To me, the parks in Quito were the highlight of our Sunday stroll.  Literally everyone and their mother was out enjoying them too.  There were bike paths rivaling Portland’s, carnival rides for children, small amphitheaters, and futbol fields galore.  These city parks along with national parks are free to all.  Thank you presidential mandate!

Match Day!

The rush of adrenaline and euphoria in getting our preferred residency programs was incomparable.  I wish I could explain it better.  Anyhow, at the end of the day I’m excited and very content to be headed to the University of Minnesota’s Pediatric Residency where I’ll be training at hospitals across the Twin-Cities!

Originally to be held as a tour of the lakes within the city, the event was relocated due to thin slushy ice on the lakes and quite frankly, no snow.

The new course was in a park with snow-making capabilities and it was a blast.  As the locals called said, “there’s a lot of terrain.”  I enjoyed the ups and downs of the hills familiar to the east-coast, although my lungs weren’t used to sprinting up and down them.

Hospitals ran without support staff and with only the most fundamental of supplies. I saw fractures being set without pain medication and sometimes without even an x-ray. Why? The answer is simply that the patients couldn’t afford it.

One woman came in with symptoms of congestive heart failure. She was short of breath and had significant swelling and pain in her legs. A resident doctor on duty evaluated her for free, a service provided by the state. But the healthcare coverage stopped there unless the woman or her family had the means to buy the treatment right there on the spot.

In this case they did. A family member went to buy diuretics, a needle, a syringe, gloves, gauze, and tape from the pharmacy across the street. They came back with the supplies in a brown paper bag, and the doctor administered the medications. This bare-bones supply system of sorts was commonplace at many hospitals across Haiti.

There are an estimated 25 physicians and 11 nurses for every 100,000 Haitians. This makes them a valuable asset to the country. (By comparison, its neighbor the Dominican Republic has more than 185 physicians and 180 nurses for every 100,000 residents, according to the World Health Organization).

When the magnitude of “something vs. nothing” is so powerful, their every act of care makes a great difference. In the days following the earthquake in January 2010, knowing that these strong and dedicated Haitian doctors were on the ground working hard as they always did was a central part of me personally coping with the tragedy.

Returning to Haiti two years later (over the recent winter break) showed me once again the effects of chronic endemic poverty. The common pediatric illnesses requiring hospitalization included malnutrition to the point of kwashiorkor, and gastroenteritis to the point of severe dehydration. In the outpatient setting, it was again and again cases of abdominal parasites and ringworm.

Parents often said they couldn’t afford to buy treated water or age-appropriate formula. Across the board, healthy children were still under-weight and under-height compared to international norms, stunted by their living situations.

During the most recent trip, we were fortunate to shadow and precept at St. Nicholas, a hospital in financial partnership with Partners in Health. They had many basic medical supplies and medicines in stock, free for patients. This made a world of difference.

One evening our group met at the home of Dr. Kerling Israel, a young Haitian physician who has trained both in her home country as well as in the U.S. and now works for Partners in Health in Saint Marc. We asked her what she felt Haiti’s health system needed most.

She answered thoughtfully and carefully: two things.

The first, she said, was medical supplies; the plastics, the instruments, the medicines that are simply nowhere to be found. The second is investment in sustainable operations. One example is her current work to build permanent partnerships between Family Practice Residency programs in the U.S. and the Residency training programs in Haiti. This exchange of faculty and residents benefits all involved and strengthens the future health infrastructure.

I witnessed the effects of chronic endemic poverty both before and after the earthquake, and the subsequent international aid response. In most ways not much has changed, but at least we’re getting closer to understanding and solving the long-term solutions. Many people, inside Haiti and out, are taking the first steps to raise the standard of care where it is needed most.

And yes, we did play beach volleyball with the Argentinian UN soldiers.

To say the least, the mountains were beautiful and the sweat it took to hike up to the mountain top was all worth it.

There were 15 boys and 11 girls cared for by one mother from the village
who cooks for them when they have food. Unlike many orphanages in Haiti which are run as businesses linked to lucrative donations from the western world.  This orphanage was stand-alone and not standing on much if anything at all.  We knew of it through one of the Haitian doctors who has volunteered there in the past providing care for the kids.  Food comes on a time-to-time basis whenever there are donations. They had not eaten that day and they had no food stored.

Rather than give money, we sent one Jeep  back to the city to get a filling
hot meal of rice, white beans, and a sauce with meat. It’s a
traditional Haitian meal commonly served at holidays and Easter. We
also had cake and soda for everyone.

The orphans, aged 5 to 17, were very polite and patient and there was
enough for seconds for most. After dinner we gave them the gifts of new clothes that were donated. The girls especially liked their outfits and you should have seen the look on the boys faces when they received their new nike sneakers.

Thank you so much for your generosity. The clothes and the monies that
went to their new years eve meal were much appreciated and made their
day special. It was our honor to distribute them on your behalf.

It was easily the most memorable day of our trip.

Our pharmamentarium had one main drug per class (albendazole, amoxicilin, metro, cipro, enalapril, hctz, metformin, asprin, tylenol, ibuprofen, iron, and good old multivitamins) so determining the diagnosis and treatment was ‘simpler’ than you’d think.

One of the days I was even to run a pediatric station more or less by myself with the help of a translator from Creole to French/English.   Most of the care provided at the mobile clinics was on the adult end of the spectrum with organized focuses on diabetes, hypertension, along with any-old medical complaint that people walked in with.

Sure, it was December but “the new” didn’t disappoint and I’m still not over my fascination of the size and magnitude of the bridge which connected ridge-top to ridge-top bypassing a yesteryears 1-hr drive down switchbacks and back up to cross the river gorge.

Come March 16th and I’ll know where I’m matched to!  With many great programs/places/people at towards the top of my list, I’ll be glad and content to go just about anywhere.

Many thanks to the staff and physicians at AMC.  It was an honor to work there for 3-months and I hope it showed.

With spring in the logical future, 2,700 were also itching for warm weather and ran through the Irish neighborhood to give St Patty’s day a warm-up. The bands rocked out at the neighborhood pubs and porches, giving us turn by turn motivation to keep on running.

I think I got into this situation with my two of my life motto’s, “it’s free” and “eh… it’s not going to kill me.” true and true, but I’ve never felt such painful coldness in my life.  Thank you Chicago wind.  “Feels like 8° F” wasn’t sugar-coating it. Great start to the year though — it’s rare to feel such a contrast of life.

The final walkabout on the Lancaster family farm.

Grass-fed beef isn’t the only meat on the table.

Yashica contributions from a week in the desert.

It was simply gorgeous with all of its blues vaulted above.  I’m especially pleased at how this long exposure shot turned out.  No tripod, and an absolute shot in the dark (questionable pun) as for how long to keep the stutter open on the yashica — looks like eight seconds was a close enough guess!

I have little to add or say here; just that once again developing a roll of film yesterday has taken me back in time [to the beach in Haiti].

Not to mention in the last few weeks he’s been a great entertaining distraction from the recent disaster in Haiti.  However, every single night he made a polite reminder to the situation and that what they do at the studio is just funny-business while there is a real world out there that is truly suffering, pointing viewers to stillerstong.org and hopeforhaitinow.org.

I’ve always loved this guy’s comedy and wit, along with his class and perspective on life that has become more and more apparent as his career continues in the public spotlight.  His farewell speech last night was no exception:

“All I ask of you is one thing: please don’t be cynical. I hate cynicism — it’s my least favorite quality and it doesn’t lead anywhere.  Nobody in life gets exactly what they thought they were going to get. But if you work really hard and you’re kind, amazing things will happen.”

Also, watching them play out their last show with Free Bird, in pure performing joy, made me want to dust off that guitar in the corner of the room. There’s just something inherently fulfilling about creating music — if only there was time.

HealthLink on Air will be aired this Sunday at 9 am on 570 WSYR AM radio.  The show is also streamed live at www.570wsyr.com. The interviews will also be available on www.upstate.edu/healthlinkonair

December 29, 2009:

Unloading supplies at the General Hospital.

January 14, 2010:

General Hospital turned into a morgue

Staying aware with the news doesn’t seem to help either, getting only worse and worse, confirming our initial fears and gut reaction to the words “earthquake” and “haiti” in the same text message someone sent us Tuesday afternoon.  Death is everywhere.

Suffering and desperation are adding on too.  The bags of water we bought for 1 Haitian Gourde now cost 15.  People are willing to pull a knife on someone in order to get money to feed their family via the now expensive black market. Seeing this immediate need, Claudel decided to take that experience and be proactive in it — buying food this morning and giving it out to his neighbors.

Accepting our mortality leads to a more fulfilling life, but certainly doesn’t take away the sting of a void when others pass-on.  Frankly, we miss them on so many different levels.  And when an entire people are suffering, it’s not much different.  On a personal level, I try to celebrate and remember the positive attributes and qualities from before the now present depressing situation.

[more photos]

Sigh, if only I could listen to my own words of encouragement better and “do whatever you feel you can or is appropriate — donate money to MSF or UNICEF, reach out to friends who are among the many waiting to contact their family, friends, and loved ones, or simply focus on our studies and work here so that we too can be better prepared to help when future disasters arise.“

I can only imagine the conditions the doctors, nurses, and staff are faced with now.  We met far too many of these incredible people, which we’d call “rock stars” for their intelligence and effort in the face of  the tough conditions they faced each and every day.  Meet just a few:

Supplies are low or non-existent, hours are long, and the need is great.  The recent natural disaster has surely overwhelmed the fragile health care system.  There is no ambulance service, fire department or disaster care that many of us are fortunate to have.  I saw one “ambulance” while there for two weeks, and it was a land cruiser from Doctors Without Borders.   Please consider donating to an NGO such as the IFRC, UNICEF, or MSF. They are already on location and will likely play a crucial role in the rapid response of days to come.

The adjustment didn’t take long though, as I soon shoveled out my driveway and de-iced my car for the drive to the family farm to see my newborn niece.  Also, back once again in Syracuse continuing with classes, study-breaks have a new element of adventure as Chaco pulls her foolish owner on skis.

No cameras are allowed as the center opens to the public for two hours each afternoon, not for tourism, but for help in giving the children something they desperately need, caring contact and attention.  Many, if not most suffered from reactive attachment disorder, couldn’t hold eye contact, etc.  It was striking and unforgettable.

As I approached Rose’s crib, she soon understood what was happening as I helped her to her feet — stretching out her arms.  Soon glued to my chest, she found the plastic flowers hanging from the ceiling to be hilarious as she reached for them, not wanting to let go.  Soon afterwards she was deep asleep, arms occasionally twitching.  And just like that we spent the next two hours, walking slowly around the floor and later finding out the true relief of sitting in a chair when holding a child.

Too soon it was time to leave and I foolishly imagined a perfected and supported transfer of the sleeping Rose back to her crib — such was not the case.  Not even an inch from my now sweated shirt, she awoke from her sleep and instantly cried.  Having no other choice, I had to leave her in her crib, taking only the solace that she had enough energy to muster up an loud and emotional wail.

I learned later that week from a spotty internet connection that on that same Monday my sister was holding a new baby girl of her own, Anya Elizabeth, and too feeling the rise and fall of an other’s chest while breathing.

Suddenly I wanted to be in more that one place at the same time.

I’ve found that most trips have a hallmark unpredicted event that makes everything worth it.  Ours was Dr Olivier Calixte, a young doctor that just completed his residency and was supposed to be taking his vacation before starting his year of service at l’Hopital General in January.  He welcomed us that previous week at the hospital and wanted to come along to our later visits to the orphanages.  Now we had an intelligent Haitian doctor at our side to give kids their checkups, spot some serious cases of malaria and other disease, arranging for their admittance to the hospital.

Once the physicals were completed, out of the suitcase came the pajamas that many donated in holiday spirit back home.

Funny, no one asked at airport security why I was travelling with 67 sets of pajamas, a third of them sporting sponge bob.

Once in St Marc, or the small village outside of it for that matter, we met a childhood friend of Claudy who has since become a doctor in Haiti and uses his salary to run a weekend clinic in their hometown farming village.  This weekend, however, we had free medications to fill a month’s worth of doses, paid for by donations collected prior to our trip.

We saw close to 200 people, assisting him in taking vital signs, measuring blood glucose levels, and learning first-hand the pharmacological treatment of common maladies in the area (ranging from osteoarthritis to hypertension to parasitic infections).  Resources were limited and we soon understood a new framework of assessment and therapy choices when there is no lab, microscope, or x-ray available.

After a long day that ran 3-hours overtime, we swam away the weariness at the beach and enjoyed an impromptu joy ride in a passing fisherman’s boat.

No worries:  big boat + small motor = little chance of capsizing

Most of our suitcases looked like this one, taking advantage of the old 2-checked-bags policy from when we originally purchased our plane tickets.  The generous mass of supplies ranging from surgical kits to gloves was divided and placed directly into the inventory of 6 departments at L’Hopital General: pediatrics, orthopedic surgery, general surgery, anesthesiology,  emergency, and urology.  Thanks to all, for a desperate need was relieved.

Uncle Jackie gave us a good deal, a monstrous akita dog, Mack, to keep us company.  I forgot to let him out one morning and later that day he tore off some of the trim around the door and bit dents into the door knob.  Yikes.  A gentle giant though, even if he always gets his way.

I miss the temperate fresh air from the balcony.  It was always a relief to get some rest up there away from the city (and roosters).

In short, we’ve been staying at an apartment on the mountainside overlooking Port-au-Prince.  Some doctors at the public hospital have been gracious enough to let us round with them this week and see some serious, dire, and desperate states of health.  At the public hospital your bed and physician consult is free. The beds are random, come with or without sheets, and are packed into an open-air hall.  Health-care professionals, about three or four per hall, do their best to round the beds, examine, and move the treatment to the next step.  If a procedure or test is needed, it is the patients or their family’s responsibility to go and get the x-ray, lab results, medication or cast/plaster material from a pharmacy or lab.  There just isn’t the infrastructure or human resources to provide the connections.

Everything medical is bigger here.  People wait until the very last minute to seek care.  Due to lack of education and/or money, voodoo and spiritual reasons are explored first.  We rounded through the emergency, internal medicine, and surgical wards, to see many infections with the only option left being amputation because they were able to progress too far and risk poisoning the entire body.

Aside from that, one says that Haiti is like crazy-glue, once you touch it you’ll always come back.  Today being Christmas, we’ve made the rounds to family house parties, greeted far too many aunts and cousins, and had some thrilling conversations.  Just a few hours ago I met someone who met Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie when they visited Cite de Soleil, the large shanty-town outside of Port au Prince.  Incredible!

With many sights, sounds abound, my favorite hours were spent on top of a friend’s apartment building in mid-town. Checking in at 28 stories, it was a great view up the east river of all three bridges.  The full moon was out and at times I felt like I was in Michael Wolf’s Transparent City exhibit seen earlier this year at the Look3 festival — truly remarkable and to be remembered.

Yesterday Mandy and Ryan stopped in on their transcontinental² bike tour (out and back from San Francisco!)  Check out their work they’ve been doing exploring and connecting different sustainable efforts across the country.

-Photo blogs on my Google Reader such as BBC In Pictures, Gigapica, and the MSF Photo Blog. I stumbled upon the MSF one just this week. Perfect.

-Sitting in airports using free wifi.  Thank you jetBlue.  You’ve made this blog post possible.  Perfect?

Years back, Matt’s dad left the city life and relocated to a houseboat (imagine an RV on the water) on the Saint John swamp/river.   We first drove to the middle of nowhere, but before a swamp bridge we found a restaurant-bar at a landing where “shoes and teeth were optional.”  The gator tasted like any meat would when fried up with bread and oil — not much different than a chicken nugget.

After our gator diner, Rich took us out on his small 8′x10′ pontoon boat (imagine a wooden deck with plastic chairs and an outboard motor on the back) that he keeps parked next to the houseboat.  It was quite dark (note the picture above) but we had a spotlight to catch the red reflections off the gator’s eyes.  The water and marsh was flatter than the plains, with heat-lightning  visible miles off in the distance.  You could see the stars reflecting off of the surface of the water, a new sight.  As we headed back, we spooked a blue heron from the marsh.  The warm evening air on that boat was the best study break I’ve had to date.

Addendum: this trip was made possible in-part by jetBlue. Towards the end of the summer, I heard of jetBlue’s all-you-can-fly pass and just had to partake.  It was a matter of principle, really.   Apparently, many others across the country thought the same and jetBlue soon had to pull their offer from the table after selling it only for a couple of weeks.  Two guys also cashed in on the pass and embarked on spending at least 12 hours in all of the cities that jetBlue flies to.  I checked out their blog today, twelvehoursinacity.com, to see that they had also recently been to central Florida.

For me, it’s been about learning the ear and pitches of 4-part harmony hymns at church, the oldies radio shows on Friday nights while doing chores in the barn.  Goodness, the radio was always on in the barn.  Old and nearly broken amplifiers and tuners from the house would always live out their last days delivering us and the cows the six small town radio stations, two of them country music.

I also worked to keep music operational in our field tractors.  It was a great luxury for the endless hours each summer harvesting the hay.  One had only an FM radio, another an old eight-track player, while only the John Deere had a CD player that I installed — it skipped alot.

My access to the music industry went digital when I left the farm.  For the past five years I’ve worked through many software editions of iTunes, shared music via BitTorrent, and gravitated to the novelty of Pandora internet radio.  Everything and anything is available these days and  in the constant chase and appreciation of something new I forgot and abandoned the old standby of radio.  I haven’t owned one in years [until last night].

It was late evening as I was walking Chaco and found a pile of discarded goods by the road for the morning trash pick-up.  Delighted, one of the finds was an old record player that has a radio and small amp built in.

The reception and sound is excellent.  Sure, there’s no touch screen and it’s not nearly as portable as the iPod that sits next to it, but is equally adored with the metal knobs that don’t turn smoothly from years of dust and rust building up inside.

It’s been bringing in weekend edition on NPR all morning.

Up next is browsing at the flea market for old LPs.

Jon’s video blog updates are quite exciting to watch. Honestly, It’s hard to imagine -40 degree weather without seeing it — and I still can’t quite fathom appreciating it first-hand.  Until then I’ll enjoy watching with the buffer of 10,000 miles and 100 degrees and I hope you do too.

To-do list for upcoming years:

• many many walks and runs
• dog-packing
• skijoring
• bikejoring?
• trips to the emergency room?

Hike=Go  -  Jee=Right  -  Haw=Left  -  Woah=Stop

Years later, I’d built and rebuilt and handful of bikes, undertook a sprint triathlon, and pedaled out a thousand miles cycle-touring.  One weekend this past spring I rode along with pops to Lancaster to sell some old farm equipment and use the money to buy him a new road bike that was lighter, faster, and easier to power up hills — a nice trade for an old sickle-bar mower.

The ride was a treat.  Over sixty riders enjoyed the route, helped each other fix the many flats, and set up and tore down our tent city at each campground in central New York.  The ride was supported, meaning our food and gear was carried alongside in a truck.  Not to mention there was a portable kitchen-in-a-trailer being towed as well to provide satiety.

I’ll remember the views on the ridge coming into Ithaca, my first century ride around Cayuga Lake, teaching my dad to effectively draft and ride in a pack, and the conversations and jokes of many in the group.  Who’s up for joining the next ride in Oregon?

We rode a modified ACA cycling route, shortening it to be completable in three days.  An area fond and familiar to us, it was strikingly new to see it by bike.  Who knew that you dropped so far and fast when coming into Keene?  The hill by Owl’s Head recorded my top speed of the summer for the ol’ touring bike — 46 mph.

The highlight, however, was getting back to my favorite swimming hole.  Spread this one word by mouth; it’s unmarked but well worth the search.  When driving, biking, or walking on Route 73 south of Keene Valley, note the only stone bridge still in service.  walk about 300 feet down the road or in the stream bed until you find some large shaped rocks coursing the water over a swim-behind-able falls, a churning pool, then finally to a deep-deep swimming hole beneath a cliff perch 20-feet above.  I tried swimming to the bottom years ago but abandoned when my ears were about to pop.  Eric described the depth best by the deep, low, bass re-verb sound you hear when hitting the water. Go Jump.

The finishing touch is many cans of spray paint declaring ones gratitude towards a family member, auto salvage store, local business, or beer of choice.  Taunting graphics surface more often than not, but good ol’ humor is usually present on a few cars — this year Scooby-Doo’s mystery machine made an appearance.

Mud, shredded flat tires, and an overheated or seized up engine later, one person gets to take off their snowmobile helmet and claim the top prize of $500.  Admittedly, barely enough to cover the spray paint and gas but certainly worth it.

I caught the end of the dairy show, saw who [with their prize cow] won Grand Champion of the show, then enjoyed an appropriate vanilla milkshake. With so much at the fair being old and familiar memories, it was great to come across something new.  [atleast to me]  Perhaps we were always to involved in the ‘barn party’ on Friday nights, but somehow I’d never been over to listen to or watch the polka band in all of their glory.

Young and old took to the dance floor (slanted pavement next to the grandstand) to dance out the tried, true, and familiar 3-step.  For hours, the crowd never died down or dwindled — many were repeat-attenders to the dance floor for all of their favorites, especially to the tune of ‘Pennsylvania Hills.’

Needless to say, it’s been a pleasant and relaxing change of scene and climate.  We’ve often gone swimming and canoing in the lakes with younger cousins and nephew.  When I do get back on the bike, the  ride on rarely traveled country roads are quite mild and pleasant except for the occasional bug to strike you in the face — something we didn’t have on the coast.

Daily rain bodes well for plant life and despite the intense heat to drive growth the corn still managed to reach “knee-high by July” status. Plus, the blueberries are starting to ripen for their hay-day in August; time to eat up and enjoy garden meals, 0ne of the many perks of late-summer.

No pictures were allowed, but I found some from a press collection online. They happened to be the same ones that struck me as particularily interesting and engaging.  I strongly recommend the exhibit to anyone and everyone.  Never before or anywhere else can you so easily see and be amazed at what lies beneath our skin.

No cameras or phones allowed (we were watched closely by security and pages)  The studio was amazing [built only months ago] with no bad seats and bright with soft blues and art deco wood trim.  The band was solid and the brass players roamed through the audience during the pre-show warmup.

During the show, it was fun to sit back and enjoy the show without commercials, although you couldn’t laugh or comment whenever you wished – we were all part of the production in a way.  During breaks there was a surprising amount of activity and meetings and huddles between Conan, Andy, the producers, managers, head writer, guests, etc.  It all goes towards a consistent comedy production I suppose.  Venus Williams was strikingly tall and beautiful, handling the spotlight well and then serving up and taunting Conan with some of her fast serves while wearing heels nevertheless.

The show’s over and I’ll certainly remember it.  However, It’s time to hit the road and finish this ride.  Two more days.

Not wanting to navigate 50-some-odd-turns from the coast up to Pasadena, we familiarized us with LA’s mediocre metro and rode up into the foothills.  Well worth it, and it later gave us easy access to Hollywood, Michael Jackson’s memorial, and delicious Chinatown restaurants — heh, my fortune was ‘Pursue your wishes aggressively’ and my Chinese lesson of the day was ‘mae yao jeh huan’ meaning ‘still single (not married).’ True true.

Waiting out the day in the theater, I saw a trailer for Where the Wild Things Are that’s bound to lift anyone’s spirits.

“Inside all of us is… Hope.  Inside all of us is… Fear.  Inside all of us is… Adventure.  Inside all of us is… a Wild Thing.”

Being 84-years old doesn’t slow him down much — as he still joined us for a bike ride that morning to show us a shortcut back to the main road.  Each day he still jogs for an hour (and was running marathons back in his 60′s!) soaks in the hot-tub and tends to his backyard livestock.  It was Saturday so we also got the bonus of listening to Prairie Home Companion.

I’ll remember his giddy laugh while biking and his passionate advice to us the night before, telling us to “enjoy life and die young! don’t get old like me!”

Manfred’s trips were too numerous to count, traveling often with his job as a skilled fabricator for Siemens.  He’d biked the coast in the past, but was now on a little adventure retracing the route on his Vespa scooter.  He invited us to eat with him the predictable german breakfast, lunch and/or diner of a hearty bread, meat, mayonaise, and a brew.  Prost!

He had a kind and soft way of engaging in conversation, and was certainly up for spontaneity.  That next morning he followed us into the nearest town on his Vespa to join us for coffee and pastries before we pedaled on in our whole-grain breadbasket landscape next to the ocean.

Once we broke into view of the ocean, winding roads with or without guardrails were the name of the game for about 30 miles.  Sweat going up and then enjoy cool breeze and adrenaline going down.  It took on the rhythm of a roller-coaster ride drawn out for many hours.  Be sure to keep your eyes and tires focused and aimed on the road though.  With the amazing views off (and down) to our right, it was often a challenge.

Halfway through our day and this repetition, we again crossed paths in Lucia with a hitchhiker we’d greeted while climbing the hill that morning.  While eating our cliff-bars and guzzling gatorade, the conversation was intriguing and a refreshing reality check from the land of vacation-ers staying close to their air conditioning and digital cameras.  An expressive hand-talker, he was headed to San Luis Obispo, in no hurry, and certainly enjoying his cup of coffee.

The entry-guard was a friendly older man wearing a state park volunteer cap.  The sites were all taken, but we decided to refill on water before heading on to a private site miles down the road and uphill.  Note: always give yourself these moments of opportunity, because he came over to the water spout and told us of how he thought he could squeeze us it at campsite “7-point-5″ ambiguously next to site 7, whose patron was almost definitely not returning that night.

It did the trick and we stayed to enjoy a large shade tree, reflecting on the different sounds accustomed to the days biking.  For one, I have shifters that I have to adjust every time I change gears (they don’t click into place) so I’m quite a-tune to the sound of the chain rubbing or being cross-pulled.  I also don’t use my iPod much, and when I do it’s only with one ear.  I find listening for the cars to be easier than seeing them, unless it’s a quiet Prius that sneaks up and startles you while rolling through town. (true story)  The surfaces also have their different tones on the tires, from the white gravel pavement, to the blacktop, or even the painted smooth white line if you can ride it steady enough.  Of course, the best sound is none at all when you’re coasting down a steep hill on new smooth blacktop, preferably with a tailwind whipping at your ears.

With animal crackers on hand, I sampled their different jams of tayberries, olallieberries, rasberries, etc.  Skeptical at first, I was pleased to find that they weren’t just all ‘berry’ flavored and had some that I liked more than others.  Some tart, some citrus-like, some sweet.  My favorite was the Tayberry jam.  We then split a small olallieberry pie, perfect touring food.

Back on the road, we talked later how it was a day of smells:

• fishy ocean
• marshy ocean
• cool breeze ocean
• strawberries!

It was cold, windy, and a bit foggy.  Honestly, most of my time was spent trying to get used to handling and hauling around a 100-pound bike for the first time —  It definitely has a unique feel; lets just call it ‘muddy.’  They’re slower to get moving, but once they do, they ride out turns and stops sluggishly smooth.

We turned around half-way across the bridge since we had to back track 5-miles and head south.  In my mind we still biked the entire ‘distance’ of the bridge, right?  After all, a “modest” day was ahead of us in the 50-60 mile range.  Of course this is almost double anything I’d attempted beforehand on any bike, let alone a loaded one.  So it goes.

Assembling our bikes out the box in the Amtrak station in Oakland.  (FYI, they’ll allow you to bring a wheel on-board as a piece of luggage)

We start off with the Golden Gate Bridge tomorrow morning.  Woot.

The route from the Adventure Cycling Association claims highs of 80′s, lows of 60′s, and a prevailing wind at our back.  With little or no rain expected, our only setback should be the heavier summer traffic which we’ll counter with our brightly colored spandex (aka ‘superhero’) jerseys and flashing LEDs.

Blog updates will be intermittent, as we stop in to visit a few hospitable friends and hosts along the way. However, feel free to follow along with the help of Google Latitude and a recent cell phone upgrade which allowed me to set up the following location gadget.

Nerdy-techy, I know, but it’ll give you our approximate location (or atleast where I last powered up my phone) and iconic birds-eye view of what we’re seeing.  Here’s the link: naterr.com/latitude.htm

[note: don't always believe what you see. I have the option of manually setting my location -- so relax if you see that we're jailed in Alcatraz Island, swimming to Hawaii, or tree-hugging in the Redwood Forest up north]

I’ve found my way back many times since my sister first introduced the area to me upon moving here 4-years ago.  The past two weekends have once again treated me to the comforts of ridgeline hikes overlooking the city with the huskies, fry sauce from local burger joints, bouldering in the shade of the canyons, and coffee from multiple neighborhood diners.

The average day always seems to include an assortment of these things, the exception being the 4th of July, when a minor league baseball game and fireworks is added.  The anticipation of the post-game show held us captive against our will as the game went into several extra innings so we…

entertained ourselves with posed portraits

cheered for either of the teams to win, then relocated to the infield

enjoyed boom-booms and flashes while listening to any and every song that had the word “America” in it, “American Woman” included

Amtrak and I roll out of town late tonight, but I’m certain I’ll be back.

The term ‘lake’ was a stretch for the small man-made reservoir.  Regardless, it cooled horses and their riders, provided drive-up beachside service to VW vanagons, vintage flat-bed dodge ram pickups, and old yet reliable corollas.

We too partook in the festivities of sunscreen –> swim –> sundry (repeat every 30 minutes for 3 hours).  Alan Jackson’s greatest hits were provided by the downshore pickup while a puppy or dog would befriend us from upshore. Our best friend, however, was a bottle of sunscreen which amazingly prevented sunburn on yet another 100-plus day.

The morning heat and hills were redeemed by the long multi-mile downhill cruises out of the park in the afternoon.  Although we took up a car and air conditioning the following day for Canyonlands Park, it was redeeming to see the rocky red landscape from the sweat and thirst of a self propelled bike seat.

With days reaching 110-degrees, we welcomed the cool nights interrupted by the occasional sound of a bat chirping. The sun woke us in the morning and was worthy motivation to get moving before the dry heat rolled in. Most nights, the moon and stars were bright enough to cast shadows, except for the final evening when a storm rolled in. Luckily, the clouds only dropped 5-minutes of rain on us and we watched the desert thunderstorm from afar as it passed by to the south.

Rising from the metro commute and walking through the Dept of Agriculture complex, only a short distance remained in our trek when a police car appeared at the ahead intersection. Continuing to walk and talk with no alarm, we were interrupted and suddenly directed in the other direction. Simple and with no explanation, “Go the other way,” was all we heard and promptly obeyed. At the moment it was only one officer and one car with it’s bar lights flashing and I speculated along with the tragic possibilities that it could be a normal security procedure and crowd detail for an arriving VIP or Obama, although it was hard to think of such a person making a showing at the Dept of Ag.

As we back-tracked between the building corridor, still trying to get to our day’s memorial-museum destination, it because more and more apparent that something unexpected had occurred. Our eyes widened with the implications of what could be happening. At one point I tried to find humor and optimism in the face of our inclination to assume the worst as were only hearing honest  and small word fragments from strangers conversations such as “shoot.” It could have been from any context — “oh shoot, I forgot my keys at the hotel” and so on.

Now out of the Ag corridor, we again approached the Holocaust Memorial-Museum, this time from the Mall, to find a larger perimeter established.  Yellow police tape, circling helicopter surveillance, and police were all materializing rapidly.  News trucks with satellite dishes rolled in as reporters crossed the tape line in a fury.  There seemed to be no shortage of incoming media personnel for we tried to eavesdrop on them for a while and then decided to escape the commotion and get the full scoop later.

Indeed, friends and family called in later as we walked on Pennsylvania Ave to see the White House and later sat in a downtown cafe.  Unsure what to think of it then, [and now] we learned that we had been only 2-minutes and/or 500-feet away in our day’s course from the tragic shooting.

One of my favorites was this kanga on display near the entrance of the Museum of African Art.  It was made in Kenya for Obama’s visit in 2008 and a nice touch to an exhibit of both modern and ancient works.

The museum  also won for having the friendliest security guard who offered to show us the pieces that most impressed him, along with offering stories from other passersby — adding candid warmth to a day of shuffling our steps from room to room.

“Absolutely”

I live for spontaneity like this [plus driving through Maryland with all of the windows down].

Most passersby were friendly and willing to retrace their steps down the street for Conrad’s photos.  Some were curious with questions as to who the photos were for and where they’d be published.  Still, some asked questions more interested in making a statement of their own.  “What are you taking pictures of?”  “The UCD organization who recently installed the old-time streetlamps…” “ugh, the lamps are so obnoxiously bright and annoying.”  Yep, a safer and aesthetically lit city street can certainly be obnoxious.

After the shoot we went to see the White Rabbits at a vintage downtown revival venue.  The group definitely has a niche for live performances with their dual drummers and members covering a variety of instruments during and between songs — plus their sound was consistently tight, no small feat for a percussion-based indie rock group of six members.  Loud?  definitely, but well worth it and cleansing in a way of its own.

Studying methods aren’t the only thing that have evolved as I’ve added an interest in pediatrics to my perceived future possibilities.  With free time this summer to shadow area peds docs, I hope to sort out some of my attraction and questions of the specialty. But honestly, that’ll only be part of my summer — for good reason.  I eagerly anticipate travels to those in the east, mountain west, and pacific coast. Judging from this evening’s Atlantic sunset from Cape Cod, I’d say I’m off to an admirable start.

I’m quite excited for the down time and venturing — the unknown road  of new places as well as the comfort of friends has done well for me the past and I hope to see you soon.

Seedlings started a while back when snow was still on the ground.  At first I had aspirations of making a hydroponics setup, but soon resorted to the old standby — dirt.  The stair-step shelving was actually a generations-old find in my grandpa’s old chicken-house.  I was visiting for the weekend and described a window shelf I wanted us to build.  He remembered something of the sort already collecting dust in storage; a nail or two later and it was good to go.

The lettuce and spinach seedlings didn’t survive — probably a lack of watering on my part. With little or no remorse I switched my focus to the surviving peppers and tomatoes which needed more space and light anyhow.  It was spring by this point and the greenhouse properties of my back porch did the trick.

Finally, A weekend purchase of cordless power-tools [excitement] and tomato trellises put the final phase into motion. Recently build windowsill shelving and potted plants now border the porch’s old couches and table.  The sun is abundant and hopefully the greens will be too.  On that note,  please stop by in the fall for tomatoes-a-plenty; there will be far to many for my packed lunches.

Seeing my virtual musings for a five-year span was quite the trip and journey of memories, some standing out more than others.  They say there’s a maximum of how many list items one can truly appreciate, so here are my [hastily chosen] seven select highlights:

• kite festival
• [bi]athlon
• Kiswahili Sign Language
• Nazareth Nightsounds
• Handball
• evolution
• advert

Another [nerdy] integration success was getting my Picasa web albums to display within the site as well.  It wasn’t magic, but did require a smidgin’ of searching to find the bit of javascript to do the trick.

The sun came behind the overcast, making pictures a little dull at the hour. A fortunate event of the morning was a man approaching me after the may pole was wound and braided to inquire of my Yashica D and also share about LightWork and their community darkrooms at SU. Thankfully summer and its free time to explore such opportunities is soon here.

A break from the aforementioned studies was a small weekend road trip out to Rochester to take in an art show. An urban explorer club started Art Awake a few years back to reclaim an abandoned urban space on an annual basis and fill it with a variety of hundreds of artists. It was a pleasant time and much needed fill of the created and imagined; coupled also with a visit to James Brown’s Place — serving bottomless mugs of coffee on linoleum counter-tops edged with aluminum. Perfecto.

Outside the dark buildings was a different story, a much better one. I tightened down my aperture on the Yashica for these streetside oranges. Sadly, most of the summer weather and flora didn’t fly back with me to Syracuse. However, I have been seeing my fair share of orange around town with march-madness.

I’m also growing partial to the B&W film, despite its extra $5 hand processing fee. Getting one frame like this one out of the batch makes the suspense and experimentation all worth it. They’re raw and naked without enhancement, crops, or edits — something I won’t guarantee with any of my other photos.

At one point, the Moorish rule stretched from the banks of the Senegalese river to the rolling olive groves and mountains of the Iberian Peninsula; a vast and varied landscape of religions and government over thousands of years. To this day you can witness the eras through handcrafted stone, wood, metal, and paint.

Beautiful Islamic architecture still stands today in Mezquita of Cordoba. It’s the second largest mosque in the world, although it has been both a church and mosque as a result of conquest and reconquest. It’s a tall and wide labyrinth of pillars, laying out different corners built by their respective rulers and religions.

The Cordoba Mezquita once had a connecting walkway to the Caliph’s palace during a century of rule noted for its religious tolerance between Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. As a result, Prosperity and peace permeated the western Mediterranean. Unfortunately, the eastern reaches of the same sea aren’t as fortunate as protests penetrate communities this week. However, we don’t have to let our choices be stone solid and cold. Instead, let’s look to the past successes of humanity for inspiration and keep on breathing.

On the topic of graffiti process but unrealted to Granada, dais.dk is a superb online gallery of one man’s work. check it.

Nothing is automatic; not even the luxury of a light meter to grace the camera body. In the mix of adjusting shutter speed and aperture I forgot what should be the most intuitive knob of them all and forgot to advance the film, double-exposing my first picture. [shown above] Admittedly, there was a little anxiety with each shutter release. It took instantly at that moment with no computing delay but lacked the instant viewfinder and delete option that we’re accustomed to with digital.

A photoshop-free endeavor, I’ve finally filled developed the first roll. The initial mishaps and quickly forgetting what settings I had used led me to write down the numbers and take a short series to see the effects of different f-stops.

Next up, color film in Spain.

• McDonald’s- it all started with this oddity. for a while we had two of them floating around the farmhouse for my brother and I to wear. It later disappeared into the box of winter things in the pantry.
• Ride- with swim season in the winter, you were prone to pneumonia without one. our coach demanded we wear hats and I bought my first toque of many to come although its current location is unknown and forgotten.
• McDonald’s revisited- one of the toques resurfaced and made it through most of the H.S. as vintage became the sought style. I’m not sure why I brought it along that summer but it’s lost somewhere in Colorado.
  
• Team USA- a thrift-store find from ’84 Olympics. It had 2 or 3 years of amateur competition before retiring somewhere in Goshen.
• VW- an impulse buy on eBay; it’s not worn much but is still with me.
• Smurf Hat- It’s Kaleem’s — and was worn once and only once.
• Mountain Hardwear- A strange but warm lycra hat that worked well for winter and fitting beneath bike helmets before being misplaced in Goshen.
• Steep and Cheap- The once cap I own, bought as a health-code requirement for an impromptu summer job at The Pie Pizzeria in SLC.
• Peruvian- a gift from Mitch’s travels. It’s itchy but warm.
• UPS- rugged and colored classic brown. It was the only part of the work uniform that they let us keep.
• Fighter Pilot Helmet- duct-tape, cardboard, and spray paint.
• EMS- the hat, bought to replace the Mtn Hardware toque, fell out of my pocket while biking in Syracuse — prompting the writing of this post.

In Hebrew, the film remains personal to those involved. Additionally, animation transforms into real analog footage in the closing minutes. The audio later goes silent to enhance the reality of what the director Ari Folman, and now you, has witnessed.

Also worth noting is another film to spur a frenzy of recreational reading of history. [thank you Wikipedia] Months ago someone showed me Machuca, based on and during the elected communist government of Chile. But that’s another story from another time.

His landscapes are usually of the gray northeast seasons, finding and retelling the beauty of the bleak winter, early spring rejuvenation, or the dying necessary to the fall harvest. Trees painted rarely have their leaves; as in the above painting of the Hans Herr House, homestead of our common ancestor. Perhaps his most influential works combined this raw vein of nature with the human story of charged tragedy, remarkably portrayed in Christina’s World.

I was lost reading about the Pol-e Si-o-Seh spanning the Zayandeh River with its thirty-three arches, illuminated with tea houses and sounding of pedestrian traffic. Soon thereafter, Stefan and I had to return our minds to lecture number two of the morning. Thanks Anthon!

News media also brings our shared human experience a little closer. Please, take some time to read and watch CNN, BBC World News, etc. The photos and accounts of the suffering there have risen to the top of headlines. There are also two main news agencies in Israel that report in English. Jpost leans pro-Israel and Haaretz tends to balance the former’s perspective by showing more of the Palestinian and Arab-Israeli story.

It’s my belief and experience that most just want a safe place to raise a family in a safe environment and see their children do the same. We aren’t so different ourselves.

In the past, I’ve often felt set-back internationally when trying to share my beliefs and worldview. I was all to often overshadowed by a reputation that preceded me via short news sound bytes of political leaders, headlines concerning foreign policy endeavors, and even music videos.

With more international conversation and dialogue from our very own president, it is my hope that we’ll have a more positive and considerate reputation of collaboration that precedes us in the years to come.

It was a narrative of heritage, adjustment, hardship, joy, and humor which brought warmth to the late-October night with their honesty. I too am settling into life in Syracuse, welcomed by the local voices that “carry us around the globe and bring us home with a more complete understanding of how the world out there is the world right here.”

It was sent to me this morning from one of my past roommates at 6:47 am. He now beats my morning routine by about 30-min and I’m sure he doesn’t miss my repeated use of the snooze button before step 1.

For those of you looking for cheap international calls to stay in touch with friends around the world, someone told of this one: jajah.com
It uses existing cell and phone lines; calling both phones and then connecting you. It’s a fraction of the cost and sometimes free depending on the paired countries.

Some things just make one happy; perhaps it’s simply the bright colors, the sun, the green grass, the autumn leaves and the blue sky. The only downside was that there wasn’t enough wind to fly the larger house-sized kites. However, it didn’t stop kids from making their own wind by sprinting up and down the field.

The dams are constructed and owned by the nearby villages with the help of MCC. Village water committees take ownership and contribute resources needed for construction. The design of the dams which hold back wet sludgy sand into the dry season originated in Kenya.

Check out more photos of the construction (and Josh’s new puppy).

Munjed’s Middle Eastern Cafe is just up the street in the laid-back Westcott neighborhood niche. It’ll be nice to go there some night for tabouleh and tea, especially once the Westcott Theater reopens later this month. It’s currently being restored to its grandeur and will soon be showing independent and classic films.

My refrigerator is once again stocked with humus and whole olives. Sadly, I’m unable to get fresh pita daily from Afife’s bakery, resorting to stocking up at Wegman’s and freezing it for continued snacking.
Most importantly, I stumbled upon Samir’s Imported Food’s an hour ago, finding a store packed with zataar spices, sopping salty buckets of olives, and arab coffee with the scent of cardamom. Yes my friends, it’s time to get my bling-bling coffee pot from Nazareth down from the shelf.

Instead, I appreciate more now the awe of communicating with body language, novels becoming page turners, empathy causing our hearts to ache, political passion of candidates, and rhythm inclining us to dance. We don’t need to understand the ‘how’ to realize their importance in our lives and get out there and enjoy the day.

The countless thoughtless hours of sipping nescafe on the Nazarene rooftop balcony prepped my mind for the onslaught of knowledge uptake and studying. The days spent on planes and buses throughout Israel and Africa has indeed increased my sitting tolerance. Dave’s sage leaf tea is an excellent evening memory drink. Lastly, even though I haven’t undergone a language switch in weeks, I’m learning daily the vocab and semantics of science, medicine and especially anatomy.

No longer living out of bags and luggage, I reflect quantitatively on the journey…

Goshen house number: 1601
Syracuse house number: 418
days between the two locations: 121

countries lived: 4
languages used: 7

airline miles: 21,847
in-flight movies: 4
the above movies worth watching: 2

nights payed for bed: 0
nights outside: 3
nights in airport: 1

Israeli Shekels in a dollar: 3.2
Tanzanian shillings in a dollar: 1,163
French C.F.A. in a dollar: 444

Afife’s pizza: 6 shekels
chicken and chips: ask Josh. he payed.
cup of cafe tuba: 100 CFA
bottle of Ale-8-One: 0.95 USD

jetta road miles: 5,683
gallons of diesel fuel: 137

hours of med school lectures: 22
days until first exam: 20

cups of coffee: countless

Of course, we stopped at Red Iguana for lunch and later to get my car and meet the huskies. Dirk and I also immersed ourselves in American luxuries such as bluegrass, movie theaters, and desserts. (no more deserts)

There was a little remodeling to the house, but all of the memories were still there. We dug a few up in the evenings or afternoons, certainly not in the morning for that’s when we all sit around and silently eat our bread and Nescafe to get the mind moving. Ca va’s and questions about one’s night sleep are mumbled, but thats about it.

Bebe is still a clinger and all over you. Five minutes into the dot-game and he was already anxious to cheat, somethings don’t change. Petie was in good spirits after getting the highest score in the city on his Baccalaureate diploma. Mama and Pops were certainly in good spirits having guests and family together once again.

We passed the day with a farming family that has taken in Neil and Thomas for the past 6 weeks. No harvesting was to be done so much of the day was spend in the shade of the family compound drinking ataaya and attempting to speak wolof. Malik took us for once last walk (which was also my first) through the patties and extensive canal system which is aiming to make Senegal self-sufficient in rice production by 2015.

After resting in Dakar from the previous days of flights and buses, I took a taxi to Thies to find Jon. His directions were excellent, finding his house on the first try, “across from the empty lot of bricks and stuff.”

Jon, Paul, and I played a rousing game of uno with their host-siblings after dinner that night then retired to another night beneath the mosquito net and fan, two essentials. We woke in the morning for baguettes and coffee before walking 30-min to their work, an air-conditioned office with transcription and translation assignments. We went out mid-day to visit Erin at the hospital where she tested us for malaria.

I’m now in the dorm of a technical university on the outskirts of Thies. My past host-brother, Djibi, is a student here and preparing for his exams in hydro-engineering at the end of the week. We chat during his study breaks, pulling up songs on his iTunes that he loved 2 years ago, impossible to forget from their past repetition. Lifehouse is still one of his favorite groups; perhaps in the same way that I will always like Hootie and the Blowfish.

I met up with Ross and Henry one last time yesterday for a trip to Haifa to sleep, swim, and turn pink from the sun on the Mediterranean shore. They’ve now continued on to Tel Aviv and will be stateside within the week.

Also, it’s a small world when you meet a guest at the Inn who knows Jonny West.

Apparently you can’t spend the night at the Kilimanjaro Airport anymore. It’s quite a small operation and it shuts down to a one security guard staff from 11pm to 4:30am. I learned this from Jane, a security officer during the day. She took pity on my story of the bus and relying on the airport for lodging. After all, I only had 3,500 shillings on my person (just under $3). I just wasn’t the typical tourist with my visit only including the Dodoma region and a 15-hr bus ride earlier that day, far from any safari.

In the end, I was introduced to the night security guard and promised not to tell anyone that you can sleep at the airport. I made a nice bed of seat cushions in the 2nd floor restaurant/bar and soon was camping-in with my sleeping bag and all. The guard kindly woke me at 5 the next morning, smoked a cigarette while I packed up my things, and took me downstairs to the front of the check-in line.

Hamnashida Tanzania.

Early on, they proved to be handy with the cameras, directing their subjects like professional photographers. Jo and I gave the cameras over in full faith and were amazed at the results. We left not only with uplifted spirits, but over 50 photos taken from their eyes. I’ve put many of them in my Tanzania Photo Album.

The headmaster shared a story of his star student making it all the way through the H.S. levels before Tanzanian Gov’t limited his goal of being a doctor and helping deaf children in the country, something not uncommon due to overdoses of malaria medication or untreated ear infections. The student is now one of the school’s multiple deaf teachers, a faculty not many schools in the states can claim.

-”drive thru” shopping, all transactions made through bus windows
-potatoes, corn, citrus, and other goods bought all along the way from villagers
-driving 101: blast horn, rev engine, leave. who makes it back to the bus isn’t your problem
-unlike Dodoma, Tanzania is quite green and lush
-hazy mountain ridge lines behind fields of pineapple, aloe, corn, rice, citrus, and more
-driver’s sticker that reads “better late in this life than early in the next. I love Tanzania”
-a little girl wearing a white dress and princess veil walking on a path between villages
-electricity to villages is not a given
-mud houses and thatched roofs

Like I said, it’s not easy sharing my experience with the Shabiby Bus Company. I will note that I spent all but 10-minutes of the 15 hours sitting on the bus due to the third item on the above list. Getting left behind in a village wasn’t on my list of things to do that day.

Josh gave us a quick summary of the sand dams, designed by a Kenyan who has implemented several successfully there. Placed on rock beds along the river, the wall holds back some water while still allowing it to flow through. As the name suggests, its goal is to hold back soggy sand and silt, keeping the water around longer.

Booked months ago, my flights still exist and I’ll be flying tonight to Tanzania. I’ll make my way inland to Dodoma to stay with Josh for a week. He arrived recently on a three-year committment with MCC.

Thank you, Israel, for the hospitality you’ve shown me for the past months. I will remember you and hope to see you again, God willing.

Until next time.

The gardens scaling Mt Carmel were immaculate thanks to the 170 gardeners that work each night and early morning to beat the heat of the day. Recycled water from the sea flowed gently down a side gutter on all stairs, quelling the sounds of the city.

The sole symbol in the garden design is symmetry. It highlights the over arching theme of equality stressed in the Bahá’í faith.

I’m glad of my choice to settle down and stay in one place for 2 months during my summer travels. I quickly remember and resonate with my thoughts from 2006 on my Senegal Blog:

“… Everything seems ‘normal’ now. Walking the streets, living with my family, communicating in French, greeting everyone and their neighbor with ‘salam alakum,’ eating rice and fish while sitting on the floor, bucket showers, crappy taxis, etc. Whatever has been odd, different, or flat out bizzare in the past is now ‘normal.’ It feels good and I don’t especially want to leave it. In the next two weeks I’ll make my way back in to Western and American culture and likely be reminded about alot of forgotten things and definelty notice things for the first time.”

-July 19, 2006

The other night he made progress, comfortable enough to pose an attack; first when I was shielded behind a cushion and later after I surprised him from behind the door.

We’ve since mastered high fives, complete with “up-high, down-low, on-the-side, too-slow.”

Look down the street from Afife’s pizza and pita bread bakery and you’ll see the fruit and vegetable market. Buckets of olives marinate in their oil. They also have with the best peppers here, bright orange and tasting of sugar. Today’s treat was five fresh tomatoes for 1 shekel, sliced with sugar and balsamic vinegar on top.

A short walk from the market brings you to a basement filled with bags of spices and dry goods. Every color and smell imaginable overwhelms you as you descend the cement steps. I’ve only purchased za’atar and pistachios so far. Place the former in a bowl next to some olive oil. Dip first your pita in the oil, followed by the spice for a tasty bite. Double dipping is allowed.

The era of the automobile moved essentially all business and commerce downhill to main road, Paulus VI, which traverses the city southwest of old city and market quarter. Many non-Nazarenes will complain about the sluggish process of getting through this stretch of road. It is continually consumed by stunning U-turns, parking attempts, and lawless taxis taking up the lanes from bus route stops.

I love it. Add it to the list of things that makes Nazareth “life, not a postcard.” The only improvement would be getting our very own dancing traffic cop like the one Morgan saw in Ramallah (رام الله) last weekend. His fame is spreading beyond the West Bank thanks to his YouTube video.

I think Jon and I should add this to our current dance repertoire of “the mashed potato” and “the pole vault dance.”

We put a free databook online so hikers can print ‘n’ go, without needing a GPS navigator. The turn-by-turn directions and distances along with maps from Google Earth should leave little question as to the path and details of the trail.

You may also remember that a television crew from the Associated Press came a few weeks ago to film a short feature. I saw it for the first time yesterday on canoe.ca, a Québécois news outfit.

This TV coverage plus the multiple articles from the AP reporter, Laurie Copans, has lead to an exciting increase of awareness and interest in the trail. Website traffic is at a whole other level and each day we’re receiving questioning emails from people wanting to come and hike.

I know that promoting the trail is exchanged for a bed to sleep in each night, but the concept of such a trail is something I wholeheartedly support regardless. Trekking through a land to see it’s sites is sustainable and simple, an admirable direction to be taking in tourism.

Shortly after my arrival in Nazareth, she showed me pictures of her family and nephew, now one month old. Unfortunately, I won’t be able to meet the rest of her family at her wedding which is a week after my flight out of Tel Aviv.

I’ve heard that it will be a 3-day event, starting with a day focusing on her being decorated with henna and elaborate dress. The next day is more formal with both families together for food, music, and photos. At night the party begins, continuing through the 3rd day.

I swam in the Great Salt Lake last summer and lets just all agree that it pales in comparison to the Dead Sea. Here, there were no brine flies or shrimp, the water was clear, and unrealistically buoyant. I could point my toes to the bottom of the sea, lift my arms out of the water and still have head and shoulders dry. Swimming is truly effortless.

After our float and rinse, we discussed hitchhiking 12-miles town the road to the base of Masada to be on location at 3am for a sunrise hike. Sitting for a hitch by the bus stop, our plans changed as we were picked up by an Israeli from Argentina, Ariel.

Henry and Ariel instantly connected as Henry has spent 2 years in South America, conversing fluently in Spanish. Ariel took us in at his house on the Ein Gedi Kibbutz botanical gardens, cooked a late night meal of pork and eggs, and showed us to a hike in Wadi Argot the next day. There we hiked one hour up a desert canyon that had water flowing out of the rock from an underground aquifer at the top. Swimming in the cold pools of spring water was a worth contrast to hiking in the desert.

Traveling beyond planned itineraries can be the most rewarding. I’ll never forget how Ariel picked us up that night and invited us to his home. We never once questioned or regretted abandoning our plans to hike and see Masada. Maybe some other time…

As with many old cities in the Middle East, the layers of history up to the current day are very apparent. We explored ruins of a crusader fortress, saw bullet pockets on cement wall from the war of ’48 (at the time 10,000 of the 12,000 inhabitants were Arab), and even a house destroyed by Lebanese rockets 2 years ago. It’s a city that has been governed by multiple religious and political groups in the Golan Heights.

History, politics, and art galleries aside… I remember Zefat mostly by the hospitality of Baba, and plan to return to visit and hike with our friend the “Jewish carpenter” later this summer.

50 kilometers and 7.5 hours in the Israeli sun sounds exhausting and almost impossible to me. However, consider that he’s training for a non-stop Leadville 100-mile run; a race that starts one day and ends the next in the Colorado rockies.

After many years of on the ground research of primary documents and interviews, “hopefully they’ll let me write about anything after this,” he says. Agreed. Until then, I’m trying to digest small bits of the research that he’s been sharing on his AllVoices Blog.

The production crew was great. Over meals and car-rides we heard another side of monumental news events. When asked of his most memorable, Enon quickly replied with filming the opening of the Berlin Wall by helicopter and having the only video camera rolling at Operation Solomon. Also unique were the firsthand accounts and opinions on the multiple conflicts and political struggles in the immediate area of Israel. It is a complex situation with many layers of ethnicity, history, religion, culture, and interests. In a way, coming away from the situation with a sense of confusion is quite healthy.

I took the weekend to visit my cousin Kim and her husband Jonathan who are living now in Jerusalem. After my somewhat regular afternoon siesta, I walked north a bit to the Old City. It’s still walled in and only minimally accessible to vehicles. I entered the Joffa Gate and meandered throught the market streets.

I found my way east to the wailing wall next to the Temple Mount with the Dome of the Rock in the background. Sundown was approaching along with the Sabath so there was much pride, tradition, prayer, singing, and dancing in the area. I stayed for about 2 hours, taking it all in.

Afterwards, I met Kim and Jonathan at an Armenian restaurant. The food and atmosphere was quality as we caught up on each other’s lives since the last mutual family reunion. The dining hall is thought to be from the time of the crusades due to it’s lower elevation in the Old City.

Lastly, Kim drove us up and over to East Jerusalem for a night-time view of the Old and New Jerusalem from the Mount of Olives.

The following morning I toured the Temple Mount area, amazed by the Dome of the Rock Mosque and it’s large paved plaza.

Often I’ve had to do a self-reality-check and ask myself if I’m really here.

A trademark small door within a door provided security during the years of the Ottoman Empire, making you step over a threshold and duck simultaneously, a vulnerable position. Now standing in the center courtyard on the ground floor, you are surrounded by many stone arched storage rooms, now dorms and sitting areas. 40 steps takes you high to the main rooms where three large windows overlook the city downhill. No shortcuts were taken with the high ceilings ornately painted, solid marble floors, and crafted wood trim.

Moaz, the manager of the Inn, is a true collaborator. He has brought together many locals and expats, such as myself, who volunteer in exchange for a room and board. In an unfortunate era of air conditioned bus tours, the Fauzi has helped to revive business and small independent shops in the old city such as the Bride’s Market just down the street, a series of stores selling jewlery, dresses, etc. The old city is truly simple and elegant in this nature of portraying life, not a postcard.

If you’re still curious about the Fauzi Inn, check out their new site. I recommend taking a gander at the Fauzi Azar Story and/or the Gallery.

Before you assume you know what “country music” means, listen to the couple’s favorite artist from the festival, Utah Green. She lists her band members as “myself and anyone else who has a beat in the bottom of their feet.”

That decision moved us on to a morning of bike-run. The midwest in no way prepared me for high winds and hill climbs, but the scenery was amazing. Stuart’s advice for me the night before was to smile and enjoy myself. Best advice ever. I’ll take bike-run in southern Utah over Indiana any day.

We found this coupon behind the cabinets when installing a dishwasher. Sadly, we won’t be able to cash in on Fun Posters and Magic Marker Liquid Crayons for this offer expired in 1977.

With my sleep debt getting paid, the transition week is getting easier. I now have my train line and station info for when I descend in Tel Aviv. On top of logistics, I’m comforted to have been able to connect with my host for the summer, Maoz, as well as come trail and community collaborators, Matt and Gary.

I fly out of Salt Lake this Monday, until then I’ll continue to enjoy jaunts the cool sunny canyons of the Wasatch range as well as city spots from summer ’07. Tonight I’ll finally fulfill my 10-month craving for The Pie.

Yes, spending a week in the wide-open-big-sky-west was a good idea.

-after filling up with biodiesel in IA, waiting to pay for my coffee refill. a stressed traveller asks if they can “talk me into buying them a cup of coffee.” “sure thing”
-eating sandwiches in the parkinglot with Mitch and Amber, a fellow traveler, Terry, strikes up conversation and tells/rambles us details of his life for 20-min, loosely connected around selling dollar burgers with the fixin’s for RAGBRAI
-snowed-in in Ogallala, Nebraska, I watch Bourne Ultimatum yet another time on my laptop and wait for the interstate to open back up
-Kent and Patty welcome me in Laramie Wyoming, along with their boys who challenge me to see how long and far one can hop around the house on one foot
-winding through the rocky mountain pass, snow from the previous storm is aesthetically still in the peaks. arriving in Salt Lake is familiar this time around, no directions needed
-Sarah, Greg and Evie-the-husky, host me for the upcoming week. Greg’s shared love for Bob Dylan inspires me to write and title this post, for coffee has brought me most of the past 1,500 miles.

how to make a soccer partner

just watch the way the kid busts through the door to see his new partner…

today I was driving home from work in the Goshen area when I saw a familiar face. without a doubt, my old ’85 corolla hatchback passed me on Lincoln Ave. a local garage took the dilapidated pile off my hands a year ago for $20, the value of the gas in the tank or something.

i laughed and drove on… remembering some of the places I’d been in that ol’ car.

Already alot of little stories and details about Senegalese life have come out in conversation.

I just walked barefoot around the farm with my dog, Sammy, and we’re having corn on the cob for dinner. Alhumdulilah.

“Floyd Landis, grew up a Mennonite – a Christian community which rejects any influence from the modern world – in Farmersville, Pennsylvania, without television, computers or alcohol.”

Ok, so I’m positive that the BBC got the definition of Mennonite wrong, but he still won the Tour. I’ll keep it quiet while here that I’m one, an American, and two, a Mennonite. It has to be a sore subject right now.

We’re in Deisenheim, a rural, small farming village near the French city of Colmar and also the Swiss and German borders. There is a German influence on the lifestyle and architecture here. We’re staying with Heidi and Paul Lehman, friends of the family.

Its so quiet and peacefull here. We’ve again found the close knit community feel of Senegal that we missed so much in Paris. We play with their kids and enjoy things that we’d forgotten about the past 3 monts, like the taste of fresh milk, brewed coffee, pancakes, eggs cooked without grease, etc.

Its also been an unique language experience. Paul and Heidi live in the same ‘compound’ as his parents, as they’ve held on to their traditional swiss-german. Therefore, the kids are learning Swiss-German, Engish, and French… we’re all jealous.

Tomorrow we head out for a Medieval Castle… the one time period in history that I’m sure I would not want to live in.

I’ll admit, we were in a sorry state by the time we reached our apartment in Paris. I for one, hadn’t slept in over 26 hours and we had just lugged our copious amounts of luggage through the airport, trains, and metro system. so many stairs… so much sweat. We decided to stay in Paris that night and rest up before heading to Nice.

We’ve been getting our meals from the local supermarkets and shops, keeping a list of the cheese that we’ve tried. The streets are extremely clean and quiet in France, a switch from Senegal. Its great to lay out our Senegalese pagnes in the park and enjoy a tomato/cheese/zuchinni sandwich… or even a liter of chocolate ice cream.

Ok, so we’re in Nice now and we got here by a not-so-sleep-friendly night train. Again, were dead tired and spent the first half of our day here sleeping. The Med. sea was a great refresher from carrying around luggage, plus I discovered that I can float again thanks to salt water… it’s been years. Tomorrow we’ll head to Colmar, in the Alsace region.

I love hearing French in public and on the street, not something Senegal was good at thanks to Wolof.

We’ve spent the last few days in Dakar with the whole group as well as some nights with our host families. I am again grateful for their hospitality and their continued invitation to come back whenever. ‘our house is your house. just call and we’ll prepare a room.’ Senegalese hospitality (teranga) is top-knotch and I’ll never forget how it feels to give and recieve it in the future.

Good grief, how does one put closure on 3 months in Africa? What has changed? what have I learned? I sure don’t know quite yet, but I do know one thing… Everything seems ‘normal’ now. Walking the streets, living with my family, communicating in French, greeting everyone and their neighbor with ‘salam alakum,’ eating rice and fish while sitting on the floor, bucket showers, crappy taxis, etc. Whatever has been odd, different, or flat out bizzare in the past is now ‘normal.’ It feels good and I don’t especially want to leave it. In the next two weeks I’ll make my way back in to Western and American culture and likely be reminded about alot of forgotten things and definelty notice things for the first time.

We leave tonight for France where Alex, Alana, Emily, Kate and I will spend a few days each in Nice, Colmar, and Paris. In Nice we’ll be bunking up in Hostels. In the Alsace region we’ll be welcomed by Heidi Lehman (Schamback) and in Paris we are ever so lucky to be apartment sitting for Kates friend. More about France later

We said goodbye to the students and teachers at the horticulture school (although 4 of the girls are still with us at the cyber and afterwards for lunch). I’m not sure if I’m ready for all of the upcoming goodbyes. The fact that my host brother might be studying engineering in Montreal this winter helps ease the goodbyes a little. I’ll definetly cross into the maple leaf state to see him if he does.

thats about all for now, I’ll probably post one last time while in Dakar. after that it’s France!

It was also a relief to see some ‘natural beauty’ for the first time. being an outdoor/camping nut, it was getting a little depressing to constantly see a flat terrain of sand, rocks, garbage, and scum water in Dakar and St Louis. As we went south it became greener and greener. In the villages you hear the birds in the morning instead of traffic and loud senegalese music. By the way, roosters don’t only crow in the morning.

For the most part, I realized that 4 walls and a roof is home, no matter if there is running water or not, thatched or steel roof, concrete or tile, etc.

new experience: sleeping while constantly sweating. When cold, you can always warm up by moving around or getting a blanket. When hot, there is no escape. You’re laying on sweat soaked foam mattress at 1am, already as inactive as you can possibly be with no sheets. What do you do? It’s enough to drive you mad with frustration and helplessness to the heat and fatigue.

after a day of 2 transport buses (cheap but packed to the max) and 2 peugeot 505s, Brad and I returned to St Louis and it honestly felt like home. We knew the fares (much to the dismay of dishonest taxi-drivers) the layout of the city and the language. Add that to the fact that we have beards and we are far from being tourists.

we’ve been doing a whole lot of nothing and hanging out… hopping from village to village visiting people.

Yes, it really is square huts with thatched roofs.

It rained this morning for 10 minutes (rain count: 2) and it wasn’t really that hard of a rain either. However, drainage doesnt exist here and it flooded many roads and walkways around the city. whew… I hope I don’t have to experience a full day of rain here.

My world cup final prediction: Germany vs France (2-1)

Yesterday I took my GPS and marked the coordinates of a few of the places I visit daily. Use Google Earth or Terraserver to look at them via satellite.

He told us about the match that night against the national Senegalese team. It wasn’t far away so we went to check it out. It was an outdoor court by the river. There were 5 games of High School teams, girls and guys, before the big ‘international’ match. It seemed more like a friendly game than cut-throat competition. French players were falling often on the dusty and slippery court… what can you do besides laugh it off?

Towards the end of the match a boy from the stands, probably 14 years old, stood up infront of everybody and started freestyle dancing. Talk about random. Nevertheless, he stole the show as the whole complex started clapping him a rythym and cheering. They even took a timeout for the players to watch.

mmmm… it’s nights like that when I love Senegal.

my blog was broken for 2 weeks, leaving me unable to add posts. nevermind that, James fixed it and we’re back in buisness.

I’m still here in St Louis, and have settled into somewhat of a routine. Brad and I are ‘working’ at a horticulture school in the morning from 8-10ish. (less time if it’s hot… gotta love the hot climate work ethic)

after that it’s naps and staying cool for the afternoon until the world cup games start. By the way, tonight is a big match with France and Spain. Personally, I’m rooting for Germany.

Our proffessors suprised us with a visit yesterday, about a full week earlier than we’d expected. We went out to eat and they visited our homes. We also set up plans to visit the other students in southern villages in Senegal. We’ll embark on that adventure next Thursday and return the following Monday. With 2 full days of travelling in old peugeot taxis, it’s bound to be sketchy… therefore fun.

Yesterday we went with some of the students to sell some of the school’s cauliflower at the market. No one bought it. Heh… there was no demand for it with the natives. If its not rice, cabbage, fish, or onions… it’s not nessesary. They’ll have to take it over the bridge to the island where the Hotels and tourists buy it.

How could I forget? It rained last night… just a little. It knocked the humidity out of the air for a little, giving me a good morning of sleep.

My new host family is awesome. My dad is an agro-engineer and designs irrigation, fertilization, and other sustainable farming techniques. I have 2 high-school age brothers and a 7 year old. Its a switch going from a household of girls to one full of guys.

Luckily our house is in a hamlet of St Louis and gets alot of wind. Add that to a mosquito net and fan and you get some decent nights of sleep.

The world cup started yesterday and there are atleast 2 games everyday from here on out. crazy. everyone watches the coup de monde, including me. I’m really glad that it’s this summer.

in other cooking news, tonight I will attempt to make one of my favorite american meals… pancakes. It will have the senegalese twist of course, with fruit toppings (mango being one sort) instead of maple syrup. haha, wish me luck.

I’m back in Dakar after a weekend in St Louis with the group. It was a worthwhile break from the capitol city and actually our first time seeing ‘non-Dakar’ Senegal. We drove by the houses and school where Brad and I will be spending the next 5 weeks. Honestly, at first it was scary. It was a city nothing like Dakar, where I knew nothing and no one. However, more than a day later I was starting to love the city that is a tenth the size of Dakar. It has much less noise, garbage, and sand (atleast on the Island sections).

We attended jazz performances in the evening while relaxing or touring the city during the day. When I return I hope to get involved in a Hospital, volunteering or something. I learned my lesson too late in Dakar with the deaf school. In the last 2 days that I’ve spent in Dakar, I’ve meet more familiar faces and friends on the street than the previous 5 weeks. Getting involved in essential, and I’m going to make myself do it. Alain assured me of some contacts he’s made for me to look into as far as the Hospital scene goes, which is great.

Other than that, alot of the time this weekend was spent in the air-conditioned, english-speaking, bubble of a bus, but it was time that I would not trade. Much laughter and conversation brought us closer to other students and [gasp]… our ‘adult leaders.’

oh, one more thing… when in a cyber in St Louis, I met an American couple, Jim and Sherri O’Neal, who are travelling around the world in 4×4′s during the next two years… really. They started in the UK, they’re looping around Africa, through Asia, Australia, over to South America and then back ‘home’ to the states. Check out their website at www.taleoftwotravellers.com

After another delicious lunch, sitting on the floor and eating from the same community plate as always, we sat in the living room enjoying small talk, jokes, and ataaya. Meme, our 7-month old sister now sits on her own on the floor infront of us, reaching for toys. she is eager to pick them up, shake them, and smile.

It was in this heat that we were forced to leave the living room to make the 20 minute walk to school for our afternoon lecture. I really didn’t want to go. On the walk, however, I passed a student that I’d met at the deaf school today and yesterday. A familiar face is truly reason for excitement in the city. I know next to no signs as of yet, but I was able to finger-spell some simple french words to communicate. It didnt matter that I was so slow, it was a connection… that meant alot.

We leave tomorrow morning for St. Louis. 6:30am… please wait until I’m rested.

another first for me today… I was offered a ride on a moped by a stranger. unfortunately, the SST safety guidelines and my own knowledge of Dakar’s traffic persuaded me to say no. I talked with the guy for a while though… only to part in disbelief that I had actually turned down my one chance to ride a moped through the lawless traffic of Dakar. so it goes…

Its a shame that I have to leave this city in a week as I am now finally comfortable with it. I can bargain for a “senegalese price” at the market and with the taxis. I’ve aquired a little more appreciation for chebu jenn. I still love mangos.

Perhaps my most unsuspected adaptation as of yet is typing on the French Keyboard. Gone are the days of searching for minutes for the question mark or quotes. Letters and punctuation in different random locations?… not a problem!

the day after I wrote “I’m in good health” I fell hard to the power of an upset stomach. nothing settled well yesterday, although after a little ‘maintenance,’ my stomach started over without a problem after two sprites.

Its our last weekend in Dakar since next weekend the group will be taking a weekend trip to St Louis, a northern city in Senegal. the following week we’ll split up for our service assignments, where I’ll also be going to St Louis along with Brad… working at a vetrinary/horticulture school.

we’ve been having lectures lately on womens issues, politics, and environmental concerns in Senegal. There are some things to be admired and some to hope for change. For example, Senegal’s president is more like a king and rules over the prime minister. Many think that he will postpone the next election so that he can finish rebuilding an elaborate major coastal road, the corniche. He’s spending money on his legacy, not the real needs of the Country. Once you’ve seen other governments, you appreciate the stability and checks and balances that are present in our constitution.

another thing, I’ll be honest in saying that things aren’t always ‘hunky dorey’ here in Senegal. Some of the events in the past few days have sent me on a little of a rollercoaster. I won’t speak of them here (online), but I have done alot of thinking, talking with others, and journaling.

humorously, alot of us have had instances where we’ve turned locals’, mostly children, world upside down. It sometimes happens when we greet kids in wolof (naga deff)… they stand there with a blank and confused look for a minute. I think the same thing happened today as a bunch of us started using the little wooden sticks, think a big toothpick that costs 25 CFA, to clean our teeth after eating.

I am in good health.

I love the weekends. after spending time this morning with the family, we’re headed back to the beach to get rocked by the waves. mmmm

I just uploaded more pictures onto the photo album so check ‘em out. There are also more photos on the GC SST updates.

salut.

Other than that, I’ve been able to live here in the moment, in Senegal, in Dakar with both feet planted in the culture here. There have been a few times where I’ve had to email about ‘buisness,’ like getting a job next year at the hospital or how to return my keys to GC without getting a fine. Not bad I think. Other than that my communication is mostly one-way, via this blog. Thanks for reading it and supporting me.

Its getting humid here in the cyber and there are many pre-teen boys playing a silly RPG called ‘Tibia.’ It gets a little loud and obnoxious at times but since they speak mostly in wolof its easy to block it out. I get a little humor and satisfaction when fathers come in and pull their sons away from the computer by their arms. another popular computer game here is ‘need for speed III.’ It funny to remember playing that same exact game when I was 13… getting called to stop playing and eat dinner.

Why do tourists come? Goree was the last stop for most of the slaves headed to the americas. During the slave trade it was controlled by many nations, the Dutch, Portugese, French, and English. In the morning we had a tour of the Isle including a slave house where slaves were held while waiting for the boats to take them across the Island. It was sureal to stand in the same rooms where so many people were packed in as beasts and animals. We also walked up to the ‘door of no return’ where a plank would connect the building to the boat.

Despite the significance of the events on the Isle, by the end of the afternoon, the haggling, bargaining, and annoying merchants soon blotted much of the experience from my mind. After bargaining for 30min in french and wolof, I had a few paintings, a few less CFA and less memories and comprehension of meaning behind the morning’s tours.

I guess its the reality of it. I shouldn’t expect myself to comprehend the millions of slaves that passed through the Island. It is sure to take time and reflection… much longer than a day’s worth.

That reminds me, the other week I saw a scooter gang. yes, a scooter gang. For some reason motorcycles are far less popular here than scooters. However, the scooters look like ‘street bikes,’ ‘krotch rockets,’ or ‘rice burners,’ whichever term you prefer. In short, they’re fancy looking street cycles except you have a place for your feet in front of you. Ok, back to the scooter gang… I saw them ride bye in a pack and later on my walk they had blocked off a section of road that I usually walk on (it has no speed bumps) and were racing and pulling wheelies… on scooters.

In the past few days we have frequented the beach a few times during lunch or when class is canceled. you have to be flexible with time and schedules in Senegal and if it means random trips to the ocean for big waves, sun, sand and boogie boards, I’m all about it.

In an hour we’re going back for our second session on the Jembe (traditional hand-drum) and dancing. At first it was difficult to strike the drum and get the 3 different tones, but after a little practice, it came.

In the evening I like to ‘hang out’ in the kitchen with my host mom, practicing french and learning about senegalese cooking and ingredients. Last night she said she was going to cook ‘eggs and spaghetti.’ I said I was very curious to see this since we only eat spaghetti with meat and tomatoes in the states. I thought that maybe the eggs were incorporated into a sort of sauce… but no. it was much simpler. We cooked the spaghetti, fried some eggs and onions (with a some other seasonings), and at the end she said ‘regarde’ (look) as she put the eggs on top of the spaghetti. We had a chuckle as to how simple it turned out to be.

I found out about my placement for the last 6 weeks of the term while on ‘service.’ I’ll be living in St Louis, a northern coastal city of Senegal. I’ll be working, along with Brad Graber, at a Veterinary/Horticulture school. We’ll live with separate families. I’m excited to have a city worth of entertainment at our disposal, let alone one known for their music. Maybe then at the school I can hone in on my french speaking skills as I round up and care for animals like I did while growing up on a farm (thanks Mom and Dad). I’m pretty sure I’ll help break some American stereotypes as I get dirty and actually have knowledge of animal care.

The group here is great. We enjoy our small numbers and have been a great support for each other… mainly by playing hackey-sack.

The atmosphere was great and relaxing with many little tables scattered in an indoor/outdoor/courtyard facility. (remember that the weather is always nice here) There sound was quality as they rapped some songs in French, Wolof, and maybe one or two in English. They had regae roots in there music and for one song they abandonned the mixer as the lead singer donned an electic guitar for a cover of ‘no woman, no cry.’ It was 3 for 3 for me and late nights as we returned to our house afterwards at 3am… again. Luckily, Wolof class was canceled this morning.

http://www.daara-j.fr.fm/

last night we went to a huge dance party… numbering in the hundreds. I never thought that I’d enjoy rap music or even dance to it. I was wrong. They played a mix of american rap and senegalese rap/pop. The nice thing about the senegalese dance scene is that anything goes. there is no structure, you just do your own thing. you improv the entire time, usually in a little circle of people, occasionally mirroring each others new moves or stepping into the center for a brief ‘solo.’ tips? keep your knees and heels moving.

my siblings (ages 10 and 14) don’t have school and they are content to spent every minute with us… and i mean every minute. this is where it gets tricky. I soon run out of ways to entertain them and want desperately to read or journal. if you start to read or write, they’ll be over your shoulder. if you’re relaxing in your room they’ll be there going through your stuff. its been difficult to accept their different understanding of possesions. they are very communal and will pick up anything and check it out without asking. personal time and space are also treated in the same way.

This morning I went jogging while the weather of the day is still relatively ‘cool.’ Its been a good day with my host family, simply spending time with each other on the weekend.

I’m feeling more and more comfortable now. I’m no longer frustrated with the presence of sand everywhere (I wonder what they would think about our childhood sandboxes) or the inevitable stares from everyone that you pass since I am a ‘tubob.’ (wolof for white person) but yeah… I have more cultural commentary but I’ll save it for when I return to the states.

There is no need for a weather forecast here. Every day and night has been the same: dry, clear sky and sun, with a refreshing ocean wind. A t-shirt will get you anywhere, anytime. Also, pants aren’t all that bad (the muslim culture ‘requires’ them.

a demain.

today was the first day of class and surprisingly, it was a great feeling to get back into the classroom and learn. we had 2 hours of wolof this morning and 2 hours of Senegambian history in the afternoon. We go home from noon to 3pm to eat lunch with our families. Its the ‘main meal’ of the day. (the quotes are in honor of jon c)

So much happens each day that I could never come close to writing, especially on this keyboard. I’m getting used to it though. Tomorrow I hope to use the really nice cyber cafe.

I am living with Omar Gaye and his family. they couldnt find enough host families in the area so Eric Bixer and I are together.

I will keep it short by saying that the it is definetly “half- speed” here in Senegal. I like it. You walk slow and meander throughout the streets. There aren’t many, if any, traffic laws or signs. it is truly “rules of the road” as beeps, flashing your headlights, and speed bumps control the traffic.

all of the buildings are made of concrete/cement… and I mean everything. it makes sense since the area has alot of sand and quarrys.

I don’t have my camera with me so I cannot upload any pictures. However, there are many on the Goshen SST page so check them out. (The link is above)

avoir.

p.s. for kicks I will rewrite the first sentence of the blog as if I was using an English Keyboard so you can understand how hard it is to type:
let ,e stqrt by sqying thqt the keyboqrds qre very different here qnd it is tqking ,e tzo ,inutes to type this snetence

Naturally, my thoughts shifted towards some advice given to me a week or two ago, “You’re never really there in another country/culture if you still have one foot back in the States.”

This shouldn’t be much of a problem as I am excited about the upcoming travel and meeting new people. At the moment, saying goodbye to ‘home’ wasn’t all that monumental… except for the fact that we arrived at the train station with only 2 minutes to spare.

An hour at an internet-cafe in Dakar costs between 500-1,000 CFA (approx $1). I see myself taking time to journal there about once a week to share my experience. However, I want to keep myself somewhat separated from the culture I know across the Atlantic, not letting emailing and blogging interfere with the limited time that I have overseas. Most journaling will be off-line, handwritten, in a composition book.

I appreciate greatly every comment and email given so far. I read every single one of your encouraging words. I need them as they are a staple in my food for thought.

Thanks again and here’s to the summer!
[raises imaginary glass for a toast]

anyhow, I made it home with a liter of mountain dew, and 3 coffees. one of the coffees was free at 4am. thank you flying J! the trip also had some interesting events including hitting morning traffic in buffalo while in the middle of a caffiene buzz/nutrition withdrawl. to solve this i drank alot of my nalgene water and ate chex mix. 10 minutes later i was in the middle of nowhere between Buffalo and Rochester and had the need to stop like no other… coffee is a diuretic, therefore bold coffee is a bold diuretic thankfully, i made it. it was a looooong 24 miles.

due to my french prep for senegal (leaving in 5 days) i had a revelation of what the quebec license plates mean. it involved some grammar from one of our recent chapters. “Je me souviens” means “I remember.” speaking of french, the final exam was awful… o well. its over and i’m looking forward to speaking the language for over 3 months. I’m much better at speaking it than taking a frivolous 14 page exam.

I think i’m going to finish reading “into the wild” tonight, by jon krakauer. good book… read it.

I’m not used to seeing the wind-turbines (each 260ft in the air) scattered around the “home-land.” they’re monsterous. the sight of clean energy is magnificant and beautiful.

edit: clearly, the wind-farm and lloyds are only some of the reasons why i love upstate ny.

you could go the entire day and night without worry about the temperature, just chilling in a t-shit and pants day and night. at times it got hot and sweaty but we welcomed it. the red river gorge area has huge rock all over. may locations ranging in 5.8-5.12 which was perfect for our group. i learned how to lead sport climb and clean. its good stuff. before i used to just top rope in the adirondacks since their are solid tree anchors at every single route and no bolted climbs.

(click on the picture to go to a photo album of the trip)

anyhow… we took in the experience, including a stay at a one room cabin w/ no running water, electricty or even latch on the door. you can’t argue with free though. the cabin was on a ridge that over looked mirror valley and beatiful dogwood trees coming into bloom.

we’d stop every now and then a miguels, the climber hang-out of red river. a small ‘pizza shop’ that caters to the climbing community by selling gear, a cheap $2 campground outback complete with a free pavilion/outdoor kitchen area and basketball hoop. the dining area is small and furnished with school bus seats and plywood tables. no matter… a local glass bottled beverage, ale 8, hits the spot for 75 cents.

i have 3 more days of finals in Goshen before going home for a few days before leaving for senegal next tuesday. don’t wait to do a paper until the day that it is due… bad choice.

“go liver go!”
“penn state sucks”
“yeeaaahhhhh!”
“i’m slapping my face…”
’twas a happy b-day for joel

i’m pretty sure that it will stay that way.

“man… those were the days. the days when soda-pop was 65 cents, the girls wore glitter, and an old navy opened nearby.”

this water-gun assassination game is literally changing my daily life and habits. i was going to list some of my defensive strategy, but i wouldn’t want to give myself away.

Goshen ER time: 98 hours down, 22 to go.

sean shared a quality thought-provoking film w/ me the other day. it is based off the words and speeches given by Arundhati Roy, writer of “The God of Small Things” and 2004 Sydney Peace Prize winner. here is the link to it on Google Video: “We”- Arundhati Roy
it will play in the browser. download it if you want a better resolution.

it got me thinking about race and how strange it is. it doesn’t exist in the physical sense, only in our minds. what brought out these thoughts were the images of the nationalism in the mid-century and how people in one country actually believed without a doubt that they were better than another group of people living on a different plot of land. the same is true today with the added misfortune that many think america is “God’s chosen nation.” in the film religious superiority is also looked at via the lens of the arab/israeli conflict.

we were a nation founded on the principle of separation of church and state, and it is what set us apart from europe in the 1700′s. by now the tables have turned as we are criticized by europe and the world for our dangerous meddling of religion and politics. by now all i can do is hope for a spectacular change of events at the next presidential election. hopefully the Bush crusade doesn’t invade anymore countries before then.

I always spell recieved wrong. i know i know… i before e except after c. my brain just can’t get it. speaking of spelling, i remember being told in kindergarden that every word has a vowel in it. it was only a few minutes before we wondered about the word “my.” apparently the letter “y” is a vowel poser from time to time.

numbers:
3 weeks left of class
30 days until senegal
94 percent of senegal is muslim
46 years of senegal independence from France
48 percent unemployment rate in senegal

so much to do between now and then…

yessir, back home in lewis county (“the LC”) we ride snowmobiles everywhere…

i want to discover the little pockets of culture like this around the world.

lookey lookey…
red nose studio

today was match day for med school graduates and their upcoming 4 year residency placement. my sister got her top choice matched at the university of utah. sweeeet. we’re all excited about the upcoming trips out west.

here are some more dissapointing news articles discovered today while using the east hall bathroom…
BBC News: US backs first-strike attack plan
BBC News: US launches major Iraq offensive

all of this when “Bush has his lowest Gallup Poll approval rating of 36%,” “Most Americans say Bush has no clear plan for Iraq,” and “protestants and frequent churchgoers most supportive of Iraq war”

1,041 days until Bush leaves office… his damage to our foreign policy and international reputation is beyond measure.

wait just a second…

perhaps this is what happens after spending over 6 hours studying and cranking out chem calculations plus research notecards. i cant wait for an upcoming diner breakfast in 8 hrs. meanwhile, i’ll sleep.

hi jason. i have a story to tell you.

we had some major lightning storms last night, including a tornado watch. they rolled through last evening and early this morning from 3-7am…. what a sight. Its been a while since I’ve experienced a storm of such magnitude. the map above is taken from around 6am this morning with the squares representing lightning strikes. Goshen is buried in there, basically in the middle of it.

today was really nice outside. it is also a great buyer. super fast payment. A+++++++++++++++

today we drove south on 15 to go to the 20th century restaurant. it was closed so we drove another mile to the small town of milford. after wandering (in our cars) for a few streets, we found their downtown and two pizzarias. they had only 2 storefronts in between them and we wondered “which one is better?” we chose the one on the left. we walked in the door only to find a dim, dark, and smokey room with a table full of people staring at us for a minute. no waitresses came to us, there was no real place to order, and the people kept staring. we left. it was by far the worst dining establishment i have even been to in my life, and i think it will have no problem maintaining that status.

the other pizzaria was better, and I’d eat there again in the future. plus their pressure-cooked chicken meal was a good deal.

hair will never get in the way of my right eye.

Shrimp Gunning
-choose a bay on the pacific
-go in the morning during low-tide
-find millions of little holes where the shrimp have burrowed
-take a big PVC pipe syringe and suck up the sand/water/shrimp and blast it out.
-pick up the confused shrimp that is usually then laying in the sand
-use this live bait for fishing

-going to a nickle arcade north of chicago
-flying with southwest, efficiency at its best
-the warmth of “the valley” in oregon
-seeing the pacific for the first time in newport
-eating famous clam chowder at the original moe’s
-grilling burgers and dews at our yurt on the coast
-”shrimp-gunning” shrimp at low tide in the morning
-hiking three miles of washed out trails and elk trails and wading two in the drift creek
-baiting the hook with live shrimp and casting in a mountain creek
-not catching any fish
-getting an hour long migraine and vomitting in the drugstore parkinglot
-geocaching along the coast, we dropped of mike
-visiting small holeinthewall record/music stores in cravalis and evanston
-watching loser trying to complain his way out of not paying at china-buffet
-being in the liberal-land of eugene oregon
-watching “the constant gardener”
-playing settlers cities and knights, balderdash beyond, and torres with dirk’s family
-tubing in the cascade mountains
-eating quality hungarian food at novak’s
-visiting powell’s city of books in portland, the largest independent bookstore in the world (seriously)
-eating southern indian food in chicago with kaleem’s family, so many new and delicious vegetarian flavors

this is his debut seven piece gallery:

yesterday i had the worst of migranes. it made me attempt to vommit, which did nothing. laying down only made it worse so i propped myself up in a chair and tried to get some sleep. an hour and a half later, it was gone. suddenly “normal” was the best feeling in the world.

kulp will be a mighty fine place next year.

i can’t wait for senegal this summer.

#501 (11/16/01) $350 to the Glease for a sweet guitar
#525 (2/16/06) $250 to Goshen College for an SST deposit

over half of these checks have been to Goshen College… ever singing.

oh, in regards to the previous post… it was something that happened during my day and obviously an unforgetable experience. i didn’t really know how to or want to say anything more about it, except that it’s something to be taken in stride and is expected to happen from time to time. it’s life.

(someone died in the ER)

after watching the track meet for an hour or two, paying special attention to the pole vaulting, dirk and i were inspired to have a good ol’ footrace back to the dorms from the rec-fit. dirk won because he touched the connector first.

the coolest people i know right now are the RN’s at the ER. they’re a riot.

i love pistachios.

bagels and cream cheese are an especially good “new york” snack for me, geographically. i think thats part of the reason why i like them as i live out my days in michiana. many know the new york bagel connection, refering to the many fine bakeries in NYC. however, its the cream cheese that brings it even more home to me. lowville, not NYC is where i grew up and it happens to be home to a large kraft plant where they make virtually all of the philidelphia cream cheese that you and i eat. in school on career day, kraft workers would always bring snacks and free samples of cream cheese. mmmmm.

our cows used to contribute to the philidelphia cream cheese effort, but two years ago their milk started going to, you guessed it, new york city.

i am part of this. i am working towards becoming a superhuman. today was a boost in my powers as i gained lifelong immunity to polio and typhoid. there isn’t a vaccination that i don’t have to take for going to Africa this april-july. malaria medication side-effects are humorous. i love weighing the pros/cons. for 4 months of medicine i can:

lariam- pay $160 for a weekly pill that will give me night tremors, visual disturbances, and “vivid dreams.” woo hoo. i’m staying clear of this one. i had terrible fever dreams as a kid and i would hate to have them return. after getting the intro-dream when falling asleep, you knew it was coming but had no power to stop it. soon you would be running around the kitchen table which provided a temporary fix to the not-breathing dilema you were under. you see… air and water had switched roles and you could no longer breath air. at the same time you were afraid to breath water since it was such a strange thing to do. only under prompting from your mother would you “breath” a cold glass of water. “here, drink this. all of it!”

doxycycline- pay a mere $25 and risk “sun sensitivity, not just to people with fair complexions.” judging that i’m pretty safe from the other risk of getting a yeast infection and that i’m screwed as it is when it comes to sunburn, i think this is my preferred choice. hmmm… take it daily and don’t lay down for the following hour to prevent reflux.

malarone- pay a whopping $470 for a daily pill that only has the traditional abdominal pain, nausea, etc.

ahhh… the choices.

p.s. the days of movie viewing difficulty are over at naterr.com

a “cache” is a small container hidden somewhere. it can vary in size from a film case to a bucket. inside is a log sheet and if the cache is big enough, random items that you can add and swap out and put in other caches that you find. you get the coordinates from the website, geocaching.com, and keep track of the ones that you visited. the people who placed the caches maintain them, make sure they’re actually there, and check your log on the paper to validate your online stats.

i’m proud to say that we disregard standard campus-life activities like floor or roommate dates. well, we also don’t really get asked… haha. riding miles around town in a bicycle gang was priceless. sure… we were basically invisible to traffic and scared a few people while searching around in bushes with our flashlights in the pouring rain. at the end of the night we had found 2 caches. we tried for a 3rd but got off track in the treasure hunt’s clues. by then we had been in the rain for two hours, in a cemetery for half of that time, and had a scared neighbor of the graveyard threatening us and our cult/gang activities. we fled the scene… on bikes.

this afternoon we found two more, one at the millrace and another easy one at a graveyard 2 miles south of town. the GPS unit gets you to the appoximate area, usually within 20-30 feet. from there you have to use brute force and look everywhere, like an easter egg hunt. sunday afternoon we’re going back for the one we missed last night, being sure not to spook the neighbors.

a conversation with my sister that took place today, january 16:
Me- hi marj
Marj-I’m sure that you are aware of why I’m not in school today.
Me- MLK day!
Marj- Good job! This is a Goshen holiday too..
Me- yep, and we dont have class
Marj- Hoooray!

*marj and i holding up something very heavy… really.

i try to live with the policy of dropping all personal plans when it comes to friends and family. this past sunday was priceless. despite the upcoming 12 hour drive i had to goshen that night, i ignored my human limitations (sleep) and took my cousins skating at the rink in town.

her face lit up as she tried skating for the first time. we rounded the rink together, me going backwards “towing” her with both hands. it had to be my favorite moment of break. i love to skate and later she was out on her own, proud that she learned to both ski and skate that weekend.

i’m so glad i said no to packing/napping for the trip back to goshen and instead went for a skate in the park.

three cheers!!!

theres tons of snow on the ground and nicely placed in the trees. its beautiful and i love it.

the next few weeks should include caroling, christmas, homecooked food, winter camping, numerous visits with old friends, snowmobiling (after i fix it), and other “winter wonderland” stuff.

enjoy the day.

janelle, don’t fail me now.

… i’m in a new york state of mind

fox and geese
-A large wagon wheel shape (20 to 30 feet across) is made by stamping down the snow.
-The “fox” starts in the middle and the “geese” on the outside circle of the wheel.
-Players can only run on the spokes or outside circle of the wheel.
-The geese try and make it to the middles of the wheel.
-The fox tries tag the geese, and protect the middle of the wheel.
-If a goose gets tagged, they are out of the game.
-The first goose to make it to the middle gets to be the fox for the next round.
-If the fox gets all the geese, they get to be fox again.

hmmm… we should try it in the labrynth sometime

when i don’t get a window seat on the train i usually spent all but an hour or two up in the club car. i even sleep there. its not the greatest but its better than an aisle seat back in coach. its so boring back there. theres always people chatting, reading papers, and being more social up in the club car.

anyhow… thats my little bit about the journey with amtrak.

its snowing here at home and i’m taking it all in.

my roommate just shared another interesting site with me. its called toXpose.nl. Its a site where innovative, and experimental photography is “tested” and shared. an interesting one was “eXpose eXchange.” some takes a picture at half exposure and then sends the film to a photographer in a different part of the world. they then take another picture, double exposing the film. you get some sweet contrasts and results. you can find it under forums.

These two contributing photographers are from brazil and canada.
step back and think. this sort of thing is all ordinary and common if you use photoshop, but they didn’t! its all film. now thats real skill that I admire.

congrats go out to those who were in much ado. it was a great show and a style of theater that i never would have dreamed of.

I have always mused over the family connection to Herr’s Potato Chips (now Herr’s Snack Foods). My grandfather’s 1st cousin started the whole thing, Jim Herr. Anyhow, I have no special benefits, I never get free chips or anything… although I did tour the factory one time just as any average tourist can. Why not throw myself into the dynasty and legend of Lancaster snack foods? I too can be up there with Good’s Potato chips (made from real lard) martin’s pretzls, and wilbur buds (a hershey kiss-like chocolate).

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granted, I don’t have the perfect tan like Ed. what about the smile?…
I prefer the in-your-face “just eat the chips!” look.
call it a new and improved marketing strategy

haha, maybe adcock and i will land some assistant coaching positions. that would rock.

man, i wish someone would put bible stories literally into context with legos.
oh wait… someone has!
The Brick Testament

and while we’re playing the link game….
Pop-Mennonite art gallery
Its an unique art gallery. use the “next page” button on the top to advance through the gallery.

yes, i still listen to Hootie and the Blowfish. why wouldn’t i?
let her cry… not even the trees… i’m going home

The mustached man steps out of the Popcorn Shop in Chagrin Falls, clutching a cup of frozen yogurt. His eyes scan passersby. He’s looking for that stare of recognition, that sideways glance of familiarity. But no one seems to track him as he walks back toward his car. He climbs in and sets the rest of his frozen dessert onto the passenger seat, next to the oil paints he bought at the art store earlier. A hint of a smile appears. Another successful day of anonymity.

Then the man notices the large 4X4 truck parked in front of him. There it is — that mocking decal, stuck on the back window. It’s Calvin, urinating on a Ford logo, grinning with gleeful malice.

The man’s smile disappears. “My boy,” he mutters ruefully. “Oh, my boy.”

its safe to say that the rest of my day (until now atleast) did not include studying. i unscrewed, spliced, cut, taped, bought, rewired, etc. the Macintosh Classic. It is now running OS X with a killer interactive desktop boasting a real, live fish.

ok, so there’s no fish installed yet, but i’ll buy one on monday. the beta fish at walmart were near dead and the real pet stores were closed by 4pm.

oh, the original powerswitch operates the tank backlight and the disk drive glows red

he’s one of those guys who are always at the rec-center like they don’t have much else to do. bearded and a pony-tail pulled back, with one eye going off in its own direction. it was amazing how open and honest this stranger was. from his story i figured he’s in his mid-40s. he lived in africa from ages 6-16 in Zaire with his missionary parents, had a bad car accident down there which took the life of two of his siblings. his wife just passed away two years ago from cerebal palsy, and he’s living at greencroft… helping serve free meals on his free time.

and here i thought he was just another “rec-center junkie.”

wow

the other day at kroger i was smelling all the different coffee and came across an immaculate flavor and aroma. taken aback by the sensation, i failed to notice the words “whole beans” on the bag. upon arriving back at the house, i immediately opened the bag, anxious to brew a cup of coffee in my brew ‘n’ go.

the cup of coffee had to wait. i was surprised by the sight of the beans, laughing at the 2nd glance at the beans and the this time thorough look at the package label.

later that night i aquired a coffee grinder at wal-mart. mmmmm… its so stinkin’ good and fresh.

a wind-electric project began construction this past summer in my hometown, boasting 190 massive 300ft windmills. thats no amish windmill.

theres one built already on our topmost plot of farmland. amazing… beautiful.

the first one up.

my sister marj and i and the wind blades assembled on the ground

the home farm i grew up on with a new skyline, already boasting 13 clean energy windmills

ah, the polluted air of northern indiana.

mowing the lawn, mulching flower beds, fixing and riding bikes, having fried eggs for breakfast, clothes that smell different because they were dried outside on a washline, milking cows, church services, gardening, grilling homegrown steak, driving ambulance for the local volunteer crew, sleeping in a quiet room…

these are a few of my favorite things.

i head up to camp tomorrow to start my 11-week inquiry/internship program at beaver camp via goshen college. it looks to be a great summer of old classics returning to staff, new programming, and a new role for me to fit in to.

enjoy your summer, i hope to post intermittenly with the week’s happenings.

“Busni-tech has always made me feel like I’m right.  Even if I don’t have a question about their laminated wall panels, I call them up.  “You’re wife thinks that you don’t like her cooking?  Don’t worry about it, Jim.  We know that you don’t.  You’re always right, after all.”  It’s conversations like these, with Busni-tech, that make me feel at home as a satisfied customer.”- Jim

aside from what Jim has to say, i feel relieved that i passed my Indiana State EMT skills practical  yesterday. no room for error on that thing.  whew…

it is pretty boring out here in the Goshen area now that College is out. I’m only days away from a summer in NNY.  save me quick so i don’t make up any more fake infomercials.

muah ha ha. xanga is going to be much more fun now.

i can apply simple source codes that i’m learning.

so… if you didnt already know, you can use HTML source codes in these xanga entry windows. take that “premium”! i dont need your shortcut buttons that cost money if i know the codes myself!

sorry, i should change the eprops into “nerd points” or something. enjoy the day.

i’ll admit it. i was wrong. for little reason at all, i’ve been a promoter of the route by umble when walking to the ‘rot. heres a breakdown of the 3 main routes. i measured the distances with a GPS unit, starting that the north entrance of Kratz and Ending at the doorway to the ‘rot.

the all sidewalk route: here you go between umble and wyse, taking brick and sidewalk all the way to the ‘rot. this distance is 354 meters.

mostly sidewalk route: here you cross the tracks, walk through the commuter parking lot, cross the lawn on the east end of the science hall and then walk the sidewalk parallel to the science hall and then down to the ‘rot. if you’re a “no walking on grass person” then you can walk the south side of the building and cross on the brick pathway instead. either way, this distance is 329 meters.

the yard route: when theres not much snow, you take the above route except you cut across the yard instead of walking along the science center. its a well and established pathway, tracking down the grass and snow. this distance is 323 meters.

we assume that also walking across the new kratz/miller yard would be the ultimate shortest route. however, there is no established path through the snow and its usually wet territory in other seasons. in the meantime, stick to the science center route and dare to cross the yard. it’ll get you too the delicious ‘rot up to 22 seconds faster than fools like me walking by umble. (assuming that we both walk at 3.3 miles per hour)

feel free to be stuborn and stick to your current path. or, you can convert like i did.

“Clip the head, neck, ears, tail, and udder (cows and springing heifers only). Other parts of the animal can be clipped on an “as-needed” basis. Clip the front and rear legs so as to have the appearance of greater flatness of bone and to remove stains. Trim toplines to improve straightness. Clip the withers to a sharp point to improve angularity. Body clipping is acceptable, especially when the body hair is excessively long. Do not clip the belly and udder of heifers that have not calved and are not springing.

Most people start clipping with the head. Clip the entire head and neck as short as possible. This is accomplished by clipping against the hair. Leave the whiskers on the nose because this makes the muzzle appear wider. Clip the inside and outside of the ears. Blend the neck and shoulders by clipping in the direction the hair runs. Start at the point of shoulder, and clip upward to the top of the shoulder blade. Use the clippers to make the point of withers as sharp as possible.

Clipping the tail and tailhead area is easier, and some people prefer to start here. Clip the tail from a point about 4 inches above the hairs on the switch. Clip against the hair on the tail until you reach the tailhead. Blend the longer hair and close-clipped area at the point where the tail lies over the pinbones. You can blend the clipper lines by clipping with the hair. Don’t clip all the hair off the topline. If the topline is not level, clip the high areas and blend these into the lower sections of the topline.”

and of course a pic… (also from the site. if i was home, i’d be able to find some of my own action.)

i hope you enjoyed the agricultural enlightenment!

(i saved my favorite one for last)

How do we know that Adam and Eve were Mennonite?
Who else would be with a naked woman and be tempted by a piece of fruit?

What happens if you take one Mennonite fishing?
He drinks all your beer.

What happens if you take two Mennonites fishing?
They don’t drink any of your beer.

What’s a significant ethical Mennonite dilemma?
Free beer.

What’s the difference between a Mennonite girl and Alaska?
About 3 degrees.

What’s the difference between a Mennonite boy and a rock?
The rock moves faster.

What’s the shortest book in the world?
Mennonite war heroes.

How many Mennonites does it take to change a light bulb?
Seve – one to actualy change the bulb and six to complain that they liked the old one better.

How many Mennonites does it take to change a light bulb?
Who said anything about change?

Why don’t Mennonites make love standing up?
They’re afraid it might lead to dancing.

sometimes the transition into reality comes quick. being involved in EMT ambulance service, i once overhead radio transmissions of a cardiac arrest. gripping… definetly, but i found out a day later that the transmissions were about the mother of a co-worker at a christian summer camp. i was shocked and even caried guilt that i’d witnessed such an event, albeit via radio.

although i don’t understand “the world” or “war,” i do know that the life that i live for christ should never involve such a judgement upon another as death.

random and unorganized…. i’m off to eat “midnight breakfast” at the ‘rot.

anyhow, deeper thoughts are surfacing here in K305

enjoy the day…

live on, i’m definetly going back to that tubing run in 2 weeks.