh was cooking a meal
full of delicious vegetables to slow down the affects since I only had a couple
of beers here and there since I had left Seattle, a month and half ago.
The crispy salted chips he made for everyone, quickly and rather selfishly
became a meal for one as I waited for the other food. With all the
singing, talking, chanting, and finally the other food it seemed like no one
cared too much. As the night went Josh brought out his Hapi drum to play,
a round steel slit/tongue drum that he had fashioned from an old propane tank.
The name perfectly fitting his persona and the sound being produced a gate way
to his soul. I couldn't stop myself from trying, and quickly found the gentle touch
required very difficult, and made me admire his talent even more. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">At some we all fell asleep to be awoken with steam
radiating from our mouths and the dam by Josh’s phone alarm happily signing
"Good Morning!” over and over. If I
hadn’t been too busy laughing at how this piece technology also managed to
mirror Josh’s personality, I would have been a bit put off, just like I was in
college when my cheerleader friend greeted me as we opened the bagel at 4:30am –
she a ball of happy energy excited to start the day and me ever so slowly
letting in gently wake me. He quickly
made some coffee on the coals left from last night, and jumped in car telling
us he hoped to knock off by 2pm. When I could no longer see his car I, a
bit guiltily, burrowed back into the blankets and drifted back to sleep.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Around 10 am I
finally awoke craving ice cream, and since I am an adult and could eat ice-cream
for breakfast Dhan I headed in search of some. Before you could blink we
were through Agnes, not finding fulfillment, and on our way to the sleepy town
of 1770, where Captain Cook, to the determent of the aborigines made his second
landing in Australia for his counterparts back in Europe. It has a
Florida Keys feel, even though it is quite a bit smaller than any key that I
had been too. We took in the coast line until the road dead ended at a
scenic point, and since we were there we decided to get out and take in the
view. Heaps of blue tiger butterflies, which I called blue monarchs at
the time, because instead of orange filling the gaps between the black pattern it
was lite blue, floated about as we made our way to an overlook of a beautiful
beach, that would have been the perfect canvas for the artist, Andres Amador,
as the sand laid smooth and untouched from any footprints. If I had any
ambition that morning, I would have made the beach adeptly named Butterfly
Beach my own canvas, but two locals reminded me of my morning mission and told
me where I could find the ice cream my belly so desperately wanted. They said we should try Mammino the infamous
local brand of ice-cream which you could find just down the road at the Agnes
information center of all places. When we arrived at the information
center the lady gave us a strange look when I asked for ice cream but Dhan
pointed to the small sign displaying the "famous" ice cream brand
that actually came from another town two hours down the road. She told us
she wasn't sure if they any but she would check. When she came back she was
holding two canisters, both chocolate peppermint, I was disappointed not to try
the cashew flavor the ladies said was the best, but decided to still give it a
try. With all the buildup, I was quickly disappointed, the "ice
cream" tasted more like yogurt frozen, then even frozen yogurt. The
good thing being I would never want to eat this brand again, and therefore not
miss it when I left the area. After my
ice cream adventure we decided to grab lunch, and wouldn't you know it the
place sold scooped ice-cream, which I probably would have been more satisfied
with. Oh well.</div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; text-indent: 0.5in;">With our bellies full we headed across the street to
Sol Foods, this amazing organic food and shop, where Dhan's friend, Shelley,
the owner with her partner Bob of the first earthship in Australia, was the
cook at. She came out to say hello with big hugs, inviting us to visit her home
the next day, but telling us to meet her and her friends at the local pub that
night for a chance to play Jackpot Jokers a raffle she planned winning and buying a new
car with. With a few hours to spare before Josh got home, we headed
to one of the charming deserted beaches, this one being where Dhan had
celebrated at with her earthship mates. It was basically empty with the
chilly wind and prickly ocean water, but it didn't stop me from stripping to my
bikini and taking a nice nap. </span></div>
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<span style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">When we got back to Stumpleaf I chilled while Dhan took
a nap in the shade, until Josh pulled up.
As soon as he opened the door Chelsea and his cat, Pus, came trotting
out of the woods for a hello. Josh
quickly got down on the ground and gave them both tons of love and
attention. You could tell it was a daily ritual. Josh took a quick
nap and then took out his Hapi to play in the sun. As played we both went
in and out of meditation, the perfect blend of man, music, and nature. Time
rolled on until it was time for us to head back into town.</span></span></div>
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After a few quick turns, because Josh is a TERRIble
navigator, we arrived at the local watering hole aptly named Agnes Water Tavern
which is located on Tavern Road, you have to love small towns. The Tavern
had the feeling of a gaming hall with a stage out the way, and a really nice
outside patio. I was impressed. As we were running late, the first
thing we did, even before getting drinks, was get in line to purchase “Jackpot
Joker” raffle tickets, an ongoing raffle where in a locked cabinet are 53 cards,
where at the start of the game they are all face down and amongst the cards is
a joker. Each week raffle tickets are
sold for £1 each, and also include chances to spin the prize wheel, win meat,
or find the joker for the pot of cash that has been building up. If no one finds the joker the card stays face
up and the money rolls over to the next week.
As the weeks go by the odds and the pot get better and better, this week’s
pot was $9,600 and there were only 6 cards left to find the joker from. The three of us not wanting to win over a
local decided to split a set of tickets. We then ran into Shelley,
and her two friends, Karli and Alex, this amazing couple who met in Thailand at
massage school and where now traveling through Karli's home country and then
onto Alex's in France next. The funny thing about Alex is she half Greek
and half French, which we predicted we were going to meet when Josh's phone
turned to a language which we not certain of. We also said we were going to
meet a pirate, and there was a local man who has to wear a patch, but who gets
royally pissed when you call him a pirate - so we decided Josh should be the
pirate instead. Despite Shelley giving all of our tickets good juju by
rubbing them on her chest, and Alex's determination to pay attention to the
mayhem we did not win anything. <o:p></o:p><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; text-indent: 0.5in;">It was okay as The Mason Rack Band was to celebrate
with instead. They were really good, especially the drummer, despite all being
extremely cocky. It felt as if they played to be rock stars not because
of the love of the music. We danced until one of their breaks, when Josh
was dared to dump a wine bucket of ice and water over his head. Without
hesitation he stripped off his shirt and dumped the contents over his head as
Alex videoed. The bouncers, of course,
were not too happy, but because the ice bucket challenge had been going on
around Facebook they let it slide. We danced a bit more and ate Josh's
take away, until sleepiness caught up to the group. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; text-indent: 0.5in;">The early part of our second day was spent chatting
around the fire, until it was time to get ready for the local festival.
Let's just say it took Josh a bit longer then the ladies, it wasn't his attire
he was just wearing some cotton drawstring pant, no shirt, his turquoise
necklace, and a hat. It was all the stuff he brought, a jug of water, his
Hapi, another drum, trumpet, pillows, blankets, beer in his cooler named Pete,
a shirt, and who knows what else. But as he happily bounced around like
Tigger collecting it all you couldn't help but shake your head, it just Josh
being Josh. Finally we all packed in the car, a few reverses we stopped
at Shelley's, who was not at home, we found out later was nursing her hangover
from the night before with Kristi and Alex. Off to find grub instead,
Josh brought us to his first place of employment, but under new better
management by his friend’s cafe, that actually just opened that day. You
could tell the food was made with love because it was amazing! Back into the
woods, Josh driving a caravan, me following behind, we headed to Bustard Bay
one of only four places on the East Coast of Australia where you can watch the
sun rise and set over the ocean. I must
say it is harder to follow Josh driving a vehicle then his directions while
sitting in your car.</span></div>
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<span style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The 1770 festival was put on for all the visiting
cyclists, but by the time we got there it was more of a local thing. On the
beach to the west you could try out dragon boating if you wanted, which I
thought was ironic as my mom as in Italy at that exact moment cheering on my
aunt and one of her best friends in a world dragon boat competition and the
fact I had never heard about it outside my hometown. In the park area there
were some stalls and awesome live music, the reason for us being there.
Josh jammed with his buddy Dave, Jayson Kokles aka "Gypsy" the
roaming didgeridoo player, and some cat on harmonica. They were good but I much rather hear Josh
play and sing by himself, especially when it’s a private show in the middle of
nature. After they played we put to my surprise Josh's blankets and
pillows to use watching the other bands until Jack and the BOM played. Jack is this amazing 16 year old musician who
played solo for a while until he decided to get some of the rest of his musical
family involved. On the night we saw him the neck broke on his dads bass
so it was just him and his 12 year old sister on Frea on drums. They are
amazing, so much talent and love in one family, who also have a cool
story. Mama Blandford told us they travel around Australia for years,
until one day they decided as a family to put down roots in Agnes. You
can tell they are each other's best friends and love being with each other, not
something you see with many families these days. With the sun setting
behind Jack and the BOM it was amazing experience until it was time to pack up
and do a few turns on the way to my first drive through bottle shop and onto Josh’s
mate’s, who was not having a BBQ but was still nice of enough to let us in and
tell us about the drinking game wizards. Wizards is where you stack your
beers into a staff, you are an apprentice until your staff is as tall as you, then
once it is you are a wizard and can break other people's staffs. I
was glad we only learned about it as I was dd and would have wanted to
participate. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; font-family: inherit; text-indent: 0.5in;">With the following day being Dhan and my last’s we
decided to head over to Shelley’s once again, so I could hopefully have a tour
of her earthship that both Dhan and Josh volunteered to help build and that I
had heard so much about. </span><span style="background: white; font-family: inherit; text-indent: 0.5in;">An earthship is a passive solar house made of natural
and recycled materials, such as rammed-earth tires and glass bottle walls. The way they are built also allows for minimum,
if any, need for</span><span style="background: white; font-family: inherit; text-indent: 0.5in;">
public utilities and<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><span style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: 0.5in;">fossil
fuels making it one of the greenest ways to build and live. I have to
say it is an amazing work of </span><span style="background: white; font-family: inherit; text-indent: 0.5in;">architecture, and I can’t wait to see when it is 100% and
they are living in it. Until then I’ll just watch the docos and be thankfully
for Shelley allowing me a visit. After
our tour, we all decided to head to the outskirts of Agnes for a good bye lunch,
despite it being Australian Father’s Day, at the tantalizing Get-Away Garden Café. The food and the company was magical just
like my entire hippie road trip thus far.
We made one final stop at the area Josh’s friends were going to build
their house in Stumpleaf, and got out of the car to wrap our arms around a
giant tree. Yes, I was being a stereotypical
tree hugger with total hippies, but I couldn't have been happier especially because
I knew in a few minutes I would have to say goodbye. </span></div>
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<span style="background: white; font-family: inherit; text-indent: 0.5in;">When the time finally came there were tears in my eyes especially
when Josh presented me with his turquoise necklace. I was a bit speechless at such a thoughtful gift,
but managed to squeak out a thank you and you shouldn't have. The first
few hours of our drive I kept touching each stone like a mantra, until I
thought I might wear them out, so I put it around my neck where it is not only
safer, but where it has been basically since.</span><span style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: 0.5in;"> I am such a lucky girl to always meet such
amazing people, even though I know I will begin missing a short time later. But as Josh says you shouldn't miss them,
just cherish them until the next time you meet again.</span></div>
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Terrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14924882563451209194noreply@blogger.com1Agnes Water QLD 4677, Australia-24.2129852 151.90273879999995-24.3288287 151.74137729999995 -24.097141699999998 152.06410029999995tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4316705325697846954.post-39618729925371923282014-08-29T00:10:00.000-07:002014-09-25T00:15:15.595-07:00Visiting Dhan's Utopia<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I met Dhaniella (Dhan) three years ago in Japan on Project Tohoku,
where just by looking at her dreads and how she dressed knew that she
was a hippie. It was not until after talking to her though that I
learned she was living off the grid three and half hours outside of
Brisbane in the community of Utopia. When I decided I was going to take
the monetary plunge and head to Australia I knew she had to be one of
my stops, which happened to line up with her rain water tank raising
party. Since she doesn't drive and obviously no buses go to where she
lives she arranged a ride for me with her friends George and Mel. They
are the type of people that you feel like you know for ages after
knowing them a few hours. </div>
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We arrived on
Dhan's land in the dead of night, with only her solar powered rainbow
lights and a sliver of a moon giving me any clue of what I had gotten
myself too. I quickly asked for something warmer to wear even as we
settled in around the fire with beers in our hands. Dhan provided me
one of her well worn house coats, a bright blue silk lined with fleece.
It became a trusted combatant against the falls nights during the
duration of the stay. The first night I squeezed in Dhan's caravan with
her so Mel and George could sleep in Dhan's summer tent under the mango
so they didn't have to put using headlights.<br />
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When
I woke with the sunlight the next morning with a Rudolph nose, I
finally got to see the home Dhan created. The huge mango tree not ready
to bear fruit, but covered with enough leaves to provided extra
protection of a four man tent (now mine for the rest of my stay) from
the cold nights and warm days. The "toxic" teepee, where you went
number two in a hole that Dhan dug earlier in the year, which actually
was quite magnificent. You sat on a toilette seat attached to a milk
crate, with the teepee and pirate flag guarding you from human eyes,
while facing nature's glory. I know this is t.m.i. but night poops soon
became my favorite, where I could enjoy the release of one of our
amazing meals while wishing upon stars. It you could replace the milk
carton with a Japanese heated toilet, I might have never left that
space. The tin shed used as a kitchen with a new added refrigerator
and gas burner stove that you have to be careful doesn't go to crazy
and burn the roof. Then of course Dhan's caravan, and the creation from
her last party, raise the roof overhead, which added an extra layer
against the elements, a better place to collect solar, and soon to be
rainwater collector/director to the water tank we were building.<br />
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One
of the main things you need in life is drinkable water. Off the grid
you can water your gardens, wash dishes, and take showers in dam water,
but to drink even after boiling was not a great idea, so instead of
buying water from town, borrowing from friends, Dhan thought it was time
to build a rainwater collection tank. One of the many tasks on her
list of comfortably living away from societally conveniences and the
annoyances that come with them. When we arrived she had already dug and
leveled the base for the foundation, we were going to build with
recycled tires. We found the tires that would provided the best base
and started filling them with dirt and gravel, and then we packed it
until we thought it was sturdy with our feet and sledgehammers, but of
course it wasn't. So we repeated this process for about 5 hours, quickly
finding what make tires so great to build with with, their side walls
our nemesis, as that is the hardest place to pack the dirt in. Finally
we took all the bounce out of the first layer of tires, and were able to
level it with dirt and dancing. The next day we completed another
layer, but only taking half the time with the lessons we had learned
from the day before, pack the sides first as when you fill the center
expecting it to move to the sides, it won't work. Duh, it's a dry
substance not a liquid. Unfortunately people had to leave before the
last layer of tires and rendering was complete, so Dhan will have to
have another party which I will not be able to attend. I can't wait to
hear how the rest of the job goes, and see pictures of Dhan drinking
water from everyone's work. </div>
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There were a lot of great times in Utopia but I want to share the two most memorable.</div>
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One
afternoon Dhan and I choose to relax by taking the hour walk through
her community to the neighboring national park, Mount Walsh. While there
we hiked through more open forests and grassy woodlands to Waterfall Creek, which due to lack of rainfall was at a trickle. Even
still the natural rock pools that have potholed into the granite by
years of water erosion where still breathtaking. Dhan enticed by the
fresh water decided to plunge in, after 30 seconds, enough to get one
layer of red dirt off she was back out, where as I was happy just dangle
my feet in and see watch the baby crawfish try to bite my toes. </div>
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One
night we decided to pass the time by watching movies on laptop charged
earlier by sunlight, next to Dhan's potbelly wood stove, drinking hot
chocolate under the stars. For what we choose to watch you really
couldn't be in a better setting or set-up. We watched Waking Life an
animated movie is centered on a young man (the kid from Dazed and
Confused) who wanders through his dreams encountering numerous
individuals who willingly engage in insightful philosophical discussions
including but not limited to, how can one distinguish dream life from
waking life and do dreams have any sort of hidden significance or
purpose? The second movie we watched was Into The Wild based on the
travels of Christopher McCandless across North America and his life
spent in the Alaskan wilderness in the early 1990s, even with the tragic
ending, the movie was the perfect choice for the setting we were in and
the hippie road trip we were about to embark on as it mirrored the
lives of many of the people I was about to meet.</div>
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Terrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14924882563451209194noreply@blogger.com0Mount Walsh, Biggenden QLD 4621, Australia-25.5666667 152.04999999999995-51.0887012 110.74140599999996 -0.04463219999999879 -166.64140600000007tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4316705325697846954.post-34854084477300927572014-08-19T21:43:00.000-07:002014-11-17T17:39:09.684-08:00New Delhi's Puppet Colony <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<i>Please note
that below is not hard facts, but instead based on what I found on the
web, from those living in Kathpulti, and my short experience visiting
the colony. I apologize for any misinformation. </i></div>
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Kathputli
Colony is stuck between the metro and railways lines in the Shadipur
Depot area of Delhi, just a few miles away from Connaught Place and its
fancy shops. Named after the centuries—old wooden string puppets of
India’s Rajasthan state, Kathputli Colony is said to be the biggest
single concentration of traditional street artists in the world. About
800 families have settled here since India's Independence from Great
Britain.</div>
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Its
narrow lanes and teetering brick houses are home over 600 artists who
have represented India in fairs and festivals in countries near and far.
They are dancers, sword-swallowers, singers, fire–eaters, magicians,
snake charmers, musicians, acrobats, jugglers, sculptors, mimes,
artists, puppeteers, folk singers, bear handlers, monkey trainers,
ribbon dancers, and other practitioners of fasts disappearing
traditional arts. </div>
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The
colony began organically in the 1950's. Performers from all the
different regions and artistic tribes from the country would come to
Delhi to perform, and then they would go back on their routes. However,
as T.V. and radio became available in the rural villages, their was less
money to be had, so they had to move into the city, where people would
still pay to witness their talents. They settled upon a scrubby
woodland area on what was the edge of town at the time, and started
making homes with their own hands and resources. More and more people
came, so more and more was built, to present day where there are around
40,000 people living in Kathputli. As the colony grew so did India's
capital, which makes the colony relatively central now, only 15 minute
metro ride from parliament, fancy shops and hotels, museums, ministries
and the central business district. What once was scrubby forest is now
some of the most valuable land in the area.</div>
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So
is Kathputli Colony a slum? It's alleys are strewn with garbage and
sometimes feces, as there is no proper sewer system or garbage system. Children paddle in stinking black drains, not realizing how unhealthy
it is for them, instead simply thinking how nice the cool mixture feels.
Electricity supply, "borrowed" from the nearest pole is basically a
constant, powering fans, swamp coolers, color tv's and even a colony
arcade with four games. Water is supplied by the government to the
areas that are lucky enough to be hooked up to the system, but as it
runs through old pipes and tubes, it is constantly contaminated. For
those not lucky enough to be hooked up to the main system, those who are
not pay 3-7 rs. depending on the size container they have to those who
share. With lack of access to water, also means not everyone has a
bathroom, and there are only five public bathrooms for the entire colony
and they cost a small fee per use. Most have a gas cooking stove to
boil water and cook food throughly, but some do not. Within the colony
some are defiantly better off than other, poor, really poor, desperate. </div>
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Kathputli
Colony's 6.5 acres is broken up into different areas based on religion,
Hindu, Muslim, Christian, etc. and by which Indian state they come such
as Rajasthan, Andhra Pradesh, Maharashtra, UP, Bihar and Gujarat, with
11 different languages spoken. This may lead one to believe there is a
lot tension, but in fact, the community is closely knit, centered around
family and each other. Families live together for years, sometimes 6
families living in only four rooms. When you literally live on top of
each other you have to find a way to make it work. </div>
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As
one walks it's is easy to get lost with so many many criss-crossing
pathways, surrounded by dilapidated hovels, shanties, pucca houses,
cemented dwellings, and mud huts, but as you do you also notice that
there is a beauty to it. It's hard to explain to an outsider, but I
will attempt. Walls are painted in painted in bright colors, children
play with homemade toys, and women hustle around carrying water, making
food, and washing clothes in their colorful sarees. Besides the
constant buzz of mosquitoes and flies, you can hears musicians and
singers practice their craft, and the jingling of their silver anklets
and glass bangles creates a fine music.</div>
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Rent
averages at about 1,000 rupees ($17) per month and can be as low as 185
rupees ($3.50) per month. Besides making money as performers,some make
money as rickshaw drivers, cleaning houses for the affluent down the
street, selling sweets, mending clothes, others in the lower class
resort to trash picking and sometimes prostitution. Government schools
are technically free in India, but there is a cost for uniforms and
supplies, which means quite a few children go without, with the girls
usually being pulled out first. </div>
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The
harsh conditions make for some of the toughest, most creative, and
thrifty people in one area. So yes, Kathpulti Colony, is officially
defined as a slum, but at its core it’s an artist community with people
making the best life they can. There is a sort of dignity to it all. </div>
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I
encourage you to visit it and it's in habitants and also make up your
own mind as words, especially mine, will never be able to fully describe
its complexity. </div>
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Terrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14924882563451209194noreply@blogger.com0Kadputli Colony, Shadipur, New Delhi, Delhi 110008, India28.653738530382117 77.15222847298582628.650255030382116 77.147185972985824 28.657222030382119 77.157270972985827tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4316705325697846954.post-57332674851848559482014-08-18T16:00:00.000-07:002014-09-14T23:51:09.555-07:00Tushita - finding happiness.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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About three months ago when I decided to go to India, I decided to look into Buddhism courses, as the county is home to His Holiness the Dalai Lama while he is in exile from Tibet, I figured it be one of the best places to learn about more about this religion/ philosophy, something I had wanted to learn more about since my brief time teaching English to monks at Rigon Choeling Tashi monastery in Nepal, the fact that I believe the Dahlia Lama is the happiest person on the planet, and I want to be happy too and help others to be happy. Using good ole Google, I came upon Tushita, located in the hills only a 10 minutes from his home, which focuses on teaching Tibetan Mahayana Buddhism. Twice each month they offer a 10 day residential "Introduction to Buddhism" course for a nominal fee (enough to cover food and shelter) to whoever was interested in learning. It seemed perfect, except for one catch, the course was to be done in silence, but not 100% silence as you could ask questions during lectures and in the organized discussion groups. After some pondering and some discussions with family and friends (no I would not shave my head and become a monk...well unless I really thought it would make me happy) it came down to two thoughts I really wanted to learn and that some monks do this for years so I surely could survive 10 days. </div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I finally arrived on Saturday, August 9th, my mom's birthday. There were 51 other people, from around the world, with different cultural and religious backgrounds taking the course with me. The only surface things we had in common was English, an interest in Buddhism, and that we had to follow the same rules during our stay. In addition to being silent we all had to follow the first five monastic vows: do not kill, do not steal, do not lie, remain celibate, and do not use intoxicants. Since they cooked amazing vegetarian meals for us, kept us pretty busy; first meditation at 6:45 am, then breakfast, two lectures on Buddhist , lunch, karma yoga job (mine was washing windows which I finished in one day), discussion groups, another lecture, tea, meditation, dinner, meditation and expected us to stay on Tushita grounds for the duration, what I internally called the safety net during my course, they were pretty easy to keep. The hardest part was forgetting my good habits, saying bless you, please, thank you, and keeping "noble silence," not looking at people in the eye or smiling at them. Also because everyone was supposed to be in silence it was hard for me to be patient with those who were not, I constantly had to tell myself to act compassionately, something Buddhism holds at its core, for those who found it difficult. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Besides compassion another thing I really like about Buddhism / H.H. Dahlia Lama is my understanding that they want everyone (emphasis on everyone) to be happy aka reach nirvana and do not think the Buddhist path is the only way, just the way, they believe, to be the fastest. For example during the first lecture we were given two pieces of information: first, that we may treat Buddhism as a supermarket, by picking out the pieces of the teachings that we find most useful; and second, that (as the first Buddha himself said), it is absolutely necessary that we do not take anything on faith alone. We must be cautious buyers, such as a goldsmith buying gold, you must check each nugget of data with our own rational minds before accepting it as to be true. This approach hands the controls to the individual, which is both a curse and a blessing. You are allowed to deal with our own doubts and difficulties in our own individual ways, but it also means you have to make up your own mind on what is good for you and the planet as there are no absolutes. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">To teach the above Buddhist philosophy and more, the course was a mixture of lecture and meditation. This combination gave us space and time to work through any challenging material and to put the lessons into practice. I never knew there we different kinds of mediations, I thought meditation was simply a mind empty of thoughts. I found out their are a variety of types and our course would focus on "mindfulness" meditation and guided "analytical" meditation. Mindfulness meditation is essentially a practice in focus; one chooses a single object, often the sensation of the breath or a mental or physical image, and attempts to single-pointedly observe that object without distraction. The idea is that, when mindfulness practiced in meditation is applied to the rest of life, we are more aware and in control of our own thoughts, emotions and actions. This is the one I have an extremely hard time with during the course and the one I will need to practice and not give up on because in the long term I think it will be super beneficial to me and my sleep. On the other hand, analytical meditations are meant to bring the knowledge from the lectures or anything we comprehend intellectually, to a deeper level of understanding. This understanding provides an easier path to put into to practice or accepting, as it is for you and no one else. These mediations were a bit easier for me and not only helped me better understand thing, but were also extremely healing.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">An example of this teaching is one of the lessons about the Buddhist view of "emptiness." I put emptiness in quotes because it is the Buddhist view of it and not our traditional view of the word. Basically, the idea is that everything that we see, experience, perceive, exists only through the filter of our own minds; nothing has an inherent existence without its relation to something else; without good there could be no bad, without many colors there could be no yellow. Because of this reasoning, we must understand that any attachment or aversion that we hold towards these pieces of the world is only a construct of our own minds as well. Thus, the emotional responses that we habitually fall into because of these attachments are aversions are in our own control. For example, using this thought process, if a person says something that I find irritating, I can recognize that the person is not inherently irritating, nor are the words inherently irritating, instead these "realities / irritations" are created by own mind alone, and through this knowledge I can avoid being irritated. This simple shift in perception of reality puts a person in control of their own experiences and their own emotions, and gives one the full power to be happy. Having this knowledge is the first step, now putting into to practice, against old habits, shared customs, ignorance is the hard part, and something I will struggle with until the day I die. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Speaking of death, we talked about it a lot and even meditated on it, since Buddhist philosophy not only teaches emptiness it also teaches impermanence. The metaphor for it being a river. From moment to moment, second to second, a river is always changing, not just the water but the animals, the trees, the world, and of course us. This constant changes means eventual death and is one of the easiest ways to gain an understanding of impermanence and our resistance to accepting it. Each second, we are getting closer to this moment and even though we all know it is going to happen to us all one day, we still tend to deny it. So we talked about it instead of leaving it down deep and had an amazing, yet heartbreaking, we at least for me, meditation about it. Again we all know we are going to die, but most of us don't know, unless the doctors give us an estimate, so the guided meditation instructor told us three weeks and walked us through the days, asking what we would do, who we would have to say goodbye to and the tears in the room started to flow. I didn't cry for the physical things I would not have the chance to do since I have led an amazing life, but it did remind me I better keeping living each day the best I can and to the fullest. I did cry about the lost friends and the ones that deserve my forgiveness or I need to ask forgiveness of. Mainly, I cried at the goodbyes not wanting them to happen, but knowing no matter what that someday they would have to happen. Facing this heartbreaking reality, through meditation, was a way to start conquering the fear of death (for me the goodbyes) and one of many tools that will help me be prepared for when they are certain to happen. Crap, I'm crying now just as I reflect, so you can imagine a room full of people meditating on them, sounds of tears running and sniffles in every direction, which may sound strange and uncomfortable, but in fact was the opposite, because it reminded everyone you are not alone as we all face death and the things that come with it. Another reason to be kind to those you love, those you hate, those who are strangers. Also even in facing death there is a world going on around you that you can care for, so in this meditation not only we were facing our own impermanence and the worlds, we were able to help each other through it - you could feel the love and warmth in the room, which in turn made it a safe place to deal with even deeper things. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Tantra in Buddhism is the combination of wisdom and compassion, which is exactly what we received with our teachers. Our very insightful dharma teacher (wisdom) was Venerable Tenzin Legtsok, who has a very interesting story on how he ended up finding Buddhism and deciding to be a monk. In a nut shell, he grew up Catholic going to Catholic schools in Vermont, to a mom who was working to become a nun and a father working to become a priest until the found each other and love and decided to marry instead of being ordained. In turn they had a son and daughter. The son, Brian, would question the idea of a creator God, fight cancer and some how end up in India finding the answers he searched for in Buddhism. He has been living and studying at Sera Monastery, and takes breaks to help others find answers by teaching at Tushita. I wanted to hear more but decided my short time at Tushita was better spent focusing on self (aka why we took the vow of silence anyways). Our meditation teacher (compassion) was Richard, a former yoga center owner and teacher from Holland now who volunteers, basically full time, at Tushita where he lives inside a gompa of all places. Even with his dedication, I find it interesting that his guru (Buddhism teacher) advised him not to become a monk. He was so kind and compassionate, and as you read before, led the group on some amazing meditations. To my head he is a bit out there, but as life goes on I have been learning to believe in the maybes and more importantly not to dismiss someone's belief (unless they hurt them or someone else), especially since I might actually be the one who is wrong (kind of like, the majority of people thinking the world was flat for centuries). They make him happy, so why not. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Thinking about Richard and his thoughts on energy and spirits made me think of other things I used to close my mind off to but now think maybe. Such as reincarnation, which is a big part of Buddhism and also Hinduism, and how both religions explain karma. I believe in its existence because of one of the monks I taught English to being a reincarnation that has memories of his past life. Hearing stories about him and seeing with my own eyes how age old wisdom would flash into his eyes, made be believe it was true for him and maybe others. Since I'm still wrapping my brain around it, I plan on reading Ian Stevenson's, a University of Vermont professor, "20 Cases Indicating Rebirth," to learn more. I told my discussion group I believe that when we die we each make our own decision on where we end up, if we believe we are going to hell, we go to hell, if we believe we will be reincarnated as a hungry ghost we will be reborn as a hungry ghost, if we believe we end up as worm food and only have one chance then the circle of life it is for us. The part I'm struggling with is for those who don't know, don't believe, which includes myself. They joked I should start my own religion, I joked back my parents though I might be joining a cult by taking this class but in actuality they should be afraid I might be starting my own. Another "maybe" I explored while in McLeod Ganj, was reiki (energy healing). My classmate was taking courses and her teacher could fit me in before I had to hop on the night bus back to Delhi. After the intense 10 days I thought this might help with the transition back to reality. I have no idea if it helped or not, as it is hard to differentiate with all that I learned and the amazing full body massage I had for $10 after, all I know is that directly I didn't feel a thing. My friend assures it takes a few times to notice, which combined with my lack of belief might means it might take longer. My western need for immediatance and the fact the same treatment back in the states is triple the cost has me thinking this one will always be a maybe. Lastly one of my Tushita classmates, who throughout the course seemed the most dedicated to the Buddhist path, is a hypnotherapist. I have seen the shows where people act like they are having babies, stripping every time they hear "I am sexy and I know it" and feeling like they are being tickled every time they are gently touched but always thought it was a elaborate entertainment hoax, until my new trusted friend explained and demonstrated on our fellow classmates. Seeing him practice it and how they literally couldn't remember their name, become stiff as a board, and their reactions after the fact made me a believer and also a bit freaked out knowing it actually works...especially when another classmate blurted he wanted to know how to control people. At least my new friend the hypnotist, assured me that he only works toward better the person he is hypnotizing. I'm still not ready to try myself though, as I can still believe it will be hard for me to put under, one of the few benefits of me not being able to relax and let go. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">There are so many things that made an impression on me but the last one I want to be sure to mention was the affect of coming out of silence had on me. On our last day after our first meditation we no longer had to follow the rules, the only one some people seemed to stop following instantly was silence, which freaked me out, the easiest way to explain it is labelling it as culture shock. I wasn't ready for the idle chatter, to open my mind back to the reality outside Tushita, and having to decide when to talk/make noise again. The weirdest thing was over the course of the day, during certain intervals I couldn't talk I could only cry, I was extremely overwhelmed. I have stopped crying but feel like I have been a lot quieter since, which has been awesome as it is making me a better listener. I only hope it continues as I settle back in to my life. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">This blog is just one small drop out of the ocean of wisdom I was granted over my time at Tushita. I came out of Tushita brimming with warmth, a sense of calmness, better able to focus on the present, and what my happiness, not society's or anyone else's looks like. I can only hope, I don't slip into my past bad behaviors and remain friends with the beautiful people I met.....this post is dedicated to you! </span></div>
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Terrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14924882563451209194noreply@blogger.com0McLeod Ganj, Dharamshala, Himachal Pradesh, India32.2425758 76.32127809999997232.2157163 76.280937599999973 32.2694353 76.361618599999971tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4316705325697846954.post-87446929221476845002014-07-25T20:47:00.000-07:002014-08-04T00:15:20.374-07:00A Birthday in India<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">On the morning of my 33rd Birthday, I woke up thinking, "Oh crap" I hadn't taken my malaria medicine the night before, so I popped a doxycycline in my mouth and started checking Facebook, and found quite a free people had already written on my wall. As I shuffled through the wonderful messages my stomached started feeling funny, I tried to lay back down and sleep it off, but my body had other ideas I was going to get sick, and in a very disgusting toilette, at that. As I leaned over the toilette that had not been cleaned in at least 6 months, except maybe the seat, I thought between heaves, "Happy Birthday, Terri this is great way to start the next year of your life." I got the nasty green pill up and out and then proceeded to dry heave because it was all so disgusting. With some more self talking, this time, "Terri, this is NOT how you are going to spend your birthday." I pushed myself off the floor and washed my face, being careful to keep my mouth shut, from the bucket for bucket showers sitting next me. I slowly got up and made it back to my bed, where I slowly feel back to sleep. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">About an a hour later I woke up for the second time on my birthday, with both of my roommates gone, I was a bit grateful as was a bit embarrassed about my the first start of my day. I decided to take a shower, using the bucket I had filled before. I needed to restart my day. About ten minutes in there was a brisk knock on the door, "Terri, when are you going to be finished?" Oh, crap my roommates had returned and probably thought I was getting sick again. "In about 10 minutes," I replied to Shiva. I finished up and walked out of the bathroom and instead of finding two grossed out faces, I found big smiles and a a small chocolate cake with three candles on top. They laughed asked if I was okay, and when I smiled proceeded to sing me happy birthday. It turns out when they left in the morning it was not because they were grossed out, but instead to get me a cake which we all had for breakfast. Shiva eating three pieces, Andoni two, and I one, I was still a little weary. It was a great gesture and I couldn't help having a few tears come to my eyes, which would be the first of many that day.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">We had a slum walk for 5 people that day, a student from Mexico, an intern from Germany, and a family from Britain which included a mom wearing heels. Chunky heels, not stilettos but heels non the less. This was going to be an interesting group. As we walked towards one one of the new places on my favorite places in the world list, I reflected on some on my past birthdays. Last year's crying over an idiot boy and my roommate brining me tiramisu to cheer me up, the year before that convincing my mom, her best friend / my 2nd mom, and my best guy friend to go to burlesque show that was complete crap so we left in the middle, my 30th in Seattle with amazing friends including one who shares the same day, a stripper class for another, one I spent in a train, plane, automobile and bus, the one I dragged everyone back to the Ye Olde Plank in Imperial Beach for. I have been pretty blessed. And now I am in India playing real life frogger, with me as the frog and cars as logs, the tuk tusk as lily pads.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">I tried to keep my birthday on the down low because I didn't t want to take away from the guests experience but my new friends had other plans. As we walked in to Kathpulti Colony to the usually hellos and handshakes, their were a few Happy Birthdays mixed in thanks to Laxmi.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Our first stop was the kindergarten, but with the large group and the fact that their are typically 15-20 tiny bodies, 2 teachers smashed into a tiny room that is equivalent to a sauna Jhon, one of the guides and I decided to hang out on the Main Street. Suddenly arms were thrown around me, and for a moment I stood there shocked, this had never had to me in the slum before, until I heard a giggle and a Happy Birthday whispered in my ear, it was Arti, one of the vocational school girls. I couldn't help but join in her laughter and also laugh at myself. She then led me to the vocational school where I was greeted with more hugs, happy birthdays, and two home made cards, drawn by two of the talented girls, who just a few days earlier proudly showed me their handiwork.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">We had some chai and biscuits and then went on to weave through the streets and faces that were finally becoming familiar to me. This was the punjabi area where my favorite puppeteer and his family lived, this is the Muslim area where a family had crammed a different tour group and myself in their tiny room to serve us chai and a tapioca pudding mixture in celebration of one of their many festivals, around the corner is the school where the fortunate children if the slum go, a short walk from their you can find the ladies cutting strings off jeans for a rupee a piece, through the recycling area, and to a new surprise five spider monkeys. I had seen a monkey in the slum before, just one, and knew it was for the monkey show, but this time a few yards from that monkey their were five, with one ready with his butt towards the group ready to spray! I am happy to report that it is the almost getting sprayed and not actually getting sprayed that I will remember from the monkey with giant gonads on this crazy birthday.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Onto an area where puppets are painted on the wall and where the kids know I will play the hand slapping game I know from my childhood with them. It was an area some of the musicians knew to find the tour group if they wanted to make a few extra rupees. On this particular day, they put on a show using traditional instruments, singing traditional songs, with one girl in a beautiful bright pink dress with silver edging and beadwork dancing along. On a previous trip they had used things, such as styrofoam, boxes, pans, they had found in the street or had at home.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">As we came out of the house where they had performed for us, we came face to face with one of the vocational girl's, secret boyfriend, that I had meet earlier in the week. He heard it was my birthday and asked the whole group and I into his tiny home to put on a special " free, no charge" show, as he was a great musician. Five foreigners, two volunteers, two guides, seven or eight family members in a space a little bigger than a Cali king bed. He pulled out his harmonium, a mixture between an accordion and a tiny piano, and proceeded to sing us a welcome song.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">His father, an older weathered gentleman with a great moustache dressed in a thin undershirt and sarong, heard all the commotion and decided to join us. A moment after we found a spot for him on the crowded floor called for a dohl, a type of drum for his son so he could take over the harmonium. The welcome song was replayed, a few more, and then they were singing me their version of "Happy Birthday!" As the family serenaded me, I couldn't hold back the tears as they happily fell down my face. The funny thing being another son filmed the whole thing, so some where out there is a video of me crying on my Birthday, the bright side being that anyone who could identify me in wouldn't be surprised. Another song was played and a grandson dressed in his best joined in with a traditional dance. He asked us all to join and soon enough were all doing our best Indian dance interpretations. The family asked us to join them for a meal chai, part of me would have happily stayed, but the western part said no thank you they already had given me so much. As we left the old man hugged me, which doesn't happen to much in India, adult males hugging females, at least in my experience, and said something my English only ears couldn't understand. Laxmi quickly translated and said you are now a daughter and welcome any time you want. I thanked him the best I could, with a huge smile and a promise that I would never forget him and his family.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">As we proceeded with the rest of the tour, I apologized to the rest of the group for the side tour and extra time, they all said no problem and were grateful for the unique experience. The German intern saying it even brought a tear to his eye.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">My birthday was capped off with me reading more birthday messages via the internet and opening a card from my parents that had been waiting in my bag since I had left home. Inside was a ten dollar bill, typical daddy-o, and a note that they were proud of me, loved me, and to have a great time. We did a quick skype call where I told about my special quirky special birthday and they reiterated the same things that they had in the card. I am so lucky to be born such amazing parents.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Only a month before I had thought about delaying my trip until after my birthday, I was afraid I might be alone. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine it would be the most heartfelt and warm one I would ever have. I only hope I can learn to be as generous as my new friends, savor the joy of giving, and rock heels anywhere like the British lady.</span><br />
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Terrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14924882563451209194noreply@blogger.com0Kathputli Colony Slum, Kadputli colony, Shadipur, New Delhi, Delhi 110008, India28.6534164 77.15318990000002928.6499329 77.148147400000028 28.656899900000003 77.158232400000031tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4316705325697846954.post-6199678516946033442014-07-23T09:45:00.000-07:002014-08-04T00:15:56.839-07:00India, What Did I Get Myself Into? Part 2<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I was dead tired after traveling for 28 hours, getting on
and off sleep, and being in a time zone 14.5 hours ahead of my home in
Wisconsin, but when Andoni, the volunteer from Spain, who rescued me earlier,
and Laxmi, the proud staff member, asked me if I wanted to visit the slum an
hour after I arrived, I of course said yes. This is why I had to come to
volunteer, to see and try to understand what slum living is, and if there is
anything I could do to "help". </div>
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We walked down the road, and I started soaking everything in
literally and figuratively, the 104 degree Fahrenheit heat, the pollution
making me wrinkle my nose, the smells of piss and feces, mixed with frying
food, the way everything looked so used and abused, the bright colors from the
saris of the few women I saw walking by, the abundance of men, the dirt between
my toes, and thought to myself I am not sure, not sure at all if I am going to
like this place. I made idle chit chat, but more than anything I observed
and tried really hard not to get ran over by the motor bikes, tuk tuks,
rickshaw, taxis, cars, trucks that whizzed on by honking their horn. At
first I thought they we aiming at the foreigners, as they were within inches of
our group, but soon realized the honk was for everyone, the language of the
street; sometimes a tap to say, "Hey, I’m right next you.” Sometimes
an angry long honk, saying, "You idiot why did you just cut in front me,
you know I can kill you, and I just might next time." A super loud
honk, saying, "Ha Ha, I made you jump." Because the noise is
constant, and not just during rush hour, it is 10 times worse than New York, but somehow you
find a way to tune it out.
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A small left turn after a few shops on the side of the road,
and Laxmi, suddenly turns to me and says, "Terri, you are now entering the
slum." I didn't know what to expect, you have images in your head
from movies, books, and what people describe, but at the same time you have no
clue. All I can say is that it was different than the roads we were on
before, and everyone saying hello and wanting to shake your hand. I
literally walked two feet and shook more hands than I had in three
months. The children were dirty, some with sores, some with clothes, some
without, but the thing I remember most was their smiles and the true delight in
"meeting" you. Yes, a few asked for money, and some boys were
rude, touching my butt and pointing and laughing, but then that can happen
anywhere in the world. I was cautious, unsure, but my new friends kept
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I was lead into one of structures and was told it was one of
P.E.T.E.'s schools, Nirvana Kindergarten. The front was a small area where
the cooked one meal a day for the 35 students, and back was a 14x14ft room
filled with children ages 2 to 10 years old and their teacher and a
helper. The students were children of men and women who worked all day in
the slum, the kids would get some basic education and learn a bit hygiene, but
mostly it was a place for the children to see an adult eat some food, as most
of the kids don't have an adult watching over them during the day. The
oldest brother/sister/cousin would kind of watch over them, but they just did
what they did, coming and going as they pleased. After distributing some
clothes, that Air France had donated a few days before, we headed to P.E.T.E's
other school, a women's vocational school based out of one families home. </div>
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This home was a bit nicer then the school we had to just a
few minutes before. It had running water from a tap in their
"courtyard", a bathroom/washing area of sorts, and the house was
22x22 ft. The best thing being it at an air conditioner of sorts,
basically a fan that blew over cool water into the side of the house, so it is
actually pretty comfortable place to be, especially when it was crowded with
students, like it was on my first visit. </div>
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I was invited in and asked to sit, and since I was new I had
to sit on one of the small stools (we would have used it as a foot stool in the
states) while everyone else sat on the floor. Soon the beauty teacher
arrived, who also lives in the slum, but also has another job at a salon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is not the norm for women of the slum, the
majority of women have house cleaning jobs, or their husband won't let them
leave the slum to work. So why is there a women's vocational school in the slum
then, because with a skill/trade the women could make a little extra income from
their neighbors, friends, etc. The slum is truly its own thriving
community. </div>
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As beauty shop stereotypes go, before we got started we had
to gossip first. I was introduced to everyone, asked where I was from,
how old I was, and the most interesting question to them, was I married?
I told them, that I wasn't and they laughed asked, "Boyfriend,
then?" I replied, "Nope, no boyfriend either."
They looked at me in disbelief, and I added, "Maybe, someday."
To them this is a huge deal as they are typically are married off around the
age of 16, through an arranged marriage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>All the girls confided that they had the same choice I had.
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After getting the necessities out of the way, they moved on
to the day's lesson, manicures and pedicures, and asked if I would I like to be
their example. I easily agreed and soon found myself with my feet in a
bucket, which felt amazing after the trip I just had. A good soak and then
two teenage girls each had one of my ugly feet in their lap. They scrubbed
away the dirt that had been collected and then pulled out the lotion. I
had two people massaging my feet at the same time, I about died in luxury,
except I had twenty faces staring at me. Then they moved onto my hands
and I received the same treatment but from two other girls. They painted my
finger nails a brilliant red with pink sparkles, they were going to do my toes
too, but didn't have any nail polish remover to remove my 4th of July paint job
from two weeks earlier. So, in my first day in India, in the slum no less, I was receiving
a mani and pedi. I guess this place is not too bad after all. </div>
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Following beauty class is sewing class, two new teachers
arrive and they pull four out hand propelled machines. Here the girls are
taught how to patch, alter and sew new clothes; another useful skill in the
slum. Sadly this was the time I started falling asleep on my little stool,
until few giggles woke me up. Laxmi and Andoni were nice enough to ask if
I wanted to go, a bit embarrassed I said, yes, please. They assured me we
go back tomorrow and this was only the beginning. </div>
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Terrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14924882563451209194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4316705325697846954.post-43668268881396008312014-07-19T17:00:00.000-07:002014-07-26T07:28:25.812-07:00India, What Did I Get Myself Into?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">I left Seattle, Thursday evening, and finally arrived in New Delhi 28 hours later on Saturday morning. Walking off the plane I was grateful to find that the airport was actually pretty quiet, so I could find my bearings and leisurely go through my tasks ahead; picking up my bag, finding my power adapter, that I should have carried in my carry on so I could have used it in London, where I should have also used the internet to get the latest currency exchange rates as I had to pull out cash at the ATM and didn't know exactly what I wanted to get. I finally just went with the maximum amount of 10,000 Indian rupees (rs.) about 160 US dollars.</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">After getting situated it was off to find a taxi, as I had decided not to use P.E.T.E's welcome service so I could find my travel legs and, lets be honest here, because I am cheap. Being this way can cause some anxiety and today was no different. My mind was running with the words of my friends telling me that Dehli was unsafe, and that I had also read that the local cab companies, including the prepaid service ran by the Indian Police, will try and scam you, which I'm not completely sure if they tried on me or not. I'll let you decide.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">I had learned online that the fares usually cost about 350 rs. and that when you give them a 500 rs. note they distract you and then tell you that you only gave then a 100 rs. note. They told me my fare would be 400 rs. and I was okay with it as I figure the prices might have risen since what was posted online, and if they had not they were only scamming me out of the equivalent of a US dollar. So I handed the booth attendant 500 rs. note and then he asked me the exact address where I was going, somewhere in the shuffle a 100 rs. note appeared. It was then I said I had given him 500 rs. note and he quickly said in his Indian accent, balance, I repeated, that I had given him 500 rs. and he showed me my 500 rs. note and said the 100 rs. was the remaining balance. I laughed realizing he meant balanced owed not balance due, and I told him where I come from we tend to use the word change. I believe I am the one that truly screwed up, but who knows.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">That uneasy feeling stayed with me as I got in the taxi. I had no idea where I was really going, I could read some of the signs but it felt more like maze, and this awful thought that they could take me anywhere and say I had arrived or worse...damn why was I cheap? Signs, finally, started showing up for Patel Nagar the part of the city where I wanted to go, and then we turned in one of many bustling neighbors off the main road, where my cap driver asked again for the exact address, and I wondered how he could now in this entire city where I needed to go, but it turned out he didn't. He knew what area but not the exact location, so he asked some police men who gave them a general direction, then he asked a rickshaw driver who gave him more directions, and soon we were driving in some sort of circle trying to figure out this areas address system. It was then I realized if he was going to this much trouble, I must be safe and worse come to worse if we couldn't find it, I would just have him drive me back to the safety of the airport where I could figure out a plan B.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Instead he asked me if I had the number for the place I was going. It took three calls, but finally a volunteer at P.E.T.E decided to meet us at a "main" intersection (they basically all looked the same to me) and we would go from there. Finally a western looking man walked by, and I hoped it would be the person that could make this part of my journey finally end, but he walked on by just thinking my driver was just trying to offer his services. After a little commotion and him finally seeing the driver's cab with a western, aka white, girl sitting inside it did turn out he was my literally my "white" knight for the day. He helped me gather my things and I decided to give my driver an extra 100 rupees for going, to what seemed to me, the extra mile for getting me to the correct place. So with all that I saved about 10 usd. However, my travel legs felt a bit better, and I quietly reminded myself people are inherently good, not angelic good aka they might hustle you, but good none the less.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Extra information: I found out, after the fact, that the driver was complaining to the PETE manager, that we called for help, that I would not get out of his taxi. He was right I was not going to get out until I knew if I would be safe, lol. I gave foreigners a bad name in his book while he gave locals a good name in mine. LOL</span><br />
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Terrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14924882563451209194noreply@blogger.com0Patel Nagar, Delhi, India28.635308 77.2249600000000128.1893855 76.579513 29.081230499999997 77.870407000000014tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4316705325697846954.post-13149748291166669812014-07-18T22:18:00.000-07:002014-07-22T22:19:43.984-07:00Mt. Si - I actually made it to the top, well kind of.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="background-color: white; clear: left; color: #222222; display: inline !important; float: left; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;">With the winter being so crappy and the spring almost nonexistent in the Midwest I knew I wanted to do something outdoorsy when I got to Seattle, and that Vince would be the perfect buddy with him loving it and also having Friday off. Little did he know I was not the perfect buddy especially since I had not done anything physical in such a long time, unless Zumba and short walks count. He got a glimpse of this the night before when we bouldered at the local climbing gym and also my nervous questions about where we going to hike. We decided on a Mt. Si trail, a popular 4 mile hike that climbs 3,500 feet, just 45 minutes out Seattle.</span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2fWP6lZpR1w/U89CFr6xQfI/AAAAAAAACzc/hnng1xNQIT8/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2fWP6lZpR1w/U89CFr6xQfI/AAAAAAAACzc/hnng1xNQIT8/s1600/photo.JPG" height="200" width="150" /></a> <a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mm2oQUoyKTI/U89DdkSD6BI/AAAAAAAAC0A/NPqb6ZmjKnY/s1600/photo+4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mm2oQUoyKTI/U89DdkSD6BI/AAAAAAAAC0A/NPqb6ZmjKnY/s1600/photo+4.JPG" height="200" width="150" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; clear: left; color: #222222; display: inline !important; float: left; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;">The first mile was definitely the worse. Only a pathetic half mile in I was huffing and puffing, silently scolding myself about the situation I had put myself in. Vince seeing my distress was quite the coach, telling me to take three steps, breathe in, take three steps, breath out, as it would help my body regulate what I needed. He also had me make small goals, like to to the tree only a few feet a head, or just get past this bend, instead of thinking about the top. Little did he know, well he probably did, but at that point I had given up at reaching the top, my new goal was just half way. Finally my breath finally stated to feel okay, and my lungs didn't seem to be doing so much work. Also my pride started to kick in as people of shapes and sizes, to put it nicely, came down the mountain. If they could do it I better as hell be able to do it. All of sudden we were at mile marker 1.3, and my confidence in the original goal increased. Vince also assured me at mile 2 we would take a break and refuel. I didn't think I needed to refuel, as I couldn't imagine myself feeling better after one power bar, but boy was I wrong and Vince right, which I actually admitted to him.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">As we set off again I knew I had to make it to the top. Vince told me stories to kept my head occupied as possible, and also let me take as many breaks as possible. He also told me how he basically ran a up the trail the last time he did it which included a few of snow where the trees hadn't blocked the snow from reaching the ground. I don't if it was to make me feel better or worse but it worked, we were at mile marker 3. We walked some more and then you could see a bit of blue sky and then a bit more. Vince told me the top was not to far only 4 switch backs, if he remembered correctly. I pushed on through and finally 3 hours later, if I am recalling it correctly, we made it to the top.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">We scrambled up some rocks for a beautiful view of Mount Rainer to the south west, Seattle to the east and tiger mountain around there too. We sat down to enjoy our sandwiches and beers, as it part of Vince's tradition to drink one at the top, because as he told me it is a celebration and also a great way to give your body what it needed, alcohol to numb a little of the pain if you had it, which of course I did, and some nutrients to recharge your batteries. When we had picked up beers earlier that morning we had decided on one of my favorite beers, Maui Brewing Company CoCoNut PorTeR, but after being in my bag all day they were not as good as I remembered.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; clear: left; color: #222222; display: inline !important; float: left; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">After relaxing for 45 minutes, Vince tried to convince me to go to the highest point of the mountain with him, by climbing the summit block known as Haystack. It is a class 3 exposed scramble, which means basically crab walking up a lot of rocks. The going up didn't look to bad but the coming down did, so I said no thank you, I'll just chill with the view I have already. Vince was up in down in just 45 minutes. He said the view way a lot better because you had a 360 degree view but I was just fine with my 270 degree view.</span></span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Then we made our way down, where we passed tons of people coming up, some were seasoned hikers like Vince, but quite a few were like me. I could feel their pain, but of course they could not see it since on the way down I was all smiles as it is so much easier. I tried to give them words of encouragement, some seemed happy, but most gave you that sarcastic smile, that I think probably meant screw you as it had I when I was in their position. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">We kept going down singing silly songs, talking in funny accents, and Vince repeatedly asking me if I needed a break as he was so use to it from the way up, so I had to keep reminding him down was way way easier for me. We did take one more break at the half way mark to eat some more snacks and drink our final beer but that was it. And before you knew it were at the bottom.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">It was a great hike, but I was glad to be done, and I´m sure Vince was even more glad that is regular hiking buddying, Thea, is a lot better then I am. </span><br />
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Terrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14924882563451209194noreply@blogger.com0Seattle, Washington, EE. UU.47.6062095 -122.332070847.2636815 -122.9775178 47.9487375 -121.68662379999999tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4316705325697846954.post-74058180683977414102014-07-11T02:56:00.000-07:002014-07-22T03:38:02.375-07:00Seattle, Always a Good Place To Start<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">After three years I am heading back to Asia which has been harder and easier then the last time. It comes after a couple of weird years where I am still trying to find the place that works for me, and instead of finding it exactly, I am finding what does and doesn't fit. Because I was going West I figured I make my first stop Seattle once again, but since the last visit two big things had changed; my past trip hosts, Tracy and Chris and their son Harrison, had in increased their little family by adding a beautiful daughter, Nora and very furry dog, Hendrix, to the mix so I couldn't stay at their place again, but thankful two friends I had made while in Japan, Thea and Vince were now married and living in Seattle with a comfy couch. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">I arrived at 5:45pm to a crisp blue sky, the feel of summer, and Vince only 5 minutes away. When he arrived I jumped in his car and we were once again chatting like no time had passed since the last time we had saw each other, when we were both facing new adventures his leaving New Orleans and my arrival. It only reconfirmed that he he will one of those people in my life no matter how much time passes or the circumstances of how meet back up that we will pick back up where we left, always hopefully sooner than later but then life happens. With a quick stop at the gas station and Vince making sure I got a proper hug before we were of once again, this time to his him and his now, wife, Thea. I had also meet her in Japan but due to the lack of our time overlapping in Ofunato had not been able to get to know her as well as I had Vince. We decided burgers and beer for Vince and I and a BLT and butterscotch shake for Thea at Uneeda Burger would be a great place to catch up. They told me the ups and downs of being newly married, about both being away but in the middle from their families in Japan and South Carolina, and their hopes for the future.</span><br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RVdHte0nKzI/U849muT1WeI/AAAAAAAACzA/4UA74j5Ei6E/s1600/photo+4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RVdHte0nKzI/U849muT1WeI/AAAAAAAACzA/4UA74j5Ei6E/s1600/photo+4.JPG" height="150" width="200" /></a><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">The next day Thea had to work so Vince and I had to fend on our own after a leisurely start. We headed over to West Seattle to check out the beach and tried to rent a kayak but to our dismay found they were only open at that location on weekends, so instead we walked so I could soak in the amazing scenery which makes Seattle such the beautiful city that it is. If it was as warm as San Diego and without the gray, that I seem to miss every time I visit, everyone would be living there. We also saw one huge kid, closer to seven foot than six, who we hoped played basketball as it look like he was youth enough to probably still be growing. We then headed over to Fremont Brewery where we agreed Ports and Stouts our are mutually favorite and that more craft brewery's need to make them their signature instead of Indian Pale Ales or worse yet double IPAs. It probably won't be the case anytime soon for Seattle though since most of the Unites States hops are grown about an hour away. Vince was then kind enough to take me back to his place so I could take my daily "unemployment routine" nap before Thea got home and we all headed over to Rock Garden in Ballard. There we purposefully put on shoes tight enough that they curl your toes so you can better grip the rocks. As I was "bouldering" on 0, 1, and 2 level courses I realized, not for the first time in my life, that I have no upper body strength and how out shape I really am. I also learned you should really cut your toe nails before you climb, woo eeee. We closed the night with some fish and chips at The Sloop Tavern bar across the street, which reminded me of a bar back home, but a lot more expensive.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Wetterberguese,
was not something I came up with, it was made up by three of most of amazing
ladies, Lin, Jillie, and S, who know me sometimes, especially in this case,
since I don’t listen to myself talk, better than I know myself. They tell me I speak my own language, and
that language is Wetterberguese, and my second language is English. After
telling this to other people that know me well they also totally agree, and say that this makes so much more sense to them. They
also let me know that I write in Wetterberguese and not English, and that it is easier
to understand when read out loud then in your head, because I supposedly write exactly
as I talk. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">In case
you are wondering, yes, you can become fluent in Wetterberguese, just as you
can become fluent in Elvish, Klingon, and <span style="background: white;">Dothraki</span>.
And, just like those, it will not help you in job search. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
Terrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14924882563451209194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4316705325697846954.post-65575728592752626392014-06-27T14:09:00.001-07:002014-06-27T14:09:07.553-07:00Finding my happy place(s). <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Over the past few months people have slowly learned that I
am quitting a job (yes, another one) to go on another trip and to eventually
end up back in San Diego (well that’s the plan as of now). Surprisingly, most of the reactions are, I
wish I had the courage to do that.
Depending on how close I am to the person reacting, I either smile awkwardly
or let them know how scared I really am and that it is my bigger of fear of
regret and being unhappy, and my family and friends with louder voices then the
ones in my head that makes me push through. </div>
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Basically it is an emotional roller-coaster the last year and more so over
the last few days. Something I am use
too and something I have been trying to balance out – especially if I want to
reach my main goal of being comfortable with my unique me (not the one I THINK
outside forces want me to be) and being truly present. </div>
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So
yes, I go again searching; something I am afraid I will be doing my whole life,
but my psychologist tells me not to because from what she hears the search is
becoming smaller and more focused (how come hearing it from an almost stranger,
makes it easier to hear then yourself or loved one?). So, I go with this mantra – Terri, You got
this! and we will see where I end
up. <o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
Terrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14924882563451209194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4316705325697846954.post-39646259727305512022014-02-02T10:36:00.000-08:002014-02-02T10:36:13.889-08:00Date the Girl That Travels from Lifes a Butterfly <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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She spends her weekends jetting around Europe, her holidays trekking through Uganda in search of gorillas, volunteering in a school in Ghana or lying on a beach in Sri Lanka. She spends her evenings reading travel books, watching travel movies or following travel bloggers on Twitter. She might appear to be independent and solitarily happy but, in reality, she would really like that perfect companion to be able to enjoy all of these things with.</div>
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She is inquisitive, curious, and intelligent; after all travel is the best form of education. She can talk for hours about her travel tales and with her passion and enthusiasm, you will never get bored. She is open minded, flexible and adaptable; if she can pee in a squat toilet in Vietnam or stay in a hostel with dozens of unwashed backpackers in New Zealand, tolerating your untidy bedroom is a piece of cake.</div>
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She has watched the sunrise over Angkor Wat, watched elephants in the wild in Kenya and dipped her feet into the top of Niagara Falls. A girl that travels knows how to appreciate the beauty in this world. She never loses site of the good things in life. She will be ever appreciative of those little notes you leave her when you go to work or the ‘I’m thinking of you’ texts you send her with nothing but a kiss.</div>
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A girl that travels never gets bored, in fact quite the opposite-there are not enough hours in the day! She recognises every opportunity for fun, excitement and adventure! Keen to experience new and unusual things, whether home or abroad, she wants to take you along with her. From skydives, to mountain trekking to volunteering to build houses in Ethiopia, her sense of adventure is limitless and you will never get bored with her!</div>
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She doesn’t want expensive gifts. She doesn’t want three wardrobes and dozens of pairs of shoes. She is not materialistic. There is no need to spend lots of money on a girl that travels, rather buy her some incense sticks to remind her of the smells of Bali or some Milo hot chocolate to bring back the tastes of Australia. Or better still, take a nice picture of you and her travelling and frame it, she will appreciate that so much more than a new necklace.</div>
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She can look good, beautiful even, and on occasion she will dress up for you. But she is most comfortable in her vest top and shorts, hair tied back and freckles prominently sitting across her nose. Her hair is bleached from the sun and skin tanned and freckly. She sports numerous tatty looking bracelets around her ankles and wrists that she has collected from across the world. She is a traveller and she is beautiful.</div>
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She is happy and enthusiastic, loving and giving. She may be away a lot, but she will never forget you. You might not hear from her in days, but she writes about how she misses you in her diary, she tells the backpackers in her room all about how wonderful you are, she thinks of you before she goes to sleep. She will try her best to get to a place with wifi, so that she can send you that whatsapp message or call you on Skype. She misses you.</div>
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She won’t mind if you’re running late for a date, because she realises that sometimes the journey is more important than the destination. Heck, after travelling in India, she knows that ‘tomorrow’ is a perfectly fine time to get things done. Life is no rush, it’s often the slower, simpler pace of life that is more enjoyable, she won’t rush you, so don’t rush her.</div>
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So is she worth it? She most definitely is! She might seem a challenge to pin down, or to arrange a date with, but if she likes you, she will pull out all the stops to make sure it happens. A girl that travels has seen so many places and met so many people, so if she likes you, you should grab the opportunity with both hands! She has dated the romantic Parisian, the fun-loving Australian and the sensual Brazilian, so if she has chosen you, there must be something special there! Don’t let your insecurities or jealousies get in the way, if she likes you, she will always come home to you and, for once, she might even look forward to coming home too.</div>
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Travelling is a journey of self discovery; often learning as much about yourself as you do about the destinations you are visiting. She loves to travel, but if you play your cards right, she just might love you that little bit more. And perhaps that next romantic Goan sunset can be admired by you both… Date a girl that travels and your life will never be the same again.</div>
<br />
<a href="http://lifeasabutterfly.com/date-a-girl-that-travels/">http://lifeasabutterfly.com/date-a-girl-that-travels/</a><br />
<br />
A different but another amazing post about the same topic: <a href="http://stephabroad.com/date-girl-travels/">http://stephabroad.com/date-girl-travels/</a><br />
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Terrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14924882563451209194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4316705325697846954.post-42617756410739035182012-05-20T07:03:00.001-07:002012-05-20T07:03:15.395-07:00New Adventures with All Hands<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HAN-k-pAUao/T7j38S63DlI/AAAAAAAACrU/SgA9-UzFdXE/s1600/bbq.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HAN-k-pAUao/T7j38S63DlI/AAAAAAAACrU/SgA9-UzFdXE/s200/bbq.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">I have been working with All Hands Volunteers
since the last week of January, when I met my awesome coworkers; my amazing yet
quirky boss Andrew, my groovy development soul sister Kat, the tech genius who
does not use any social media site J. Hatter, beer loving guru of disaster
recovery J. Horan, communications extraordinaire and wizard of life Aaron, finical
master with a huge heart Dominique, and the man who brought us all together
with his will to make the world better David. </span><br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KlOl128Uah4/T7j39-jqEpI/AAAAAAAACrY/XKBGMdT8bdk/s1600/double+rainbow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KlOl128Uah4/T7j39-jqEpI/AAAAAAAACrY/XKBGMdT8bdk/s200/double+rainbow.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">I arrived in New Orleans, proudly wearing my
Project Tohoku t-shirt not knowing what to expect. As I sat in the backseat chatting with my new
co-workers I was quickly put at ease when they called me out after in the
middle of sentence, pausing then saying shoot instead of shit. They laughed, and said did you really just
pause and not curse. You know working at
All Hands is just like being on project, we are a bit rough around the edges,
can handle communal living, and working hard if it means empowering volunteers
to help communities following a natural disaster. From that moment on I knew my job would be
like none other I ever neither had nor could imagine ever having. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">Three months flew by and I received the word I
would going to Cagayan de Oro, Philippines the "City of Golden
Friendship"<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>for my first
international project. I was excited and nervous, I would be now be
on the staff side and not the volunteer side, plus I would be meeting coworkers
I had only emailed for the first time. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">When I
walked out of the tiny airport I was flagged with requests to be my taxi
driver, I nodded to one and was relieved he knew exactly where my home for the
next three weeks was and sat back in the comfort of air condition which I would
now only feel when I went to into town.
I had arrived at 5am so the house we still quiet, I put my things down
and curled up on the couch until people started stirring. The first hello was from Mike, as he walked
from his room to the bathroom in his boxers, next was Loc a familiar face from
Japan, a few new people, and then I felt something land in my lap it was
Toby-san my frienemy from Japan as well.
<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">It was familiar
yet completely new, bunk beds but only 15 of them instead of 40, bucket showers
but this time cold instead of hot, breakfast, lunch and dinner but no dishes, a
free box and a laundry box since we paid someone to do our washing. It felt good to be adult summer camp
again. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5q3K97r-T9M/T7j4ApqjR5I/AAAAAAAACrs/pwtB4wjKvQg/s1600/septic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5q3K97r-T9M/T7j4ApqjR5I/AAAAAAAACrs/pwtB4wjKvQg/s200/septic.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bjPA8vgOHYo/T7j3_tbONWI/AAAAAAAACrk/hFyGY0y-t2s/s1600/isla.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="131" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bjPA8vgOHYo/T7j3_tbONWI/AAAAAAAACrk/hFyGY0y-t2s/s200/isla.jpg" width="200" /></a><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">My first
day in the field, was a half day and so was my second, and boy was body
thankful for it. 90 degree heat and not
much shade you are dripping in sweat in a matter of moments even before you
start working. I felt inspired and
amazed at the fact that my job was helping volunteers to donate their time,
blood, sweat, labor to help people who lost so much. I joined their sides painting and framing the
lid for a septic tank. Little did I know
that my first full day in the field would be “helping” to dig one? They are about 6 feet tall and about 6 feet
wide, and I probably dug and cleared only about ½ a foot of dirt, because I had
to do more watching then acting since I felt like I was going to die. People were to kind and kept saying I would
do better because it was my first full day, I was and still am not to certain
because I have yet to work another full day. I am going to try to do at least
one and do half days for the rest of this whole week, so I can say I did more
than make friends and work on my computer all day even though that is what my job
description requires me to do. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">I will
let you know how it goes and other interesting things about my trip soon. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
</div>Terrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14924882563451209194noreply@blogger.com0Cagayan de Oro, Philippines8.4542363 124.63189778.2029393 124.3160407 8.705533299999999 124.94775469999999tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4316705325697846954.post-46306876139965254002012-02-03T16:08:00.000-08:002012-02-04T09:10:47.890-08:00Back in the States and Employed!!!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; mso-outline-level: 3;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Kon'nichiwa, <span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial;">Namaste</span>, <span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial;">Tashi Delek</span>, Sawadee-kah, Khmai, <span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial;">Apa Khabar</span>, and finally a big hello since I’m back in the States!<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; mso-outline-level: 3;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; mso-outline-level: 3;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial;">Yes, I am back in the states sooner than planned, and wanted to say hello in all the new languages I learned (I only learned hello and thank you </span><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial;">J</span><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial;">). I also wanted to take this </span>this opportunity to inform you of positive changes in my life now that I am back “home”. As of January 28, 2012, I embarked on the next phase of my “helping the world” career as a development associate for All Hands Volunteers. All Hands is the amazing organization I did tsunami relief with in Ofunato, Japan. It was one of the most inspirational and amazing times of my life. I loved it so much that extended my time there until the end of project; I probably would still be there if winter and lack funding did not push us out. I dug ditches in the blistering sun, gutted houses in pouring rain, hand cleaned photos in freezing water in a freezing room, and had the best time ever because I was alongside 100 of people, like me, who just wanted to help where they could. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="Body1"><br />
</div><div class="Body1"><span style="font-family: inherit;">So, now I am working for them because of what they do best, giving anyone and I mean anyone …grandmas, drop-outs, Peter-pans… a place to go when they want to help. Plus, they pay for volunteers room, 60 bunks beds in one room, board, an old electronics shop, and food, Bento boxes, so they can focus on working as hard as possible, 6 days of week regardless of weather, when they are on project<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="Body1"><br />
</div><div class="Body1"><span style="font-family: inherit;">All Hands also allows those that cannot be on project, because of other life commitments, babies, new houses, 50 hour work weeks, away to help. These people make donations, have fundraisers, spread the word from the comfort of home and hot water. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="Body1"><br />
</div><div class="Body1"><span style="font-family: inherit;">A volunteer funded by donors creates one of <span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial;">the most passionate workforces, the world has ever seen.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="Body1"><br />
</div><div class="Body1"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial;">It is my duty as a volunteer and even more so now as employee to continue </span>thought. So, I donated $100 in addition to all the sweat equity I put in, and am now asking you to donate what you deem significant. This maybe a dollar maybe $1,000 it does not matter, what matter is that you believe in me and empowering volunteers to work their asses off. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="Body1"><br />
</div><div class="Body1"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I thank you for all the time and attention you have provided me over the past year and during this long post. I look forward to updating you on my new job and how much money I have raised. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="Body1"><br />
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</span></span></div></div>Terrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14924882563451209194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4316705325697846954.post-84756699554815564842012-01-24T23:12:00.000-08:002012-01-24T23:12:40.459-08:00Big Winners in Malaysia<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mDkJakrTZGc/Tx-omLf1bCI/AAAAAAAACe0/ru6wfNFTg0E/s1600/RLIR-2012-POSTER.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mDkJakrTZGc/Tx-omLf1bCI/AAAAAAAACe0/ru6wfNFTg0E/s200/RLIR-2012-POSTER.png" width="163" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">In 2002 the Royal Langkawi Regatta was formed, now ten years latter this regatta kicks off the Asian calendar by providing competitive and enjoyable racing for all crews, irrespective of the design or vintage of their yacht. This year thirty six boats from all over the world were divided into five classes, and I was lucky enough to be on IRC 2’s defending champion Niels Degenkolw's IOR 3/4 Ton X yacht Phoenix. Joining Captain Niels (Nederland) and me on this magnificent boat was Niels’ wife Tim (Thailand), her brother Toon (Thailand), Kevin Ashby (South Africa), Liz Schoak (Australia), Mark Minzer (Australia). </span><br />
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</span></i></span></div><div class="Body3"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The first race day an overcast morning with about 8 Knots of wind greeted us as we headed out on the waters of Bass Harbor. As we learned our individual jobs and the synergy of working together we held steady and took 2<sup>nd</sup> place in our class behind Stuart Williamson's Beneteau 34.7 Skandia Endeavour of Whitby. That night we enjoyed the kick off dinner, traditional Malaysian dancers and fire breathers, and getting to know each other off the water. <i><o:p></o:p></i></span></div><div class="Body3"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></i></div><div class="Body3"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7YDZDbZq_GA/Tx-opEGu36I/AAAAAAAACfM/R0paf-HhUKs/s1600/RLR+Phoneix+5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i><img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7YDZDbZq_GA/Tx-opEGu36I/AAAAAAAACfM/R0paf-HhUKs/s200/RLR+Phoneix+5.jpg" width="164" /></i></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">For the second day of racing the skies were clear; winds were approximately 9 knots and staying steady as we left are berth super early to make the 5 mile passage outside the group of islands that form Bass Harbor to police boat that marks each start and finish. We were greeted with 10 to 12 knots of wind but the winded faded around the third buoy and the way race was shortened for our class, but we fought hard and claimed first place. As we sailed back to port, we all enjoyed our celebration Cokes, which Niels promised to me after each first place finish.<span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><i><o:p></o:p></i></span></div><div class="Body3"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></i></span></div><div class="Body3"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The middle of the week brought a traditional Royal Langkawi Regatta race tradition the around the island race. Sadly, Skandia Endeavour of Whitby returned to form by taking out the daily double and regained top spot on the IRC 2 point score. Whereas we missed out on the favorable gust in the Dayang Bunting Strait that left us trailing a few minutes behind and down in second place.<i><o:p></o:p></i></span></div><div class="Body3"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></i></div><div class="Body3"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zHe_2sRaQc0/Tx-ooR_OKiI/AAAAAAAACfE/0Li6uNuI_nQ/s1600/RLR+Phoneix+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i><img border="0" height="131" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zHe_2sRaQc0/Tx-ooR_OKiI/AAAAAAAACfE/0Li6uNuI_nQ/s200/RLR+Phoneix+2.jpg" width="200" /></i></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Still the beautiful environment with eagles soaring overhead could not dampen our spirits. We were keen on improving our standings even if there was heavy overcast sky and drizzling rain as we started day four. The first race we were perfect and smoothly sailed into 1<sup>st</sup> place. The second race of the day we were not so lucky and were recalled for being over the start line as the horn sounded, but we quickly made amends and won again. This coupled with second and fifth finishes by Skandia Endeavour of Whitby allowed us to take back the overall lead in our class. With such a great day of racing I was ready to dance, and that night after the awards dinner Liz and I joined a few hot shot team members of <span class="apple-style-span">Marcus Blackmore's chartered TP52</span><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>Hooligan for a night out on the town. <i><o:p></o:p></i></span></div><div class="Body3"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></i></div><div class="Body3"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zlJkm6cMARI/Tx-onMtqNoI/AAAAAAAACe8/lM_0OyarfTM/s1600/RLR+Awards.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zlJkm6cMARI/Tx-onMtqNoI/AAAAAAAACe8/lM_0OyarfTM/s200/RLR+Awards.jpg" width="133" /></i></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">A bright sunshine and blue sky bought color back into the scenery greeted us on day five, but we could not be cocky because the pressure was still on with us only be 1 point over Skandia Endeavour Of Whitby for overall class winner. All week our boat chased Skandia Endeavour of Whity around the course because of our handicap and had to wait until reach shore to find out our standings. This time we clocked there finished and silently prayed as the wind slowly took us toward the finish line. It seriously came down to the wire as we counted down the seconds. With two seconds to spare we crossed the finish line with a loud cry of victory, Niels Degenkolw's crew on Phoenix had managed to defend his five time IRC 2 title. <span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 130%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="Body3"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">On the momentous sail back in we merrily drank our Cokes and sang "We Are the Champions." </span></div><div class="Body3"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="Body3"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">To top it off that night, Kevin and Neil's bought the crew champagne with the cork happily soaring into the night followed by fireworks, all of us happily going on stage to accept our rewards, and hanging out with Estonia Pro Basketball player and hottie Denno Drell. </span></div><div class="Body3"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i><br />
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</span></div></div>Terrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14924882563451209194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4316705325697846954.post-60001524260942628322011-12-28T03:31:00.001-08:002011-12-28T03:31:12.560-08:00Divers Only<br />When searching for the best dives of the coast of Bali, Tulamben kept showing up at the top of the list. Tulamben is a small coast where you will only find dive hotels, one or two shops, a couple of restaurants, and the closest ATM is 30 minute drive away. The only people are divers, snorkelers, there few friends afraid of the water, and the locals who work there. This is not you typical tourist area, and thankfully neither are the prices. I stayed in a dorm for 100,000 rupees about $11 a night, a dive only costed 250,000 rupees $30 and since it was the rainy season and not many people, I had my own private dive instructor for each of my dives. <br />My first dive has a history which started in 1942 , when the U.S.S. Liberty was struck by a torpedo from a Japanese submarine. Two US destroyers attempted to accompany the damaged boat to a port in Singaraja, Bali, but when it became clear that the boat was taking on too much water, it was intentionally grounded on the shores of tiny Tulamben where the military was able to salvage the cargo. The ship sat grounded for 21 years until neighboring Mt. Agung erupted in 1963, which pushed the boat into deeper water just offshore creating one of the world’s most rewarding wreck shore dives for me to explore. <br /><br />As soon as you submerge the Liberty is waiting for you, a dark looming site until you are closest enough to see it come alive. The hull of the wreck was a tasty feast for my eyes, decorated with hard and soft corals as well as some stunningly colored feather stars and neon sponges. The site is also teeming with large schools of fish including the bumphead parrotfish, oriental sweetlips, a massive school (500+) of swirling jacks so close you could touch. Amongst the the few items of the ship that one still can make out such as ladders, holes for windows, and large deck gun, I saw Surgeon fish, giant trevallies, batfish, insanely huge grouper, Napoleon wrasse and a pregnant porcupine fish. After my instructor saw my diving abilities she took me on the coolest part of the dive the fun swim-throughs, where we entered the stern of the boat swam vertical turned up toward the sun and enjoyed looking through the port holes. My swimming was not pretty or controlled as my instructor but I made it without doing any damage to me or the boat. <br />Even after my first wreck dive, I still prefer dives where bright colors are the main features and the next day that is what I got when I dived "Coral Garden" with my instructor Ben from France. After making it down the dirt path with all our gear on, we arrived to the black stone beach were I was thankful to have booties on to navigate. Then we waded into the water where I enflated my BC and put on my flippers. As soon as I rolled over and put my mask in the water I saw the beginnings of a delightfully rich little patch reef, dominated by hard coral, including some large table and fire corals, interspersed with anemones and sponges. <br /><br />Prior to the dive Ben said we might see some sharks depending on the visibility, so I was thrilled when he pointed to a blur object and did the hand signal for shark. He then had me sit with him on the bottom of the ocean floor and wait. Soon he nudged me and pointed to my right about 10 feet away were the two black tip reef sharks swimming side by side another about 12 feet behind, we sat there and silently watched while they swam circles around us. It was quite peaceful until I noticed the barracuda the length of my leg deadly still with it' jagged teeth. For some reason they freak me out, not enough to surface but enough to put some distance between us. The other under water creatures that creep me out are moray eels with there long slithering bodies, cloudy beady eyes, and lazy months. Thankfully since they cannot see real well they mostly just barely stick their head out from behind a rock and snap there mouth shut when is something close, this meant if I kept enough distance, a foot or so, I could examine these weird creatures and not be bothered. During this dive I did find there is one kind of these creatures that I found that I actually enjoy and is a rarity, blue ribbon eels. There named describe theme to a t except the fact that the ribbon of there blue body has an edge of yellow. <br /><br />As we followed the sandy slope down and I practiced swimming with out my arms in order to save energy and air Ben showed me the home of a spiny lobster and peacock mantis shrimp, three giant rock fish camouflaged on the bottom between two hard coral bushes, and bright blue sea cucumber. In addition to the thousands of common reef fish including blue striped snappers, angelfish, wrasse, parrotfish, and a couple two spot lionfish. When our dive was finished and we reached the surface Ben and my smile said it all. His even more so because even after hundreds of dives he was still excited by what we saw.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><p class='blogpress_location'>Location:<a href='http://maps.google.com/maps?q=Tulamben,%20Bali,%20Indonesia&z=10'>Tulamben, Bali, Indonesia</a></p>Terrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14924882563451209194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4316705325697846954.post-535287161368989772011-12-24T21:50:00.001-08:002011-12-24T21:50:56.206-08:00Homesick for ChristmasFive years ago an almost nonexistent Christmas would have been the ideal Christmas. At the time I was half Grinch. I could deal with the decorations, the lights, the trees, the music, but my family and the presents drove me bonkers. What to buy, how much to spend, how to send it home? And then thinking what is the point because 9 times out of 1o we were exchanging gift cards, people were getting mad because they didn't get what they want or they got some crap that we only be rewrapped next year for some unfortunate soul. Then one Christmas it all changed, I found my heart growing three sizes. My family was fun to be around and buying presents online while drinking baileys and hot chocolate with Christmas movies in the background was a new tradition that I could enjoy. <br /><br />Still, this year I made the decision to be away from home for my 1st Christmas ever. I knew it would be hard, but years worth of dreams made it worth the sacrifice, and Asia bless her made it a lot easier until today. <br /><br />The majority of Asian countries are Hindu and Buddhist, so Christmas spirit it only a whisper. An occasional sign for a Christmas buffet dinner, a single strand of lights on my neighbors porch and no where else, a Christmas tune or two played at the local mall to hopefully get us "farangs" to buy more, but other than that it was nonexistent until I turned on my computer. The Facebook status updates started to slowly mention people holiday plans, the baking of holiday treats, and the anticipation of being home. Finally, The reality of missing all the traditions set it. I would miss finger painting cutout cookies with my cousins and their kids, building a snowman with my Aunt Tera, Big Night on Ice, the ghetto Precious Moments, the handmade stocking with my name stitched on it from my childhood being filled to the brim, the trading of sexy underwear with my Aunt Ginger, exchanging gifts with the San Diego girls, and so much more. <br /><br />Today and tomorrow I will miss my home more than any other time on my trip, but I now know what I'm missing and will try my best to plan better so I never have to experience it again. However, this Christmas i will never forget with 75 degree weather in Phuket, enjoying Christmas breakfast with the neighbors with tropical fruit sangria and building a sand snowman on the crystal blue beach. <br />Merry Christmas!<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><p class='blogpress_location'>Location:<a href='http://maps.google.com/maps?q=Mueang%20Phuket,Thailand%407.782294%2C98.314263&z=10'>Mueang Phuket,Thailand</a></p>Terrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14924882563451209194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4316705325697846954.post-39111567622010673332011-12-20T00:54:00.001-08:002011-12-20T00:54:36.182-08:00Monkey Mayhem in Bali<br /><br /><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/12/20/88.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/12/20/s_88.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' align='left' style='margin:5px'></a><br />About a 15 minute walk from my home stay in the center of Ubud is the Sacred Monkey Forest of Padangtegal, where over 340 hundred Balinese long tailed macaques monkeying call home. According to the brochure, there are approximately 32 adult males, 19 male sub adult, 77 adult females, 122 juvenile and 54 infants that inhabit that belong to 4 distinct troops. Before you even pay the Rp. 20.000 or US$2 to enter the forest there are monkeys waiting for you, 20 plus statues line the street and depending what time of day it is there maybe macaques wandering around gorging themselves.<br /><br /><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/12/20/89.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/12/20/s_89.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' align='left' style='margin:5px'></a><br /> I thought with the 1,ooo's of visitors feeding them every day they would never go outside there forest to scavenge, but one late night on my walk past the forest at least 5 monkeys were gorging them on the leftover street food, maybe they are greedy or just want something different then there usual fair. Seeing this I could only imagine the antics I would see when I actually entered the depths of some of the lushest green forests that Bali is famous for. <br /><br /><br /><br /><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/12/20/90.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/12/20/s_90.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' align='left' style='margin:5px'></a><br />The first monkey that greeted me kindly showed me where the toilet was, but I declined and wandered further in. Everywhere you looked there were macaques, who all seemed well accustomed to humans. <br /><br /><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/12/20/91.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/12/20/s_91.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' align='left' style='margin:5px'></a><br />Some even climbed up and sat on peoples shoulder in return for a treat or to clean their hair like one of their own. I personally had no monkeys using me as a jungle gym because I didn't want to spend money on overpriced bananas or finding out if I was allergic or when there was no one patient enough there to take of picture of it just in case I was. I'll save the possible rash until next time. <br /><br /><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/12/20/92.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/12/20/s_92.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' align='left' style='margin:5px'></a><br />On the other hand I did have one feisty macaque grab on to my bright red WiLDCOAST water bottle and try to tear it lose, but never fear my carabinieri held tight until the little rascal got sick of dancing in circles with me. I was one of the fortunate souls that did not lose anything that day, I did watch one mischievous macaque take off with one tourist Ray Band sunglasses, and another a bottle of water which the little guy quickly unscrewed the cap and drank to all of our amazement. <br /><br /><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/12/20/93.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/12/20/s_93.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' align='left' style='margin:5px'></a><br />When not watching and photographing these crazy creatures I was enjoying the beautiful ancient tombs, sculptures, temples interspersed between trails and the all consuming greenery. Mandala Wisata Wenara Wana as the locals call the Sacred Monkey Forest Sanctuary is a wonderful place, I only wish the next time I go one of my best friends, Sara Martinez, is there with me to tell me more about the monkeys and take my picture with them just not around me.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/12/20/94.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/12/20/s_94.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' align='left' style='margin:5px'></a><br /><br /><p class='blogpress_location'>Location:<a href='http://maps.google.com/maps?q=Ubud,%20Bali,%20Indonesia%20&z=10'>Ubud, Bali, Indonesia </a></p>Terrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14924882563451209194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4316705325697846954.post-50228968055222282092011-12-13T08:44:00.001-08:002011-12-13T08:44:39.410-08:00Sailing Into Paradise in Phuket<br /><br /><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/12/13/1210.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/12/13/s_1210.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' align='left' style='margin:5px'></a><br />From December 6th through December 10th I felt like I was the luckiest sailor in the world, I was apart of the 25th Anniversary Phuket King's Cup Regatta, which is touted to be the premier sailing event of the Eastern Hemisphere. <br /><br />It all started in 1991, when Jenny Dahms and I signed up for resident camp, where we would be learning sailing because my body couldn't handle the other options Girlscout Camp had to offer. I had to use a nebulizer, breathing machine, three times a day for I had really bad asthma induced by allergies. Thankfully, Jenny was patient and kind enough to be with that kid at camp. This was my first introduction to sailing and when I fell in love. Until we were "too old" for camp, Jenny and I would return year after year to have our week on the water. <br /><br /><br /><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/12/13/1211.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/12/13/s_1211.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' align='left' style='margin:5px'></a><br />Sadly, it would be 13 years until I would return to the sailing world in San Diego, California and meet Captian Mike Rafferty, a local middle school science teacher who taught sailing on the weekends for community college where my roommate Sara was taking classes. She told our other roommate, Jill, and I about her colleges hidden treasure, three months of Sunday sailing for only $30! It was such a steal that Jill and I quickly signed up and became some of Mike's favorite students, even though I stunk and still do at the terminology. My favorite classes were when I could take out a Laser (dinghy) by myself. I wouldn't have any one shouting at me words I couldn't remember and had the freedom to go as fast as I want, since the lean and tipping the boat scares a lot of people. Where as I love speed to much and therefore, I tipped the boat almost every other class but half of the fun was flipping it back over and pulling myself in the boat. Mike didn't seem to care because I never asked for help or wrecked a boat. I loved the wind, water, and the trill of it all. <br /><br />Those days had to come to end, when Mike decided to retire and sail across the Pacific. He asked a few other students to join him for the first leg, which was the Baja Ha-Ha cruisers rally from San Diego to Cabo San Lucas, Mexico. The timing sucked for me because I had final projects due in my master's program and Big Brothers Big Sisters Golf Marathon fundraiser, I needed to be ready for the next week. When Mike sailed into the sunset I never knew if I would see him again or not, but before left he made a huge mistake and told me I was always welcome on his boat. <br /><br /><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/12/13/1212.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/12/13/s_1212.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' align='left' style='margin:5px'></a><br />In 2011, I called in that offer, but different circumstances awaited me. Mike had lost his boat and home of 15 years off the coast of Australia and was now living on land in Phuket, Thailand. I could not stay on his boat with him since it now longer existed, but I could stay with him in Nai Harn and he would try a place for me to crew in the annual King's Cup Regatta. The first few days of the regatta, I only watched while Mike helped crew his friends, Bill's boat. Mike told the other crew members about me, and slowly they worked on Bill to let me join them. The final push was paying 1000 baht ($30, but includes food and drinks) for an after race party where the crew would ask him again in front of him. I was nervous because, I hadn't been on a sailboat in over 2 year, never had crewed this size boat and yet alone in a race, but with Mikes confidence in me I could't pass up this amazing opportunity. <br /><br /><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/12/13/1213.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/12/13/s_1213.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' align='left' style='margin:5px'></a><br />The next day, I woke up 6:30 poped some Dramamine in my mouth, just in case, and got myself stoked. As soon as I saw all the other crews lining up for the long tails to take them to their boat, I knew I was in for something good. The first day it wasn't as good as I hoped it would have been since we started on the wrong course and ended up in 4th. I did learn a lot, and Nick, our captain for the race, gave me his ticket to the party that night since he couldn't make it. My 2nd race day was 10 times better. I had the special job of sitting blow deck until the race course numbers were called out, so we didn't mess up again. Then I had to help count down the start time, and we were the first out of the gate beating out our fiercest competition Odin and Linda. They passed us, and then the wind died. Inside I secretly worried about not doing so well again, however the rest of the crew appeared calm. As the race came to a close they explained to me why, out boat was handicapped 10 minutes for every hour compared to Linda and Odin, which would be reflected on the posted race time. I now understood that pretty much no matter what we did Odin and Linda would always cross the finish line first, however it didn't guarantee that they had beaten us. In fact that day we came in 1st in our class and I got to drive Astraeus into the bay. The next day was even more exciting; it was the last day of the regatta and all the boats would be on the same course. This is not ideal conditions since you have a ton more boats to watch out for, but more me it also meant I could watch them all day. The wind was great and we averaged five knots. Sadly it didn't matter since the wind was flat where we started, a few bad tacks, a stuck halyard, and a Spinnaker that got away from us. We took 4th. I didn't really care, I had a great day and was hooked.<br /><br /><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/12/13/1214.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/12/13/s_1214.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' align='left' style='margin:5px'></a><br />The real icing on the cake came at the closing party, when we learned we took 2nd overall in the cruising class!<br /><br /><i>Special thanks to William Sax the skipper of Astraeus for letting me crew a regatta for the first but not the last time, Captain Nick for being so patient with me and answering all my questions in his beautiful South African accent, Rita and Steven Johnson for being so warm, welcoming and down right wonderful to me, and most importantly a huge thanks to Michael Rafferty sailing instructor and friend for making one of my dreams come true in such a large way.</i><br /><p class='blogpress_location'>Location:<a href='http://maps.google.com/maps?q=Kata%20Beach,%20Phuket,%20Thailand%40-8.690786%2C115.262193&z=10'>Kata Beach, Phuket, Thailand</a></p>Terrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14924882563451209194noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4316705325697846954.post-48990091958993494032011-12-04T01:09:00.000-08:002011-12-04T01:09:24.005-08:00A Part of Their World - Diving in Phuket<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NMELIRszRBk/Tts1webPXyI/AAAAAAAACeE/ADdI6e1zwlk/s1600/P1010043.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NMELIRszRBk/Tts1webPXyI/AAAAAAAACeE/ADdI6e1zwlk/s200/P1010043.JPG" width="200" /></a><span style="font-size: small;">I became SCUBA certified on July 25, 2010, my 29<sup>th</sup> birthday, with one of my best friends Sara.<span> </span>It was something that both of us had wanted to do, but never took the next step, well until Sara had to be certified to move up the ladder at SeaWorld.<span> </span>We both finally we both had the push we needed, for Sara her job and for me, Sara.<span> </span>Our first ocean dive was off the coast of San Diego at La Jolla Shores.<span> </span>We wore six inch wetsuits with hoods and booties that made us look and walk like penguins on land, but we once we hit the cold water a whole new world opened for us.<span> </span>It was here that I learned that sand dollars are actually purple when they are alive, they also are huge underwater fields of them that I tried hard to crush with my hands as I was learn to control my buoyancy with my breath. <span> </span>Sadly, it took me a year and half to strap on tank and jump back in.<span> </span></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> </span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> </span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">This time, I was still diving with three San Diegians, Erin and Juan Lau, and Captain Mike Rafferty, but we were wearing only half wet suits and diving two hours off the coast of Phuket, Thailand.<span> </span>As I readied my gear, I became nervous but thankfully a new friend on the boat told me not to worry, for it was like riding a bike and it would all come back to me.<span> </span></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> </span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> </span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--qCcqligjoM/Tts18vQxdQI/AAAAAAAACeM/xzepimPsk0Q/s1600/P1010003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--qCcqligjoM/Tts18vQxdQI/AAAAAAAACeM/xzepimPsk0Q/s200/P1010003.jpg" width="149" /></a><span style="font-size: small;">Our first dive was Dok Bida Nay, a three star dive site south of Dok Phi Phi Ley.<span> </span>I jumped in and silently descended 2 meters, 7 meters, 10 meters my ears screaming in pain.<span> </span>I tried to release the pressure by holding my nose and pushing air up to my air canals, it would work but the pressure would come again, and again, again.<span> </span>I kept thinking was it worth it, then a few minutes later I saw what I had only seen on video.<span> </span>My head cleared, my breathing became normal, and my ears finally quieted.<span> </span>I was floating/swimming in paradise.<span> </span>There was a large reef to my right and beneath me, in every nook and cranny were soft corals, gorgonian sea fans, black corals, long stringy sea whips, huge gardens of stag horn, star corals, sea cucumbers and incredible number of reef animals. There were varying sizes and species of colorful Parrotfish and Wrasse, along with large shoals of Moorish Idols, and my favorite starfish.<span> </span>The starfish seemed to be every color of the rainbow blue, yellow, pink, with 4 arms, 5 arms, 6 arms, and every where.<span> </span>We also saw my not so favorite ocean creatures a black and white banded sea snake who has more poison than a cobra and with one bite can kill you in 5 seconds, and an ugly moray (eel) sticking its gray green head out of cave, who I have had a such a strong dislike for since I saw Little Mermaid when I was nine.<span> </span></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> </span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> </span></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3KoP8GJOPjE/Tts2InR3BNI/AAAAAAAACeU/GQCQ1VrVPJE/s1600/P1010056.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="140" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3KoP8GJOPjE/Tts2InR3BNI/AAAAAAAACeU/GQCQ1VrVPJE/s200/P1010056.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The second dive site, Dok Bida Nok, showed me another side of the Little Mermaid when our dive master Fumiko led us into an underwater sea cave.<span> </span>We swam in guided by her tiny flashlight with only a foot of visibility, I did not know what to expect. Then she motioned for me to look up, when I did sunlight streamed down through a small opening and sparkled off through the layers of water on the way down to me.<span> </span>I smiled, twirled the best I could and sang “Apart of Their World” to myself, but as I did I thought of the opposite, instead of walking on earth I was thinking of how amazing it was to be swimming in the ocean surrounded by all manner of marine life frolicking among the soft corals and sponges.<span> </span>We sighted delightful butterfly fish, pipefish, trumpet fish, puffer fish and lionfish.<br />
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Our last dive was the reef next to the imposing limestone structure known as Koh Dok Mai, Flower Island in the native tongue.<span> </span>Where its steep cliffs extend well below the surface to the sand.<span> </span>It was an ideal drift dive and a great time to practice not using my arms to navigate.<span> </span>A true diver lightly grasps their hands together and occasionally uses their flippers to navigate.<span> </span>When my mind and eyes drifted to the nearby array of colorful tube corals, and to the multitude of cracks and crevices along the wall where I saw durban dancing shrimps, cleaner shrimps, plus many species of grouper including the blue lined, coral and marbled.<span> </span>The best spotting being a small shark hidden in a fist sized hole in the wall.<span> </span></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> </span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-iMkIEgiWZCY/Tts2jY7eqNI/AAAAAAAACec/UVfvA5j4778/s1600/P1010001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-iMkIEgiWZCY/Tts2jY7eqNI/AAAAAAAACec/UVfvA5j4778/s200/P1010001.JPG" width="200" /></a><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> </span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">All in all it was a great day, and I can only hope I will be “Apart of Their World” for not too much money again, soon! </span></div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> </span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> </span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> </span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>In case you ever find yourself in Phuket we used <a href="http://all4diving.com/">All4Diving.com</a> by Sea World Dive Team and it cost us 3,800 baht. It included all our equipment, breakfast, lunch, transportation, and the three dives I described above.<span> </span>There were five of us to one dive master.<span> </span></i></span></div></div>Terrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14924882563451209194noreply@blogger.com0Phuket, Thailand7.9843109 98.3307468000000437.7509394 98.228839800000046 8.2176824 98.43265380000004tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4316705325697846954.post-28623040502943034642011-12-01T06:40:00.001-08:002011-12-01T06:40:25.693-08:00Armchair Journey Review - On the Road by Jack Kerouac<br /><br /><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/12/01/944.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/12/01/s_944.jpg' border='0' width='184' height='281' align='left' style='margin:5px'></a><br />Jack Kerouac is the "beat generation's" story teller and is my kind of writer because he writes as he speaks instead of following the "rules". He has written many books, articles, etc including "On the Road". It is a novel that makes me want to go out there, seize the day, and let the road take me by the hand, well without the drugs. <br /><br />Kerouac tells introduces the reader to Sal Paradise, one of his alter-egos, a young and seemingly innocent writer who is holed up in a room at his aunt's house, until he is inspired by Dean Moriarty (a character based on Kerouac's friend Neal Cassady) a crazy youth "tremendously excited with life" racing around America. From the moment their journeys begins I was is taken through the highs and lows of hitchhiking, bonding with fellow explorers, opting for beer before food, and exploring the rural wilderness, sleepy small towns, urban jungles, endless deserts- all linked by the road, the outlet for a generation's desire and inner need to get out. Kerouac made me feel their desperation and the lack of fulfillment which made them believe that "the only thing to do was go", in order to find their personal freedom in sex, drugs, and jazz.<br /><br />I am sad to know that this book is one of very few entries into the world of the beat generation, but it did put the dream of hitting the road into head and look where I am at now. <br /><br /><i>Highly Recommended. (I have read 3 times as of March 2011)</i><br />Terrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14924882563451209194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4316705325697846954.post-40609446949295930972011-12-01T06:16:00.001-08:002011-12-01T06:16:41.850-08:00Armchair Journeys an IntroductionMy dad always says getting asthma was one of the best things that ever happened to me. This may sound rude or mean to someone that does not know my family, but I full heartedly agree with him. Not being able to breathe well, led me to use a nebulizer (loud breathing machine) three times a day for two or three years; this sure didn't make me the cool kid at school or camp, but it got me reading! <br /><br />After my asthma became controlled and almost nonexistent I continued to read, and it has continued to shape my life. From libraries, to book stores, to my friends book shelves, under my mom's bed, and free books at guesthouses, I have found a source of new worlds and pleasures. But the best place to curl up with a good book will always be my parents old beat up armchair that I refuse to let them throw away and why i entitled this post "armchair journeys" and all subsequent posts where I review books for your knowledge and my own memory will also be called "Armchair Journeys."<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Terrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14924882563451209194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4316705325697846954.post-27903731013909222602011-11-21T06:45:00.001-08:002011-11-21T06:45:23.523-08:00The "Right" Way to Help<br />Personally I am very vulnerable to helping children, and in Cambodia there are plenty of chances to either help or hurt. By writing this I do not want anyone to become to paranoid about what they do while they travel, but instead think their decisions through, and when in doubt if you go in with only pure intentions no one has the right to judge. In the meantime, I would like to provide you with 7 Child Safe Traveler's tips from www.thinkchildsafe.org.<br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/11/21/909.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/11/21/s_909.jpg' border='0' width='300' height='221' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br />One way to help children while you travel is by using a social enterprise that is set up to help them. In Phnom Penh there are quite a few of them, and personally have been able to enjoy two of them. <br /><br />They are Friends the Restaurant and Romdeng, which are training restaurants run by former street youth and their teachers. Romdeng, (#74, Street 174) has been designed to promote Cambodian culture and food, while at Friends the Restaurant (#215, Street 13) students are trained in Asian and Western cooking. The focus of this training is building self-esteem, self-respect, very high standards of hygiene and of course, hospitality skills. All profits from the restaurants are reinvested into Mith Samlanh's projects for former street children and youth.<br /><br />The food was so good that I plan on buying the cookbook when I get back in the States since it won't fit in my backpack. The cookbook is called "From Spiders to Water Lilies. Creative Cambodian Cooking With Friends" and has won numerous awards including two award "Best Asian Cuisine Book” and made it into the top five in the category “Fund Raising and Charity Cookbook” at the Gourmand World Cookbook Awards in Paris. It features forty delicious renditions of creative new interpretations of classic Khmer food, as well as mouth watering salads, soups and curries, grilled and steamed dishes, and sensational desserts. The colorful names of the dishes alone hint at their intense flavor, and will have you salivate. Take, for example, the Banana Flower Salad with Grilled Cambodian Bacon, Limes, and Sweet Chili Sauce. Or the Fried River Fish with Lemongrass, Onions, and Baby Eggplant. The desserts are equally fantastic, and inspired by staples of Cambodian cuisine, such as rice, coconut milk, palm sugar, and fresh tropical fruit. Modern interpretations of traditional Asian ingredients result in light and creative dishes with complex flavors, as is illustrated by Pineapple and Chili in Coconut Jelly with Kaffir Lime Syrup. The cookbook also features an excellent overview of the most common ingredients found in Khmer cooking, as well as plenty of inspiring color photographs showcasing both the recipes and Friends-International’s hospitality staff and trainees at Romdeng in Phnom Penh. All proceeds from the book go towards the training program.<br /><br />For me one of the best ways to see and experience the world is by volunteering or voluntourism, which fortunately for me is a great way to help kids too. Over the course of my travels I have had some of the most amazing experiences, but have had to come face to face with the fact that what I am doing might not be the best thing for those I am trying to help. Sometimes it is the tourists or organizations lack of experience, and sadly there are number of people who see volunteers or tourists with an open heart as a way to make money.<br /><br />According to Friends-International there has been a 65% increase in the number of orphanages since 2005 despite the number of vulnerable children and orphans. <br /><br />This startlingly fact and other data I have read over the years, had me wary about different voluntourism opportunities. Thankfully I thought before volunteering with New Futures Orphanage in Takeo Town, Cambodia. First my friend, Monica did research on the Internet to see how it was ran, read other volunteers testimonials, and that there was more to do then simply play and take photos of the kids. NFO also emailed us the volunteer packet which includes their rules, regulations, and Children Interaction Policy and Procedures that were in place to keep the kids safe. The last thing Monica and I decided and agreed upon was that if we saw any red flags we would take off and warn others. Sadly, we have seen red flags, not the kind that justify leaving, but warrant us to do something about them or at least make suggestions. <br /><br />One way I will do this is by showing them the following document that seeks to assist travelers and volunteers in finding a way to contribute, yet avoid situations or actions that may lead to child exploitation. I hope when NFO sees a conflict between there current practices and the document they make a plan to resolve these issues.<br /><br />Before visiting or volunteering in an orphanage consider the following questions: <br /><br /><i> How do I harm children by visiting an orphanage?<br /><br />Many orphanages rely almost entirely on donations from visitors to survive. Thus directors may purposefully maintain poor living conditions for children to secure funds from tourists. Children who appear underserved may come across as a cry for help more than children who appear well fed and cared for. This of course places guilt on tourists if they do not help immediately. By visiting orphanages and making a donation you may be fueling a system that exploits children.<br /><br /><br /> In my own country would I consider visiting a shelter for children during the course of my day?<br /><br />Most people would never consider going to an orphanage, shelter or residential home in their own countries. Why? An orphanage is a child's home and they have the right to privacy in this space. Orphanages are not zoos and tourists should not be allowed to move through their home. In most developed countries this would be a clear violation of children's rights and there are laws to protect them from such exploitation. Children in developing countries are no different from those in the developed world. They should be afforded the same basic rights.<br /><br /><br /> Is my contribution sustainable?<br /><br />Investing in the future of Cambodian children is a valuable contribution. Investing in Cambodian families is also a valuable pursuit. Projects that aim towards strengthening community-based work provides the conditions under which alternative options may be offered to children and their families. A sustainable contribution should be aimed at breaking intergenerational cycles of poverty and exploitation.<br /><br />Orphanages do not offer a long-term sustainable response to the situation of vulnerable children. By investing in families and communities we are laying the foundation for better conditions for children.</i><br /><br /><br />Orphanages should be a last resort option for children in need. If children are to be placed temporarily in an orphanage, how can it ensure that it works in the best interest of the child? <br /><br />Here is a set of questions to help you evaluate the intentions of orphanages: <br /> <br /><i>Does the orphanage have a child protection policy?<br /><br />A lot of orphanages do not have child protection policies in place to ensure the safety and well-being of children in their care. Without a child protection policy, abuses of children may go undetected. It is important that orphanages can demonstrate that they have made attempts to safeguard children from dangers and vulnerabilities. In addition to this it is also important that children are aware of their own rights in the orphanage.<br /><br /><br /> Are visitors allowed to just drop in and have direct access to children without supervision?<br /><br />Allowing visitors to have direct contact with children can place children at risk especially when visitors are unsupervised. Good organizations have policies in place to protect children and should not allow visitors to just drop in and have access to children. Visitors to an orphanage should never be left alone with children or allowed to take the children away from the orphanage unattended. Allowing visitors to the center may result in a pattern of grooming whereby children begin to trust all visitors to the centre, this makes children vulnerable to abuse from visitors with ill intentions.<br />Background checks should be conducted for all staff and volunteers interacting with children. Orphanages who allow people to walk in off the street with no background checks and interact with children are not protecting the children in their facility.<br /><br /> Are children required to work or participate in securing funds for the orphanage?<br /><br />Children residing in orphanages should in no way be used to promote or secure funds for the orphanage. Children should never be used as a promotional tool, be required to dance, sing, to make or sell products as a way of increasing revenue for the orphanage. This is child exploitation, child labor and violates children's rights and personal safety. By forcing children to engage in revenue rising they are being groomed to participate in the methods used for begging and street work that renders children even more vulnerable to exploitation.<br /><br /> Is there long-term, trained and well-supervised staff?<br /><br />Children who are living in outside the family unit often have complex needs and require specialist staff to accommodate these needs. Continuity of staff is important for children to attach and bond with a single caregiver. Where possible a constant caregiver should be appointed to attend to the child's daily needs promoting consistency and secure attachments to caregivers. Supervision of staff assures that they are upholding the rights of the child and that any difficulties they encounter are met and addressed. Orphanages that rely on foreign volunteers and staff undermine children's needs for developing long term and meaningful relationships.<br /><br /><br /> Are sibling groups kept together?<br /><br />It is important that children are not separated from their siblings. Children should have the opportunity to live and stay in small family environments where they have the chance to bond with caregivers and their siblings. Consistency of care is important to children in creating long and lasting relationships. Remaining with siblings also allows children to stay connected to their cultural and family roots whilst they are separated from their families.<br /><br /><br /> Does the orphanage have an active family reunification program?<br /><br />Are orphanages actively involved in maintaining relationships with living family members so that children can rejoin their family and community? Orphanages should be encouraging community alternatives such as kinship care and foster care above institutionalized care. Orphanages should be able to demonstrate how they are actively exploring family and community care options for children residing in their orphanage. In Cambodia, the government released Minimum Standards of Care as part of its alternative care policy that explicitly states that all orphanages must actively seek family and community alternatives for children living in institutionalized care.<br /><br /><br /> Is the orphanage located in the same community that the child previously lived in or the closest orphanage available?<br /><br />Displacement of children from their community of origin reduces the chances of the child being reintegrated into his or her community. It also causes disruption of daily routines such as continuity of education, culture and social life and ties. It is important for children to remain connected with their families and community for healthy mental and social development.<br /><br /> <br />Is the orphanage set up to replicate family living or small groups?<br /><br />It is important for a child's development and life after living in institutionalized care to be provided with the opportunity to learn the life skills that come from residing in a small family environment. A small family environment models essential life skills such as cooking, cleaning, how to interact with adults, managing a budget etc. These skills are essential for young adults in learning to live independently from their families. Some children living in orphanages who lack this stimulation become institutionalized and are unable to be an active participant in life outside the orphanage. Living in a small family environment gives children an opportunity to create meaningful relationships with adults and strong bonds with other children.<br /><br /><br /> Does the orphanage respect and accommodate children's background and religious beliefs?<br /><br />Each child has the right to practice his or her own religious and cultural beliefs. In no way should a child be persuaded or unduly pressured to practice a religion other then his or her own in line with cultural beliefs. Real and meaningful steps should be taken to ensure that a child can practice his/her own religion and cultural beliefs. This may include, but is not limited to, access to religious sites, interaction with religious and cultural leaders, and a specialized or modified diet.</i><br /><p class='blogpress_location'>Location:<a href='http://maps.google.com/maps?q=110,Takeo,Cambodia%4010.981304%2C104.789315&z=10'>110,Takeo,Cambodia</a></p>Terrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14924882563451209194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4316705325697846954.post-44980190106779483852011-11-17T20:40:00.001-08:002011-11-17T20:40:54.488-08:00Farewell #1My 1st day as a volunteer with All Hands I had tears in my eyes when a person I barely meet gave their farewell, and almost every meeting there after the tears would come again and again. I knew if I felt this much I would only be in worse shape to give my own. Therefore I wrote what I wanted to say down. On September 2nd, after 28 days on Project Tohoku almost balling (typical Terri) and barely able to see what I wrote I shoved the following out of my mouth.<br /><br />"Why do you volunteer, and why do you leave your home to do it?<br /><br />This a question almost all of us at All Hands have been asked by out our loved ones, the curious ones, and those that never will understand.<br /><br />Here is my response:<br /><br />I volunteer because I can<br />I volunteer because I have been blessed with the opportunity to do so<br />I volunteer because it is my duty as a citizen of this beautiful world<br /><br />I volunteer because I want to be rich!<br /><br />If I had all the money in the world I would be volunteering full-time, but instead I work to be able to volunteer and am on the way with all of you to become some of the riches people I will ever know.<br /><br /><i>Some of us may not have much in our bank accounts, but we have:<br /><br /> Made my our families proud by not just traveling to see the Imperial Palace, or climb Mt. Fuji but to help to return smiles to the faces of Japan<br /><br /> Gotten muddy, suborned, rained on while doing true physical labor like half of <br /> the world that doesn't have a choice<br /><br /> Cried tears of joy and heartbreak when we helped to return photos to a family <br /> who had lost so much including one of their beautiful daughters on March 11th<br /><br /> Sang and swayed to "Lean On Me" with our brothers and sisters from around <br /> the world, bringing even more meaning to such a sweet diddy<br /><br /> Had so many dreams come true, including ones we didn't even know we had <br /> and made new even bigger ones<br /><br /> Painted a mural that will brighten and inspire people who come, return or live <br /> in Ofunato for years to come<br /><br /> Said hello and see you later to more friends then most people do in 5 years<br /><br /> Seen a river lightened up by paper lanterns of the one that have gone before <br /> us<br /><br /> Had some of the best conversations with only are hands and facial <br /> expressions because we have yet to become a J-Heart<br /><br /> Danced in the streets wearing our very own beautiful yukatas and mastered <br /> the art of float traffic jams during Tanabata</i><br /><br />All Hands staff and my fellow volunteers thanks for allowing me to invest not only in Japan, but the entire world and myself. Thanks for making me rich!"<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><p class='blogpress_location'>Location:<a href='http://maps.google.com/maps?q=Ofunato,%20I-wate,%20Japan&z=10'>Ofunato, I-wate, Japan</a></p>Terrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14924882563451209194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4316705325697846954.post-57015012897626860282011-11-06T04:37:00.001-08:002011-11-06T04:37:23.716-08:00RT PhotosCleaning photos is not a very physically demanding task but each day it is an emotional experience and an important task in a very personal way. I and my fellow volunteers get to play a small part in saving something very special for people who have lost so much. <br /><br /><br /><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/11/06/891.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/11/06/s_891.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' align='left' style='margin:5px'></a><br />There are five parts to the photo project: Salvaging, sorting, cleaning, albums, and retouching. <br /><br />Salvaged photos are still found daily in the tsunami area, they can be miles from were they were stored and found. Sometimes photos and other valuables are found on other job sites, and turned into the team leader. The hardest part is deciding what is valuable and what should be left in the rubbish piles. It because a treasure hunt / archeological dig to see what you can find. <br /><br />Once found these items go to the local police who then take them to a local warehouse to be sorted and cleaned. The Rikuzentakata warehouse has been one of our responsibilities since August, but the tsunami happened in March. As one could expect the main focus of the recovery effort in the beginning was people and finding them homes. This meant that piles and piles of savaged items closed up in bags (which was a good idea at the time) stayed soaked in seawater, mud, which is the ideal conditions for all sorts of mold. So, when I walked into the warehouse the first day I was overwhelmed by smell and the amount of things that needed to be sorted and washed. For almost two months the Rikuzentakata teams has diligently worked in this mess, deciding what could be saved and what was to far damaged or unhealthy to be returned. Our guideline being would I want that back if I no longer had nothing, and if I did get it back would it make me or someone I know sick. The items us foreign volunteers deem to bad are put in a special pile, so a few locals who lived through that tragic day can make the final decision, which I am very happy to be relieved of. <br /><br /><br /><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/11/06/892.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/11/06/s_892.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' align='left' style='margin:5px'></a><br />This same relief is not provided though when one cleans photos. For each photo there is only one chance to get it right. Wynne tells each team member, you are like a tattoo artist with each work of art you only get one shot and its forever. There is always a bit of pressure when you receive an album to work on. Will the photo come out easily, or will the plastic peel away with most of the picture attached? Will the paper be to eaten away to even remove it from an album? Will the ink become an abstract mess and hide the memories it once held forever? Once of the album, the cleaner is not of the weeds yet. The cleaner will turn there blue latex gloves inside out with the help of blowing in them, so they are smooth instead. They they will prepare there cold water photo bath, because the water has to be cold to kill the mold on the picture. The cold water in the summer was a welcomed treat, but now in the fall with the onset of winter and no heat, but cleaners hands are now a cause of a low quiet pain. Sadly, for some of the photos when placed in the water much of the picture just wipe away. Each of us know this is mostly caused by the mold, but each time it happens it feels like a personal battle lost and a bit of guilt is felt. In these situations we hope at least the faces are preserved. In all photos the faces are the most important aspect because they help the owner of the photograph or the friends and family members identify the picture. <br /><br />After the photographs are cleaned of as much mold and debris as possible, they are hanged to dry and then put in photo albums. Though many of the photographs have been badly damaged, they are made beautiful again as a collection of memories. <br /><br /><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/11/06/893.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/11/06/s_893.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' align='left' style='margin:5px'></a><br />The albums with the clean dry photos are then driven Denshoukan to be apart of the photo library. Here the albums are be displayed in numeral order of when they arrived, so members of the community can search through them to find their missing moments. Some people are lucky to find numerous pictures on their first visits, others it takes a few trips to the library, and even more heartbreaking for others their pictures will never be seen again. It is a hard process to watch as one sifts through the hundreds of thousands of picture, it could take days even months to go through all the photos that are still being savaged and some will find nothing - I can only imagine the wave of emotion and hope one must have to go through this search. There patience and diligence keep me motivated, and when there seems to be no light at the end of the tunnel it is when a person recognizes a face in a single photo or better yet 7 albums when you know each step in this long tedious process is worth it. <br /><br />With the cherry on the top being that each person who finds photos, can choose to have 5 photos professional retouched by photoshop experts from around the world. Becci Mason is the brain behind this part of the project which has received worldwide press and praise. Read more about restoring photos for tsunami victims go to http://www.npr.org/2011/08/19/139747453/in-japan-restoring-photos-for-tsunami-victims<br /><br /><i>As of November 6, 2011:<br /><br />*Over 1oo,ooo photos have been hand cleansed<br /><br />*351+ albums have been returned to there owners (this number does not include "random" photos which can be 1 to 9 photos)<br /><br />*343 photos have been professionally retouched<br /></i><br /><br /><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/11/06/894.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/11/06/s_894.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' align='left' style='margin:5px'></a><br /><br />Terrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14924882563451209194noreply@blogger.com0