tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-162033992024-03-14T05:57:44.656+13:00CRAZY. BEAUTIFUL. LIFE.Janellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12405369737031873146noreply@blogger.comBlogger80125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16203399.post-48192483068523120732015-08-16T10:07:00.000+12:002015-08-16T10:07:31.621+12:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The Urubamba weekly market bustles with life in front of me. Women amble past-- holding babies wrapped in bright, colorful mantas on their backs while also toting heavy bags of corn or potatoes. Men driving mototaxies down the narrow, well-swept streets use their horns to indicate their approach and I watch as the steady stream of people calmly and casually part, allowing <i>just</i> enough space for the moto to pass. Children scamper past me on mud-stained bare feet, giggling and playing in their brightly colored clothing. Their wind-and-sun-burned cheeks glow a rosy-red and their laughs fill the space between us. Piles of produce line the street and people are busy buying, selling, and exchanging goods. Some things I recognize--potatoes (but only a few of the 4,ooo varieties they grow in Peru!), corn, garlic, cabbage--but some things are foreign to my curious eyes. Most locals are unphased by my presence, others are amused or equally curious. They smile, laugh, wave me closer. With my wide-angle view, it's clear to see that I'm far from home. It's easy to spot the differences--to feel,...foreign. But, when I slow down, sit, and zoom in, I'm reminded of the humanness that connects us--the minuscule details that defy culture, language, and location. For a few moments I allow myself to get lost in these details. I stroll back through the Plaza de Armas and notice a boy kicking around the futbol. I motion for him to pass it to my feet--which he does without hesitation. We continue to play, allowing the common language to unite us. The universal language of soccer has allowed me to communicate in so many different countries and Peru proves to be no different. As I say goodbye to my new soccer friend, I notice a funeral procession moving towards the church. All attendees are dressed in black and they take turns adorning the casket with beautiful flowers. Musicians lead the way and all have an aura of utmost respect. The pain and feeling of loss is evident in those present. I take a moment of silence and am again reminded of the humanness that connects us. Back in the Plaza, a small child, uneasy on his feet, waddles back and forth in chase of a pigeon. As I watch his out-stretched arms zig-zag around the plaza in sheer determination, I feel myself giggling from the inside out. His dad and I are able to communicate through our shared amusement. Slowly, I'm forgetting where I am. Am failing to see the differences or feel the foreignness. Language and cultural barriers are temporarily set aside because, as it turns out, I speak the language of futbol, and funerals (grieving), and children. I love these moments. Time and time again I find that when I slow down, look closely, and open my heart, I notice that the differences that make all these countries, cultures, languages, and people unique, are made even more beautiful by the small things that connect and unite us. I revel in these small things and love the however-brief feeling of interconnected-ness.<br />
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Janellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12405369737031873146noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16203399.post-62425874337039144682015-08-15T09:43:00.002+12:002015-08-16T10:09:20.011+12:00Majestic Macaws <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">I got my first "official" job when I was 16. It was at this job, in a pet shop, that I first fell in love with macaws. Copa taught me to read his moods, his body language, and his sounds. I learned exactly how and when I could hold his beak and pull him in close for a kiss. I also learned when to keep my distance. I never lost sight of how powerful his beak could be. I learned to laugh at his harsh words ('shut up' was his favorite) and giggled along with him when his perfect imitation of a "meow" or "ruf-ruf" left customers baffled after their fruitless search for the dog or cat. B.G. taught me patience and trust. I spent hours with him, slowly gaining his trust and learning to trust him in return. Again, never losing sight of just how powerful that beak could be. Slowly, but surely, he began to move closer to me during each interaction. Eventually, he would bend his head down and ruffle his feathers slightly, indicating to me that it was safe to scratch the top of his head. And, finally, in one of our parting moments before I left for college, he climbed gently onto my arm and perched there comfortably. I moved him closer to me until his beak gently grasped the collar of my shirt and he tucked his head under my chin as I scratched and kissed his ruffled-feathered head. In those teenage pet shop moments, I never stopped to think about how those beautiful birds got there. Never stopped to think about where they came from. Clipped wings, filed beaks and trimmed claws just seemed necessary. Normal. It was what I knew and I was so thankful for the experience those birds, that shop, gave me. 16 years later, as I sat perched atop a canopy tower in the Peruvian Rainforest, I learned to love these majestic birds in a whole new way. I never once saw Copa or B.G. fly. Never experienced the contrast of their colorful wings against the green trees. Never witnessed the strength in a single wing flap or got a sense of just how huge they were. It was here that I learned about their monogamy and witnessed them flying or sitting in pairs. Always. It was here that I learned that, if their mate was captured or killed, they would never find another. Never reproduce. Never recover. I learned the purpose of that white, salty stone that always hung in bird cages and witnessed the magical site of dozens of parrots and macaws converging on a natural clay lick to satisfy those salty needs. My recent experience in the rainforest doesn't change my experiences in that pet shop. It doesn't make me regret the bond I formed with Copa and B.G. and it has not turned me into a pet bird-owner hater. It just opens my eyes. It reignites my love of animals and nature and allows me to appreciate just how vast and valuable and beautifully fragile it is. It gives me a whole new lens in which I can use to view a sliver of my world, our world. And for that, I am grateful.</span><br />
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Janellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12405369737031873146noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16203399.post-16611249517227883912012-07-19T07:44:00.000+12:002012-07-19T07:44:40.715+12:00As a foreigner...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Things I have learned as a foreigner in my own country.<br />
**These are strictly my personal--and yes, limited, experiences as I work to repatriate myself...<br />
<br />
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>When asked if you can borrow their phone, 100% of strangers will say yes.</li>
<li>When you hold the door for someone, 100% of people will make eye contact and thank you. </li>
<li>There is no substitute for family and a strong sense of community---and both of those things are everywhere if you just open your eyes. </li>
<li>When greeted with a smile, 100% of people will return the gesture. </li>
<li>50% of strangers don't know where Bangkok is. </li>
<li>The security lines at airports are ridiculously long and seemingly inefficient. </li>
<li>There are a frightening number of obese children.</li>
<li>Despite being the fattest nation in the world, summer in the North brings out the activity in people--and it's contagious. </li>
<li>People put more value in a dog-shit-free lawn then in a plastic-free Earth.</li>
<li>The staff at the LIRR are generally unhelpful. </li>
<li>There is an under-usage of fans and an over-usage of air conditioning. </li>
<li>Many people have a garden, compost, recycle, and/or use re-usable bags. </li>
<li>There are a frightening number of parents who don't know the first thing about discipline.</li>
<li>There seem to be jobs. </li>
<li>Water fountains are amazing. Tap water is amazing. People take both for granted regularly. </li>
<li>80% of strangers don't know what language is spoken in Thailand. </li>
<li>Everything is big--people, houses, boats, cars, roads.</li>
<li>Just because you might look the same, doesn't mean you're immune to feeling like a foreigner. </li>
<li>There are WAY too many TV channels. </li>
</ul>
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*This list is not yet exhausted as the road to adjusting back is far from over...</div>
</div>Janellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12405369737031873146noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16203399.post-12575950685233917432012-07-16T11:44:00.000+12:002012-07-16T12:03:03.667+12:00New Zealand, you've done it again!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Step 1: Drop a self-proclaimed "country girl" (shut up, Keri) into one of the biggest cities in the world.<br />
Step 2: Watch as she flourishes in the newness of it all...and then, f<span style="background-color: white;">our years later, watch her squirm in the absence of nature, fresh air and space.</span><br />
Step 3: Stand back as she takes a much anticipated trip to revisit New Zealand.<br />
Step 4: Read as she dramatically squeals (and writes) in delight!<br />
<br />
I sit with a childish grin plastered to my face. Snow-capped mountains to the right, green plains to the left--and, an overwhelming "ahhh" feeling of returning to a place I love. I haven't even stepped out of the plane and my heart is racing--almost as if it knows it has finally been reconnected with a few lost pieces that were left behind six years before. <br />
<br />
Days later, as I drive along SH1 from Christchurch to Picton, my heart pounds with excitement. Although the pre-dawn darkness prevents me from seeing the beauty around me, something inside of me feels in. As the deep blue, morning sky slowly lightens, its as if layers of scenery are being slowly revealed as I drive--each turn seemingly more beautiful than the last. Even this must-have-music-blasting-while-driving girl reaches for the dial--this kind of nature demands silence and I have no problem obliging.<br />
<br />
The green, sheep-covered hills suddenly roll into the rocks of the Kaikora coast. With the mountains on my left shoulder and the waves crashing on my right, I again laugh to myself. "Seriously?!?! Is this place real?!" As I drive, the rocks along the coast come to life with the movement of the seal colonies. I pull to the side just to take it all in for a while. I still haven't stopped grinning. Part of me feared returning here---afraid, perhaps, to discover that my memory had exaggerated the scenery. I didn't want the return trip to remove NZ from it's pedestal! But, there was no such exaggeration. This place really is THAT amazing! No picture or writing could do it justice. It must be seen and felt---and, it's freakin' good to be back!!!<br />
<br />
<br /></div>Janellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12405369737031873146noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16203399.post-25010515436237019522012-02-06T18:30:00.000+13:002012-02-07T00:36:01.897+13:00Freedom with Height<div style="text-align: center;"><i style="text-align: left; ">Eyes to the sky, I sit transfixed. Up there, in the dusk-kissed sky, is a another world. A world with it's own rules, it's own freedoms, it's own Masters. Tonight, the Master of the Sky is that one. The one that is flying high above the rest, the one that has been moving, successfully in, for the kill-- all evening. The nose dips, a tiny dip, indicating to me, the virgin observer, that it's time again. The body follows suit and dives in a motion so fast and deliberate it causes my body to stiffen with anticipation, I watch, eyes adjusting against the glare of the setting sun. The world up there goes still for a moment, and I wonder how many pairs of eyes are watching in anticipation along with me. Then, the attacked goes limp, a falling leaf from meters above. The Master quickly moves away, gaining freedom with height, and somewhere in this maze of rooftops, I'm sure he smiles.</i></div><div><br /></div><div>The kite fighting that ruled the skies of India never failed to captivate me. I was so fascinated by it all that Fern often had to remind me to bring my eyes back down to earth---back to the happenings on the street in front of me. Because, if I learned anything from India, it was that if you take your eyes off the road, you are bound to be run over by a car, a goat, a cow, a rickshaw, a person, a bike---and in the chance you were lucky to avoid those, surely the pile of excrement was bound to get you every time. India. Wow, India. There aren't many places that can make Bangkok seem quiet, organized, and clean--but India has done it. And India has done it well! Although our 2 week Indian adventure ultimately lacked the nature and fresh air that Fern and I were, have been, craving, it didn't stop me from falling in love with so many aspects of a country gone mad. As much as we would have liked there to be, there was, in reality, never a dull moment. My senses were in overdrive---the colors of the spices, the saris, the buildings; the delicious food smells and (of course) the less delicious smells of all those <i>other</i> <i>things</i>; the traffic sounds that never seemed to fade; the taste of some of the best food I have ever tasted (yes, of course it was street food and no, that's not an exaggeration). Many people have asked for my favourite city or favourite part of the trip--and, I hesitate every time. It's usually always a collective effort-- a build up of all the little, seemingly insignificant things that seem to latch on to my memories: the separate trains for the woman, the normalcy of declaring that "yes, we have husbands", the head wobble, the random animals on the road, the outdoor 'bathrooms', the yellow taxis that would belong on the set of a 1950's movie, the 5 cups of daily chai (served in clay pots), eating with my hands (and loving every second of it---sorry Ma), the traffic "laws", the trams, trains, and buses, the colonial buildings, the friendliness of the locals as soon as you leave the tourist trail behind, the school buses (modified rickshaws), the happenings on the street, and the markets. But, for those that insist, I'd have to say that seeing a rainbow besides the Taj Mahal on the first day of 2012 wasn't too shabby....! ;)</div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-38g6BAZOxhE/Ty-3ZbfcgrI/AAAAAAAAAVM/Zijv7HW1Pxs/s1600/IMG_2742.JPG"><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-38g6BAZOxhE/Ty-3ZbfcgrI/AAAAAAAAAVM/Zijv7HW1Pxs/s320/IMG_2742.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5705980900405969586" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a><br class="Apple-interchange-newline"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GgsetsM-730/Ty-y0rgRqfI/AAAAAAAAAVA/QBXaODFI0_Q/s1600/DSC07487.jpg"><img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GgsetsM-730/Ty-y0rgRqfI/AAAAAAAAAVA/QBXaODFI0_Q/s320/DSC07487.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5705975871002749426" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a>Fresh air will be coming in the form of a beach getaway this weekend followed by a long-awaited return trip to New Zealand this summer. (But, not before Big Bro and Cimock get a taste for this wonderful little place called Thailand. That's right folks---Big Bro has got tickets to Asia. Who would have thought?!)<br class="Apple-interchange-newline">Janellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12405369737031873146noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16203399.post-2155264699468075032011-10-31T20:01:00.008+13:002011-10-31T20:18:28.774+13:00Oh, Bangkok!<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><u><br /></u></span></div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5gxyBNr7E5w/Tq5JBbnHJoI/AAAAAAAAATw/c_AzE7W5Sxg/s1600/IMG_1412.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5gxyBNr7E5w/Tq5JBbnHJoI/AAAAAAAAATw/c_AzE7W5Sxg/s320/IMG_1412.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669549269846533762" /></a><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zW2LXQLhhZ8/Tq5IkBf_zSI/AAAAAAAAATk/42GrVn7HubY/s1600/IMG_1437.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zW2LXQLhhZ8/Tq5IkBf_zSI/AAAAAAAAATk/42GrVn7HubY/s320/IMG_1437.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669548764621163810" /></a><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fjNlNkd4xBs/Tq5IKC1Z0bI/AAAAAAAAATc/t1DKFfo6prQ/s1600/IMG_1409.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fjNlNkd4xBs/Tq5IKC1Z0bI/AAAAAAAAATc/t1DKFfo6prQ/s320/IMG_1409.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669548318302785970" /></a><p class="MsoNormal">Six hours and a world away from the current struggles of Bangkok, I allow the beach life to consume me. Just hours before, I was amongst the water, the people, the loss—the reality that has engulfed so many Thai lives—so many Bangkokians. I felt connected in those moments—connected to the severity of the loss and destruction, and connected to the depth of the Thai spirit. That unwavering “mai pen rai” that guides them to smile, to laugh, to remain calm in the face of danger, sadness, and destruction. Just hours before, I was going <i>to</i> it. going to the flood, to the sandhills, to the shelters—and, as I boarded the Laem Ngop bound bus, I couldn’t fight the feeling that I was now running <i> from </i>it. Running from the city that I call home, running from Gat, my neighbor who, only days before, had assured me “mai dong glooa—don’t be scared, I’ll make you food and paddle it over in a boat if the floods come.” Running from the people that have become a part of my everyday life. But, as the uncertainties in Bangkok grew with each long day, I knew that, for my own sanity, I had to get away. Partly because my one week holiday had unexpectantly been extended by two weeks after a Ministry of Education emergency meeting, partly because I knew my family wouldn’t have peace of mind with me living amongst the chaos that Bangkok has, once again, become, and, partly because my own selfishness didn’t want to have another sleepless night of waiting. Waiting for whatever it was that was going to happen. Waiting to see if my small flood supply of food and water would prove me over prepared or under prepared. Waiting to see if the sandbag walls would hold. Just…Waiting. <o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Far from Bangkok, far from the empty grocery shelves, the lagging water supply, far from the fear of having even another <i>drop </i>of rain and far from the news that most people in Bangkok have allowed to run their lives, the serenity has finally started to calm my worried mind and heavy heart. I’ve allowed myself to tune out a little, knowing that there isn’t much I can do from here and knowing that a bit of serenity can go a long way. I’ve already fallen into a great beach life routine and, the (very) basic hut that I was hesitant to go into on the first night, has become a bit of a haven for me. It’s the simple life that always takes a little getting used to but, once in place, fuels something in me that I can’t quite explain. I love waking with the sun, sweeping my hut and hand washing my pillowcase (this makes the very basic hut smell a little less so when I lay my head down at night!) before taking off on an early morning swim. Like clockwork, Arisa, the little Cambodian baby that I have come to love already (shocking!), greets me right after my swim and just before her morning feeding. I get lots of smiles and cuddles while mom finishes some chores around the huts. The morning passes peacefully with lots of reading, reflecting, meditating, and writing---all with the sound of the waves in my ear. By the time midday arrives, I join my friends, who are staying less than 20 paces up the beach, and I get lost in their company for the rest of the day and night. It’s all a bit perfect, really—and offers a sharp contradiction to the way things are in Bangkok. Things are far from perfect there, and, although I have allowed myself a bit of peace and serenity here, a big part of my heart is still there. Fighting with them, hoping with them, urging them to hold on. This too shall pass and when it does, I know this country will pull together to pick up the broken pieces that remain after the waters have swept away too much.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bA2zBEoDFxs/Tq5KQZmQFgI/AAAAAAAAAUU/9-x48Pqkh7o/s1600/IMG_1542.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bA2zBEoDFxs/Tq5KQZmQFgI/AAAAAAAAAUU/9-x48Pqkh7o/s320/IMG_1542.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669550626515719682" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></p><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7S7pvzOKufM/Tq5J5eang5I/AAAAAAAAAUI/mx8woSiVbhQ/s1600/IMG_1546.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7S7pvzOKufM/Tq5J5eang5I/AAAAAAAAAUI/mx8woSiVbhQ/s320/IMG_1546.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669550232672109458" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-H5W8UqAlRA8/Tq5JguBllII/AAAAAAAAAT8/NJq1f2yRzzY/s1600/IMG_1496.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-H5W8UqAlRA8/Tq5JguBllII/AAAAAAAAAT8/NJq1f2yRzzY/s320/IMG_1496.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669549807365362818" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div>Janellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12405369737031873146noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16203399.post-29557602033949250772011-10-02T00:49:00.010+13:002011-10-02T18:20:19.755+13:00Bits and Bobs from 117The latest memo in my school mailbox reminds me that 1st quarter grades are due soon. What?! Seriously?! I'm not entirely sure where those 9 weeks have gone but, roughly half must have been lost in transition and the other half must have been lost in the passion of teaching. Being lost in transition wasn't easy. Many argue that it never is, but, I wanted to think that I was becoming a seasoned professional at transitioning, changing, relocating. Man was I wrong! This change hit me harder than most. I missed a lot of things about my old job, my old kids, my old school and, after only a few days, I thought I had, once again, checked another "possible life passion" off the list. But then, without warning, things snapped back into place and I again found myself passionate about teaching, passionate about life---and, it feels great to be back!<br /><br />The last few weeks in room 117 have been fantastic. We sing, we dance, we cry, we laugh, we explore, we ask, and we seek to answer....we are becoming a great little family. Having only 10 students means lots of time and space for hands on activities. But, perhaps it's best hearing it...<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">From the 1st graders!!<br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><br />Miss J always tells us "fun but not crazy" but I think sometimes she forgets. Especially during "Monday Dance"---she let's us all go a bit crazy then. Even she does the "Monday dance" with us and she sure looks crazy! Her memory is really bad so she always asks us to remind her of things. What would she do without us? We have to remind her to change the jobs list everyday. We have to remind her how to add and subtract and sometimes she even forgets that when you write names or special nouns, you have to use a capital letter. And she's always forgetting to use punctuation when she writes sentences! Who's the teacher here anyways? Crazy Miss J.<br /><br />We love looking at our tadpoles! One person gets to help Miss J feed them everyday. "LOOK AT THAT ONE! That one has front legs!! Miss J! Miss J! Look at that one! He looks like a frog already!!" We learned about the life cycle of frogs in Science class and then we learned how to take care of our tadpoles by using Google. Did you know that if we don't feed our tadpoles, they will EAT EACH OTHER?!?! We really love Science class! Oh! And, on Thursday, we're going to the Zoo!! We are going on a mammal/reptile/amphibian/insect/fish hunt!<br /><br />Our Special Country for International Culture Day is New Zealand. Miss J used to live there and "I FOUND IT, IT"S HERE!!! Look...I found it on the globe!! Miss J, Looook. It's here!". </span></span><span style="font-style: italic;">Now we have so many stickers on our world map and globe!! America, Philippines, Japan, South Korea, India, Thailand and now, NEW ZEALAND! And tomorrow we are reading a story about the Arctic and Miss J said we have to find out where the Arctic is for homework. I think the Arctic is in Miss J's home. </span><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /><br />Did you read our story?! We wrote a story! First, we had to Brainstorm and think about what we wanted to write about. We did a vote---and decided to write about the Ballroom! We brainstormed some more and made a Sloppy Copy of it and tried to make it better and Make It Shine! Then we Fixed It by adding capital letters and punctuation. We wrote it again in good handwriting and drew pictures to go with it. Then, we signed our name and Miss J published it! We get to take turns taking it home and reading it with our parents. I think my page is the best!! You should read it because we wrote it ourselves and it's really good!!<br /><br />1st grade isn't always fun though. We have to work hard and sometimes we get so tired of thinking and writing. Miss J says "do your best work", even when we are writing on the board or drawing a picture. Sometimes people do it better then us, but if it's our best, it's okay. When we don't do our best work, or when we aren't listening or doing the "right thing", it means we don't earn time to play in the ballroom. In Kindergarten, we always got to play in the ballroom but Miss J says now that we are older, we have to earn it. I think that we should go to the ballroom everyday!! We also have lots of homework to take home in our F.R.O.G.S folders everyday. Our folders help us have re (clap) spons (clap) i (clap) bil (clap) i (clap) ty (clap). We are getting better at that. We are getting better at lots of things. And Miss J says we help her get better at things too. So, maybe it's good that we are all together in first grade!<br /><br /><br /></span><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yn_10HQIzpw/TofvzT1VWgI/AAAAAAAAASg/yi1lx7oQXDg/s1600/IMG_1084.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 289px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yn_10HQIzpw/TofvzT1VWgI/AAAAAAAAASg/yi1lx7oQXDg/s320/IMG_1084.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5658755121590655490" border="0" /></a> post shaving-cream-writing (thanks for all that shaving cream Jose!)<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-AWnXjavHUPA/TofvhF-u6jI/AAAAAAAAASY/Xcgz8vUkvXM/s1600/IMG_1069.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-AWnXjavHUPA/TofvhF-u6jI/AAAAAAAAASY/Xcgz8vUkvXM/s320/IMG_1069.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5658754808634337842" border="0" /></a> checking out the tadpoles<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-y521iIGe1XU/TofxJlEjMsI/AAAAAAAAASo/VtAkMgIhBPM/s1600/IMG_1071.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-y521iIGe1XU/TofxJlEjMsI/AAAAAAAAASo/VtAkMgIhBPM/s320/IMG_1071.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5658756603686630082" border="0" /></a> buddy reading<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bsTU68qKDKk/TofyZEq99lI/AAAAAAAAASw/TvyrX81npYI/s1600/IMG_1087.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bsTU68qKDKk/TofyZEq99lI/AAAAAAAAASw/TvyrX81npYI/s320/IMG_1087.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5658757969378932306" border="0" /></a> on the path to becoming great little presenters!<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span>Janellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12405369737031873146noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16203399.post-24313480645062523502011-07-29T20:26:00.016+12:002011-07-31T13:59:11.317+12:00Good Morning Vietnam<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_58uBUiL98o/TjS2ppJS8pI/AAAAAAAAARg/k34BItQwF5U/s1600/IMG_0497.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_58uBUiL98o/TjS2ppJS8pI/AAAAAAAAARg/k34BItQwF5U/s320/IMG_0497.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635329860283069074" border="0" /></a>I never knew that "drink locally brewed, 25 cent beer on busy Hanoi street" should be on the bucket list but, alas, it should have had a prime spot near the top!! Vietnam was never high on my list, mostly because I never heard too many positive things about it and, for whatever reason, I actually listened to the ramblings I heard. But, a random, would-be-perfect-timing rendezvous with one Sarah F (the same Sarah F that makes many appearances in my blog if you've actually been following since that blissful, start-of-it-all trip to New Zealand)! Yes, finally...after nearly 5 years, I'd be reunited with my old New Zealand friend and flatmate...and the person who helped me grow the <span style="font-style: italic;">cojones</span> to make the jump into SE Asia in the first place (she used to teach English in Vietnam and encouraged me to look in to it). So, as luck would have it, I flung myself into this "not high on my list" neighboring country with no expectations, no worries, and no real 'must see's/must do's' other then to just intercept Sarah and her folks along their 3 week SE Asia adventure. Perhaps it was this--the lack of expectations, the lack of pressure (to see and do it all) that would give this place a speed ticket through the MUST RETURN line!<br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6iUoiCs3gjs/TjS2aRkhKtI/AAAAAAAAARY/8Slh62Bh9lw/s1600/IMG_0819.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6iUoiCs3gjs/TjS2aRkhKtI/AAAAAAAAARY/8Slh62Bh9lw/s320/IMG_0819.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635329596256758482" border="0" /></a>When a street crossing can make a Bangkokian (yeah, I've claimed it, what of it...?!) hesitate and stare in awe, you know it must be crazy! Even after living in Bangkok for 3+ years, it took me a while to perfect Sarah's confident "just stick out your hand" stride across the intersection---which, just for kicks and comic relief, actually had a pedestrian crossing lane. Ha. After some time drinking the local brew roadside, and, after I insisted on crossing the road 10 more times just for kicks (sorry Ma!), the 4 of us jumped a Halong Bay bound bus and briefly said goodbye to the city noise. Watching the world pass from bus windows in these foreign countries always seems to amaze or inspire me...and Vietnam, certainly, was no exception. I felt myself comparing it a lot to the other countries I've been to in SE Asia but, it became more and more difficult to do.... Same Same but SO different! As the landscape unfolds, it immediately makes me question the fact that Thailand is the top exporter of rice! The paddies here stretch as far as the eye can see, (Jose, even you wouldn't miss these rice fields!) and are littered with dozens and dozens of workers in their <i>nón lá (coolie hats!). </i>The site is amazingly beautiful and during the 3.5 hour journey, I never tired of staring out the window. A million rice fields, a few hilarious bumps, an entertaining eavesdrop on a lifestory, and an amazing phone conversation later, we arrived at Halong Bay where our <span style="font-style: italic;">Junk </span>(Wikipedia folks) awaited. It took only moments to fall in love! Limestone cliffs were jetting out of the water in all directions, the junk was cute and clean, all the bedrooms had windows (Hells no will we be trapped if our boat tries to sink in the middle of the night!) and the weather was looking amazing! After lunch on board, we climbed to the deck and soaked in the rays as we cruised along...perfection. After a great sunset, it took no convincing at all to get the recently showered and changed crew (Sarah and her folks) back into togs (I speak Kiwi very well...!) so we could jump off the roof into the water. I love this bunch!! Before long, most of the boat was jumping, screaming (not me of course...), laughing, swimming. It was one of those trips where the crowd on your boat can make or break the trip---and, our crowd made it! Good work crowd :).<br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-B6Y6IsGstWk/TjS0QEsW9mI/AAAAAAAAAQw/eCeDm1Exkaw/s1600/IMG_0695.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-B6Y6IsGstWk/TjS0QEsW9mI/AAAAAAAAAQw/eCeDm1Exkaw/s320/IMG_0695.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635327221978035810" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Back in Hanoi, I chipped away another piece of my historical ignorance as we visited some key places linked to the Vietnam War. The Hoa Lo Prison, often referred to as the Hanoi Hilton, was a good start and it was interesting to get a different perspective on some of the War details. We also visited the lake where John McCain's plane was shot down and he was captured as a PoW as well as the "B-52 Lake" where you can see the remains of a B-52 that was shot down in 1972. Staring at the remains while having Bruce (Sarah's dad) explain some amazing details to me was an awesome history lesson---and it made me wish that my history teachers would have actually TRIED to get my attention---b/c, clearly, I would have been captivated! Or maybe the Bruce, staring at B-52 combo, was just that awesome!<br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-meA2EnIoqQw/TjS1CQoaxpI/AAAAAAAAARI/rZPo01SxII4/s1600/IMG_0802.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-meA2EnIoqQw/TjS1CQoaxpI/AAAAAAAAARI/rZPo01SxII4/s320/IMG_0802.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635328084176193170" border="0" /></a>All in all, an amazing trip. A great country. Great company. And a complete feeling of comfort because Sarah and her folks (and Sarah's friends) had all lived in or been to Hanoi previously . I didn't have to worry about directions or language barriers or wonder if I was getting ripped off! It took away any possible headache and just left me able to completely enjoy myself! It made me realize that if you know someone living in a foreign country which you may not have otherwise paid a visit to, you should go and take advantage of them being there. I'm just sayin, Ryan,...I speak Thai. I speak Thai real well. ;)Janellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12405369737031873146noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16203399.post-68288573707141733732011-07-14T18:41:00.005+12:002011-07-14T18:57:52.873+12:00Cashmere...In Loving Memory...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UTBwqLSWdHI/Th6PwyI429I/AAAAAAAAAQY/uCzpmBK4f-M/s1600/angel.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 233px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UTBwqLSWdHI/Th6PwyI429I/AAAAAAAAAQY/uCzpmBK4f-M/s320/angel.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629094652515245010" border="0" /></a><br /><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:officedocumentsettings> <o:allowpng/> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:trackmoves/> <w:trackformatting/> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> 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unhidewhenused="false" qformat="true" name="Book Title"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="37" name="Bibliography"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="39" qformat="true" name="TOC Heading"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-priority:99; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin-top:0in; mso-para-margin-right:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt; mso-para-margin-left:0in; line-height:115%; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Cordia New"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi; mso-bidi-language:AR-SA;} </style> <![endif]--> <p>What is it about our pets that totally transforms the way we go at life? What is it about their companionship that makes it impossible to compare to anything else? Why is it that you either get<em> it</em> or you don't?! For what it's worth, I get it. I totally do.</p> <p> </p> <p>I got my first cat when I was 9 years old and I can honestly say that it changed my life from day one. Days filled with cat hair, vet visits, litterbox cleanups, and pre-dawn wake-ups rained down on me (and my parents/brother) and helped mold that 9-year-old-me. My cat, affectionately known as cashmere, cashee, pumpkin face, brat, angel, and sweet face, has seen me through more of my life than most others. We have, quite literally, grown up together. I "put up" with her kitten stage---the constant crying (read: meowing), playfulness and, of course, mischievousness---and, in turn, she put up with my adolescence---meaning, mostly, that she had to endure dress-up, attempted cat-walks, and, perhaps, a (bit) of smothering! We've seen each other through sickness and pain---her years battling a serious case of fleas and ringworm meant hours bonding in the bathroom picking through until every last one was drowned in the toilet. I don't know many cats that would tolerate laying upside down while their mom picked, pulled, and prodded. I think deep down she must have known that it was for her own good. Of course, all that close contact meant that we shared the ringworm that she was infested with, and, I hardly cared. When I was sick, or in tears, my little pumpkin face was never far away. She was never huge with the cuddles, but she made exceptions at times like that and would often lick away my salty tears or lay near for hours, never fully closing her eyes as if keeping a constant watch. She saw me through my teenage years, and, although I wavered from moment to moment, she never did. Sometimes I would tell her I despised her as much as the rents--and sometimes, she was the only one I wanted to be around. One minute she was the target of my teenage angst and the next she was the only reason I wasn't running away in full blown teenage protest. And, in turn, I struggled through her own teenage protests. When she put her guts to the test and wondered beyond the security of home one day, I held on to me "Homeward Bound" fueled hopes while my parents scurried about (I didn't find out until later) with posters, reward promises, and fruitless searches. Nearly a week later as my parents were trying to find the heart to have the "she's-not-coming-home" talk with me, my little brat surfaced. She was found---a bit more dirty, humble and thin--but found! As my teenage moodiness faded into young-adult heartache, she was always there. She sat, she listened, she joined me for nights filled with ice cream and movies (so what if she only stayed because I shared my ice cream with her)! She saw me off to college and was always waiting for my return so she could once again wake me at 5am with her "play-with-me" meows.</p><p> As old age began taking it's toll, she went through an "I-forget-where-to-pee" stage---a stage which never phased me and which my dad graciously accepted without much fuss. Her kidneys needed convincing to stay strong which turned me and, in my absence, my dad, into expert kidney healers. When the call came that he thought her time was coming to a close---weight loss, weakness, lack of purring, we knew without hesitation that we wanted to send her off peacefully before the pain kicked in. And, although I'm at peace with it, a little piece of my heart has gone with my baby. I wish that I could have been there to kiss her little nose one last time---but, knowing that she was in good hands makes it easier to accept. Although I hate that dad had to go through the process alone, it's symbolic in ways---I remember so clearly the site of tiny, kitten, Cashmere in my dad's big, strong, hands----and, it puts my heart at ease visualizing her slipping peacefully away in the same hands that held her tiny body (nearly) 20 years before. And knowing that Dr. T and Jenna, the nurse and Doctor that I've come to know and love over the years, were there for her in her final moments fills my heart with relief.<br /></p><p> It's amazing how much joy my fur-ball brought to my life. I'll never forget the day there was a meowing towel under the Christmas tree, when, in an instant, that meowing towel changed my life forever!!</p><p>You will never be forgotten Cashee! <span style="font-style: italic;"></span><br /></p>Janellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12405369737031873146noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16203399.post-73816453606239435822011-06-26T13:49:00.004+12:002011-06-26T15:40:40.841+12:00Let's hear it for NEW YORK...!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d3-Em1qAW1s/TgajwPiLx_I/AAAAAAAAAQQ/0SQG4B2DcIA/s1600/Statue_of_Liberty_FREE_l.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d3-Em1qAW1s/TgajwPiLx_I/AAAAAAAAAQQ/0SQG4B2DcIA/s320/Statue_of_Liberty_FREE_l.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5622361234017601522" border="0" /></a><br />I should be honest from the start, I've never really been a big advocate for gay rights, gay marriage, gay anything....I kind of felt like just "mixing in" would be more powerful then anything. A way, in sorts, to prove that we really aren't different at all. I always believed that breaking down stereotypes one ignorant person at a time would be much more effective then covering myself in rainbows while declaring to the world that I'm "gay and proud"...and pissed off. But, as I find myself singing Alicia Keys (and Jay Z's) song...again...I realize how proud I am for this moment. Proud to be a part of changing times...proud that it's going in this direction...proud that it's, well, NEW YORK! At times I feel ashamed for not doing more. When amazing people step up and "fight the fight" that isn't even, technically, 'theirs', I feel like I'm taking the easy way out, just waiting...waiting to reap the benefits. But, I know that I make tiny changes in the world immediately around me and, in time, with enough people doing that, it does actually make a difference. But, it makes me appreciate those people who are getting, well, "loud" in a way that I never used to appreciate them. When people like Claire Buffie, my good friend's lil' sister, and former Miss NY choose "Straight for Equality: Let's Talk" as a pageant platform, it's incredibly moving. Filled with love for her sister, her family, and driven by a dream of equality, Claire tackled<span style="font-style: italic;"> real</span> issues with real elegance and passion. She never cowered in the face of adversity (and she faced a lot) and, I believe, brave people like Claire had a big influence on this change. It makes me proud...proud of Claire on a personal level, but also proud to be a part of a society that includes people like her. Looking at it from this perspective feels good---feels much better then looking at the half empty glass of "well, if ignorant assholes didn't exist, it wouldn't be such a big fight...". That view still exists within me, but, as time passes, as more and more people step up to fight these kinds of things, and, as change actually occurs, I find that, along with everything else in life, having the glass half full is so much more joyful.<br /><br />And although I am happy that the possibility exists (obviously), no, I will not be running off to NY to get married (yet)! But, my love goes out to all those committed, loving couples who will now be able to express their love in a way they always dreamed. You deserve it.Janellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12405369737031873146noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16203399.post-75468780650615734492011-04-27T08:44:00.012+12:002011-05-18T00:17:59.029+12:00The beauty around us<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3KZ6spPv04k/TdJnZoMHMtI/AAAAAAAAAP4/DF-Y-Pe6k84/s1600/IMG_0739.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3KZ6spPv04k/TdJnZoMHMtI/AAAAAAAAAP4/DF-Y-Pe6k84/s320/IMG_0739.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5607658176012301010" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7qzY4cgJYKM/TdJTHfLcrjI/AAAAAAAAAPw/4jEYl5gGSUs/s1600/IMG_0706.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7qzY4cgJYKM/TdJTHfLcrjI/AAAAAAAAAPw/4jEYl5gGSUs/s320/IMG_0706.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5607635874123394610" border="0" /></a><br />My recent trip back to the U S of A has been great. But, instead of giving you the play by play, I wanted to share some random tidbits. Over the course of my holiday, I witnessed, experienced, and felt many <span style="font-style: italic;">beautiful</span> things. Some truly remarkable and others humorously simple, but all took my attention fully and led me into some sort of reflection....it's these type of things that rarely get the attention they deserve...so, here's giving an extra moment of notice...<br /><br />The newly weds (Jay and Kaleigh) enclose a bottle of wine (representing their relationship...one that will age well and get better with time) along with notes to one another inside a box. The box, wine, and letters are to be opened on their 10th anniversary.<br /><br />My cousin, who suffered a stroke several years ago which resulted in partial paralysis, briefly left her cane and (balance guide) dog behind so she could share a dance with her newlywed son.<br /><br />Lizards. (okay, let me explain). I was sitting outside and this random lizard totally captivated me. I sat there, staring at this prehistoric looking thing and was transported to my childhood. I used to (regularly) catch them and make them bite my ears. Just like that, I had a pair of earrings. A part of me wanted to reach out and grab the lizard---but, I know, even if I decided to do it, I would have hesitated to catch it....let alone let the freakin' thing bite my ear. It made me appreciate my fearless younger self.<br /><br />Nearly 6 months after being diagnosed with lung cancer and being told he had only weeks to live, my grandfather has tackled cruises and road trips and is making preparations for his November "I'm still here" party.<br /><br />Carrots. Fresh from my brother's garden.<br /><br />Jetblue. If you don't agree, try Air Asia as a budget air option and get back to me.<br /><br />Enjoying Jamie's chicken and dumplings in the company of 4 people who have known me longer (and better) than most others.<br /><br />Listening to my 98 year old great, great uncle retell the story about the time he came to our Christmas Party and we got him drunk.<br /><br />Watching my friend---who kicks ass at being a vet---kick ass at being a mom even more.<br /><br />Sitting on my bro's dock, watching the sunset, with him and mom, while trying to understand why the ducks found it absolutely necessary to get on the dock the moment we were sitting there.<br /><br />Sitting next to my 19 year old cat, watching her doze off into a snore...<br /><br />Being the first to occupy the guestroom in Jo and Ty's new house...and being around 2 people who make it easy to believe in love.<br /><br />Sitting business class!! (ah, the beauty of knowing people in the industry! ;) )<br /><br />Baking a cake with Grandma.<br /><br />Eating breakfast with pops and getting the tour of the garden.<br /><br />Closing down the wedding dance floor with some kind of crazy swaying, jumping, swinging, rocking moves---with all the cousins---led by GG.<br /><br />Having a completely random Easter gathering at the park with GG and all her grandchildren that ended in a big soccer game. If only we had taken that picture...!Janellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12405369737031873146noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16203399.post-35014875817597266442011-03-22T19:10:00.008+13:002011-04-30T07:31:59.320+12:00STOP...and smell the fish balls!Time flies when you're having fun! A Christmas trip to Nepal (with some great peeps), several weekend getaways/day trips (to take advantage of some amazing weather), some intense job-hunting, and a 10 day whirlwind adventure with visiting friends has come and gone---and Borneo sits on the horizon (2 more days to be exact!). The last few months have brought endless smiles to my heart and sometimes I need to find the time to sit back, take a breath, and fully appreciate all that I've done.<br /><br />Mount Everest and the Himalayan mountains greeted our plane on Christmas day and shortly after, Fern and I were enjoying mulled wine with Kerry, Steph, and Dave in Kathmandu, Nepal. It was a beautiful (and unique) way to celebrate Christmas! We received our hiking itinerary that day and all had a good (nervous) laugh about the 6-day adventure that awaited us...including at least 1 day of "straight up". Awesome. --The trekking was great, although a bit exhausting (okay, maybe that's an understatement!) the scenery was amazing, and---, with our group, never a dull moment! Between the 5 of us, we had 3 porters and a guide---so, thankfully, we were only responsible for carrying our day packs!! Don't judge! We arrived to Ghorepani 2 days after we set off and were greeted by the snow-peaked Annapurna mountains against the setting sun---calling it beautiful would be a harsh understatement! Especially after we walked 2 days to get there! For Kerry and I the excitement was short lived and both of us would pay a rough price for making the wrong choice as dinner time. Our itinerary shifted, we hardly moved from bed all day (except to get sick of course), and our nurses (i.e. Fern and Steph) were gracious enough to take frequent breaks from their book reading, site seeing, weather-enjoying day to take care of us sickies! We were back on the trail the next day for what was arguable the most beautiful and real part of the trek. This less traveled track winded us through a local village, over and around rice terraces, through herds of sheep and buffalo and past the local people going about their lives. It was a great day-after-feeling-like-crap trek! All in all, the trip to Nepal was much too short to appreciate all it has to offer but we got a taste of it---especially of the amazing hiking. The end of the trail was bitter sweet and we missed the mountainous surrounds immediately...but our legs...and all that lactic acid thanked us for the break!<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XvEEW3DapTo/TYilTm_pvKI/AAAAAAAAANA/rjFyVaEsvpY/s1600/Nepal%2B2010%2B498%2B-%2BLR%2BMod.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XvEEW3DapTo/TYilTm_pvKI/AAAAAAAAANA/rjFyVaEsvpY/s320/Nepal%2B2010%2B498%2B-%2BLR%2BMod.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5586897094056721570" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RCjsFWhjFNc/TYilt37Ci5I/AAAAAAAAANI/BkmyAFGC--8/s1600/IMG_1395.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RCjsFWhjFNc/TYilt37Ci5I/AAAAAAAAANI/BkmyAFGC--8/s320/IMG_1395.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5586897545277377426" border="0" /></a><br />After the Christmas holiday, I returned to work to finish out the term with my "graduating" K3's. It was an emotional moment---my first ever K1 class all grown up and leaving K3. I can't believe how fast the time has gone. Although I've been job searching and will continue to search, I've decided, after a good deal/offer from my current employer, that I'll be staying put for now. Next term will offer me a chance to make some changes to the overall curriculum which will be a great chance to gain some experience. As for now, I'm enjoying my time off---but, as always, I'm missing my crazy kids already!<br /><br />Jose and Alexis have just left and I think I'm still in shock that I ever went to the airport to get them in the first place!! I have to admit that I never really expected the "yeah, I'm thinking of coming to visit" to materialize---so, when I learned that it was...for BOTH of them...I was so excited!! I loved inviting them into my world and showing them around. Lots of laughs (Dearest Scotsman with the Bangkok Belly---squatting toilets are for SQUATTING...not sitting! HA) and good times...and, perhaps for one, a newly ignited fire for travel! You know where to find a travel buddy Jose!<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fAIoPWKZut0/TYim56wiGaI/AAAAAAAAANQ/B999y5q3gYc/s1600/IMG_3994.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fAIoPWKZut0/TYim56wiGaI/AAAAAAAAANQ/B999y5q3gYc/s320/IMG_3994.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5586898851708672418" border="0" /></a>Borneo is next on the list and we head out on Thursday! We'll be traveling our way around Sabah making sure to fit in diving and snorkeling at Mabul and Sipidan islands, river cruising in search of wild animals, visiting the orangutans, and trekking around Mount Kinabalu. Bring on the jungle...bring on the river...bring on the clear blue seas!! Will post pictures when I return in April.Janellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12405369737031873146noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16203399.post-22894327583777809672010-11-28T15:38:00.026+13:002011-01-06T23:52:24.528+13:00Serenity, Balance, and life in between<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tkC_8NVx3Bk/TSWa6FKwVGI/AAAAAAAAAMs/JkLEtQCyngs/s1600/IMG_1721.JPG"><br /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tkC_8NVx3Bk/TROAAvIF2lI/AAAAAAAAAMk/Kl-dDGNGPZ0/s1600/IMG_0274.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tkC_8NVx3Bk/TROAAvIF2lI/AAAAAAAAAMk/Kl-dDGNGPZ0/s320/IMG_0274.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553923515616713298" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tkC_8NVx3Bk/TRN_AiB0zKI/AAAAAAAAAMc/O5gREPD-Yk0/s1600/68841_572212264901_3001224_33205740_5861520_n.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tkC_8NVx3Bk/TRN_AiB0zKI/AAAAAAAAAMc/O5gREPD-Yk0/s320/68841_572212264901_3001224_33205740_5861520_n.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553922412589141154" border="0" /></a><br />I'd like to note that I'm currently writing to the sweet sounds of Clory Martin (a Rice teammates' voice)...and you should check her out. :)<br />http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2105088&id=3001224&saved#!/pages/Clory-Martin/96964545642<br /><br />The words and thoughts have been swimming wildly through my mind and show no sign of stopping. I usually wait until things come to some sort of order in my head before I put it to paper. But I'm beginning to give up hope that any sort of order will arise this time. So, here goes.<br /><br />My last blog had a lot to do with life outside the box, pushing boundaries and limits and seeing things in this world that you can't learn in text books. About challenging ignorance and slipping outside of the mold of society. I am so thankful that the last few years have really given me the opportunity to do that but, for the first time ever, and with the aid of being "home" for the first time in a long time, I was exposed to the painful side of living this way. Until I made sense of what I was feeling, me and 'home' seemed to collide head on. The excess, the greed, the blindness was all around me---it was in the huge houses, the million dollar yachts, the wastefulness, the seemingly care-less (if not completely ignorant) conversations and mutterings all around me. I felt a cloud shadowing over me...frustration, anger, sadness... and it was hard to shake. My serenity seemed to be drowning in a sea of emotions that I couldn't quite make sense of. But with the help and love of my family and friends (probably little to their knowledge), I regained that serenity, re-found that place of peace, and was once again feeling balanced. I embraced the realization that, although I have opened my eyes and heart to the suffering around the world (not to mention the shocking way we treat the earth), it doesn't, in effect, mean I have to close my heart to other aspects of life. It doesn't have to overpower all else, doesn't have to deem the 'simple pleasures in life' trivial, unworthy, or unjustified. In fact, on the contrary, it's these simple pleasures that make the fight worth fighting, and, as I'm learning, losing sight of them is losing sight of everything. Being in the presence of things that are truly beautiful in their own ways---no matter how simplistic or how (seemingly) extravagant, was much needed. Being reunited with my 18 year old cat, enjoying drinks and easy laughs with friends and family, cooking (and EATING), scuba diving, witnessing an exchange of vows (http://www.ourlaboroflove.com/showit/molly_and_amber/), bike riding, enjoying the fall season, walking the Freedom Trail...<br />For a bit, I allowed myself to slip passed serenity--- <span style="font-style: italic;">how can I possibly enjoy "this" when "that" is happening?! How can I possibly be having "this" conversation when "that" needs discussing?! How can I possibly be eating like "this" when others are eating (or not) like "that"?! How can I possibly be doing "this" when it's contributing to "that"?! </span>All these questions and concerns will remain within me---but, as I'm learning, they don't have to consume me. A balance <span style="font-style: italic;">can</span> actually exist and, once I realized that, I again started seeing the beauty...the beauty without the shadow, or perhaps, <span style="font-style: italic;">despite</span> the shadow. I will continue to strive for this balance---I will continue to push myself (and hopefully those around me) to be better---better consumers with a better awareness of ourselves and others---and I will hopefully always continue to push some kind of comfort zone, question and challenge ignorant-driven fears---but at the same time, I can't allow the resulting feelings, experiences or opinions completely overshadow all else---especially when it hinders my ability to enjoy those simple pleasures that, frankly, are worth enjoying...<br /><br /><br />I used to to believe that I was "stuck" somewhere between wanting to (settle down and) start a garden and wanting to travel the world. But, I've realize that I don't actually have to be "stuck" between---a balance can actually exist, and, as it turns out, both can happen simultaneously...<br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tkC_8NVx3Bk/TRC-BncqrRI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/akgf1BsrKSA/s1600/IMG_0859.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tkC_8NVx3Bk/TRC-BncqrRI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/akgf1BsrKSA/s320/IMG_0859.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553147275526188306" border="0" /></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tkC_8NVx3Bk/TSWa6FKwVGI/AAAAAAAAAMs/JkLEtQCyngs/s1600/IMG_1721.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tkC_8NVx3Bk/TSWa6FKwVGI/AAAAAAAAAMs/JkLEtQCyngs/s320/IMG_1721.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5559019637669123170" border="0" /></a><br />Happy holidays to everyone! I will be in Kathmandu, Nepal for Christmas and ringing in 2011 from top the Himalayas! Stand by for pics! Also, I have FINALLY got a good internet connection. I am once again connected into shutterfly (www.janellecrowley.shutterfly.com) and will once again be keeping my pics up to date there for those of you that are not a part of the facebook world (Grandma, GG!). Love to all.Janellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12405369737031873146noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16203399.post-79909527002672379612010-08-15T04:16:00.012+12:002010-08-16T16:49:35.550+12:00Why thank you, world, for being my oyster!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tkC_8NVx3Bk/TGbFfLa9kXI/AAAAAAAAAL4/p_aSmgk-ahE/s1600/DSC03769.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tkC_8NVx3Bk/TGbFfLa9kXI/AAAAAAAAAL4/p_aSmgk-ahE/s320/DSC03769.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5505304733939503474" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tkC_8NVx3Bk/TGbFV-jyjHI/AAAAAAAAALw/Q4Zfv0XbLZM/s1600/11855_549931805121_3001224_32470072_3834713_n.jpg"><br /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tkC_8NVx3Bk/TGbFIVxq5RI/AAAAAAAAALo/K1t_ssmKllU/s1600/n3001224_31848259_2601.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tkC_8NVx3Bk/TGbFIVxq5RI/AAAAAAAAALo/K1t_ssmKllU/s320/n3001224_31848259_2601.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5505304341582112018" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tkC_8NVx3Bk/TGbCvphSGzI/AAAAAAAAALg/U7KlPYc725A/s1600/11855_549831675781_3001224_32467624_5071540_n.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tkC_8NVx3Bk/TGbCvphSGzI/AAAAAAAAALg/U7KlPYc725A/s320/11855_549831675781_3001224_32467624_5071540_n.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5505301718362102578" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tkC_8NVx3Bk/TGbBc_oDmnI/AAAAAAAAALA/A6IlbIxnL9s/s1600/11855_549931805121_3001224_32470072_3834713_n.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tkC_8NVx3Bk/TGbBc_oDmnI/AAAAAAAAALA/A6IlbIxnL9s/s320/11855_549931805121_3001224_32470072_3834713_n.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5505300298366950002" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tkC_8NVx3Bk/TGayVgGJHLI/AAAAAAAAAKw/_HqF6zQJ_IA/s1600/11855_549831675781_3001224_32467624_5071540_n.jpg"><br /></a><br />World. International. Travel. A few years ago, it was nothing more than a section of the newspaper that I would casually and carelessly toss to the side. I even remember a much younger me uttering the words “how does this even affect me??” when asked why I didn’t care to read. Now, I’m here. Set loose in the world that, at one time in my life, I barely knew existed. Names that were once nothing more than a bunch of letters haphazardly put together to form some kind of unpronounceable word now roll of my tongue with familiarity, understanding and ease. When tragedy strikes in areas that we’ve never heard of, never been to, never cared to read about in the paper, it’s easier to keep a distance. It’s easier to pay some money to the cause and continue on our daily lives. When we hear our government, friends, or neighbors utter hurtful words about another race, religion, culture, country, it’s easier to jump on board, never challenging the ignorance that is driving the bandwagon. When terror strikes, it’s easier to point fingers, devise plans, create an environment in which hatred thrives. But somewhere along the line, someone else's word just wasn’t good enough anymore. I wanted to experience, breath, look, live, <span style="font-style: italic;">be</span>-- outside of my own box---and see things through a heart wide open. Two years, 3 months, and 8 days ago, I set out on a journey that I hoped would help do just that, and the resulting experiences have been nothing short of amazing. And, although my journey is far from over, an increasingly consistent pull to again plant my feet in familiar soil beckons me to reflect, write, reminisce.<br />These chapters of my life have taken me through 7 countries, 7 (fascinating) cultures---they have opened up endless opportunities, challenged me to embrace the world and <span style="font-style: italic;">all</span> the people in it, including myself. They have taken me through love—and heartache and every other emotion on the scale of emotions. I have been repelled by <span style="font-style: italic;">home</span> and have longed for <span style="font-style: italic;">home</span>. I have seen the things they omit from textbooks and have been repeatedly shocked by the capability of the human race---both positively, and negatively. I have met amazing people along the way who will forever be imprinted upon my heart. I have learned to work a little less hard (for those that really know me, you know this, actually, is a very good thing!). I have learned to trust my gut, and trust---people. I have learned the true power behind a smile and have learned the depth of peacefulness lurking in a simple meditation. I have, to sum it up, been on one hell of a ride.<br /><br />A few powerful tidbits that really affected me:<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Laos:</span> UXO. An acronym that I never knew existed prior to setting foot in the country and one in which would have been impossible to ignore once there. UXO stands for unexploded ordinances---bombs that were dropped and failed to explode on impact during the Vietnam war remain highly active throughout the country. Straying from the path anywhere in Laos is tempting fate, and, as a foreigner, is unthinkable without a highly knowledgeable guide. However, everyday people have no choice---it’s their land, their farms, their roads, their schools and even today, people are dying every single day when this UXO awakens from its 35 year slumber.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Cambodia:</span> The killing fields and S-21 school-turned-torture prison which showed the horrors of Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge. Learning of such a horrific past while simultaneously being exposed to an amazingly uplifting, hopeful, and strong population/culture has created a humbleness that has seeped deep into my pores.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />South Africa:</span> Life in the townships is shocking and inhumane---especially since much of it is the results of District 6 being declared a “white’s only” area. Touring this amazing country gave me the opportunity to gain a better understanding and appreciation for what Nelson Mandela (and SO many others) were fighting for, and against.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Indonesia: </span> In 18 short days, my preconceived notions and fears were effectively shattered by a very open and friendly culture. I received a bracelet from a random stranger that, at first I was scared to wear (why did he just give it to me then disappear?!), and now don’t want to take off. I hope it continues to serve as a reminder not to give in to ignorant driven fears about a country, culture, race, religion.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Philippines: </span> Whale Sharks. They are, I’m quite certain, 1 of the most beautiful, amazing, breath-taking animals I have ever seen. When Ange and I spent 3 days in the water with them, I felt as though I was flying. It was unexplainable. Except for the times when we looked at other boats---at 1 time, there were nearly 10 boats around a single shark. The government has set specific rules for “engagement” --1 boat per shark, 3 divers per side, no touching, no blocking—however, these are only loosely followed. I want future generations to have the opportunity to experience these amazing creatures—so I hope the importance of these rules is discovered---and soon, before it’s too late (and no, this is not a dramatic exaggeration).<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Namibia:</span> The simplicity of life in a village is something we can all learn a little something from. I got a tiny glimpse into the importance of greeting, being, singing, dancing, and loving. Ironically (or not…), some of the most materialistically poor people in the world taught me a little something about living a rich and meaningful life…and furthered my belief that cultivating a simple lifestyle can be a very powerful thing.<br /><br />(Thailand will have to be its own blog/book one day!)<br /><br />Most importantly, I’ve learned—and have completely embraced the fact that there is <span style="font-style: italic;">always</span> more to see, learn, experience, share and, no matter where my journey takes me next, I hope I never forget….Janellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12405369737031873146noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16203399.post-38686090489962734382010-06-12T22:12:00.003+12:002010-06-12T22:16:23.301+12:00Such is Life...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tkC_8NVx3Bk/TBNd0SrJnsI/AAAAAAAAAKo/KU_znGdtab8/s1600/IMG_5460.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tkC_8NVx3Bk/TBNd0SrJnsI/AAAAAAAAAKo/KU_znGdtab8/s320/IMG_5460.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5481828324387430082" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tkC_8NVx3Bk/TBNdtc5Y2uI/AAAAAAAAAKg/aRUKroigmY4/s1600/crowley.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tkC_8NVx3Bk/TBNdtc5Y2uI/AAAAAAAAAKg/aRUKroigmY4/s320/crowley.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5481828206872419042" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">The last few months have been a bit of a roller coaster and selfishly, I had to get some of it out---so here I am using, if not abusing, my blog spot! This is aimed at close friends and family---if you don’t fit into that category, it might be in your best interest to take a rain check until next blog! </span><br /><br />The smoke has cleared and a bit of normalcy has started to return to the place I call home. I’m once again beginning to feel as though I’m in the ‘land of smiles’, and, although I’m not naïve enough to believe this is the end, it’s nice to see that the small things I love about this place are again taking form. The protests in Bangkok turned a bit heartbreaking in April, casting a bit of a shadow on an otherwise AMAZING vacation to the Philippines. It was a contrast that left both Ange and I a bit heavy hearted----coming out of the water (for example) from a swim with whale sharks to a text update from our friends in Bangkok. Things seemed to get progressively worse, but didn’t really start to peak until May 14th---we got sent home early from work, and collectively prepared to ‘bunk down’ for the weekend, allowing space for the chaos that would most likely follow a militant step-up. Luckily, my apartment is far away enough from the main area that I felt safe at home. For too many others this wasn’t the case, and my heart continues to go out to those more directly affected---those that undoubtedly can’t afford their losses. 2 friends, both who lived in a designated “live fire zone” relocated to my place---and I’m so thankful they did. Not only for their own safety, but for my own sanity. The weekend soon gave way to the week---which was declared a public holiday---with a strictly enforced curfew. The aura around everything and everyone changed drastically. Chaos. Pain. Fear. Hate. Things that I would never previously use to describe Thailand or the people here. I spent too much time sitting in the windowsill of my apartment watching the smoke take over the Bangkok skyline. Too much time watching the news or just listening to the sounds outside. It brought things way too close to home and my heart was breaking for the country, for my friends and their families, for my students. Thailand vowed to step up—starting with a “together we can” campaign which brought thousands of people to the streets to help clean up the aftermath. Although it was a hopeful sign and a moving outcome, the aftermath can’t as easily be wiped from memories, hearts, or…the economy. The country continues to struggle---and I continue to feel a bit helpless---but I will continue to hope….and ask that you do too.<br /><br />I also wanted to remind everyone at home how much I’ve been there in spirit over the last few months. It’s never easy being so far from loved ones, but the last few months have proved to be especially challenging.<br /><br />Christel’s father passed away on May 28th, and although I only briefly met him, I know that Christel gets her “french kiss life” attitude from somewhere. One of the many times recently I’ve wanted to ‘beam’ myself home. Love you honey.<br /><br />Jo’s father lost his battle with cancer on June 8th and it has been incredibly difficult for me to be “absent” during this time. Her father was an amazing man, who I feel privileged to have known, and whose spirit, charm, wit, humour (and so much more) will live on in his daughters and grandchildren. Joseph, I hope you continue to feel my love and support from oceans away.<br /><br />Also, this has been a very difficult time for my family, as my grandfather (lovingly known to his grandchildren as “pop-pop”) passed away on June 11. It was something we were prepared for, and he had a great life---touching all our lives in so many ways---but being unable to be there for him, for my dad, my grandmother, my family, has been incredibly painful. I love you all and hope you know that you continue to be in my everyday.<br /><br />And, on the flip side of emotions, MB (one of my Aussie 5) is now wed, and Ry has completed ---no, no…kicked the ass of---his first ever marathon. 2 events that I was there for in spirit. Miss you guys.<br /><br />My visit home in October will be much needed (to say the least) and I’m really looking forward to seeing and hugging everyone. It has been far too long! And, am super excited for Beans (uh, sorry…that would be ‘Molly’ to everyone but me and NZ peeps!)…WEDDING!! Her and Amber will be tying the knot Oct. 30th and they may possible make the most beautiful pair of lobsters ever. I hope my date (cough, cough…you better not sell me out!) brings me a lot of Kleenex…not sure who was lucky enough to sit next to me at Kev and James wedding, but, they’ll tell you that I’m ridiculous when it comes to this stuff! ! I’m ready to share some long overdue love, hugs, laughs, and cries….But, perhaps I should mention, in order to end (parental) speculation, as of now, my visit home in October is just that…a visit!<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Any support you can give to my friend Jo would be amazing---she is doing an amazing thing for an amazing cause.</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">http://www.pmc.org/profile/JR0290<br /></span>Janellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12405369737031873146noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16203399.post-29746219980208799252010-01-03T21:42:00.005+13:002010-03-13T16:40:08.988+13:00That's how we roll...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tkC_8NVx3Bk/S5sI6k2LFfI/AAAAAAAAAKA/6RkyMZHMDI4/s1600-h/IMG_0812.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tkC_8NVx3Bk/S5sI6k2LFfI/AAAAAAAAAKA/6RkyMZHMDI4/s320/IMG_0812.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447957976651077106" border="0" /></a> fish pedicure!<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tkC_8NVx3Bk/S5sIQPobMwI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/gYf02k5UL1Q/s1600-h/IMG_0826.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tkC_8NVx3Bk/S5sIQPobMwI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/gYf02k5UL1Q/s320/IMG_0826.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447957249401762562" border="0" /></a><br />Dad and Kim arrived on the 26th (of December---a little slow on the delivery---sorry!) and it was so great seeing them in the airport! They bunked up for the week in the apartment that is across the hall from mine and it was a blast! Almost like being back in college. Wondering between the 2 rooms---often settling in the one that had the aircon (AC) set to high. Whether I've gotten used to the heat or whether I'm still just my typical frugal self is up for debate---but I'll give you one guess who's apartment had the aircon on full blast! If there was a theme for the visit, it would most definitely be "THAT'S HOW WE ROLL". I wanted to really give them a taste for how I live---how I travel---how I "roll" if you will ;)!) The next morning, I threw them right into the rush, heat and craziness of it all with a visit to Chatachuk market and watched as they processed everything. And, much to their credit, they didn't miss a beat! From stall fruit to meals from the vendors, they jumped in without looking back! They started immediately with the language and, while pops may argue that he is already sounding like a local, some locals may disagree---much to the comic relief of everyone involved! After the market, I ran off for my 2nd airport visit in as many days (for those of you who dread airport visits, try living in a foreign country and waiting almost 2 years before you have guests---then tell me how much you're dreading it! It rocked my world!). I thought I'd have to carry Sarah to the taxi b/c, after living in a Namibian village (see previous blog!) for nearly 2 years, her reaction to this craziness left her with a look that may have mirrored the look I gave her 2 months prior while watching a goat-named-Simon being killed! Spent a little bit of time "in the neighborhood" showing them my day to day before heading off to Ayuttuya where we rode bikes and boats to explore the ruins of the old capital city. Khanchanburi was the next stop and it was great to get away from the city life for a bit. Our guesthouse was right on the River Kwai with a view of the 'Bridge over the River Kwai'. And when I say "on", I really mean ON. The room was on a raft in the water....meaning that every time a boat went past, the room rocked! I had told Dad and Kim about such rooms before we arrived but didn't realize they would get to experience it first hand! Troopers! We explored Erawan Naional Park---and got to enjoy the chill from the waterfall pools. Ahhh! The pools, much to our surprise, also doubled as a "fish pedicure"---which is actually something you can pay for in Thailand. You pay to stick your feet in a pool of little fish that nibble all the dead skin off. Well, why pay when they do it for free here?! That's how we roll :)! Pops and I had trouble sitting still---but Kim was all over it! She didn't even flinch! Back in Bangkok, we met up with Jacyln and did a night rivercruise down the Chao Phraya river while, of course, enjoying MORE food! I headed back to work while they headed south to the beaches to get a bit of luxury....which, I think they got plenty of. (Though, they got so used to "that's how we roll" that I think they missed the neighborhood---and were well aware when they were being over charged for something! Local knowledge is a beautiful thing!). They got to join me for one of my classes on their last day here and it was great! Of course my kids were loving having them around--. I even threw them into the mix for our "who stole the cookie" song! All smiles! A great visit! I loved sharing my life here and love knowing that whenever I talk about something they can picture it! But the room across the hall has felt a bit empty every since!<br /><br />The other half of the parentals is scheduled to arrive in 4 days!! Wahoo! The plan, at this point, is dependent on what happens with the red shirt rallies. And, while I don't feel threatened, they can make travel/transportation a nightmare---. So, still playing things by ear---but crossing fingers things will be settled in a few days!Janellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12405369737031873146noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16203399.post-59476561671474891412010-01-02T23:55:00.020+13:002010-01-03T02:47:12.308+13:00Life in a Namibian village<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span></div><blockquote><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">"The secret of happiness, you see, is not found in seeking more, but in developing the capacity to enjoy less."</span><br /></div></blockquote><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tkC_8NVx3Bk/Sz9LfvKe6QI/AAAAAAAAAJo/zJcC8U_Yu4A/s1600-h/IMG_2330.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tkC_8NVx3Bk/Sz9LfvKe6QI/AAAAAAAAAJo/zJcC8U_Yu4A/s320/IMG_2330.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422135484985829634" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tkC_8NVx3Bk/Sz85UBXWUMI/AAAAAAAAAIo/rlhl_A5hC9o/s1600-h/IMG_2015.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tkC_8NVx3Bk/Sz85UBXWUMI/AAAAAAAAAIo/rlhl_A5hC9o/s320/IMG_2015.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422115492503900354" border="0" /></a><br />I step off of the plane and practically land in Sarah's arms, immediately laughing at my growing anticipation of not being able to find her in this airport, which, turns out, is about the size of my palm. Our journey begins immediately as we hop into a stranger's car (I can hear the "oh God's"....just remember, I lived to blog about it!) bound for Windhoek, Namibia. Our final destination is Nkurenkuru, a tiny village in the North of Namibia where Sarah has been living, working, and 'greeting' for nearly 2 years (though Peace Corps). It takes us about 4 "legs" (aka, different rides) and 8 hours to get there. Everyone in this country hitchhikes and I'm in awe of the secret language (there is a whole series of hand signals), the generosity, and the effectiveness (ok, so maybe we just had some great luck!) of it all. When we arrive in Nkurenkuru, I am immediately taken for, and welcomed as, Sarah's sister. I'm thrown into the village pace of life---meaning that I sit. And greet. And sit some more. It's amazing. Everything out here seems raw, real....and I'm taking it all in. I'm invited to attend a celebration to honour the naming of (little) Sarah---a baby that is a few months old and has been named after (big) Sarah.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tkC_8NVx3Bk/Sz86IPBNy4I/AAAAAAAAAIw/X3llx_O17D8/s1600-h/IMG_2053.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tkC_8NVx3Bk/Sz86IPBNy4I/AAAAAAAAAIw/X3llx_O17D8/s320/IMG_2053.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422116389522361218" border="0" /></a>I sit, not only accepting, but loving, the fact that often, the only thing we have to exchange is smiles, body language and food. A friend of (big) Sarah's acts as a translator, but there are times when translation is unnecessary and, just being is...just fine. A goat is killed for the celebration and, although I struggle a bit with this fact, I embrace the circle of life and wish all goats the life that this one had. (I will dispense details about the naming of said goat and my near-death experience while "watching" the slaughter on a first come first serve basis :) Though, the stories are best told with my sidekick!). I look around and feel as though I have stepped onto the pages of a National Geographic. Beyond this small enclave of mud huts where dinner is currently being prepared, there is nothing but open land, free roaming goats and chickens, a magical sunset, and the sound of nature. We eat, we laugh, we sing, we dance. It's simple. It's beautiful. It's heartwarming. If this is poverty, we could all use a bit more of it in our lives.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tkC_8NVx3Bk/Sz87njQBitI/AAAAAAAAAI4/o-MxLvnHef0/s1600-h/IMG_1992.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tkC_8NVx3Bk/Sz87njQBitI/AAAAAAAAAI4/o-MxLvnHef0/s320/IMG_1992.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422118027040754386" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: left;">The next day we sit with our feet in the dirt and a grass roof over our heads as 100+ church gatherers sing their thanks to God. Although some of the events of the day are, well, hilarious (think skirts and on-the-spot-singing--), overall it was an incredibly moving experience. We are sitting in this moment, with some of the most materialistically poor people in the world, learning how to be grateful. And let me tell you, we have a lot to learn. The sound of their unified voices is nothing short of amazing and the energy they disperse is contagious (a fact that made standing in front of them to sing that much more mortifying---love ya Sarah!). The service goes on for over 4 hours. There is singing, dancing, praying, laughing, loving, offering, and through it all, an overwhelming feeling of welcomeness. They even go so far as to translate everything into English for us.<br /><div style="text-align: left;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tkC_8NVx3Bk/Sz8-PozNZVI/AAAAAAAAAJA/Qw_qyeyf_g0/s1600-h/IMG_2157.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 304px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tkC_8NVx3Bk/Sz8-PozNZVI/AAAAAAAAAJA/Qw_qyeyf_g0/s320/IMG_2157.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422120914748532050" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tkC_8NVx3Bk/Sz8-_OUTCUI/AAAAAAAAAJI/Me2f_LKOwos/s1600-h/IMG_2175.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tkC_8NVx3Bk/Sz8-_OUTCUI/AAAAAAAAAJI/Me2f_LKOwos/s320/IMG_2175.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422121732273277250" border="0" /></a><br />Over the next few days, I'm greeted endlessly with smiles and handshakes. The neighborhood kids constantly come by to play, talk, laugh, ride bikes (The bikes in the pictures and in this village are the outcome of one of Sarah's projects which has supplied transportation to the village along with a job/income/sense of independence to those that currently run the place). Their laughter and dancing is impossibly forgettable and, after only 1.5 weeks in their company, I find myself longing to be amongst their glowing spirits once again.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tkC_8NVx3Bk/Sz9Dr1qv-oI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/C68AT6xgppk/s1600-h/IMG_1923.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tkC_8NVx3Bk/Sz9Dr1qv-oI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/C68AT6xgppk/s320/IMG_1923.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422126896797186690" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tkC_8NVx3Bk/Sz9EfM12AtI/AAAAAAAAAJY/V-7KgQ8Gi_k/s1600-h/11855_549935083551_3001224_32470233_2612184_n.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tkC_8NVx3Bk/Sz9EfM12AtI/AAAAAAAAAJY/V-7KgQ8Gi_k/s320/11855_549935083551_3001224_32470233_2612184_n.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422127779191063250" border="0" /></a>One of my last experiences in Nkurenjuru, one in which I will never forget, came when Sarah took me to greet/meet another family. As we were sitting in their company, the boys, without explanation, began chasing a chicken wildly around the home-stay. A good 10 minutes later, the chicken was finally caught, bound, and placed at my feet. I didn't know how to react, and am unsure of what facial expressions came out in that moment, but the gesture gives me goosebumps. This family, in a village in Namibia, whom I just met and whom I may never see again, who owns little more then the clothes on their back and the food in their stomach's, is giving me a live chicken as a gift. This is their culture, this is their welcome, this is their appreciation, and they give the fact that they probably need this chicken much more then me no thought. The selflessness of this warms my heart---and, the moments that follow provide hours of entertainment and laughter (first naming, then walking around for over an hour with a live chicken, holding it by it's feet and neck, then in a plastic bag, having a friend kill it, plucking, cooking, and eating it). It will definitely make me think twice when I'm in a situation where I feel like I have nothing to give. My time here has proven that there is always something to give---be it a smile, a laugh, a goat, a chicken or simply shared moments of silence in which human connection needs no words...never underestimate the power of exchange, no matter how small or insignificant that exchange may seem.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tkC_8NVx3Bk/Sz9OKfKhZUI/AAAAAAAAAJw/-KN92l7y68c/s1600-h/IMG_2394.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tkC_8NVx3Bk/Sz9OKfKhZUI/AAAAAAAAAJw/-KN92l7y68c/s320/IMG_2394.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422138418448655682" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /></div><br /></div>Janellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12405369737031873146noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16203399.post-34853248027788933432009-12-13T15:15:00.008+13:002009-12-13T15:49:00.159+13:00I dreamed of Africa...<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tkC_8NVx3Bk/SyRRixnBtWI/AAAAAAAAAIc/K_oen06jgh4/s1600-h/IMG_1888.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5414542309880608098" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tkC_8NVx3Bk/SyRRixnBtWI/AAAAAAAAAIc/K_oen06jgh4/s320/IMG_1888.JPG" border="0" /></a> Smiling faces from the township school<br /><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tkC_8NVx3Bk/SyRRO33C1FI/AAAAAAAAAIU/iQFvFevlm-8/s1600-h/IMG_1773.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5414541967961019474" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tkC_8NVx3Bk/SyRRO33C1FI/AAAAAAAAAIU/iQFvFevlm-8/s320/IMG_1773.JPG" border="0" /></a> View from Table Mountain...the 2010 World Cup stadium is just out of view to the right!<br /><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tkC_8NVx3Bk/SyRQuaztNzI/AAAAAAAAAIM/GlTlZTRie2o/s1600-h/IMG_1883.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5414541410406577970" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tkC_8NVx3Bk/SyRQuaztNzI/AAAAAAAAAIM/GlTlZTRie2o/s320/IMG_1883.JPG" border="0" /></a> An amazing story....read on!<br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tkC_8NVx3Bk/SyRQGHv_QGI/AAAAAAAAAIE/GTlouQGK5Pw/s1600-h/IMG_1634.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5414540718095941730" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tkC_8NVx3Bk/SyRQGHv_QGI/AAAAAAAAAIE/GTlouQGK5Pw/s320/IMG_1634.JPG" border="0" /></a> 1 of our many animal encounters. A herd takes their drink!<br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tkC_8NVx3Bk/SyRPPS7742I/AAAAAAAAAH8/P-72upfmpfY/s1600-h/IMG_1692.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5414539776206037858" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tkC_8NVx3Bk/SyRPPS7742I/AAAAAAAAAH8/P-72upfmpfY/s320/IMG_1692.JPG" border="0" /></a> African sunsets really ARE all that!<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tkC_8NVx3Bk/SyRO0vnkv5I/AAAAAAAAAH0/Nyqy-OBXUJI/s1600-h/IMG_1513.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5414539320048795538" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tkC_8NVx3Bk/SyRO0vnkv5I/AAAAAAAAAH0/Nyqy-OBXUJI/s320/IMG_1513.JPG" border="0" /></a> The green and waterfalls just outside of Kruger<br /><div></div><div> </div><div>It's been far too long since I've written, and, well, I'd say it's about time! As I sit out looking at the 10 stars that occupy the Bangkok sky, and enjoy the 5 degree drop in temperature, which, for the record, merely makes it bearable but has me believing I'm experiencing a proper Christmas season, something (perhaps my and Rach's rendition of "The Lion Sleeps Tonight" and"Circle of Life" while strolling home) has pulled me back to my journey to Africa-- and the memories are sweet.<br /></div><br /><div>Rachel and I landed in Joburg, South Africa with 2 weeks, the open road, a complete lack of reliable maps and planning, and our rent-a-car Zed ahead. We were out of Joburg as soon as we were in it, and passed through the most dangerous city in the world without so much as a second thought. Our first stop took us to Sabie, a tiny dot on the map surrounded by green mountains and of course the beautifully bright lavender Jacaranda trees. Our big welcome to our first South African town, after flying for nearly 17 hours and driving an additional 5, was a water problem. Meaning no shower (ouch) and no toilets until things were fixed. Our silly misunderstanding had us believing that it was just this particular guest house we pulled in to---and thought the problem could easily be solved by 1) going elsewhere or 2) getting a discount that would make popping a squat and holding out for a shower a bit longer worth it. But turns out, when the town is as small as this one, everyone in it experiences water problems simultaneously. Duh. The water never did come back on that day/night and we found ourselves 'showering' in the pool. As you do. The next day was spent painfully surrounded by green, mountains, waterfalls, and friendly locals before entering the vastness of Kruger National Park. We spent the next 3 nights in the park, acting as our own Safari guides and striking it lucky in more ways then my mind can grasp. The animals were UNREAL and there really is nothing like looking out over the flat nothingness to see animals grazing on the horizon. I think my favourite were the giraffes, but it's hard to choose a favourite when, for 3 days, you literally see more (this is only the list of the names I know...forget about the ones that had a 'what in the hell is that' reaction) hyenas, impala, eagles, giraffes, zebras, wart hogs, rhinos, elephants, guinea fowls, wilde beasts, springboks, baboons, leopards, lions, birds, kudos, ostriches, monkeys, buffalo then you can count. One of our most amazing experiences came when we cut the engine and sat on the roof of Zed watching and listening to the hippos in the lake. They alone had us mesmerized. Then we saw the crocs. Then the herd of Zebra and wilde beast walked right past us to get a drink. Then it was the buffalo's turn. Then, through the bush came a herd of 35+ elephants (babies and all) to have their drink. Then the monkey's (so carefully taking their drink---surely to avoid the fate of hippo snack) and impalas. Nothing could have shaken us from the amazement of those moments. Once out of the park, the animal sitings continued and I still can't get over driving down the highway and seeing a giraffe or other wildlife. Am I in Lion Country Safari or is this really happening?! Unfortunately our luck under the water was less successful and our attempts at diving (Sodwana Bay) were overshadowed by bad conditions and viz. One dive and we called it quits (but not before seeing some great eels, a huge rubberlips fish, having "Nemo" literally bite my lip and having a jelly wrap round my neck leaving me with a beautiful sting that Rach insisted I wipe vinegar and meat tenderizer on!) . We also were crazy enough to get into a cage with great whites---BUT, they never came. We can't say we didn't try :). We turned "luxury" the next few days as we traveled down the coast (the Garden Route, etc) and loved the shit outta some B&B places. How will we ever stay in a hostel or guesthouse again? We're doomed! All the places were amazing---the food, the staff, the views. As we entered the southern coast, the whales came out to play. And when I say Whales, I really mean WHALES. Our first siting was as we were driving 80km down the road. A quick glimpse to the sea (yes, the road is that close---) and BAM---"DID YOU SEE THAT?! WHALE!"....Zed screeched to the side of the road and we watched 3 Southern Right Whales for over an hour---only a few yards from the shore. We had so many moments like this that, if whale spotting could actually get old/boring, it might have. As we entered Cape Town, the iffy weather decided to take a hike, parting in time for a warm, beautiful Table Mountain welcome. We found a GREAT backpackers place right on the main strip of Long Street and soaked up the amazing weather for our last 3 days. 1 day spent atop Table Mountain and in Stellenbosch, tasting wine and hitting up 4 or 5 of the HUNDREDS of wineries that make Stellenbosch what it is. We did the famous Chapman's Peak Drive along the coast and timed it perfectly for the sun setting and, of course, the whales. The drive was beautiful, even if we were constantly glancing up at the walls of reinforcements intended to stop the rocks from crashing down on us and Zed! Our last full day in the Cape was spent with our tour guide in the District 6 museum, the townships, and Robben Island---as we tried to wrap our minds and hearts around the past, present and future of this beautiful country. The townships, also referred to as the slums or ghetto, were full of smiling faces, but lacking in water, electricity, sanitation and other conveniences/civilities that disappeared during the "relocations" that took place in the 1960's. Our tour guide pointed out a young man surrounded with live wires---as he tried to illegally wire electricity from one place to another so that a family might have a single light, and he may make a few bucks (yes, even Rand, the South African currency is referred to as 'bucks'!). We visited a school, where the ratio of students to teachers was shocking...as was the ratio of space to children. But they were making it work, and it filled our hearts. We heard many encouraging stories, one about a woman named Vicky and her amazing B&B right in the heart of one of these townships. She started from nothing and now has a beautiful B&B with 3 rooms that she opens to tourists---allowing them to stay in the heart of things and get a true look and appreciation of the people inside the townships. From the letters filling the walls in Vicky's B&B, it was clear what an impact this place had on it's visitors. It was an experience that they all took back home with them, and, for many, was just the encouragement they needed to step up and reach out to those less fortunate. I like win-win's. Had Rachel and I known of it sooner, we definitely would have stayed. We ferried out to Robben Island and had an ex-political prisoner guide us around the island and the prison where Nelson Mandela and so many others spent decades. Today, a few ex-prisoners have made the island their home and it amazes me that they are able to face the past with such acceptance. Our last dinner was at a South African restaurant where we sampled local beer, kudo, springbok, and ostrich (3 animals from our Kruger siting list---hehe!) and enjoyed live entertainment. A great send off. By the next morning, I'd be landing in the tiny airport of Windhoek, Namibia and Rachel in Casablanca, Morocco. My experiences in Namibia in a blog to follow shortly! </div></div></div></div></div></div>Janellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12405369737031873146noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16203399.post-3275997636202315922009-09-05T15:10:00.011+12:002009-09-19T13:07:13.156+12:00Dear America, Love ThailandLesson: Touch, Taste, Smell<br /><br />purpose of blindfold: Teacher's entertainment :) <a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tkC_8NVx3Bk/SqHaJloIpjI/AAAAAAAAAHs/isDoeIRtL5M/s1600-h/IMG_1351.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5377819288311211570" style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; float: left; width: 240px; height: 320px;" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tkC_8NVx3Bk/SqHaJloIpjI/AAAAAAAAAHs/isDoeIRtL5M/s320/IMG_1351.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tkC_8NVx3Bk/SqHY0i8cFPI/AAAAAAAAAHk/8UkZMCMB9Hg/s1600-h/IMG_1319.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5377817827302184178" style="margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; float: right; width: 320px; height: 240px;" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tkC_8NVx3Bk/SqHY0i8cFPI/AAAAAAAAAHk/8UkZMCMB9Hg/s320/IMG_1319.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><br /><br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tkC_8NVx3Bk/SqHYb6JTy1I/AAAAAAAAAHc/_y-QpG1yOAg/s1600-h/IMG_1305.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5377817404033452882" style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; float: left; width: 240px; height: 320px;" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tkC_8NVx3Bk/SqHYb6JTy1I/AAAAAAAAAHc/_y-QpG1yOAg/s320/IMG_1305.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tkC_8NVx3Bk/SqHW86F-CtI/AAAAAAAAAHU/KQxyBkg6moM/s1600-h/IMG_1204.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5377815771931871954" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 320px; height: 240px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tkC_8NVx3Bk/SqHW86F-CtI/AAAAAAAAAHU/KQxyBkg6moM/s320/IMG_1204.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />As I stand on my porch and watch the dark sky threaten to swallow me, I'm reminded again how much I love this place. There is something beautiful about the blackness, the calmness just before Bangkok becomes victim of another monsoon. I can't quite explain the peacefulness, but it's a feeling that makes me smile from the inside out. Life continues---as normal---making it difficult to blog--until, of course, I stop to smell the pollution. When I do slow down, look around, and re-open my eyes, I'm reminded of the craziness that is Bangkok and I fall in love all over again. I think about how shocked and terrified I was when I first arrived and I can't help but smile. This is my life, this is my home, and nothing about it seems crazy anymore. </div><div> </div><div>During one of these eyes-wide-open moments, I outwardly smiled while walking through the market. This is my kitchen, my favourite restaurant, my late night craving, my sweet tooth filling, my caffeine jump start, my healthy eating kick---all rolled in to one. I have literally cooked a total of 4 times in the last year. Why cook when you have this market, a market, covering every inch of every sidewalk in every part of Bangkok? I watch as one of the vendors delicately tastes her creation from a giant spoon before dipping it back in for a stir, and I laugh. I can hear mom's voice in my ear teaching me proper manners---telling me to wash the spoon first and I love the fact that these vendors never got that lesson. I love that, at some point in my life, I probably would have cringed, but now, I happily walk over and order what she has. I order fruit and am unphased when the vendor grips it completely in his (surely) not-so-clean hand before cutting it into my bag. I occasionally remove bugs or hair from my meals as if I'm removing the shell of a shrimp. Take it out, put it on the side, and continue eating as if there is nothing unpleasant about it. I laugh when I think that the stuff that goes on here would easily be on TV in America on one of those hidden camera shows. </div><div> </div><div>School has been amazing and my kids succeed at simultaneously exhausting and fueling me. They are beautiful, smart, loving, full of energy, innocence and cheeky-ness---If I give them, teach them, make them feel a <em>fraction</em> of what they give me, teach me, make me feel, then I'm doing something right. Even when I want to pick them up and throw them (as I definitely do sometimes), I can't help but kiss them. Which, I have discovered, is as much a "punishment" to a 5 year old trying to be cool in front of his friends then anything else...so, threatening them with a little "joob joob" is enough to make everyone happy! </div><div> </div><div>As for <em>my</em> schooling....There is something about being a 26 year old, illiterate, college graduate that is incredibly....humbling, exciting, amazing, frustrating. I have been taking Thai classes for the last 2 months and, when I see the fruit of my labours, I can't help but act like the 4 year old I feel like. Learning to read a completely foreign alphabet, often with the help (much to their amusement) of my Kindergarten students puts me on an entirely new level. I don't remember learning to read as a child, but I will remember learning to read as an adult forever.<br /></div><div>The term is over in 3 short weeks and yet another dream vacation is calling. Rachel and I will be driving, camping, diving, singing, and dancing (such is the plan so far) our way through South Africa for 2 weeks before I head to Namibia and she heads to Morocco for the remainder of our vacation. Flying out Oct. 1st, back on Oct. 24th, back to work (team building and lesson planning) on Oct. 26th, and back to school on Nov. 3rd. Am BEYOND excited about some visitors in December and can't wait to share my life here :) </div><div></div></div>Janellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12405369737031873146noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16203399.post-20129778908758156662009-06-23T03:12:00.001+12:002009-06-23T03:14:05.836+12:00Proud...to be an American?!?!Better late than never---some reflections!<br /><br />Nearly 3o hours after leaving America, the glistening wats below welcome me and my incoming plane "home". The 3 weeks spent in the US were great. It was a whirlwind, as can only be expected, but great nonetheless. I slipped more comfortably into my previous life then I anticipated, having only to remind myself to say "thank-you" (and not "Kaupkunka") and drive on the right side of the road. I have grown to love Thailand and the people here, but being away from my own Country has only strengthened the bond I feel to it. Being on foreign soil has definitely made me "proud to be an American." The omission of "more" was not a mistake---there was indeed a time that I was NOT proud to be an American. One of the many things I have noticed in my travels is that being American comes with it's price. It's a tiny one, considering the price that so many others have paid, are paying, and will pay to make America what it is, but it does have a "break the stereotype" price. I wouldn't be exaggerating if I said that every non-American I've met has said something alone the lines of "you don't quite fit my idea of an American". I've come to understand that as a compliment---being assured that the "insult" part of that wasn't directed towards me. Though, in a more defensive mindset, I would say it kind of reminds me of someone saying "I hate gay people---but you're not like them". Um. Okay.<br /><br />One of the key turning points, hands down, was the election. I went to watch the inauguration with hundreds of other Americans and the pride that filled the 3 story, packed building was nothing short of amazing. It was in those moments of complete togetherness with complete strangers that made me realize how special America really is. For everyone there, it wasn't necessarily about Obama---it was just about change, about Hope and new beginnings. Most people cried, hugged, clapped, smiled, high-fived. I took part in all of it---sharing a moment with strangers who, at that time, we're as good as family, was something that really changed my thinking. It opened my eyes to a bond that goes beyond the surface. Beyond my intolerance of the ignorant, loud, obnoxious American stereotype. Beyond the surfacy things that have kept me from "claiming" America.<br /><br />When I traveled home, with a new found hope, appreciation, and excitement, it was as if I was stepping on American soil for the first time. I was taking it all in as an outsider---a view, I would argue, that gives an amazingly fresh, appreciative perception. The first thing I remember thinking was "wow, people here are super friendly"---and then, in my layover in the Atlanta airport, I got a treat. Troops coming home. I didn't fully know what was going on at first, but, because I have gotten so used to "going with the flow" living in a foreign country (if you're walking, and all of a sudden everyone stops, you should stop too---even if it takes you a long time to figure out that the King's song is playing---), I just...well, 'went with the flow'. Before I knew it, I was on my feet, applauding with the hundreds of other people around me. When I saw the troops, I got chills. I always admired the pride---the honour---the love---in Thailand. The respect they have for their King and their Country is amazing and at times, it leaves me awestruck. But the experience I had in the airport that day will always be a reminder that 'we have that too'....it's just that I've been too spoiled by it to recognize it as "special".<br /><br />I continue to be in love with my life here. The culture. The people. My kids. The language. I enjoy the bonds that I've formed, am forming, and love the challenge that a culture/language barrier gives me. I face it everyday. Some moments, it's incredibly uplifting, and others, it's incredibly frustrating, and sometimes even painful. It's truly amazing how, at the root of it, people are people. There is so much that can be learned, understood, even when words aren't available. Yet, during those moments of frustration and pain, it's difficult accepting that bonds may only go so deep with these kinds of barriers. It's difficult, at times, knowing that I may never fully be able to know my kids without the help of a translator. And even then, there are many things that culture and/or language won't have a translation for. But, I'm still welcoming every aspect with arms, eyes, heart wide open. Through all this, I think I've discovered that I have a real future in education and am excited to continue running with, and growing with, that possibility. I do occasionally watch my 'homeroom teachers' with a bit of envy---and think eventually I'd like to be a 'homeroom' teacher who can actually FULLY communicate with her class! But for now, the fulfillment I've gotten from watching my kids grow (I get to keep 'my kids' through 3 grades ....that's a perk that homeroom teachers don't get!), teaching them a language that I know will help them as they get older, AND teaching them to READ ( :) :) :)), is unexplainable!Janellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12405369737031873146noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16203399.post-41725416815143541452009-05-10T22:13:00.007+12:002009-05-10T23:53:09.566+12:00(We've) Paved Paradise<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tkC_8NVx3Bk/Sga54ZWr-qI/AAAAAAAAAHM/6FzdT-mNAek/s1600-h/IMG_1003.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334155187196787362" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tkC_8NVx3Bk/Sga54ZWr-qI/AAAAAAAAAHM/6FzdT-mNAek/s320/IMG_1003.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tkC_8NVx3Bk/Sga5jOfTyHI/AAAAAAAAAHE/HLHPvh3kdbw/s1600-h/IMG_1096.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334154823502907506" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tkC_8NVx3Bk/Sga5jOfTyHI/AAAAAAAAAHE/HLHPvh3kdbw/s320/IMG_1096.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tkC_8NVx3Bk/Sga5Rp_B4jI/AAAAAAAAAG8/06afCwbrQiU/s1600-h/IMG_0750.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334154521646064178" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tkC_8NVx3Bk/Sga5Rp_B4jI/AAAAAAAAAG8/06afCwbrQiU/s320/IMG_0750.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div>If the Islands of Southern Thailand had a theme song, it would be "Big Yellow Taxi" by the Counting Crows (go on, look up the lyrics if you must!). We've just returned from a 2 week hiatus (from, you know, our <em>other</em> hiatus!) around Southern Thailand, and, while it was an amazing trip, it wasn't void of conflicting feelings. The islands and beaches of Thailand are, undoubtedely, what lures tourists. It's the scenary that books and movies are made of (namely, The Beach) and people are lining up to get a taste. So, Rachel and I set off on our 14 hour hour Phuket-bound bus, hoping for the best while trying to keep expectations at bay. We arrived in Phuket town with 2 days to spare (before leaving on our liveaboard) and immediately rented a motorbike so we could explore the island at lesiure. We went to the most popular beaches first, knowing that, if we've learned anything from travel books, it's that their most popular is our least favourite! What we found was great potential. Beautifully white beaches with clear waters and limestone surroundings---packed with <em>farang, </em>bars, resorts, construction, and an overall lack of "thai-ness". For 2 people who have grown to love a culture, it was painful to see, and, after seeing another topless <em>farang</em> (going topless is like spitting in the face of Thai culture), we hurried on our way. Every supposedely "secluded" beach/bay we came to had been developed and stripped of it's Thai roots, therefore, to us, had been stripped of it's beauty. But saying all this is met with a bit of self-criticism. If I love a country, love a culture, love a people, why wouldn't I want it to thrive?! Tourism can allow that to happen--so, in theory, I should be excited for all this development---. I guess I just want it to be preserved only for those who wish to experience Thailand in, well, all it's Thainess. (not to mention that it's the vicious cycle really---everyone flocks to a particular place beacause of it's untouced beauty---the flocking means money, development, tourism---which, unvariably, destroys the "untouched beauty" part and lasts only long enough until a new untouched place is discovered. And really, how many more of <em>those</em> places remain?)</div><br /><div>A few days later, we boarded the <em>Le Marhe</em> boat and set out for 4 days of diving and island exploring. Luckily, our choice to go at the end of season paid off. Although the rains and rough seas flirted with us briefly (and even caused other ships to cancel their trips), they held off long enough for us to enjoy great weather, good diving, and less crowded sites. Although our dives were somewhat tainted by a piss poor (okay, that's not fair...new and unexperienced) dive guide, the trip still gave us the opportunity to find those beaches we had dreamed of. Because the Similian and Surin Islands are actually protected, the lack of development has preserved their beauty---allowing us access to crystal clear water, white beaches, and great lookouts---and all of this without the topless woman, bars, and resorts. Diving 4 times a day, taking a "break" to snorkel, swim, or laze on a deserted beach was all in all, amazing. Some say it's only a matter of time before the "protection" on these areas is lifted to allow for development and money making opportunities, but I will hold on to the hope that the protection will stand. </div><br /><div>For a break from the beaches, we spent a few days in a small rain-foresty town (Koh Sok) which we loved. The scenary was beautiful (limestone cliffs for as far as you could see) and it was homey. We stayed in a family-run (actually, I'm pretty conviced the town itself was family-run!) guesthouse where mom took care of money, daughters took care of cooking, sons took care of driving and giving tours, and, well, adorable grandkids took care of hugging, entertaining, and melting the heart of visitors (see picture). :). We did a hike through the forest, where Rachel and I had our first experience with leeches. And, when I say 'experience', (mom), I really mean that I had a leech ON me...which left me with an "I'm so excited in a really grossed out kinda way" feeling. </div><br /><div>I'm back to work tomorrow and I'm actually really excited about it! I've missed my kids so much and can't wait to see them again! It's hard to believe that nearly 3 months has gone by since I've taught them! So, it's back to the work world for about 4 months---then, if all goes according to plan, we're off to South Africa and Namibia in October to jump into 1 Sarah Buffie's world for a little bit and see what other cultures have in store for us. </div><div></div><div> </div><div>****Many of the places we traveled to on this trip were affected, if not <em>destroyed</em> by the 2004 Tsunami. In this way, it was refreshing to see that things had been rebuilt and restored--allowing some degree of normalcy to return. Although my heart went out to the people back in 2004 when the pictures and stories were ripe, it wasn't until I traveled here that I was fully able to connect with the diaster and what the people must have felt. Back then, the places affected by the tsunami were nothing more then foreign names to me (a fact that made connection, and, in many ways, belief, nearly impossible)---whereas now, they are real places that I can connect with, see, touch, feel---. It's simple things like this that continue to drive my passion for seeing the world. </div><div> </div></div></div>Janellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12405369737031873146noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16203399.post-51452022871589272332009-01-04T22:05:00.013+13:002009-01-05T02:14:57.166+13:00Genocide, Poverty, Hope, Beauty<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tkC_8NVx3Bk/SWC2Sd7fkrI/AAAAAAAAAGc/GsOPgOUbOQ4/s1600-h/IMG_5302.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287426390921024178" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tkC_8NVx3Bk/SWC2Sd7fkrI/AAAAAAAAAGc/GsOPgOUbOQ4/s320/IMG_5302.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div>Cambodia 27/12/08-3/1/09<br />Poipet-Siem Reap-Phnom Phen-Battambang<br /><br />Cambodia has rattled me to my core--in a way that leaves me eager to return. I have heard stories, read books, been warned of the poverty. But nothing would fully register until my own senses were set loose. As we travel down the 2.5 hour red, dirt road, I see things not only in the "here and now", but I also see them, with the help of a memoir by Loung Ung (First They Killed My Father), as they were 30 years ago. From 1975-1979, the Khmer Rouge took control of Cambodia in a war that would see nearly 2 million (out of a population of only about 7 million) men, women and children killed in an act of Genocide so horrific, I don't have the words, or the understanding, to do a description justice. As I wander around S-21 Tuol Sleng in Phnom Phen, I look, in horror, at the evidence of a school-turned-torture-prison. Instead of desks, there are metal bed frames used to bind, torture, and kill people the Khmer Rouge saw as a threat. The children here are only learning how to survive another minute, another hour, another day. Learning what it feels like to be tortured, to stave, to be ripped away from their families. I step into one of the make-shift cells and imagine what it must have felt like 30 years before. The recency of it all sends chills down my back. At a time when my own big brother was being conceived, someone else's big brother was being tortured, starved, killed. I blink away a tear and continue wandering. I over hear tour guides giving their story. All are young and all have a story that has been brutally set by Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge. Inside these walls, the memories are impossible to escape, but outside is a Country that continues to fight, to hope, to yearn for a better tomorrow. It would be understandable if they remained broken, but their spirit is so uplifting, it not only carries them, it carries heavy-hearted travelers, as if they are telling the world that they have survived, they will survive.<br /><br />As I stroll around the ruins of the Angkor temples (built between the 8th and 13th centuries), I'm overcome with emotion. The energy it brings me will be hard to beat and the peacefulness fuels my ever increasing Buddhist curiosity. The pride the Country has for these old sites pours out of every root-entangled inch, out of every ancient carving, out of every bullet-littered lion guardian. And, although the packs of tourists frustrates me, it's a reminder that the persistent hopefulness of a wounded nation is paying off. The Angkorian temples is their pride and joy (for good reason), and the world has finally caught on. I'm left in the most awe at the sites that have been overtaken by nature. Massive tree roots are so intertwined with the ruins that my mind cannot piece together the when or how. They wrap their finger-like branches deeply, tightly, into every crevice, as if clinging to hope while trying to simultaneously suffocate a dark past.<br /><br />The un-touristed Cambodia passes me by, and I can't help but think of family camping trips. Half-clothed children, permeantly stained a redish-brown from the unescapable dusty, dirt roads, go about their daily activites. Some run back and forth to the water pump, which, thanks to a "clean water act" and generous international donations, is now safer for them to drink. Some bent over a small fire, eating or cooking. Some hanging clothes on the line and others gathering wood. I remember how I felt on my family camping trips--how excited I was when I successfully hung a make-shift clothes line, or gathered the perfect fire wood--how much I loved staying dirty and running around in my little-girl underwear. The memories bring a smile to my face, but when I bring myself back to reality, I remember that this is no camping trip--no weekend of roughing it for these families. This is life. I can't help but wonder what darkness lies in their hearts. Did they too lose loved ones? Did they watch a brother, mother, sister be tourtured? Did someone in their family sacrafice so they could live? When nearly 1 in 4 people were killed in a war that ended less than 30 years ago, there is a high possibility that they would answer 'yes' to at least one of those questions---and that reality continues to haunt my thoughts and break my heart.<br /><br />In the city of Siem Reap, the newly-built resturants and hotels seem too out of place to enjoy. It's impossible to get through a meal without at least one street kid coming to your table asking for food or water---or a book seller trying desperately to make a buck or two. I find it easier to say no, to continue walking past the beggers in the streets (here or anywhere--) when I know that giving them money is no solution. It becomes so exhausting saying no--to the booksellers with missing limbs (oh yeah, Cambodia is one of the most mined countries in the world), to the kids selling bracelets (12 for $1...MISSS...cheap price for you), paintings, drinks, woven grasshoppers, postcards--that I feel myself getting frustrated. But before I allow that emotion to take over, I ask myself--if saying no exhausts me, what must <em>hearing</em> no do to these kids? This thought kills me, and reminds me to, at the least, keep a smile on my face while saying no for the nteenth time. But when a 4 year old approaches, holding an empty bottle, wearing an infant on her hip, and asking for milk, my heart is all out of 'no's'. It's soothing watching the 2 dirtied faces eat and drink, but I can't help but wonder if my weakness in this situation only did more to hinder the solution--what ever that may be. When I get home that night, the images of the street children are fresh in my mind. When I look down at my white shirt, I notice a face-shaped stain just above my belly-button. It doesn't take long to register that this dirt-print is from the small boy who ran up to me on the street and hugged me---thus leaving an imprint on me---and my shirt!<br /><br />It seemed only fitting that we would end our trip at a local orphange in Battambang. Before I came to SE Asia, I told people that ultimately, I wanted to end up in an Orphange in Cambodia. I had no idea why. The words just seemed to flow out of my mouth without much thought. But as I fought back the stench of urine in the nursery ward and held an innocent, infant body to my chest, I knew I belonged. The calmness of these babies is something I still can't get over. It saddens me to think that they are so accustomed to being alone, that, even in their few months of life, they have already learned to cope...alone. They lay, unentertained, without so much as a whimper. But, when I took 1 after another into my arms, nature took over. If it wasn't immediately obvious that they still do, as nature intends, crave human connection, it became obvious when their eyes moved from a locked fixation on my (foreign) eyes to a deep sleep within minutes of being held. As if they simple needed that reassurance, that touch, to know that everything was going to be okay. I long to do more---and can only hope that I continue to lose sleep at night. In my heart, I know I'll return. Hopefully as a more long-term volunteer at that orphanage. But until then, I'm happy to be home. Happy to start work tomorrow. Happy for the experience, as hard as it may have been. Happy that the people so openly welcomed me into their Kingdom, into their painful past, and invited me to hope with them for a much brighter future.</div>Janellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12405369737031873146noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16203399.post-60333861300838114602008-10-21T20:25:00.004+13:002008-10-21T20:44:57.549+13:00Indonesia at a glance4:30am. The Call To Prayer gentle shakes me from my slumber. Despite being prematurely wakened, I find a rewarding peacefulness in the sound. The calming effect rushes over me, rocking me back to sleep--and offers a sharp contradiction to my ignorant-driven fears of a religion that makes up nearly 90% of this country.<br /><br />Walking out of the airport in Jakarta, Indonesia, I was overcome by an uncomfortable feeling. To an extent, it’s a natural feeling when you step foot on foreign soil, one that I’ve grown quite accustomed to. But this---this was different. My governmental warnings were fresh in my mind and I started to question myself. The US Department of State’s website <em>urged</em> me to “carefully weigh my decision (to travel here)”. Had I heeded their advice? I glanced around at several staring eyes, a “harsh-looking” crowd, and an obviously Muslim majority. I pulled my bags closer, trying to look more relaxed at the same time. When I proceeded onto the public bus, it was gut wrenching. Reflecting back, it wasn’t gut-wrenching because I was on a public bus. And not because I was a minority. But because I was a minority on a public bus that was populated entirely by Muslims. Afterall, my government, my country, has painted this picture numerous times before for me. It’s a picture of terrorism (isn‘t it?)---and here I am, voluntarily in the middle of it. As my fears slowly subsided on that first day, I immediately felt my mind, body, and eyes opening up---the previously painted picture of this country, of this religion, of this culture just couldn’t stand up to the actual picture that would unfold before me over the next several days…<br /><br />Through the cracked window of my “eksekutif” seat on the Yogyakarta bound train, I watch the everyday Indonesia pass by. I get a glimpse of two burials, and, while I can’t see their faces, the body language of those surrounding the grave speak volumes. Their pain, their suffering, their loss is the same as any others. Poverty-stricken neighborhoods are the norm, but the faces of the children bathing, laughing, and playing in the polluted river hardly resemble those I’ve seen on TV. Their outward happiness is humbling. If only happiness could so easily be obtained in areas where bathing in a filthy river was unspeakable. Inside the train, 2 big, dark eyes stare at Rach and I the way I would have stared at a visibly disabled person before I knew it was impolite. Pure curiosity. Pure innocence. It’s far less intimidating when the eyes that are locked on you belong to those of a child--and I allow myself to stare back. Through her eyes, I could see the reflection of my own curiosity. Maybe all these stares that we’ve been subject to since our arrival aren’t driven by fear or hate, but rather by pure curiosity, pure innocence. That possibility only did more to further break down my fears---fears that initially were intensified by these stares!<br /><br />On the streets of Yogya, an intimidating-looking teenager senses that Rach and I are a bit turned around (perhaps the map in our hands and our erratic footsteps tip him off) and comes to help. He gestures for us to follow him in a kind of way that only an intimidating, non-English speaking teenager could. Hesitantly, I follow him, consciously adjusting my body language--partly to make Rachel believe that everything was fine and I wasn’t the least bit concerned about this boys intentions--and partly to make myself believe it. We settle for a few smiles when our attempts at conversation fail and I continue to follow him, silently. He helps us cross the highly trafficked road by stepping into it, his body between us and the cars/motorbikes/horse carriages, his hand guiding my arm. Even with this selfless gesture, my mind is busy piecing together his possible intentions. Does he want money? Does he want to take us to a certain place? Is he getting us more lost? Does he want to hurt us? Before my mind could finish the last negative thought, I recognize Molboloro (street)…exactly what we were looking for. Familiarity. I stutter out <em>terima kasih</em>---relieved, yet ashamed. Our young guide proceeded to place a bracelet in my hand, gesturing for me to wear it, before disappearing into the crowd. I stood there a bit confused. Looking first at the bracelet, then scanning the crowd for the kid, then eyes back to the bracelet. Because I didn’t want to say exactly what I was thinking at that moment, I turned to Rach and asked “do you think it’s safe for me to wear it?” I examined the bracelet carefully, still confused, mind running wild. What was truly going though my head at that moment is something I hate to admit--- <em>man--this thing is gonna start ticking isn’t it? This thug kid picked us Westerners out of the crowd to prove another religious point, didn’t he? Should I throw it? Should I drop it? What if that expedites things? Man--where did he go? Why did he just disappear?</em> They aren’t thoughts I’m proud of, but they were intense thoughts. Real thoughts. Real fears. All which exist because many people like to use religion to tear nations apart---these people use intimidation to reach that goal. And apparently, it works. I closed my eyes, took a breath, and slipped the bracelet around my wrist. I continued to wear it, and examine it, for the rest of the day.<br /><br />Just before sunset, Rachel and I wonder around the holy remains of Borobudur along with thousands of local Indonesians, who, because of the Ramadan holiday, have flocked to this particular place. Not long into our meander, a man hesitantly approaches, camera in hand. In his best English, he asks if we’ll take a picture with his children. We’re amused and when we smile in agreeance, his whole family lights up, smiling the way I did when Ed Jovanoski agreed to take a picture with me when I was a kid. They thank us profusely, then shake our hands with --what can only be explained as-- admiration. We laugh at the situation, understanding that Westerners look different--and some people have never seen “a real one”. Just when we thought it was a rare occurrence, someone gave us a speed ticket to our 15 minutes of fame. 1 family after another approached, parents thrusting their children at us, teenagers approaching hesitantly, women, men, children, teenagers. We glance up (Borobudur is a series of terraces, you can glance up at the next level, and the next…etc), to dozens of cameras and phones locked on us. Some people try to be discrete, but most aren‘t. We lost count of how many pictures we agreed to take that day, but we left with an overwhelming understanding that our original fears of “these people”--and their often chilling stares, couldn’t have been more wrong.<br /><br />As if someone knew there was still one thing I couldn’t wrap my mind around, I got the last piece to my puzzle. On our hike up an active volcano, we met more people who wanted to take pictures with us and practice their English. Before we were leaving, the one kid who didn’t speak great English, asked for <em>something</em>--- “do you have something for me?”. Unsure of what he meant by <em>something</em>, I put my hands up in a “what do you mean” gesture. He pointed to my thumb ring. Although I was unable to part with that, the light bulb went off in my head. THAT’s why that <em>thug kid</em> gave me his bracelet!! This is a part of their culture! This is what’s normal to them!! When Rachel pointed to the hair tie she had wrapped around her wrist, the kid lit up---he took it, slipped it around his wrist, smiled in a way I can’t explain (proving that it didn‘t have to be something of value), and walked away, thanking us over and over. This continued to happen several times as we traveled through Java and Lombok. So many people we met wanted a memory--something they could have to remind them of the meeting. When Rach ran out of hair ties, we turned to pens---and every time we got the most rewarding smile---as if we had just given these kids a winning lotto ticket.<br /><br />I know my 18 day trip through Indonesia hardly warrants me an expert on anything. But it was one of the most eye-opening, rewarding trips simple because my standing beliefs were effectively shattered. As for this bracelet---it has yet to start ticking. And until it does, it will be a constant reminder to take a stand against ignorant-driven fears.<br /><br />"The use of traveling is to regulate imagination by reality, and instead of thinking how things may be, to see them as they are." ~ <a href="http://www.blogger.com/wiki/Samuel_Johnson">Samuel Johnson</a><br /><br />(pictures to follow on shutterfly shortly...as well as bullets to what we did/saw---and how fabulously fantastic it was to meet Ash and Cait in Bali!! )Janellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12405369737031873146noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16203399.post-7571489004651033462008-09-27T20:18:00.008+12:002009-06-23T01:24:35.848+12:00Say what you mean & mean what you say<div align="center">My morning cup of coffee: <a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tkC_8NVx3Bk/SN36ttAUHlI/AAAAAAAAAFA/W1Wd0Utky8c/s1600-h/What%27s+missing!.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5250628403665837650" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tkC_8NVx3Bk/SN36ttAUHlI/AAAAAAAAAFA/W1Wd0Utky8c/s320/What%27s+missing!.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /></div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tkC_8NVx3Bk/SN36D7bMDMI/AAAAAAAAAE4/yZCHK7g0MZc/s1600-h/Silly+K3%27s.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5250627685982145730" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tkC_8NVx3Bk/SN36D7bMDMI/AAAAAAAAAE4/yZCHK7g0MZc/s320/Silly+K3%27s.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tkC_8NVx3Bk/SN346Y1q1jI/AAAAAAAAAEw/VtqHVZmUcck/s1600-h/My+K1+angels.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5250626422567523890" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tkC_8NVx3Bk/SN346Y1q1jI/AAAAAAAAAEw/VtqHVZmUcck/s320/My+K1+angels.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tkC_8NVx3Bk/SN34mNx_1mI/AAAAAAAAAEo/NzYRZzwLEZI/s1600-h/Funny+faces.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5250626076001949282" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tkC_8NVx3Bk/SN34mNx_1mI/AAAAAAAAAEo/NzYRZzwLEZI/s320/Funny+faces.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />My 9th grade English teacher once told our class to "write what you mean and mean what you write". It was a good lesson in writing--one that I carried with me to my days at Rice--but the adapted form is the one that really stuck. For the last few years, since that class, I have been trying to "say what I mean and mean what I say". It's powerful in its simplicity. How many times do we utter out hurtful words when we don't really mean them--or fail to utter loving ones? As much as this simple phrase has shaped much of me (thanks Mr. Horal), I find it ironic that I've landed in a place where "saying what I mean and meaning what I say' is a near impossibility. Welcome to the tonal Thai language. A language that doesn't give a crap if I'm tone deaf. Lets, for instance, take the word kow. A word that, depending on your tone, can mean rice, mountain, or white. The blank stare at the food stall when I ask for 'mountain' reminds me that I need a new phrase because clearly, I'm not saying what I mean. And, until I develop more of an ear for these tones, I've decided to stay away from the confusion of such words as glai---which, at mid-tone, means far but at a falling-tone means near. I'll just take a taxi, thanks.<br /><br />Friday was my last day of teaching this term and I spent 15 minutes of my lunch break lost (and loving it) in translation. I visited with 'my homeroom' teachers (Mee, Ning and Kan)--none of whom speak English. For 15 minutes, we played pictionary (by the makers of necessity, not Milton Bradley) and nearly peed ourselves laughing. They tried so hard to speak English and I tried so hard to speak Thai (the sound of which, with all due respects, mirrors the sounds you may hear in a special-needs class) and every now and then, we'd recognize a word. Completely and utterly out of context, but a word nonetheless. 15 minutes, 3 words, an aching stomach and watery eyes later, I realized the full power of a smile--the full power of laughter. It's something that is multilingual--knowing no borders--and luckily, no tones. So, while our Thai fluency may be forever a work-in-progress, one thing for sure--Rach and I know how to laugh and smile---and by Buddha are we!!<br /><br />BALI BOUND and SUCH:<br />Because work wants to give me a month off AND pay me a 1/3 of my salary, we're Bali-bound! We're flying to Indonesia on Wednesday, Oct. 1st and will spend 2.5 weeks exploring another country--another culture--. 2 of my BFFFFL's from Rice, Ashley (better known by readers of my blog as "hussy from houston" :) ) and Cait, will be meeting us in Bali on the 14th and I CANNOT wait! I know it's going to be an amazing trip and I can't wait to see my girls again. And yes, Ashley mommy dear, I have researched Indonesia and you can be assured that we will be smart travelers. So the mommy's out there can sleep peacefully, I've registered with the US embassy and have made them aware of my plans to travel there---so no worries, the US government has got my back!! haha.<br /><br />Because several people have asked: Rachel and I are both working at a place called Fun Language. The majority of my classes are 4-6years old but I have 1 older class of 11 year olds. Fun Language pretty much acts as a middle man and sends us to different schools. I have 4 different schools...and several hundred students in total. Other than a few bad days here and there, I LOVE my kids--love my schedule--love it. Rach will start training on Oct. 2oth and then will be assigned to schools. It's a perfect set up because, while we'll be working together, it's very unlikely we'll be working at the same schools. So our jobs will be our own space, but we'll have all the same holidays/term breaks, etc. Everything else is going well. We have survived our first month of living in a 2x2 box (ok, so it's not THAT small...) together and show no signs of converting to the "I'll just shove you in the closet and lock it if I get sick of you" contingency plan!! We have been meeting a lot of people--Thai and foreigners alike and are just soaking up the culture of this place. In true Elizabeth Gilbert (Author of Eat, Pray, Love) form, I've made a "you teach me Thai, I'll teach you English" arrangement with the women that work at our apartment building and Rach made a similar arrangement with a woman that lives in the apartment building next door--hopefully commencing upon our return from Indonesia.<br /><br />Skype: The internet in our apartment slows significantly when there are a lot of people online. Because of that, I'm only able to get a Skype connection early in the morning or late, late at night. Which, is ok with the time difference. But that's why I haven't been on too much lately. Hopefully it will get better. Thanks to everyone who has downloaded it...it means so much that you can still only be a phone call away.<br /><br /><br />For anyone who remembers/knows my forever friend Randi, send good thoughts her way! She's walking down the isle on Sept. 27th!! Congrats Rand--I'm there in spirit. Love you.Janellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12405369737031873146noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16203399.post-38612803175407624022008-09-19T22:29:00.004+12:002008-09-19T22:56:09.509+12:00Top 10: You know you've adjusted well when(in no particular order...)<br />10:<br />Instead of gawking at the adorable baby elephants walking down the street, you get disgusted at the people using them to make a buck.<br /><br />9:<br />You're not from 'the States', not from the 'USA', not even from America....you're from A-mer-ee-cahh!<br /><br />8:<br />The occassional splurge on Western food makes you ill<br /><br />7:<br />A meal costing over 150 Baht (5 dollars) is reserved for special occasions<br /><br />6:<br />You may be an English teacher, but proper English grammar is out and local pidgin is in---with a special focus on tones<br /><br />5:<br />You've started applying baby power to your face in hopes that it will make your skin look half as good as the theirs<br /><br />4:<br />The workers in the local market not only know you, they know what you want to eat and how you like it cooked/made<br /><br />3:<br />You've graduated from 'mai ped' (not spicy) to 'nit-noy' (a little) and are happy your taste buds are adjusting<br /><br />2:<br />The Thai kids you teach are amazed by your 2 Thai phrases and automatically think you are fluent...not only in Thai, but also in Chinese...<br /><br />1:<br />You've started giving the 'asian peace sign' in pictures...<br /><br />and one for good measure:<br />The locals call you up and tell you (in above mentioned pidgin) to come play futsol...and luckily, you've mastered 3 of the most important words in soccer: chi, chi (YES, YES....soccer translation: GIVE ME THE FREAKIN BALL), mai chi (NO...soccer translation: DON'T YOU DARE PLAY ME THAT HOSPITAL BALL), Yiing (SHOOT....soccer translation: FREAKIN SHOOT)Janellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12405369737031873146noreply@blogger.com2