what seemed myself

almost home

2010-03-06T12:53:00.000-08:00

I am sorry I haven't written sooner, the internet didn't work well in Santo Domingo.

The Portuguese dinner was an overwhelming success. We had tuna salad to start off with and champagne sangria. Then- a creamy potato soup, catfish with potatoes and hard boiled eggs, and salad (safe salad is a rarity and tastes so good). For dessert we had moist brownies with a fresh mango mouse. The tenor in the house changed. It felt like a celebration. From the time we got there, we never saw Pat and Vivian relax. They seemed exhausted and overwhelmed. Dan and I wondered with all they do, who takes care of them? Vivian knows the names of all the kids in the camp- as well as 3 orphanages. She gets so personally invested and it shows. Sister Mary on the other hand seems invigorated, ready to tackle a challenge. But tonight, finally it was different. The problems all seemed to melt away with the rain beating down outside as we feasted with the caretakers and finally heard laughter among them.

After dinner, I showed Vivian the progress of the store room and how I arranged the art work. We talked about my last day there and how I helped her receive new art pieces. One piece- a wooden drummer- is identical to one Dan bought our last day. It's sister piece is now missing the arm that was outstretched in the air- ready to beat. It makes it even more special that we saw the piece come in, so Dan bought it, and I a gift for my niece. I think it helped to sell some art, and see the potential for it to be cleaned up. I hope she sets the store back up before her and Pat leave at the end of the month. The art shop is just as much her baby as the kids in the camp and I hope she gets to see it healthy again. Maybe I will come back sometime after she's gone and help Sister Mary organize the shop.

We sat talking around the table after we gave Pat, Viv, and Sister Mary the money we brought. They were in high spirits and we were getting sentimental about leaving. Dan and I tried to ask them questions about other things- their grandkids at home, their kids, and it seemed to help for a while.

Later, Vivian told me a story from right after the earthquake. Food was scarce, so she wanted to bring the hundred kids from camp- 4 or 5 at a time, into the house for peanut butter, bread, and juice she had. The kids all lined up in a straight line outside, but then started crying. An amputation had been performed on the kitchen table days earlier. The kids were sure- if they were getting food it would mean they would lose a leg as well. Vivian laughed at first but then stopped and very seriously said- but they all stayed. Wouldn't you run away if you thought someone would cut off your leg? The kids did what they were told. And all stood and waited in single file line.

That's the Haiti I know.

In the morning we got up at 6am, having spent another night in the pouring rain. That will be the norm now- torrential rains and mud. We hugged and kissed Pat and Vivian, then climbed into the van with Sister Mary. She spent an hour driving us around the heart of the city.

Some buildings have stacked up, like a resting accordion. Others look like they've gone soft, leaning or bending over. Some look like a grenade exploded inside- with holes missing. But what surprised me the most, were the many many buildings that are now just piles of rubble. Almost dust. I can't imagine how anyone survived.

But all around the piles of dust, life does go on for the living. In the plaza outside the presidential palace- it looks like a war zone. Tents in every open place and rows of porta potties. All around the country's greatest monuments and buildings, life is in suspense. People are just standing mostly, needing to be told what to do. There is so much money going in, but seemingly little organization of people on a large scale. Just hundreds of thousands of lives in waiting.

I hugged sister Mary 3 times before leaving. This year is her 60th jubilee- 60th year since entering the convent. And oh, what she's seen. Pat and Vivian end their 3 years in Haiti at the end of the month- and Matthew 25 will go on for the volunteers within it, and few thousand living next to it.

We're back now, but leaving a piece of ourselves at Delmas 33 with 3 year old Francois who held our hands when ever he saw us, Darline- the 20 year old med student who has seen too much in her short life, Mita- a little girl who lost her leg above her knee but who never stops smiling, Souvenir- using music to help his patients, the Portuguese medical team, the sanitation volunteers at SOIL, Pat, Viv, and 78 year old Sister Mary- the toughest woman I have ever met with a heart of gold.

Every night at Matthew 25 we sing a prayer in creole before dinner. We call it the manje song. It says- "this food you give to us oh father, it is the food of life." After holding hands and singing, we would bow our heads and Sister Mary would pray- giving thanks.

Not one night while we were in Haiti this trip did Sister Mary pray after the song. I will leave you to speculate why. Maybe they gave so much thanks to be alive after the quake, that they used it up for a while. Maybe it means nothing at all. Or maybe, for those living and struggling in Haiti- they haven't quite figured out what to say to God yet.

But outside in the camp Haitians raise their voice in song every morning and every night. Their pact isn't with the devil. They're just stronger than we will ever be.

gummy bears

2010-03-04T15:32:00.000-08:00

Today was a good day, despite the intense rain storms of last night. I didn't sleep much, so decided to sleep through breakfast. When I woke up I walked around until I found Daniel cleaning some plastic chairs. He had asked Eileen- the nurse in charge of the clinic- if we could watch. We brought the chairs over to the clinic and sat beside Darline, a 20 year old med student. Darline was doing intake alone, so she explained to us how to do everything. We even learned how to take blood pressure. She showed me a few times, then sent us around- I took blood pressure and temperatures and Dan would help me and write it all down. Darline checked my work at first until she was sure I was doing it correctly, but I still did everything 2 and 3 times to be sure.

A few people were hypertensive, but the majority in that area just needed someone to tell them nothing was wrong. I heard someone say that many in the camp seem to be depressed or have emotional trauma so they go to the Dr not really knowing what's wrong. I think sometimes it helps to just have the clumbsy blanc (white) fuss around on your arm and then assure you you're OK before the real Drs see them. While we did blood pressure, darline would ask about symptoms and the Elieen and another med student- Noze Souvenir- dressed bandages for the amputees and more seriously injured.

We worked all morning and I got good at blood pressure. We saw 40 patients. We then brought the staff some water and rested a bit. Then we tackled that back room again. Cleaning it out was a nightmare but really really useful. The room had been destroyed during the quake (I mean the contents a mess- not the structure) and no one had time to g through it. So cleaning it- we found all kinds of things that will be useful- reading classes and soap for the clinic- useable art work to sell in Matthew 25. I think cleaning the house is when it really began to hit us that we were there. Less than 2 months ago I was raiding Vivian's little art store. And now, the beautiful art lay in piles covered in dust under piles of junk. So we cleaned it up as best as we could and Sister Mary seems very pleased. She says it looks like a different house, and as modestly as possible I can tell you it does. I think with the shock finally wearing off- we stood on the roof for a while, in the place where our room had been.

After, we went back out to the tent city to see Souvenir do physical therapy. Souvenir speaks English well and told me his story: he was a good soccer player growing up and won a scholarship to go to school. That was necessary because his mother is a maid and there are 6 kids. Because of his schooling- he learned English and Spanish too. Because of his English, he was able to find the woman who ran the medical school. He was able to get her cell phone number and called and texted her every day for weeks until she agreed to see him. He went to the school the next day at 8 am but she didn't come out to see him until 3 pm. She then gave him a test and said he could come to school if he passed. He got an 80 percent and started med school. That was 3 years ago. He now has 2 years left ( a few months and then residency) but his mother's boss died in the earthquake so there is no more money for school. He won't be able to continue unless he can find someone to sponsor him the 100 dollars (US) a month until he finishes. Anyway. I got all his information incase anyone can think of a way to help. His classes resume next week, but as of right now, this 23 year old boy who volunteers every day in the tent city- won't be able to afford to go.

Souvenir called me over to the tent with the most injured. A little girl with a missing leg called me over ("K-tee K-tee!") I played with her and her friend a bit, then watched Souvenir lead a woman (missing one leg, and with only a half a foot on her remaining leg) around the basketball court. She hoped with the walker, on her own, the entire way. Talk about strength. Then Eileen walked us around the neighborhood and I gave out gummy bears I brought- one at a time. It's simply indescribable to see a child cherish a single gummy bear. They licked and sucked on them so long- and they'd smile with the bright colors between their teeth.

Tonight we give Matthew 25 the money we brought, hug our friends again, and prepare to leave in the morning.

But first- the Portuguese medical team has prepared us a traditional dinner.

Bon dormee, amies (sleep well, friends).

a deep breath

2010-03-02T18:15:00.000-08:00

There's already so much to say and my little thumbs can't type so quickly on my phone.

We'll start with the morning. Franz- the manager of our hotel in SD had told us to catch a taxi at 8am because buses to Port Au Prince left at 9am. But Franz wasn't there in the morning and we were running a bit behind. the important thing is that despite the traffic we purchased a couple of the last tickets- just 10 minutes before 9 am. With our boxes safe in the bottom of the bus, we settled in 2 seats in the air conditioned bus.

About 5 or 6 hours into the trip we made it to the border. All the Haitian passengers were given their passports (taken when you bought tickets) but they kept the foreign passports. No one could really explain what was happening, but it seemed as though we stopped on the Dominican side, reentered the bus to go through the heavily guarded gate, and then got re stamped on the Haitian side. Of course the Haitian side is immediately different- with 10 xs the amount of people selling at the side of the road. I dozed off for a while and when I woke began to see flattened buildings and cities made of tents. We made a good canadian friend named Roger on the bus- he informed us the bus was actually going to Petionville, not Port Au Prince. We didn't really know how to tell Pat and Viv to come get us- so in broken french, we got a taxi, and were on our way to our street- delmas 33.

The driver brought along an english speaking friend. We may hire them again to take us around the city. The english speaker- jude- asked us if we thought haiti would be different after the earthquake. Dan smiled and said "well, life goes on doesn't it?" Jude said "for some, not for others. I lost my wife, my home, and now sleep in the streets."

We got gas and continued to drive by piles of rubble. We rounded one corner just absolutely filled with a mob of kids- sort of lined up, sort of yelling. There was a man in uniform who seemed to be giving some plates of food. But I can't imagine they were all fed.

We made it safely within the gates of Matthew 25- boxes and all. I ran inside and saw Patrick and gave him a big hug. Next I hugged Viv and whispered to her that I brought chocolate and she gave out a little Cape Code squeal of appreciation. Next in line was Sister Mary who said, "well look who the cat dragged in, at least we know all the dishes will get done." And I hugged her too- those good long hugs that seem most genuine after lengths of time apart. Vivian was making dinner for the hospital tent next door with Eileen- the sort of overseer of the medical efforts there and a nurse. After dinner she went out to dress more wounds.

We set up our tent before it became too dark. We are near the place where our friend Ellie made a little marker to a leg she buried there.

The upstairs where we slept before is destroyed, and Pat said it manually was brought down, piece by piece for fear the remaining structure would topple on to the tent city in the soccer field below. Viv's art gallery is filled with boxes, tents, and at the moment- some Portuguese aid workers who are working with the UN and who gave me the best mango I have ever tasted. They are interviewing this amazing young man who makes little health videos, complete with song- about hand washing and malnutrition.

After I finished the dinner dishes I went into the tent city to watch a showing of the hand washing video. Hundreds of kids were huddled around the make shift projector screen in the dark- singing along. It was an amazing sight.

I guess what I want to say most of all, is that I am not overwhelmed. It just all seems about right. I don't want that to feel crass and of course most things aren't alright here, but I mean more our place in it. It just feels like when I heard about the earthquake I had the wind knocked out of me, and I have been waiting to take a deep breath. But being here, it just feels like even if I am just smiling at the kids who are watching the video and chasing the stupid dog, I don't feel useless anymore and I can breathe. And it's beautiful to see this little community taking care of eachother. If you think of all of Haiti it seems unbearable, but when you think of this neighborhood, coming together and taking care of eachother it seems bearable that life goes on. And coming in and out of this community are french, bulgarians, Portuguese, Americans, and Canadians, bartering with each other to help the community at large. And even if is just in those 3 boxes- Santa Clara, Santa Rosa, San Diego, and Seattle has sent us love and money to make our own tiny impact. And it really does help if even to lighten the spirits of the real heros living here and doing the real work. I feel strangely at home and happy. I am so happy to just wash the dishes and listen to the kids singing outside and drink my 7up in a bottle.

Sister Mary was delighted with everything we brought. She immediately hid the dish soap and shampoo- with so many people coming in and out to help, it's hard to keep track of things. She said it felt like christmas- looking over the old bed sheets and tooth brushes we brought, and I never had quite so much joy in giving anything I don't think. But instantly you think of all the things you didn't bring. I mean- anything would help.
Our few days here won't be long enough, but believe it or not, despite the manual and emotional work we will endure- I think we will finally breathe easy and leave with a renewed faith in humanity.

home

2010-03-02T15:07:00.000-08:00

Safe in matthew 25. More later

bus to PAP

2010-03-02T07:36:00.000-08:00

On safely at 9 am. The bus is very nice and air conditioned. No birds on my lap this time.

Will write more in Haiti!

santo domingo

2010-03-01T07:30:00.000-08:00

We arrived late last night and slept through buses leaving for Haiti this morning, so now we have a day to rest which we are grateful for. But let me back up a bit.

I can't really believe we've traveled all this way with 3 50 lb boxes. This is only made possible by the kindness we've met all along the way. It sorta reaffirms to me that we're supposed to be on this journey- because strangers seem to be making it possible.

In the San Francisco airport, we tried to check in outside with our ridiculous boxes, but couldn't because we were traveling internationally. But we were close to the 45 minute before flight-time cut-off. Some this man called his friend inside on this cell phone- they grabbed our passports and checked us in- bypassing everyone. They then stood and helped us weigh and redistribute weight in our boxes and tape them up.

Then again in Santo Domingo- people everywhere are helping us carry our boxes- in the airport, to the taxi, in the hotel.

Our layover in Miami was long so we cabbed into South Beach. What a scene. It's like Jersey Shore geriatrics. But we got to see the Sharks part 2 beat the USA hockey team. And pay 20 dollars for drinks that were bigger than we wanted.

Our little hotel has hot water and air conditioning. It's heaven. It will be quite a change tomorrow!

Now we sit at a restaurant outside in the city center. We're in a square with an old cathedral (dan says chris columbus's son layed the first brick in 1514- Sr Francis Drake destroyed the inside in 1580-something), pigeons, ancient trees with giant trunks, art, and musicians. It would be the perfect picture if it weren't for the hundreds of European tourists. It's insane. They're everywhere.

That's something else that will change tomorrow.

Til then.

when you're awake at 4 am...

2010-02-28T05:15:00.000-08:00

You look around on the road and wonder why the heck any one else is awake. What could possibly be so important? Well for us- it's at 6:30 am flight to the Dominican Republic. It's go time.

We packed 3 huge cardboard boxes with supplies until midnight or later. We have t get there early to figure out what to do with them. They may be too heavy. My Dad is taking us- and particularly chipper. He'll end up with the left over pounds for Good Will. Our first adventure, I am sure.

I hope we catch the hockey game during our layover!

the fare's been paid

2010-02-10T20:25:00.000-08:00

Back to Port Au Prince for Spring break.

We fly into Santo Domingo, and bus over. The countdown has begun.

new update from Matthew 25

2010-01-24T23:09:00.001-08:00

CURRENT SITUATION AT MATTHEW 25 HOUSE

MATTHEW 25 HOUSE EXPERIENCED MODERATE DAMAGE DURING THE EARTHQUAKE. THE SECOND FLOOR IS UNUSABLE. THE FIRST FLOOR APPEARS PRETTY STABLE AND WE ARE TRYING TO GET IT AN ASSESSMENT BY AN ENGINEER. WE WERE ALL INSIDE AT THE TIME AND ALL ESCAPED INJURY

WE ARE ALL SLEEPING OUTSIDE DUE TO MANY AFTERSHOCKS, 54 OF WHICH WERE 5.0 OR HIGHER ; AND THE FEAR THAT THE TOP FLOOR COULD COLLAPSE. ALL STAFF ARE SLEEPING IN TENTS IN THE BACKYARD, AND WE ARE REQUIRING ALL VISITORS TO BRING TENTS AND SLEEPING BAGS, AND FOOD. WE ARE ABLE TO PURCHASE ENOUGH FOOD TO FEED OUR GUESTS AND STAFF. WATER IS NOT A PROBLEM AT THE HOUSE.

WE HAVE ADEQUATE MEDICAL SUPPLIES AS THEY HAVE STARTED TO COME THROUGH, FINALLY. IN FACT, WE ARE ABLE TO GIVE SOME TO OTHER FACILITIES THAT ARE LACKING.

WE ARE OPERATING A FIELD HOSPITAL IN THE ADJACENT SOCCER FIELD AS WELL AS A TENT CITY ORGANIZED BY THE NEIGHBORHOOD LEADERS. THERE ARE ABOUT 1300 SLEEPING IN THE FIELD AND ANOTHER FIELD TWO HOUSES AWAY.

FOUR SURGERIES WERE DONE ON OUR KITCHEN TABLE WITH MINIMUM ANESTHESIA, INCLUDING AN AMPUTATION.

WE THOUGHT THINGS WERE SLOWING AND THAT WE WERE GOING TO BE DOING WOUND CARE, FOLLOW UP, AND POST OP, BUT THEY KEEP COMING, PROBABLY BECAUSE WORD HAS GOTTEN OUT THAT THERE IS GOOD CARE HERE.

MANY PHYSICIANS, NURSES, DISASTER RELIEF PERSONNEL, U.S. JOURNALISTS, COORDINATORS, ETC., ARE PASSING THROUGH OUR HOUSE, SOME STAYING TO HELP IN OUR FIELD HOSPITAL, SOME TO USE OUR INTERNET FACILITIES. WE ARE ONE OF THE FEW GUEST HOUSES FUNCTIONING, AND WE HAVE POWER (GENERATOR) AND A FUEL SUPPLY. WE SPENT MUCH OF OUR DAY FERRYING PATIENTS FROM OUR FIELD HOSPITAL TO LOCAL FIELD HOSPITALS SET UP BY THE FRENCH, ISRAELIS, BRAZILIANS, RUSSIANS, BELGIANS, ETC., AS SOME HAVE X RAY, SOME NEUROSURGEONS, SOME ORTHOPEDIC SURGEONS, ETC.

TO ALL THOSE THAT HAVE EMAILED AND CALLED WITH PRAYERS, FINANCIAL SUPPORT, SUPPLIES, OFFERS OF HELP, A GREAT BIG THANK YOU! OUR VOLUNTEER DOCTORS ALONG WITH OUR HAITIAN DOCTORS FROM THE COMMUNITY AND COMMUNITY LEADERS SUPERVISED BY OUR EMPLOYEE AND LOYAL FRIEND THEIL HAVE MADE A TREMENDOUS POSITIVE IMPACT ON THIS COMMUNITY. LIVES HAVE BEEN SAVED, AND IMMEASURABLE SUFFERING RELEIVED, IN A TIME WHEN ALL OF THE PEOPLE OF HAITI HAVE ENDURED SO MUCH ANGUISH AND PAIN. EVERYONE WE TALK TO HAVE LOST LOVED ONES AND FRIENDS. MAY YOU CONTINUE TO BE A GREAT FRIEND OF HAITI, DOING GOD'S WORK HOWEVER YOU SEE FIT TO DO IT.

THANK YOU,
PATRICK
MATTHEW 25 HOUSE STAFF

STAY TUNED

Don't believe Haiti is marked by violence...

2010-01-19T15:15:00.000-08:00

This is written by Sasha Kramer - she
is the co-founder of SOIL (www.oursoil.org) - a group based out of Cap
Haitian whose normal mission is protecting soil resources, empowering
communities and transforming wastes into resources in Haiti.
She and several staff members have
taken supplies down to Port au Prince and are trying to put their
working vehicle to good use in the devastated city.

Subject: Kouraj cherie: Update from Port au Prince

January 19, 2010

This afternoon, feeling helpless, we decided to take a van down to
Champs Mars (the area around the palace) to look for people needing
medical care to bring to Matthew 25, the guesthouse where we are
staying which has been transformed into a field hospital. Since we
arrived in Port au Prince everyone has told us that you cannot go into
the area around the palace because of violence and insecurity. I was
in awe as we walked into downtown, among the flattened buildings , in
the shadow of the fallen palace, amongst the swarms of displaced
people there was calm and solidarity. We wound our way through the
camp asking for injured people who needed to get to the hospital.
Despite everyone telling us that as soon as we did this we would be
mobbed by people, I was amazed as we approached each tent people
gently pointed us towards their neighbors, guiding us to those who
were suffering the most. We picked up 5 badly injured people and
drove towards an area where Ellie and Berto had passed a woman
earlier. When they saw her she was lying on the side of the road with
a broken leg screaming for help, as they were on foot they could not
help her at the time so we went back to try to find her. Incredibly
we found her relatively quickly at the top of a hill of shattered
houses. The sun was setting and the community helped to carry her
down the hill on a refrigerator door, tough looking guys smiled in our
direction calling out “bonswa Cherie” and “kouraj”.

When we got back to Matthew 25 it was dark and we carried the patients
back into the soccer field/tent village/hospital where the team of
doctors had been working tirelessly all day. Although they had
officially closed down for the evening, they agreed to see the
patients we had brought. Once our patients were settled in we came
back into the house to find the doctors amputating a foot on the
dining room table. The patient lay calmly, awake but far away under
the fog of ketamine. Half way through the surgery we heard a clamor
outside and ran out to see what it was. A large yellow truck was
parked in front of the gate and rapidly unloading hundreds of bags of
food over our fence, the hungry crowd had already begun to gather and
in the dark it was hard to decide how to best distribute the food.
Knowing that we could not sleep in the house with all of this food and
so many starving people in the neighborhood, our friend Amber (who is
experienced in food distribution) snapped into action and began to get
everyone in the crowd into a line that stretched down the road. We
braced ourselves for the fighting that we had heard would come but in
a miraculous display of restraint and compassion people lined up to
get the food and one by one the bags were handed out without a single
serious incident.

During the food distribution the doctors called to see if anyone could
help to bury the amputated leg in the backyard. As I have no
experience with food distribution I offered to help with the leg. I
went into the back with Ellie and Berto and we dug a hole and placed
the leg in it, covering it with soil and cement rubble. By the time
we got back into the house the food had all been distributed and the
patient Anderson was waking up. The doctors asked for a translator so
I went and sat by his stretcher explaining to him that the surgery had
gone well and he was going to live. His family had gone home so he
was alone so Ellie and I took turns sitting with him as he came out
from under the drugs. I sat and talked to Anderson for hours as he
drifted in and out of consciousness. At one point one of the Haitian
men working at the hospital came in and leaned over Anderson and said
to him in kreyol “listen man even if your family could not be here
tonight we want you to know that everyone here loves you, we are all
your brothers and sisters”. Cat and I have barely shed a tear through
all of this, the sky could fall and we would not bat an eye, but when
I told her this story this morning the tears just began rolling down
her face, as they are mine as I am writing this. Sometimes it is the
kindness and not the horror that can break the numbness that we are
all lost in right now.

So, don’t believe Anderson Cooper when he says that Haiti is a hotbed
for violence and riots, it is just not the case. In the darkest of
times, Haiti has proven to be a country of brave, resilient and kind
people and it is that behavior that is far more prevalent than the
isolated incidents of violence. Please pass this on to as many people
as you can so that they can see the light of Haiti, cutting through
the darkness, the light that will heal this nation.

We are safe. We love you all and I will write again when I can.
Thank you for your generosity and compassion.

With love from Port au Prince,
Sasha

More Updates from Sister Mary- courtesy of her niece

2010-01-18T21:21:00.000-08:00

Sent: Friday, January 15, 2010 5:05 AM
Subject: Re: call

I heard planes coming and going through the night. Our main problem outside of all the human suffering is getting fuel for the generator and car. Our inverters are good but as there is no electricity we need the diesel. We had another tremor last night. I don't even have to feel it because the more than 1300 peolpe living in our soccer field sing out to God, asking a blessing on them...so Haitian and so heartbreaking. We got a new supply of basic meds and I think will be a staging center for a Mash like team of MDs. We are in such need of surgeons and our strongest meds for pain is Ibuprohen! Jo money is really the best as I am spending a lot buying meds,food and supplies. You can ask people to make the checks out to Matthew 25 House and I sent the address to one of the family. Prayers for all of us for strngth sure helps. I am holding my own, despite the frequent wet kisses of our "guard dog" as I slept on outside. I have a body guard of young men who make sure my hand is held as I go in out and around the soccer field. These young men have done a phenomenal job in organizing the help we at MH25 are giving to this area.
IContribute to groups collecting clothes another need but a big group effort to send them would be necessary because of the fuel and truck problems.
There will probably be folks saying they or someone they know can get to us, but it could well be a scam as so many buildings are gone and no business is happening. Love you all and all you are doing for me

Sent: Sun, January 17, 2010 12:07:34 PM
Subject: Sister Mary Speaks Out!

Hi All,
This is an e-mail I just received from my Aunt, Sister Mary Finnick, who is a missionary in Haiti, she lives a few miles from the airport in POP, 33 Del mas. I know we have many Washington faces in the Commonwealth this weekend, please feel free to share her thoughts with them.

Bill just tell anyone you know how frustratingly angry your aunt is knowing supplies are at the airport but because of the inept coordination of the UN and US, there has been no one to tell the gas station operators to give out gas so folks can get out of the city. I have read the most foolish reasons for this and many are so untrue as I do believe the reason for this is to make the Haitian people look as awful as possible because so little has arrived. I know it sounds like a conspiracy but I honestly don't know why MDs from Belgian arrived and started to work days ago and none from the States. The lack of coordination has and continues to be awful. Despite having supplies at the airport it was closed so Hilary could visit, If the US Army could do that why can't they get supplies to us???? Please let as many folks as you know of the courage of the Haitian people despite this contd . promise of help. Tell them what it is like to give a 7 year old children's Motrin for a broken jaw and deep leg lacerations and Motrin 200 mg to a woman who leg has been amputated from the knee down and then ask me how we can fight wars in other parts of the world but can't find a way to help a country 2 hours away. No wonder Osamab is still walking around.
What would have happened if on 9/11, if we waited to plan coordination and refused to let supplies into NYC because there was too much rubble. The Americans who have arrived many through the DR have been wonderful but they had to fight to find a way. Nothing has been done to make help accessible. I know it is there from the emails but as a Naval Officer is quoted as saying the terrain is difficult. There is an ocean out there and no fuel can get in???? Give me a break I love you all and have to go. As the UNPres. said "lack of aid is making the Haitian people restive" So you have one very restive aunt!!!!!!!!!!!!

Matthew 25 on "Today"

2010-01-18T18:35:00.000-08:00

http://today.msnbc.msn.com/id/26184891/vp/34920786#34920786

US Policy in Haiti Over Decades “Lays the Foundation for Why Impact of Natural Disaster Is So Severe”

2010-01-15T09:59:00.000-08:00

http://www.democracynow.org/2010/1/14/us_policy_in_haiti_over_decades

Democracy Now interviews Brian Concannon, human rights lawyer who is largely responsible for our trip to Haiti.

From a good friend..

2010-01-15T09:50:00.000-08:00

A College Professor wrote the following:

"As CNN, ABC and every other major corporate media outlet will be quick to point out, Haiti is the poorest country in the entire Western hemisphere. But not a single word is uttered as to why Haiti is poor. Poverty, unlike earthquakes, is no natural disaster.

The answer lies in more than two centuries of U.S. hostility to the island nation, whose hard-won independence from the French was only the beginning of its struggle for liberation.
... See More
In 1804, what had begun as a slave uprising more than a decade earlier culminated in freedom from the grips of French colonialism, making Haiti the first Latin American colony to win its independence and the world's first Black republic. Prior to the victory of the Haitian people, George Washington and then-Secretary of State Thomas Jefferson had supported France out of fear that Haiti would inspire uprisings among the U.S. slave population. The U.S. slave-owning aristocracy was horrified at Haiti’s newly earned freedom.

U.S. interference became an integral part of Haitian history, culminating in a direct military occupation from 1915 to 1934. Through economic and military intervention, Haiti was subjugated as U.S. capital developed a railroad and acquired plantations. In a gesture of colonial arrogance, Franklin D. Roosevelt, who was the assistant secretary of the Navy at the time, drafted a constitution for Haiti which, among other things, allowed foreigners to own land. U.S. officials would later find an accommodation with the dictator François “Papa Doc” Duvalier, and then his son Jean-Claude “Baby Doc” Duvalier, as Haiti suffered under their brutal repressive policies.

In the 1980s and 1990s, U.S. policy toward Haiti sought the reorganization of the Haitian economy to better serve the interests of foreign capital. The U.S. Agency for International Development (USAID) was instrumental in shifting Haitian agriculture away from grain production, paving the way for dependence on food imports. Ruined Haitian farmers flocked to the cities in search of a livelihood, resulting in the swelling of the precarious shantytowns found in Port-au-Prince and other urban centers.

Who has benefited from these policies? U.S. food producers profited from increased exports to Haitian markets. Foreign corporations that had set up shop in Haitian cities benefitted from the super-exploitation of cheap labor flowing from the countryside. But for the people of Haiti, there was only greater misery and destitution.

Washington orchestrated the overthrow of the democratically elected Haitian President Jean-Bertrand Aristide—not once, but twice, in 1991 and 2004. Haiti has been under a U.S.-backed U.N. occupation for nearly six years. Aristide did not earn the animosity of U.S. leaders for his moderate reforms; he earned it when he garnered support among Haiti's poor, which crystallized into a mass popular movement. Two hundred years on, U.S. officials are still horrified by the prospect of a truly independent Haiti".

Refugees

2010-01-15T09:38:00.000-08:00

From an email I received from a friend and "Catholics United"

For the past two days, we have watched in horror as the people of Haiti suffer a great deal. The fact that Haiti was already the poorest country in the Western Hemisphere makes this week's earthquake all the more painful. Tens of millions of dollars are pouring into worthy charities. Governments appear to be mobilizing. Hopefully it is soon enough.

One issue that still needs immediate attention is the status of Haitians in the United States. Already, the White House has "paused" deportations of Haitian refugees. The next step is to grant Haitians the immigration protections offered to victims of war or disaster - what is known as Temporary Protected Status (TPS).

Will you take just one moment to sign our Emergency Petition to President Obama for Haitian Refugees? To sign the petition, click go here:
http://www.catholics-united.org/haiti-petition?id=N&cs=53e19f944f4a547c7524ca5dbb717402_1263499603_168&cid=99873

TPS is granted by the U.S. Department of Homeland Security to refugees who cannot safely return to their home country because of armed conflict, environmental disaster, or other extraordinary and temporary conditions.

This policy change has taken place before - in El Salvador, Honduras, Somalia, and Sudan. And unlike so many other issues, the president can do it himself. President Obama should instruct the Department of Homeland Security to grant Temporary Protected Status to undocumented Haitians in the United States. This will protect them from forcible deportation back to Haiti, allow them to work legally, and start the process of rebuilding and healing.

photos have been moved and pat robertson talks to the devil?

2010-01-14T19:52:00.000-08:00

The photographer that I met, Daniel Morel, no longer has pictures on twitter. I've seen them all over the news, so I'm guessing he moved them for copyright purposes.

He has photos at http://www.corbisimages.com.

Search: Daniel Morel.

Also, an issue I'm couching for later: my complete anger/disgust/disappointment at Rush Limbaugh and Pat Robertson. I used to consider myself a journalist. The media will run/play what sells. Please please please. Start IGNORING these people so that they stop getting air time. Look them up on youtube or something, fine. But don't watch them on TV or else they'll continue to get advertisers/ continue to get paid. Haiti needs our money. I can think of a few things that Pat Robinson deserves...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0ti-MzHRgDE

(In response, my dad said "Well, Pat Robertson says he talks to God pretty regularly. I asked her and she said she didn't know who the f#$% he was... apparently, he talks to the devil too.")

A new commitment

2010-01-14T17:09:00.000-08:00

Today’s been hard.

I drove my Dad to the airport early in the morning, and upon my return found the newspaper at my front door.

“Helpless”- the headline reads. The pictures are worse.

“Useless” is the headline I feel like is hanging over my head.

We still haven’t heard from our interpreter, Daniel, from Mario, or any one else that we interviewed on our trip. The little we have heard has been cryptic and pessimistic.

A friend, Willy, who lives in Jacmel on the coast, finally updated his facebook page. He writes that he is alive, but that Jacmel is dead.

From our driver and friend, Vladimir:

Thanks my friends Haiti is down. Completely down, It's very difficult to walk in Port au Prince without seeing a dead. I am using Internet at olofson hotel [sic]on a I touch I can not send pictures to you but you will see them soon, I hope. Peace and may God bless Haiti.

I’ve been feeling like I’m walking around in a daze, going through the motions, and feeling incredibly useless if I let myself think about it. I feel guilty for the times I was overwhelmed by Haiti and wanted to be home and a sense of longing for the people, art, music, and heartache I left behind. I’m struggling to find meaning to my last semester of law school and trying my best not to add strain to the relationships around me.

I’m a writer, a story-teller by nature, so I suppose all I can do is continue to write here, both about what I saw in Haiti and how I think people can best help. I need your help to wake up and feel like in the very least I’m doing something- by telling people what they need to hear about Haiti. We need to talk about the hard truths of a nation we owe a lot, and also, what our response says about our own country.

I never really considered myself a blogger, but comments and emails from strangers who have found my blog are beginning to convince me otherwise.

I think Saul Williams said it best…. “WE OWE HAITI.”

So in the very least, let’s try not to move onto the next scandal and let’s continue to talk about, pray about, sing about Haiti.

Real Pictures

2010-01-13T15:01:00.001-08:00

The night before we left a met a professional photographer who has seen a lot in Haiti. He's able to update photos to his twitter page...

http://twitter.com/photomorel

what we've heard

2010-01-13T14:52:00.001-08:00

We have received word from Matthew 25- they have satellite internet- and also from our driver Vlad. We still haven't heard from Daniel Tilias, Mario Joseph, or anyone else we met on the trip.

I'll continue to use this to post what I hear.

FROM SR. MARY FINNICK IN PORT-AU-PRINCE:

We are all OK physically at the house. We were home when it hit. The downstairs part of the house stood up well, does not appear to be any serious structural damage. But, there has been some considerable damage upstairs. Matthew 25 cooked up 4 big pots of soup for the people coming for treatment, and we served as a triage and treatment center. We were able to climb over the fallen bookcases and shelves and retrieve a lot of meds and supplies we had in our depot.

Sr Mary, Vivian and our 6 guests performed superbly in treating many injured. Eventually, 3 Haitian doctors showed up, I think when they heard we had supplies. Worked til about one in the morning. We were also one of the few houses to have power with our inverters and batteries, so we set up 3 or 4 lights on the soccer field to help with the treatment. The hospitals are either badly damaged or destroyed and have stopped taking patients as they are overwhelmed.

Pray for our sisters and brothers.

Pat, Viv, Sr. Mary

It is morning and I can give you a better assessment of the house. The first floor is covered with all the things that came out of the closets but there isn't any big structural problem. The divider between the depot and the store fell in as did most of the other book cases in the office and in my room. The 2nd floor is different The side facing the soccer field has more damage and the cement walls and some of the boards have been knocked around. The 3rd floor stairs are just hanging there. The cement in front of the bathroom is badly damaged. On the other side the bathroom wall on the outside is damaged but there doesn't seem to be as much structural problems. The wall between us and the neighbor has quite a large hole. I don't know yet what to tell folks about coming but I don't think we can use the rooms upstairs. I've been trying to answer and reassure folks we are ok.

We used everything I had as I triaged along with 3 MD's and our guests. Vivian and Pat had the important job of getting to our supplies as that whole area is under debris; making pots of soup etc. We finally cut up pillow cases for bandages. I think planes are flying out today but I haven't heard from the folks who are in country and supposed to return to PAP. Our electricity continues but the container holding 12 of the batteries is damaged. All the cars survived.

Domond just came over and said his house is not safe because of the damage upstairs. He did ask to have you contact any medical groups planning to come to see if they still planned to and then ask if they would stay in PAP as this the most needy place right now. We can use the soccer field and out back for sleeping area and the kitchen for cooking in the back is OK. But there is a great need for medical supplies, suturing, betadine, analgesics...everything... and personnel to bring it.

Mermaids

2010-01-05T07:40:00.000-08:00

Today we meet with Mario, and I need to get to gear up so I am going to talk about some of the hard stuff I have been trying to avoid.

Haiti isn't dangerous. Haiti is hard.
Maybe the State Department doesn't want people to come to see what a royal job we've done of screwing this place up. This beautiful place rich with history, music, art, and culture.

I have heard stories of people eating mud in the slums to survive. An estimate 1 in 10 children is sold as a slave either in country or abroad. The pollution is terrible, the roads are worse, schools are nonexistent in some places, the water filthy, trash in the street,& smell of burning plastic.

The US has assisted in ousting democratically elected Aristide- twice. When people gathered to protest in the streets- Military shot into the crowds. Then the UN was sent in- not to help the people, but to support the military. There are even more stories of the Brazilian UN soldiers killing people arbitrarily. The US embassy is a joke and as far as I can tell, we are most interested in privatizing water and having a vantage point close to cuba. We don't care about these people. These strong people- the first nation where slaves liberated themselves are now oppressed by us, their government, and immense poverty.

How can we even begin to talk to them about "justice" and the "rule of law." Justice in Haiti is not retribution. Justice in Haiti is to allow them the democratic freedoms we ourselves enjoy. Justice in Haiti is clean water, decent roads, schools, and food other than dirt. There is no justice for a woman who's husband was found shot dead in the sea, while she starves and her home is washed away by the hurricanes.

The story goes in Haiti that the slaves who jumped overboard on their way became mermaids and mermen. It's amazing that there aren't more of them in the waters off Raboto now, because often the future looks just as bleak.

tap tap

2010-01-03T13:14:00.000-08:00

We finally made it back to Matthew 25 after a very stressful day of trying to travel.

Parts of Jacmel were so beautiful, so it was worth it. I forgot to mention that out back of our hotel was a courtyard with and old tree that had completely been taken over with vines of orchids.

Yesterday we hopped on the back of a motorcycle (so us and the driver on one bike) to go to a nice hotel we'd heard about. They had a little alcove beach that was truly something from a story book. So we ate there and hung out all day. By the time we were ready to leave it was raining. It stopped just long enough for us to hop on a motorcycle back to town. It was dark and the bike was tiny but the driver went slowly for us. My muscles were so tired from gripping Daniel's knees so tight the whole time.

I took my malaria pills yesterday and they make me feel sick. I had horrible night terrors last night- so bad I am thinking about not taking the pills anymore. The air pollution here is so bad but my asthma is just now bothering me. They burn all their garbage so you can just constantly feel plastic in your lungs and black smoke from the back of the pickup trucks they use as taxis.

I was so ready to be back this morning, but it turned out Vlad couldn't drive us. Time for an adventure. Willie (who worked at our hotel) drove us to the bus station in the rain and we jammed into a tap tap with at least 30 other people. I am certain it was the most miserable experience of my life to date, but an experience nonetheless. Daniel was shoved up against the open window, second from the back, with me next to him. We both had our huge bags on our laps. There's not really much of an aisle and what there was of one was filled with a sketchy dude carrying a bird he had tied up that he kept resting on my knee. He eventually fell asleep on me, as did the girl behind me. It was raining so weird smelly water was dripping on us which made the bus extra hot and muggy. Dan got spit on at one point and when I finally got out a bag of potatoes was thrown from one of the many passengers on top of the bus into the dirty street/sewer water below, splashing all over me.

Our local phone ran out of minutes when we got into PAP after hours of winding mountain roads, so we had to find someone who would sell us minutes. Then we walked to the palace of justice in the middle of town to wait for the matthew 25 driver because the station is too crazy/hectic/dangerous to be standing around. But the walk itself was insane. Here we are- two white kids with giant backpacks- walking through the downtown area. A guardian angel found us- a kid who had studied in the US and spoke english walked us there and our ride was there within minutes.

I kissed Sister Mary and offered to scrub the floors and wash the pots because I was so happy to see here. After a cold shower, it has started to rain and I am anxious for dinner.

Just a day in the life in Haiti.

There's a saying here in Haiti- "how many people fit in a tap tap?"
"Always one more."

Well, that's fine and good, but I won't be getting on one again. If we make it up to Cap Haitian to do more interviews we will fly.

We're learning so much. But Friday couldn't come fast enough.

jacmel and this, our new year

2010-01-01T15:50:00.000-08:00

Sorry it's been so long. But I am not even quite sure who's checking.

We're really hitting our stride now, made friends we can trust, learned how to get around (sorta) and the food we like to eat.

I am sitting in a building that looks like it belongs on Burbon Street. An old converted mansion in the beach town, Jacmel. Vines grow out of aged brick and the palm tree in the center grows through the open roof. Something of a full moon- but it looks like rain. 80 degrees- stagnant air and rain. We came to Jacmel last Wednesday. Snuck in the back of an old house and watched a voodoo ceremony, saw huge paper mache masks and the beginnings of Carnival.

Turned on some Michael here and had our own countdown after having our minds blown while wading through a market at night looking for fish to eat. A market lit only by candle light. Our old driver Vlad picked us up and took us out. Now we read law review articles and prepare to meet Mario Joseph, the lawyer who inspired this journey.

Today is independence day- you eat Jamos- pumpkin soup.

Bon anne. Happy New Year.

tropicana and raboto

2009-12-28T17:40:00.000-08:00

Not much time right now, but if I don't make a list I will forget.

The first night we went out with a Haitian who lives in the US, a missionary couple (jeff and Sharron) who have been coming for 10 years and an armed guard. They took us to Jumbayla (sp?) And we saw a famous band called Tropicana and got home and 3:30 am- making Sister Mary not happy with us. Then to Raboto- life changing. More later.

The Matthew 25 House

2009-12-26T17:42:00.000-08:00

After we got a sim card for Daniel's phone (that doesnt work) we walked out the airport and through a sea of haitian men, yelling (because they want you in get in their taxi?)and staring (because we're white and obviously not in a pack of similarly clothed missionary ducklings), when I heard a little voice saying "caitlin?" And looked down to see a little old white lady who then introduced herself as sister mary.

Sister Mary is running the Matthew 25 house in Delmas alone at the moment, but she does have the help of her friend, sister mary (no joke). Sister mary has been working here for 5 years and although she doesn't speak very much Creole, she "drives Haitian." We waded through what seemed like hundreds of people in the street through the poorest places I have ever seen. I haven't even seen a store- I mean any kind of store let alone a burger king or supermarket. People just hang out on the side of the road with clothes, fruit, and toys. We made it to the white gates of our new home (gates AND guard) and came inside to see a modest but charming house full of haitian art and carvings. Downstairs are common areas where we eat and play cards (already learned a haitian game called "casino") and right now daniel and I are alone upstairs in the "flower" room- but will get other bunk mates- probably missionaries tomorrow) upstairs the rooms open to a large open roof top area where a missionary couple game us our first lesson in creole. They've been coming for ten years and are very helpful. Now, with their help and a haitian guide we do a little exploring. Tomorrow the real work begins.

airport

2009-12-26T10:16:00.000-08:00

Landed safely. Waiting in line to get a local phone to call the translator.

miami

2009-12-26T06:08:00.000-08:00

In Miami boarding plane to Port Au Prince. We are staying at the Matthew 25 House and they will be picking us up from the airport (thank god).

See you on the flip side...

Haiti bound

2009-12-25T16:27:00.000-08:00

Daniel and I leave tonight for our latest adventure.

My cell phone should work (albeit at 3$ a min will be for emergency use only). The verizon people say that means I should get internet, so I will try to update here as much as possible.

It should be quite an adventure. Type Haiti into youtube and watch anything to get a glimpse of the level of poverty and lack of development there. More than any other trip I'm anxious and nervous. But in the very least I'll be home in 2 weeks with some incredible stories, I'm sure.

This is the massacre and subsequent litigation we're writing about: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Raboteau_Massacre

Stay tuned....

Lovelovelove and Christmas,

success

2009-12-15T21:47:00.001-08:00

I still have 2 finals to go this semester, and then I begin the work of my big research project, like 4 Christmases, moral character application etc etc etc.

I've got to say I'm feeling pretty burnt out. Pretty burnt out and apathetic about it all.

Part of me knows I will feel relief just getting it done, getting through it. But that certainly isn't the same as success. But maybe law school doesn't have much to do with that anyway. Maybe it's more some of the things I've already done.

One of the best things I got out of my experience at the Panetta Institute was a card. For some reason, my favorite thing about the whole experience was that they picked out a card for me with this quote on the cover:

"To laugh often and much;

to win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children;

to earn the appreciation of honest critics and to endure the betrayal of false friends;

to appreciate beauty;

to find the best in others;

to leave the world a bit better whether by a healthy child, a garden patch

or a redeemed social condition

to know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived.

This is to have succeeded."

-Ralph Waldo Emerson

I guess I'll get back to studying now. I think my lack of motivation comes from my knowledge that it really has little to do with who I am...

warm car

2009-11-24T11:21:00.000-08:00

Ok, I don't have a lot of time. I'm sitting in my car in the parking garage at school (a) finishing an episode of Desperate Housewives online and (b) facebook stalking. Both of these events are regular activities during finals when one is desperate to find things that seem to be more important than studying. (I started blogging so I would snap out of it).

I've discovered a new thing this semester, I absolutely love sitting in my car. In some ways, I always new this. I loved staying in the warm car after a drive when I was little- sometimes my mom would let me stay and nap. This semester I've discovered that I can escape from the world and find a little privacy in my car. With the sun shining down on the metal, it stays warm. I roll the windows down slightly and let in a little cool breeze and keep the radio on (except when Desperate Housewives is on, obviously). It's like my own little cocoon and happy place. I've got my music, my coffee, my reading...

Feeling content, I'm happy looking at pictures on facebook. You know how that one-thing-leads-to-another thing goes... and pretty soon you're looking at your ex-coworkers mother's sister-in-law in Thailand. Anyway. For some reason right now I'm thinking about how no matter how different or even dorky or whatever I think these people are, they all have people to comment on their photos. "Neat!" "I like this one" "Where *were* you??!" They probably all think I'm chaotic/crazy but I have my own people. You know? Anyway. Most everyone has people. Whether they know it or not and whether or not those people are constant over a series of years, we basically all have people right now. I think that's something we should always be thankful for.

Alright, that's about all we've got time for today folks. Gotta run grab coffee and get back to the books. I've got a lunch date with my mentor, Joan, one of my very favorite right-nows that I hope will be a forever kind of person.

political catsup disaster

2009-11-22T11:38:00.000-08:00

I'm going to completely use you for my own benefit right now.

I'm in that place where the juices aren't flowing and my head is cloudy. I've been like this for a good 48 hours, which is completely unacceptable. I think that happens sometimes with writing/ studying. There's like a seal you have to break. I can't think of a good analogy for it... except maybe a ketchup/catsup bottle (I really just wanted to see if my auto-spell check would find 'catsup' acceptable. It does.) I think that analogy is actually pretty good because sometimes you've got a nice flow going but then out of no where it turns into a sloppy mess and everything is ruined and salty. Blergh.

I want to work on my paper. But I need some good democratic/ proud to be an American inspiration. Oh, I know, I'll watch 'West Wing'- duh. My paper is basically about how it's not the fault of kids today for being "apathetic" when we dont teach them about America and Democracy and how to be proud of the fact that we were founded on a bunch of ideals. And how they only really show up to vote when there's some like celebrity-esk candidate that they can look up on the interweb/ youtube. But how the candidates have figured out how to reach out to this population (via internet and cell phones, etc) but we have to do a better job with the message because if they dont care about the process (a) we lose the common ground with the "other" side so nothing can get accomplished (ie- we'll continue to become more and more polarized between parties thanks to cable news and Newt Gingrich (newt.org = scary) so the celebrity candidates everyone loves so much will never be able to do anything) and (b) we risk completely crashing in burning if we arent invested in repairing the system when we need it (ie California= also scary). This is all supported by statistics because (a) there has been a decline in civic education (b) parents aren't as invested in the system and probs not saying positive things at home (watergate, wmd, i did not have sexual relations with that woman?) (c) kids are showing up to vote only when celebrity candidates (d) kids know about issues but dont care/ dont vote because of them (see gay marriage) (e) while there is a dramatic increase in kids showing up at the polls, they still the the govt as "the" govt rather than "our" govt.

Anyway. It's hard to break down to just a paragraph, but it's intuitive and genius and the idiots Panettta made me talk to didn't get anything. It's so annoying. So I have to make my paper so good.

That's the sort of thing I've been thinking about. That and I'm sad about Christmas, basically all the time. I don't really want to talk about that though.

I've got to go eat something then really get to work.

Peace, Love, and Newt.

-C

When a song does a better job in explaining the way you feel..

2009-11-19T19:59:00.000-08:00

It's best not to fight it.  It's already been said.

**

There are places I remember  All my life, though some have changed

Some forever not for better

Some have gone and some remain

All these places had their moments

With lovers and friends  I still can recall

Some are dead and some are living

 In my life I've loved them all

But of all these friends and lovers

there is no one compares with you

And these memories lose their meaning

When I think of love as something new

Though I know I'll never lose affection

For people and things that went before

I know I'll often stop and think about them

In my life I love you more

Though I know I'll never lose affection

For people and things that went before

I know I'll often stop and think about them

In my life I love you more                                            In my life I love you more

****

Just perfectly how I feel tonight.  I think it's a good thing.  Goodnight, moon.

"you look tired" and other ridiculousness

2009-11-17T20:08:00.000-08:00

Hiiiiiiiiiii. (That's what baby Sammy says. Basically over and over. "Hiiiiiiiii." What a flirt.)

I'm going to have to apologize in advance, as I am particularly tired today thanks to last night's meteor shower.

I also want to apologize in advance for blogging when I don't really have much to say. I guess it's sorta like Trey says, and blogging takes some time, loneliness, and thought. I guess I'm just too busy for all that stuff right now. I just really want to do that thing where I just sit for an entire day. You know it. Like, when you plan on doing things but you're all alone in your apartment and you get wrapped up in TNT's primetime in the daytime or West Wing Marathons and the next thing you know you've spent an entire day sitting alone while eating salami and snickerdoodles. What? You too? God. That's all I want. That and Christmas.

I'm exhausted. I'm behind in school. My room's a mess. I haven't spent any quality time with my family any time even close to recently. I'm poor. I have no job and am graduating next year. These are the general things that shadow other thoughts. That and- my oldest friends are far away or I don't talk to them. I don't write any more. Blah blah blah. But I'm trying. I'm really trying to be balanced and hold it all together. I mean, I'm not eating on a regular basis, so my room's taken a turn for the worst. I don't understand how other people have time to eat 3 times a day. It's absurd. Being poor while working so hard is really the worst part. It's got to be just the worst part of grad school.

But enough of that. The only reason I'm talking about it is because before class today 3 people told me I looked tired. That's got to be one of the most useless things to ever tell someone. It's like when people tell me my hand is cold if they shake it. No kidding. It's my hand, imagine what it feels like to me. It's my body. If you think I look tired, don't you think I'm aware and feel tired? You acknowledging my tired doesn't make it any better. Does it make you feel better? Do you mean to say, "Are you ok?" or "I hope you're resting enough." Or something? Because "you look tired" is pretty pointless and makes me feel like I need to put on more mascara or something.

OK- none of this is the point. The point is that yes- I'm tired. I'm sick of driving to Monterey 2 or 3 times a week and have lost the Steinbeck magic behind it. I'm feeling sorry for myself because I have a ton of debt, no money, and bar prep starts in January. BUT.... the last time I was feeling sorry for myself, Connie reminded me that I can't control my feelings, but I can control my thoughts. Thinking about these things wont make them any better. In fact, it's pretty stupid and self-absorbed bullshit to be thinking about these things anyway. Because there are people around me who care. I mean, probably all those people who told me I look tired care. My dad cares. He never even once mentioned the fact that it looks like Staples threw up on my desk or that my room is embarrassing. My family forgives the fact that I suck at being in a family right now because they care. Those are the things to think about. That all those people want me to succeed, and more than that, they want me to sleep.

SO, yes. I will try my best to think more constructive thoughts for the benefit of myself and those around me. I will try to think about how I am doing this so that I can make a difference for people and for things that matter. I will think about how I don't have any money right now, but I'm being well-cared for anyway, and what a beautiful thing that is. I will think about how I am sentimental and sappy but how sometimes, I just need to put that aside to get some work done. It's time Caitlin. It's time for Finals Lock-Down 2009 (part 2). Working out, studying, sleeping, eating, laughing...

Thanks NaBloPoMo, for making me get a little out of my head, and on "paper."

(Also, I love you, Carolann Madden. Read her blog, people.)

chicken dance

2009-11-15T20:56:00.000-08:00

What used to be here was a blog about a 100th birthday party. The intention was to express how it taught me the importance of not taking everything so seriously, and what a beautiful thing that can be. Some people obviously missed that point and for that I am sorry and have removed the blog.

nancy grace should probably shut up now and i didn't talk about this but 24-hour news= the death of journalism.

2009-11-12T17:03:00.000-08:00

Carolann really stepped it up and wrote a *long* blog yesterday which is so annnnoying because it was way easier to do this when I was competing with her and winning. But w/e. I bet she won't even write tonight.

I got my fingerprints taken for the bar today. With it, I found out I have to have a separate FBI check on top of the "regular" Department of Justice background check to pass the bar because I lived out of state for longer than two years. Apparently they have been known to randomly call people to ask about the applicant. So, be warned, or something. I guess it's good that I feel confident enough my character that I'm not afraid of any one answering questions about it. I mean, even that girl who stalked my life would probably say I was a bitch to her, but hey, at least I was honest. I think that's probably the most important thing to being a lawyer anyway. Also, I have decided I'm not worried about passing the MPRE. You should hear some of the crap that comes outta people's mouths in my ethics class. These people are creeps, and chances are, they will all become lawyers. Look at Nancy Grace. That creep is a freaking former prosecutor and yells on TV about people's guilt and her disgust for them, before a single shred of evidence has been presented in a court room. That's exactly contrary to our system which to me, seems like the absolute *worst* moral sin you could commit as an attorney- to disrupt our delicate and complicated system and condemn someone in the public eye before they're proven guilty. I mean, I hate the dude who has 10 bodies buried in his backyard, but I am sure as shit not going to do something to keep him from getting a fair trial so that we can all be sure we locked away the correct douchebag. Anyway. You get it. They should let me be a lawyer.

parents=teachers

2009-11-11T13:10:00.000-08:00

I'm rather lonely at Panetta today, which is a good thing because I have a ton to do. But first, I wanted to share a little something with you (for three reasons -(1) I seem to have a million things swimming around in my head these days and (2) my new motivation for blogging is to beat Carolann at NaBl0PoMo and (3) I want to share with you this article that broke my heart).

Part of my job here is reading the news, which is pretty cool, but it can drive my mood for better or worse when I get in the thick of it. So today there's this: http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2009/11/11/AR2009111118432.html

I don't think I want to say much about it other than people can be so horrible. I mean, we're animals really, but why is it that there are some people who are so much less evolved that they are missing a piece of humanity? Wait, no. That's not fair. Animals would never do this sort of thing to their young.

I was talking to my mentor yesterday about my big paper I'm working on, and she casually said something I'm finding myself repeating, "We can either go through life thinking the purpose is to minimize pain and maximize pleasure and all that, or we can think our purpose is to make this place better. But that's something that's taught. It's something you learn."

Anyway, it wasn't even entirely relevant to anything I want to say, but it means maybe it's not inherent in us. But it's a duty either way. It's a duty to live that way and a duty to teach. Maybe because of as well as in spite of our humanity.

everyone wins

2009-11-10T16:43:00.000-08:00

Because today is the birthday of both the Marine Corps and Sesame Street.

Why not have the best of both worlds?

I like to see a man proud of the place in which he lives. I like to see a man live so that his place will be proud of him. ~Abraham Lincoln

2009-11-09T00:48:00.000-08:00

Veterans Day is usually celebrated on November 11. This year, it falls on a Wednesday which made me curious as to why it isn't a Monday holiday like most other non-religious holidays. It turns out major hostilities of World War I were formally ended at the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month of 1918 with the German signing of the Armistice. Hence- "Veterans Day" in the United States, and "Armistice Day" or "Remembrance Day" to the rest of the world. I've got to say I'm a little ashamed I didn't know that.

I'm also a bit ashamed that Veterans Days seems to be slipping under the radar. I'm not sure why we don't have the day off and why there isn't better PR for the holiday in general. There is no more important time than now, no more important day than today to be reminding the men and women who serve or who have served our country just how much we are proud of them.

It's interesting to me to think about how America was founded deliberately and specifically because of an idea, or rather, a host of good ideas. We don't have ancient castles or ruins to look back on, because the richness of our history is less tangible. Our history is rooted in dreams and ideals that are important enough that people literally sign their lives away to simply serve the cause. It's mind blowing to me. In a time when the majority of the next generation of young adults are more focused on success and money than ever before, there are some who are so selfless that they donate their entire lives to the ideal.

That's beyond something to be proud of. That's the life-blood of our country. I think maybe we forget, or take it for granted, or maybe even down-play its importance. But it's absolutely everything. The pride we can feel in the very purpose of our society can give us reason to act in a way to be proud of. We obviously don't all live up to it. But it's what makes us so strong, both in military strength and intellectual strength. We're built on dreams and new ideas, and would fight to the death for integrity of our freedoms.

So here's to all the men and women who have served our country, and to those who are serving both domestically and abroad today so that we have the privilege of living our dreams back home. Let's give them a reason to fight and let's continue to make this place something to be proud of.

This is what happens when I'm trying to study...

2009-11-04T20:22:00.000-08:00

marriedtothesea.com

NaBloPoMo

2009-11-04T11:12:00.000-08:00

OK, *fine.* It's National Blog Posting Month and Carolann wants me to do this everyday. I won't do it everyday, I just won't. I won't do it because no one reads this except for her and I tell her what I'm thinking all the time anyway. The only time anyone has ever read it is when that one girl stalked my life and sent my poetry to this guy who wasn't her boyfriend and made him mad at me. That time and then recently when I posted an angry hungry blog and upset my mom. It's not her fault. She just taught me what calories are and some people apparently don't learn that stuff and that's how they can eat two dinners when we're in high school.

Speaking of that stupid diet, it was stupid. In fact, all those "cleansing" diets are officially stupid. Of course you lose weight, you're basically starving yourself. I didn't lose weight on the fake GM diet because I ate every fruit and veggie I could find as if it would be the last time. But the other ones, you're cranky for the first day because you're hungry and then you feel better a few days in because your stomach shrinks. It's how anorexia works. It's not that hard. You feel all good at tight and skinny but really, you're anorexic. Get over it. Eat a salad and go for a walk. Curves are better then little boy bodies anyway. So I am now on the Melissa diet. She says to eat every two hours and make sure you eat protein. Cheese counts as protein, so I'm in the clear.

Oooh k. I'm sitting at home right now instead of running around apu (as per usual). I woke up feeling like I was hit by a bus, and by woke up I mean I drifted in and out of sleep for 2 hours longer than I was supposed to. So, I either have some *gasp* flu, or am having an allergic reaction to the turkey in my meatloaf last night (how's that for a diet), or I'm overwhelmed and exhausted and my body is forcing me to sit on my couch today. Whatever the reason, I'm up for it. I'm going to be doing a whole hell of a lot of sitting today. Sitting and studying for the MPRE.

eek. The MPRE is the ethics portion of the bar exam. It's also good practice for me to start getting into study mode since I take the bar in, oh, i dunno, 9 months. I think this knowledge along with stress from law school exams, the MPRE, and the knowledge that I don't have a job is manifesting itself as a little ball of sick in my stomach that probably looks a lot like that chick with too much eyeliner.

So, I think that's really what's going on with me. I think I'll write about real things other days, other than me sitting. And yes, Carolann. I will do my best to do it everyday.

Attack of the Killer Hungry-Woman

2009-10-26T17:00:00.000-07:00

Ok. I’m starving.

I keep getting friendly advice to either (#1) keep busy(!) or (#2) just eat something already- neither or which seem like a viable option, so I’m blogging instead.

I’m trying this damned “GM Diet” which isn’t a real thing, mostly because it most certainly wasn’t developed by the top execs at General Motors, but it will enable me to lose a few pounds fast, which I’m entirely interested in. It touts itself (and by “it” I mean the description I found on some bogus website) as being one of those “cleansing” things, which I’m into I guess, but not into enough to drink lemonade, maple syrup and cayenne pepper.

But let’s be honest. It’s not really about that. It’s about the somewhere around 10 pounds I’ve gained in the last month thanks to a sweet Jewish boy and his family who call me a whack-job when I try to turn down a steak dinner.

While I’m cranky enough to say it- I KNOW that dieting isn’t a good way to “permanently lose weight” and that I’m probably mostly going to lose water weight and blah blah blah. I’m a 25 year old female born in the 21st century to a mother obsessed with weight and dieting, who is now smart enough on her own to have made it to her final year of law school. If one more person gives me some “advice” on weight loss I’ll find a way to jump through this computer and strangle them.

I eat healthy and I exercise pretty regularly. I’m just eating more regularly than ever before, and until my body figures out that I can have the metabolism of a normal person, I’m not interested in being one of those girls that makes you wonder why “low-rise” jeans were ever in style.

Instead of trying to lecture me on things I know to be true (this seems to be my general problem with all things unhealthy in my life- we rarely want to stop maybe because of rather then inspite of their unhealthiness?) why don’t we start to figure out why it’s this way. Why do we ever take the hard road even when we know the hard road is less than necessary? In fact, it’s usually worse for us in the long run. That’s the thing about that “often the hard choice is the right one” business- it’s usually only hard right this second. But NO DUH it may be hard to not see your abusive boyfriend anymore right now but it is probably better for your 13- year-old boy (not me- w/e, you get it).

And you know what I mean. The relationships we should end that just prolong pain, the jobs we hate, the phone call we don’t want to make….

Maybe instead of blaming others and ourselves in this situation, we should look at the alternative we’re seeing as so unbearable, and what brought us here.

But whatever (in regards to what brought us here), we basically can all boil down our relationship issues to some (usually male) member of our family, and our eating is all directly related to our mothers (mine is probably eating a Lean Cuisine or Skinny Cow as we speak). None of that really matters in moving ahead except in recognizing that they’re all these major life-forces that somehow have nothing to do with the people who love us today (even our parents! I mean *sure Tracie Robinett is happier when she thinks I look good, but only because in some twisted way something in her past made her think it’s a reflection on herself, but she still loves me the same way!)

I guess what I’m trying to say is that we all do what gets us through the day. And we usually do it in spite of what we know would be the better option. But there are once and a while immediate forces that just make it feel like the better option. And I guess I’m ok with that as long as your tiny missteps don’t get in the way with the much larger, long- term goal. I fully intend to not pass whatever the hell this eating issue is to my daughter, and I intend to go back to eating just as regularly this weekend. I just feel like in the meantime it’s fine to eat just fruit today, and just vegetables tomorrow for the sake of looking good in whatever idiotic-too-short Halloween costume I decide to go with this weekend. Oh god. Don’t even get me started.

Forgive me lord, for I have sinned.

2009-09-26T15:59:00.001-07:00

I guess today is as good as any to say something.

I'm exhausted today, with maybe no particular reason for it. There are purple flowers in my hair, taken from Marina's yard, but I am laying on the couch, smashing them, having trouble getting myself to move.

I have been thinking about happiness a lot lately, and how relative it is, and how complicated creatures we really are. I recently read an article about how women's happiness rate is at an all time low. But what does that even mean anyway? How much are we in control of our actions and how much do they relate to our happiness? I either believe that I'm an adult- and should sack it up and start making myself life the life I want, or I believe that I'm not in complete control of my life whatsoever- and am simply doing the best with the situations I am put into. I guess it's somewhere in the middle. But there really is nothing worse than knowing you are happy, seeing it right there in front of you, and closing the door to any possibility of permanence.

When I was studying buddhism and non-attachment, I became really good at not longing for the things I already had. I can see the beauty in something because I know- and almost expect it- to be gone rather shortly. But I don't think I ever fully learned how to let go of the past; to let go of those things that haven't been beautiful for some time.

What a revelation. I am not attaching to the now, because I'm busy trying to recreate the beauty of before. Always. Pretty soon, that now becomes recent history, and again, I try to recreate what I never really enjoyed to begin with.

I guess I'm writing to say that I'm so sorry. That I've made mistakes, and continue to make them, in spite of the beauty of my every day life. And to say, I'm falling in love. If with nothing else, then with the possibility of learning how to enjoy each moment- not as if it's my last (that part is *easy*)- but as if there is absolutely nothing that came before it, except what made us who we are. Those moments have served their purpose and remain, better off dead.

I hope this comes with forgiveness. And with each morning, a re-birth, a new beginning to define exactly the life I want to be living.

It's about time...

2009-08-04T22:36:00.001-07:00

I just couldn't really put El Salvador into words. I just couldn't. I scribbled bits and pieces in a journal for myself, but for fear of the work, I never came back here. And I regret it. Maybe I will someday. Maybe this is how I end up getting so far away from myself. I'm not holding myself accountable when I'm not writing. Before you know it, I'm hanging out with people who only ever talk about being drunk/sick/annoyed/and/or/hungover. God. It's about time.

I'm getting quiet again, introspective again, so I expect I'll be back here. I am not exactly sure what it is this time, but I'm sure I'll figure it out.

I am planning a journey to Haiti and a trip to Cuba, but how about a little every-day writing before I run away?

I think so too. And I would appreciate it if you spent a little more time here too. Let's write something more than 140 characters, post something a little less tumbly, and be a little more honest than 595 facebook "friends" allow. Shall we?

papaya hotel? el salvador. day 1

2008-12-26T17:09:00.000-08:00

I never leave myself enough time. I scrambled around for a half hour before Daniel and his Dad came to take me to the airport. I forgot some things. I don´t have a towell. But we got there, and then here, with little to do. The main thing is that I feel like it may take me a couple days to relax. I am being horribly anxious and grumpy, and I don´t really know why. Maybe it´s because I got mad at Daniel in the airport and knew that I was in the wrong. I don´t know. I can´t shake it. I hate knowing that I am being irrational but not feeling like I can do anything about it.

Flying in was incredible. There are volcanos seemingly everywhere. It´s not unlike Costa Rica, albeit the poorest parts. I love that not a soul speaks english. Without my cell phone, or being able to speak well, i plan on just being quiet, and watching. I secretly think everyone looks like me. I know it´s not true, but i like to pretend.

When we showed up in El Salvador, Nicky was in a group of people, sweetly standing on tip-toes and waving his hand. We paid a cab (against my better judgment, but we would have had to take a bus out of our way to get to the city to then get on another bus to the beach) to take us to some town that´s not La Libertad, but is close. We are not at playa San Diego, but i think we´re close. I actually have no idea where we are, but our little hotel (slash) hostel has free internet, hammocks, and 3 beds in a room for about 20 bucks a night.

It may be important to mention that I am reading ´Franny and Zooey´again. As I have just started, I am being terribly introspective the way that Franny is. I am judging Nicky and Daniel at every turn, and secretly dream of running away. It´s not really ok. I try to direct my over-analyticalness towards beams of sunlight that I could lay down in, and away from my poor unsuspecting friends.

We went to the beach early, maybe 9 am. We had lunch, a nap, and a long walk along the beach. The sand is dark, yet not quite black, from the volcanos. The water is so warm, you almost don´t notice when it hits your feet- it´s so similar to the weather outside. It´s like my body knows I´m on vacation, within an hour my hair became a mane. We´re all sweetly ill-prepared for the beach- a little off-color and out of shape. I love it though. Between by boughts of grumpiness, I love watching Daniel and Nicky walk along the beach and playing in the waves.

What I meant to say is that I made it. I am here, and remembering how to be happy.
Buenas Noches.

Blueberry Wine

2008-12-23T01:56:00.001-08:00

You held my little toes in your hands.

(The smallest one is round like a berry.)

I can picture the stems you call fingers

Methodically pressing into my flesh

As we pretend to be distracted by conversation.

I was rooted to that place on the couch,

Far enough away so I could watch your whole body move,

Close enough to grow our longing.

But I watched you a second too long,

And our brief silences quickly soured.

You were not careful with me.

You were not careful with any piece of me.

You let my toes slide out of your fingers

When the first distracting sound made you

Look away.

You offer no comforting words

As I now bend down to pick up the pieces myself.

I count my digits, one by one, honestly believing

You've kept something of me.

Looking up to find you've gone,

I realize I'm right.

anything but speechless

2008-10-21T01:02:00.000-07:00

I trace the sign for infinity on your back

every morning we're together.

You're asleep, in the place under the window,

fresh sunlight making your skin look so new. (young)

I wish we could start over- you and me.

I'd play my cards so differently.

I would say more, I would be less afraid,

I would be in a position where I didn't have to let

my fingertips do the talking.

Silently, branding you. Tangling

the memory the night before in my heartstrings.

Your voice still lingers in my ear, your breath on my skin,

the weight of your body on my chest,

your hands when they find mine-

grasping for you.

We've been here many times before

(maybe a hundred).

You sleep soundly

and I wonder why

we can't exist in the daytime.

Home, James.

2008-07-14T23:39:00.000-07:00

tight in my chest...

voy a hogar.

see you soon.

Playa Ocotal

2008-07-12T08:42:00.000-07:00

Everyone began to leave San Jose, and Kami and Stacey picked me up yesterday in my sad little hotel. It took them 2 hours to find me on account of the fact that there are no addresses or street names in San Jose. I was so happy to see them and they were so.... yeah. It took them 2 hours to find me.

After a stressful day of driving in the rain, dark, and watching a motorcyclist get hit my a semi, we finally arrived at our resort in Playa Ocotal (Kami and Stace decided I had suffered long enough).

It was dark when we got here, so I was speechless this morning to awake to the most beautiful place I have ever seen.

Sorry, but we have to go drink more champagne and fall asleep on the beach. More later.

Love and kisses.

micah's version

2008-07-07T18:57:00.000-07:00

I don't have time to tell my version of the story, so here's Captain Caskey's in the meantime (which is much different than mine, but the interrogation part and me not getting my bag back parts are accurate)....

*So I've been here in Costa Rica for a little over a month at this point. This last weekend was--by far--my most comprehensive experience with the Costa Rican criminal justice system (and hopefully my last).

A few of us had planned to go to the Monteverde Cloud Forest Biological Reserve for the weekend. Our bus left San Jose at 6:30 am. As fate should have it, only Caitlin and I made it to the bus station. We boarded the bus and were set to go when the bus driver came by and told me to put my backpack underneath the bus. I wasn't really too keen on this idea, but what the hell. . . Caitlin asked me if she should move hers; I told her that I was only moving mine because it was so big. [mistake #1].

The bus gets going on time and the bus is fairly empty. She and I sit in separate rows so that we'd have more space on this 6 hour ride. [mistake #2]. As we approached the outskirts of San Jose after about 35-45 minutes, more and more people had gotten on the bus. An older gentleman (whom I'll call "Senor Pedro") sat down beside me as I was trying to fall asleep. I was listening to music, doing the best I could to sleep. Caitlin was still sitting alone. After about 10 more minutes, a pair of sketchy dudes got on the bus--one of whom sat beside Caitlin.

At about the 1 hour mark, a ruckus woke me from my all-too-blissful sleep. A lot of yelling in Spanish was going on amongst the people around me. All I could gather at the moment was that someone had just gotten off the bus. My Spanish is limited to asking for food/drinks, directions, and talking about soccer--I certainly couldn't keep up with passionate Latinos yelling... After a few minutes we came to realize that the sketchy dudes had jumped off the bus with Caitlin's bag and the wallet of an Australian guy (whom I'll call "Crocodile Hunter"). I got off the bus looking for someone to punch in the face, but, as you might have imagined, no one was around. Nor was the bag thrown any where discernible. Damnit. Luckily the bag only had school books, makeup, and clothes.

The bus got going again, sans bag. About 10 minutes later the bus pulled over again, and a nice lady acting as an interpreter told us that the cops had caught 2 guys and that they would come pick us up so that we could give statements against us (I'll call her "Fiery Latina"). Fiery Latina told us that we should go to help end this rampant crime against tourists. Apparently this sort of thing happens frequently on the tourist-heavy buses. So, me, Caitlin, Senor Pedro, the Crocodile Hunter, his Finnish girlfriend, Fiery Latina all pile into this police truck (Sr. Pedro and I riding in the back of the truck) and head to the police station in their little town.

When we get into this little station (and by little, I mean that they used old newspaper in lieu of regular toilet paper), we head into an office to give statements. I, having slept through everything, had exactly nothing to offer. So, like a good American, I just started taking pictures. I walked out of the office and started wandering while taking pictures. A couple cops just walked up and shaked my hand without saying anything. Weird, I thought. A few others asked me why I hadn't beaten these two smaller punks. Cops asking me why I didn't beat the hell out of their suspects. Weird, I thought. These police officers were openly in favor of me beating these fools.

After some more information gathering by Inspector Gadget & Company, Caitlin asked me why I didn't get her bag bag. Great, I thought. Now she's going to hold me responsible. What was I to do? I might as well try to interrogate Ace & Gary. What the hell, I thought, if they wanted me to beat these two, they'd certainly let me ask some questions, right?

So I asked. And they said yes. Seriously.

I went into this small room about 25 square feet. There was a waist-high wall that separated me and the suspects. Now--let me digress for a moment--my Spanish is mediocre at best. My German is even worse. My Arabic is even worse than that. Why do I say that? Because the first thing that came into my head once they told me I could interrogate these guys is the obvious: I don't speak Spanish very well. Being the ever-cosmopolitan traveler, I felt compelled to represent myself as being able to speak more than one language, irrespective of the truth.

I started off by asking they guys if they spoke German, in German. I then asked them if they spoke Arabic, in Arabic. (Well, I think that's what I said... it was more of mumbled Arabic-like sounds). Then I asked the same for English. Finally, I got to Spanish. They said, yes, they understood. Damnit.

The next several minutes were a series of grammatically incorrect iterations by me, doing my best to scare these punks into giving up some information. At one point I told them that I had lived in Iraq for 2 years (not accurate), that I had killed lots of people (not accurate), that I would wait for them in the street after they are released (not accurate), that if I killed them it would be nothing to me (not accurate), and that I was an evil man (maybe accurate). I swear to you this is all accurately what I said (errors in translation excepted).

They tried to play dumb, and I told them to shut up ("callate"). Finally, I pulled out my camera and took pictures because, as I told them, I wanted to make sure I got them later.

Needless to say, this was the best thing the Costa Rican cops have ever seen. They were patting me on the back and shaking my hand. The station captain came out pumping his fist in excitement, according to Caitlin, Crocodile Hunter and Fat Finn.

I still am not sure exactly how far this could have gone if I had pressed. I loaded a bunch of pictures, check 'em out.

By the way, and for the record, I couldn't help but think of the irony that I am here studying human rights law and yet I was almost presented with an opportunity to violate those very standards. I'm glad it didn't go too far, but damn, what a memory. ..*

Some Panamanian dude fought the law and the law won, but he got my backpack.

2008-07-07T13:58:00.000-07:00

"sometimes love dont feel like it should"

2008-07-03T14:12:00.000-07:00

I have put photos on Efrains computer, so hopefully I will get some up soon. I have many from other people, but other peoples pictures are never like your own. My pictures reflect the way that Ive seen Costa Rica, which can be so different from everyone elses perspective.

Ive had a wonderful week. Marilys (the friend I made in the airport) took Efra, Robin and I to a popular local club on Monday. It was SO crowded. (Yes, on a Monday). I (first) was brought on stage by myself while looking for Mari to do an 80s kickdance to "My Sherona," (2nd) was pretty damn close to fighting some ridic American guy who felt like he could touch me as much as he wanted because we are in Latin America, (3rd) at one point looked over at equally sweaty Robin during a horrible rendition of "hurts so good," and thought its possible Ive never been happier.

The next day we visited the UNHCR (United Nations High Commission for Refugees) office and had a fascinating presentation. Later we went roller skating AND bowling. Holy white trash USA. (perfect)

The Refugee class is really interesting, but I have about a 100 pages of reading a night. Its impossible to get through, and Im not looking forward to this exam. But I like the SC professor considerably more than the last.

Generalmente I am feeling a little down today. Sometimes I get tired of being the girl with buttons people love to push. I am going to get up early tomorrow and go to Monteverde (the cloudforest) with some of the guys (which certainly will not help with the button-pushing, but I can handle it). Talvez I am getting tired of the city and/or home is close enough in sight that those pressures are starting to sneak in. I am feeling this mix of nostalgia for both home and my time here- even though I havent left.

Interestante, verdad? Well, there isnt long now. Bittersweet reality has begun to tease my senses.

party all the time, party all the time

2008-06-29T16:08:00.000-07:00

Enough of the serious stuff, we've had a lot of fun down here.

The proof is in the pictures:

Karaoke= my job in Puerto Viejo. Before this, some pretty scuzzy guys were passing me around when they figured out I could dance. I got sick of it, and started to stay close to Kirby and Efra. After I sang, the same scuzzy guys asked Kirby and Efra PERMISSION to clap for me and "honor" me. Machismo works in mysterious ways.

Dancing on the beach at "Johnny's Place" earlier that night. Micah (aka 'Capatin Caskey', USMC, or aka 'South Carolina' (depending on my mood)) confessed to me later that night that after dancing with me, it was really hard to dance with the other girls who didn't know how. He immediately asked that I dont let it go to my head (it did).

There's nothing like sleeping it off the next day in a hammock outside of your little home in the Caribbean...

The following week, my mysterious fever went away just in time for me to celebrate the last day with the whole group. We hit the town *pretty* hard. We went to a group of bars in "el pueblo." It was nice to have a large part of the group together (minus Efra, who took his test late after he got my fever).

The girls, sober and pretty, in the beginning of the night (+ Kent, who can not take a picture without looking like a creep).

Apparently, we had a good time. Lisa is on the left and Vicky on the right. Lisa lives in the city and I'm sure I will see her more. Vicky is from Jersey, and one of my favorites now that Ash is gone and Robin spends every weekend with her boyfriend.

Let me introduce you to Guaro, the Tico's version of imitation vodka? (But it tastes more like rum.) Somehow, they thought we were VIPs at this bar, and let us up to this VIP balcony level. The bartender handed us two bottles of Guaro when we walked in, so Lisa and I took advantage. After these swigs, he handed us glasses and mixers (whoops). I still don't really know what happened, but the point is, we had a lot of fun for a little money.

Yesterday we went to the History Museum and a craft market. It's a good thing I'm so poor, because I basically want to buy all the jewelery that I see. The museum was cool, but the coolest part was when it started to absolutely storm and we all sat in the center of this old castle and watched the water poor down on the roof tops of the entire town below us. You could see the whole city and the stretches of mountains behind it.
I stood with four friends and looked out through the rain to buildings that probably contained a million people, but I felt peacefully alone.

Pictures to come.

wasting time on cheap talk and wine

2008-06-26T19:39:00.000-07:00

I'm supposed to be writing my final right now, so obviously I will write instead.

Today was my last day of Human Rights. Next week those of us staying on will do Refugee Law. I will miss the group, the court, and Judge Antonio Cancado Trindade.

The judge and Efrain, who next week starts an internship at the Inter-American Court.

Because I can't get to my computer, I will have to settle for some of Efrain's pics. I realize the link didn't work, so I added it to the tool bar at the right.

The night before Ashley left, we went to a coffee plantation. I think Efrain ended up paying a taxi driver $80 to drive us up this mountain (well, volcano really) because we wanted an adventure. It was POURING rain like I maybe have never seen. The taxi was old and I was sure we wouldn't make it. Efrain was constantly wiping down the front window for the driver to see as the driver gripped the wheel and did his best to navigate and Ashley and I were deep in conversation (as per usual). Along the way, people shouted directions to us through our window. At one point, lighting touched down literally feet from the car. When we got there, the rain stopped just in time for us to get some beautiful pictures (mine are really good :) )

The rows of coffee plants and banana trees reminded me of the vineyards in Napa and made me homesick.
After the coffee plantation we met up with Robin and her boyfriend Gusto and went to a jazz club. Turns out jazz is pretty much the same wherever you go. Lord, I'm craving live music.

The weekend after Ashley left Efrain and I went to the Caribbean and met up with 10 others from our group. We went to Puerto Viejo. The beach right outside the town has black sand. There seems at first glance to be a lot of tourists, but I think most foreigners have actually moved there. Hotels and restaurants are run by many Germans and Austrians. The food was so good and fresh.

When we arrived, we checked into our little bungaloo and rented bikes. We rode a couple miles down a mud road full of pot holes (I never fell, but was covered in mud none the less) and found some white sand beaches, but the rip tide was so strong you couldnt swim. When the rest of the group came, we got a sweet little house and I made pina coladas for everyone. After some begging, they found me a place to dance- right on the beach. We danced in the waves by candlelight and then somehow ended up in a tiny local bar, where I, yet again, ended up being the entertainment for the night and sang karaoke.

The playa negra (black beach) on the caribbean side:
Me, Lisa, Vicky, and Kirby

Vicky and I.

The sand is carbon black and would shine in the foamy surf. There are animals everywhere, including wild horses. Incredible.

We had a final dinner in an Argentinian steak house with the whole class- on Santa Clara's dime (and our tuition $s). We got stuck outside (Efrain, Robin, Gusto, and me) which was fine by us. Out of sight from the teacher, we ordered up a storm. But, by the main course, I was already wrecked with fever.

I am really going to go work on my final now and try to nurse myself back to health.
Sleep well, wherever you are.

quick update

2008-06-25T16:59:00.000-07:00

I finally moved into a safer/closer neighborhood.

My computer is broken, so access is super hard.

Efrain, Ash and I had a coffee farm adventure in the pouring rain, then went to a jazz club before she left.

Last weekend, the Caribbean was beautiful.

My first program is ending, so final tomorrow. But I am sooooo sick! Fever all night and all day....

Efrain posts pics at:

http://picasaweb.google.com/efrainstaino/CostaRica03?authkey=3WnoyaTFKus

(my new house is the same as his)

more soon. promise.

caribbean dreams

2008-06-23T07:39:00.000-07:00

My computer is broken. It's extremely frustrating. I may have to get a new one when I get back.

I will write more about the Caribbean, but we had these perfect little bungaloos with mosquito nets covering the beds. There were journals in each room with entries written in French, Spanish, English, czech, German, and more. Falling asleep in the heat, with the light above my bed lighting the net above me, I wrote:

My face is warm, my eyelids heavy.
Twirling the thin glass stem between my fingers,
I watch the soft light illuminating the
edge of the pools of red.
Liquid gliding easily along the glass,
mocking me,
pretending like one escaping drop won't be permanent.

Staining images and burning dreams,
I'm working harder than I should.
Laughing too loudly, listening too intently,
I recall places that existed only in a moment
and people who spoke only for me to hear.
My hand appears steady,
but my cynicism knows me better.

Exhausted, I wake remembering it's you
I'm pretending to forget.
The shadow of your laugh used to echo for me
constantly.
Speak to me.

Before Sunrise? Before Wednesday.

2008-06-15T18:36:00.000-07:00

I will save you all the meta-philosophical rant that I began the last post, as I have decided to turn it into my first article for the first issue of the Advocate. I think that the concepts of law have deviated too far from the discussion of ethics. Mostly I think that we take for granted that progress will be continuous- it’s not unless we fight for it.

Thursday night my new hermanos took me to a bar, Castros, which was a salsa bar downstairs and a karaoke bar upstairs. Basically, it was made for me. For those of you that know how passionate latin music is, I’m sure you can imagine the intensity that comes from the “Ticos” (what the Costa Ricans call themselves) in a karaoke bar. Of course I sang and made a fool of myself but then went downstairs and danced and felt a lot better. I have to say, it feels damn good to be a gringa in the biggest salsa bar in San Jose, Costa Rica, and still be one of the best dancers. Obvs, I had a blast.

Sometime around Wednesday or Thursday, something really amazing happened. That first day when you go around the room and introduce yourself and the impression you’re making on your classmates and teachers hedge on the few words you choose, a young woman named Ashley said she lived in a cabin in a little mountain town in Colorado with her husband a two dogs. She was one of the few that I initially thought I’d like, but had been busy with my new family and hadn’t reached out. She found me at break one day, and we instantly formed a great friendship. At dinner that night, we went to the bathroom and both gushed about how happy we were to have found each other and our other new favorite, Efrain, a married man who was born in Cuba, grew up in Sweden, and who's parents are from Uruguay. Efrain goes to Santa Clara and I am happy to have made a good friend that I can keep at home. It took a few days, but I finally found the people that I was destined to travel, laugh, cry, and grow with.

This weekend we went to Manuel Antontio, a beach on the pacific coast. Somehow by the time we got there, Ashley and I had already made each other cry on the bus. I don't think I've ever met a friend that I've so instantly connected with. I can't really type much about it now, because we're already feeling super emotional and the cafe we are at is about to close.

Ashley called her Dad the day we got to the beach and found out he has to have surgery on Thursday. After much discussion and tears, she decided to go home. It breaks my heart that our little group is already disbanding. Much like the movie, "Before Sunrise," the three of us are trying to suck out every moment we can. We swam for hours and hours, hiked all day, and stayed up talking and drinking all night.

With all the changes going on in my life, my short encounter with Ashley and Efrain really made me remember that what's important in life is always something that you carry around inside of you. More moments that make you laugh so hard that you cry and cry so hard that you have to laugh, are still ahead of us. Home is where we are, and with the people that are with us.

Ashley on the beach the night we got there.

Ashley and Victoria

The group from the first night. My two favorites are on the right- Ashley and Efrain.

On our hike, we almost literally walked into a group of about ten monkeys having lunch. This baby was my favorite.

The beach inside the park.

"people pass thru life nowadays..."

2008-06-10T19:23:00.000-07:00

I am grateful for all of your comments, emails and well wishes! Knowing you are in someone´s thoughts is one of those deep pleasures in life. Keep leaving comments, if even just to say you´re reading.

It´s funny. Sometimes you have to get out of your routine and your life to really feel like you´re exercising pieces of yourself.

On the first plane ride- really feeling alone- I rediscovered that music has and always will be one of my closest friends. It seems silly to say, but I know that most of you have felt that moment when you´re in a new place, so far from home, and a familiar melody or song can bring a flood of emotions. I was grateful.

On the second plane ride (and time in the airport, mostly) I rediscovered my love of talking to strangers and making new friends. I went from feeling alone and content on one plane to feeling like the entire world was on my side in the other. It´s what I loved about the restaurant, bartending, and living in a city. In a matter of minutes, I can form the kind of connection with someone that could last for years if I pursued it. The choice is mine- truly empowering.

(My new sister and brother are in the kitchen making me MORE food (I swear I have a belly already) and discussing where they are taking my school friends and me drinking Thursday night. See, I have already learned the Spanish that matters.)

I don´t know when dinner will be ready, or if I have time to get into it, but I have rediscovered a piece of myself already at school as well. My teacher is AMAZING' Judge Antonio Cancado Trindad from Brazil. He is really into the philosophy of law! Most people brush past philosophy just to learn hard and fast law- what needs to be applied today. But in the time of Plato, Socrates, Hobbes, Mill, and Suarez, the two were indistinguishable. Law was born out of philosophy- the idea that humans had rights and wondering where they came from is the basis of the way we govern today.

Much of the philosophy of law came out of Spain, although most Europeans don´t admit it. Victoria and Suarez wondered whether the "indios" of the new world had souls- because if they did, they had rights (they believed this to be true). Do the rights exist only because we right them down, or are they floating around somewhere above us- were they there before and despite the fact that they are written (I can´t find the question mark on this spanish computer).

ugh. dinner. more later.

2008-06-09T12:54:00.000-07:00

my new family. Memo and Mami.

my new neighborhood

Mami showing off my sign

I met my guardian angels, They live in costa rica.

2008-06-08T18:14:00.001-07:00

I haven´t been gone 24 hours and I already have enough material for about 5 short stories.

Due to my two hours of sleep in the last 24 and the Imperial cervesa I just finished, you´re lucking out with little snippets.

I arrived in Miami this morning at 5am EST, so 2am for yáll. Miami International is the worst airport I´ve ever seen. Yes, ever. No sleep, gate is changed three times, plane that is supposed to leave at 10am is "lost."

The next 7 loopy, goofy, delirious hours in the airport allowed me to make many friends. By the time I arrived in Costa Rica, I had made contacts with 6 new people, including an old bball player for the Indians who now works for the Mariners who promised to take me out with the boys the next time I´m in Seattle (this is no joke, he had a pic of Sexton´s ass on his digital camera), a woman who owns a Romanian restaurant outside of San Jose, CR, a new girlfriend = Mari, who wants to take me out in San Jose and then eventually Argentina, and some college kids who somehow got their weight in vodka on the airplane for free. Arriving hours and hours late, sitting on the runway for 30 minutes and customs for 45, I walk out to see a sea of drivers with printed signs pressed to the glass, and one man with "Catalina Robinett" scribbled with a sharpie on a yellow sheet of paper.

I walk around the corner and see a woman of about 5 feet, holding another sign with my name, gerber daisies, and wearing a button up pink shirt in the pouring rain. I must have been beaming, because my host Ydaria and her friend Memo both ran up to be yelling "Cati!" and my new Costa Rican mother gave me tres besos.

Right after I arrived, they closed the airport. Pouring.
Somehow, I´ve already been fed three times. Mami (Ydaria) is worried about me eating lunch while I´m at school, so she may pack me something even though I´m getting breakfast and dinner from her. She wants to drive me to and from school all week because she wants me to be comfortable before I use the metrobus. I have my own room in this precious home with an old wood slanted ceiling which echos the sound of each raindrop like it´s making a point for me to pay attention and remember. Most everything has been in Spanish although Memo speaks a little english. and ive already learned so much...

literally cant keep my eyes open. sorry doesnt make sense. just wanted to say that i´m already spoiled as hell, am pretty sure i´m going to get fat, i´m constantly being complimented and even the waiter at the restaurant ran into the rain to bring me an umbrella, so maybe i´m never coming home.

fat and happy, here i come.

school minana. i promise to be more poetic then.

(disclaimer. this computer doesnt really work so I cant use punctuation properly. also' i dont speak spanish and know im going to be spelling and using words incorrectly. get over it)

not your average travel blog

2008-05-27T01:54:00.000-07:00

I've already lied to you.
Here we are, just getting used to the idea of each other, and I've already gone and lied. I can't promise this isn't going to be like any other travel blog out there because frankly, I wouldn't like them enough to read them to find out what the average blog would be like.

But this one is probably better. Because I'm better. And there will be more than travel. There will be half baked stories, and partly written poems, and some of my favorite photos. And me. You get the best of me.

As Mr. Lund would say, "you can take that to the bank, Jack." "And that means you can count on it."

I have been sitting here for the last few hours, listening to my new spanish language CDs and debating whether or not I should start a blog again. So far, I've gotten this lame-ass entry and...

" ¿Qué es?"
"coliflor"
"Sí, coliflor. Es bueno, ¿no?"
"Más o menos. Necesita sal. "

So, if you're ever stuck in a spanish-speaking country, and desperately need to tell someone your cauliflower needs salt, you know who to call.

Costa Rica, here I come.