Mission Accomplished!

So I'm sitting here pretty sore, definitely elated after a fantastic 40k race. Granted, for a non-coffee drinker who rarely has caffeine this could all just be from the caffeinated shotbloks I ate during the race. Or maybe the endorphins are just still rushing. At any rate, this Glenlivet should put an end to that lickety split. So my high-end goal for this year's race was 3:30 - and I finished the race in 3:20! That definitely beat my expectations and I am just really proud and excited about it. That's nearly an hour faster than the 4:15 I did last year. Yay! avg. heart rate 158. peak heart rate 174. total calories 3410. time in zone: 7 minutes (ha!) While I was disappointed not to be number 420 again this year (green jacket pics), 883 seemed to work well for me (yellow jacket pics).

Even though I didn't meet my fundraising goal I was able to raise exactly $10,500 over the past two years for The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society - also something to be very proud of. Our team raised $230,000 which is just amazing.

The day was beautiful - sunny even though it wasn't supposed to be, and mid to upper 20's. perfect. The scenery is just gorgeous, and i really felt great the entire time. Have you ever seen the frozen ocean? with enormous slabs of ice resting at odd angles on top of the frozen base. Looks almost like the the lava fields and flows in volcano craters. I was happy, I knew I was skiing fast, and only a few elite skiers were complete asses when passing. One even slammed into me. The water stops came up unexpectedly quickly before I even had time to wonder where the hell they were and how could 7k seem so far (the distance between each stop). The only downside was that they changed the order of the race this year so literally I was in the last wave of the entire day - behind every 50K racer, and every 40K racer, and every 25k racer. By the time we skied the snow was like deep mashed potato - especially going up hill. 6-8" of deep deep slush. Which meant the downhill sections which are *quite* steep were a 2' swath of ice surrounded by mounds of at least 12" of snow. So much for step turning! That I only fell once was a true miracle. I was completely out of control on at least two of the downhills. You're thinking 'I have this - yeah, this is okay - oh sh*t!!!!' as you go flying and flailing down the hill and just hope that you come out of it in one piece. I was very lucky. The best part was knowing I will NEVER do this race again - and going out on what was such a pleasant, easy time - amazing how being in much better shape makes such a difference!

Thanks to everyone for all of their support and well wishes, and donations and general kindness. Especially to Rochelle for helping to motivate me to climb and run constantly, and John for kicking my core's ass once a week. I really have an amazing network of friends and family. Seriously though, i am definitely NOT doing this again. You can hold me to that! Any races I do will be local. Big kisses...

And the year was... 1988!

Looking hot in those mirrored glasses - sophomore year of high school. If only cross country skiing could always look so good.

Taper time

Well, it's officially 3 weeks until the race, and we have been ordered to start tapering. Personally I have mixed feelings about this. I felt like last year by the time the race came around I was out of shape because of the long taper. Of course, I was out of shape to begin with last year which I am sure makes a difference. Don't get me wrong - I trained to the best of my ability - or so I told myself. I may have fudged a bit though on exactly how close to the training plan I really came. (Does walking fast count for aerobic activity? What if it's down the block to a bar?) This year I have been following it pretty closely and am in much, much better shape than last. I was told definitely no strength training for the two weeks before the race 8 ( No more long skis - let's be honest, I haven't skied more than 3.5 hours any given day this entire season. Keep the cardio to a minimum. Yikes. I'd better taper my eating as well or I'll be a blimp for Anchorage.

I'm on pace to have a 3 hour 45 minute race this year. My goal is 3 hours and 30 minutes. My secret goal is to beat a teammate I don't like. Did I say that? Let's hope the snow is fast! No more sandpaper snow please. Please? Weather person?

On the dole

Well, a lot has happened since I last wrote... I got laid off a few days before Christmas. I guess that's the biggest thing. I've been skiing a ton, working out 8-10 hours a week as per our "training plan" and I bought new curtains.

Being laid off is actually somewhat traumatizing, maybe not for the reasons you would imagine (or maybe they are?). Our company was really small - 15 people in the US and 5 in France. Maybe even less after they fired 5 sales people who sucked up salaries and sold all of NOTHING. This was the kind of company where we were all friends, got along well (some more so than others of course) and had company meetings twice a month - yes, twice. As if once weren't enough. Somehow they neglected to mention the company wasn't doing well. Seems like there was ample opportunity to slip that into one of the meetings - no? Quite the contrary, the meetings were always really positive, and when asked how the latest round of funding was going, we were told it was going well! Hmmm. That was about one week before we were laid off. I was really mad - not to lose my job, because I was planning on looking for work in the Spring anyway - but because I felt so betrayed. Did they not have the courtesy to give us a warning? Even a 2 week warning? What were we just going to walk out and leave if they had prepared us even in the most vague way? How ridiculous. Maybe I was just lucky to have had the last two companies I worked for give us a warning, but honestly, that is just common courtesy. Especially when they are going to lay you off two days before the company is closed for a week and a half over the holidays. and give you 2 weeks severance. Um - excuse me but isn't that really like 2 days severance since we were supposed to be on holiday most of that time? And exactly who is going to be hiring between Christmas and New Year's Day? Just checking.

The real kicker was that I had been on vacation at ski camp (see previous post) until just 2 days before and they had called me with emergencies that I had to work on there! I was up until 1am the day before ski camp started and we had to be up at the crack of dawn to ski that next morning just to fix some bugs for work. The next day I spent at least 5 hours working as well. So they KNOW they are laying me off in a few days and have me work through my vacation? Talk about being taken advantage of.

But the reality of unemployed life is pretty good overall. I need to get a job by March for financial reasons, but am not stressing about that yet. I'm taking this opportunity to move up the ladder a bit, no more programming for me! My wrist will thank me for sure. I'm looking at primarily product and program management, some engineering management positions as well. It's going well! Last week was a good week - I got 4 calls for interviews for positions that sound good so far. So, we'll see how that goes.

Have you ever had to deal with the unemployment insurance office? The EDD? GOOD GRIEF. They don't even pretend they're going to answer your call. "Due to an unusually high call volume we can not answer your call at this time. Please try again later." . This for the two weeks I have been trying to contact them. I mean, are you kidding me? How can you call this a business? I missed my career counseling appointment so they haven't even paid me. Because I'm sure they are going to be helpful for my career. Sigh.

I will say that not working has left me plenty of time to go up to Tahoe and it's been great. I am skiing much better than last year - I came in first in our time trials if you don't count staff members (third if you do). I just feel really good about my skiing and am really psyched for the race this year. I can't believe how soon it is and I'm nervous already! 5 more weeks and counting... but if I ever even mention doing another TnT event someone please kick me.

Intermediate intermediate

Well, here I am at ski camp, and let me tell you it is *nothing* like band camp. or math camp. Not that I've ever been to either, but I was in band for many years, and also on the math team. Yes, there was a math team (in high school) and I was on it. I think I stunk, but I can't quite remember. So back to Methow Valley, Sun Mountain, Washington. Firstly, it is stunning here. I mean jaw-droppingly beautiful at all times. If only skiing weren't so hard I could better appreciate the surroundings.

The first morning you do a ski "sort" they like to call it (instead of ski "test" - you can see the psychological difference), where you ski for a bit in front of professional sorters who will tell you what group you belong to - beginner (3), intermediate (2) or advanced(1). There was no part of me who thought I would be in the advanced group, but I was really hoping to NOT be in the beginner group. I like to think of myself as an intermediate skater, and my ego would have been crushed otherwise. Lucky for me they yelled out "solid 2!" which is the intermediate group. It wasn't nearly as cold as it had been the week before, although I froze my butt off anyway - my own poor gear decisions. I had the necessary clothing, I just wasn't wearing it. So I fell into group 2b. Intermediate intermediate. Perfect! It also wasn't a big deal that I hadn't been on skis since March - it really takes no time to get back into it. What was a big deal was my lack of conditioning. I mean, I am in better shape now than I've been in a long time - weight training, running, rock climbing... well, let's just say it is not enough.

It turned out I had the best technique in my group of 8 which was very cool, but was by *far* in the worst shape. Granted, I was amongst triathletes and telemarkers and pro bikers and rowers, but still. It was a wake-up call! I actually wasn't the slowest, but the two slow people in my group dropped to lower groups after lunch, so then I became the slowest, which was not my desired position. In fact I said to Chris many times - just so long as I'm not the slowest. Oh well. At least I made it through the day in one piece! It was hard - really hard. 5 hours of cross country ski skating is no joke.

Day 2: classic (or striding) skiing. I was sorted into intermediate again which I was somewhat surprised by since I haven't strided in at least 15 years. It was great. Warmer - around 30 degrees, and our coach was amazing. I learned so much and really improved by the end of the day.

Every afternoon they videotape your group for 20 minutes doing various skills and drills and I must say there's nothing quite like watching yourself ski. It's really fun - and really embarrassing. I looked pretty good overall though, despite wearing about 3 times more layers than these cold weather folks, and being about 5 times poofier. It is quite nice to be able to laugh at yourself with a group of people though. Especially when you're skiing backwards across a field.

Day 3 - well, that's tomorrow. Another skating day! We'll see how long I last for, but it promises to be fun at any rate.

I have been kicking myself for at least not bringing my point and shoot camera. That and my down jacket which I rejected from my Africa trip and I rejected again for this trip even though it folds into its own pocket! Please if I ever ask you if I should bring my down jacket somewhere the answer is YES. YES YOU SHOULD.

Off the list

I was just reading my friends blog, when I noticed I was no longer in the list of blogs she likes. Sigh. Could it be that I haven't written in 3 months? Nah. Okay, maybe. Writing about motivation and desire and the battle between. Tonight was my weekly track workout with my cross country ski team - at least those of us who live in the city. Every Tuesday I try to think of every possible reason to not go. None of them are ever enough to keep me from going, but I really don't want to go after a long stressful day at work. All I really want to do is go home and sit on my couch - or go climbing. It's the same with the trainer I see on Mondays - battle. I told him on Monday that I almost call him every Monday morning to cancel (I never have canceled thus far). He said nearly everyone he works out with feels the same way, and it made me feel a lot better. It's just so strange that the high you feel afterwards and the good, positive, confident post-workout self does not eclipse the desire to bail on workouts.

I am leaving tomorrow for ski camp, and I am petrified. Two reasons really: 1. I was sick last week with a sinus infection and feel my cardio has suffered and 2. I haven't yet skied this season. Oh - and 3. it has been 0 degrees in the morning, "warming" to a balmy 18 degree high. Yikes. That's how it was when we were in Alaska in March, and it was painful. PAINFUL. I'm really looking forward to being taught by their professional skiers, and of course I'm hoping that I'm not the worst one there. Chris assures me there will be beginners, but I can't help but be worried about that.

The nice thing about the track workout this evening was that I was able to do a lot more than last year, and it felt really good seeing my progress. Also feeling confident and not dreading any of the parts of the workout. I see the people who intentionally come late to miss the jogging warm-up (only 3/4 of a mile usually). I see the people who do everything they can to avoid fully committing to the real cardio section. I used to be one of those people! I completely understand jogging anxiety. It's so nice to actually want to do the hard parts of the workout. It took me 35 years to get there! Of course it doesn't stop me from not wanting to go at all - but at least once I'm there I'm in it.

The Final Countdown

It's true, I go back to work in 2 days. Five months literally did just fly by. Sigh. I always used to think I was the type of person who had to work - that if I were to take time off I would be bored after a few weeks, just chomping at the bit to return to the labor force! Not true I have come to realize. I may be the type of person who needs to be doing something, but there are plenty of things that fall into the category of "something" that are not work related! Plenty. Those five weeks I had in San Francisco between Africa and Burning Man were so wonderful, I spent my days splitting time between the climbing gym and the ceramics studio (more heavily on the climbing side), with the once weekly foray into the land of personal training. Those were the days!

Portugal was really quite beautiful, and although I never got the hang of the language (at all) I was able to communicate relatively well with the folks there, most of whom don't speak any English. I don't think I ever even pronounced yes or no correctly. I think they appreciated my effort though. Were the dollar not plummeting to new all-time record lows every day I was there, Portugal would actually have been pretty cheap! Definitely far cheaper than Spain and Italy. People like to ask about the highlight of a trip - and while I couldn't come up with one from Africa, the highlight of this trip was definitely renting a car for my last two days and driving around Northern Portugal. I love a challenge!

One of the issues with traveling alone is only have two eyes, which (at least for me) move in the same direction at the same time. So reading a map while driving - especially a tiny detailed road map - is virtually impossible. I would never have been able to drive around Lisbon on my own unless I was just driving without an actual destination. So I decided to rent a car at the Porto airport, and drive into a less populated area of the country. My Lonely Plant guide had a map of Guimaraes, and it looked exactly like the kind of place I could navigate around on my own - there were approximately 4 streets on this map. So off I head to Guimaraes, only to realize when the highway plopped me off into a large city, that the map in Lonely planet was just a small artists rendition of the old historic area, which was who-knows-where in relation to the rest of the rather large city I found myself in with no map. Asking for directions in Portugal? *Not* easy. It reverted to pointing fingers, which is only good for the first street of the directions. Then which way? I was in a complete panic. Each rotary had at least 4 roads coming off of it, and the signage was not useful when I couldn't tell if the sign was directional, or the name of a street... Plus, where do you pull over? The streets are barely wide enough for the two directions of traffic! So oftentimes I had to drive blocks and blocks further than I wanted to before I could find a space to pull over. I miraculously found the hotel I was looking for - the building that said Hotel Toural was huge - but I couldn't find the door. I am not kidding, I ran around a giant block for over 15 minutes trying to figure out how to get in. I asked more people about the entrance to the hotel than I did how to get there in the first place. Finally I found it - there was another building not adjacent to that one which had the entrance. Phew. After that I got an actual map for the city, and it was (not surpisingly) very helpful.

Far more exciting for me than looking at castles, churches or palaces is driving. Driving in a new country where every road is a new road I've never been on before just makes me very, very happy. So off I went the next day on some road trip adventure, across the Northern part of Portugal, and it was so beautiful, a storm was coming in which made the landscapes even more dramatic. The water is a gorgeous dark sapphire blue, they have a number of very cool dams you can just drive across the top of, and many large windmills atop mountains as well. At one point of a particularly scenic part of the adventure Boy George's Karma Chameleon came on, followed closely by Brian Adams' Summer of 69. I was happy as a clam. Are clams happy? Who came up with that saying? I bet Wikipedia could tell us.

So now my adventures are over for the time being, I have transferred all of this blog over to my other one (which no one knew existed) http://cheeksmo.blogspot.com/ and I will try to write every now and again about the mundane experiences of life in San Francisco. I also did manage to get my photos up from Portugal which I am happy about http://www.flickr.com/gp/60211938@N00/2697k2

Thanks for reading along and all of the wonderful comments and encouragement!

Smokey Joe

(Sintra, Portugal: September 19, 2007)

What a day! The plan was to walk up a mountain to see two castles, and then come back down to town and go to the Toy Museum. After a bit of trying to guilt myself into going to see the castles, I decided to go to the toy museum first, and then see what I felt like doing afterward - knowing it would unlikely be climbing a mountain.

Sintra is a very small town so the whole Toy Museum was a bit of a crap shoot. Sure, the guide book said it was good, but it also gave a walking tour for 3 sections of Lisbon which was absolutely incomprehensible. I walk in and first thing I see? A giant dollhouse. I was in heaven! I wished it were higher off the ground, because my knees are old and creaky, but oh well. Only later did I realize everything was so low because children are their main clientele. Ha! The size of this dollhouse actually reminded me of the dollhouse I made when I was younger - in 7th grade - which coincided with the year I took wood shop! Ah, two good side stories.

So 7th grade was very exciting for me because I was out of that rinky dink elementary school and for the first time ever, I had choices! I was in charge of my educational destiny. I could choose 1. if I wanted to continue with band - or not. (I did). 2. if I wanted to speak a language. Yes, French please - which I still to this day think was the wrong choice. Spanish, people. Spanish! and 3. either Wood Shop or Home Ec. As if that's a choice! I can't imagine why in the world I would have wanted to take a class on cooking and sewing. I already knew how to do both well enough to get by, and hello - wood shop! I could use powertools and make things! So I, along with one other female Rebecca someone, took wood shop along with every guy in our grade - roughly 100. I took wood shop because I wanted to make things from wood. She took wood shop to flirt with every guy in the class. A pretty smart plan for someone I didn't consider to be all too bright. Then, at the end of the year when the whole school was in the auditorium getting end of year academic awards they announced the winner of the wood shop award: Sara Chieco. I nearly fell out of my seat. It's true at that age I paid a bit more attention to detail than my male counterparts (sanding is a time consuming task), and did better on the measurement tests, but a girl winning the award? Unheard of. I look back proudly on that moment today, but at the time I was completely and utterly mortified, and I'm sure was teased endlessly about being a lesbian.

Story #2 back to the dollhouse. Not much of a story, actually. I built myself a dollhouse, and it was GIANT. Not quite so giant as the one in the front of the museum, but I was no famous dollhouse maker, and it was absurdly huge. I hadn't planned it to be, it just turned out that way. Sure, I glued each wooden roof shingle on by hand, but this dollhouse in the museum has real red clay roof tiles! I did also put wallpaper on and had a staircase, but this one had an elevator. Mine was definitely the red-neck version. It never quite fit together perfectly, and I'm not sure it ever made it out of the basement. You know when you're just out of college, living in the real world and it seems like your mother makes up excuses to call you every week? I remember one such phone call: Hey, can we throw out that dollhouse yet? The cats have been using it to dispose of their unwanted dead prey bits. Yes mom, you can throw it out. Did I mention this dollhouse in the museum had a dollhouse inside of it?!? More like a diorama, but still. Oh, and the crowning touch: a full-on religious procession outside of the cobbled courtyard replete with strange religious figure on a pole.

Then next to it was an Eiffel tower taller than me built from an erector set. If I wasn't quite in heaven yet, I was now. This guy who I imagine I am supposed to know since he name was all over the place built it when he was 15, and they have re-erected it now, 65 years later. Unreal. I had an erector set! I loved messing around with screwdrivers when I was young. Have I told you the screwdriver story yet? When I was about 4 years old I took ballet classes. One time I went into class with a screwdriver in my pocket probably from playing with my erector set. The teacher found it (how did she find it?) and kicked me out of class! I had to go home as punishment. Go figure.

Other museum highlights include their visual history of Lego's. I wasn't around for the super fancy sets or anything (after my time), but they had ones with wheels, and transparent windshield-like pieces when I was little, and oh how I loved them. The museum had Japanese robots from the 50's. Joy, you would have freaked out. There were these really fancy old tricycles and mini cars and a mini Range Rover (?) and then next to them what looked like a few branches put together - titled 'Bicycle made by children in Tanzania'. Enough to make you cry, really. Sure there were some old dolls that were super creepy because all but a few tufts of their hair had fallen out in a terrible pattern, but overall the museum was truly amazing. I may not be a fan of trains or small military figures (sorry fellas), but there was plenty for me to enjoy. Something to check out if you haven't seen them already are Kokeshi dolls from Japan. Stunning.

Oh, and how could I forget Smokey Joe? A mean lean pressed tin fire fighting machine.

Pleasure

(Lisbon, Portugal: September 17, 2007)

So I am reading a book on this trip called Eat, Pray, Love. It's come highly recommended from a few friends, and Isabel was kind enough to give it to me on tape! Of course I left it at home though and wound up buying the book at the airport.

The author is talking about her life and her travels after a large change in her life and she decided to stay in Rome for the first 4 months of her travels to experience pleasure. She talks about the trouble she has truly letting go and enjoying herself fully. One reason for this is the American inability to relax. That Americans don't know how to do nothing. This is exactly one of the major issues I was trying to address in my time off. I don't know how to do nothing. I hardly even know how to do one thing at a time! My desire for efficiency has taught me to multi-task perpetually - mind you not to the point of sacrificing quality, but it does teeter on the edge, especially as I get older and my brain feels a little less capable. I essentially had 2 goals for these 5 months off. One was to learn how to relax and be okay with doing nothing, even if it was just for a few hours. The second was to figure out what I wanted to do about my current living situation.

I wasn't sure if I was any closer to learning how to relax, but I think I have gotten a bit better, although it's only been apparent (to me) secondarily through slight behavioral differences. I seem to be less organized now. For most people that would not be such a good thing, but for me it's progress! I came to Portugal with only a place to stay in the first city, and (gasp) I didn't have a packing list for the trip. This is probably the first trip I have gone on *ever* in my adult life where I didn't have a packing list. Guess what? I didn't forget anything! At least nothing I am missing or remember. I also started packing for Burning Man 6 days ahead of time. Typically I start 6-7 weeks ahead of time. The difference though is in my response to that. Normally I would get into a bit of a panic and go into overdrive in a mad flurry of packing and organizational activity. This time, I didn't care. I mean theoretically I did, and I would say to myself that I'd better get my act together. But emotionally I didn't care at all - if I had I would have moved faster. Right? Right. I do feel like I need another month off though. I had so little time between travels and it was so packed that I wasn't able to really do the relaxing thing. I know, cry you a river. Although I was able to spend a solid 4 weeks going to the climbing gym every day and that for me was most enjoyable. That may very well be my definition of relaxing. I also went back to the ceramics studio and started working again really for the first time in a year and a half. That was really hard - I have no idea why but my being did not want to be there working again, so I had to start working on completely different forms than I was previously working on and that seemed to go over well with myself.

The trouble with this kind of travel is that I have never seen any of these places before, so I feel compelled to cram in every single item in the book I can possibly fit in. Relaxation is not an option. I cut myself some slack at night and don't force myself to go out, but daytime is chock full of tourist activities. I feel like in order to really let myself enjoy a place I would need to live there for a minimum of 3 months (if I were unemployed). Which brings me to the resolution of my second issue - what to do about my living situation. As some of you know, I was wanting to move to NY, and this 5 month break was my response to that - to try to figure out if I really wanted to move or not. I figured travel would give me a different perspective on that. It has! So far as I can tell, I don't want to move to NY, or anywhere else in the US for that matter. I do want to move to Europe though. Not so strongly that I will go about doing it as soon as I return, but it will be in the back of my mind and instruct future decisions that relate to my whereabouts. I don't see myself as a career ex-pat, but I would love to spend several years over here. I think the culture would be very nurturing for an over-worker like myself and hey, free health care!

Luggageless no more

(Lisbon, Portugal: September 16, 2007)

Let me just say I don't think I knew the definition of humid before coming to Lisbon! Bikram Yoga eat your heart out.

Yet I have completely and utterly fallen in love with this city! I just came from what could possibly be the best museum I have ever had the pleasure of experiencing. The Calouste Gulbenkian Museum - it was called the hidden treasure of Europe and they were not kidding. Have you ever seen Persian ceramics from the 13th century? Please do.

So in the vein of my favorite trash magazine, USWeekly, here's the 'Portuguese - they're just like us!' (instead of 'Stars - they're just like us!')
1. There is a collective grumbling when the person at the head of the grocery checkout line starts to make a fuss over who knows what.
2. Men yell unintelligible comments at you from their cars.
3. They make out like teenagers in the back of their cars - or more specifically, teenagers make out like teenagers in the back of their cars.
4. They make no sense. So I checked into the residential in Porto, sans luggage of course, already frazzled, and I go to my room which has had no less than 17 packs of cigarettes smoked in it during the past 24 hours. I call downstairs to say that I had asked for a non-smoking room. The woman responds that all rooms are non-smoking, but some people smoke anyway. I ask her why then do they have 2 ashtrays in the room? It's a non-smoking hotel she replies. Um, okay - gee, I wonder why people would think smoking was okay? Hey - no drinking allowed here so I'm going to put 3 bottles of good alcohol next to you. ?!?
5. They try to screw you over. At this same hotel I notice on the door it has 2 prices listed - one for single occupancy and one for double. 25 Euros difference! I find it strange since I know I was quoted the double occupancy rate. So when I'm checking out I point out that since I am ONE person I should get the single occupancy rate for the room. Oh no, she says, you asked for a double. I told you I was one person though, and it's the same room! It's not as if requesting a double gets you a better room. Plus, the common nomenclature for my situation here seems to be double room - single occupancy. Well, she informs me a single guy paid for a double room because he requested it just yesterday. As if I care what that fool did! What a sucker! So finally she calls the boss and he offers me a rate 30 Euros lower. Go figure.

Definitely some big differences though. Let me preface this by saying that I have walked a LOT in the past 5 days. I can't even begin to count the mileage, let alone number of stairs ascended.
* Number of people I have seen panhandling/begging on the street: 1. Yes, that's right, one. I hadn't even realized I hadn't seen any until today when I saw the first which seemed so out of place. Coming from San Francisco that's a pretty big difference.
* Poo - lots of it, mostly though not exclusively from dogs. I have come to realize that the old song "Shoo fly, don't bother me" started out as "Poo-fly don't bother me" and got misinterpreted somewhere along the way. That's really the problem with all of the dog poo here. I mean who wants a fly sitting on a pile of crap and then on your bare skin?? That and the fact that you have to look down all of the time, and wind up missing some pretty cool things not directly on the street in front of you.
* Apparently you can walk through certain sections of a park in broad daylight and be openly propositioned. I accidentally just walked through one such area. One man even hissed at me like a snake! Yeah buddy, that's likely to happen. Yuck. At least in San Francisco that only happens after dark.

So I was sitting at a port wine house in Porto, and a man was talking to a couple from New York next to me - he was from Canada and New Jersey, but first generation from Portugal. His whole family still lives here. He was truly in awe of all of the ecclesiastical architecture. He asked them their religion - and said how so long as you weren't an atheist you would be so inspired by the amount of work that these selfless people put into the creation of the churches. Awe-inspiring in a way that American architecture isn't. Granted, I think he was a little off base by assuming one needs to be religious to appreciate religious architecture, but his sentiment really struck me because that's how I feel about Burning Man. That's what I'm always reminded of by newcomers, as I just take it for granted now. How incredibly inspiring it is to see people put a large amount of their time and energy into something coming entirely from a place of love rather than money or obligation. He did use the word selfless though, the definition of which is part of a debate I've had with myself for quite some time now. To me, selfless means to do something for others, rather than yourself. Whereas selfish would be to act in your own best interest doing something for yourself. I know that creating art at Burning Man for me was both for others and myself - you give a great gift to other people but their reaction and appreciation is so fulfilling it seems to me almost a selfish act. You're creating for others but rewarded handily in turn by them. I wonder if selflessness has become money related - if you are doing something and not getting paid for it, or not getting paid well for it (teachers, for example) then you are acting in a selfless manner. If you create something for a large sum of money, even if you are doing it to affect other people's well being it seems like that could not be considered selfless? Just something I have thought a lot about. I have a feeling if the happiness of others could be quantified monetarily than all of the people giving at Burning Man would be considered selfish.

Ah, and one final selfish plug: I just found out I have a gallery show June 11-23rd. Please come! 8 )

Back on the blog

(Porto, Portugal: September 12, 2007)

Here I am again, feels like I never left this generic smoky Internet cafe!

So I decided this time to treat myself and fly business class to Spain (followed by super low budget to Portugal). They give you a whole toiletries bag! (Note: this is foreshadowing) How excited was I? Like a young schoolgirl with a new backpack going through every pocket, I devoured the gift bag. Ooohh, a shoe bag! What in the world do I need a shoe bag for? To protect my very dirty running shoes from the slightly cleaner airplane floor? Who cares, it's free. A shoehorn! I started to sense a foot theme - and I for one could use some help squeezing my feet back into my shoes after a long flight anyway. A pair of small brown socks! OOOooohhh a combo comb and brush! Like a jackknife it unfolds - and I am sure could in a dark dangerous situation be used as a weapon prop as well! Sweet. Of course there was the obligatory eau de toilette bottle. I'm pretty sure the woman next to me would have thrown me out of the seat-pod if I had sprayed it to see how it smelled? The only disconcerting object was the very, very tiny toothpaste tube. You know how when you were little making model cars there would be some tiny tube of hard-core glue which would require you to puncture the metal top before the toxic fumes could come out? Well, this toothpaste had a metal top that required puncturing. sketchy. I came up with the following improvement: include those compression socks that prevent your feet and ankles from swelling, and do away with the shoe horn and brown socks entirely!

So from the jovial tone of the first paragraph you are probably thinking my time is going swimmingly. It was! Until my bag never arrived in Madrid from the states. I have come to find out that Iberia is notorious here for lost bags. Apparently the 2 hour connection time I had in Chicago O'Hare was not enough to get my bag from K16 to K19 - a total of 300ft. But they can't confirm that my bag is in Chicago. Off I flew to Porto with no luggage - and I mean NO LUGGAGE. Luckily I had thought to wear my pajamas/lounge wear on the flight out - so I had a pair of hot pink velour pants on, and a black wool short sleeved shirt. It's hot in Portugal. Really hot. Did I mention the black wool shirt somehow turned out to be see through as well? I thought man, I really need a happy pill right now. Good thing they're in my luggage! As well as my allergy medication. As well as EVERYTHING except a camera, 2 lenses, 3 books and knitting.

So luckily they gave me a number to call to check on my bag - it's nice to know it's as difficult to deal with airlines here as at home - and in a language I don't speak nonetheless. Imagine the maze of menu options in Portuguese. Well, didn't matter much, they never answered the phone after being on hold for 30 minutes (sixty dollars later). I will supposedly have my bag delivered to Portugal tomorrow after it comes on the next flight from Chicago. Betting pool anyone?

I´m happy to report I'm sitting here in a bright orange tank top, and beige embroidered skirt with bow at the top... let's just say I was desperate. For a while before I found the skirt I was wearing the bright orange tank top with the hot pink velour track pants! Now that was a look and a half.

Anyway, I'm in remarkably good spirits all things considered, I could write about it after all, which would have been impossible this morning. At least I have my camera! Some underwear would be nice though. Well, tomorrow's another day - and let me just say that so far, Porto is gorgeous. See how the toiletries bag took on a much greater importance by the end? Too bad there's no soap in it.

State-Side Once Again

(South Salem, NY, USA: June 30, 2007)

Ah, back in the states. I guess there weren't nearly as many obvious adjustments to make as I expected there would be. It felt pretty normal to be back. Part of the problem is that I suffer from a bit of culture shock each time I come back to Westchester as it is - from San Francisco. So coming back here from Africa wasn't all too different. Lots of eating disordered older women in giant SUV's with plastic bodies dressed in exercise clothing. You know - the usual.

One of the main differences and the one I am still not adjusted to is water. I am still spitting constantly while I shower to prevent even a drop from getting into my mouth. Unnecessary here! Tap water - good to drink. Ice cubes - not a problem. Raw vegetables - should be fine. Having good drinking water is such a luxury I never thought about before. I mean, sure, I hear about it as a problem in third world countries all of the time, but it really it surprising how much of your time and psyche is occupied by thoughts of water when you're traveling. When will I be able to buy more, will it be good, will I get sick (again), etc. I got a terrible parasite when I was away that really was traumatizing. A good dose of Cipro and away it went, but still. No fun. It's not like there are nice clean bathrooms with toilet paper there!

The other noticeable difference is space. We like a lot of space. Space in our homes, space in our cars, space when we walk, when we sit, how we interact. The Dala-dala's are the rectangular Toyota mini-van type vehicles used for local transportation in Tanzania. They can fit 18 people. What they do is add another bench and squeeze in 26. 26 people!!!! These are NOT large vehicles - I'd feel claustrophobic every time I saw them pass by. Truly sardines. Of course Americans couldn't do that because we're too large. Even if we could, we wouldn't. Fights would break out! I've seen it before on San Francisco public buses because someone is too close to someone else or accidentally touched them. These people are squished against each other, yet look completely relaxed. The houses here are also very large. Not just the large Westchester Mansions, but even the smaller houses. We have an assumed right to privacy and if we can afford it, give each member of the family their own room. It's such decadence. Then each house needs to have as much land around it as possible. High ceilings. The whole 9.

We as Americans just have a very large buffer zone around us - which I happen to really like.

So lessons learned: who knows. I don't know. I've thought a lot about it, and I just am not sure what if any change will come of this trip. I want to go back to school for either international policy work or research biology. Probably the latter. This won't be possible for a number of years though, I definitely can't afford it now. Sugar daddy? Anyone?

The one thing that was apparent though is that in places like East Africa individuals can make a difference. I don't ever feel like that here. Sure, I give money to non-profits. I call my senators when Move On or Act for Change tells me to. I send countless emails to politicians urging them not to vote for whatever bill. I don't feel like it's helping though. I just do it because other people tell me it helps. In Africa you can go to a tiny village, and see the water pump someone donated making a huge difference. The doctor that Campi Ya Kanzi hired to help the Maasai of the Chyulu Hills. A donated vehicle, a water tank, condom education. Granted, some help can be well-intentioned but misguided and detrimental. I definitely want to return at some point to be involved in a project helping people. If people who have the means each just helped one village out, even if it's just building a new school building, many many people would be living slightly easier lives.

At my grandmother's unveiling a few days ago the rabbi said that we keep peoples memories alive and honor their spirit by our action and our aspiration.

It's so Modern!

(London, UK: June 25, 2007)

Ah, high speed internet. Don't get me wrong, I still use dial-up from time to time. For whatever reason my parents can't get DSL, so I use dial-up whenever I'm there. East African internet is not dial-up though, at least not as we think of it.

The reality is that the internet hardly works there. Sometimes it's just down for an undefined period of time (can be days). Other times certain sites come up, others don't. This happened to me continuously where I could log into one Yahoo account, but the other wouldn't work. Or the person next to me could log in, but I couldn't at all. Many times you could log into Yahoo, but not actually access your mail. So frustrating! At the best of times you could access everything, the computer wouldn't freeze, and it was only about 20x slower than broadband. It took me 45 minutes to place on online order through ebay while I was there. So here in the UK waiting for my plane to NY, I am living in the lap of luxury!

I wanted to say a little something about the transportation in Africa. For those of you reading our friend Liz's blog (she's in Ghana with the Peace Corp) you already know transportation is crap. East Africa is no different.

The first flight I took to Rwanda I needed to be there 2 hours early - no problem! I'll just leave plenty of time in the cab. Well, driving across Nairobi can apparently take nearly 2 hours instead of 45 minutes. So then I was stressed out - as I would be about being late. Typical Sara. So I go to check my bags - but Oh! Lo and behold the print out "confirmation" I have is not an e-ticket. I need to go to an office to get a paper ticket. Uh oh. So now I am panicked I will miss my flight. I get into the office and the fears are confirmed. There are two people behind the desk, and many others waiting. It takes 45 minutes for me to be helped. Why is that you ask? Oh, because one of the women decided to chat with a friend on the phone for 30 minutes without helping anyone, and the other woman took *forever* to write out paper tickets for people. Luckily, my flight was delayed by a number of hours, so I didn't miss it. I decided in the future to make sure to leave plenty of time when going to the airport, and I made them give me tickets for all of my flights then as well, so I should have been all set for future flights.

Ha! the next one from Kigali, Rwanda to Zanzibar had a layover in Nairobi. I got up at 4am to be on time for my flight at 6:45am - funny thing was, the airport wasn't even open 2 hours in advance of the flight (not very funny, really). So I check in for my 2 flights which are both on the same airline, get to Nairobi.... Surprise! My flight to Zanzibar has been canceled, but no one told me in Rwanda, where they could have rerouted me. Oh, but no worries the next flight was only 13 hours later. You can imagine my excitement to wait in a ratbag airport where people are allowed to smoke inside. All of my preparation was for naught there!

Then I wanted to leave Zanzibar, and thought it would be easy to get a flight out to Arusha, I had seen plenty listed on line. Ha again! I went to all 5 airline offices in vain the first time around. Three of them despite advertising flights, had none on Friday? Why? Why not. Air Tanzania only flew into Kilimanjaro, not Arusha as they had advertised. Precision Air had a wonderful piece of paper taped to the desk: Non-stop flight to Kilimanjaro 11am daily. Perfect! Oh, I'm sorry, we don't have that flight. But it's advertised right here on this paper! Yes, but that is starting sometime next week. Hmm... funny thing was the paper looked like it was at least a year old - tattered and stained. So I get a flight out on Air Tanzania, the reason they weren't flying into Arusha is because the airport is closed for 3 months. In typical African fashion they would never give you such useful information though. I had to figure that one out on my own.

So I am leaving Zanzibar and the security guy tells me the machine is broken and asks if he can search my bag. He also says in the same breath that I don't have to let him search it. So I say that I'd prefer he didn't since it was packed like sardines. He says fine he won't and just stands there. this goes back and forth a few more times (the machine is broken, I can search your bag, or I don't have to) and I of course am growing more confused. Finally another employee whispers to me "tip". OH, I exclaim, you want me to pay you money! Yes, he says. How much? He won't tell me how much. So I give him the equivalent of 3 dollars and pass right through security. Sweet! My first security bribe.

So having learned oh so many lessons I am sure that the charter to southern Kenya will go smoothly. I arrive 30 minutes early to the tiniest airport I have ever seen (it's one shack). they tell me to wait anywhere - funny thing is, there weren't any chairs, so I go sit outside on the steps. We were supposed to be there by 9:30am for a 10am flight. Seven of us. So I wait. and I wait... and suddenly it's 9:20 and no one is there yet. Then it's 9:30 and still no one. What are the chances I am in the right place if no one else is there on time? I call the tour company and they don't answer. Then I am in a complete panic (and I am sick as well, to top it all off). Where are they? Where am I supposed to be? What's *happening*?? I get a call at 9:50am about 100 grey hairs later: people are on their way, we'll be leaving soon, not to worry. TYPICAL AFRICA.

My last anecdote is regarding changing my return ticket to come back to NY 2 days earlier. My cell phone is long since dead (no charger) so I need to call from the hotel. Talk about expensive - 6$/minute. First I call BA, wait on hold for 7 minutes and decide to cut my losses after 42 dollars and still no live person. Then they call the local office in Dar Es Salaam for me. I go through the flights with the woman and finally I ask how much it will cost. Oh, she says, I have no idea. Well, how will I know then? She says well, we have a huge line here, I don't have the time to do it now, I can call you back? I explain I am on a hotel phone and she says she'll email me. When will you email me? Oh, I couldn't say. Today? Yes, by the end of the day. I wish I had asked when the end of the day was... Needless to say, no email, no nothing. I bite the bullet and call American Airlines. 1 hour (360$ later) i have changed my flights. I refused to pay for all of it though, I argued that I had only been on the phone 30 minutes, which was a lie. So my grand total came to 268$ for the phone calls. You can imagine my frugal self literally curdling over that.

Really though, of all of the travel adventures I am so looking forward to not smelling terrible diesel fumes constantly. I must have taken a few years off of my life inhaling the thick black smoke that permeated every single parcel of air. Apparently the diesel there has some other bad additives that make it smoke so badly. Regardless, it's overwhelming.

Off to NY now! I'll write once more to wrap up once I'm back stateside.

She's a Beauty

(Kilimanjaro, Tanzania: June 24, 2007)

You may be wondering - did I make it? Well, yes! … and no.

We started out as a group of 7, with about 30 porters and two guides: Victor and James. I have done a fair amount of serious backpacking in the past – but always carrying my own gear. It was strange to have porters carrying all of our gear – all we carried were small daypacks with water and extra layers. Not that I’m complaining about carrying 20 pounds instead of 55!

There aren’t any easy routes up Mt. Kilimanjaro - they’re all pretty much the same. The difference is how many days you take to summit. Our route was supposed to be easier because we took 6 days to ascend instead of 4 allowing for extra time to acclimate. The first two days were surprisingly easy. Not too steep, slow pace, minor altitude gain – we were only at 11,500 feet after 2 days. I was really relieved my sinus infection and lack of recent exercise wasn't an issue. Mind you, the second night was our first below freezing – it was so incredibly cold, and only got colder. You can imagine that after drinking the requisite three liters of water each day, I had to make many trips outside the tent at night. Torture!! I would lie there for at least 30 minutes before getting up the energy and willpower to even unzip the sleeping bag. As soon as that frigid air leaks in though, it’s time to get up and out as soon as possible. Sometimes I would decide to wait until morning, which was equally unpleasant.

Day three was tough for me. It was our first day at higher altitude (12,000+) and I was light-headed and a bit nauseous, and generally not feeling like myself during the hike. I almost passed out once. As soon as we got into camp at 13,000 feet I had an instant headache – it was so severe that I was incapacitated. My vision was throbbing, seeing spots, and if my head were in any position other than upright, it felt like it would actually explode. I was certain I would need to be evacuated, or walked out in the middle of the night. I didn’t think I would be able to continue. Amazingly, many Advil later my headache was gone by the next morning. It was a terrible night. Thank you Ibuprofen!

Day four went well actually, we went up to almost 15,000 feet for the first time. Unfortunately one of the girls in the group, Daisy, wasn’t feeling well, so I walked to the next camp with her while the others got to do a little rock scrambling up Lava Tower. I was feeling completely better, much to my surprise. She got really sick though, which was really hard for our group.

The next day was the first really strenuous day. We’d been walking for up to 8 hours each day, but with a reasonable amount of elevation gain. Day five was Barranco Wall day - 1500 feet of scrambling straight up. Unfortunately Daisy couldn’t make it up the wall due to altitude sickness and had to be walked down and evacuated after she passed out. That was a really big loss for the team – it made it apparent how quickly our health could change in those conditions. I felt really strong that day, but another team member, Andrew, started to get a stomachache, either dehydration or altitude sickness. The next day was our summit day so we were all hoping for the best.

Spending each night in near zero degree temperatures at high altitude made for really difficult sleeping. I would sleep for about 3-4 hours, then be awake for the majority of the night and if I was lucky fall back to sleep for an hour or two in the morning. The night before and after the summit day we camped at 15,180 feet, which was terrible for me. Since I couldn’t take the high altitude medication I was a bit of a wreck.

Day six, aka summit day, started out poorly. I felt terrible after another sleepless night. I was winded just walking to the mess tent, which was no more than 20 feet from my tent. My body felt like it was a zombie body someone had attached to me. To say I had no energy was an understatement. I was hoping that by the time we were moving I would perk up a bit. Hardly! Andrew only made it for an hour before he had to turn back – he was too low energy to continue which was so very sad. He wanted to summit so badly, and had definitely trained more than any of the rest of us. That really was hard for me to see him turn back. We still had about 4 hours to go until lunch, and then at least 2 more hours to summit and the trail was straight up - 4000 feet straight up. Every step was harder than the prior step. Our leader, Victor, kept checking to make sure I could continue – I’m sure I looked like the walking dead. At one point I knew I had to turn back, because every shuffle of a step was more energy than I had. A porter offered to carry my daypack, so I continued on at a snail’s pace literally dragging one foot in front of the other. A little further along I again said I was ready to go back, but I wanted a slightly better view to take a photo, so I decided to go up to the big rock ahead. Then to the next switchback… I kept setting goals that were no more than 30 feet away each time, knowing that I had to try my best to get to the lunch spot because I was out of water and food. After what seemed like an eternity of trudging up this FREEZING cold, blustery wind blown high altitude desert, I made it to the lunch spot with the team, and just sat and cried for a long time. That didn’t help my breathing!

Rather than turn back then, I followed the team, knowing I would not make it to the summit, but just trying to get as high as possible before I needed to turn back. I had already decided I would not allow myself to go so far that I needed to be carried down, so I used that as criteria to evaluate if I could take another step or not.

About 45 minutes later I started to get loopy and light-headed, and before I knew it we were at the top!! Not the Uhuru Peak summit point, but the top of the crater rim, 19,000 feet, Stella point. I had made it! I honestly could not believe I had gotten myself up there. It was truly a miracle, and I was so proud and so grateful. My mind actually dragged my body up that mountain.

I knew it was time for me to turn back as the remaining 4 team members continued along the glaciated and snow covered crater rim to the highest point.

I somehow made it back down – nearly running down the scree and deep loose sand with no control over my body. That night was so hard to stay at 15,000 feet - the altitude did not get along well with me. Two days later and we were back in Arusha in such comfortable beds – it’s amazing to sleep through the night and not be a frozen block of ice each time you wake up! Such luxury.

So I got my certificate for making it to Stella point, and now I know – I am not doing any more high peaks – there are plenty of lower ones to climb!

Twas the Night Before

(Arusha, Tanzania: Thursday, June 14)

Climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro, and all through the house...

[Note: This is an entry with a parental warning attached as per their request. Although there's nothing violent, or sexually explicit, it may be nerve-wracking for them.]

... we were all freaking out basically. Me more so than the 6 others. I came to Africa in great shape and have since become completely out of shape. Having a sinus and tonsil infection for the last week didn't help! I spent nearly all of the time in southern Kenya in bed - after running out of books I wound up reading the Da Vinci Code - not bad. I am feeling much better, but still not 100%.

So what exactly am I afraid of?
1. That I will need to kill this woman on the trip with us who already drives me nuts. If you think I'm a control freak... She actually had the audacity to say to the leader who is taking us up Kili: would you like to explain how it works or should I? YOU? Who are you??
2. That my inability to take high altitude medication (Diamox) due to the fact it's a sulfa drug is going to be a problem for me. Everyone who hears I can't take it gives me the UH OH look before saying 'Oh, I'm sure you'll be fine'. The reality is that over 15,000 feet, our bodies just aren't able to function as well as they normally do, and without Diamox, it's much harder to acclimate.
3. Snow. When our guide was there 2 weeks ago the crater camp (upper most camp over 18,000 feet) was under a lot of snow. Yikes.
4. COLD. It is below 0 (not 32 degrees, zero) at the last camp and for the day or two prior to summit. I can not imagine how I will be able to keep warm, but everyone else seems to be able to do it, so I'm sure it will work out somehow!
5. General illness paranoia. As I have now had one *terrible* stomach bug/illness requiring Cipro, and this sinus thing, I sense my immune system doesn't really like Africa. but I do!

Positive developments:
1. We can summit and then drop to a lower camp for the night, skipping trying to sleep at 18,000+ feet. I have a sneaking suspicion I will do that, if I make it that far. I mean, when I make it that far.
2. There's only one so far, but a list of one isn't really a list.

Well, I'm going to try my hardest, but be completely honest about my physical state and symptoms and hope for the best! They have a very high success rate with Kili summits (this outfitter) so my fingers are crossed.

We spent the last 4 days in the Chyulu Hills in southern Kenya on property which is "co-owned" by an Italian couple and the Maasai. There are approximately 7000 Maasai in that area. They have a doctor now for the first time, who we briefly visited. He has no electricity, no running clean water (they need to boil it), no lab to get tests done, no transportation, and no means of communication (radio, phone). He described how in the month he's been there it's been incredibly hard, especially since the way to transport really critical patients the 60K over the dirt road to the nearest hospital is via motorbike, or a random passing vehicle. If the patient comes in at night, they have to wait until the morning! Talk about a brave man! He is amazing. I can't even imagine. The camp we stayed at was really inspiring - the owner Luca has won a lot of environmental awards for it, recycling water to turn into drinking water for animals, solar power, collecting rainwater and dew on PVC sheets for the camp. They have a lot of great collective programs they are doing with some of the villages too, but the juxtaposition of west over traditional culture is really difficult to process. I'm still not sure if it seems like the right thing to be doing or not. It does seem like they are helping a lot of people, but my Western evaluation may be completely off base. They have an interesting program to save lions. the problem is that the lions kill the Maasai livestock (cows are the valuable ones) and then the Maasai kill the lions in return. Luca has a program to give credits to owners whose livestock has been killed by a lion. If no lions in the area have been killed for 90 days thereafter then the Maasai can trade in the credit for a good amount of money in return. It seems to be working very well. I don't know enough to know how sustainable it is. You can read about what they are doing here: http://www.maasaifoundation.org/

OK, off to bed.

Potentially Polygamous

(Arusha, Tanzania: June 9, 2007)

Soundtrack: Africa by Toto. Have you ever had the same song stuck in your head for 10 days?

I just spent the last 10 days on safari – what a terrific time. It turns out we (Jon and I) had a guide, Marc Baker, who has to be the best guide in Tanzania. He’s a biologist, originally from England, who was raised in Tanzania by research biologist parents. He seemingly knows everything there is to know about Tanzanian ecology. We spent 10 days in a Landrover with him traveling across Ngorongoro Crater and Conservation Area, Ndutu, Central Serengeti, Western Corridor, and Loliondo. Rather than bore you with a list of the animals we saw, you can refer to Appendix B. My favorite animals were spotted hyena, warthogs, giraffe, lions, secretary birds and ostrich.

Animal highlights:
Hippos stay in the water all day, and then graze at night. Nocturnal if you will. It is highly unusual to see one out of the water during the day. Well, we did! We even followed it and got in between it and the swamp at one point. Whoops. Have you ever seen a 2-ton animal running straight at the side of your vehicle with incredible speed? Marc never had either – first time for everything! It stopped no more than 3 feet away at which time I was already bracing myself for the massive impact. Marc’s first question: Did you get the shot? [side note: I did get a shot of it charging – somehow my finger pushed the button without my knowing]

I happen to be a bit squeamish, especially in regards to gore. We were really lucky to be able to watch a lioness feeding on a zebra. It’s not the easiest thing to watch, especially when the back half of the zebra is already gone and he’s been out in the African sun all day. Tough but well worth it, and the blood is really red!

Random Musings:
So in Tanzania the marriage license is only signed by the man, and has 3 boxes on it – Monogamous, Polygamous, and the good old catch-all: Potentially Polygamous. ?!?

Marc is very into conservation, he was just in the states last year giving a talk at UC Santa Cruz on the balance between tourism and conservation. What luck to be able to have such a great resource to talk to! Conservation is SUCH a difficult problem. Fifty percent of the GDP of Tanzania is aid money. While aid is certainly helpful in some situations, it also creates dependency, which can be really dangerous. With an employment (not unemployment) rate of 30%, how do you wean villages off of aid food and medical supplies when they have little to no means of ever making a living? Part of the problem with providing aid is that while a typical family would previously have 5-6 children, half of whom wouldn’t survive, the same family is now able to (barely) feed 5-6 children. Without serious family planning education, you wind up with a population that grew 2.3% last year and is set to double sooner than later. The resources of the country can’t even provide for the existing population, let alone a growing population. Aid will not just increase and continue forever. It’s a very, very difficult situation. The good news is that there is a program that is very successful educating women about family planning and providing birth control in Northern Tanzania.

Many of the projects that are done to “help” people are ill thought out, with the recipients not being part of the planning process. A water pipe was put in a village (which cost tons of aid money) so that the women wouldn’t need to walk 5K each way every day to get water. Within 2 weeks of its completion the women had torn it out of the ground and destroyed it. When they were asked why, they explained that for them walking to the water was how they enjoyed spending their days. They brought their children, all of the women got together to chat, they did laundry, the children played, they were away from their husbands for the day, and then they went home to cook at night. With the water in the village they never saw each other, the husbands just found other work for them to do, and they hated it. One lesson I have learned through the work I do is that if you are creating something and you don’t include the end user or a representative group of them in the planning, then you wind up with something they don’t want and won’t willingly use.

I’m off to southern Kenya tomorrow morning and then starting the Kilimanjaro climb in 5 days! I am completely scared – 19,000 feet is no joke, the altitude is not agreeable to the human body, so you get up and get down. I put on pounds of padding during the safari, which included eating 3 huge meals everyday and sitting in a car nearly the entire time. Yikes. Wish me luck!

Appendix A: Technical Failures
Sunglasses: Arm broke into two pieces.
Watch: “Water-proof” it isn’t. First it got water in it, then the water killed it.
Cell Phone: Left the charger behind in Zanzibar. It’s waiting for me in Kilimanjaro, where I will hopefully pick it up in a week.

Appendix B: Animals seen
(in order or approximate numbers viewed)
wildebeest
tsetse fly
flamingo
zebra
gazelle (Grant’s and Thompson’s)
buffalo
hippo
olive baboon
impala
guinea fowl
giraffe
ostrich
elephant
warthogs
lions
gorilla (Rwanda)
red colobus monkey (Zanzibar)
vultures
tawny eagle
crocodiles
spotted hyena
jackal (black backed and golden)
crowned crane
Kori bustard
secretary bird
dik-dik
hare
hyrax
2 leopard
2 saddle billed stork
1 rhino
1 vearaux’s eagle owl
1 puff adder

Sweet Dreams?

(Serengeti, Tanzania: June 9, 2007)

Lately I feel like people have been divulging bits of information about themselves. It must be something about being in your thirties – suddenly you’re able to talk about some strange, quirky aspects of yourself or your past. Well, here I go, jumping on the bandwagon.

So many of you know this already – I have a rather strange sleep “disorder” let’s call it. Ever since I was 13, sometimes when I wake up, my dream continues even though I’m awake. It can take up to 15 minutes or longer for it to fade back to reality, even when I’m interacting with someone. Of course the dreams themselves at the point of waking are not pleasant, happy dreams with pretty fairies leading me through Candyland. They’re terrifying. The good news for anyone sharing a room or bed with me is that for the last 5-10 years I’ve mostly stopped screaming when they happen.

You can imagine the awkward discussion… “Yeah, so I kind of have this thing sometimes when I sleep. It probably won’t happen, but if I should scream out, don’t worry. It’s nothing - just ignore it.” Well, I can assure you that when it actually does happen with someone else in the room, no amount of prior warning prepares them. It’s just really freaky being awoken by someone screaming out in abject terror. Jon can now newly attest to this (hence the ‘mostly stopped screaming’).

This doesn’t happen when I’m home, and usually not in well lit rooms, either, but it’s been happening nearly every night of this trip unfortunately. Some nights it’s just waking to a person standing over the bed. Just lying there completely petrified with fear wondering how they got in and what they’re going to do. After 5 minutes or so they fade out. If the waking dream is being buried alive, I do try to physically get out. I’ve even tried to bite through a tent in the past – biting a zipper is no fun, I assure you. During that dream in Rwanda I just tore back a curtain. Not too bad! No harm done. Last night’s episode was a pretty cool dream though – looking back after the fact. The room we were in was balanced on a long round cylindrical object of some sort, under the middle of the room. So every time I moved in the bed, even an inch or two, the entire room tilted in that direction. This wasn’t the kind of tilting room that would just stop at some point either. It would fall over, come crashing down and crush me inside. So I would move a hand or a leg an inch, it would tilt wildly and I would wait for it to settle down, then move a little more, then quickly go back to sleep. Cool, huh?

I’ve met two people in my life who suffer from the same thing, neither knowing exactly why, but having a reasonable hypothesis. I think when I get back I’m going to look into some sleep disorder programs. I’m thinking after 21 years it could be time to get rid of this!

Cows, please

(Arusha, Tanzania: May 29, 2007)

Just wanted to talk a little bit about the Maasai people before I run out of time here.

Tanzania has many, many Maasai. They live in round huts called boma, which are typically not used year round. they are nomadic and move depending on the season. Mainly they herd cattle for a living - selling them at the market. They do a little farming, but I think I was told are not allowed to have plots that are very big. When the dry season comes twice a year (now) and the water dries up, they need to move to a place where their cattle will be able to feed and drink. During the wet season the cows can drink every day, but during the dry they rotate and only get to drink every 2 days. The Maasai can walk 30-40k per day with their herds!

Maasai men can have many wives - the husband has his own boma to live in, and each wife has her own as well, in a circle around his. The wives take turns alternating who stays with the husband, in 6 day rotations. Each woman may only have one husband though (of course!). Rich men may have 10-20 wives, and many many cows. It used to be the case that all marriages were arranged, up until even 20 years ago. Now people are free to choose their own partner - some even go to other tribes. While this isn't common, it is acceptable.

My guide, Thomas, is 37 and unmarried. I asked why he had not married yet, and he said because he doesn't have enough cows to buy a wife!

The Kindness of Strangers

(Lake Natron, Tanzania: May 29, 2007)

The title of this entry was going to be "You win some..." with the obvious inference being you lose some. Although this experience was so difficult, it was definitely not a losing situation.

So I spent the last 4 days up at Lake Natron in northern Tanzania. Aside from hearing how beautiful it is, I was interested in doing a really challenging climb up Ol Doinyo Lengai, an active Volcano. Because of the incredible heat there, you start the climb around midnight, and it's 6000 vertical feet! For those of you unfamiliar, that a really, really steep climb. I wasn't even sure if I could do it - many people can't make it. You reach the rim just before sunrise, and once the sun comes up, head back down. The climb takes roughly 6 hours. So I set off with my Maasai guide, Thomas, a little after 11:30pm. Yet again, I immediately felt under prepared. Why had no one mentioned the ferocious mosquitoes? Sure, I am taking malarone, but the number one way of avoiding Malaria is not getting bitten. Why had no one mentioned the really strong winds? So off we go - straight up. I could tell there's a bit of a gentler slope at the bottom, and already I was drenched in sweat. After a couple of hours we reached the "halfway" point, which is nowhere near halfway, after which there's really no turning back. What had been a straight, steep trail was going to turn into pure lava runs, and in the darkness, with the moonlight feeble, turning back later would be near impossible. Only problem was I was freezing. The winds were incredibly fierce, and my light jacket and shirt were drenched. Poo. But, I was determined, so off we went. We were passed by 3 other small groups about an hour later. I was in no rush, and enjoying not really feeling stressed aerobically.

About 2 hours shy of the rim it became so steep that the ground was about a foot and a half from my face. OH DEAR. At this point the moon had set, everything was pitch black, and my feeble headlamp only served to illuminate the lava rock right in front of my nose. I felt almost relieved we couldn't' see anything, because I knew it would really scare me. I could tell we were climbing something for crazy people. So with one hour left we huddled to figure out if we should turn back or not - the problem was I was an icicle and I was worried. The exertion was extreme, but mostly muscular and not heating me consistently enough to keep warm. Out of his bag he pulled a thin wool blanket to offer me! I was in love. So we decided to push on even though he, too, was freezing.

By this time I had noticed the distinct odor of sulfur. Uh Oh. For those of you who don't know, I am extremely allergic. I have only ingested it or had topical reactions though, so I wasn't sure how breathing it in would affect me. the last hour was a literal scramble on all fours. I think I "stood up" twice the entire time. Even being someone who is not afraid of heights, I was very, very afraid. We got to the top at 6am and waited until 6:30 for the sunrise. Unfortunately huge billows of white sulfur were coming out of the entire crater, as it is still an active volcano. It was really noxious and I worried for a bit but then concentrated on not freezing. We could see Mt. Meru and Kilimanjaro in the distance - they were spectacular. Still frozen I wanted to start down as soon as possible. Looking over the edge at what we had just climbed was quite a moment. I can't even express how steep and scary it was going down - my knees still have not recovered (even the "good" one). I did feel a bit feverish and nauseous after an hour and a half or so, but I figured it was just no sleep and all of the anxiety of the climb, and ignored it until I couldn't any longer. I had reached the halfway point again, so there was actually a trail and the rest of the descent would be a piece of cake. Not so if you are dreadfully ill! Every step was an exercise in determination. Determination to get to the bottom, and determination to not throw up. Well, I lost out on that one. I got very ill - my poor guide sat there watching me not knowing what to do. But I felt a little better afterwards so I tried to walk some more. Nope. Not happening. I got sick 3 more times, and can't think of a time I have ever felt so badly in my life - not even college alcohol poisoning came close. I couldn't stand, I couldn't speak, and there was no position that could squash the pain. My abdomen at this point was feeling permanently spasmed. I had no idea how I would get down, or even then how I would survive the terribly bumpy 4x4 ride home for 40 minutes. My guide had NO idea what to do - he tried at one point to poke my stomach, it was all I could do to shake my head NO.

So he went to find the group of 3 people still descending and they were incredible. This one woman Natasha took one look at me and started barking orders at everyone - to find some sort of simple sugar to get in me, to find people to carry me down, to try to get someone to drive the truck up the mountain a little closer... it was unbelievable. Coleman started sprinting dwn the mountain to the waiting trucks below to get more help waving his poles like a madman. I was just trying not to pass out. I couldn't take a step even assisted, so these two skinny Maasai guides dragged me down this really steep slope in incredible heat while she doused my head with water and gave me tiny sips of water with orange squeezed in. After many breaks, and getting the truck a good deal closer, the got me into the back. I can't remember ever being so relieved. She sat with me the whole way back and I could actually speak by the time we got back to my camp. Natasha, Coleman and Rebecca were so kind and generous and went WAY above any help I could have expected. I get weepy thinking about it.

Turns out I got a really high fever from the sulfur, and that coupled with the difficult descent gave me heat stroke. It took all day to get rid of the fever, but I successfully ate toast and rice before the end of the day, so I was back on my feet.

I feel fine today except for an upset stomach, and am just so very grateful - I'm taking my 3 new friends out for drinks tonight in Arusha! Jon gets in tonight and we head out on 10 days of safari tomorrow, so I will be offline for a while.

Hey, lady

(Zanzibar, Tanzania: May 25, 2007)

Zanzibar is a beautiful island, but MAN is it hot and humid here - and this is the "winter"! Think NYC subway on a 98 degree day. Instant sweat. So I spent the first 3 days in Stonetown - which is a bit of a mixed bag. The old buildings are gorgeous, completely run-down. Covered in mold. I needed a mainline of allergy medication! The stench of mold in my room was so overwhelming that there was never a time I grew accustomed to it. If I pretended really hard, I could convince myself at times it was just pungent mint. Even my clothing smelled by the end, although I couldn't tell until I got to the east coast of the island where it doesn't smell. The was a wonderful market in Stonetown, which I didn't get up the nerve to actually buy anything at (it's *all* locals, and really chaotic), but I think if I had gone there another day I could have mustered the energy to buy an orange. I was on the verge!

A note about Stonetown: Here the people are so overly friendly
that it's as if they are trying to sell you something. Oh, wait - they
are. I adapt quickly though to my surroundings and realized if I said
no with a big smile and a sweep of my arm, they generally left without
asking twice. Here are the top 5 things I was approached literally
hundreds of times to purchase:
1. Africa greatest hits CD
2. Spice packets
3. nuts
4. soccer jerseys
5. necklaces
Of course, then you get people who know you're going to say 'no' when
they approach you so they give you the guilt trip - "hey, lady, I
wasn't going to ask you for anything - what's wrong with you? I'm just
being nice... " So you say hello... they follow within a foot of you
for far too long (it makes me very uncomfortable, as I like my personal
space empty) and then eventually ask you if they can be your personal
tour guide. Or want to go to their restaurant. Shocking! They want something from me?? Here I thought they were just being nice.

So here I am now in this gorgeous resort on the east coast of Zanzibar. When I first walked in I thought, WHY was I not here the whole time? Or more to the point, why am I going anywhere else? I can just sit on a pristine white sand beach, sleep in my room with sheets that don't feel like sandpaper, which doesn't smell of anything bad, and just relax. Well, it's two days later and I'm leaving tonight, and I'm glad to be - because I am already bored. I just needed a nice rest.

Speaking of mustering the nerve to buy something in the market reminds me of two funny experiences here. Firstly, I had a Balinese massage. It said something about deep work, and I was all in. I knew from the minute I saw the woman that she was going to destroy me. I could tell by the look in her eye. Sure enough! Each of the joints of her thumbs most *definitely* have Popeye muscles coming out of them. I wasn't able to actually look and verify this, but I am certain of it. I kept thinking, okay, she knows what she's doing, so even though it feels incredibly painful it must be fine. Then that changed to if it hurts like this one more time I'll say something! Needless to say, I said nothing. Why is that?? Each time I gave myself an extension and held out one minute longer just in case... just in case what? It stopped hurting? She moved to some other painful area? I think I must be like a guy in that way - it's like asking for directions I guess.

I also took group yoga lessons while I was here since I couldn't afford the one on one. Well, I was a group of one. Apparently 35 German seniors are not interested in yoga.So 3 days in a row I went, even getting up for the 7:30am class this morning since I'm leaving before the evening class! That in itself would normally be unheard of, but I have been going to sleep by 10 every night here, 7:15 one night. So it wasn't such a big deal. I don't know about regular yoga classes, since I only do Bikram, but in our class, if the instructor actually comes around to you, it's to do a minor tweak, turn your hand a millimeter this way, straighten that leg more... this guy was UNREAL. He would come over (since it was just the two of us) and "help" me with the poses. By help I mean wrench my body into contorted positions which I could never come close to doing on my own. I'm talking full-on putting his thigh on one part of me and leaning his entire body weight into the other side! Knee in my back, pulling my arms in opposite directions. Stepping on my thigh to better grip my leg so he could stretch my hamstring which didn't want to go anywhere. At one point with a spine twist I though he might actually rip my arm off. But again - did I say anything? Like HEY BUDDY THAT HURTS!!! Nope. Sure didn't. I think I almost hit him at one point though - you know, reflex action.

What is the matter with me???? (feel free to answer that if you like, suggestions welcome)