Contently Wandering

around the farm this fall

2011-11-25T16:29:00.008-06:00

Thanks to a volunteer for the pictures.

an overview...

2011-10-17T16:59:00.002-05:00

An overview of my job though snip-its of a fundraiser letter I sent out:

I work for a community development ministry called East Central Ministries; we’re located in a rough neighborhood here in Abq, working at developing leaders, meeting needs, and ultimately changing the neighborhood. I work with great people, and live in an intentional Christian community of about 14 families right in the neighborhood.

My job in the last couple weeks has changed completely. My co-worker, Matt, took a job at his alma mater in Berea, KY (of all places…J) and I’m taking his job as the Growing Awareness Urban Farm Manager. The work that I do is very diverse and quite crazy, but a ton of fun. In the spring we sell veggie seedling starts—about 15,000 of them, to nurseries in town, people that drop by, and to church youth groups as fundraisers for them: promoting gardening and community development instead of candy bars! I have been learning bee keeping this spring from Matt, and now I’ll be managing 15 beehives (and likely twice that next summer). We are also a part of a federal grant that works to establish school gardens and train teachers how to integrate the garden into their curriculum.

A large part of my job is working with volunteers: anyone from church groups on a Saturday, to neighborhood folk fulfilling community service hours through the state. The ministry focuses on training indigenous and local leadership from people in the community, and in my area especially, we make a point to utilize as many volunteers as we can, and create micro-businesses: both to create jobs for our neighbors and to provide a financial income for the ministry. I’m always amazed at the diverse crowd that we are able to reach and bring together—from the conservative churches in town to the hippies of the local produce movement. For example, Tuesday I led a tour of 20 extension agents from all over the country; Monday I worked with a volunteer—a small white haired lady whose last name is Vanderwall; and Wednesday I worked with a kid who had gang tattoos and was completing 20 hours of community service. The diversity of people I work with and jobs I do are truly amazing. J

ECM is a very holistic ministry; the main goal is changing the neighborhood through long term relationships and community development work: living like Jesus—loving others—the outcasts and homeless as well as our co-workers and friends. I think it is pretty amazing I can work at a place like this and work in gardens at the same time.

fare thee well

2011-10-02T17:12:00.004-05:00

Life on the urban farm has been changing in leadership as well as in season. My co-worker, Matt, came into work late one morning about a month ago with a funny look on his face-- and I immediately knew something significant had happened; I wasn't sure whether to suspect that his pyro tendencies had gone awry or . . . that he was going to leave. Things fell into place very swiftly, and less than a week after he knew the job was open--he had it. Less than 3 weeks after that--he was on his way to Berea, Kentucky. Wife and son to catch up with him in a couple weeks. I agreed to take his job as the urban farm manager, and we sent him off with plenty of love and tears.

Matt has a very kind and gentle spirit; one where the very essence and peace of God was evident. He taught me to love bees, to wear ear plugs, and to see the very best in everyone I come into contact with. I loved learning from him; we had a blast. The loss of him and Meg from my day to day life is profound; much more so than the responsibility of my new job. However, I am very excited for Meg and him to be following their dreams; maybe our paths will meet up again, after all, they are hoping to start a small farm/community out in Kentucky.

Like most people, I've said my share of "hellos" and "goodbyes;" some are flippant, others heart-wrenching; most are bittersweet.

I've joined the fanatics

2011-09-03T17:39:00.004-05:00

I recently took a trip to the LA area to visit my sister's family who moved this summer from the Chicago area. We went to an Angels game (thanks Smits farms for the apparel!).

LA beaches do have more salt and surfers than the beaches by Chicagoland.

Both of my roommates came along. Shirley visited her nephew, and Megan spent her 2 week break away from the UNM School of Medicine exploring southern California.
Right when we got back, I purchased this car:

Any guesses on the make/model and reasons for such a big purchase (so obviously out of character?)

"Hey Rasta sista'! You are Bob Marley!"

2011-07-09T15:11:00.010-05:00

(whispered voices) "Look at that girl's hair... its got all kind of shells and stuff in it."

"How much of that is your real hair?"

"Can I ask you a personal question?... Why do you punish your hair?"

"What is that? I mean, how do you do that?"

"Those are the most beautiful dreadlocks I have ever seen!"

How long will I keep them in? beats me. I guess til' some sort of inspiration strikes. Or when I get lice. Or when I receive many more negative than positive comments.

Who will love me now? I wondered. Will anyone want to stroke my hair again? I didn't know the answer, so this act was like taking a vow of chastity. And I didn't care. I just wanted to stroke my hair myself... The dreads are so cool: no wonder two people in Saint Louis wanted my secret. Like snowflakes, each dreadlock is different, has its own configuration, its own breadth and feel. It's like having very safe multiple personalities. (anne lamott)

The night before I graduate from Dordt, May 2007, Henderson's bonfire- Andy, Jeremy, and Josh valiantly take the second-to-last shift of dreading...

May 2007, Road trip in Suburban to WA

August (?) 2008, Sioux Center, IA

September 2009, Canoeing with Jeremy near Mt. Vernon, WA

June 2010, Family Cabin time near Ortonville, MN

May 2011, visiting family in Chicago, IL

Dreadlocks make people wonder if you're trying to be rebellious. It's not as garbling and stapled as a tongue stud, say, or as snaky as tattoos. But dreadlocks make you look a little like Medusa, because they writhe and appear to have a life of their own, and that's scary...

Mostly, people see someone with dreadlocks, especially a white person with dreadlocks, and assume that the person's hair carries with it a position or a message--the message being, Maybe you don't have as many prejudices against me as you do against black people, but you should. Most people, if asked, might wonder if perhaps dreadlocks are somewhat unpatriotic--isn't it unpatriotic not to comb your hair? The tangles are so funky, and who knows, they may harbor bugs and disease. Perhaps to some people dreadlocks indicate confusion of thought and character: good children have shiny combed hair, while bad children, poor children, loser kids, have busy hair... (anne lamott)

never a dull moment

2011-05-14T16:11:00.004-05:00

Throughout my wanderings, I've developed some skills in chaos managing; my brain semi-successfully filters through the ramblings of my co-workers' ADD, attempts to organize what is possible, and enjoy the day-to-day uniqueness of tasks. Yesterday afternoon I went to our warehouse to load the kiln with ollas, and I found this sight:

Evidently a couple days earlier we received a donation of bread dough--likely frozen in large trash bags. The ladies in the co-op didn't know what to do with it or didn't want it (if I had discovered that earlier, I would have fixed the problem!!), and threw the trash bags in the trash can. The dough thawed, rose, and spewed out of the can, light and fluffy and ready for the oven. Rest assured, I listened to better judgment (Matt) and didn't attempt to bake any. It was quite fun to clean up.

Boxes and boxes of these noodles were donated. Anyone know anything about them or have any recipes for me?

Growing Awareness Urban Farm

2011-04-18T17:20:00.009-05:00

www.growingawarenessurbanfarm.com

I work largely with the guys in the compost sifting video on the website: the guy talking is Matt, the farm manager, and the one turning the sifter is John, the director and founder of the ministry. I take care of the plants and ollas, am a general gopher, and attempt keep the inevitable chaos to reasonable minimum. Our booth at the Home & Garden show this past weekend.

2011-01-30T22:05:00.002-06:00

I have officially moved to The Land of Enchantment.

2010-12-21T19:51:00.000-06:00

and back again

2010-11-02T14:21:00.000-05:00

With this summer and fall came a welcome stability.

During the last full calender year starting in August, I have spent no more than 3 weeks in any given place--and often much less. The record breaking 3 week stint was spent with Jena and Rey in Manama, Bahrain over Christmas. I barely broke that streak this summer in between a couple road trips, but currently it has been 8 weeks since I have been grounded in Sioux Center, Iowa after returning from Alberta from Andrew and Lynda's wedding.

It is a welcome change, and I am refreshed.

The farm, Seedtime and Harvest, embraced me in my weeks back, and in between road trips I harvested and ate all the fresh organic veggies I've been deprived of while on the road. The very tangible and fascinating reality of roots growing in dirt has guided my mind and feelings to find some sort of acceptable balance, after the inevitable fullness of returning to Sioux Center after much travel.

A few photos of my summer trips:

Camping at Lost Johnny National Forest Campground. near hungry house dam. Montana. Thanks Matthew for taking the picture.

Sharing a lovely childhood memory with Betsy. Anyone else love this place?? Free ice water anyone? (to those skeptics, just read the story of how it all started, you'll be touched-- I'm sure of it.)

The Russet House Farm. Ontario. A beautiful old farm house. off the grid, due to the visible panels on the roof. Thanks to Sylvia and Brain, I experienced my definition of a dream farm. We ate lots of veggies and flowers, spent many hours of the day in the kitchen conversing, and lived in a way that, for once, made sense to me as a Christian and lover of green things. Thanks Brian and Sylvia. and Justin.

Connecticut. Chicago. Ontario. Alberta. Everywhere in between. The road trips, combined with the creation of this: has helped the transition from ultra-transience to Iowa. I bought the scraps from a couple dress makers in Uganda. It was fun. Congrats again, Andrew and Lynda.

The frosts have again come and harvest is complete. The seasons continue, in nature and my life. Yes, I am again jobless. open for ideas for work and volunteering and road trips.

stateside

2010-07-04T17:28:00.009-05:00

I've been back in the states for one month; it has presented, as have the last 6 months, a paradox of emotions and a plethora of realizations.

The sheer volume of familiarity and understanding is more than welcome after the constant state of incomprehension and general confusion; however, I've noticed that after spending such significant quantities of time alone, adjusting back to friends and companionship is a process. Due to my blessed transience, I've had the freedom of spending time with two close friends in various stages of grief. The depravity of us humans, the power of evil, and the humanity of Jesus have become even more real to me as I've cried, questioned, and been present with them. The best way I've found to describe my current state is "very full" and "disconnected."

In addition to spending time with local and overseas friends while being back in the US, I've also been with my family: me, brother colin, sister erin niece elise, me, nephew william In the last month in the states, I have driven (after a forced abstinence for 6 months) solo to and from CT; I have worn shoes twice; went canoeing, and have eaten an ungodly amount of cheese.

I will continue to think a lot about "the trip." The friends I made... the fish i ate... the places I traversed... and the ever present children...I will be in and out this summer, hopefully seeing most of you. I would love to hear what you are learning and are up to and how you are changing. "Plans" for the fall include a couple trips to Canada and some weeks working at the farm. After that? Guess we'll see...
Pictures from my trip can be viewed at http://picasaweb.google.com/mrgnttm

bittersweet

2010-05-27T08:53:00.000-05:00

“How was your trip?” A question I will inevitably face over and over in the next few weeks. The question is an understandable one and largely unavoidable; most people who ask it realize the irony in requesting someone to sum up an intense 6 month journey across multiple countries and cultures in a sentence or two, but what else do you ask? When I’m the answerer, I often find myself simply dismissing the question with a “Great!” or “Challenging, I learned a lot!” and for most questioners, that’s enough; after all, we Westerners are quite concise and are unsure how far and deep we should inquire after something when it very likely might present an conversation involving things we know little about or one that is a little too honest or uncomfortable. We also are fearful of involving ourselves in a situation where we might not know the questions to ask or understand the other person completely. I have experienced the fears and awkwardness of the questioner as a guest many times in the last months. I understand.

How was my trip?

Diverse. Humbling. Exciting. Uncomfortable. Confusing. Shaping. Intriguing. Enjoyable. Refreshing. Holistic. Surreal.

I reconnected and learned the lives of close friends living in places unimaginable from NW Iowa. I met others in passing or in depth who challenged and sharpened my definitions and understandings of faith, Church, humility, forgiveness, patience, identity. I depended entirely on others, strangers and friends alike, for 6 months, a humbling and formative activity. I met many delightful people, ate delectable foods, and was blessed by countless people and cultures along the way. I had fun; I was terrified, excited, apprehensive... So yes, it was “a good trip.”

I am thoroughly enjoying the last week of my journey with a good friend back in Nairobi, but I am excited to spend the summer in the mid-west with friends, family, bonfires, weddings, and fellowship. And as everyone can identify with, conclusions of any kind leave one with a bittersweet feeling. “Worn-out” accurately illustrates my current mental state. It also more than describes the condition of my beloved khaki pants.

back to village life

2010-05-08T05:03:00.007-05:00

Northern Uganda: Gulu district, Lukodi village. I am living with a dear friend I made during my last stint in Uganda. These pictures represent the materially simple (but emotionally intense) day-to-day life in the village.

Lukodi village

Walking with a couple of the women from the community who work at ChildVoice making paper bead necklaces.
Laundry. Do your next load by hand: guaranteed appreciation of your washing machine! Most Africans lives in a thatch hut with no electricity and running water (as I have been).

One of Kristin's co-workers received a bag of termites yesterday as a gift. Although she wasn't too excited, Kristin and I were thrilled at unexpected snack!! (seriously, they are tasty!)

Of course we had to share with the kids. All the women at ChildVoice have at least one kid, which means there are 30+ children racing around the center!

Kristin has worked at ChildVoice for 2 years in the income generating program: organizing and supervising the paper bead necklace production and building relationships within the community. Childvoice is 3 year old organization and center that provides a holistic outreach to young mothers in the region who have been abducted or closely impacted by the LRA (Lord's Resistance Army).

Fall '05. Mukono, Uganda. USP.

2010-05-01T14:43:00.006-05:00

Strolling around campus nearly 5 years since I first arrived to Uganda Christian University was a strangely pleasant phenomenon. I found nearly everything to be larger and more developed: roads, buildings, vegetation, friends. The field space was turned into a football pitch; the old dining hall became a second library and a bigger and better DH was erected; canteens were transplanted; the wild hillside was transformed into luxurious housing complexes; roads have been widened; classroom buildings and staircases have appeared on various slopes; bushes and trees have grown noticeably larger or removed completely. Very few places hold such vivid and influential memories packed into a short few months, and it seemed a bit like I was stepping into the reality of a reoccurring dream. Countless short clips of my semester flashed past my brain as I revisited the familiar places, chatted with a couple of friends who remained, and exchanged words with a current USP student about to leave for debrief. I recall questions without answers, an intense confusion coupled with a dangerous cynicism, a longing for understanding, tears for friends I was leaving, and a cry for recognition.

East Africa

2010-04-30T15:24:00.000-05:00

When driving through rural Ethiopia it was common to hear the world "highland!" being hollered or witness wild dances beside the road. Highland is first company that bottled water in the country, and all the screams and dances were a request of the empty plastic bottles.

Before arriving in the country, I forgot Ethiopia was the Rastafarian haven; unfortunate assumptions that were made due to my appearance: I smoke, am lazy, and worship Haile Selassie. I did however meet a real kind Jamaican Rasta with dreads down his back, around his waist, and tied like a belt with the excess draped down.

Ethiopian government run Internet is truly atrocious: 13 minutes. 13 Birr (almost 1USD). 3 short emails read. One 2 sentence email sent. network down.

The relationship between Ethiopia and Kenya seems quite similar to Nicaragua and Costa Rica. The comparison of Addis Ababa and Nairobi is also parallel to Managua and San Jose.

I have never been so glad to have voted for a particular presidential candidate as I have in the last election after traveling through Kenya. I've also never been asked that many times who I voted for! I'm not sure what would have ensued if I had answered incorrectly.

Ugandans pack more people in their matatus than Kenyans, but Kenyan matatus are often deafeningly loud.

It took me a few days, the internet, and support of various market vendors to convince my Kenyan friend in Nairobi that there was indeed a difference and distinction between bananas and plantains.

the only form of transportation...

2010-04-18T09:00:00.002-05:00

Picture this: A large african truck used to transport everything one can imagine; this one is white, a herd of cattle below, and a load of 30 or so human beings perched on the wide square ladace above, swaying back and forth and clutching tightly to the metal bars as the truck slowly groans over the always rocky or soupy road. Then throw in an Iowan right in the middle of the mix. At all the police check points along the "road" the police would shine their lights around in the faces of my friends and check their ID's; when they grunted at me, and I turned to face them (my head usually being covered), they would start with slight shock and exclaim, "oh a mzungu!" The 20 hour journey covered the remote area of northern Kenya from Moyale to Isiolo, about 500km of path; it is the sort of journey that after hour5 one can't imagine ever coming to an end, and when one approaches the final checkpoint before disembarking, one can't imagine that it was over so fast. Never again will a bus ride or flight be viewed in the same way; luxury again is redefined. But assuredly I was quite thankful I wasn't walking those 500km.

Now I am enjoying the beauty of fresh fruit, internet, ice cream, books, and companionship in Nairobi. I am being taken care of by a close friend of Joshua-- my Kenyan friend from Olivet. I continue to love it here. Matatu's here we come. I would love to share a picture of the truck, but I refrained from being the white girl behind the camera. I'm sure if you google "african trucks with a lot of people" you'll get a good idea of what I experienced. I plan to be in Kenya for the week or so, and then head to Uganda-- revisiting Uganda Christian University in two weeks at the latest! Great friends and memories to continue to reconnect with.

Addis Ababa, Ethiopia

2010-03-31T02:58:00.004-05:00

It seems fitting that I celebrate my reunion with East Africa on Kristin's birthday (close friend I met on USP in Uganda). I'm sitting on my CS host's porch, absorbing the green, inhaling garlic fumes, and listening to the score of birds singing their hearts out. Today is a peaceful day. One of naps and recovering and simply processing being back in Africa. As I scrambled in the minibus (shared taxi van-12+ ppl) at the airport armed with a few key names written on a scrap of paper, I acted like I had done it a hundred times before, but in reality I was grinning inside, as I felt comfort at being somewhere almost familiar. Somewhere "developing," but without the constant commentary and face freezing stares that are as prevalent as the scenery in the middle east. I'm sure everyone was aware of my white presence, but no one felt the need to stare obnoxiously at me or even pay the least bit of attention to me! That was a welcome surprise; I'm sure it will change as I head south and into more rural areas.

Everyday here is like a scavenger hunt. I receive a few names on the phone of various taxi stops, 3/4 of which I can't correctly pronounce; I murder their spellings and head out with the scrap of paper as my lifeline to the NGO or ministry that I am attempting to visit. Once, the woman next to me, upon witnessing my frantic attempts at recognition simply said, "Bingham?" when the taxi stopped to let others out... I gasped, "YES! THANK YOU!" I hopped out and followed her finger, straight to the International Christian school. Usually if the person I happen to ask doesn't understand me or know the place I am attempting to locate, they are quick to find someone who does. I went to church alone on Palm Sunday. After exchanging handshakes with the couple behind me during the greeting time, they invited me out for lunch with them after the service, mentioning that they "had children who were stragglers and had been blessed by so many others, this was their way to 'pay it forward.'" It made my day!! Crazy situations and timing like this happen everyday.

I've been here less than a week, and I already have plenty of stories. Since internet will be non-existent at the permaculture farm (I'm assuming), I hope to reconnect in Nairobi once I arrive! Most of my African adventures will have to be shared over a cup of coffee or across rows of carrots at the farm back in Iowa.

I'll end with one quote from a travel book I recently read that I can identify with: my trip is going very speedily and I am loving it, but this does not mean it is without its difficulties!! "At times like this in life, I usually found myself asking why. Why do people do this? Why do we invite trials, frustrations, and discomfort? Why do we intentionally put ourselves in situations that we know will push us beyond where we like to be pushed, to places where we know will be tough? Maybe, I finally resolved, there isn't one simple answer, just a longing to be tested and proven. A desire to know that we can overcome whatever obstacle we may be forced to face. It is only when we are pushed past our self-perceived limits that we are able to clearly see our truest nature, discover our deepest selves; only then can we hope to improve on what we fine. to do so is neither safe nor comfortable; it is both dangerous and scary..." --Erik Mirandette

on to Africa.

2010-03-24T07:47:00.003-05:00

I bade farewell to the middle east with an old and new friend at Don Vito's: great broccoli soup (although my mom does better) in an amazing bread bowl and some quality sheesha. Thanks to Jena for the accommodations and conversations while I waited for my visa; however, Yemen is not happening this year, and in a few hours, I catch the 4 am flight to Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. I will explore a week and study permaculture in Ethiopia for 2 weeks, then I will continue on through Kenya and on to Uganda. I'm extremely excited and a small bit terrified.

a few snaps from the road

2010-03-17T02:15:00.020-05:00

mainland Dubai from the edge of the palm Jumeirah, my home in the UAE

Muscat is plunked on and in between these ruggedly beautiful hills

typical Omani attire. I was told they originally borrowed the hats from the people of Madagascar

off-roading through the interior mountains and wadis a couple hours from Muscat

1000 km SW near the border to Yemen is Salalah, second largest city in Oman: the agriculture center of Oman and a green haven during the summer monsoon season (not now)

my battery was recharged as I wandered through the fields of beets, arugula, cabbage, bananas, papayas, dates, and cocoanuts. I tried in vain to communicate that I grew vegetables like they did...

Salalah is a smaller beach town, night and day different than Muscat: I could walk everywhere, although it was evident that was a unique thought. I saw no other tourists and about 6 women for every 1500 men on the street

the coast south of Salalah on the way to Yemen; I could have sat here for days

Manama souq: about 15 local artists had various presentations throughout the souq

from Salalah I took a 16 hour bus ride to dubai, rode a city bus, walked 2 miles, 2 day revival period, shared a taxi, tried out the metro, took a plane, and received a car ride from a friend, ending up back where I started 3 months ago: Manama, Bahrain. I've been here a week waiting for a letter of invitation for my visa to Yemen (process started a couple weeks before); sometimes optimistic, usually skeptical. very soon this final ditch effort will be abandoned, a plane ticket purchased, likely to Ethiopia, and I will again be on my way. It just pains me to give up on Yemen after all the communication and effort and excitement.

I have plenty of time currently for communication, and will have very little once I hit Africa. Please share any thoughts or questions you have for me. I posted all the pictures I have so far on my picasa site if you feel so inclined: http://picasaweb.google.com/mrgnttm

Oman

2010-03-04T03:09:00.004-06:00

Oman is a safe mountain coastal country full of oasis, wadis, ragged mountains, and kind people. A few brief glimpses of my experiences thus far:

Yesterday Luke, my couch surfing (CS) host, took me off-roading in his Land Rover; we flew over the back gravel roads, oohing and ahhing over the green hue the recent rains had created in the desert. As we ventured down into a wadi (dry riverbed, often in canyons), the "road" became more of a suggestion than a definition; here too, the rains left their evidence. Although we managed to make it out of a particularly soupy gravel creek bed, I soon found myself moving rocks and directing tires as we succeeded in crunching the foot steps and denting the door of his vehicle. The rocks were big. I haven't felt that useless in a long time: I know nothing about the tire range of a Land Rover, much less various traction techniques, and since we don't know each other well, there was an added layer of helplessness. It is terrible, feeling useless. Fortunately, Luke is very laid-back and patient and we eventual made it out keeping our spirits mid-range.

I have spent a number of hours at the Yemeni Embassy. Last month it was possible to obtain a visa upon arrival at any border, this month, one needs a letter of invitation from someone who lives in Yemen. Fortunately, the only man speaking English at the Embassy also is a kind man who loves his country dearly; he takes great responsibility to enable travelers to visit his beloved country in a safe manner--his desire is for visitors to meet the people and love his country as much as he does! Truly a generous man, he has helped me feel already welcomed by all of Yemen and explained to me that the Koran says if a man helps another, his help will eventually come back around to help him out when he is in need. I respect this version of welcoming and helping; in a sense, one is always hospitable, b/c he cares for his fellow man, and one never knows when he will need a favor from the next. Tonight I will travel to the very south of Oman as I wait for one of his or my contacts to pull through with a letter of invitation.

In my travels I am hugely dependent on people I have never met. The personalities, religions, and demeanour of these individuals is very diverse, and it has been quite enlightening getting a glimpse of into their thoughts, lives, and homes; consequently, these new acquaintances also see very little of me: who I am and what I think. This phenomenon has led to a great deal of self-analysis; what does define me, and how do I present this to others, verbally or not? So far, most of my thoughts are not conclusive or defined...

The first CS woman (50 and ironically grew up in Iowa!) I stayed with, Carolyn, and I had a lot of quality discussions and conversations sharing about ourselves. One such conversation was about parents and families: she never had a good relationship with her parents. In response to her questions about my family, I showed her pictures: I have never been so proud! I am blessed over and over to have such an amazing family and quality friends. After seeing pictures of my Mom and Dad, she kept saying "I want to met your parents!!" I told her to come on over. :) I've been in contact with my family often during the last few months; after hearing about my days of waiting and uncertainty about the visa, my Mom ended her email with this, her "quote of the day" for me:

"He does not seem to me to be a free man who does not sometimes do nothing." --Marcus Tullius Cicero

happy birthday

2010-02-27T10:16:00.002-06:00

It was Muhammad's birthday today: a national holiday here in Muscat! In celebration of the day off, Catherine's (the couch surfer I'm staying with) friend too us out in his boat for the afternoon. Lovely deserted beaches along the ragged jutting mountain coast. Definitely upper class Oman, but a delightful day, complete with Indian take-out from Bollywood Restaurant.

integrity

2010-02-20T00:37:00.009-06:00

My hosts, Marcus and Magaly (acquaintances from Sao Paulo), in Dubai have been most gracious; the breakfast spread, dinner menus, beach availability, and general hospitality remind me fondly of a Brasilian pousada. In regards the city of Dubai; however, I have different thoughts:

Marcus used a word to describe Dubai that I think fits entirely and exactly: artificial. I feel like a foreign creature in an unnatural environment, and it disturbs me. Of course, the ease of traveling, safety, and availability of everything, and my resort-like accommodations are luxurious and relaxing: but for what? To make the world a better place? I'm not seeing it. To be comfortable? Perhaps, although I've found that word to be extremely relative. For me, comfort and luxury does not include a facade of shiny buildings and clean streets or dazzling green grass or the luscious flowers of the irrigated parks. Everything here is fake: Most of the people are not born here--creating a hugely transient population largely ignorant of genuine middle eastern culture, grass does not grow, and land is created literally on water.

Being among tall man-made buildings, fake beaches, and indoor skiing hills is uncomfortable for me. A city boasting continually about this or that "accomplishment:" in the world scares and disgusts me: the blatant celebration of frivolous building projects and expensive "luxuries" does not reflect positively on humanity, instead the story of the tower of Babel comes to mind. The story follows directly after the life of Noah: the people want to build a city to make a name for themselves and construct the tallest building in the world in order that everyone would notice and think highly of them. If you recall the story, the Lord wasn't too impressed with that expression of human ingenuity either.

The more I ponder real vs. artificial --the importance of focusing on honesty, integrity, and living true to oneself and beliefs, in contrast to putting up facades, living without knowing yourself or your neighbor, trite reproduction of knowledge, evidence of a complete absence of critical thinking -- the more I realize it defines my way of viewing life. I'll take tents over motor homes any day; I grew up detesting pre-packaged school lunches and soda and loving all fresh veggies; I can barely stomach the cookie cutter communities in the states; I hated my classmates' blind ingestion of all that was presented to them; I seek communities and friends that are striving to live like Christ rather than just chatting about it every so often; if asked how I am, I will give an honest answer. It is simply how I was created; I strive to learn and experience life as REAL as I can find it.

In experiencing an extreme version of artificial life, I am able to very clearly understand why I love Nicaragua so dearly. I clearly remember sitting in the back of a truck on the way up the coast from San Juan del Sur with Jeremy. We were grinning from ear to ear because everything was deliciously green, hitchhiking was easy, and the countryside picturesque, and I said to him, "I love this!! I am so happy!! Life here is so REAL." Life in Nicaragua (or any developing country) is raw and real; there is struggle involved in every dimension just to survive, and yet much is enriched through the struggle, if you take the time to experience it.

In the comparison of Cairo and Manama (and Dubai): Cairo's problems of pollution, women harassment, and leadership are evident for all to see, and yet most people don't take time to understand the positives that come from the "real-ness:" how friendly and helpful the shopkeepers are when you are searching for an embassy alone by foot to avoid traffic, how incredibly cheap and tasty the food at the corner street stand is, how much you have in common with the veiled woman on the subway... Dena told me that Cairo is in the process of becoming one huge slum as everyone with money moves out to the settlements on the edge of the city; quite a depressing idea. But Real. The air is too polluted to inhale deeply without choking, taxis inevitable try to rip you off, families are torn apart or don't have enough food, but the realness of life in Agouza, Nicaragua, Albuquerque, (parts of) Sioux Center :), and Uganda speaks to me.

(obviously I'm only touching on a very small aspect of this issue/comparison. these are just initial thoughts; I realize the complexities involved, and depending on your 'contradiction' I might agree)

I will miss Egypt

2010-02-15T18:59:00.010-06:00

For my last hurrah before leaving Egypt, I joined the MESP students on a trip to the Siwa Oasis, in the Sahara Desert just 80km from the Libya border. And again, 5th grade social studies vocabulary words have taken on a completely different meaning: Sahara Desert, Oasis, Pre-Islamic. The desert was massive, raw, and simply gorgeous.

I am overlooking ruins that are the central backdrop from nearly every view in the town. The people in Siwa originally settled in the oasis when returning from Mecca on the hajj, they didn't think it necessary to complete the entire journey back to Algeria.

Although there are cars, buses, and motorcycles in the town, the donkey cart is still the preferred form of transportation for the Siwi families. The Siwi culture is pre-Islamic and is distinct from the Egyptian culture.
Married women are completely veiled with black over their faces, and the similar blue embroidered scarf distinguishes them; girls are engaged at a very young age and generally married about 10 years after. Dena is friends with a Siwan guy attending university in Cairo, and we were able to talk to him and ask him and his family questions about their culture. Tourism has increased significantly in this desert oasis in the last 10 years and the trend is predicted to continue; I found it quite interesting, that when questioned--not one person in his family could name even a solitary good thing about this inevitable "development". There is enough money and jobs in Siwa; tourism is simply destroying and complicating their culture. On the edge of Siwa is a salt lake. Although it is not quite as salty as the Dead Sea, the bobbing cork sensation is still present and amazing.
The desert is beautiful, the sand fine, the safari drivers crazy fun. We hollered and bounced as our jeeps screamed down dunes like this one, we somersaulted, rolled, and sand boarded down the dunes, made a fire and drank tea, watched the sun set, wrote our names in Arabic in the sand, and simply revelled in the very fact that we were experiencing the Sahara Desert.
I have been a part of a community here in Cairo, and its been wonderful and refreshing.
I did chase a photo op: guilty (don't be confused, the pyramids are just outside of Cairo, not in Siwa). Goodbye Egypt! and a huge thanks to Dena and MESP for letting me experience and learn so much while I was here!

I always have mixed feelings when leaving comfort and community for the great wild solo unknown; this time is no different. I'm excited for the next leg of my journey, but also a bit apprehensive as I ponder the possibilities. In a few hours I fly to Dubai to begin my journey south-east to Uganda; I will do my best to keep you informed on my whereabouts as I have very few predictions for the months ahead-- your continued prayers are requested!

for my photo albums of Egypt: http://picasaweb.google.com/mrgnttm

some architecture

2010-02-09T12:34:00.010-06:00

I visited a few mosques with the MESP group. It was quite informative, because a woman schooled in Islam and Islamic architecture provided a detailed commentary on what we were seeing, which consequently was a bit more academic than my usual ponderings as I wonder around by myself concluding various correct and incorrect things. This minaret was unique because of the stairwell was on the outside; I enjoyed it because you could stand on the very edge of the top rim and see Cairo from a bird's eye view.
and the view from the top...

I took a side trip to Israel. There were old rocks everywhere you turned. The picture below is taken from the City of David: an Arab neighbourhood is to the right, the Mount of Olives is in the distance, and the Old City is right behind me.

Suzie and I sloshed through Hezekiah's tunnel, imagining those under his reign back in 700 bc chiselling away and carting the rock out by the bucketful. For most of the route, the ceiling was hardly tall enough for me to stand up in; here suddenly near one end it angled way up. It seemed as if they started out with gusto, and then thought it was a bit extreme for just some water to flow through and toned it down a bit...

Later that day Suzie and I walked from Jerusalem to Bethlehem; it wasn't quite as picturesque as the Christmas cards suggest, but quite intriguing nonetheless.

The border reminded me a bit of the El Paso/Juarez crossing: deserted tourist shops and a large wall; however, the Israeli/Palestinian situation was more intense. More mazes. More men with guns. More hand scanners and voices over the loud speaker yelling at you.

From inside the wall... I recognized Che Guevara on the banks of the Rio Grande, not sure about these fellas.
We did find the Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem. We weren't ever quite sure the significance of what we were looking at, but we came across a large group of neon green scarved Korean tourists taking individual pictures in this same way that I am sitting and figured it was a significant site. It was the birthplace of Jesus. Always trust Korean tourists.
The art on the wall was phenomenal, political, and sophisticated. This is not a great picture, but I stopped dead in my tracks when I saw it and lots of OT passages came to mind.

I apologize for the lack of amazing pictures: me freezing on top of Mt. Sinai... scarf wrapped around my head and T-shirt over that with only my eyes showing, me in front of the Dome of the Rock, the streets of the Old City in Jerusalem . . . due to a couple of unfortunate un-noteworthy events, I no longer have a camera. frustrating yes. such is life. good thing for travel insurance.

Shared wisdom

2010-02-02T13:31:00.003-06:00

I'm enjoying the wisdom, hilarity, and unexpectedness of the comments and advice people have given me, in addition to that which I have found in the books I'm reading over the last few weeks. Here are just a few:

"I pegged you Israeli!! You look very Israeli!!" --Israeli military girl said in perfect English after I looked confused when she addressed me in Hebrew. She had lost her group at the Holocaust Memorial Museum; I was following them.

"American? (disappointed) I thought you were Dutch!" --fellow tourist guessing my nationality.

"That's spicy awesome!!" -- comment from a 3 year old after being offered and readily munching down a piece of raw onion.

"A church is where the two people groups with blue hair--young men and older women--sit together, and somehow it all fits together in a Eucharistic sort of way." --Rob Bell

"You are the light of the world. . ." The light needs to be softer. There are two things that blind us: darkness, and light that is too bright. Jesus ends by saying. . ."You are the salt of the earth. If the salt goes astray what good is the rest?" . . . You must disappear into society so that it finds flavor in the dish that is before it. You are not to be a landmark. You ahve got to be the condiment which makes it possible to taste and enjoy the food. You must be the way that leads to God. --Elias Chacour

"Don't chase photo ops, try to become a better person." --advice to me from a friend who knows me well.

"Our Cause is never more in danger than when a human, no longer desiring, but still intending to do our enemy's will, looks around upon a universe from which every trace of Him seems to have vanished, and asks why he has been forsaken, and still obeys." --CS Lewis in Screwtape Letters (senior devil to his apprentice, the enemy is referring to God)

"Where are you going? said the man. "I'm going to a secondary school in Cairo." "Alone?" he said. "Yes," I said. Again he gave me a long searching look. Before he spoke I said, "I like traveling alone, what's there to be afraid of? He replied, "All of us, my son, are in the last resort traveling alone." --Tayeb Salih (I think I at least conditionally disagree with this statement.)

I was in Israel this past week; my evenings were spent with a family from Iowa studying Hebrew and my days included the exploration of Jerusalem, Bethlehem, the Dead Sea, and Galilee. I gained a hoard of knowledge from both spectra. Tomorrow I hit the buses bound for Sinai: to spend some time lounging by the Red Sea and climbing Mt. Sinai before returning to Cairo.

a caravan of thoughts

2010-01-24T10:14:00.004-06:00

In between the physical adventures of camel markets and the architectural excitement of churches, mosques, cemeteries, and souks, I’m finding myself lost in books, conversations, and day dreams about the people around me: the colourfully veiled women subtly exchanging amused comments about my hair on the subway and the men, a few obnoxiously gawking, but most respectfully ignoring or offering a simple word in greeting. A bustling city: rich in history and religion and thick with smog and the cars that contribute; a city with a protective trust I have yet to discover elsewhere.

Incidents from the last week—independent yet intertwined:

Reclining gently in a train bound for Cairo from Alexandria, I relish the rarely enjoyed luxury of reading while placed on a moving vehicle. The text comes alive as I am transported back 50 years to an olive grove in Palestine, seeing through the eyes of a thoughtful and trusting 8 year old boy. I witness a father torn from his family and miraculously reunited; bombs and bulldozers destroy generations of history and love, and utter forgiveness and absolute peacefulness in the face of inexplicable and horrific violence. The tears are due as much from that whole-hearted effort to love, forgive, and live in peace as Jesus did, as the utter devastation that came upon this boy and his family.

I curl up on the balcony wrapped from ears to toes in a thick blanket cradling my steaming cup of tea as listen to a few birds, sporadic honking, voices and doors mumbling and squeaking as the neighbourhood gathers its energy for the day. Softly and pervasively I make out the words of the hymn Nothing but the Blood of Jesus wafting from the closed windows and doors of the villa below. The boisterous and gentle questioning verses and answering chorus quietly pervade my thoughts.

As I ponder the life and influence of a former neighbour and co-worker, I am saddened again by the brokenness of this world and weep as I see and hear of families being ripped apart in Haiti, Palestine, Israel, Uganda, Rwanda . . . Albuquerque. . . Images of gentleness and willingness come to mind as I type a character reference letter for Juan Mejia—father of five, a man who cared about the health of my stray and sickly kittens—picked up, with no warning, to be deported.

Sometimes my body recognizes unfair treatment, whether in the form of the deportation of a friend or due to incorrect assumptions, in a very physical manner. I feel right now as if someone has taken a large slab of stone and is pressing down on my head, gently but consistently and with force, compacting my body down the floor; I can feel the pressure on and in my head and chest, even my legs, and though I realize my physical position isn’t changing, I can see myself slowly being crushed smaller and smaller down to the floor, beneath this weight.

a camel market...

2010-01-22T02:11:00.001-06:00

compliments to Dena on the photography

Cairo, Egypt

2010-01-16T04:40:00.003-06:00

Cairo is a great city.

After witnessing so much excitement from former MESP students (middle eastern studies program—semester abroad program about 10+ people I know have went on), it is especially enjoyable to understand it first hand—as I buy veggies from the lady on the corner, attempt to find (successfully) the Episcopal church across town via the metro, visit the neighbourhood and downtown Ahwas (coffee-sheesha shops), and spend time in exploration and discussion with the MESP staff and current students who just arrived a couple days ago.

Im able to join in on the MESP activities and classes that I choose, but at any point can take off and do my own thing. So far its been a great balance, and fun to compare and contrast the MESP program with the Uganda Studies Program that I participated in a few years ago. Today I joined the group in attending a service at a mosque not far from our flat, and learned how to cover my neck and hair efficiently with a scarf.

The greater Cairo area is approaching 20 million, and the quantity of cars makes walking and taxi riding both exciting. I feel completely safe walking by myself around the city; it is true the men are often obnoxious, but they must have exchanged notes with guys in Central America: Ive heard it all before. In short, the sheer amount of culture, history, politics, architecture, and religion that is available to explore is astounding!!

Farewell Bahrain

2010-01-04T02:25:00.007-06:00

I visited Bahrain for the people. and had a blast. Thanks guys.

One day we visited an old fort on the outskirts of town close to what used to be the shore. They are expanding the island, so now it is a sort of half land/half water area where the tide comes up. Since the tide was low, we wandered around in it, finding that the still water indicated a type of quick sand, into which one quickly sank up to his knees in a gray substance strikingly similar to cement.
The malls reminded me of Sao Paulo. A picture of Bahrain I will always remember is the Muslim women in the mall: covered often with very large poofs in the back under their head scarf (stylish), quite blingy coverings, and cakes of make-up.
I met my first camel at the wildlife refuge in Bahrain. Although on the way in interesting animals like zebras and cheetahs were advertised, about 85% of the park's inhabitants fit into 3 categories: bird, goat, or gazelle.
I need my green spaces. When gazing from the roof of Jena's apartment (which I did often), one can only see one patch of green: the Muslim cemetery. Besides only being open on Thursdays, it's not exactly a place to hang out and fulfil my green cravings...a slight challenge being on a literal desert island.

Twas a great 3 weeks. Now I'm in Cairo, Egypt, a place I've heard much about, crashing with Dena after a 4 year lapse!

A Bollywood Movie

2010-01-03T09:13:00.003-06:00

In spirit of embracing the Indian culture in which Jena is forever entwined, she and Rey took me to see the Hindi movie The 3 Idiots. Jena has talked the ridiculousness of Hindi movies, and I wasn't disappointed. We were two white girls in the front row of a very packed Hindi crowd, laughing at the reciprocating moments from the rest of the crowd--a common issue with subtitled comedies: the points that are hilarious in Hindi to Indians, come in English when they use poor translating--and generally they aren't at the same time. 2 more distinctive characteristics of Hindi movies: they include a intermission, and periodically throughout the movie, all plot is halted while everyone breaks out in song and dance. The movie was the culmination of a superb day: in the morning Jena and I searched for fabric to stitch a shirt from, afterward we assembled and purchased a sheesha for me to bring home, and for lunch I had piping hot broccoli soup in a bread bowl at a very well decorated sheesha cafe, which made me miss the Humble Bean and Matt's creative juices. T'was a wonderful day appreciating Middle Eastern and Indian cultures.

Wedding Festivities

2009-12-27T08:35:00.014-06:00

I have collided head on with Jena's 2nd world and life in Bahrain, and it has been most satisfying and quite simply: an absolute blast.
When her immediate family showed up, we saw the sites of Bahrain: explored the ruins of an old fort, toured the Grand Mosque, climbed the "tree of life" --a loner of a tree in the middle of the desert, sampled the street food, and wandered the city and island....
There is a causeway connecting Bahrain to Saudi Arabia, with a mid-way island for customs and boarder details: from this lookout one can see both land masses. The lights of Manama--this mosque is very near Jena's house and church.

"The Rose" is a Goan Indian tradition included in the wedding festivities that includes large quantities of loud music, dancing, and food throwing. The entire wedding party sits on a large tarp spread in the center of the room, and close friends and family proceed to take turns pouring coconut milk or beer over their faces and bodies, cracking eggs in their hair, squishing tomatoes and drizzling chocolate syrup over everyone. Anything goes.
I participated whole heartedly in this affair and decided this tradition should be brought back to the US and included in future Dutch related weddings as well.
The folks were given a day of recovery before the formal event. Jena and Reynold Phillips:

motherland

2009-12-19T04:54:00.011-06:00

I have found that visiting another developed country (my first outside of North America) is a combination of the feelings of visiting a part of the U.S that one has only seen in scant photographs and an exciting historical architecture lesson come to life. Holland is very green with delightful puffs of sheep, numerous canals, and large blunt people. Generally on a scale of directness, height, and blondeness, in most countries I heavily weigh to one side, thus it was quite nice to be in the Netherlands and find myself on tipping the scale of the opposing side.

Amanda walked me around Amsterdam, Delft, and Gouda and introduced me to the delightful beer and cheeses that the country has to offer. She was a wonderful host for an indecisive guest; if I would have stayed too much longer, I would left much larger. I also witnessed Andrea's graduation from grad school in Den Haag and met her friends from literally all around the globe. I appreciated biking all over Den Haag! I loved seeing men in business suits, old ladies, and young hip middle aged women with a child biking everywhere and figured out that my biking skills could use some fine tuning.

Andrea <-- and Amanda -->

a trip

2009-12-06T15:34:00.002-06:00

I created this map to clear up any ambiguity that you might have in regards to my next trip and provide a visual to those who may have forgotten a few things since their last high school or college geography class. I leave tomorrow for the Netherlands en route to Bahrain for Jena's wedding on the 23rd. A few weeks later I will fly to Cairo, Egypt and spend a fat month there and places near there. The last and longest leg of my journey will be from Dubai, UAE to Gulu, Uganda: seeing what I may and traveling as much as I can without the use of airplanes. The scattered red dots represent various non-specific parts of the countries that I hope to visit; if anyone has a specific site to recommend, I'm quite open for suggestions. I will hopefully return to NW Iowa in 6 months, but plan to keep this blog updated throughout my wanderings.

As I travel, your prayers are greatly appreciated as well as updates on how you are doing. It is simply not true that "everything is the same..." and when one is traveling, it is always great to hear news and encouragement from loved ones back home.

Home again.

2009-12-02T15:47:00.016-06:00

Our friends were delightful and fascinating creatures to watch at the laguna; a great way to spend my last weekend in Nicaragua.

My last day in San Jorge was spent buying a combination of cheeses, beans, and various other exports; and tracking down a bag to pack it all in. Since the Rivas market is relatively small, I could only find one zippered rice bag like I wanted, and I proceeded to pack 45 lbs of goods into it, clasp my arms around it bear-hug style, and traipse around the bus system in San Jose. Please note the amazing rhyme stated on the front and realize that in Nica, Evangelicals generally do not even correspond with Catholics, much less tote obnoxious bags advertising the correlations. My contact in Costa Rica commented in a surprised tone that I was turning heads... quite obviously a different city than Managua, where my inconspicuous presence without my Mary bag calls for loud whistles and kisses.

This is my friend Lori and I saying farewell to each other and the general public, Sound of Music style.

Since I've been back in Iowa, I've been busy preparing for the next leg of my journey. My mom dug out this pattern she had stashed from the 70's, and I attempted to make a dress inspired by one Lisa sported during our time in Nicaragua together. I found the material at the thrift store in Orange City, the exact consistency I desired: to double as a fast drying towel. This is how it turned out...

Traveling is a large part of my life right now, but there is always a unique feeling of refreshment whenever I come back home. and it is good.

"Some people who wander are not lost."

2009-11-25T11:08:00.000-06:00

JRR Tolkien

Passion Fruit

2009-11-16T14:06:00.007-06:00

was used for the small jack-o-lanterns.

Due to sporadic internet and travels, my last weeks here have been quite undocumented. One story seems to well illustrate themes prominent throughout my current life. The abridged version is this: after planning to meet Nadji (a friend from Dordt studying abroad) here in San Jorge, I instead trekked the 5 hours north to Leon, hung out the weekend, and Sunday morning found myself eating fried cheese and French toast back in "my" apartment in Managua. The fellowship was delightful, and Lori was back! Lounging around in her apartment Monday morning, I casually decided I didn't need to leave Managua until the next day. The evening began with a knock on the door; it was the neighbor, and his wife was sick: free tickets for the Symphony!! Tonight!! Fortunately it didn't start at the time stated on the tickets, so we managed to find our seats with even a few minutes to spare, half put together and attempting to look formal. Lori called me critical after asking my thoughts, and thus I blame Dr. Duitman (Dordt music director) for my constant critiquing of anything less than perfect: the principal cellist thumped, the woodwinds' tone lacked, the first violins rushed... but Beethoven's 9th with a full choir in the National Theater was quite enjoyable, even with Duitman in my head. A reception of wine and fellowship followed, a continued celebration of the 20th anniversary of the Berlin wall falling, where I met and chatted with a couple of guys working at the Embassy. Comprehend this: after some moments pass, it comes out that he and his wife are leaving Nicaragua in December and are moving to Oman in January!! I responded in a shocked and astonished manner as we promptly exchanged email addresses; I promised to look him up--my first and only personal contact in Oman.

Friday I was in Granada with Lisa, and yesterday was spent at Laguna de Apollo: crystal blue water, sun, boggle, close friends... Twas a great way to spend my last weekend here (pictures to come). Tomorrow morning I will hop on a bus bound for San Jose, Costa Rica on Ticabus, less "chicken bus" more charter style, where I will stay with a former Dordt proff before flying back to Chicago on Wednesday and to Iowa on Saturday: where I will stay an entire 15 days.

simple joys

2009-11-01T12:53:00.003-06:00

I was in the hospital gaining fluids and having my platelets monitored for 4 nights after feeling quite miserable for a few days before that. Dengue hemorrhagic fever: http://www.nlm.nih.gov/medlineplus/ency/article/001373.htm just in case you want to know what I had. All in all I had great care, lots of visitors, and managed not to go completely crazy looking at the same walls for 4 days (longest I've ever been cooped up in my life). Now I feel great, I just am wiped out after doing very little, thus the last week has produced a lot of book reading and couch doting. Tomorrow I plan to head down to San Jorge to hang out with Mike and Joan (missionaries I lived with last year).

In the past week, any small outing from my apartment in Managua has been considered a great success and form of excitement: getting my blood tested, spending the night with Lisa and Nadji, going to the new grocery store... It has been a slow week.

Saturday though, I had quite an exciting day. The morning began on the volleyball courts downtown; my friends play on a gringa team called The Sunburns--I cheered them on with ferver and in vain against the tallest two Nicaraguan women I have seen. After which I accompanied Kate to a trip to PriceMart and back home, where I read nearly half of a roommate's book: Beautiful Boy, a memoir of a father dealing with his sons addiction to meth. The rain came in torrents in the afternoon and after driving to school, we discovered the soccer game was canceled. Spirits undeterred; however, we wrote a list and headed off to the grocery store to raid the dairy isle, later concocting a delectable calala (passion fruit) mousse, calala cheesecake, and fried cheese, along with the regular supper vittles.

It was after supper that we created the Jack-O-lanterns and played Bang. Appropriate for the day, I thought. Any guesses on what sort of fruits/vegetables we carved? Mine is the little guy on the right. What a great day.

Fall break

2009-10-28T12:00:00.009-05:00

Finca Magdalina: a coffee, honey, and plantain farm. Lisa and I spent a lot of time in the upper balcony of this 106 year old structure; from here we spent 8 hours hiking up and down the muddy and slick Maderas volcano.

It was a peaceful haven to read, journal, and enjoy life.

From Omatepe we were off to San Juan del Sur and a few places in between, eventually finding Playa Giagante: a peaceful fishing village just being discovered by touristas like ourselves.

Lisa and I made Pitaya smoothies. This is the purest form of magenta that can be found in the natural world, I am convinced!! It is a fruit that comes from a cactus and has the consistency of a beet.

We hung out in a beach house for 2 days. We had the whole place to ourselves, thanks to a old surfer dude we met hitchhiking.

After fully relaxing ourselves, we made our way back to Managua. Our preferred mode of transport was definitely the back of a truck, a lot roomier than the buses.

After a delightful break, Lisa went back to class, and I spent some time enjoying the benefits of Dengue.

A few more of my pictures and commentary can be found at http://picasaweb.google.com/mrgnttm/OmatepeYGiagante#

"Welcome Home!"

2009-10-15T09:12:00.002-05:00

were the words from my (continual) roomate Carey's mouth as we arrived from the airport at her apartment. After a lounging day in Managua, Lisa Vander Plaats and I have been trompsing around southern Nicaragua in some of my previous stomping grounds for nearly a week-- and now, I do feel again "at home." We've been to Omatepe (see posts from last year, I spent a lot of time on this island) and climbed Maderas, the dormant volcano with a lake on top, and recovered at a 100 year old coffee, honey, and plantain finca. From there we crossed the small stretch of tierra from the lago to the mar and bunked in a surfer hostel in San Juan del Sur, an intresting couple of days in all senses of the word, ending up surprisingly, back in San Jorge (port town to Omatepe) with my friends and family from last year. Today, we are off to Playa Giagante... a quiet fishing village and beautiful beach... (pictures to come)

I'm at a home here. (the "a" is not a type-o) My families here expect and enjoy teasing me about my lack of scheduale-- and the distinct smells of my life in Nicaragua welcome me like no other sense can: salty ocean breezes, floor cleaner. . . and that overwelming sense of Nicaragua that hit me as I stepped outside the airport: some crazy concoction of humidity, dirty trash burning, vegetation, sweaty bodies, and flowers...

More stories and pictures of our travels to come, when I'm back in Managua.

WHY?

2009-10-12T10:01:00.000-05:00

I feel like I am frequently asked this question: "Why would you (want to) do that?"
A fellow hiking group at the top of Maderas yesterday asked this when I referred to the sink mud near the lake last time I hiked it and advised them to be cautious. Why would I want to do this crazy/muddy hike twice in my life? The questions continue... What could possibly posess me to even want to travel around Oman and Yemen sola, of all things? Why would I want to be in Brazil during my last semester in high school? Why would I go study in Uganda of all places? Who would want to watch a cow being butchered and eat a dish with raw beef? Who would choose not to take along a water filter, selecting unavoidable sickness? What are you thinking?
A few people I have encountered can wrap their minds around it, and although they would never do or want to do these things, they can understand, and their jaws aren't droppng and their eyes do not widen with horror as I open my mouth. These people I find, often both understand and envy these crazy ambitions. I have also found a very small portion of this group that in turn, share with me similar desires, or perhaps more likely, desires of their own that others don't understand--Although quite different than mine, the reaction by others is similar.
In a way, I understand these questions and complete inability to understand another's desires: Why would one wear highheels nearly everyday? How could one stay even remotely sane sitting behind a computer in an office all day? (with admiration) How does is one a 6th grade teacher at SCCS for 40 years? Why is camping not desireable for every American?
It seems that it is as hard for me to understand these (and countless more) peculiarities about my fellow humans as it is for them to comprehend my desires and joys.
Thankfully, diversity abouds on this wonderful earth.

Crunching Leaves

2009-10-05T19:16:00.013-05:00

Back at Seedtime and Harvest organic veggie and flower farm for a week, I found myself pulling up plastic on the most beautiful fall day NW Iowa has to offer. This involves me trudging after the tractor and coaxing the buried plastic from the tangle of cover crop, damp earth and plow blade. The myriad of aromas of that morning was intriguing to me as I plodded along creating a poem of my thoughts as I silently named them: the sharp crushed weed seed pods mixed with a hint of diesel fuel, the wet black earth just freshly disturbed, slightly and every once in a while quite potent distinction of a rotten onion or a squash past its prime, the humid and heavy corn field on the breeze, the rejected cucumber laying in the parallel row, a whiff of the dairy and dusty gravel road running from it. . . A joyful time.
Many days were also quite rainy and cold, through which I was reminded of the therapy and luxury of a hot shower, dry clothes, and the nourishment and tastiness of fresh veggies. I plucked a few basil plants this particularly chilly day.

My first day back at Seedtime and Harvest we harvested a few squash. (notice behind the flatbed as well...)

I've loved squash ever since I was a little kid, as does my niece. I froze a bunch of the "seconds" I rescued from the farm with the irreplaceable help of Will and Elise.

I collected and traded baseball cards with fervor when I was younger; ask me about the stars of '94, and I'm all over it. I still enjoy baseball without following a stitch of it. Wrigley Field is a great stadium, and we had on enough royal blue and sang "Go Cubs Go" to compete with the best of the fans. The Cubs won, and we could see better than you might have deducted, even though we were nearly leaning against the very top of Wrigley.

My sister and brother-in-law who now live in South Holland, IL, used to live in Sao Paulo, Brazil (where I spent a semester in high school). They came across this Brasilian store near Wrigley Field-- from which we ordered traditional Brazilian food (2 days before (the minimum)) and ate with vigor upon returning home.

This is my sister Erin. She was standing inside Brasil Legal and I took the picture from the sidewalk outside; which seems quite inside out. I just enjoy the photo.

Farewell Midwest; I regret and anticipate that when I return, fall will have given way into winter. And I'm off to Nicaragua: Oct.7-Nov.18.

Farewell Mt. Vernon

2009-09-15T23:54:00.004-05:00

During the past few weeks I discovered many more beautiful roads in this country and after almost 2 weeks of tolerating this guy

hiking, movieing, camping, porterhousing in the stunning pacific northwest, I will return again to Iowa: to the farms, family, friends, for a couple weeks.

Recommendation: see Food Inc. If you can find a theater with an organist to watch it in, that also enhances the enjoyment.

The Pacific Highway

2009-09-04T11:34:00.007-05:00

Growing up, while tooling around the countryside in the Vanagon, my dad's favorite treat on vacation was to start the day finding the most local and podunk cafe to eat breakfast. This wasn't an everyday occurrence, because his second camping joy is to cook breakfast over the fire... so the the choice was an important one.

Since he hasn't been along on this camping trip, he told me of a place to stop in Kanab, Utah where I should stop--Houston's Road's End, a previously enjoyed local joint. Heads turned and continued to turn as I entered, selected a booth, and downed my eggs, bacon, hash browns, and toast in record time. It was as good as my dad remembered, oh 30 years ago?

This morning as I drove from my campsite at a vista point in southern Oregon along hwy 101, I visually scoured the small town roadsides for a cafe my dad would deem worthy. At last, I whipped a u-turn: The Greasy Spoon Cafe, a classic. A singe wide mobile home: grimy teal paint, local old men drinking coffee and eating bacon, long bald florescent light bulbs, .69 frames hung sporadically and at varying angles, and a sign prominently displayed that reads, "If you are grouchy, irritable, or just plain mean, there will be a $10 charge for putting up with you." The dishes are those same thin white 1/2 plastic and 1/2 glass that it seems every kid besides me grew up with, and I can see the entire kitchen and restaurant clearly from my booth in the back corner.

It appears to be run completely by 2 older white women-- who perhaps think I'm a bit interesting as well: dining alone and writing all the while on a napkin.

Natural Wonders

2009-08-29T17:20:00.005-05:00

Petrified Forest. Bryce Canyon. Zion. Death Valley. Yosemite.

I've seen much from my car in the past week; however, Yosemite I saw by foot. Cloud Rest trail head: not for the faint of heart in regards to heights... Since time was limited, I booked it as fast as my uninshape body could go. 14.5 miles round trip. 5.5 hours including a 20 minute rest at the top enjoying the view and allowing the chipmunks to steal bread out of my bag. I had no idea the view would be this stunning!!

Now I am visiting Doug and Betty Post (aunt and uncle) in the bay area of California, and will soon be off to see Joy Eklund (friend from Nicaland) before hitting 101 north. The bed, shower, and conversations with real people were more than appreciated!

Death Valley National Park

2009-08-29T16:58:00.003-05:00

As I approached the valley, I was curious if the ever prevalent park entrance rangers at the mouth of each National Park are mandatory. They are not.
I drove through most of the park with my windows open: coming in, so I could experience it, going out, to minimize the inevitable overheating. Right after stopping at the Information Center in the center of the park, I used the air for about 15 minutes, after a ranger told me that it was a “cool” day at 112, over ten degrees less than normal. (Suddenly I had nothing to prove with my windows open, some people live in this for months… right Jena.)
While driving in such forlorn places, three things always cross my mind numerous times: what if I were on foot or horseback before modern civilization…what if I was on the crew laying the roads…how long would it take to get me out of here if my car broke down right now?

Sea Level. 5000 feet. 1000 feet. Its amazing how fast those descending signs come flooding past. Massive. Raw. Desolate. For some reason I absolutely love it. I am realizing that when a land is stripped of its vegetation; one is truly able to appreciate the drop-offs, canyons, and mountains. Without the trees and brush, the roads seem narrower, the cliffs steeper, the sun more powerful, and the guard rails flimsier, but everything is visible; there is no hiding. I think that’s what I appreciate Death Valley and its surrounding mountains so much: the realization that one is driving precariously on the edge of a mountain cannot be camouflaged.

Wed. August 26. driving out of the park. highly recommended.

Casa Shalom: I will miss you.

2009-08-25T11:23:00.004-05:00

a re-definition of luxury

Luxury is the joy of not having to divvy up the bacon
still, cool nights with only the muffled crackling of the lantern in harmony with congregation of crickets
watching the sky and clouds slowly fade together.

Luxury is reading in the stillness
words written 2000 years ago and yesterday, both letters of love
received gratefully by the unworthy.

Luxury is a lined flannel shirt, dirty hands, and flames easily coaxed to life.
It is drinking coffee with cream and things
while perched on a rock: pondering, absorbing the paradox of the mighty creator, a human counterpart, and the other--the one who allows contentment and companionship to occur, when it appears I am alone with the cosmos.

Luxury is being
being a part of a community I miss dearly
being with the flowers and crickets and... that one.
The two families at first seem opposite
and yet
luxury is finding and fitting where one goes.

Kaibab National Forest on Alt89 just after mm571. I'd recommend the site.

Abuquerque, Iowa

2009-07-30T21:24:00.011-05:00

This morning while I was harvesting tomatoes for market, a meandering professional of some sort stopped by to chat, asking questions about the garden and what I was doing (if you are interested in seeing pictures, check Laura's link). I explained briefly about the ministry I work with and later I brought over some tomatoes to his truck, where we exchanged a few more words, and he wrapped up the conversation by asking where I was from. I responded, physically pointing to the apartments nearby, to which he says, "no, I mean originally, what country?" I get this question not infrequently; evidently he and others believe I have a strange accent.

While I was in the mid-west for a month, I saw a great deal of family and friends. Elise, Will, and I had a lot of time to hang out... While my sister's kids are learning to make faces... I'm not sure what my brother does to entertain his children... perhaps a combination of electrical outlets and too much children's Tylenol? but after some therapy, the appear to be quite fine after all.

I also found a long lost friend from Uganda-- DEBBIE! Who is now living less than an hour from Iowa, even though this picture was taken at the source of the Nile, 4 years ago. and then I witnessed the union of these friends. I've never seen such a striking combination of absolute depth and seriousness with pure crazy love and excitement.

A great summer.

Monday, when I was harvesting with an ECM intern--a former student of mine and neighbor, I told her two things that partially indicate my current feelings on teacherhood... At one point as she was being a typical 12-year-old obnoxious being, I grabbed her by the shoulders, chuckled and said, "You're not my student anymore, so I can shake you now, great ehe?" It was quite satisfying. A few minutes later, she lamented the quickly approaching school year, to which I replied smugly, "I decided summer just wasn't long enough, so I thought I may as well take the whole next year as my summer too."

Should be a great year of summer.

Golden Pride

2009-06-06T18:51:00.003-05:00

Being someone who rarely frequents fast food joints, as I waited for the Golden Pride employees to prepare the chicken order I was sent to retrieve, I wondered just what sort of people would come to yet another fried chicken/New Mexican food restaurant, newly opened about a mile from my apartment. If the 15 minutes I waited provided an accurate survey, I could put each of the customers into 1 or 2 of the following 3 categories: very overweight, cane bearing, and twitchy high schooler. Furthermore, I learned that when using a cane and ordering at a restaurant, it is standard procedure to place one's cane on the counter in front of you while doing so. I will keep this in mind, for I'm sure this knowledge will, just as the cane in my back window, come in handy one day.

the gray eyed one

2009-05-12T14:51:00.004-05:00

This morning in class, my contact fell out. I retrieved it from the floor and placed it in my mouth, determined to finish my sentence; however, I was immediately interrupted with shrieking questions, "You wear contacts? Your eye is gray!!! Ohhh weird... your eyes are really gray?? You look so weird!" I was amazed at how their perceptions were genuinely altered by their assumptions that all contacts were colored, and I tried to explain that both of my eyes were indeed blue, and my contacts clear. It was all in vain; they never believed me.

a week of art...

2009-04-29T13:32:00.006-05:00

To celebrate EARTH DAY in Language Arts, we made art out of trash and recyclable materials. My peace loving 7th graders...
On April 25, another teacher and I took kids downtown to sleep in a park, for the Invisible Children demonstration. I respect the families of the 7 kids that went; we were 2 teachers: a dread-head and a baldy (shaved her head the same day) both hardly 25. I was in charge, and like usual, had only a vague idea of what was going on! We were quite noticeable on the Albuquerque bus system and actually quite memorable at the event as well, being the youngest group in attendance. I believe everyone had a blast!

Nick and Chris are writing letters to their senators asking them to help stop the war in Northern Uganda. Andrea lives at Casa Shalom with me; I see her often--she a great writer and artist.

Spring at ECM

2009-04-14T19:32:00.017-05:00

My walk to ECM provokes a few thoughts...

What does this MEAN? No wonder the building has been sitting empty. . .

I envision this great naturalness hanging from the ceiling in the Bean. . .

Appropriate name, perhaps? I do enjoy the old man.

I am revived every afternoon reaching my hands in the dirt and talking with our chickens. I transplanted 1/3 of these tomatoes today.

Our largest greenhouse, erected a couple weeks ago and full of tomatoes.

I confirm it IS pretty high and staticky. Our chickens and rabbits are directly behind this contraption.

Yes indeed

2009-04-03T20:33:00.008-05:00

PACA basketball game record: 38 points

the joys of sewing machines

2009-03-10T23:30:00.002-05:00

Organization of papers has never been a strong point of mine. In order to combat this struggle, I purchased a retro flowered olive green portifile and scrounged up a handful of manila folders. In order to enhance this already portable file, I sewed a small case with backpack-like straps for it to ride in--from rejected and reasonably priced upholstery fabric from Hawarden, IA. Now I am able to walk to and from school. Although a couple students gawked at my apparel that day, they enjoyed the tie skirt-- made entirely from my grandpa's old ties.

comments & spring.

2009-02-17T16:58:00.007-06:00

After reading a Biography poem that I had written about myself as an example, one of my students said, "but Miss, you don't look like a teacher." Guess I need to go back to Goodwill to find some jumpers and apple vests...

Both of our printers were out of ink on Friday morning. After copying 3.5 pink copies from the one black vocabulary quiz, I hand-wrote 1.5 and figured my six graders could deal with it. I asked for a volunteer for the handwritten copy, which caused mild chaos to break out for about 10 seconds. It was brought to an abrupt end when one of my quieter students piped up above the ruckus to announce, "it's not like candy, you're not going to eat it; WHO CARES, its just a quiz!" after which she graciously accepted my quiz. Such wisdom can come from these mouths.

Students are generally not permitted to eat during class. When one boy was tempted to take out a snoop to enjoy, I gave him an evil eye, and his buddy said, "watch out, she ATE my Skittles..." to which I responded, "you bet I did! and they sure were good!" (no, I didn't feel guilty, he had bought them from a quarter machine during PE class...)

Today, the transplanting began. It was refreshing to have my hands in dirt again and catch a whiff of the baby tomatoes that I was coaxing to life. Tomorrow and the rest of the week there are hundreds of various pepper varieties awaiting their turn. Rabbits also arrived at the ministry only yesterday, they are small, soft, and amazingly calm creatures--the kids are wild about them. I was reminded of a similar type bunny I had as a child, fondly named Chocolate Bar.

Yay for seeing friends.

2009-02-02T22:18:00.004-06:00

Carmela stopped by on her way from El Paso to Dordt after Christmas break. We drove over 80 miles out of our way after blazing past a large sign that we were told "you can't miss," but eventually found the road up the Sandia Mountains right outside Albuquerque. My passengers were gracious about the extra mileage and said that it was worth it.

I happen to live right next door to Jeremy's sister who was married this weekend. He and a bunch of his kin spent the weekend in Albuquerque. We volunteered to stay up the night before the wedding and prevent various hoodlums from spray painting or damaging the large white tent in the parking lot. We played some 2 man rook and pondered how effective our non-violent efforts would be if they were called upon. Fortunately the tent remained white without any violence or pacifist demonstrations.To celebrate Martin Luther King Day, I took a trip up to see Jim and Jenny Van Ry. It is a beautiful 5 hour drive up to their cabin; such a change of scenery compared to the comparable drive from Sioux Center to Cedar Rapids. It is nice to have a place to crash in such a gorgeous setting. Now I just need to track down some snow shoes...
Feel free to stop by anytime!

aren't teachers supposed to be smart?

2009-01-21T21:09:00.004-06:00

It is amazing to me just how unintelligent my students believe me to be. Twice a week I join my students in their PE class to help monitor the chaos while the teacher conveys various sports skills. Today in the midst of a layup drill, one boy's shorts were suddenly around his ankles, another was lying on the ground, and the rest of the class was gawking and smirking. The culprit claimed he fell and accidentally removed his classmate's shorts. Not only was I standing less than two feet away, I happen to have survived middle school--consequently witnessing more than a few de-pants-ings on the soccer field and understand that it is not an accidental type occurrence. Honestly, how dumb do I look? It was hard to keep the amusement off my face.

in Albuquerque

2009-01-06T18:34:00.003-06:00

Yesterday I ate fried oreos.

Today I joined a community food co-op. Whole Foods and other nice companies donate the expired food, rather than using a dumpster, it is organized and divied out to people that want quality food for a fraction of the price ($15 a month). I promptly made stir-fry. You can't see the 10 onions and 5 potatoes in the picture.

Tomorrow I will complete my 3rd day as a teacher. It's an interesting thing for me to say I am a teacher; I think I will be qualifying the statement for quite some time.

transitions

2008-12-29T18:44:00.009-06:00

January has been a month of excessive transitions for me for the past 3 years.

In 2006 I had just returned from spending a semester in Uganda. January (and the following year) involved some intense reverse culture shock and significant changes in how I viewed myself, the world, and God. I took this picture out the bus window as we were leaving an AIDS Orphanage in Rwanda. A great picture: the bug is alive and unfortunately was grafted to a stick--a genuine version of those plastic pinwheels they sell at Walmart, and the girl in the background is obviously pretty cool.

In January 2007 I arrived in Nicaragua, dreadless, and completed my last semester of Dordt by student teaching at Nicaragua Christian Academy. I had a riot teaching middle school, coaching basketball, and trompsing around Nica, Costa Rica, and Honduras. In January of 2008 I returned back to Nicaragua. The time in between was spent cultivating and eating organic veggies, substitute teaching, and providing child care for my newly birthed twin nieces. Back in Nicaland, I moved in with some missionaries I had never met before a couple hours from Managua. I joined the organize chaos of managing a household of 9 at a small girls home, gardened on a volcanic island, practiced my Spanish-- and also had time for a road trip to Panama, a beach trip during the first hurricane of the season, and a few more experiences... and nice Panamanian road. Contrary to popular opinion I am NOT named after the pirate that took over half of the country... am I mom? Captain Morgan... from Iowa. January 2009. I'm off to New Mexico. I will be able to use and practice my Spanish, without risking taking the wrong bus or cluelessly agreeing to something unknown... as in Nicaville. I'll be gardening, biking, hiking, and exploring the city of Albuquerque and the state of New Mexico, and teaching these hoodlums...

I'm excited to see what this January and following semester will bring. Classes start on Monday, January 5.

welcome

2008-10-15T20:09:00.006-05:00

Now I am not the only dreadhead living in Sioux Center. I tried to prepare Jeremy for the painful transition, but I'm not sure I was successful. I had a more enjoyable time hacking the crap out of another guy's hair, rather than being the recipient of the intentional torture session.

Danielle, Matt, Jon and I did the honors.
it really is quite painful.
a final waxing.
and there are some dreads.

the cabin

2008-09-18T20:38:00.012-05:00

There are two great things about this picture. My brother's hair and the water it recently experienced. My parents just bought a cabin on Big Stone Lake in Minnesota-- a cabin with many childhood memories attached, the same cabin my grandpa sold about 15 years ago. Being quite young during the cabin days, I live most of the memories through my siblings recollections. What I remember most clearly is that we each were allowed to pick one box of cereal for a snack to eat on the ride up to the cabin and throughout our vacation. My sister ritualistically chose Golden Grams, my brother settled for Cookie Crisp (after one year trying something terrible and getting stuck with it), and I selected Cracklin Oat Bran which is still my favorite cereal of all time.

the porch.

out of place

2008-08-18T23:07:00.002-05:00

Today a mouse ran up one short leg opening, across my leg, and out the other short leg while we were digging potatoes. I stood up and yelled for a while. The mouse probably heard me and was squeaking equally as energetically back for disturbing his dining area.

to sum up the last month

2008-08-14T09:51:00.012-05:00

I've been lost in the depths of central Indiana for the last month, working on Victory Acres farm in Upland with Dan and Julie and Andrew. It was definitely a learning experience: the details and amazingness of pregnancy, names of weeds, and the gas boom (both in the gas city, Indiana museum and in the Perkins/Kroeze trailer).
I spent my days harvesting veggies, weeding, digging trenches, and eating cherry tomatoes. the afternoon generally included a dip in Taylor Lake. at night we explored the area: we drove around discovering roads we hadn't been on, sampled some local restaurants, camped, hung out at the coffee shop, or bonded with Bill from Freaks and Geeks.
Twas fun and relaxing.
In the middle of my time in Indiana, I took a trip to San Diego to babysit for a destination wedding. I enjoyed the kids a lot more than La Jolla. If I had any doubts about my lack of desire to live in Southern CA, I don't now. The style of living suggests more money, manicures, perfection, and superior attitudes than I can stomach. a visit was nice, but I was glad to return to Indiana.
I enjoyed Dan and Julie and Andrew and the other people I met from Upland. In Uganda Diana and I were marveling that wherever one goes there are cool people and every move one thinks, naw, there can't be more...but usually there is and I'm glad.

The is the picture I took when we were leaving to represent the last month. I am a fan of the truck.

and Iowa.

2008-07-07T09:15:00.009-05:00

I am back in the midwest for a time. Enjoying the lazy streets and relaxed atmosphere of Sioux Center.
Weddings... yikes. These are all my roommates I had while was at Dordt. We represented (in order) Washington State/Chile, Fort Dodge Iowa, Bahrain, Nicaragua, Inwood Iowa, Kenya/BC, Uganda/Ontario, and Hull Iowa.

We went kayaking on the most beautiful day in Iowa. Down the Rock River, through the fields...

The Iowan countryside from atop a silo. Joy, this is what is between Orange City and Sioux Center. Kinda like the suburbs near Concord, I assume. (Joy is a friend of mine in Nicaragua. She is from the Bay area in CA and didn't quite understand that Orange City is not a suburb of Sioux Center). The sky is huge. welcome summer.

fare thee well...

2008-06-19T15:25:00.010-05:00

I love Nicaragua. This is Joy and me physically demonstrating our love for the country. It has become my second home. These are some things I love about the country.....

The beaches. ok actually this picture was taken in Panama. but not because Panamanian beaches are better, but because I don't have a good picture of a Nica beach.

The food. especially the street food. quesillos! I'm thinking of starting up a stand at Dordt, hopefully the community isn't to0 pro-pig to appreciate a concoction without meat.

The volcanoes, trees, views. This is the Rivas cemetery which was a very peaceful place to relax. In the background you can see Conception, the volcano Jeremy and I stood on top of.
The colors. the details. the cemetery was so festive.
I feel at home in Nicaragua. the lack of personal space, the animals meandering wherever they see fit, the bikes, the potholes, the fried chicken and gallo pinto. the friends. and lori, please wear that shirt often, and joy, take pictures of it for me. :) Farewell Nicaragua, until next time.

painting

2008-06-12T13:37:00.013-05:00

In between all my wanderings, I've been painting. My camera died before I could take pictures of the bedroom I painted blue and one I will paint teal. The second coat on my room hopefully will be toned down a bit to a less knockout coral... and two of the walls in all the rooms are white to balance and brighten a bit. Its amazing how transforming a bit of paint is. (bedroom, kitchen, porch, living room)

pomp & circumstance. mangos. feet.

2008-06-11T20:33:00.006-05:00

This weekend, I was again in Managua. I believe I caught all 3 buses and a taxi at a jog: perfect timing. NCA's graduation is a big deal for 2o graduates, and the ceremony is followed by a formal banquet, complete with dinner and dance. This is Karis and I. She recently was acknowledged as 'most likely to wipe out in high heels.' We get along real well.

The rest of the weekend consisted of Boggle and mango pie. We had fruit party--during which we ate smoothies, mango pie, and cookies, and dressed like fruits. I attended a flag football game and cheered our team on to complete their league domination wearing a purple pipe cleaner mustache (the team's name is the bigotones, mustaches). Most nights before bed Joy and I would play Boggle and I would eat popcorn. In the mornings to start the day, we listened to hymns, ate leftover mango pie, played Boggle, and I drank coffee. Being a terrible speller and generally bad Boggle player didn't slow us down much. This weekend it felt a lot like summer, and it was nice.

A picture of us hanging out. Us being me and some extra appendages. I'd claim the feet in this picture to be mine, but I think most of us know that in order for my feet to be in that proximity to my head, a lot of blood would be involved. I would also prefer these feet to be mine due to their size and cleanliness. and agility. Lori will have no problem leading a normal life if she loses both of her arms.

the last few weeks

2008-06-02T19:51:00.006-05:00

I was a chaperon for the middle school and high school retreats for the youth groups of 'International Christian Fellowship'-- the English church that meets at NCA. With the MS, we hiked Maderas, the dormant volcano on the island, and surprisingly, everyone made it up and down!! Even the 7th grade girls who probably couldn't define the word 'hike.' They enjoyed the quick mud at the top, and some of them slide down the volcano completely covered! I ended up leading the "fast group" of boys down the last 2.5 kms. After jogging for a while, I stopped suddenly to count the group to make sure I had everyone. 6 kids were right behind me. Who else is there? I ask. Luke and Rodrigo are back there yet, one offers. They catch up. Later, we are again waiting for those two. Eventually Daniel offers: Miss, Rodrigo's jeans are so heavy with mud, he took them off to be able to keep up with you, so he's staying back a bit. HA. That's great, I laughed. I had forgotten how much I enjoyed middle schoolers-- I had taught all these kids last year.

The high school retreat was a bit more tranquilo. We hung out at a retreat center, and the two times there were questionable activity going on or things broken, a leader was directly involved.

Jeremy and his Dordt class came and went. I crashed their class a bit and accompanied them on a couple of the farming trips. We bonded together through bumpy roads and some terrible rook games. Jeremy stayed longer to hang out with me which was GREAT. We climbed the other volcano on the island from 22 meters above sea level to 1610 meters at the top! I ripped my favorite shorts up, sliding down the warm volcanic rock and gravel coming down from the top and the sulfur fumes from the active crater were quite intense. Then we took of for the beach. We had a huge porch to ourselves and hung out on the beach reading and playing cards. There weren't a lot of people around, due to the drizzly weather and coming hurricane. We hitchhiked back out to Rivas in the pouring rain of the first hurricane of the season. Thankfully, there were a couple trucks heading our direction, though it was a numbing ride, it would have been quite the hike. I also introduced Jeremy to the public transit system. He eventually figured out why I kept taking the window seat.

I'd normal post a sweaty picture of us climbing the volcano or posing on the beach, but my camera is dying, thus those pictures sadly don't exist. This is Jeremy. and me. in the Bean before I left in January. we looked and smelled like typical backpackers. whoops.

rain.

2008-05-11T13:45:00.003-05:00

a saturday night, and I was watching a movie that has been on my to watch list for about year. a momentary loss of power was unwelcome. 5 minutes later it was gone for good. As I lay sprawled on the semi-cool tile floor, Georlene came bounding from her dark room to announce "LLUVIA!!!" to which I express a skeptical, "si?" a spit second later, the rain was here... the smell, the rejuvenation, the life. good thing I wasn't home alone, or I would have been so enthralled and wondering at the presence of rain I would have stood gazing into the sky for an untold amount of time before realizing that with the rain came wind and wetness to things meant to remain dry. After some moments of scrambling with dying candles and flashlights and soggy chairs and slippery floors, I returned to the front porch hammock to experience the disco style lightening with the rolling and occasional clap of thunder that accompanied the loud rushing of the rain off the roof. I celebrated the end of 4 months of absolute dryness with some saved-from-christmas Lindt dark chocolate and some Nica cheese.

After the snack, heard a incessantly shrill voice of a kitten just outside our wall. With the bars prohibiting me from seeing the small animal, I ventured out the front door, offered a greeting to those walking down the street, and through the small space in the barbed wire fence leading to the open lot next to our house. a small soaked kitten huddled in a little ball pleading to me with hope-filled meows. he quieted when I picked him up and didn't even comment when I was temporarily stuck in the barbed wire. He wolfed down the dog food I gave him. By candlelight I examined the minuscule lumps under his fur to discover the indeed were alive. After removing at least 25 of those bloodsucking vermin from his head alone, I deemed the candle and I did not have enough life left to tackle the rest of his body. I made him a box to spend the night in our backyard.

He woke me at 5:00am. I got up to comfort him, and we both went back to sleep for a few hours. When I arose for the second time and showed my cute little kitty to Georlene, she told me I needed to get rid of it-- the lice (or whatever technical name they have) would get in the dogs' fur (and my dreads I thought to myself), and there were just too many to remove. Consequently, we left him begging at a neighbors house. a bit depressing. I guess on a positive note, I gave him a square meal and a dry place to sleep on his journey.

the beach.

2008-04-28T22:34:00.003-05:00

the necessary furniture + the sun + the sand = a relaxing Sunday afternoon.

joy. and then tears.

2008-04-19T13:31:00.010-05:00

Flashback to Semana Santa, Easter weekend. We piled the girls into the back of the blue truck, drove through sugarcane fields and down roads lined with mango trees smelling like over-ripe squished mangoes. Spirits were high, and the girls were singing over and over, "adonde va? adonde va? a campo alegggriiia!" After more beautiful pastures and newly planted cane fields, we arrived at the camp, started by people from Maine, and used their lake beach. The waves were big enough to knock a 10 year old over; we loved it and came back the next day for more! Notice David in the background. Some Nicaraguans don't prefer sun.

The kids went back to school on Tuesday, after a week of fun and games. I was at the house all day Tuesday and left alone with the 9 kids at supper time. I did manage to re-heat some rice and soup and boil some plantains and keep somewhat of a peace in the house. When everyone (Mike and Joan, the house mother, and Hazel) came back to the house, they explained the nightmare. The government agency that places the kids with us, Mi Familia, decided they needed to remove the kids from the house--that day. They had convinced them to wait until morning, time for the lawyer to come from Managua, time for us to tell the kids and get them packed up. The kids went to school the next morning (Wednesday march 26), met with the psychologist (who has been helping them transition into the house and deal with their problems) and found out they were being placed in different orphanages, ate lunch, packed up, and said goodbye to their new family.

We had less than 24 hrs to mentally prepare and pray. The girls had about 3. It was a terrible week. There are a lot of legal details and mistakes and the situation is complex. Simply put, Mike and Joan have been working to receive their official license for 3.5 years and they are within a few months of completing the process. Mi Familia, knowing their license status, placed kids with them, understanding that they were getting cared for. With the new government last year came a stricter interpretation of the law, and someone decided now was time for all children to be legally documented, which includes removing kids "illegally" placed and putting them in a center that is properly documented. Yet, in the following days and weeks, it turns out that Mi Familia was not legally able to do what they did, and it certainly wasn't in the best interest for the kids, one of their main policies.

If my explanation doesn't seem to make sense and you have a lot of questions, welcome to our world. It doesn't make sense. period. The girls went to different centers around the area. Typical centers/orphanages with many children, a bit different than the family setting that was being created at our house.

The following pictures were taken as a last fun family time--on the porch, all packed and waiting to be picked up.

All the kids, Mike and Joan, and I.

Julietta and I got along wonderfully. We are in the middle of a dog pile, and she was trying to suffocate me.

Juana, Julietta, me, and Daniella hanging out one more time.

As to what is next? not sure. Reflect. Pray. Wait for the licence. Continue working with the other ministries we are involved in. Clean stuff (like the stove).

11 en total

2008-04-09T21:20:00.007-05:00

Today I received a new perspective of the phrase "I cleaned my stove today." Mike and I completely disassembled and scrubbed a horrendously filthy stove this afternoon. When we reached the insulation, it was evident why the stove smelled so terrible; however, barley 5 minutes after Mike suggested with a glimpse of optimism, "at least they are gone now," we spotted the first set of whiskers. Not a few moments passed before the largest rat living in the apartment stove made a run for it. My shouts brought Jeorlene, our Nicaraguan housekeeper, and Mike and Joan; together we scared it out from under the cactus and chased it out the gate where it met its demise from Jeorlene and the garden rake. The rest of the stove demolition took place outside our gate in the back of the truck. Jeorlene eventually prodded out a total of 6 baby rats and 4 more larger ones and finished them off with her machete. I cringed a bit, fondly remembering my pet rat Eddie from years past. The neighbors, oblivious to the slaughter occurring outside their gate, were playing carousel music. The similarities to those ridiculous killer movies was a little too much.

Road trip Pictures

2008-04-09T20:22:00.016-05:00

Soon after entering Panama, Joy was pulled over by a moto-police. If the police would have followed his law book and not Lori, Joy would have received a ticket for driving in the left lane (allowed only when passing), and for her expired license: a hefty fine and confiscated car. Lori chatted with the nice man for a long while.

On missing our 'exit' to Panama City, we ended up in the middle of it with an insufficient map: 3 & 7 year old guide book backpacker maps. During our 3 day stay in the city, we visited almost every neighborhood either intentionally or accidentally.

We ate a lot of beans and tortillas. We were a little devastated when we found out Panamanians ate little of either.

Seeing the canal, re-learning some history and engineering, and understanding some of the future plans and renovations was quite intriguing. I have an immense amount of respect for the constructors and visionaries of this canal. Perhaps a tad bigger than the canal in Orange City?
The last couple days in Panama we spent relaxing on a couple islands just off the mainland. We had this island beach entirely to ourselves for the afternoon. We imported the hammock.
This guy slowed us down a little. After help from a nice taxi man who sang to Ave Maria, and new tires from the AutoMaster we were again, on the road. Whoops. The three gringas: Me, Lori, and Joy. We played a bit of speed scrabble on the trip as well. I was very proud of the Buick: "Esperanza" held up just fine.

--if you are REAL interested in more pictures go to this link. Also see links to "joy" and "lori" for more interesting fotos. http://picasaweb.google.com/mrgnttm

Road trip to Panama

2008-04-03T10:05:00.003-05:00

Three female gringos. 96 Buick. Nicaragua plates. A unique combination in Panama. Supposedly, one must only make a right hand turn in Managua on the Pan-American highway and it will lead straight to downtown Panama City. It`s not quite as obvious as it may seem; needless to say, we saw almost every part of Panama City in our attempts to navigate to the desired sites. Joy has racked up a hypothetical total of about 800 dollars in licensing and ticket fines and a confiscated car, but thanks to Lori´s smooth talking we have not paid a dime. yet. and aren´t hitch-hiking. yet. The boarders have been uneventful, Panama Canel intriguing, and the bean tortillas tasty. After a night in ¨hotel hong¨we will continue from Santiago to some islands and beaches south of David and the moutains in Costa Rica before returning to Nicaragua.

Kitties

2008-03-27T18:25:00.005-05:00

This picture is for my niece, Elise. After I told her about the kittens, she wanted to come visit, and after convincing her it was just too far, we compromised with a picture. We discovered them one day in the flowerbed, and the dogs still forget that their mother is a bit over protective. The furry little beasts soak up my loving and are a comfort after a long day.

If only it was blue with IA plates

2008-03-15T18:46:00.007-05:00

If the ferry wasn't leaving in 10 minutes, I would have paused to chat with the owner of this marvelous vehicle. He certainly had a moment, stuck in the beginnings of the Semana Santa (holy week) craziness that takes over San Jorge's usually calm port and all of Nicaragua. When I spotted this familiar looking Vanagon amidst the chaos, I felt an unjustifiable bond to the older man behind the wheel and exclaimed several sentences aloud in my excitement. Although our Vanagon has died in CO and SC and everywhere in between, I think it would enjoy a trip down south. Forget Chicago: pile the FBE club in and come on down, Dad!
If some of you wearing bifocals still can't read it: Quebec.

10:23am. Thursday morning. Pre-traditional Semana Santa: San Jorge's deserted Lake Nicaragua beach becomes hopping with people. I think I'll wait a couple more weeks to go swimming. Despite the pictures, I made the ferry right with a few minutes to spare.

2008-03-10T13:46:00.011-05:00

Aboard the ferry once again: Wendel Berry usually only lasts through the loading and initial embarkment, after which I stare at land to keep my cucumbers where they belong. San Jorge to Omatepe: 1.25 hours.

Kevin is the only boy at the "girls' house." He must always be at the source of any given excitement and thus does not appreciate my role of reinforcing nap & bed times. His clever attempts at diverging me from my duties grants him my appreciation at his four year old wisdom and a dangerous posibility of being thrown out the window. He has a 11 cm hole between the lobes of his heart and hopefully will be operated on within the next few months by a medical team coming from the states. A very independent and sweet kid to work with.

The sheer number of people that came to this basketball court on the island for a free lunch, cooked by Nicaraguans & served & financed by a team from the US, reminded me of the yearly free food picnic in Central Park that nearly everyone in Sioux Center attends. Yet another similarity between the Dutch and Nicaraguans.

Back to Nicaland

2008-03-08T18:46:00.008-06:00

My view of Mt. Conception on the island of Omatepe as I try to persuade the earth to give way and my veggies to grow. In addition to the 'garden' I am attempting, a public pre-school meets at the community center in the morning, and an adult sewing class in the afternoon. Most of them stroll down the bikeway, observe my physical labor through a sideways glance, and respond to my greeting of 'adios' with a look of perplexed amusement. They are getting used to my presence, and hopefully soon they will see the fruit of my labor. The radishes I planted last week are already coming through the cover of palm branches! The green haze you notice in the middle of the garden is Yucca; planted and tended by the day guard, Michael, a incredibly patient and understanding Nicaraguan who is plagued all day with my Spanish. The handle belongs to my well-loved tool--my tiller; even though I'm as tan as a Nica, my heart is not quite there--I love this tool more than my machete.

Botania, Julieta, y Kevin are 3 of the smallest kids at the 'girls house' who I work with. The house is located in San Jorge (on the mainland) a few blocks from the house where I live with the missionary couple. In December, they moved from the community center on the island. The other 6 girls range from 7-12 yrs. They love mangoes, rice, arguing, soccer, playing uno, and catching iguanas. During the last 3 10+ hr days with the girls, I decided I could not successfully raise 9 kids under the age of 12 myself. if they speak only Spanish. These innocent looking & amazingly cute kids are terribly strong-willed.