Weekend Roundup

Interesting articles and other specimens abound online this week; here's a taste of what caught my eye.
There's something for everyone here!

1. Trial of former Guatemalan president for genocide >> For the first time in history, a former head of state has been put on trial - and then convicted - of genocide by his own country's court system.  This op-ed in The Globalist was written by Laura Myers of Limitless Horizons Ixil. Laura was our guide and an ambassador from the Ixil community when I traveled to Guatemala with Belmont University in March 2012. Having lived for over a year and a half with the Ixil people in the remote highlands of central Guatemala, Laura's knowledge, experience, and empathy inform her unique perspective on this remarkable event in local, national, and world history.

photo credit: Eric Johansson

2.
Swedish Photoshop expert creates mind-bending images

3.
French-Namibian girl grows up napping with cheetahs, riding ostriches - incredible photos!

4. Finland's contribution to online shopping: Buy anything you see online! - Cool Helsinki-based company Kiosked makes advertising less annoying and more enjoyable for shoppers.  Read about it in the Huffington Post.


5. "Struggle is progress" - A young mother bares her heart as she chronicles the joys and challenges of raising her two small children.  The genuine emotion and thoughts she shares are a beautiful part of the human experience.

6. "The unbearable beauty of Finnish grammar".  Believe it or not, after living here for 8 months, I've actually started speaking Finnish - real conversations!  Even arguments.  I had to aggressively defend American cuisine the other day when some guy tried to blanket-statement American food is bad ... because he ate bad Mexican-style food from an "American" restaurant in Helsinki (where Finns manager and cook).  The parent company might actually have ties to America.  And I had all the words to set him straight in Finnish!

For all the warnings that you get about this being the most difficult language in the world, it's really not that bad.   I have found Russian most challenging so far.  

7. '13 Bankers', Financialization, and the Economy.  This was posted about 3 years ago, but the message is still incredibly relevant!  Let this be a foreshadowing of one of my newest and most exciting projects.  If you find this topic interesting, stay tuned!

photo: Cata Portin

8.  Philosophy of life: Insight & Inspiration with one of Finland's most loved philosophers. He also happens to be a researcher and lecturer at my university.  I had lunch with Esa one day; he's a brilliant and lovely man.  He's also my neighbor, and by some funny coincidence, I now live in the apartment he used to own - where he raised his kids.  Here's a paper on elevated reflection that serves as a great introduction to his work and passion!
If you've ever been to Finland, you understand how brilliantly Esa stands out!

9. What the World Eats in a Week. This is a super neat photograph collection of families around the world, surrounded by everything they eat in a typical week.  Highlights: I was astounded by the volume of what the German family drinks compared to all others.  I was also horrified by the minuscule 1/12th of the British table that contained unprocessed, fresh edibles.  Mexico appears to adore Coca-Cola; Guatemalans have insanely red tomatoes; bananas / plantains must be in every Ecuadorian dish.  Based on this table analysis, I should probably move to Turkey or Italy.  

Bhutan - photo: Peter Menzel

Luptin, and the Sherpa relationship with food

"Shei, shei, shei!" It's the national cry of the Sherpani: "Eat, eat, eat!!"

Sapana just returned from her farewell breakfast with Luptin, the bearded monk who hosted us at saano gumba during the festival.  She walks into our room and empties her pockets, removing handfuls of chapati - flat, round, thick, and filling Tibetan bread.
"I just couldn't eat it all!" she cries, "but I didn't want to waste it."  She packs the chapati into a plastic bag for an afternoon snack and turns to show me the immense feast Luptin prepared her for breakfast: Chapati filled with veggie omelette, served quesadilla style with a yak cheese and red chili sauce, a hard boiled egg, a huge bowl of boiled carrots and bok choi and a glass mug of bottomless black apple tea. It looked genuinely delicious, and once again my heart was melted by the incredible generosity of a people who have nothing, yet give continuously of their very best. Cheese and eggs are such a luxury here!  Even vegetables demand a special occasion in order to make an appearance.

During the week we slept at saano gumba, Luptin brought us a thermos of hot water every night before bed.  If we seemed awake he insisted we follow him up to his small room above the monastery to sit on the floor together and share mugs of instant vita-drink that tasted like milky oatmeal and a tin of butter cookies.  After a half hour spent looking through the Chinese photo book of his Tibetan homeland and the various postcards and photos of Natur Rimpoche and other Buddhist leaders and incarnations, he'd send us back to our rooms laden with fresh tea bags and a box of unopened chocolate covered wafer cookies.

Though 60-year-old Luptin speaks no more than 20 words of English, we communicate effectively through smiles and gestures.  I've come to learn that silence is not awkward for Nepalis, especially during meal time, as they believe talking while eating is not good for digestion.  I enjoy the peaceful quiet of tea times with Luptin and the awareness that it brings out in me as my tongue stops and my other senses become more acute. But I also enjoy the fun challenge of communicating with him.  We learn that he is a devoted servant to Zatur Rimpoche (brother of Natur Rimpoche, who is currently residing at saano gumba) because Luptin's teacher - the one who raised him in the monastery - was the former Zatur Rimpoche. After Zatur's death, it was Luptin's responsibility to find the reincarnation of Zatur Rimpoche, and then raise the boy.  After the current Zatur Rimpoche was recognized as a reincarnation of a high lama, his two brothers were also recognized as incarnations: Datur Rimpoche and Natur Rimpoche.  We're told that this is very rare for so many siblings to be recognized as incarnations; this is perhaps the only family with three boys in such high positions.

Luptin conveys that Natur Rimpoche has been traveling in Russia, Europe, and America. He cannot accompany, however, because he doesn't have a passport.  Putting together the pieces of his life puzzle, we surmise that Luptin is a Tibetan refugee and without documents; a citizen of no land. I look to his laughing eyes, dancing as always, and I wonder what pain, what stories lie in his past. I understand how the Buddhist teachings of non-attachment and ideal of freeing oneself from desire help the Tibetan people cope with their political and physically impoverished circumstances.  Of the many peoples I've encountered throughout my travels, the Tibetans and Sherpa are among the poorest in material possessions yet among the richest in spirit.  I leave Luptin's room with my belly full, my mind joyful, my heart humbled, and my spirit renewed.  I snuggle into my sleeping bag and smile myself to sleep; I marvel at how sometimes the most meaningful communication takes place in spite of a language barrier.  Through the sharing of his food, Luptin reaches out, ministers to us and shares much more.

For Buddhists, "to prepare food for others is equal to preparing food for a shrine. If you feed others, you honor them."* To feed is to nurture; to satisfy another's hunger is to show compassion; to promote compassion is to build karma; to acquire good karma is to ensure rebirth into a higher realm of samsara and brings one nearer to enlightenment. During Dumzi, I told an old trekking guide that I was interested in the overlap of Sherpa culture and Buddhist culture. "They are one and the same," Dorje told me, drawing his two index fingers together as if to illustrate their synonymie. No wonder Sherpa people insist on feeding you till you can't quite possibly handle another bite. Though filling up on the carb-centric Sherpa diet might not honor your digestive system, it does honor your soul.

Following my three day fast due to food poisoning (or rather, water poisoning resulting from an improperly washed cup), Sapana and I were both lacking in appetite and asked for very small lunch portions as Pasang ladled dal into our bowls.  Though we lifted our hands palms up as if to cover our bowls - the polite way to refuse food or drink - and serenaded him with a chorus of "tuche, tuche, tuche" - no thankyou! - he stopped just briefly and then poured in a little more. We gave him a look of joking disdain, as if to say, "Come on, we don't want to waste it!"
He snickered, "It's the rule, we have to give twice."  Sherpa protocol demands two scoops of food be put on a plate (I demand two small scoops) and for alcohol or ceremonial drink, the one pouring the drink will not leave until the recipient of the cup first chugs at least half of the full cup, takes a big gulp after is it refilled, and again one more after it is filled a third time.  All the while, the Sherpani with the pitcher hovers with one palm under the mug, tipping it steeply to ensure the drinker drinks.  I've gently but steadfastly refused all alcohol except one cup of chhang (Sherpa millet wine, which I forced myself to drink for the full cultural experience) so as to avoid alcohol poisoning, or even worse, drowning at the hands of an eager and generous Sherpani with a pitcher.


* An excerpt from "I Taste Fire, Earth, Rain: Elements of a Life with a Sherpa" by Caryl Sherpa.

Dumzi Festival - Part II

On the stove a dish called dildo bubbles in a wok blackened from what appears to be years of use over an open fire. I saw a menu nailed to a wooden plank in the kitchen yesterday, a hand-written grid neatly printed on a blank sheet of paper, and couldn't help but laugh when I read that "Dildo with Mixed Curry" was on for lunch today. What in the world could that be?  The rest of the dishes on the menu - besides "Macroni with Veg/Cheese Tomato" - are traditional Sherpa, Nepali, or Tibetan dishes, and I haven't come across anything called dildo yet.

It was Pasang Genzi, assistant to the festival sponsor, who pointed to the corn meal and hot water bubbling in the wok and told me, "See, they're making dildo. Very good, you should try it." I watched as first the corn meal was cooked, then tsampa (barley) and millet, all in the same fashion. Then all three were dumped into a huge twenty-gallon pot to become a mixture so thick three cooks had to heave the pot off the fire and onto the floor, where they propped it against a wooden log which they used as leverage to stir the dildo with huge wooden sticks.

Lunch time approaches and I'm chased up to the dining hall to take the meal in a long room with wooden benches and long narrow tables lining either side. The thick brown paste that they call dildo is plopped into a copper dish and served with a bowl of chicken potato curry on the side. No utensils included. That's pretty typical for Nepal - everyone eats with their right hand only.  But usually the other volunteers and I are given utensils automatically, and I'd even say most of the monks use utensils most of the time.  But apparently this dish is hands-only, so I have to seek out a spoon for myself.  When I return and start sipping some of the curry soup off my spoon, I look up to see everyone staring at me and laughing - not insultingly, just amused.  I seem to constantly be a great source of amusement for pretty much everyone here.  The monks demonstratively roll their dildo paste into marble-sized balls and then dip them into the curry before popping them in their mouths.  Colin jokingly threatens to throw one at me.  It goes against every lesson in table etiquette my mother ever taught me. What happened to "No playing with your food?" Sherpa kids don't learn that lesson.

Even though I know the dildo dish contains barley and therefore gluten, I'm curious enough to taste it that I risk a stomach ache.  One bite is enough though; I find it bland and too rich all at the same time, and after three years of carefully avoiding gluten, the taste of grain is foreign in my mouth. I opt to stick to my bowl of curry soup instead, which is truthfully wonderful. I think the festival cooks are a bit less fond of chili and masala (spices), so for once I can actually taste my food.

I wander a bit after lunch, touring the grounds to check progress in our monastery-turned-thorma-making-factory.  But eventually I find myself back in the kitchen, eager for a warm place to sit and read and subconsciously hoping for a hot cup of milk tea. I'm pleasantly surprised to find a huge pot of boiled potatoes on the floor and a group of happy Sherpas sitting around it in a sort of peeling party. Laughter bounces off the walls, the fire pops, and the smell of twisted rice-flour kapsi cookies boiling in soybean oil fills my nostrils as I'm welcomed into the room.
"Can I help?" I ask with a smile, pointing to the pot of potatoes.
"Sure, sit down," Purbu replies.  I'd crouched next to him in the yard of the other monastery a few weeks ago during the Nyune festival, slowly pressing a huge pile of barley-butter-water paste into hundreds of teardrop-shaped thorma the size of my fist. He and the others surrounding the tarp - all men between the ages of 16 and 40 and all trekking guides - laughed and joked as I very slowly and painfully produced my first thorma. No matter how long I massaged the paste, gently shaping and smoothing the surface, it would crumble the moment I pulled one hand away.
"No, like this," said Purbu, as he forcefully smashed a handful of crumbs into a very dense, compact ball.  He kneaded the dough for a good two minutes, then handed me a perfect sphere.  Having three fourths of the work done for me, I quickly and easily shaped the ball into a beautiful teardrop, pinching the top with thumb and forefinger to emphasize the cone shape.  I was really proud of myself, and so was everyone else. Purba and I continued in this manner - he doing the heavy lifting, me taking the credit for a perfectly compacted thorma - for at least two more hours, until the tarp was empty and we were surrounded by hundreds of teardrops on baking sheets. Remembering our teamwork and his kindness, I'm touched that Purba offers me a potato and a seat next to him.

With five people peeling, the twenty gallon pot of potatoes empties quickly. I reach in to pull another out while maintaining eye contact during my conversation Purba and am startled to find, when I finally look down, that I'm holding an egg. "Ewww! Uh oh! It's an egg!" I cry. Everyone laughs. I look down into the pot. I count four other eggs camouflaged among the potatoes. For some reason I'm startled and confused; I don't understand why you would ever boil eggs and potatoes together. In fact, I'm slightly concerned that the chicken poop on the eggshell contaminates the potatoes. But I peel the egg anyways and move on to the next potato.

Name-Giving & Nepali Culinary Favorites

Several of my little monks have received new names!
After the Nyune festival last week, celebrating Buddha's birthday, one of the Rinpoches gave some of the little guys new Buddhist names in a sort of rite of passage. Two days prior, the ones to receive new names had their heads shaved - all except for a tiny tuft of silky black hair at the very crown of their heads.  My first introduction to the naming ceremony was the reply when I returned home from Nyune and asked about the new hair styles.

The little guys are so proud of their new names and adorable seven-year-old Pemba insists that I call him Ngawang Ludup.

Speaking of names, I've received a few new ones myself. The first Nepali I was given, in Kathmandu, was Sita.  But when I got to the monastery Pasang told me, "No, no, not Sita - Sila. Sila is beautiful lotus flower."  Sita, a popular Nepali girl's name, is the name of a Hindu goddess. I can see why the Buddhists wanted to rename me.  So I've been responding to every variation of Sira-Sita-Sila until yesterday, when Cook - who is the biggest joker of them all and constantly singing as he meanders about the kitchen refilling mugs of milk tea - greeted me as "Bipana."
"Ho!...Bipana!!"
"What? Bipana? Me?" I pointed to myself.
"Yeah- Sapana, Bipana" he grinned, pointing to the other volunteer, Sapana, and then to me. Apparently the song he's always singing about Sapana (which means 'dream' in Nepali) has a line about "sapana, bipana," bipana meaning "awake."  So that's that; add another name to the list!  It's kind of cute, though, how he takes care of us and gives us little nicknames, so I don't really mind.

Cook is really a good guy. The first week I was here, I ran out of balance on my pre-paid cell phone. I ran next door to the house that has a little store, but it was padlocked - the owners were out.  He approached me as I was walking back, asking what I needed.
"Recharge card," I said, pointing to my phone, "Ncell recharge."
"Oh, store closed now, maybe buy Phakding later."
Ok, I guess I'll be making a trip down to the little village of Phakding tomorrow, I thought to myself, secretly dreading the 40-minute walk back up the giant mountain I'd come to find myself living on.

About two hours later Cook comes into the school house while I'm teaching English. I thought he was just curious; between meals he doesn't have all that much to do and if there's no one lounging in the kitchen it could be quite boring.  But after a few minutes he came up and handed me a recharge card worth 500 Rs. (rupees) - about $6.  He must have gone down to Phakding for supplies and remembered me; it was such a sweet gesture.

And ever since day one, when I explained to him that I can eat everything made of rice, but nothing with anta - wheat flour - he's made sure to always have a meal for me. Usually if everyone's having noodles for breakfast he'll make me fried rice; if they're having tsampa (barley flour that you pour tea over in your own bowl and mix up into a thick paste), then I'll get beaten rice cereal - kind of like rice crispies but flat and really hard and tastes like cardboard. But if you add enough sweet milk tea it's alright.  He makes light, puffy, steamed ti-mo-mos out of rice flour, and even started making his thick, delicious, melt-in-your-mouth homemade noodles out of rice flour.  Chapati, a flat Nepali bread that is thicker than the Indian naan, is usually made of wheat flour, but yesterday I walked into the kitchen and they were making them of rice flour.  We had chapati filled with fried potatoes for dinner - out first taste of potato since they're just now coming into season - and it was absolutely delicious!

My heart was melted yesterday when I walked into the kitchen in the morning after being sick all day the day before. Cook was nowhere to be found, but Pemba (12) and Kagi (14) were boiling a huge pot of water.  Pemba greeted me and then poured some batter into a giant frying pan. He flashed me a huge grin, "Your breakfast," he pointed to the pan, obviously proud to be the big guy in charge, taking care of everyone.
"Pancakes! Yay!"  My favorite breakfast here are the rice flour pancakes that Cook started making for me on random special days.  Kagi was unwrapping about 50 packages of Wai-Wai Noodles (like instant ramen noodles), so I knew that Cook had left the boys specific and pretty easy instructions for breakfast while he was gone for the morning.  I was so impressed and thankful that he thought of me and even had the boys make my favorite breakfast!  Despite the fact that I haven't had a shower in a week and sleep with giant insects every night, I feel spoiled here.  Compared to everyone I know in the US, these boys have practically nothing and yet they not only share everything they have, but they reserve the best for their guests and always present it with the biggest smile.

2011: Where We've Been

After work one Friday, a few weeks ago, I literally collapsed.  I sat down on my living room couch around 6pm - for what seemed like the first time in ages - and within minutes had fallen asleep. At 9am the next day I finally awoke, figured out where I was, and was astonished to realize how tired I had become.

I started to piece two and two together when thinking about the past year in review, as I always tend to do when December 1st comes around.  I've covered so many thousands of miles this year, and I'm so thankful for all for your notes of encouragement and support through all the journeys.  Let's see where we've been!

1. Belgium...I was here with my beloved Belgian host family the entire, wonderful month of January. What an incredible time to rekindle old friendships and reminisce on the life-changing experiences I shared with them in 2006-2007.
2. Spain...Meeting up with old friends from my exchange year in Belgium was one of the highlights of my travels in western Europe this year.  Victoria, from Britain, was studying abroad in Zaragoza, Spain this spring and invited me to visit!

Recipe for "Syrniki" - Russian Cheesecakes

I translated (and elaborated a little on) this recipe for a friend, and decided to share it on the blog as well. This is for the Syrniki we made with Sergei last week.  You can view the photo gallery of these delicious little cheesecakes and our cooking session in the original post.

Here's the original recipe, and below, my translation.

Cooking Class With Sergei

My studies in Russia and Ukraine have been organized through SRAS - the School of Russian and Asian Studies.  I've been overall satisfied with the assistance provided by the organization.  I heavily corresponded with Renee, the director, for two years as I tried to set this up.  It seemed like no matter what time I emailed her, I always got a response back within 1-2 hours.  SRAS helped me obtain the priglashenye (invitation) to study in Russia that was needed for my visa; they set up my housing, enrolled me in the school, met me at the airport, and provided lots of information about the places I would go.  They also provided the comfort of knowing that I could call a local resident an any time if I needed help.  But other than that they have been pretty hands off, and that's the way I like exchange programs in general.

One thing that I've really enjoyed, however, is participating in some of the optional tours that SRAS offers.  Do you remember Sergei's guided walking tour of downtown St. Pete?  It was absolutely a wonderful time. The same multi-talented Sergei (a professor and culture enthusiast) took us to a play by Gogol at the Aleksandrinskiy Theatre, on a tour of The Russian Museum, and invited us over to make and eat syrniki -- the highlight of today's blog post.

Odessa: Ultimate Eastern European Vacation Destination

I've been in Odessa for less than 48 hours, and already I've explored downtown on foot, eaten at some delicious local restaurants, refreshed my wardrobe with attire appropriate for the 95F (35C) weather, attended a spectacular performance of Madame Butterfly at the world-famous Odessa Opera House, spent a morning sunning on the beach (during which I fell asleep in the sun and will continue to pay for that nap as my sunburn becomes more and more painful), swam in the Black Sea, and made Ukrainian friends at the Irish pub next door to my apartment.

Counting My Blessings

I was looking around online tonight, hoping that by some miracle all the credible sources would tell me that Fruit Loops are gluten free.  You see, they've come up in conversation several times over the past week, and my walk through the cereal aisle tonight seems to have triggered a craving for the brightly-colored, entirely unnatural, sugary rings.  


Unfortunately for me, I will never eat a real Fruit Loop again.  There may be some knock-off gluten-free, lactose-free, casein-free, egg-free, lame excuse for a Fruit Loop that tastes like cardboard, but I'm not into allergy-free counterfeits.  I lived too long as a glutenarian (a word I made up for people who eat gluten) and the memory of the "real thing" is still too fresh. If I can't have the original, I'd rather not eat it at all.  

My Mother's Biggest Regret

I found out a few weeks ago that my mother's biggest regret in raising me is having let me leave home without having learned to cook. If you ask me, it's a pretty minor issue. I mean...I'm a productive member of society, I'm not addicted to drugs, I'm getting a good education, I'm seeing the world. Even if I don't have a recipe database in my head, at least I know what good, fresh food tastes like – thanks to my mom.

But, all the same, she's taken it upon herself to further my culinary education via “distance learning” – a term many universities are using for their online courses. Every few days my inbox fills up with messages titled,

“Our dinner tonight,”
“Our dinner tomorrow night,”
“Make this as your Sunday dinner,”
“A great gluten free recipe!” ...etc.

Raw Foodism

It sounds like some sort of cult, doesn't it?  I'm sure you've heard of the new(ish) fad: the Raw Food Diet.  It was developed based on the theory that "a diet consisting mainly of uncooked, unprocessed plant foods leads to a leaner body, clearer skin, and higher energy." A friend was telling me the other day about how it's really helped her get her body more in balance. 

I was grabbing my daily salad in the caf today when I realized that most of what I eat qualifies on the Raw Food Diet.  So then I thought, Why not go all the way? It's the beginning of the month, so I'll do a 30-day raw food diet.

AMPed

Something is seriously wrong with me.
Monday night I got only 3.5 hours sleep, as I had two big deadlines on Tuesday: a big study abroad grant application, and a 10 page paper on Machiavelli to write & then give a 25 minute presentation on (which I found out about only last Thursday).

I met the deadline for the grant, and the presentation went really well, but then I had to face 3 hours of Marketing/Business law from 2-5 pm.  On a normal day it's hard to stay awake in Business Law, It's after lunch in a dark, warm room....one guy in the front row routinely naps through the better part of each class.  So running on half my normal sleep, I knew I needed an extra boost.  

Desperate for energy, I bought a 20 oz. sugar free AMP drink.  
Halfway into Bus. Law my leg started twitching and I was taking notes faster than ever and it was suddenly the most interesting subject ever.  I must have asked 30 or more questions, and leaving the class I was practically bouncing off the wall and could barely contain myself.  I got back to my room and got ready to go the gym, but decided to use some of that extra energy to check off some things on the to-do list first.  I was so hyper that my hand were visibly shaking. Ended up getting into a five-hour conversation, which somehow felt more like two hours, during which I was still super jittery and just all over the place.

Got back to my room and chatted for another hour....went to bed at 1:30am and didn't sleep AT ALL. Got out of bed about five times but couldn't focus enough to read or work on any one project.  It's now 7:30 am and I'm still "high" from an energy drink I had over 15 hours ago.
WHAT is in this stuff?? 

The Chicken Story - 22 June 2008

**This is a never-before-published journal entry from June 2008.


Hi Mom, 
The Liu family are very very hospitable and generous people; they remind me of Pascal and Anna- how excited they were to show us around Belgium.   I have already made some unforgettable experiences with Christine and her parents.  It's unlike me, but I am having short moments of homesickness- like yesterday when we walked up to Christine's cousins' house.  A lovely girl my age and her older brother were at a makeshift kitchen counter just outside the front door of the shack.  As she turned around to greet us I saw she was holding the the bound feet of a chicken.  Her brother briefly turned his head to acknowledge us; as he turned back he twisted around the chicken's head and snapped it's neck.  I instinctively threw my hands up in front of my face and almost screamed-- instead just sucking in tons of air.  They thought my reaction was hilarious.
When I nervously, incredulously, asked Christine what they were doing, her cousin instead answered innocently, "We're...killing....chicken..........to eat.  We eat chicken for dinner..........tonight."  

Despite not having eaten much that day, and having walked-- a lot-- my appetite grew smaller and smaller as I remember Christine's dad telling me we were going to have dinner at his brothers' house.  Throughout the course of our hour-long visit I tried to ignore the innumerable breaches of standard kitchen health code.  While playing with Christine's eldest cousin's baby I tried to invent some kind of genuine reason that would excuse me from the evening meal.  

Christine's adorable nephew "David" with Mrs. Liu

Heat stroke was the only thing that came to me, which seemed very plausible as it was 110 degrees in the shade (even at 5:30pm) and humidity hovering at about 85%.  The Liu family are amomg the most kind and genuine people I have met- so ready to share everything they have, though it be so little- and I really did not want to offend them, but after witnessing their food preparation techniques, I sincerely could not picture myself walking away from that meal without the avian bird flu- or at least a serious case of the chicken pox.
So you can imagine that it was MUCH to my relief when Christine's dad came in and declared the men (him and his 3 brothers) had reached a consensus: There was not enough food in the house for all 17 adults, so they had made reservations for half of us down at a local restaurant.
Our mode of transportation to the restaurant and my experience there is a whole other story.


I miss you, and your delicious, normal food. :)

As you can see by the arrows painted on the pavement, the two brothers driving us both drove the wrong direction on the freeway to get to the restaurant.  A short cut, no doubt.

Walking up to the restaurant, we passed a man cracking mussels on the ground, then depositing them into a plastic tub and some very used Styrofoam coolers.  My first clue that outside the major cities health codes just aren't enforced the same. 

The restaurant consisted of a main kitchen, patio, and public dining room, as well as several private dining huts with large round tables.  The entirety of the structure was built on stilts over a pond on which floated a variety of aquatic plants including lilies.  

Also featuring a floating chicken coop...

...a full-service aquarium...

...and snakes!

This is the puffer fish that I picked out for my dinner from the aquarium out front.  The guy caught him and puffed him up in front of me just to demonstrate his health, I guess.

Excerpts from short little updates to friends - 19 June 2008

**This is a never-before-published journal entry from June 2008.


"I CAN'T WAIT to get back home.  The one consistent lesson I've learned in every country I visit is that America is the best place on earth....Don't get me wrong, I love to travel.  But life is so much easier in America."


"I have the most awesome picture.  This morning Christine and I walked over to South China Normal University (I don't get the name) which is literally right next door to her appartment building.  All the sudden we walk by this building which has a huge red and gold banner over the entrance which reads, "A Warm Welcome to all the Principals from Tennessee, USA here for the International Youth Leadership Program."  Haha, who would have ever guessed?  I insisted on exploring all 6 floors of the building in hopes of stumbling upon some fellow Americans but with no luck.

 

Oh well, I had a good laugh."

"I actually didn't bring my laptop with me to China for security reasons, so I'm storing all my photos on memory cards.  Fortunately these have become very affordable and I'm able to buy a 2 GB memory card here for around 7 USD.  Pretty amazing.  It's been in the high 80's and 90's since I got here, and humidity is hovering around 90%.  So you can imagine that's a big change for someone coming from a mild, dry, 55 degree Australian winter.
Thanks for all your thoughts and prayers; they are truly a comfort in my times of uncomfortable and unassured situations."


"I wake up every morning in awe and anticipation of the day that lies ahead.  There is no way to convey in an email the extent to which my life has changed this month.  I'm going to have to write a book.  I already have actually; my travel journal. It's 8:30pm and we're driving back from a village about 40 km outside of Guangzhou, where I was stared at all day by Chinese rice and pig farmers who have never before seen a foreigner-- especially not one with reddish hair and freckles.  I was warned about curious Chinamen but was not prepared for the intensity of their questioning expressions.  In an attempt console me, Christine tells me that when Chinese people stare it's actually a compliment; that they consider a beautiful woman to be one that commands the attention of passersby when she walks down the street.  Hmmmm.....I get the feeling that it was more my awkward Hello's and various short Chinese phrases (surely spoken in the wrong tone) that got their attention. Haha.
On the up side, I seem to have mastered the chopsticks and receive compliments by all the waitresses wherever we go."

Dinner with the Liu brothers (Christine's dad & uncles) in a local sushi hut

Pig Farmer - Mayor of Small Town - Pig Seller - City Boy (her dad)

"I'm flying back July 1st.  Really can't wait.  I've never really had homesickness before in all my travels- but, as amazing as China can be, it's just too foreign.  There are just too many cultural norms here that really aren't normal.
For one, nobody seems to mind not being able to see the sky or buildings just a km away.  They don't seem to notice the fact that breathing is almost impossible.  I miss America and her clean air more than anything.
I'm sorry for complaining so much."

Arriving in Guangzhou - 18 June 2008

**This is a never-before-published journal entry from June 2008.

I apologize for the scattered updates that have been few and far between.  As I predicted, the internet isn't quite as accessible here as in the western world.  Not to mention I've been constantly on the go, so little time to find an internet cafe, although I have been journaling my many interesting experiences daily so I won't forget anything. 

The conference concluded last night and its termination was celebrated with a long night out in the city.  Most everyone caught their international flights this morning.  I realized last-minute that there are 2 airports in Shanghai, and that the one I was flying out of was NOT the one that everyone else was.  Luckily I was able to catch a cab and get there on time....only to have my flight delayed by 2 hours due to weather conditions. 

I arrived in Guangzhou around 9:30pm and met up with my friend.  We had dinner downtown with her dad, who speaks exactly one phrase in English, "I do not speak English."  This is the case with many in the older generation.  

In the short 3 hours that I've been here, I quickly realized the incredible difference between "touring" a country in a group of 300 mostly westerners, while staying in 4- and 5-star hotels, as opposed to being immersed, as a helpless individual, in a culture which I've come to see far exceeds my understanding.  As I sat through my first meal in a Chinese family my table manners were thoroughly scrutinized.  Although I was lovingly corrected with humour and understanding, I couldn't help but feel embarrassed about my less than perfect technique with chopsticks and lack of acknowledgement of seemingly elementary Chinese dining etiquette. 

I swallowed my pride and welcomed their advice, especially after they told me that they had a large family dinner planned for next week, during which I will be introduced to the family and no doubt evaluated by their standards for a well-mannered Chinese woman.  Let's hope I learn fast. 

I have no more time, but so much more to say.

I have taken over 1,600 photos to date on this trip- so be prepared for one big slideshow.

Take Care,

 

Shirah-- aka Yung Wu (a Chinese name given to me by a group of college students-- it means "the sun is high in the sky")

Last Day of the Summit - 17 June 2008

**This is a never-before-published journal entry from June 2008.


Hi Mom! :)
The Summit is over! I can't believe it.  We had our final meetings, speeches, and dinner tonight. It's about 3am and I just got back from my one and only night of clubbing during this trip. You know I'm not much of a party girl, and the extra sleep paid off.  Out of 9 groups, my group came in first place. When I get back I'll explain the goals and objectives of this simulation that is the major academic focus of the program.
I'm already looking at CYLC's International Scholar Laureate Program next summer.  There's one focusing on Diplomacy and International Relations that will take place in South Africa.
I spent this afternoon stocking up on Louis Vitton bags, Gucci shades and shoes, and lots of other goodies in what we call the "black market" hehe.
I'm jealous of everyone that's flying back home tomorrow.  But I'm also really excited to see Christine tomorrow.
I love you tons!
Will keep you updated.

One of my favorite photos of the trip...

Shanghai slums in the foreground, skyscrapers in the distance

Saying goodbye after a great Summit!

Farewell Banquet in a ritzy Shanghai floating restaurant

My friend Athena (from Greece) poses in front of Shanghai by night

5th Day in Beijing - 10 June 2008

**This is a never-before-published journal entry from June 2008.


Traveling in a big group like this (350 students) is a lot different
from traveling alone because all the logistical aspects of the trip
are taken care of & very well organized.  I've learned the symbol for
"women's bathroom" and a few phrases in Mandarin.  Yesterday we
climbed a portion of the great wall which is, in places, stairs that
are almost perfectly vertical.  I got a plaque at the top with my name
and the date I climbed.  

Note the 2008 Beijing Olympics logo & motto: "One World, One Dream"

steep steps

I did it! Look at my official plaque...engraved with my name and everything!

view from the top (...of just one little section)

standing in the shadow of a 2,200 year old edifice

After a delicious traditional Peking Duck
dinner, we went on a short jaunt to the evening food street market.

get your insects fried or fresh....

...in a stack or on a stick

these girls seem to be enjoying their raw squid on a stick

Before we even saw anything the smell was repulsive.  One of my
Icelandic friends, Bjarni, ate a stick full of silk worms which he
said were all right at first but got grosser as he went along.  There
was whole squid, scorpions, cockroaches, lizards, along with more
domestic meats such as venison and ostrich.  There is a young
aboriginal man (native Australian) who didn't seem to have too big of
a problem w/ the stuff-- however another Indian student, who is Hindu
and vegetarian, could barely stay long enough to take a few pictures.
In fact, he was the one who pointed out that the picture of an ostrich
that one vendor was using to advertise his kiosk was actually a World
Wildlife Foundation Poster!!

We had an early wake-up call at 5:30am this morning-- it's now 7am and
we're well on our way to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs.  This is a
very special trip; not just anybody can get in.  But because of the
Program's great reputation and carefully tended relationships with
higher-ups in the Chinese govt., (this concept is called GUANXI in
Mandarin) we have access to many sites that are off limits to
tourists.  We will meet with Mr. Liu Jieyi this morning, Assistant to
the Minister of Foreign Affairs, and Head of the North American
Department.

Mr. Liu Jeiyi

This afternoon we will have some free time, and then a Scholar-Led
Open Debate Forum on subjects which we have proposed.  A few students
will host and mediate each of four debates.  The topics range from
Health Care to Global Economy to Human Rights.  After dinner I'll be
joining an optional tour during which we'll visit a local university
to speak English with Chinese students.  Apparently such forums are
popular here, and I've heard that the students will line up just for a
chance to practice their English with us.

We're heading into the Ministry now, so I gotta run!