We eat together. We walk together. We shop in the market. We cook. We watch movies and we practice each other’s language.
I have a housemate, and I’m very grateful that I do. Twenty-nine year old Veronica, was born in Tanzania and is a nurse officer and a great guide. She calmly explains the answers to all my questions and listens with a learner’s avid desire to know more as we dissect movies for points of cultural similarities and differences. So far we’ve watched films about Africa and about the South in the U.S. so we’ve each gotten to be the “expert” for the other.
Yesterday we walked for two and half hours. The only road in Karatu that is paved is the main road that takes the many tourists and their safari companies to the big attraction in these parts Ngorogoro Crater. Otherwise the roads are dust and dirt, packed and red, with holes and ridges in them that the drivers of the jeeps and SUVs just know how to navigate. Seriously, no one I know would think they could make it down these roads if they encountered one in the states. And yet, these guys do it. I’m amazed every time.
On foot, it’s like hiking a mountain path. And the “hills” that we’re climbing to get home after taking a walk to the market will definitely be my substitute for the gym! But the reward? Wow! When you see the vistas they take your breath away. Rolling hills, covered in green with the occasional tree spotting the horizon and multicolored bougainvilla everywhere. Plus plots of rich earth in neat squares and cows, goats and donkeys grazing here and there. Put some strings behind this as a score and you’ve got every movie scene of Africa you’ve ever seen. But as I stand to take my photos, I know that nothing will capture this beauty and so I take an extra moment to say a word of thanks and ask that somehow it remain in my memory.
The main road here is lined with much like what I remembered businesses in Ethiopia to be. Small shops made of mud brick or brightly painted concrete blocks with tin roofs or roadside stands of wood, planks and scrap metal selling all that is needed for city life. Each shop has its thing – beauty supplies, pots and pans, rubber boots, the butcher, the drug store, a gas station, etc. Restaurants are interesting in that “fast food” is a case like you’d see in a bakery in the U.S. with the food already prepared and which they will wrap in a newspaper for you to take out. Samosas, doughnuts, and a boiled egg covered in meat and deep fried seem to be the burgers and tacos of the people. I haven’t tried it yet but will. Having discovered that food is much like what I’ve known in the South – stews, thoroughly cooked greens and beans, and something similar to grits – I’m not in any way threatened or mesmerized by the fare.
In fact, I’ve enjoyed most my time here thus far cooking with Veronica. The kitchen is small and the kitchen tools are few – one pot (now two after our trip to the market yesterday), a sauté pan, one large spoon, one spatula, a knife and a potato peeler. But you’d be amazed at what we come up with. Ratatouille anyone? Omelets with hash browns?
Like most of the stews here, she and I are mixing together in the same house taking on a bit of each other’s flavor and the result is quite satisfying.
Sunday, January 20, 2008
Practical Points Part 1
Whenever I travel, I try to keep track of things I’m glad I did to prepare and things I wished I’d done. Through the years and the miles, the lists have come in handy. I still overpack but not nearly what I used to. So for my future (and perhaps others who may feel a tug toward this work) benefit, I will add to this list as my time here passes. So far . . .
The choice of the more expensive malaria tablets that have fewer to no side effects was a good one. I have only a bit of physical trouble when traveling but it takes a few days for my system to adapt. Plus while there’s no sounds of the city to contend with, nature has its own sound effects so sleep isn’t always guaranteed. Good call making the choice that doesn't include strange dreams.
I should have gotten the yellow fever and typhoid shot earlier. I tried to schedule in December but with the holidays wound up with a first week in January date and then the vaccine didn’t come in as planned. Waiting for a month after I knew I was coming was silly.
Packing is always challenging. I like the sense that without control of much in my life when I’m in another country, surrounded by another language, without means to get from one place to the next except for my feet and limited to contact with my normal world, that I can at least wear clothes that make me feel "normal". However, hauling bags is absolutely ridiculous. So I did better but not my best. For another six week gig, I’d bring two skirts and five blouses that I can mix and match and layer. That and a pair of jeans and one pair of slacks would be plenty. The culture is too conservative so the shorts I brought will only be worn at home. And had I really thought about the heat, I’d have left heels at home and just put in my sandals and flip flops along with my hiking boots.
I do like that I brought a towel and hand cloth that I got for backpacking trips. They are light and don’t take up any space. Plus they dry easier than thick towels which when washed here would have been stiff!
On a funny note, I didn’t bring my perfume because it’s in a glass container. I figured I would just give up having a scent while in Africa. No so! I happen to pick up tropical scent bug spray and I’ve found that as I spritz that on each day, I’m kinda glad I do have my own smell! I’m thinking it’s a pina colada thing I’ve got going on!
I always carry a supply of all the different over the counter drugs I’d need for stomach problems, colds and especially aches and pains. The Tylenol P.M. has worked wonders as well.
I may have to use the ear plugs I always bring. There are a few birds who delight in banging up against my window as soon as the sun rises.
I didn’t need to bring some of the comfort foods I brought because there are several products here that are very familiar. I can get all the Pringles I want. Chocolate is big but I don’t know if it’s like ours. I’m going to check to see if hair spray is available.
Packing with the intent to give away several items that I brought with me was a good move as well. I’ve already handed over a dress and jacket that I knew was never really truly my style and I’m leaving my travel Scrabble behind since they no longer have one here. Oh! And I’m really, really glad I brought the games and the DVDs. In fact, I wish I’d brought more.
As my time here allows for a few more adventures, I’m sure I’ll add to the list but so far those are my travel observations.
The choice of the more expensive malaria tablets that have fewer to no side effects was a good one. I have only a bit of physical trouble when traveling but it takes a few days for my system to adapt. Plus while there’s no sounds of the city to contend with, nature has its own sound effects so sleep isn’t always guaranteed. Good call making the choice that doesn't include strange dreams.
I should have gotten the yellow fever and typhoid shot earlier. I tried to schedule in December but with the holidays wound up with a first week in January date and then the vaccine didn’t come in as planned. Waiting for a month after I knew I was coming was silly.
Packing is always challenging. I like the sense that without control of much in my life when I’m in another country, surrounded by another language, without means to get from one place to the next except for my feet and limited to contact with my normal world, that I can at least wear clothes that make me feel "normal". However, hauling bags is absolutely ridiculous. So I did better but not my best. For another six week gig, I’d bring two skirts and five blouses that I can mix and match and layer. That and a pair of jeans and one pair of slacks would be plenty. The culture is too conservative so the shorts I brought will only be worn at home. And had I really thought about the heat, I’d have left heels at home and just put in my sandals and flip flops along with my hiking boots.
I do like that I brought a towel and hand cloth that I got for backpacking trips. They are light and don’t take up any space. Plus they dry easier than thick towels which when washed here would have been stiff!
On a funny note, I didn’t bring my perfume because it’s in a glass container. I figured I would just give up having a scent while in Africa. No so! I happen to pick up tropical scent bug spray and I’ve found that as I spritz that on each day, I’m kinda glad I do have my own smell! I’m thinking it’s a pina colada thing I’ve got going on!
I always carry a supply of all the different over the counter drugs I’d need for stomach problems, colds and especially aches and pains. The Tylenol P.M. has worked wonders as well.
I may have to use the ear plugs I always bring. There are a few birds who delight in banging up against my window as soon as the sun rises.
I didn’t need to bring some of the comfort foods I brought because there are several products here that are very familiar. I can get all the Pringles I want. Chocolate is big but I don’t know if it’s like ours. I’m going to check to see if hair spray is available.
Packing with the intent to give away several items that I brought with me was a good move as well. I’ve already handed over a dress and jacket that I knew was never really truly my style and I’m leaving my travel Scrabble behind since they no longer have one here. Oh! And I’m really, really glad I brought the games and the DVDs. In fact, I wish I’d brought more.
As my time here allows for a few more adventures, I’m sure I’ll add to the list but so far those are my travel observations.
Friday, January 18, 2008
Moment by Moment
I’m trying to stay in the moments here. I’ve come too far and spent too much. I don’t want to miss “here” because of thoughts of home, or comparisons with other cultures, or emotional reactions. Sometimes, though, that’s not the easiest thing in the world to do.
Language is part of it. Yes, the people I’m working with speak English. But truly listening to heavily accented English is taxing. Though not nearly as tedious at it is for them to try and listen to me, I’m sure. And while their knowledge of my language is superior and their patience for my butchering their language is phenomenal, the truth is that it’s hard to connect deeply when neither party has the vocabulary to do so. But we keep trying and through the laughter we at least can acknowledge that laughing at one’s self is something we can all share.
I find myself checking out some time though. They are talking and I’m getting about every third word and I start to wonder what Robert is doing or Roger or Brittany or Traci or any number of other folks. They tell a story about their family and I hope my mother is all right and suddenly, I’m laughing because they are but I’m clueless as to what the joke was.
And we all do the comparison thing. Yes, I catch myself thinking, “Oh that’s like the market I saw in Peru . . . or the landscape here reminds me of . . .” But there are also a few folks from one tribe here who keep asking me (at different times when the other isn’t around) if they or their features remind me of my time in Ethiopia because they have connections there. At first, I wondered if these inquiries were the Tanzanian equivalent of “do these jeans make my butt look big?” and that I had no answer that was going to satisfy. But now I’m seeing it as a natural desire to be unique, to stand out from the crowd. I’ll keep answering.
I also plan on keeping myself in check with my comparison habit though, because, honestly, no two places on earth are alike and I’m thrilled to be able to say that from experience. Still the wonder of it all can make one’s mind wander.
Finally, there are the abrupt emotional reactions. I’m in a market and I’m pushed. Not because I’ve done anything wrong or because they are angry but because they wanted to walk down the narrow path and I was in the way. I’m proud to say that today, I jumped from “what the …?” to “oh, yeah, I’m in the way” fairly fast. But, not so fast, was my reaction to trying to communicate with some folks I’m not so sure wanted to communicate with me. I don’t know that they did. I don’t know that they didn’t. And I found myself wanting to shout, “It’s ok! Tell me to leave and I will. But this pulling of information and awkward silence is killing me!”
Good news is that I didn’t shout. And in all likelihood they haven’t thought one way or the other about me being here or not being here. But when everything is new and most things are slower than you are used to … well, I get whacky in my head.
I say “whacky” because, let’s see, my field is communications and I know all the stuff I’m experiencing and have taught several seminars on how to identify and deal with it. But the best therapist, the best pastor and sometimes even an above average communicator has to be reminded of the fundamentals.
The other good news is that after a day in my head and/or learning from others, I took a walk with my housemate to the market. We bought fresh tomatoes, eggplant, garlic, peppers, green beans and carrots and with the onions we had at home, some olive oil and balsamic vinegar, we whipped up a nice little feast that was topped off by exquisite fresh pineapple and tasty bananas. Since I’ve been living off of carbs and soups you add water to, I was thrilled! (Especially in light of my attempt at dinner last night that featured a can of sardines, leftover curry soup and pasta.)
My housemate provided translation in the market, made the vendors give me her price rather than the tourist’s and was a most excellent sous chef. She also cried along beside me as we watched Steel Magnolias and I introduced her to my world of incredibly strong women who face life’s challenges as the adventure they are.
So I close my day with great wisdom echoing through my brain, “The only thing that separates us from the animals is our ability to accessorize.” I think when I go to the Serengeti I’ll wear my pearls.
Language is part of it. Yes, the people I’m working with speak English. But truly listening to heavily accented English is taxing. Though not nearly as tedious at it is for them to try and listen to me, I’m sure. And while their knowledge of my language is superior and their patience for my butchering their language is phenomenal, the truth is that it’s hard to connect deeply when neither party has the vocabulary to do so. But we keep trying and through the laughter we at least can acknowledge that laughing at one’s self is something we can all share.
I find myself checking out some time though. They are talking and I’m getting about every third word and I start to wonder what Robert is doing or Roger or Brittany or Traci or any number of other folks. They tell a story about their family and I hope my mother is all right and suddenly, I’m laughing because they are but I’m clueless as to what the joke was.
And we all do the comparison thing. Yes, I catch myself thinking, “Oh that’s like the market I saw in Peru . . . or the landscape here reminds me of . . .” But there are also a few folks from one tribe here who keep asking me (at different times when the other isn’t around) if they or their features remind me of my time in Ethiopia because they have connections there. At first, I wondered if these inquiries were the Tanzanian equivalent of “do these jeans make my butt look big?” and that I had no answer that was going to satisfy. But now I’m seeing it as a natural desire to be unique, to stand out from the crowd. I’ll keep answering.
I also plan on keeping myself in check with my comparison habit though, because, honestly, no two places on earth are alike and I’m thrilled to be able to say that from experience. Still the wonder of it all can make one’s mind wander.
Finally, there are the abrupt emotional reactions. I’m in a market and I’m pushed. Not because I’ve done anything wrong or because they are angry but because they wanted to walk down the narrow path and I was in the way. I’m proud to say that today, I jumped from “what the …?” to “oh, yeah, I’m in the way” fairly fast. But, not so fast, was my reaction to trying to communicate with some folks I’m not so sure wanted to communicate with me. I don’t know that they did. I don’t know that they didn’t. And I found myself wanting to shout, “It’s ok! Tell me to leave and I will. But this pulling of information and awkward silence is killing me!”
Good news is that I didn’t shout. And in all likelihood they haven’t thought one way or the other about me being here or not being here. But when everything is new and most things are slower than you are used to … well, I get whacky in my head.
I say “whacky” because, let’s see, my field is communications and I know all the stuff I’m experiencing and have taught several seminars on how to identify and deal with it. But the best therapist, the best pastor and sometimes even an above average communicator has to be reminded of the fundamentals.
The other good news is that after a day in my head and/or learning from others, I took a walk with my housemate to the market. We bought fresh tomatoes, eggplant, garlic, peppers, green beans and carrots and with the onions we had at home, some olive oil and balsamic vinegar, we whipped up a nice little feast that was topped off by exquisite fresh pineapple and tasty bananas. Since I’ve been living off of carbs and soups you add water to, I was thrilled! (Especially in light of my attempt at dinner last night that featured a can of sardines, leftover curry soup and pasta.)
My housemate provided translation in the market, made the vendors give me her price rather than the tourist’s and was a most excellent sous chef. She also cried along beside me as we watched Steel Magnolias and I introduced her to my world of incredibly strong women who face life’s challenges as the adventure they are.
So I close my day with great wisdom echoing through my brain, “The only thing that separates us from the animals is our ability to accessorize.” I think when I go to the Serengeti I’ll wear my pearls.
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
We Pause for this Brief Infomercial . . .
At the risk of sounding like one of those late night infomercials pleading with you to call now and for just so many cents a day you can save a child . . . well, I just found out that for less than $25 per mother or child, lives truly can be saved. Over a five-year period (with the first just concluding) the Minnesota International Health Volunteers project in Karatu, Tanzania estimates (conservatively) that it could have a positive impact on at least 87,462 women and children. And all they submit that it’s going to cost just a little over $2 million dollars to do it!
USAid lived up to its name and has provided $1.5 million, leaving MIHV to kick in $551,257. I don’t know about you but that doesn’t sound like a lot. And that’s why I really like this gig.
Let’s face it. None of us have ever heard of Minnesota International Health Volunteers. The name alone kinda makes you smile doesn’t it? Minnesota and International? Have you been there? Stuck in a traffic jam you’re not going to in any way think you’ve suddenly landed at the United Nations. The state is diverse, I’m sure, and I don’t want to disparage it but I (with my semi-blonde hair and freckles) definitely blend in.*
And yet, this organization is totally on top of what I think it means to partner with a country to get something done. They are working alongside and not “over” people who were born and live here. They are all about sustainable actions. They actually are measuring what they are doing and holding themselves accountable. And the “them”? Well, it’s a handful of people coordinating a gargantuan task.
Here’s the problem as they’ve identified it:
The district of Karatu has an infant mortality rate of 93/1000. Due to a lack of reporting, estimates have to put that at 8 out of 10 babies die at home and 6 had no contact from formal health services.
The three big culprits are malaria, pneumonia and respiratory problems, and diahreal diseases.
The maternal mortality rate is 247/1000. Since ¼ of the women have babies before the age of 18 and then have the next baby before two years is up, you can begin to see a problem, right?
The solutions they’ve said “Yes, we’re here to help” with are all about working with existing systems including governmental entities and traditional service providers like the drug store shopkeepers (do not read “pharmacist” here because only the owner is one of those, otherwise these are just clerks offering advice) and traditional birth attendants (and here you need not think of midwives as we’ve come to know them but village women who have “been there, done that” and are willing to stay by the mother’s side if she invites them in (and sometimes she doesn’t which adds to the mortality rate mentioned above). They also are trying to develop community with the high risk groups and even focusing on not just surviving but thriving as they seek self-sustaining avenues to help young women support themselves and their families.
Today I found out that if they could get their hands on the money for 90 bikes they would have the motivational tool needed to have hand-picked and trained workers in the villages they’ve targeted. These would be and currently are (though the numbers are small) volunteers mind you. But the bike and the status in the village would be incentive enough.
I couldn’t help think, “I know a gynecologist who would be great at training. And a pharmacist who could help with the drug stores. And a computer guy who could fix these machines that keep breaking down. And a videographer, and a marathon runner for the malaria awareness campaign they’re doing and probably at least one person who could help with every other need they have.” While I don’t expect all my friends to pack up and come here for the project’s duration. I did wonder if the chance to make a difference with what they kow would be enticing. And I know that one small vagabond group of friends and family could certainly help financially with this small group that’s making such an incredible difference! (Really, folks, they have done more in three months than I’ve seen some groups do in three years and that’s with one hand tied metaphorically behind their backs as the governmental support exists but the faces keep changing due to turnover.)
Oh! Just in case you think I’m intoxicated from all the sightings of elephants, giraffes and exotic African landscape, I want to report that thus far I’ve seen one baboon roadside, a few interesting birds and that lizard in my closet.
This project just rocks. So if you want to make that difference . . . if you have $80 for a bike . . . if you want to check out other options . . . visit www.mihv.org.
This telethon has now concluded for the day.
*Note: Before anyone gets too offended, I know Minnesota is diverse. I remember something about it having one of the largest Hmong populations in the state. I’m just saying I don’t think “international” when I first hear it.
USAid lived up to its name and has provided $1.5 million, leaving MIHV to kick in $551,257. I don’t know about you but that doesn’t sound like a lot. And that’s why I really like this gig.
Let’s face it. None of us have ever heard of Minnesota International Health Volunteers. The name alone kinda makes you smile doesn’t it? Minnesota and International? Have you been there? Stuck in a traffic jam you’re not going to in any way think you’ve suddenly landed at the United Nations. The state is diverse, I’m sure, and I don’t want to disparage it but I (with my semi-blonde hair and freckles) definitely blend in.*
And yet, this organization is totally on top of what I think it means to partner with a country to get something done. They are working alongside and not “over” people who were born and live here. They are all about sustainable actions. They actually are measuring what they are doing and holding themselves accountable. And the “them”? Well, it’s a handful of people coordinating a gargantuan task.
Here’s the problem as they’ve identified it:
The district of Karatu has an infant mortality rate of 93/1000. Due to a lack of reporting, estimates have to put that at 8 out of 10 babies die at home and 6 had no contact from formal health services.
The three big culprits are malaria, pneumonia and respiratory problems, and diahreal diseases.
The maternal mortality rate is 247/1000. Since ¼ of the women have babies before the age of 18 and then have the next baby before two years is up, you can begin to see a problem, right?
The solutions they’ve said “Yes, we’re here to help” with are all about working with existing systems including governmental entities and traditional service providers like the drug store shopkeepers (do not read “pharmacist” here because only the owner is one of those, otherwise these are just clerks offering advice) and traditional birth attendants (and here you need not think of midwives as we’ve come to know them but village women who have “been there, done that” and are willing to stay by the mother’s side if she invites them in (and sometimes she doesn’t which adds to the mortality rate mentioned above). They also are trying to develop community with the high risk groups and even focusing on not just surviving but thriving as they seek self-sustaining avenues to help young women support themselves and their families.
Today I found out that if they could get their hands on the money for 90 bikes they would have the motivational tool needed to have hand-picked and trained workers in the villages they’ve targeted. These would be and currently are (though the numbers are small) volunteers mind you. But the bike and the status in the village would be incentive enough.
I couldn’t help think, “I know a gynecologist who would be great at training. And a pharmacist who could help with the drug stores. And a computer guy who could fix these machines that keep breaking down. And a videographer, and a marathon runner for the malaria awareness campaign they’re doing and probably at least one person who could help with every other need they have.” While I don’t expect all my friends to pack up and come here for the project’s duration. I did wonder if the chance to make a difference with what they kow would be enticing. And I know that one small vagabond group of friends and family could certainly help financially with this small group that’s making such an incredible difference! (Really, folks, they have done more in three months than I’ve seen some groups do in three years and that’s with one hand tied metaphorically behind their backs as the governmental support exists but the faces keep changing due to turnover.)
Oh! Just in case you think I’m intoxicated from all the sightings of elephants, giraffes and exotic African landscape, I want to report that thus far I’ve seen one baboon roadside, a few interesting birds and that lizard in my closet.
This project just rocks. So if you want to make that difference . . . if you have $80 for a bike . . . if you want to check out other options . . . visit www.mihv.org.
This telethon has now concluded for the day.
*Note: Before anyone gets too offended, I know Minnesota is diverse. I remember something about it having one of the largest Hmong populations in the state. I’m just saying I don’t think “international” when I first hear it.
I Can Soooooo Do This
Today I got scratched by a dog and the cat jumped in my closet while I was watching a lizard scamper over my clothes.
Know what I did?
Shooed the dog and then the cat and closed the door on the lizard while thinking, “At least it’s not a scorpion.”
Know what I did?
Shooed the dog and then the cat and closed the door on the lizard while thinking, “At least it’s not a scorpion.”
The Prestige
No television so we watch DVDs. Tonight I took in The Prestige. The gist of the film is based on their being three parts to an illusion. The final part is called the prestige; it’s the twist, the thing that makes it all right in the end – the dove reappears, the woman really isn’t cut in two, etc.
As I laid down surrounded by my mosquito canopy, I was reminded of a line I saw in a report today. Seems that while mosquito nets are available to most people in Tanzania and even affordable, malaria is still killing something like 31% of children under five in Karatue and the reason for not using them? They make folks feel claustrophobic.
Before Westerners read that and shake their heads with incredulity, I’d like to point out that in my work with AIDS and even in my personal life I’ve been told by more than one man that he didn’t like using condoms because they lessened his pleasure.
One small mosquito, one moment of a sexual high and they risk death. Why? Because the prestige isn’t just for a stage – they really do think the twist is in their favor.
And the dirty rotten trick ends with no applause.
As I laid down surrounded by my mosquito canopy, I was reminded of a line I saw in a report today. Seems that while mosquito nets are available to most people in Tanzania and even affordable, malaria is still killing something like 31% of children under five in Karatue and the reason for not using them? They make folks feel claustrophobic.
Before Westerners read that and shake their heads with incredulity, I’d like to point out that in my work with AIDS and even in my personal life I’ve been told by more than one man that he didn’t like using condoms because they lessened his pleasure.
One small mosquito, one moment of a sexual high and they risk death. Why? Because the prestige isn’t just for a stage – they really do think the twist is in their favor.
And the dirty rotten trick ends with no applause.
I'm in Africa
May not have a farm, but I do have six weeks in a guest house in Karatu, Tanzania. This is a land of contrasts -- gray buildings in the city, pot hole ridden roads and then magnificent vistas of green that will take your breath away as they are framed by mountains, volcanoes and even one of the eight natural wonders of the world.
More later, because while I can get on the internet, I can't stay long.
More later, because while I can get on the internet, I can't stay long.
Air Travel Has It's Advantages, However . . .
This KLM plane is less than satisfying. I don't mind long flights when I have all the accoutrements that make it bearable. I can't tell you what type of plane carries my favorite item but I can tell you that if I board and see that the back of the seat in front of me includes a tv screen of my very own where I can watch any number of movies at my discretion or play games ... well then, I'm a happy flyer.
Both planes -- the one to Amsterdam and the one to Kilamanjaro -- were sans the personal screens. I got to watch one several feet above the row in front of me and was "entertained" with The Nannyt Diaries, Ratatoulle and bad TV programs (really, does anyone care that Malcolm was every in the Middle) and then a Jackie Chan romp and that fantasy thing about a star becoming human. Riveting, I tell you, just riveting.
My Mac only has backgammon and my opponent is programmed to offer up smartass comments when I lose which is often. So I took to writing instead of continuing humliation.
Writing has been on the back burner of later. I'm not uninterested in it but he temporary nature of my living arrangements may be affecting me more than I realized. Without roots, I don't feel settled enough to write. Structure, it seems, is as important to my motivation for a continuing conversation with my keyboard as it is to a good paragraph.
But speaking of burners, I have been enjoying a tad bit more cooking of late. And creating int he kitchen often gives me similar satisfaction as creating at a desk. When I pull off an interview and then piece together the best quotes with a lead that truly grabs attention and summarizes what I'm about to tell folks, it's rather lovely. As is piecing together a delicious meal with what I have on hand in the fridge. The other night I had a 20 minute feast prepared and it was a healthy presentation for me and my current host, Roger. Sauteed peppers and onions in a white wine reduction over baked fish and bismati was more than satisfying. At the risk of points off for bad puns -- our healthy meal was icing on the cake!
I like the idea of cooking with ingredients I can feel good about. I've certainly pulled my fair share of 9X13 casseroles ladened with cream of something and cheese products out of my oven but when I turn it up a notch and go fresh, I'm proud.
The plan is to take a class when I return from my travels. While I don't think the world needs another cookbook or magazine article about the joy of cooking, I do plan on capturing a few thoughts and new ideas along the way in Tanzania so who knows? Africa may hold a few culinary surprises worth writing about as well. We shall see.
What I see now is the need to close down the computer to take part in the only other distraction this plane offers -- another meal. While it's wrapped in plastic wrap and all of its various sponsors are duly noted on the packaging they haven't been too bad. At least not nearly as bad as the tv!
Both planes -- the one to Amsterdam and the one to Kilamanjaro -- were sans the personal screens. I got to watch one several feet above the row in front of me and was "entertained" with The Nannyt Diaries, Ratatoulle and bad TV programs (really, does anyone care that Malcolm was every in the Middle) and then a Jackie Chan romp and that fantasy thing about a star becoming human. Riveting, I tell you, just riveting.
My Mac only has backgammon and my opponent is programmed to offer up smartass comments when I lose which is often. So I took to writing instead of continuing humliation.
Writing has been on the back burner of later. I'm not uninterested in it but he temporary nature of my living arrangements may be affecting me more than I realized. Without roots, I don't feel settled enough to write. Structure, it seems, is as important to my motivation for a continuing conversation with my keyboard as it is to a good paragraph.
But speaking of burners, I have been enjoying a tad bit more cooking of late. And creating int he kitchen often gives me similar satisfaction as creating at a desk. When I pull off an interview and then piece together the best quotes with a lead that truly grabs attention and summarizes what I'm about to tell folks, it's rather lovely. As is piecing together a delicious meal with what I have on hand in the fridge. The other night I had a 20 minute feast prepared and it was a healthy presentation for me and my current host, Roger. Sauteed peppers and onions in a white wine reduction over baked fish and bismati was more than satisfying. At the risk of points off for bad puns -- our healthy meal was icing on the cake!
I like the idea of cooking with ingredients I can feel good about. I've certainly pulled my fair share of 9X13 casseroles ladened with cream of something and cheese products out of my oven but when I turn it up a notch and go fresh, I'm proud.
The plan is to take a class when I return from my travels. While I don't think the world needs another cookbook or magazine article about the joy of cooking, I do plan on capturing a few thoughts and new ideas along the way in Tanzania so who knows? Africa may hold a few culinary surprises worth writing about as well. We shall see.
What I see now is the need to close down the computer to take part in the only other distraction this plane offers -- another meal. While it's wrapped in plastic wrap and all of its various sponsors are duly noted on the packaging they haven't been too bad. At least not nearly as bad as the tv!
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
Good Things Come to Africa!
I am getting "amused credit" for bringing the rains to Karatu! Actually, the people are smiling because they've been waiting anxiously for the rainy season and in dire need of something to help with the crops and the animals. Since I happen to arrive on the same day as the rain, I'm getting a few kudos as well. Here's hoping that both the moisture and I keep up the good work!
Please note that the entries on this blog may sometimes appear out of order. Internet connections are not easy and yesterday I couldn't post the beginning entries and sent them on to a friend who may get them posted today. Rather than try and post them myself, I'm proceeding but the gist of those was that I arrived!
I just read the program description for the work I'll be doing. The problem they are addressing is the fact that the under-five mortality rate for 2000-2004 was 112 per 1000 live births and its infant morality rate was 68 per 1000. In Karatu where I am, the infant mortality rate was 93 per 1000 live births. However, since many children are born at home with traditional birth attendants or the mother actually doing the whole thing solo, the estimates are that 8 out of 10 children die at home and six of them withut any contact with formal health services.
This project is to create awareness among the birth attendants of potential problems and provide prevention education. I'm quite excited about a Survive and Thrive aspect to it as well which will help provide the mothers with a way to produce income.
The rains are nourishing the dusty fields and thirsty plants and providing a slippery approach to driving. Fortunately, I'm not the one in the drivers seat as cars are limited and the program has a couple of jeeps and drivers attached. I can't wait to see what my legs look like at then end of the day though. I am wearing skirts to fit into the conservative culture and that translates into muddy calves to be sure. I mentioned that the roads were dirt, right? Of course, now they are mud!
After trying to make the internet work last night, I sat down to a surprise meal prepared by my housemate who is a worker with the program. She is staying at the guest house until she can find more permanent residence. The potato and meat stew was tasty and we watched Out of Africa as we ate.
"I had a farm in Africa" never sounded so ironic and sweet as it did last night. She was curious about the relationships depicted in the story. And she provided commentary on the African elements. I think we both enjoyed the exchange of information.
Ok, that's enough infor for now. Let's see if I can actually post this time!
Please note that the entries on this blog may sometimes appear out of order. Internet connections are not easy and yesterday I couldn't post the beginning entries and sent them on to a friend who may get them posted today. Rather than try and post them myself, I'm proceeding but the gist of those was that I arrived!
I just read the program description for the work I'll be doing. The problem they are addressing is the fact that the under-five mortality rate for 2000-2004 was 112 per 1000 live births and its infant morality rate was 68 per 1000. In Karatu where I am, the infant mortality rate was 93 per 1000 live births. However, since many children are born at home with traditional birth attendants or the mother actually doing the whole thing solo, the estimates are that 8 out of 10 children die at home and six of them withut any contact with formal health services.
This project is to create awareness among the birth attendants of potential problems and provide prevention education. I'm quite excited about a Survive and Thrive aspect to it as well which will help provide the mothers with a way to produce income.
The rains are nourishing the dusty fields and thirsty plants and providing a slippery approach to driving. Fortunately, I'm not the one in the drivers seat as cars are limited and the program has a couple of jeeps and drivers attached. I can't wait to see what my legs look like at then end of the day though. I am wearing skirts to fit into the conservative culture and that translates into muddy calves to be sure. I mentioned that the roads were dirt, right? Of course, now they are mud!
After trying to make the internet work last night, I sat down to a surprise meal prepared by my housemate who is a worker with the program. She is staying at the guest house until she can find more permanent residence. The potato and meat stew was tasty and we watched Out of Africa as we ate.
"I had a farm in Africa" never sounded so ironic and sweet as it did last night. She was curious about the relationships depicted in the story. And she provided commentary on the African elements. I think we both enjoyed the exchange of information.
Ok, that's enough infor for now. Let's see if I can actually post this time!
Sunday, January 13, 2008
Because It Would Be Way Too Easy to Sleep
I decided to continue my marathon connection by handing out water at the Houston race this morning. That meant getting up at 5 a.m. and being at my post at 5:45. It was dark. Very dark. We set up tables. Filled paper cups with water and Gatorade. Handed said beverages out to the record-breaking number of runners this year and then tore it all down, swept up all types of fluids (don't think about that too deeply if you have a weak stomach) and collected all the sweaty clothes that the runners discarded before heading to a great Mexican place for breakfast.
I just checked email and will be showering before heading to the airport (a gift to the person who will be sitting beside me to Amsterdam, don't you think?). My plane leaves at 3:50 p.m. and if I've got this figured right, 22 hours from then I'll be in Tanzania.
Wish everyone reading this could be that seatmate but since you can't I'll keep you posted.
I just checked email and will be showering before heading to the airport (a gift to the person who will be sitting beside me to Amsterdam, don't you think?). My plane leaves at 3:50 p.m. and if I've got this figured right, 22 hours from then I'll be in Tanzania.
Wish everyone reading this could be that seatmate but since you can't I'll keep you posted.
Friday, January 11, 2008
So ... It's Been a While
One of the few folks who check my blog regularly informed me that I was long overdue on a post.
Since anyone who even occasionally checks in might surmise by the distance between my last post and this that I was thrown overboard by a overly zealous party animal on the Carnival cruise, I will take this opportunity to announce that I'm alive and well and have been land-bound for over a month.
Life has just been extremely temporary and I haven't had a moment to contemplate what I might want to say in this space I've come to view as my connection with friends from one end of the U.S. to the other. I have a few folks who know me well across the big sea but I doubt seriously they check in here. And after the fourth person told me they missed whatever it was that I might be sharing, I determined it was time to say something even it lacked anything near humor, profundity or even clarity!
So here I am ... not exactly contemplative (I AM flying to Tanzania in two days so you can give me a bit of grace can't you for being surrounded by icky details like when I'm going to get my yellow fever shot?) and not exactly informative (I will save for later my observations regarding my cross country drive for the holidays, my assessment of my hometown's enthusiasm for high school basketball, my love for my convertible even if it is cold and I have a golf ball size crack in the front window, my joy over starting the year off right with friends, and my process of determining exactly what "office formal" dress looks like for my stay in Tanzania.)
Instead, I'll simply say my hope is to blog regularly while in Africa as calls are $5/min and texts are 50 cents each! Creativity (or evidence to the lack thereof) is once again spurred by a lack of finances! Other writers got their start with less of a muse, right?
So keep checking ... I leave Sunday, arrive on a new continent on Monday and will try and post by Wednesday.
Since anyone who even occasionally checks in might surmise by the distance between my last post and this that I was thrown overboard by a overly zealous party animal on the Carnival cruise, I will take this opportunity to announce that I'm alive and well and have been land-bound for over a month.
Life has just been extremely temporary and I haven't had a moment to contemplate what I might want to say in this space I've come to view as my connection with friends from one end of the U.S. to the other. I have a few folks who know me well across the big sea but I doubt seriously they check in here. And after the fourth person told me they missed whatever it was that I might be sharing, I determined it was time to say something even it lacked anything near humor, profundity or even clarity!
So here I am ... not exactly contemplative (I AM flying to Tanzania in two days so you can give me a bit of grace can't you for being surrounded by icky details like when I'm going to get my yellow fever shot?) and not exactly informative (I will save for later my observations regarding my cross country drive for the holidays, my assessment of my hometown's enthusiasm for high school basketball, my love for my convertible even if it is cold and I have a golf ball size crack in the front window, my joy over starting the year off right with friends, and my process of determining exactly what "office formal" dress looks like for my stay in Tanzania.)
Instead, I'll simply say my hope is to blog regularly while in Africa as calls are $5/min and texts are 50 cents each! Creativity (or evidence to the lack thereof) is once again spurred by a lack of finances! Other writers got their start with less of a muse, right?
So keep checking ... I leave Sunday, arrive on a new continent on Monday and will try and post by Wednesday.
Monday, December 10, 2007
Monday Morning Ramblings When Fog Delays Your Cruise Ship
--The Christmas season is fraught with unfulfilled expectations. You think it's ok to simply wish for everyone's cookies to be placed on an appropriate shelf with just enough stretching to making them tastier but not enough to strain themselves?
--When packing for a week away, is a bag and a backpack excessive?
--The credit card company had me prove I was me several times while I tried to regain the funds that someone decided was more theirs than mine recently. Good news was that I happened to check while the charges were still pending. "Makes me tired" news is that I had to keep an eye on whether the charges moved from pending after cancelling the card and then and only then could I make a claim. These folks are busy people. I'd be delighted if someone wanted to busy themselves with creating a phone system that allowed people in distress (that would be me when I think someone is using my identity and accessing my limited funds!) to actually forego the computerized voices and menu selections and tell their tale to a real, breathing, and hopefully caring individual from the start!
--My name and the name of my ex's new wife sounds the same but the spelling is different. Seems when that happens and the party of the first part is trying to sell a home, the party of the second part and all other parties must prove they are who they say they are. And how do the parties do this? By completing a form and signing it. So all I have to do is say I am who I say I am and they accept it.
Does anyone else feel that someone somewhere is getting paid for lots and lots of mindless paperwork?
--Lights in the Heights is a good thing. I love that people are generous enough to throw a party and invite ... let's see ... THE CITY to join them.
--My hairdresser has the coolest blue eyes and when she wears a blue dress like she did at the party her salon threw on Saturday night, she's stunning. Wait ... she's stunning no matter what!
--My friend spent much of last night burning tree limbs and claiming it was his redneck coming out. As a fellow redneck, I might have to challenge his definition slightly. I'm not that mesmerized by burning bushes. Wait ... he's a preacher. Maybe that explains it. Wonder if he heard voices?
--The fog is delaying my trip South. I'm supposed to be sailing by 4 p.m. today. Chances are . . . that's not going to happen at that time. This is me . . . crossing my fingers and waiting for the sunshine.
--When packing for a week away, is a bag and a backpack excessive?
--The credit card company had me prove I was me several times while I tried to regain the funds that someone decided was more theirs than mine recently. Good news was that I happened to check while the charges were still pending. "Makes me tired" news is that I had to keep an eye on whether the charges moved from pending after cancelling the card and then and only then could I make a claim. These folks are busy people. I'd be delighted if someone wanted to busy themselves with creating a phone system that allowed people in distress (that would be me when I think someone is using my identity and accessing my limited funds!) to actually forego the computerized voices and menu selections and tell their tale to a real, breathing, and hopefully caring individual from the start!
--My name and the name of my ex's new wife sounds the same but the spelling is different. Seems when that happens and the party of the first part is trying to sell a home, the party of the second part and all other parties must prove they are who they say they are. And how do the parties do this? By completing a form and signing it. So all I have to do is say I am who I say I am and they accept it.
Does anyone else feel that someone somewhere is getting paid for lots and lots of mindless paperwork?
--Lights in the Heights is a good thing. I love that people are generous enough to throw a party and invite ... let's see ... THE CITY to join them.
--My hairdresser has the coolest blue eyes and when she wears a blue dress like she did at the party her salon threw on Saturday night, she's stunning. Wait ... she's stunning no matter what!
--My friend spent much of last night burning tree limbs and claiming it was his redneck coming out. As a fellow redneck, I might have to challenge his definition slightly. I'm not that mesmerized by burning bushes. Wait ... he's a preacher. Maybe that explains it. Wonder if he heard voices?
--The fog is delaying my trip South. I'm supposed to be sailing by 4 p.m. today. Chances are . . . that's not going to happen at that time. This is me . . . crossing my fingers and waiting for the sunshine.
Tuesday, December 04, 2007
I'm baaaaaack . . .
Class is over. I discovered a great deal but the biggest is that I love to teach.
What I'm going to do with that and still sustain the lifestyle to which I had grown accustomed is the next item on my agenda.
But until then . . .
I have a cruise to take.
I'm taking a road trip east to see friends and family.
And, I'm scheduled to be in Tanzania mid-January until the end of February.
Life is good . . .
What I'm going to do with that and still sustain the lifestyle to which I had grown accustomed is the next item on my agenda.
But until then . . .
I have a cruise to take.
I'm taking a road trip east to see friends and family.
And, I'm scheduled to be in Tanzania mid-January until the end of February.
Life is good . . .
Wednesday, November 07, 2007
November . . . Whew!
Hope you all got a chance to be part of the land of the free and the home of the brave yesterday!
I'm in class during the day, studying four hours at night and still trying to keep up with November as Novel Writing Month (an Internet encouragement to write 50,000 words in a month which they guarantee us will be crap but it will be completed crap) and I'm going to try and blog.
But not here.
The course I'm taking is called a CELTA course and if I pass I will be certified in teaching English to non-English speakers. If you want to more check out www.celtastuff.blogspot.com. That's the blog I'm doing this month. I'll link you later but if I don't stop now, I'll be late for class!
I'm in class during the day, studying four hours at night and still trying to keep up with November as Novel Writing Month (an Internet encouragement to write 50,000 words in a month which they guarantee us will be crap but it will be completed crap) and I'm going to try and blog.
But not here.
The course I'm taking is called a CELTA course and if I pass I will be certified in teaching English to non-English speakers. If you want to more check out www.celtastuff.blogspot.com. That's the blog I'm doing this month. I'll link you later but if I don't stop now, I'll be late for class!
Friday, November 02, 2007
YeeHa!
Did my first rodeo speeches this week. Seeing Houston elementary schools is an eye opener and I think I may get more out of these gigs than the kids. I was very impressed with the one I attended today because despite the community (lower income, several strikes against it with parental support of the children at a minimum) this school was bright, cheerful and clean. I remarked to my assistant for the day that i imagined that some of the children might find the school to be somewhat of a sanctuary.
"We have a hard time getting some of them to leave," she said, shaking her head sadly.
Though they may come from some tough situations (one or more parent in jail, etc.) the teachers are not giving them any slack on the discipline front. They used the "zero" to call the kids to quiet and some of those men and women could have given drill sargeants a run for their tough guy status!
Lots of the kids wanted to linger if you gave them just a smile. Kinda broke my heart a time or two.
But so far, as I've shared with the kids the vast knowledge (ahem!) I've gained on all things chuckwagon so I could mesmerize them for 20 minute stints and encourage them to "do good in school, don't do drugs and maybe you can get a scholarship from the rodeo" (and yes, I really said that because they combined the no drugs day with rodeo day and asked us to!), I've had a few chuckles I've had to squash as well as a tear or two to hold back. Here are a few highlights:
One girl asked me if I was a real cowgirl. One boy wanted to know if I had a horse.
One 5th grader was rather enthusiastic in her query as to whether I was a close friend of Hannah Montana.
On the day after Halloween a girl with what I thought was residual makeup on her face asked, "What do you do about the girl with marks on her face?" I asked her to repeat her question and she did. I said, "Marks?" She said, "I was attacked by a pit bull." I said, "I'm sorry you were hurt. I have marks on my face too!" She said, "Yep and they're called freckles." Then she smiled and walked away.
Several third and fourth graders said their favorite food was sushi. I had no clue what sushi was in the fourth grade.
I think I'm going to like this gig but as my buddy Roger says, "No good deed goes unpunished." When I drove away from the school parking lot I noticed not a chip but a gash in my windshield. Seems a baseball must have found a way to have intimate contact with the passenger side of the front window.
Oh well . . . the adventure continues. Can I get big yee ha?
"We have a hard time getting some of them to leave," she said, shaking her head sadly.
Though they may come from some tough situations (one or more parent in jail, etc.) the teachers are not giving them any slack on the discipline front. They used the "zero" to call the kids to quiet and some of those men and women could have given drill sargeants a run for their tough guy status!
Lots of the kids wanted to linger if you gave them just a smile. Kinda broke my heart a time or two.
But so far, as I've shared with the kids the vast knowledge (ahem!) I've gained on all things chuckwagon so I could mesmerize them for 20 minute stints and encourage them to "do good in school, don't do drugs and maybe you can get a scholarship from the rodeo" (and yes, I really said that because they combined the no drugs day with rodeo day and asked us to!), I've had a few chuckles I've had to squash as well as a tear or two to hold back. Here are a few highlights:
One girl asked me if I was a real cowgirl. One boy wanted to know if I had a horse.
One 5th grader was rather enthusiastic in her query as to whether I was a close friend of Hannah Montana.
On the day after Halloween a girl with what I thought was residual makeup on her face asked, "What do you do about the girl with marks on her face?" I asked her to repeat her question and she did. I said, "Marks?" She said, "I was attacked by a pit bull." I said, "I'm sorry you were hurt. I have marks on my face too!" She said, "Yep and they're called freckles." Then she smiled and walked away.
Several third and fourth graders said their favorite food was sushi. I had no clue what sushi was in the fourth grade.
I think I'm going to like this gig but as my buddy Roger says, "No good deed goes unpunished." When I drove away from the school parking lot I noticed not a chip but a gash in my windshield. Seems a baseball must have found a way to have intimate contact with the passenger side of the front window.
Oh well . . . the adventure continues. Can I get big yee ha?
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Questions, Questions and More Questions
Tonight we saw the new flick "Gone Baby Gone" and if you deal with ethics in any way you need to take an afternoon and check this one out. The question is vividly played out: Is it better to do the right thing or the "white" as in black and white thing?
When faced with a dilemma, is there a right answer that doesn't fall into black and white thinking?
If you'd seen the movie, email me. We MUST talk!
When faced with a dilemma, is there a right answer that doesn't fall into black and white thinking?
If you'd seen the movie, email me. We MUST talk!
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Goza Makes Me Laugh
My friend, "Chaplain Cindy Goza" as she sometimes introduces herself with mock importance, told me of a conversation she overheard recently at the hospital. (As far as I know, no HIPAA rules were broken in the telling of this story.)
Man by the elevator: "Yeah, you know she's got that post partum depression . . . that thing you get in Iraq."
Cindy tried not to guffaw as she silently considered, "Is he talking about a soldier who got pregnant? Is Iraq really a cover up for unwed mothers?"
Man by the elevator: "Yeah, you know she's got that post partum depression . . . that thing you get in Iraq."
Cindy tried not to guffaw as she silently considered, "Is he talking about a soldier who got pregnant? Is Iraq really a cover up for unwed mothers?"
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
California Road Trip -- Final Highlights
Bryn (left) takes care of Richard. Richard takes care of all of Robin's friends who crash in their uber cool basement. Life in San Francisco with the Paolis is a good thing. Much thanks must be offered for nosh foods every night before the dinner meal, great wine pairings, vegan-sensitive menus planned by a man who is definitely carnivorous but also a true host, coffee and scones for breakfast, much needed conversations about writing and possibly the best tour guide I've ever encountered. Other highlights include:
-Having the gumption to return a pair of shoes just to use the 20% off coupon I had forgotten to offer at check out . . . something I have never done before!
-Giving lots of massages but especially having Judah's help when I gave one to her mom (Judah also requested her own version of a massage and with her mother watching I followed that child's orders!)
-Watching Robin and Larry take on the cold waters of the Pacific while playing with Judah in the sand
-A trip to the wine country in the VW, wrapped in a blanket in the back seat with Larry
-Sipping whites with Robert at each winery where we stopped
-Teaching both Quiddler and Farkle to friends
-The view from above the Golden Gate bridge that Robert got on our day back from the country
-Taking the southern route through California (and yes, we missed the fires by one day) and then opting for the backroads through Arizona so that we wound our way through the mountains
-In and Out burgers while sharing the fries and a shake . . . ok that's a girlie thing to say but he's cute and at this point I'm at the stage where I'm sappy
-Sedona, AZ at sunset
-Finding a hotel with a hot tub and not being able to stay as long in the sauna as one aforementioned cute guy
-Mountain vistas, desert vistas, mountain and desert vistas . . . lots and lots of vistas
-My cute, little, red VW packed to the max
-Goza welcoming me to New Mexico
and the adventure continues . . .
Monday, October 22, 2007
The Girls Will Understand This One
Remember those girls back in high school (and I'm sure NONE of you were guilty of this) who -- once they got interested in and the attention of someone -- totally ignored you for days on end as she relished being with her new interest and just assumed you'd understand and think it was perfectly acceptable?
Well . . . high school isn't all that long ago it seems and I'm guilty!
Well . . . high school isn't all that long ago it seems and I'm guilty!
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
See Larry Run a Half Marathon?
See Larry waiting for race (and the porta-potty).
See Larry getting set with other fast runners.
See Larry stretch after race.
See Larry show off his medal from race.
See Larry enjoying sweet victory!
Note what you don't see: Larry actually running the race! Why you might ask? Well . . .
I got up at 5:15 a.m. to support Larry. Rode in the dark and fog and then walked sluggishly to the race area. Finally found coffee and an English muffin and was revived enough to give the man a pep talk and assure him he could beat his personal best time of 1:50 and make his goal of a half marathon in 1:45. I even walked alongside the runners for two miles and then turned around to get back to the finish line in time to see my friend cross it.
That's when I noticed they were picking up any signs that there'd been a race. All indicators of "turn here" or "here" were gone. And I was in San Jose, CA with not a clue of how I got to the little side street with the colorful houses. In a true Southern "bless your heart" moment (or what folks in San Francisco would say was just a stupid move on my part), I wandered and finally one hour and 50 minutes after starting my trek I made it back to the race area in time to see the pace flag for 1:45 a half block away and headed for the finish. At first I thought I could catch up. Then it hit me they were running and I was walking with a back pack and far less training in speed!
By the time I met Larry at the location we'd agreed on, he was stretching.
However ....
HE EXCEEDED HIS GOAL TIME!
And even if I wasn't there to capture it, a chip on his shoe and the smile on his face was proof enough.
See Larry. See Larry run.
See Larry getting set with other fast runners.
See Larry stretch after race.
See Larry show off his medal from race.
See Larry enjoying sweet victory!
Note what you don't see: Larry actually running the race! Why you might ask? Well . . .
I got up at 5:15 a.m. to support Larry. Rode in the dark and fog and then walked sluggishly to the race area. Finally found coffee and an English muffin and was revived enough to give the man a pep talk and assure him he could beat his personal best time of 1:50 and make his goal of a half marathon in 1:45. I even walked alongside the runners for two miles and then turned around to get back to the finish line in time to see my friend cross it.
That's when I noticed they were picking up any signs that there'd been a race. All indicators of "turn here" or "here" were gone. And I was in San Jose, CA with not a clue of how I got to the little side street with the colorful houses. In a true Southern "bless your heart" moment (or what folks in San Francisco would say was just a stupid move on my part), I wandered and finally one hour and 50 minutes after starting my trek I made it back to the race area in time to see the pace flag for 1:45 a half block away and headed for the finish. At first I thought I could catch up. Then it hit me they were running and I was walking with a back pack and far less training in speed!
By the time I met Larry at the location we'd agreed on, he was stretching.
However ....
HE EXCEEDED HIS GOAL TIME!
And even if I wasn't there to capture it, a chip on his shoe and the smile on his face was proof enough.
See Larry. See Larry run.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
