Here and There

snow / mixed blessings

2009-01-25T20:38:00.000-08:00

After the big Seattle Snow Storm of 2008, during which I felt anxiety-provokingly trapped, even though I could walk to work and around the neighborhood, and could get rides to suburbs in every direction from Seattle (I made it to Bellevue, Des Moines, and Everett), the sign of anything white falling from the sky causes me a moment of panic. I felt it today as flakes started to swirl out of the sky.

Really, it is an unreasonable panic. I've never not made it home because of the snow. I've never gotten in a snow-related traffic incident. I've never had a snow-caused injury or loss. But panics don't often respond to reason. However, two experiences with snow may sway me towards calm rather than calamity next time the weather drops and water vapor starts freezing together into ice crystals. The first is this beautiful thought from a friend, that snow is the gift of winter. It is as though winter realizes that it has left us all with a lot of darkness and bare branches and so snow comes along, glaringly white, reflecting light, and clinging to the trees. It even urges us outside to play when it is really far to cold to venture out without good cause. The weather of winter solves the problems of winter weather to some extent.

Today came my second awakening to the possible beauty of snow. As I was walking to work, I noticed the flakes falling on my gloves were not just clumps of frozen water, as snow sometimes is. Instead, each flake was the intricate symmetrical structure that inspires us to fold and cut paper into elaborate six-sided creations. Some flakes looked like spiderwebs, some like extravagant Stars of David, some like confetti snowflakes, some like furry moth antennae tied together. Each was beautiful. I stared at my hands the whole trip. I held my hands out and up and expected something to fall into them from above for the first time in ages. I was happy for what I caught, I let go of what I missed, I didn't grieve as each flake melted.

When snow falls next and sticks to the roads, I may still curse it. But after today I will use it also as a reminder of being mindful, of nature's intricacies, of heaven's blessings, of light coming in dark times, of being at peace in one place, of neighbor's sharing space, of strangers helping a passer-by whose car got stuck in the slush.

A Word from Rebecca

2008-08-10T22:45:00.000-07:00

Another bit about the Olympics, this by Rebecca Solnit in Orion Magazine (July/August 2008)

"Bodies in peak condition performing with everything they've got are images of freedom, as are pristine landscapes like Yosemite and the Tetons. But the reality of freedom only exists when these phenomena aren't deployed to cover up other bodies that are cringing, starving, bleeding, or dying, other places that are clearcut, strip-mined, and contaminated. Television coverage of the summer Olympics probably won't cut away from those sleek athletes to the charred bodies of massacred villagers and the anguished faces of young gang-rape victims in Darfur, or the bloodied heads of young monks and uncounted corpses and prisoners in Burma and Tibet. But the associations between the two are crucial to our sense of compassion, and of what it means to be a part of a global community."

Read the whole article here: http://www.orionmagazine.org/index.php/articles/article/3058

Why I Won't Be Watching

2008-08-10T21:33:00.000-07:00

Trying to be thoughtful in the sense of thinking deeply and choosing consciously, can make a person something of a jerk. For example, I decided, after watching the documentary "Blue Vinyl" about the production of vinyl siding, to be more assertive in avoiding the use of products that are toxic or contain toxins. But then, whenever I noticed a friend's polished toenails, I both envied and condemned their freedom of mind to have painted nails without a second thought or insidious guilt. Needless to say, a good friend neither envies nor condemns her friends.

Similarly, I've decided to not watch the Beijing Olympics. In fact, I've signed a pledge as a supporter of the U.S. Campaign for Burma (http://uscampaignforburma.org/index.php). I thought that it would be a simple step to take since my apartment does not have a television. But my friends and family members have t.v.'s and are quite excited about the Olympics, not without reason. There is a lot of beauty involved in the Olympics-- a lot of talent honed by hard work, community amongst athletes, and barriers overcome by perseverance.

But there are also things that upset me about the Olympics-- the amount of money spent on ceremonies and on television ads, the band-aids to cover up problems that deserve real solutions (bans on driving in Beijing to lessen the city's smog levels; really?), the mask that nations put up to suggest that we're getting along when there is very little true effort to resolve differences between countries, the support for a government that limits its own people's freedoms and supports repressive regimes in other places.

Yet I am not convinced that by not watching, I am making any sort of a difference. I feel more like I am making of myself a nuisance, one who won't spend an evening with friends appreciating what is good about sports, celebrations, China, life. I've come to believe, though, that often there is good amidst the bad but it doesn't mean that we accept what is offered. Instead we push for a better, a more beautiful alternative: playing sports rather than watching, learning about Chinese culture and history in our own communities, or starting conversations about important global issues and the roles we can play as individuals in realizing solutions.

Welcoming Myself Back

2008-05-02T22:43:00.001-07:00

I've decided to start recording some thoughts again, if merely because the skill of writing is an important part of literacy (I'm working in education and learning that things that apply to the way I teach kids apply equally (or should) to the ways in which I live, i.e. if I think my kids should be reading and writing for their minds' sakes, I should do the same for my mind's sake).

Also, I may yet have some thoughts or stories worth sharing, even if I'm not living as an expat adventurer. We'll see.

I started by posting an entry from Thanksgiving time (see Produce Story below), but there's more to come. I've been thinking a lot about the production and consumption of stuff and stories surrounding that are in no small supply when you live in the U.S. I'll save that for next time. Also, I've been working with kids, studying composting and Spanish, finally digging in some dirt, and I've just passed the quarter century mark, all of which are things from which musings may arise, desiring to be expressed. Until then, peace.

Stories Speak Louder...

2007-12-10T11:31:00.000-08:00

An exerpt from "Saying Grace" by Barbara Kingsolver (in Small Wonder)

Imagine that you come from a large family in which one brother ended up with a whole lot more than the rest of you. Sometimes it happens that way, the luck falling to one guy who didn't do that much to deserve it. Imagine his gorgeous house on a huge tract of forests, rolling hills, and fertile fields. Your other relatives have decent places with smaller yards, but yours is mostly dust. Your lucky brother eats well, he has meat every day-- in fact, let's fact it, he's corpulent, and so are his kids. At your house, meanwhile, things are bad: Your kids cry themselves to sleep on empty stomachs. Your brother must not be able to hear them from the veranda where he dines, because he throws away all the food he can't finish. He will do you this favor: He's made a TV program of himself eating. If you want, you can watch it from your house. But you can't have his food, his house, or the car he drives around in to view his unspoiled foests and majestic purple mountains. The rest of the family has noticied that all his driving is kicking up dust, wrecking not only the edges of his property but also their less pristine backyards and even yours, which was dust to begin with. He's dammed the river to irrigate his fields, so that only a trickle reaches your place, and it's nasty. You're beginning to see that these problems are deep and deadly, that you'll be the first to starve, and the others will follow. The family takes a vote and agrees to do a handful of obvious things that will keep down the dust and clean the water-- all except Fat Brother. He walks away from the table. He says God gave him good land and the right to be greedy.

Another Produce Story

2007-11-26T16:53:00.000-08:00

After work the other day, I walked to Pike Place Market. One of the highlights of my job, besides the people I work with and the people with whom I work (aka clients and co-workers, respectively), is that I can walk to work from home, to home from work, to Pike Place Market or the waterfront or Elliott Bay or Uwajimaya during my breaks. Lovely.

This day, I wasn't walking just for the joy of walking, though it is and was a joy. No, I needed to buy produce for my contribution to the family Thanksgiving feast, and I hoped to find some that would be local and sustainably grown so that I can one day meet Barbara Kingsolver and Wendell Berry and look them in the eye.

Happily, it being Wednesday, and not quite winter, a few local organic farmers had driven from their farms into the city so that I could ask them what kohlrabi was and how to cook it, how it was different than jicama and turnips, etc. (also, I suppose, so that I could buy the things of which we talked). We also chatted about CSAs, local restaurants buying from local farmers, and if I could volunteer at their farms in exchange for produce. As part of this last thread of conversation came the dreaded question: do you have any experience?

I have a strong interest in farming/gardening, but like my interests baking and backpacking, sewing and working in the non-profit world, I haven't had enough time or get-up to let experience come alongside fascination. Ridiculous as it is to believe that urban gardening can change the world for the better without ever having had an urban garden, I do believe and have not been. One thing about me particularly and people in general that has and will always be true is that we are all blessed with a titch of the ridiculous.

Ashamedly, I told the man I didn't have any experience to offer him. And a wondrous thing happened: he reacted with excitement, saying there's nothing better than watching someone experience for the first time the seed-to-plant miracle that is farming. My source of shame became something to be celebrated, my inexperience became a gift; I would not be a burden to be dealt with but would come with an offering, with new eyes that could remind the experienced ones how fantastic everything was before it became just familiar.

Is this something we can offer to each other more often? Can we learn to rejoice in things that the world has taught us to regret or to snub: hopefulness when cynicism proves how much we know about how the world works; the ability to be at peace with rest when being busy proves how useful and popular we are; generosity when resources are tight and best hoarded; a gray understanding when black and white are so much easier to live in?

Peace.

The Wonder, post-script

2007-10-20T15:38:00.000-07:00

I am not entirely sure that people will be as struck as I by the co-op man's quote, so I was happy to have run across this quote the other day and am happy now to share it with you, my one or two blog readers. It is from Mother Teresa, whose profundity is undebateable, and seems to express the same sentiment that I appreciated in the other words:

"God doesn't ask us to win. He asks us to try."

So, there it is, my second shout-out to trying-- to the fact that it is important to _______ (e.g. to recycle, speak, smile, walk) no matter how many times people tell you what you already know (e.g. that saving that one can isn't going to make a difference in the grand scheme of things). I'm nearly convinced now myself.

The wonder of co-ops

2007-10-07T00:29:00.000-07:00

"One wonder?" you wonder. "How could she choose just one to celebrate?"

Really, I'm just saving other wonders for other days, although I'll give a little shout out right now to the joy of shopping in a bulk section and scooping your own flour/spice/snack/tea from a bin amongst an excitingly vast row of bins. Today, though, I'm going to focus on the wonder of who you'll meet in a Madison Market or PCC, that you maybe wouldn't meet at a Safeway or QFC, and what inspiring words said person might say...

The other day, I stopped by a store (indeed, a co-op) to pick up some fruit, etc. to restock my various food shelves (p.s. I'm trying to buy new edibles only as I eat the old-- not an easy thing to do turns out; sometimes you want a new box (or bulk-foods bag, as the case may be) of cereal before you finish what you have).

After wandering a while and sampling some soup, I ended up standing in the produce section, weighing and weighed down by my options, desires, and knowledge. I really wanted apples, they being my favorite food, and maybe my favorite fruit (I have yet to be convinced that if they are the one, they must be the other...). This being the U.S., land of endless choice, there were many varieties available-- some more local, others more tasty, some more organic, others more pricey. I wanted the Braeburn, but also have the character flaw (common, I think, among many of us) of being drawn to the cheapest grocery option. I knew buying organic was important for the land where the apples were grown (and maybe, but less importantly, better for my own health), but buying local would lessen my ever-oversized, much-talked-about carbon footprint. What was I to do?

The point of this story is not that I ended up getting local (yay!), organic (yay!) Granny Smith (hmm...), but that while I stood there pondering, I noticed another shopper also staring heavily at apples. I made eye contact and he said doggedly, humorously, and profoundly, "I'm just trying to do the right thing."

In retrospect, I think he meant he was trying to shop according to his wife's wishes-- to pick out apples that she'd like. But I was so struck by the simple fact expressed in that moment that it is a burden to know what the right thing is and then to convince yourself that it is worth doing; it is comicly ironic that doing the right thing is so damn hard; and it is profound that people keep trying to do the right thing, in matters as small as apple-buying, in spite of the challenges leveled against them.

Anyway, I am encouraged several weeks later when I think of this man and his attempt at choosing rightly, his self-grace at knowing he might choose wrongly despite his efforts, and his choosing to go on as best he could. May we all do the same.

Prayer

2007-10-07T00:28:00.000-07:00

O thing that consoles.
How clumsily I thank you.
~Everett (The Brothers K)

God

2007-10-07T00:24:00.000-07:00

God is a gift giver. I stupidly keep forgetting and needing reminders, and receiving them, undeservedly.

Random Seattle Thoughts

2007-09-21T16:00:00.000-07:00

While there are admittedly days that I would like to return to Laos for the friends, the food, the warmth (who would've thought? but it is so cold here already and Fall has only just begun), the scenery, the music of the language (not the music itself, mind you), etc. I am happy to say that Seattle wins my heart over more often than not.

For one, I've found a job working as a "residential counselor" with the Downtown Emergency Service Center, i.e. I'm working (on-call) at a homeless shelter in Seattle. The full-time staff handle bed assignments and other matters of consequence. My duties are serving coffee, cleaning doorhandles, learning how to play cribbage, and finding some dominoes so I can play that as well during my "floating" shift (when I wander and talk to people). Yesterday was my first day and it went smoothly, save for a couple tense moments and the guilty use of a styrofoam cup, and I am excited for my next shift-- the bus ride down, the entering of another world when I turn off of 3rd through the shelter doors, the excitement and monotony of my responsibilities, the walk home through the international district.

And again, I went on a run today (a rarer occurrence than I'd like to admit, in all honesty) and it was blissful. The act of running was itself surprisingly nice-- my lungs didn't ache like last time and my body seemed happy to move and I felt no self-inflicted or race-preparing pressure to run a certain distance or speed or route-- but the fact that I was running in Seattle where it smelled like Fall and like Sweet Alyssum, where it was sunnily warm but with hints of coolness and clouds, where there were trails and parks that I didn't have to drive to reach, where there were hills but none that daunted me...

All that is to say that I'm happy to have found the work that I have in Seattle, that running and Seattle sometimes go perfectly together, that Seattle and autumn sometimes go perfectly together, that doing something because you want to do it without have any other "good" reason is a very good thing, and that there is truth in this sense that I got from The Brothers K that life is ugly and painful and ridiculous and unjust but still somehow beautiful and good and something to find joy in and be grateful for.

On Offsetting

2007-08-29T19:37:00.000-07:00

Here's the thing about life: there's some sort of perfect balance to be sought for it, but it's the sort of balance that you don't really know is there until it's gone and it actually is in almost constant flux. Like in an ecological system, say, there's a balance of predators and prey and you don't know quite what the numbers should be, but you know when there are too many wolves running around Yellowstone or too many deer in your backyard. Ideally, things are left to themselves and they balance themselves out, but they often swing out of balance again. Not to mention that things are rarely ideal.
All of that is a prelude to the fact that I have been thinking lately about justice versus mercy and wondering where we find a balance between the two. With the help of friends, I've been seeing lately how often we (people of privilege or power, I think I mean) lean away from justice. For example, we try to work within an unjust power structure (our economic system) in some token way (buying products that are the color red from which some small donation will be made to AIDS projects) to do what we hope will be good (give money to organizations that will use it well, hypothetically). Or we buy carbon credits to offset the carbon from our airplane flights.
I'm not saying that we shouldn't find small ways in which to work. And I'm going to say that we work in small ways because we don't know the proper thing to do on a larger scale-- what real justice would look like. I'm going to say, moreover, that we do small things not because we are too lazy or comfortable to do the larger things (I'm rather sure that's not a safe assumption), but because we think that they are merciful/loving things to do-- the little guy gets taken care of while no harm befalls the big guy or anyone who has some finger in his/her pot either, i.e. someone gets food for the night but nobody's feelings get hurt about why a man might be homeless in the first place and what your role in that cause might be.
But, especially as the Church, especially as people who like to quote or sing about Micah 6:8, maybe we need to think a bit more about balance, about doing justly AND loving mercy. Not that we stop loving (recognizing/honoring the humanity) of those on the upper side of the power struggle (because then we'd have to stop showing mercy to ourselves) but that we don't do that to the neglect of seeking justice. Who's to say that letting people be comfortable where they are is an act of love in any case?
I'm not sure what this means for me, as I come back from Laos and decide what to do next, or for those around me, as I figure out the balance and surely swing too wide one way and then the other. But I just wanted to share my thoughts, jumbled though they may be. Feel free to share yours.

On Coming Home

2007-07-23T12:31:00.001-07:00

Not an easy thing, this coming home business. A bit exhausting physically and emotionally to say good-byes and then to travel for 29 hours and arrive in a world that is 12 hours delayed, tens of degrees cooler, several shades less vibrant, with rules to the road, and (as yet) no Lao language to be heard, no sinhs to be seen (the traditional Lao skirt), and no sticky rice to be eaten.

Not to say that I don't appreciate cars that stay in their lanes, Life cereal and French toast for breakfast, blueberries and cherries for snacktime, and conversations in English. All these things and the anticipation of seeing friends and family after leaving this re-entry retreat at MCC's offices in Pennsylvania make my heart glad. The cool breeze last night was enough to make me laugh happily... but it is always hard to leave a place where you've gotten to know new people, new things, and a new side of yourself.

A friend ended their blog after leaving Laos. I don't think I'll follow suit. I imagine there might be a few adventures yet ahead even though I no longer live in a foreign country, so when there are stories or insights that come along and ask to be shared, I'll honor their requests. I imagine that as I hear from the other fifty people who are coming back from their years in Asia, Africa, Europe, and Latin America, there might be some remarkable tales of how God has been working and how we've been trying to see and participate in that work. I've already heard of health lost and regained (more or less, some bodies are still fighting off their parasites...), of cultural mishaps and lessons, language limitations and acquisitions, the adventures and mundane moments of living overseas. I'm looking forward to more.

Peace,
Renee

What I'll Miss (Abbreviated)

2007-07-18T05:14:00.000-07:00

I had grand plans to make a list of the many things I will miss and won't miss when I'm back in America, but now I've run out of time and have to run off to do trivial things like pack my bags. Maybe once I'm home, I'll reflect more, but for now I'll say what comes most quickly to mind...

-- small surprises, like buying yogurt in un-American flavors like coconut and grape

-- never being far from a repair shop so that when the chain drops on my motorbike or my tire goes flat, I don't have to push it far to a kind man who'll tighten this or patch that, usually for 50 cents

-- the joy of coolness when you are really hot, whether from stepping into air-conditioning, from being blown by the wind as you drive your motorbike, the cold water of your shower or (better yet) from a river or swimming pool

-- my students, who claim to love me despite lessons that are a stone's throw from smooth and polished and especially those at Nita who loved me despite my inability to communicate in the classroom or out of it

-- the Lao language, which sounded like noise to me for the first month, but in which I can now hear some music (and of which I can now make some sense)

-- my co-workers at Nita who helped teach me Lao and take me to Lao festivals, who shared with me their favorite foods, sometimes sacrificing a chile or two for my sake, who knew how hard it was to teach 60 students in one class but did it gracefully

-- Lao food and the way that you eat it with your hands and never eat it alone but all gather together and share from one or two plates, one or two sticky rice baskets; all that is worth the fact that you're never entirely sure what animal or what part of it you are eating or where the plant life was gathered from

-- my fellow volunteers at MCC and ARDA who are lovely, in a word, and from whom I learned to love coffee and to trust more faithfully in God and to know Laos more deeply; who I also had a lot of fun times and good talks with

-- my motorbike

Winding Down

2007-07-10T00:58:00.000-07:00

It is hard to believe but I have less than two weeks left. You'd think that that would inspire me to do all those things that I've been meaning to do but happily I think that that list is relatively small. And I'll get to those few things next week...
In the meantime, I'm filling my time with lessons and lesson planning-- a morning and evening class give me only an awkward midday break. My three morning students are quite brilliant and we've enjoyed most of the classic language learning games out there. My five regular evening students (adults) act as though they appreciate my rambling attempts to explain English grammar and business writing, even though I lack a bit of expertise in both of those areas. I love to read their compositions and see what funny phrases pop into their writing and I'm glad that I can chat with them in English before and after class.
I've also been saying a lot of good-byes. Most of the MCC volunteers have left the country, either for brief visits to family at home or, in the case of Ben and Alisa, to resettle themselves in Canada. Many other expats have also headed home for the summer, so I've been more than busy with final outings (a lovely weekend visiting caves in Vong Vieng) and farewell meals. Happily, there's a good community at the school where I work now and the dorm where I live now, so I'll not feel too lonely. Plus there's relationships in Thong Pong, where I taught all year. It was a hard year working and living there, but it is a lot of fun visiting at this point.
If I sound happy, it's because I am. I can look back on my year with peace that the hard parts are over, with gratefulness for all the goodnesses, and with joy at what lies ahead.

Six Weeks of a New Life

2007-06-20T22:41:00.001-07:00

A week ago Sunday, I moved into a new building in a new village (this one within Vientiane's city limits, if there are such marked boundaries to the city) just down the street from my new job at ARDA Language Center.
   I am still teaching English as I was at Nita School, but in a whole new way: with small classes and lots of resources/materials/support and with a need to relearn lesson planning and teacher-student interaction. I have two classes, each 1.5 hours five days a week. My morning class is a beginner's english class with two (!) pre-teen girls and in the evening I teach eight adults in an advanced business writing class.  It is fun to be able to know my student's names, to play games in the morning class, and to converse with my evening class. It is tiring to be designing worthy lessons and then to teach then and to follow up, but I'm happy to have discovered that I do, in fact, like teaching.
  I am still living with Lao people but my new housemates are Lao young people who are studying at ARDA's Skills Center (the men study electricity and the women study housekeeping; when they graduate they are prepared to find work in these fields-- not anyone's dream jobs, perhaps, but stable employment with relatively good pay). We have separate dorm rooms and share a common kitchen and living area. We share meals when we are around at the same time and there are occasional group bike rides or puzzles
or ping pong games.
   Many fellow volunteers are going home for the summer, so I'm also in the midst of saying good-byes just as I say all these hellos to new students and co-teachers. It's a balancing act that I haven't quite perfected, so I'm slightly off-balance (perhaps I am perpetually so). But the last five weeks of my time here looks to be full of hope and new adventures to build on the old.
Peace,
Renee

Photos?

2007-05-31T01:55:00.000-07:00

I'm sorry. I can't seem to post pictures so here is a link to Phyllis' blog where she has posted some lovely ones from our trip... http://www.mangorains.blogspot.com/

A Week's End In Bolikhamxay

2007-05-31T01:25:00.000-07:00

With things slowing down at Nita School (all the testing was done and teachers were coming in just to come in... no, no there were still some grades to post and some rooms to clean), I took the end of last week to visit Ben and Alisa MacBride-Smith, MCC volunteers in Bolikhamxay Province. Phyllis, the MCC Country representative, and I rode the bus out to the town nearest their village (Hoi Khun), with Lao music videos playing for our entertainment, as if watching the passing countryside with its forests, rice fields, villages, and former forests (there's a lot of development along the roadway) were not enough.
   The next day, Alisa (who is working at the district health center, helping them organize health education outreach) and her co-workers allowed Phyllis and I to come along as they visited two villages upriver. We were up at 5:30 am to go, so the weather was still cool as we rode in a boat for 1.5 hours up the Nam Ngiap river, admiring tropical forests along the river's edge and the peace of the river itself. At each village, the health team weighed babies and children (more dramatic an event than you might think), taught the villagers how to make soy milk (involves straining the beans out after they've been cooked, mashed, and soaked in water, then adding sugar and boiling; not as tricky as I'd imagined), and spoke about nutrition and sanitation (the latter topic being the focus of an entertaining tale about a boy finding a place to go to the bathroom-- the woods and fields turn out to be bad options). It was a blessing to see the natural beauty of Laos during our river ride, but also to be welcomed by the people in each village with shy smiles and a meal or drink.
   I stayed in Hoi Khun for the weekend, visiting another village the next day (this one just a short motorbike ride away, unfortunately :)), learning the art of bread-making from Alisa, and enjoying the slow pace of life by reading, swimming in the river, watching Pirates II so I'll be ready for the next one when it comes this way, etc.
  I made it home on Sunday and have since enjoyed a few slow days at the school. It is odd to be at Nita without the kids who bring it to life in all its noise, joy, and bustle so I will be glad to see some kids return on Friday, as we celebrate Children's Day. Then on Sunday I'll cook a farewell meal for my host family because the following Monday, I will move to a new place. I'll be staying at a skills center near to the school (ARDA Language School) at which I will teach for my remaining time in Laos, which is
now just under two months (!). I am hopeful for this final stage of my time here, to be in a new community and at a new job,
still near enough to maintain those relationships that I've already been given. I'll let you know how it goes.

Two Months

2007-05-19T22:55:00.000-07:00

As of tomorrow (May 21st), I will have only two more months before my I leave Laos and head to Akron for a re-entry retreat before flying again to Seattle. What is it about human nature that it is always unsettled by the prospect of
change?
I am eager tobe with friends and family again, to see the mountains and the Sound,
to welcome the sun (here the sun is just too hot- there's no such thing as a sunny day when you
can also see your breath), to not feel muted by my inability to speak the language of everyone around me... But of course, I'm at the same time hesitant to say goodbye to the community I have been given here and the beauty and peace of this place.
  In any case, life moves ahead without regard to how I'd like it to proceed or stop proceeding, so I go along with it. There is but one more week at school for me and it will be taken up with Semester exams for the secondary classes (the primary classes had exams last week and I'm happy to say that some students seemed to have some grasp of some English; that's not a huge success but it is something worth smiling about) and then grading and compiling grades. I won't play much of a part in all this but I'll be around. That's kind of my preferred role, as I'm not a terribly good test-watcher or grade-compiler in this system, but do like to chat if someone has the desire to speak very slow Lao.
   My evenings and weekends have been busy of late, going to dinners or birthday parties or other odd and assorted events with Lao co-workers or with expat friends in town. For example, last Sunday I went to a Rocket Festival with several teachers.  At said festival, people brought huge rockets, up to 12 Kg or so I heard, and launched them into the sky above the village's rice fields. In return, the sky will send down rain on these same rice fields, as it has indeed already started to do. Not a drizzling rain, mind you, like Seattle often sees, but a pouring rain that you run from and watch from an overhang, that leaves lake-like puddles on the dirt roads and drips into your classrooms, that empties itself and then moves on. I quite like the rain, but then it is only just the beginning of the rainy season. I may yet change my mind the day I am out on my motorbike without a poncho or overhang to protect me.
   My summer plans are a bit up in the air yet, although they will almost certainly still involve teaching English. Maybe I will stay at Nita School or I may work at a language school in town.  I hope to travel a bit more around the country, if just to see a few friends who aren't
living in Vientiane but maybe I will also have the chance to see a few more MCC projects in action. I'll let you know when I know myself.
Peace,
Renee

Pi Mai Pictures

2007-05-06T00:35:00.000-07:00

Road water duels (above) and a wet-clothed and sun-hatted me with Sonxay at a riverside festival (below).

New years

2007-05-06T00:04:00.000-07:00

Recently, both Laos and I have celebrated new years. April 13-15th (and a bit beyond, for good measure), the country celebrated Pi Mai Lao (the Lao New Year based on the Buddhist calender). Like all good celebrations, this one involved a bit of the sacred and the profane, as well as a few days off from work and school. Traditionally, based on my observations (I haven't researched it as I'd intended), the coming of the new year is a time of starting afresh, so people visit up to nine temples to wash the Buddhas and other statues with a special water and to receive blessings. Some people travel to all 9 temples in one day-- a marathon that my host family undertook. Other people, like the teachers I went with, visited several one day and made it to more the next day if it was possible. Aside from these religious celebrations, there was general revelry which involved a lot of water and music, food and BeerLao.
It is the hottest time of the year, so it is admittedly a good time for a water fight, but I have never seen a whole city (or country, since the fun continued outside of the city and in other towns) so committed to one activity. People waited along the roadside with buckets or hoses or or waterguns or bags filled with water to splash or spray passing motorists. Trucks loaded with people and the means to splash traveled around soaking the roadside partiers, other truck-fulls, and passerbys. I enjoyed the three days of energy and coolness in the midst of a heat wave, but was careful about what I took with me when going out and a little intimidated to ride my motorbike. I also thought the colored water, baby powder, and greasy face paint were less fun weapons for the fight, but was not hit by these things too often.
I spent one day of Pi Mai in Luang Prabang with a friend, Annalise, alternatively getting soaked and trying to dry out; the next day I watched the festivities in Vientiane, walking through some of them with my swimsuit under my quickdry clothes, which never got a chance to prove themselves as they were constantly rewet; finally, I went out to the countryside for a day, for a riverside carnival, a slow meal of grilled fish, papaya salad, sticky rice, and lettuce wraps with relatives and friends, and a long wet ride. School was still closed for a day or so, so I took some time to rest up and dry out.
A week later, it was time for me to celebrate another new year as my birthday came along. I joyfully receieved wishes from home, was fed a dinner and cake by my MCC family, and partied with teachers from the school-- once taking them cake and snacks to share during our morning recess and later that day being taking to a riverside restaurant for dinner and more cake. I felt well-loved and hope to continue this my 24t year with similarly good community, food, and adventure.

An Afternoon

2007-04-22T06:18:00.000-07:00

After resting at home-- maybe I'll snack if there were slim pickings at school, maybe I'll read or journal or listen to music or just watch the time pass-- I walk back to school.  As I said, it's a short walk but it is hot enough of late that I'm usually
sweating by the time I reach school-- even when I carry an umbrella to provide myself with shade for coolness and anti-tanning purposes (it does not work terrible well as I get hot and seem to be tanning in any case, which would be exciting if I weren't in a country where whitening products are sold rather than self-tanning lotion). The bell rings as I arrive (or close to my arrival) and I go to class. My afternoons generally have a class, a recess, and an office hour unless some special event occurs (a teacher's volleyball game or a monk coming to teach about morality).
All the teachers stay at school for a half hour or so after the final bell while we wait for parents to come and retrieve their kids or for extra courses to begin. It seems like every teacher teaches in the evening and possibly on the weekends to add to their paychecks. Nita is a private school and the teachers are paid better than at a public school, so I hear, but everyone still wants to supplement their incomes. Understandably, since even with the supplement I haven't heard of a teacher making any more than $70 per month (my monthly stipend through MCC is $66). Most make less. I do not teach extra hours. When I first came, it seemed like doing anything extra would be the end of me as adjusting took
all of my energy.  Now I could perhaps do more, but am still happy to go home and shower and sit by a fan.
My evenings are not terribly exciting, but I enjoy them. I will either stay home to read or think about lessons or do other solitary time-passing activities and to eat with my host family (or before or after them, if our schedules are off), or I will get on my motorbike and head into town.  I try to spend most of my nights at home, but it is nice to get away for a swim (getting in a pool is magical after a hot day) and then yoga, or a study of Corinthians. Occassionally, I'll visit or have dinner with friends. Regardless, I try to cool down-- a cold shower or wet pajamas-- and get into bed around 10 pm (give or take an hour) so I'm ready for the next day.
There's a picture of my week. Perhaps in time I can give you an idea of my weekends.

Just Another Day

2007-04-17T22:26:00.000-07:00

So I haven't had many typical days lately. In late March, my parents came for a week to see where I am and go someplace new with me. In the beginning of April, a friend who I met while studying abroad in Uganda (Helen from the UK) came to visit for three lovely days. Then Annalise Nordtvedt, who also studied in Uganda and at Seattle Pacific, came for about ten days. And now there is a holiday for Lao New Year.  I will share these stories soon, I hope.
But for now, I wanted to explain an average weekday in my world.
7:00-- I wake up. I used to get up early to run or walk or stretch, at least a couple of days a week. Now I am too lazy or tired or its too hot or a combination of all of those things or something else. I think we all know how it is to not want to get up to exercise, right? I sometimes shower, if I've had a hot and restless night (it's always a hot night, although someone advised me that falling asleep with a wet sheet or tshirt or head can help dramatically, so now I can fall asleep a little easier, but only restlessness makes a shower necessary).
I do getting ready-ish things that seem to make time go too quickly. I drink tea or coffee (I do like it now, although generally weaker and sweeter than a true coffee drinker might do), eat rice or a baguette with shredded papaya, mystery meats, and various sauces (actually quite nice), and head to school a minute or two late, as a general rule.
8:00-- The school bell rings and class begins... or will within the next ten minutes. Unless it is Monday in which case we'll do flag raising and exercises (touch your toes sorts of things; the vice principal tried to switch it to a cardiovascular dance routine but it didn't work out... yet). I either go to class or have free time in the teacher's office/library. If I go to class, a co-teacher (Toy) and I try to figure out if either person has anything planned. If so (sometimes I have a game or worksheet or he has a game or song), we try it out. Often times, the class becomes chaotic if we don't stick to rote teaching, but I still think that it is worth a try. I think I said a while ago that I switched to smaller groups to teach. That caused much confusion and I'm back in the classroom with all 30-50ish students, deciding on a day to day basis whether I'm up for playing a game with all 40 kids or whether
it might be wise to just write the lesson on the board today.
10ish-- Recess time. The kids yell joyously and run into the school yard, which doesn't have much more than a dirt yard, a volleyball court, and some trees. Many buy snacks to eat. Others play games, in spite of the heat, although when it is truly hot, they'll play more in the shade. The boys seem to have many games involving marbles. The girls have long bands made of connected rubber bands that they do jumping tricks with that I never have nor ever will be able to do. Sometimes what seems to be tag also appears, in various forms (on one leg or what have you). Some eat then play or vice versa.
10:15-- Another class session begins (the sessions are 1 hour and 45 minutes, give or take). I teach or rest. If I do have office hours, it means that I'm hanging out with whatever other teachers also have a break.  If the teacher speaks English, we chat in English.  If they don't, we
exchange a few words in Lao or many words, depending on how patient and eager they are to communicate.  With some people, I feel like we could converse about anything, even though
my vocabulary is admittedly small. With others, I feel the smallness of my language skills. I'm not sure what makes the difference. If we don't chat together, teachers flip through old magazines or the library books (mostly in English, which is nice for me but not for most people who use the library unless they just like pictures). Sometimes I'll write a letter or in my journal.
12:00-- Time for lunch. I do like the other teachers do and eat with the students, as in all the students put their food out to share together
and we share too. I've gotten to try an enormous variety of Lao foods this way, some I'd rather not have but didn't know any better. Most lunches I'll just have sticky rice and various grilled meats, maybe a bite of noodle soup. Sounds strange, maybe, but it is lovely and communal and I haven't yet gotten sick from it or of it. It would be perfect if I could not just eat with the students but chat with them while I'm doing it. Still, I enjoy this time. Then, I go home (a very short walk away) to rest for an hour or so.
  I've got to go. I'll give you the afternoon routine later. Peace, Renee

It's All Who You Know...

2007-03-18T02:08:00.000-07:00

Here's a few photos of people I work (and play) with here in Laos...

Some of my fellow teachers took me on a weekend trip to a temple overlooking the Mekong River. Here we are: Sonxay, next to me, works with me at Nita School. He's holding his daughter and standing next to his wife. Khamphet's wife is on the right. He is another co-worker of mine and took this photo for us. About 100 of us from Nita School took a field trip. We didn't make it to the waterfall we hoped to see and swim beneath, but wound up at a different temple also overlooking the Mekong River. This is a small group of the field trippers-- Sonxay and Panmaha are P.4 teachers. The students are all in P.4, one of my favorite age groups at the school.

My MCC Laos family, or the foreign members of it, all went on a retreat together to Vang Vieng for a weekend. We don't often all spend time together since Heidi and Micah, Ben and Alisa live and work several hours outside of Vientiane in opposite directions of each other (Heidi and Alisa are both standing behind me and near-ish their husbands-- Micah in tan on the right and Ben in orange in the back). I am glad when we do get to visit each other, to offer support or to hear what others are doing or going through, to share a meal...

Second Semester

2007-03-16T03:28:00.001-07:00

A month or so into second semester already and I haven't told you how it's going? Sorry about that. It's not that I'm terribly busy or couldn't make it to an internet cafe. I'm not sure what the reason is, so I won't make one up but instead I'll fill you in on some going-ons.

1.) I readjusted my schedule at the school just a bit so that I could take small groups of students out to study with-- 15 or 20 instead of the 30-60 that are in the classroom. I'm a big fan of small groups and feel like it is possible that my students may learn something this semester and may enjoy it because we can play games and actually practice speaking together and all without too much chaos. It is, however, exhausting to play games for hours (who knew) and I've struggled with having only a shared space to use for the small groups. So, this week, we did worksheets and games in class and it went surprisingly well. Maybe I'll rotate between different teaching techniques.

2.) I went to Thailand last weekend, which sounds like a big deal, but it was really only a two hour drive. Still, it was a good break to get a change of scenery, to eat soft-serve ice cream (DQ hasn't made it to Laos), and to visit a World Heritage sight where they found some ancient pottery-- evidence of an ancient civilization in SE Asia. The history of the world is fascinating, or what we can piece together of it with all our scientific methods and inferences. I've been out of the world of science for a while, but it is remarkable that we can have an idea of how people formed their pots, annealed their metals, cared for their teeth, etc. based on testing things we find all these years later.

3.) It was also good to come back from Thailand and its loud malls and chain restaurants to the peace of Vientiane. Sure, things get loud when people have a party (huge speakers are set up, perhaps so the whole neighborhood can hear the music and announcements, perhaps so that people don't have to make awkward small talk, I'm not sure), but there is a peace even about this capital city that is nice to return to.

4.) I was sick for a time with some stomach trouble. It wasn't pleasant but could have been much worse and the medicine I had handled things quite well. Besides which, it seems downright lucky, really, to have been here for six months before having any illness to speak of. To assume I should be able to go the whole way without need of bedrest would have been quite arrogant.

5.) Women's Day was celebrated on March 8th. It was a national holiday, in some places only for the women but at my school we all got a break. The day before we had a celebration at the school. I'm not sure that it was related but there was a singing competition in the morning, with students dressing in traditional costume and performing Lao songs, occasionally
with backup fauners (traditional dancers) adding to the fun. Then, in the afternoon, there was a volleyball game and a meal
together. I didn't play in the competitive game, but hit the ball around a bit afterwards with
some students who were hanging out.

6.) The government has been responding to worries about avian flu by culling birds in the area. People often have chickens and ducks in their yards so government workers have been visiting neighbors quite diligently. Compensation is low-- half of what people would have gotten at the market for their animals, which could hit people who need this source of income quite hard. But hopefully these measures prevent any spread of the disease here in Laos.
I'll tell more tidbits another day soon, I hope. My parents will be here next week and surely tell their stories when they return to the U.S. so
you won't have to only rely on these few written words.

Peace,
Renee

2007-02-15T02:47:00.000-08:00

The sacred and mundane-- food and streets, temples and parking lots. And then there's the beach.

Time Flies...

2007-02-15T02:20:00.000-08:00

It is hard to believe that my last posts were about a long ago trip to Xieng Kuang. I have since spent a month at the school-- teaching, reviewing for semester exams, writing semester exams, grading semester exams. They are a big deal, these semester exams. But hopefully not the only way to measure my time here as I didn't particularly enjoy the hubbub and several of my classes did not fare particularly well. I think the tests were too difficult, to be fair, but also I think we need to change up the teaching style a little bit. I wouldn't mind God's help in making this change, so feel free to converse with Him about it for me. I've been discussing it with Him off and on for a while now and will have a meeting tomorrow at the school to discuss it with the other teachers and the school director.
One bright spot in all this exam-ness was some free class time (in which students could "research" or study for the upcoming tests). Some did study, some didn't, as would be the case in any classroom I can think of. A few came and chatted with me. It was lovely! We don't usually have time to build a bridge over our language gap, but for these few days we did. And during the grading, the students were already on break, so it was nice to be a part of the community of just teachers, even if I couldn't help fill out all the evaluation forms.
Another bright spot is that after exams, there is a break. So, last week, after an MCC retreat in touristy Vong Vieng (mostly a good chance to be cold (I do mean good, because now I am hot and reminiscing with myself about wearing that
hooded sweatshirt that will have to be packed away henceforth) and to talk as a team), I went to Thailand to explore the streets of Bangkok and the beaches of Ko Chang. The former are fascinating-- full of people, motorbikes, cars, and buses with street vendors selling tempting treats alongside shops and historic wats. And the malls of Bangkok are stunning. My host, Rita, without whom I would have been wandering aimlessly (I swear I had an aim in all my wandering), helped me also to appreciate all the design that is showcased amidst the overwhelming consumerism. And Ko Chang, for the brief time I was there, was a retreat. Clear, warm water; some good friends; dense forests (which I only saw from the beach but nevertheless appreciated); white sand. If only all that beauty didn't attract all those tourists. But then there wouldn't be that handy bus or ferry for transport or friendly strangers to help me figure the ferry and bus out.
Feel all caught up? If you want to hear about the sand igloo I tried to help build (what's a castle look like again? I forgot) or the meal I had in Chinatown or how starting school goes, write to me and I'll fill you in.
Peace,
Renee

Pictures of the Past

2007-02-15T02:10:00.000-08:00

The Plain of Jars is indeed a site of the past-- the jars, the bomb craters, etc., but I entitle these pictures this way only because it has been a month since I returned from this place. Sorry for the delay. Here's a few glimpses of that trip-- what we saw, and did, and ate.

Next Time...

2007-01-25T02:37:00.000-08:00

I'll add some pictures, I think. And stories of adventures around Vientiane.
Peace, Renee

Caves and Car Games

2007-01-21T20:16:00.000-08:00

We drove north to Sam Neua, the capital of Hua Phan province (everyone's got their Lao maps handy, I hope)-- the poorest province in Laos, I have read. It was an eight hour drive (12 by bus, which we luckily were not in) through twisty mountain roads. We stopped for lunch in a village, for fresh air, for views, for scenic bathroom breaks. We listened to the two tapes that Ben and Alisa had copied (alas, our truck, for all its wonder, did not have a CD player), chatted, and played some silly car games.

My favorite game was "Car Bingo" which wasn't Bingo-like, really, but merely involved trying to spot various agreed upon items before others did. These items included: bomb casings used in fencing or housing, terraced rice fields, a woman carrying a baby in a sling on the front, same but in a holder on the back, someone fishing in a river, someone bathing in a river, a happy old man riding on the back of a motorbike (Waking Ned Divine-style but clothed, of course), kids riding a homemade skateboard down the road, a woman with a baby tied on her back washing a water buffalo at the mountaintop village's water spigot (seen once, before it was a winning item, then placed on this list), an elephant, a monkey, and a poppy field (the latter three were never spotted).

Other sights that we saw that weren't part of the game included men carrying babies, group showers at the town spigot (everyone older than three bathes with a sihn wrapped around them so it's by no means indecent to all bathe together by the roadside like this), Hmong houses with their distinctive sun design above the door, the Hmong teenage courting game (the women dress up in their traditional clothes-- black with bright colored thread and silver coins-- and folk toss a ball back and forth, getting to know each other), women weaving, waterfalls, a pig tied to the back of a small bus, whole villages out making brooms from grasses along the road, homemade hydroelectric set-ups, beautiful mountains and valleys and forests... the list goes on. Since much of the trip was spent driving, I'm grateful that the drive was as full of things to see as it was.

In Sam Neua, we enjoyed our guesthouse and the riverside market. From there, we drove to Vieng Xai where the Lao Communist party worked and lived in hidden caves for 11 years, during the Indochina War. We toured the caves where the leaders stayed (from 1964 to 1975) and saw their meeting rooms, bedrooms, restrooms, kitchens, and emergency rooms (to go in if the caves were gassed). Beyond the four caves we saw are about a hundred more in which there were schools, hospitals, factories. Remarkable.

We ended our trip with a visit to the old capital of the district and a memorable 12 hour drive home on an unpaved road, on which we got lost, delivered a note from one village to another, lost our tire (retrieved and put it back on, happily enough), asked in almost every town to make sure we weren't getting lost again, and exclaimed excitedly at the site of less than 10 lights on a hillside, "Oh, that looks like the city [that we're looking for]." Funny how your ideas of what is city is can change in the course of a week. The next day, I took a bus from Ben and Alisa's village back to Vientiane to get ready for the upcoming week's work, sad to see a vacation end but glad to get on my motorbike and not back in a car for a while.

Traveling: Part 1

2007-01-12T20:12:00.000-08:00

Some may already know, but a week ago I returned from a week-long trip to the north-eastern provinces of Laos. I went with Ben and Alisa, an MCC couple working in Bolikhamxay (teaching English and doing health education (respectively)), and Ben's brother Ryan, visiting from Canada. We drove ourselves, in a truck borrowed from the MCC office. Many a time, as we passed various forms of public transportation or heard stories from other travelers, we said a little thanks for our own vehicle. It was a gift to be able to stop when we needed to stop, to have our own space, to go where we wanted to go. Anyway, here's a little summary of the trip...

I first spent a couple of days in the town of Vong Vieng, set amidst beautiful limestone karsts and on a river. The town is a bit overrun by tourists backpacking through SE Asia, but was a good place to rest for a few days. I spent a good deal of time with another MCC couple, Heidi and Micah, and their two-month old baby, Frances, reading and relaxing, trying to find a restaurant with a unique menu and without a television showing western sitcoms, enjoying the scenery, and people-watching. I learned not to order western food when there are no western cooks in sight, although it is interesting to see what the kitchen will make up for you; that Lonely Planet has a huge influence on the life of towns and villages; and that it takes work, maybe a little sacrifice, to travel thoughtfully-- aware and respectful of the life and lives that are around you, aware that you, because you are relativley monied (be you a backpacker or an upscale traveler), have power in a place where you don't live and in which you won't stay for long that should be wielded with care (and often isn't).

Ben, Alisa, and Ryan picked me up from Vong Vieng and we drove for six hours through mountains and small towns to the larger town of Phonsavan in Xieng Khouang province, an area heavily bombed by the U.S. during the Vietnam War (the U.S. was also involved in a "Quiet War" in Laos-- quiet in the sense that little mention of it was or has been made in the U.S. even while it made Laos one of the most heavily bombed countries in the world). There were up to 900 sorties into Laos each day so that 2 million tons of ordance were dropped on the country, along with herbicides and defoliants like Agent Orange. 10-30% of what was dropped is still unexploded, so that an NGO working in Laos estimates that a quarter of Lao villages are socio-economically affected by these unexploded ordances (UXOs or bombies). Imagine there are small bombs still in the ground of people's rice fields, in school playgrounds, alongside the road, that people may come across while working or playing. Imagine that some kids play with the small bombs, not knowing what they are, or that some people try to open them so that they can sell the metal. Hard to believe.

But also hard to ignore here. Evidence of the war is all around this area, from the Bomb BBQ where some locals were grilling meat, to Craters restaurant, the town's fancier dining establishment, to the MAG office, an NGO which does community education about UXOs, development work, and bomb clearing. Also, outside of town, one might see bomb craters or bomb casings being used for fences or stilts under houses.

In Ponsavan, walking between areas marked as safe by bomb clearance teams, we saw the Plain of Jars, sites with large, mysterious stone jars (no one is sure what they were for, although there are various hypotheses), visited some friends who had recently moved to the town, explored the market, snacked on food from Canada in between what came to be standard meals of noodle soup or rice/noodle dishes or eggs and bread, and found ourselves a cheap but clean guesthouse. We celebrated the New Year with our friends (a simple communion with blueberry yogurt drink in place of wine :) followed by "oilballs"-- a tasty Danish traditional New Year's food that are a bit like doughnut holes and sound more appealing when said in Danish) and some UNO in our guesthouse. The next day, we headed off towards Sam Neua.

I'm Back

2007-01-06T18:31:00.000-08:00

I don't have time to tell you about it just now, but I did want to let folks know that I have arrived safely back in Vientiane after a scenic and adventure-full tour of northeastern Laos. More to come...

Christmas in Laos

2006-12-26T00:58:00.000-08:00

The Christmas Eve service at a Lao Evangelical Church in Vientiane. I'm not the best photographer and this is not the best photo, but hum a little Joy to the World, synthesizer-style, as you imagine this joyful and pom-pom'ed dance taking place.

On Christmas morning, the MCC volunteers staying at the guesthouse had breakfast together-- eggs, bacon, toast, papaya. We also opened packages from home, or each other (the couples), received phone calls, and finished up or began our potluck contributions. I was just beginning to cook after breakfast, or just heading to the market to buy vegetables so it was a rush to finish before lunch. I haven't shopped in a market on Christmas Day before but the last minute cooking as a touch of familiarity for me. I'll learn one day.

We had a feast-- turkey, potatoes, salad, rolls, what what-- followed by songs, a gift exchange (White Elephant-style but really lovely things: Lao handicrafts and imported foods like Kraft dinner), candle lighting, and snacks-- many, many good snacks. A day full of blessings and a beautiful culmination of the Advent Season. Even though 25th has come and gone, may we continue to joyfully celebrate the good news of Christmas. Christ has come.

Peace,
Renee

My Christmas Gift

2006-12-25T07:48:00.000-08:00

I'll tell my Christmas story soon, but tonight I wanted to share this prayer with you before I go to bed. I've been richly blessed today with food and fellowship and gifts from friends near and far, and I am unprepared to reciprocate with packages but I offer this instead. A friend shared it with me and I've found that bringing parts of it to mind can change the way you see life-- people, situations, classrooms, manger scenes. May it bless you from this day onward with the gift of new sight from God for the world around you.

Days pass and the years vanish
and we walk sightless among miracles.
Lord, fill our eyes with seeing and our minds with knowing,
let there be moments when your presence,
like lightning,
illumines the darkness in which we walk.
Help us to see, wherever we gaze, that the bush burns unconsumed.
And we, clay touched by God, will reach out for holiness
and exclaim in wonder:
"How filled with awe is this place
and we did not know it!
Blessed is the eternal one, the Holy God!"

Merry Christmas,
Renee

It's Almost Christmas

2006-12-17T00:06:00.000-08:00

... and while Laos is free from the nasty winter weather that Seattle is getting (and other places as well, but I hear Seattle is unusually blustery this winter), it does now get down to 60 degrees F at night and it is breezy during the day. When people ask me if I'm cool, I sometimes am. This gives me great joy. I smile happily to draw a blanket and not just a sheet over myself at night. It does make unheated bucket bathing more challenging, but I sweat less so maybe I can get away with just a foot-washing on some days?

In my classes, I am trying to decide how to teach about Christmas. There are certain restraints teaching here so that the holiday lesson cannot be religious but I don't want to only tell about Christmas trees and Santa Claus (besides his being a very commercialized figure, it would be hard to explain why he does not deliver gifts to children in Laos, if he really is such a good-hearted fellow; some of my students are indeed naughty but I do believe that the majority should make his good list). None of my lessons worked last week in any case, so it may be a moot point if this week is similarly unsuccessful.

That is not to say that last week was a bad week. In fact, I had only two classes that I would not want to go through again and several that I felt rather good about. I did rediscover how poor a singer I am when I tried to teach a carol or two, but did not lose heart-- I still enjoy singing to myself, just not in front of classrooms of students who are unfamiliar with the words and tunes of the songs. I'll also refrain from any solo-caroling, though I will deliver some Christmas cookies to some neighbors. In fact, I'm off to make them right about now.

Peace to you all.
Renee

Contentment: An excerpt

2006-12-09T02:28:00.000-08:00

I was writing to a friend and thought maybe I'd save myself some time and send these thoughts to all of you about what I think God is trying to teach me, and how today I am not learning. I think, based on some of the things I've read lately, or talked with people about, or struggled with, that God is trying
to teach me about contentment and joyfulness. It seems ironic to write about it today since today I am decidedly discontent but today I have the time-- the time, perhaps, both to write and to be discontent.

Saturdays (here it is Saturday) are hard because I feel like I should stay in my village/suburb with the family and see what happens-- maybe bonding will happen like a lightning strike. I've turned down three Saturday trips with MCCers thinking that I should try to do what I say is important-- to be present in a place. Alas, my family and I have yet to bond. The closest we came was some shared TV time and nail-painting. I now have nice little strawberries on each nail. I had a french tip but chipped it off, thinking I could ask for it again, to be sociable.

So, I generally take the day to do laundry, cleaning, reading, wishing I could nap,etc. I think about visiting the teachers who live at the dormitory next door but don't feel up to the struggle with language that that would lead to. Eventually, I get really anxious and say, as I don't feel like I'm being present anyways, in any way that is more than physical, head into town. Then I call my all of four contacts in Vientiane and hope someone is around.

Nobody is around today, so I read the blog of a SALTer in Vietnam who is loving it, whose family is lovely, whose stories are funny and wise. Oh dear. I feel discontent. A devotional I'm reading is about joy and fighting for joy and choosing joy and God's gift of joy and I read it and then don't know what to do. The Word says that I'm a new creation, that a new covenant is written on my heart, that God's Spirit dwells with mine, unworthy as mine may be, that God loves me with an everlasting love. And I have been gifted with people who love me, whom I love. And I know that God is present in this world and at work. Oh, these are reasons for joy!
But I'm tired and lonely and not sure if I'm doing this whole living cross-culturally thing well and I can't feel this joy. What to do?

Recount times that do bring joy, I think: when class goes well (when visitors come and my kids introduce themselves and then want to sing-- Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes they (we) did and a song in Lao); when I walk under a bouginvillia bush; when one of the thousands of dogs in the street don't bark as I go by; when I go to a birthday party where I can't really talk with people but can still laugh and enjoy the food and and dance (the traditional Lao dance I cannot do, but the simplified
move-in-a-circle-with-arm-bobbing I can pull off) and sing (oh, thanks, that the happy birthday song is, apparently, international, if not universal...); when I go swimming; when the air smells like candy from a nearby flower; when I feel cool instead of hot, sweaty, sticky; when I buy a bunch of cilantro for the equivalent of 10 cents...

Wishing you a joyful day,
Renee

A Traditional Thanksgiving

2006-12-09T01:55:00.000-08:00

I can't get all my photos to upload, so you'll have to imagine a turkey roasting on a spit with a traditional Lao house in the background (the home of the MCCers, Heidi, Micah, and Frances, with whom I celebrated Thanksgiving), as well as the table all decked out with Thanksgiving food. But here is one of me straining cooked pumpkin through a sieve-- a timely process but worth it for the pie it produced. As traditional a Thanksgiving as I can imagine in a village in Laos on a Saturday (alas, my Lao school did not take a break for the holiday :)).

The Wonder of Entertainment for Children

2006-11-20T02:54:00.000-08:00

While I mostly admire children's books (The Bridge to Terebithia is lovely, I borrowed it from the Nita School library which is funny because the kids can't read the short sentence that I write on the board, let alone a short novel with beautiful but idiomatic expressions), I had the chance also to enjoy a movie aimed at the younger set called Master of Disguises.
It is entertaining but I most enjoyed watching it because I did so shortly after a day of culture shock in which the schedule at the school was changed and I did not know how to adjust to it. There is a scene where the main character is being taught to do something but is only half told how to do it. As a result, he gets knocked to the ground. I identified with him because, with my limited Lao and others' limited English, I am often half-told, so that I am getting knocked around a bit. Gently but still frustratingly. It gives me sympathy for my students who I can at most half-instruct and whose questions I can't understand let alone answer. Perhaps they also feel a bit bruised by it. But then we eat lunch together and all is well.
I also read a book called Owly about a curious owl who asks his mom questions like "How high is the sky? How many waves does the sea have? How many stars are in the sky?" His mom tells him to go and count, or fly and see. Of course, he can't ever count everything or reach the heighth of the sky. Completely unrelated to where I am, I still found this story a powerful reminder of the wonder of our world and of the wonder that its Creator has these answers that we can't fathom. It also, maybe, is a lesson on teaching-- on helping people seek answers instead of dictating them to them. Currently, I'm using the latter method in my classes. Any tips on how to switch over?
Happy Thanksgiving! Think of the wonders of this world as you give thanks.
Peace,
Renee

2006-11-10T21:03:00.000-08:00

Once over my shock, I was mostly pleased with the change. Here I am being pleased :)

Short Hair

2006-11-10T20:40:00.000-08:00

These days it doesn't look quite the same, as I don't have the patience or the flat iron of the salon, but you get the idea. Notice the fancy nail polish also. Hair cut and manicure: $2.50. Come and visit and I'll be up for another spa or beauty day.

A Shocking Change

2006-11-10T00:25:00.000-08:00

Back to the subject of change, and a fascinating one I find it to be. Recently, my most shocking change is also one most transitory. I got a haircut. An asian haircut, not just because I am in Asia but because it is the same style that looks beautiful on trendy Thai women and, the same cut but different (longer), that looks beautiful on all of my Lao women friends and students.
I recommend for everyone who is too afraid to change their hairstyle (as I have always been) just to go to a salon where you cannot communicate properly with the stylist. You cannot help but end up with something new and exciting. And there is no reason but to rejoice, for hair grows back and there's nothing to be done in the meantime but accept people's graciousness (my fellow teachers and students so showered me with compliments that I am almost convinced I look beautiful with short hair and bangs).
Have a piqued your interest? I'll post a photo the next chance I have but it shan't be now because there's no USB port on my computer.
While you await said photo, perhaps contemplate how you have changed recently. I think that maybe we change a little bit each day, even on the dull days. I think maybe small things like reading a poem or looking closely at a flower or, less idealistically, sitting through hours of a meeting or driving in our cars (or on our motorbikes) can change us. Maybe? Maybe that's getting carried away. I don't know what it would be like to be changed by a car ride, except that I will never forget several rides I've had-- the CD that was playing or the way I could look through the window at this star during the whole ride or peering through the windshield at the moon or the way it smelled because people had taken off their hiking boots-- and if we remember something, it has changed something in our brain (right, my medical friends). And if we change physically, can we help but be changed spiritually? Aren't our physical and spiritual selves bound up together?
I'm not saying that each change makes me a better or a worse person. But I've been trying to ask myself how today (or yesterday...) changed me and I am surprised that as I am more aware of being changed, perhaps I am changed more. For example, if I am aware that sitting through an MCC meeting to hear people's reports and listening to a monk who I could most unfortunately not understand, may have made me think more about what poverty is and what it means for someone to be Buddhist if the gate is narrrow but God is love, I may open myself up to change that I would miss if the meeting was but a meeting.
I've got to be done rambling for I'm off to a film festival (thanks to the Austrailian Embassy), to live the expat life, to be changed by a film. Look for that photo to come up soon.
Peace, Renee

After The Race

2006-11-04T23:25:00.000-08:00

Not that The Race is over, but the one that took place in Vientiane has come and gone. Here's a photo to prove it. I took fourth in the 10k, I think because many of the fast women were running the half-marathon. It earned me a trip beside the podium and a basket of soymilk. I look befuddled but really I was quite happy to have run and to be heaped with honor for it (can you be heaped with honor when you are next to the podium but not on it? in any case, I felt more honored than I think my time deserved). The Victory Monument is gloriously in the background-- made with concrete donated for a runway but put to much more inspiring, if less practical, use.

Running the Race

2006-11-04T22:22:00.000-08:00

Before we left our MCC orientation, the former executive director Robb Davis, spoke about life and faith. He spoke about how the Beatitudes say that those who pursue righteousness are blessed but how it doesn't seem that way in this world a lot of the time. He spoke about Hebrews 11 and how the people of faith listed there didn't live to see what they hoped for. And he spoke of running the race anyways-- pursuing righteousness when you don't feel blessed in that pursuit and being faithful even when you may not live to see your hopes realized. It was a powerful message, I thought, since I too often fail to see how God is fulfilling his promises to bless, to not be mocked.
A week ago, I ran in the Vientiane 10K. It strikes me, as it did when I ran cross country in high school and would spend some runs planning to write a book about how running is a metaphor for life, that the race metaphor is very apt. Races and faith are both hard yet joyful things. I am always apprehensive before a race and always tired during it. I do not wake up wanting to go to a race nor do I always want to keep going once I've started. There are always moments where I need someone to cheer me on (like the MCC Laos folks who came out in the early morning to show support or the Lao runner who finished with me and kept saying "Fighting" to remind me not to slow down) or to reach down and cheer for myself. Yet somehow, when it is all over, I am so joyful to have run. Inexplicably, generally-- although this time I was given a basket of soymilk, a good cause for joy, eh?
This past week has been like a race in many ways. I did not wake up and feel ready to teach or fail to teach (any tips on managing classroom behavior would be most welcome, especially for large classes that don't speak your language), to not be understood, to be misunderstood, to not understand. But then I heard cheers from the sidelines-- a phone call from home, a package from the community group I was a part of last year in Seattle with gifts and letters of encouragement, a text message from another MCCer. Or I found a second wind in trips to the That Luang festival (more on that later) or successful communication attempts with the other teachers or lunch with the students. And I realized that I am blessed to be here (am I pursuing righteousness? I'm not entirely sure what that pursuit might look like in my life. But I'm here learning what it might mean to pursue) and joyful to be running, that God provides moments of rest and baskets of soymilk as I keep going. And that others are faithfully running, too, in Seattle, Cambodia, Tanzania. May you find the strength to put on your shoes when you least want to and may there be moments of great lightness and cool breezes to balance the hot and tired times.

Back in Time (teacher's day)

2006-10-22T02:44:00.000-07:00

Some of my students performing the traditional Lao dance.
My self and gifts from my students-- an outpouring considering I'd only been teaching for one week.

Bangkok

2006-10-22T02:32:00.000-07:00

The train station is Bangkok in a nutshell, from what little I saw: lots of yellow, in honor of the king, whom the Thai people love; food stalls (KFC, DQ, or thai-style fast food); a huge TV screen; lots of people (too few chairs); and a small Buddhist shrine in the back.
Also, here's a view of part of the city-- I was at the outskirts, on a rooftop. The city center isn't visible; it's behind those skyscrapers...

My mBike

2006-10-22T02:26:00.000-07:00

A silent m... I can't quite believe I have a motorcycle but a (motor)bike I can handle.

A Few Moments of Culture Shock...

2006-10-22T01:19:00.000-07:00

I'm doing well, as a general rule. Not yet tired of sticky rice, a bit tired of the heat (cold season is on its way, I hear), not yet fluent (oh, for a babel fish...). I wanted to share a few stories of culture shock that I had recently, because I think they are amusing, for the most part, and interesting.

-- I took a trip to Bangkok, two days to visit fellow MCCers who just had a beautiful baby girl. Bangkok is overwhelming. It blossomed quickly, I hear, and now is 7 or 11 million people strong, depending on who you ask (or over 1 million, according to a local taxi driver :)). A commercial hub, with all you could ever want to buy and that bit more that makes you want to buy it when you know you don't need it. I'm glad to be back in little Vientiane.
The point of all that was supposed to be our overnight train trip, which was five hours late on the way back. Here's the bit of culture shock: there was never any explanation or apology or comment, really, about the lateness. We were just late. No more to it, apparently. I missed work, but am a bit glad for the short week. Teaching is tiring. We'll try a full five days this week, I guess.

-- I was looking through a science book, written in English, with the science teacher at the school I'm at. A few things came up that I can't imagine being said in the science-driven western world: where do these live? (pointing at a picture of a dinosaur); can you eat these? (pointing at a picture of a weevil p.s. you do eat them, when they live in your food, but not for sustenance or with desire); is it true that you can fly around the world and end up where you started? because the earth is round, right?; if humans were nocturnal, we could better hunt owls, eh? (I added the eh? but the comment was to that effect).
I love this science teacher. I don't write this to criticize in any way but just because I think it's striking to think about education-- it's availability in the U.S., how we accept certain teachings, etc.-- and eating habits.

-- I went to a dance at a hotel last night with my host mother. There was traditional Lao dancing, some sort of line dancing, karaoke (for which I was, unfortunately, unprepared :)), and a sign over the drink station that said "Merry Christmas". Who would have thought, in a Buddhist country in October in a dance-atmosphere, you'd see such a sign? (Who would have thought I'd go to a dance with my host mom and here 40-ish year old friends?).

-- I was eating noodle salad the other day when I crunch on something. I pulled it out of my mouth. Lo and behold, it was a little crab claw. It went into the mortar (into the pestle?)along with the spices and fish sauce, I guess. Extra calcium?

Peace,
Renee

Boat Racing, Teacher's Day, and Simon Says

2006-10-12T03:24:00.000-07:00

How do other people do it? Write so well in their blogs, I mean. I see this blank posting before me and feel its blankness rather than feel inspired to fill it with my words. Maybe if I work in snippets of life?
Snippet 1: A week ago, we celebrated Teacher's Day. In spite of teaching at the school for such a short time, I joined in the festivities: watching students sing or dance, receiving gifts (I will never need to buy soap or laundry detergent again; why don't we give such useful gifts in the U.S.? Afraid of sending the message that the receiver has questionable hygiene? Pish posh), and playing sports with the other teachers (I performed poorly in badminton, I am sorry to say. In my defense, I was outmatched by an athletic and practiced opponent, and overwhelmed by the many watching eyes).
Snippet 2: Last weekend, I left Vientiane for a beautiful ride through the countryside and boat racing festivities on a smaller scale than in the capital city. Still, Saturday was an adventure. The riverside was crowded with booths at which to eat, play carnival games, buy this and that (remarkable how similar street fairs seem to be, the world over, yet how unique; like the Fremont Sunday market, this was, except for the heat and firecrackers and dishes washed in river water :)). We failed to see many races, but the several we saw-- traditional boats of 20 and of 50 rowers going all out down the Mekong-- were memorable.
Snippet 3: I tried to teach Simon Says in class today. I couldn't even manage to explain it to the english teacher who was helping me (so, when I say do something, don't do it, unless I say Simon Says...), but I think we had fun. The time passed more quickly than the listen and repeat drills that we've been doing and the students may have learned... well, I'm not sure what... that the strange foreign teacher will jump on one foot in front of the class with her eyes closed? We'll get to the real learning eventually, I think. First, I need to win their respect :)
Snippet 4: I helped make name tags for a class-- writing the Lao script in English. Phew. I wish English was phonetic. As it was, I could have spelled each name ten different ways. Think of "ough" and all the ways to pronounce it and curse English's non-uniformity of spelling with me. But that's what you get when I language is made up from so many others-- french words, german words, african words...
Snippet 5: I rode my motorbike last night to a meeting that wasn't happening. I would have been upset except that I was proud of myself for riding at night (a fear conquered) and had a conversation with a Lao shopkeeper. He spoke a touch of english and I think I did quite well with my Lao. My students wouldn't believe it, but I think I'm learning and may one day be conversational.

So Many Stories, So Little Time

2006-09-30T04:13:00.000-07:00

Moving in with a new family and starting a new job anywhere can give you lots of things to share, but especially in a place where the story is so unfamiliar to the western world. To be honest, I had not heard much about Laos before I came and I still have a lot to learn.
I'll tell you about the school where I'm at. It is a private school, so the families pay a small fee to go there. There are about 600 students there from kindergarten to middle school, all of whom are entertained by having a foreign teacher at the school. I'll be teaching to just about all the classes (all except kindergarten), which is what the other english teachers have been doing so far. They actually did not study to be teachers, like me, so they are a bit over their heads. So are the kids, apparently. We had end-of-the-month exams last week which I helped to oversee (gave up trying to prevent communal exam taking as that was frustrating and not how I wanted my first interaction with the kids to be). I did not see the scores for other subjects but there is a bit of work to be done in English. That's why I'm here, though, right?
That's the visa-earning reason and I'll try to do my part. But another important reason is to hear stories like Dtoi's. He is teaching english, just his second year out of college. He earns $50 a month doing so, but $45 of that goes to rent and another $45 a month for food, I understood. He does some more teaching on the side, but I'm not sure how he makes ends meet. And I'm not sure what to think of the fact that that is more than government workers make here ($30) and less than I am making as a volunteer ($66 a month for personal use). Why is some of the world so materially rich and why am I blessed enough to be part of that rich world?

A New Home

2006-09-28T18:06:00.000-07:00

Here's a photo of my new bedroom decorated to make it feel homey. And the bathroom just down the hall where I "shower" (with a dipper from the bucket) and, on the rare occasion, get maliciously or accidently attacked by cockroaches. Whatever the intent, I don't like it. They only come out at night, so I can avoid them if I drink less at dinner. And the kitchen-- no stove but an electric wok, rice steamer, and hot plate. All you need to make rice and accompanying sauces.

Moving On Up

2006-09-23T23:40:00.000-07:00

...to the other side of Vientiane because I moved in with my host family, an exciting and slightly anxious occasion. But the first day/night was wonderful in spite of our limited communication, a hinderance that will change with time-- I've already been taught many new words, although I can't recall them all at this moment. But my family, Nafone (10/F), Got (12/M), A (16/F), Lack (the mother), and Ket (the father), has already been gracious about speaking slowly, repeating things, and salvaging what I make of the Lao phrases that I know, so I'm sure they will remind me when the time comes. The house is spacious with a large garden in which a puppy runs around (handily, I think this puppy and I can live symbiotically as he must like meat, although I spotted him snacking on rice the other day, and I, while I'm eating it, could use a bit of help). I have my own room, which I've settled into quite nicely, although my sticky-tack keeps getting too warm and my wall hangings keep displaying themselves from the floor. I've taken some pictures but forgotten my cord and hope to post them soon.
I start teaching tomorrow, another adventure since I have a lot of students (five classes worth), 21 hours in class per week, and no idea what level everyone is at. I'm looking forward to getting going as waiting lends itself to needless anxiety for God doesn't give us more than we can handle. Thanks for all of your love, prayers, and email.

The Chemistry of Change

2006-09-15T00:34:00.000-07:00

I don't remember much chemistry; it's kind of like Chaos theory in that way, I studied it and then forgot about most of it. But maybe we just study so we have more to draw on when we are making analogies about life. That said, I was thinking the other day about change-- how people change. There was a line in a book I read that said something like "that changed me" and I thought, that small of an incident? Do small every day things change us? Or are we only changed by a move around the world?
Or, to compare it to chemistry, is personal change (or maybe societal and other kinds of change as well) like a precipitation where you add one last chemical and all of a sudden you have a bright orange, anenome-like solid (this happened in one of the better ochem labs) or is it like a titration where you add something drop by drop and the color of your solution goes from clear through a variety of colors and ends up blue (some titrations change color all of a sudden, but I'm not talking about those ones...)?
I'm not sure. Maybe it depends on the person or the situation or maybe it happens both ways. But I've found that I only look for the bright-orange precipitates to appear in my life and that seems more rare. I should rather be looking for the drops that change me-- an unexpectedly thoughtful Americorps workshop here, a ride on a motorbike there, a conversation that I had, or a rainstorm that I watched (can a rainstorm change how you think or who you are?).
I saw this bird in the village yesterday that flutters its wings half the time and closes its wings and drops a bit, then flaps again. It was white and black and striking in the way it moved. And it made me think of something someone had said about there not being many birds near the villages because people eat them (what other source of protein do they have? not many). Thinking about that seems like it could change you a bit, maybe just a shade. Anyway, I'll keep my eyes open for drips of change.

Odds and Ends

2006-09-15T00:20:00.000-07:00

The title refers to what I've been up to of late (a little of this and a little of that) and what was in my noodle soup yesterday (a little pork's blood (congealed so I could remove it without too much trouble!), a little beef and chicken and turkey and squid, and some meatballs and bologna that are made of whatever bologna is made of, who really knows?). Strangely enough, it was good soup. I just avoided most of the animal bits and enjoyed the noodles, broth, and bean sprouts. Anyway, next time you have pho, think of me.
I had this meal yesterday in the midst of visiting several villages where MCC has "Global Family" projects. Instead of one-on-one sponsorship, MCC supports villages, which means supplying school uniforms, school kits (paper and pens, etc.), health kits (toothbrushes, soap, etc.), and occasionally bicycles (the secondary schools can be too far away to walk so kids need bikes if they want to keep studying, and even with a bike the school can be an hour-long, bumpy ride away). I was glad to get to go along for the delivery of some of these gifts; to ride along potholed roads, walk over a make-shift bridge (and through some muddy water when the bridge ended), to grasp at the few Lao words I could make out (numbers, occupations, and the word school is about all I got), and to see how quickly life becomes more rural and disconnected from certain resources as you move away from the city.
Strangely, when I came back yesterday, I had plans to go swimming and to a yoga class at a fancy gym near the office. It was lovely but also strange knowing that the pool, etc. was a world so far removed from the lives of the people I met. How blessed that I can lead a double life, meeting people of a different culture and livlihood than me but also able to experience the luxuries of "home."

Chaos Theory

2006-09-11T01:13:00.001-07:00

I don't remember much of what I learned about chaos theory, when I studied it briefly in school, but I remember getting the idea that even within apparent randomness there is a bit of order. The way that smoke rises is the only truly patternless event, I seem to remember. So, with everything save smoke, you just need to watch for a time and a pattern will emerge.
After three weeks of watching here, some of the randomness is showing signs of order. For example, the tones on the words in Lao are not random, PTL. On the contrary, there are nice rules that govern which group of letters (a word) has which tone. True, there are seven tones, I still have a struggle identifying some of the letters (if you don't know your letters, the laws governing them are moot), and even when all is clear my brain may slip in a "dog"-- ma with a low rising tone-- rather than "come"-- ma with a high rising tone--, but I am overjoyed by my colorful tone chart. I was told it was the biologist in me, who likes to classify things. If it helps me speak, classification is a gift.
Also, I've been out on the road more-- walking a bit, bicycling a bit, catching a lift in a classmate's car, taking a tuk-tuk (a motorbike with a carriage behind it-- not a romantic carriage mind you, but one with a low roof, vinyl seats (occasionally wet in spite of the roof), and diesel fumes), and occasionally riding on the back of a motorcycle. I've had lessons so I may soon be on a motorcycle of my own, helmet happily in place, no worries. As I travel, I'm slowly seeing that while there is flexibility in terms of traffic laws, there is a pattern that governs the way cars, trucks, tuk-tuks, and bike interact. This seems to be it: that the person going, gets to go. Simple enough. Right-away belongs to the person who either clearly has it or most clearly claims it. And red lights and stop signs are to be noticed and generally followed. These rules and my defensive driving skills (several classes of them) should get me safely everywhere I need to go.

A Week of Newness

2006-08-23T02:13:00.000-07:00

I was realizing as I checked up on a friend's blog (strange that I have time for that here in Laos when I didn't in Seattle but currently I do)that people don't just write day-to-day details but share truly thoughtful things on their pages. I don't promise anything; in fact, I may well stick to the day-to-day, which I think Wendell Berry would be alright with (have you read Jayber Crow? It's day-to-day, certainly, although profound as well, as Wendell is apt to be), but I will keep it in mind as I'm updating.
I have been here long enough now to have had several tours of the city by car. I think I'll need to walk and bike and run and perhaps motorbike around it before I can know it, but I've seen enough to understand why it was described to me as a feeling rural even though it is a capital city. There are just three major streets and the tallest buildings are but a couple of stories. There are no chain restaurants or shops, one of the few cities in the world with that distinction, I think. But you can find nearly everything you need, it seems, at the minimarts and the Morning Market (I've yet to go, but I've been told it is a source of all things-- I'll let you know). It is comforting to know that I can find the essentials, like bread and Skippy's peanut butter when you just don't want sticky rice for breakfast.
Speaking of which, I tried and enjoyed some Lao food today, including the ubiquitous sticky rice (it is to Lao cuisine as pasta is to Italian). It wasn't as spicy as Lao people would eat it (the restaurant made it mild for our group of foreigners) and I didn't try the traditional larp, but had green papaya salad, spring rolls, and Morning Glory (a tasty dish of greens and garlic). I tried to eat it the Lao way (you roll the sticky rice in a ball and either dip this into sauce or indent the ball so that it forms a spoon of sorts and use that to scoop the other food). I may need some lessons before I can do that with any sort of grace but I love eating with my hands so I'm willing to put in some practice and get it right.
Up until now, I've been taking baby steps into my new world-- a walk down my current street here, a talk with the local MCC staff or a past IVEPer there (someone from Laos who served for a year in the U.S. or Cananda, the reverse of what I'm doing). I also tried some rice candy from Thailand and new fruits like Dragonfruit and green guava, drank a sapota fruit smoothie by the Mekong River at sunset (makes you want to come and visit, eh?), went to visit a handicrafts partner of MCC and the graduation of an MCC acquaintance, and showered in a bathroom that lacks a tub or curtain so that I got the whole place wet and had to squeegee it afterwards (common enough practice here), so this week has been full of newness. But next week, I'll start language study and really get out and about, I think. I'm looking forward to it and I'll let you know how it goes, maybe less wordfully, maybe with pictures...

Orientation and Travel

2006-08-21T21:20:00.000-07:00

It was a good, long week of orientation to the mission and policy of MCC, preparation for cross-cultural life and the joys and mishaps that accompany it, knowing oneself (turns out that I'm an INTJ, if I'm remembering my letters correctly) and others (50 other SALTers (SALT is the program I am doing: Service And Learning Together) and 40 International Visitor Exchange participants), etc. A good time of being in limbo before the next step of moving overseas, also. Being in limbo doesn't sound particularly desirable but it is not bad if one knows when it will end and it allows for time to think before an overwhelming life change.
Speaking of which, I am now in Laos having arrived safely last night. It was a long trip from Pennsylvania through London (a 12 hour layover gave us plenty of time to see Big Ben, Buckingham Palace, and make it through security) through Bangkok and to Vientiane. It was a blessing to travel most of the way with other SALTers and to be met at the airport by my hosts, the MCC Laos country representatives, for the next stage of transition: in-country orientation, which will include some language study, many introductions, and ... I'm not sure what else. I'll let you know soon.

2006-08-09T13:55:00.000-07:00

Hmm, so this picture is here so that it can be in my profile, not necessarily because I want it to be here. But, here it is, so enjoy the braids. I miss them myself.

Setting Things Up

2006-08-03T18:18:00.000-07:00

Just eight days and I am headed off-- not yet to Laos, mind you. That comes only after a weeklong orientation to all things SALT in Akron, Pennsylvania. But, headed off in the sense that my bags will be packed, everything not packed in such a way will be stored somewhere or another, and I'll be finished saying good-byes (certainly the worst part of going somewhere new is the leaving of people who can't go with you).
All that is to say, it is about time I set up a way to stay in touch with folks in Seattle or not in Seattle and the plan is to do it with this blog.