skyeball

2007-12-23T08:17:00.000-08:00

Home safe. (Home being my mom's place north of NYC.) JW is en route or newly arrived on the west coast. So sad to leave Delhi. So happy to see my family. So exhausted.

Snow! Rain! Running water I can drink straight out of the tap!

More later when I'm a little more coherent post-nap.

S.

2007-12-20T22:16:00.000-08:00

Morning all... Easing into the day. We're supposed to have lunch with MN's new in-laws. I am sick with a capital S. JW's cold has made its way to me. Am thinking the plane ride home won't be so great with all this congestion. Ah well. Maybe I'll magically heal in the next day-and-a-half.

We're staying in another part of town now, Jangpura. It's the artist area. A fantastic professional photographer (and brother-in-law to our previous hosts) is putting us up. We've completely taken over the house with all our stuff. You should have seen it when we were all getting our saris arranged! Anyway, the flat is filled with his color & black-and-white photographs taken in India, Myanmar, etc. I keep looking at the portraits, most of which are face-forward shots, trying to pick out my favorites. But I can't. They're all stunning. Every single one. I really want to learn how to capture personalities in an instant, to "make photos," but I figure that a good part of that comes naturally. Having "the eye" from the start.

Last night was the wedding reception at the Gymkhana Club. MN looked absolutely radiant in a red-and-gold sari. Her husband was dashing too. We all dressed up in saris, each of which took about a half-hour to put on. Thank god for MN's friend M, who helped us get them on. It's such an intricate process. You have to measure out how far from the floor the fabric falls, then tuck it into a petticoat, then pull it around to the front. Then you pleat the fabric back and forth in front, then you pull it up & over the shoulder, around the back & the rest of the fabric falls over the right arm. You wear this little short-sleeve shirt underneath too, which usually has colors that highlight the colors of the fabric. It's really hard to move around in all that fabric. You have to kick it out in front of you so you don't step on the fabric. But you feel slightly fabulous at the same time.

Anyway, we all huddled around the gas heaters. Met friends & a few extended family members & colleagues. The food was awesome. May I express my love for spicy palak paneer? All in all a good night. JW & AJ were staff photographers for the night. They took hundreds of shots. As MN's brother AN would say, they clicked everyone more than once.

Oh, AN took me & CH to the Taj Mahal (meh-HEHL') in Agra on Tuesday. We went out on four hours' sleep, drove about 3 hours to get there. The building is truly gorgeous. As close to perfect as I've ever seen. How is that possible? I was told that the man who had it built would cut off the arms of his artisans once they were done working on the building so that they could never recreate something so beautiful again.

We walked inside the Taj Mahal. It smelled slightly of death & decay. People were crowded up against the barrier, looking in at the raised graves. We all kind of caught our breath. Some folks were kneeling down & praying. It was definitely a place where you tiptoe. I couldn't help but think of Morgan, of her memorial bench. We went outside afterward, sat on a raised marble area & laid back. Our legs were in the sun, warmed just right. Our backs were on the cold marble. We looked up at the marble dome above us. I felt cut in two.

Time to jump in the shower before our lunch. (The SHOWER! Hot running water! I'm definitely getting soft in my old age.) I've got to get a duffel bag to carry all these gifts home. Hope to see my radio friend TR again. We want to go to Old Delhi, & tonight is Eid, so it should be interesting. Then JW & I leave tomorrow night for the States. Where did the time go?

Hasta luego.

S.

2007-12-20T12:43:00.001-08:00

THE WEDDING RECEPTION 12/20/07

MN & AJ

JW, AJ & me

AJ couldn't resist

A regal MN

MN & JW

JW & me

J-school ladies (CH, AJ, MN, me & JW)

moi

MN & AJ (photo for Krishna)

more moi (photo for Laura)

MN & AN

JW attacks MN's husband

MN & JW

We love them!

JW & MN, post-party

2007-12-20T03:44:00.000-08:00

Barefoot College, Tilonia (JW photos)

The hot air balloon ride (JW photos)

Barefoot College (JW photos)

With AJ at the Gymkhana Club (JW photo)

Neemrana Palace, MN's birthday (JW photos)

CH on the camel cart ride to the Taj Mahal

CH & AN at the Taj

Yours truly, sick of posing

CH at the Taj Mahal

Dilli Haat, Delhi

AJ at the marriage dinner celebration

MN & her brothers

Statues

AN just after JW's dirty joke in Hindi

AJ staying warm

JW's toast

Dinner at a South Indian restaurant, Delhi

CH & I try paan (betelnut)

MN & AJ at the courthouse

JW at the courthouse

Waiting for the magistrate

MN shows her "something blue"

Pronounced man & wife

Done!

Picnicking at Lodhi Gardens

2007-12-17T04:28:00.000-08:00

MN is now a married woman! She & her fiance did the deed early this afternoon in court in Delhi, alongside people paying their traffic violations & a few other couples tying the knot. We all huddled in the magistrate's office with her: one of her good friends, one of his, his parents, her brother, CH, AJ, JW and I. It was comfy cozy. Photos left and right. (Damn Americans!) They signed their papers after their three witnesses did, showed their passports and said aloud "I, ___, take you as my lawful husband/wife." Then it was done!

We followed up with a delicious picnic at Lodhi Garden. Roti rolls from Khan Cha Cha, mezze platters from Market Cafe, these yummy Gujarati dishes from MN's friends & a big chocolate cake. The newlyweds were glowing. Glowing, I tell you! (And I'll do my best to get the photos online as soon as I can.) After the up-and-down of the months preceding the wedding, it's just such a relief to have it official. We gave the happy couple a night in the Claridge's Hotel as our group gift, so they're off on their own for the evening. Hopefully we'll go see a Bollywood film in the theater with MN's brother.

They had their dinner for close friends & some family on Saturday night at the Foreign Correspondents' Club. We sat outside & ate all kinds of Kashmiri food. It was very, very chilly, so we ended up huddled around the heaters strategically placed around the grassy area. Awesome food. Lots of laughter. JW took the reins as staff photographer. A great night. And I must say that the '80s soundtrack we put together was just right. (Extreme's "More Than Words," anyone? Perhaps a little Aerosmith? Or Toto's "Africa"? Richard Marx? Air Supply?)

Then AJ & I went on to my radio friend TR's housewarming party. We got there just as the party was winding up & met a few of her colleagues, then sat down for some tea & conversation. It's great to see TR in her new location. Her husband & kids are coming down from the West Bengal farm in the near future. She seems excited about where she is & what she's doing. That's about all I could ask for any of my friends...

Taxi back home at 2-something a.m. Unhappy stomach. CH arrived at 3-something looking completely composed & with it, even after 24 hours of traveling from NYC. How is that possible?? Late start on Sunday. We had to arrange all the food for the picnic that was held today. Fit four of us in an auto-rickshaw -- seems I'm the official lap-sitter. Had lunch at about 4 p.m., then dinner maybe 2 hours later. South Indian thali -- god, I love it! I tried paan, or betelnut, after dinner. (It's a favorite in PNG, but I never tried it there.) Yuck. Never again.

I'm exhausted today. Must be this getting up to an alarm clock thing. How will I ever be at work at 6 a.m. in two weeks' time? I'm worn out by car horns & jittery stomach. I miss Morgan so much today. (I guess any wedding brings this all out again. I'm trying so hard to think of it as her blessing every wedding I attend, which helps ease the pain of remembering how much she wanted to be married & how much she deserved that happiness.)

I had an interesting conversation over G-chat with my cousin the other day. One of the things we discussed was how to celebrate & mourn at the same time. Must be an art form I haven't perfected yet. Can you do both at once? Or does one emotion win out? The first wedding, just six weeks after Morgan died, the sight of boats & docks & the bride in flip-flops in front of the water made me sob & sob. Happiness for the couple, then despair for our loss. It turns in a moment, then flips back just as easily. The second wedding, maybe a month ago, a little less despair but still that gnawing ache. Today, the same. My quest now is to figure out how to turn that emptiness & ache into something positive. There must be a way.

Last night we had a great traffic moment. CH is still easing into that unique chaos that is Delhi. She noticed that MN's husband (!) drove through a red light. (To his credit, he drove slowly.) CH: "Um, that was a red light... Does that mean anything here?" To which the brave man replied, "Not after 10:30 in the evening! Besides, it was a pedestrian light." Unthinkable in California. Here, somehow it all makes sense.

JW's Hindi is progressing quite well. Turns out it's quite an icebreaker with the kids when she counts from 1 to 10. The adults have a more visceral reaction to a few other choice phrases she's been taught in the last two weeks... One of them is the only complete sentence I know in Hindi. I can't write it down for fear of offending the parents reading this blog. Sorry! But I have to say that its shock value is fantastic.

Tomorrow CH & I are going to Agra to see the Taj Mahal & do the tourist thing a little. Seeing as she's 5'10" in bare feet & African-American, not to mention model-gorgeous, she's been the subject of great interest whenever we've gone out & about. She keeps calling people "honey" and "sweetheart" in an effort to make them laugh or smile, but hasn't had much success yet. People are embarrassed to be caught staring. They shift their eyes, look away for a moment & then sneak a quick peek again.

I look forward to getting out of Delhi for a day!

Hasta luego,

S.

2007-12-14T04:44:00.000-08:00

A quiet couple of days in Delhi (if that's possible, given the eternal beeping & men bicycling down the road shouting "pani! pani!" & dog fights & everything else)...

We're all alternately feeling on the cusp of getting sick, so lots of sleeping & hanging out & having chai with hot brownies at Turtle Cafe as of late. Errands too. Picked up MN's petticoats for her various saris. Bought a few gifts. JW is over browsing at my love/nemesis, the clothing store FabIndia, & AJ went back to return a bag at home. MN & fiance are exhausted, & the wedding festivities haven't even started! They're currently picking up wedding bands in another part of town. Oh, & the marriage ceremony in court is now re-scheduled for Monday instead of Tuesday. Long story.

We're staying with friends of MN, a family of 8 siblings from the northeast part of India. The big city there is called Manipur (sp?), for those of you geography buffs. Burma/Myanmar is on the other side of the border. The family is from the Naga tribe. So they're Indian in terms of nationality, but they look more Asian than Indian. Apparently, after Independence, the people in the region were told they'd become independent themselves, but that's never happened. And I'm told there's a separatist movement there that's alive & well. One of MN's friends had a story about getting kidnapped for a few hours on a windy road. Her father & brother are involved in politics & apparently this has happened to a number of their family members! I'd like to learn more about this area. (I'm cooking up ideas for fellowship projects -- anything that could get me back to India on a "full ride.")

I'm hoping to meet up with a journalist friend in the next few days. It's harder than it sounds, given that Delhi's so big & because there are a few of us we occasionally have to negotiate who's doing what & going where. Take today. We went to a mall in South Delhi to get a gift, then tried to take an auto-rickshaw to Connaught Place (central Delhi) to meet my friend. But the auto-rickshaws wouldn't take us the 18 km because it was too far. So we went back to our neighborhood, GK -- also in South Delhi -- & made plans to meet up later.

I still have no idea of the geography of Delhi. I know AJ's family is in the northern part of the city. We stayed first in central Delhi, near Khan Market, & now are in South Delhi, maybe 10-15 km away from that neighborhood. There are so many roundabouts & two Beltway-like roads encircling the city. Shouldn't it be easy, given those landmarks? But it's not. And it's bizarre to have no internal map when I'm so used to figuring out cities pretty easily. Needless to say, nobody's asking me for directions here.

Not much else exciting to tell you, so I'll sign off for the night.

S.

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

Big gun, Delhi

T-shirt painter, Pushkar

Damn tourists

Street signs, Delhi

Outside the Brahma Temple, Pushkar

One of Pushkar's hundreds of temples

Baha'i Temple, Delhi

JW at the Baha'i Temple, Delhi

Pushkar's holy lake

Store signs in Hebrew & French, Pushkar

Outside the Brahma Temple, Pushkar

Amber Fort

Amber Fort (photo by JW)

Temple in Pushkar

Pushkar's holy lake

Hotel Diggi Palace, Jaipur

JW at Amber Fort

yours truly, Amber Fort

View from Amber Fort, outside Jaipur

Three to a motorcycle, stuck in traffic thanks to a political rally

Rajasthani scarf-maker, Jaipur

Johti Bazaar at sunset, Jaipur

Gate to the old city section of Jaipur

Hotel Diggi Palace, Jaipur

Kids writing in Hindi on the back of the car after the balloon landing

Inside Samode Palace

Spices at the Johti Bazaar, Jaipur

The balloon ride

After the balloon landing

MN & fiance at Neemrana Palace

Purses at the Dilli Haat marketplace

JW in the hot air balloon

Creeping up the hillside

Agricultural land outside Samode Village

Preparing the hot air balloon

The pilot blows up the hot air balloon

Samode Palace

Samode Village, from the hot air balloon

Pottery at the Dilli Haat marketplace

View from the backseat of the auto-rickshaw, Delhi

Traffic in Delhi (from the auto-rickshaw)

Rickshaw driver in Jaipur

Our room at Hotel Diggi Palace, Jaipur

An air hostess training facility in Neemrana

Schoolkids in Dilli Haat marketplace

Bright scarfs in the Dilli Haat marketplace

AJ shows MN her stuff

From another Neemrana Palace courtyard

Neemrana Palace doorway

A beatific AJ

View from Neemrana Palace toward the village

After MN's birthday lunch

(left to right: AJ, MN's fiance, MN, JW)

Neemrana Palace light was incredible...

2007-12-12T05:43:00.000-08:00

Does anyone actually read this thing? Gotta say I wonder...

It's evening on Wednesday. I decided to take it easy in Delhi instead of going to Varanasi. I just don't have it in me to negotiate a 12-hour train ride each way & pay for another hotel room just to see dead people cremated. (A little too close for comfort right now.) The stomach's a little queasy. And I realized this is time I'd much rather spend with my friends, doing whatever we can to make MN's life a little easier during a really tough time.

JW & I had a great time visiting with many of AJ's family members in Rohini last night. We took the Metro out (changing lines two times). The system is immaculate. Even cleaner & nicer than DC's Metro! Once I got used to the constant staring -- even from people in the next car over on either side -- it was kind of neat to see all these Delhi neighborhoods from above.

The neighborhood streets are very narrow here, even more so than Habana Vieja. Cars on either side, tucked in so impossibly tightly that you can't imagine how one could parallel park into the spots. Most folks have tiny little cars. A Civic (my car) is big here. But I digress.

Many of AJ's relatives live in one complex maybe 1 km from the Rohini East Metro stop. We made three stops to visit them: first to her mom's brother's family, then her dad's nephew's place, then to her mom's sister's family. Incredible amounts of food at each one. JW & I were stuffed far past the point of comfort...but it was wonderful to feel so welcomed into their homes. AJ's young cousin, 10 years old, won all our hearts. He wants to be a botanist who studies plants, but not flowers -- because flowers are for girls. (His parents want him to be a lawyer.) He likes action movies, but NOT romances. He's like a little Yoda who comes out with these pithy nuggets of brilliance. An old soul...

A few hours later, we rolled ourselves -- now including AJ & her suitcase -- back into the Metro & through the stares & back to Connaught Place (central Delhi). MN's younger brother Ali picked us up & drove us to our new home. We're staying at MN's friend's family's flat now in an area known as GK. I forget what that stands for, but it's in South Delhi. We stayed up until 2:30 a.m. laughing & talking. The three of us are tucked into one big long bed for the moment. Once CH joins us on the 15th, it will be even more cozy!

Woke up late today -- 10:30? Took my first bucket shower in many years, one blessedly warm thanks to this funky metal rod that heats up the bucket of water. MN stopped by to scoop us up to her assignment, interviewing American tourists at the Baha'i Temple that's shaped like a lotus flower. We left her to do her man-on-the-street assignment & sat in the temple for a while. Peaceful. Enforced quiet, aside from the occasional baby. (MN says she used to come here when she was in college, just because it's so hard to find a place in Delhi that's really, truly quiet.) It was a little odd to find at least 2 people were taking photos & video of us. Can't say I've had that happen before with people who aren't relatives or friends. Must be our stunning beauty.

MN found her Americans. We people-watched, then wove through crazy traffic back to GK. MN & JW went to visit MN's mom. AJ went to sleep. I wandered back to this oh-so-dangerous store called FabIndia. My first time wandering alone in more than a week. How strange.

I came back & opened up one of the books I brought. It was Morgan's, "The Secret Life of Bees." On the first page were two little sticky notes she'd written to remind herself of a wedding vendor & a book she wanted to read. It paralyzed me for a moment. Little things she thought she'd have all the time in the world to take care of, now stuck in the front of a book that has a plastic tab, obviously from work, shouting "SIGN HERE" and marking the last page she read. Made me cry. All these little triggers make that sadness well right back up, even though we're now approaching 8 months since her death. JW saying how our crew of friends has so many brothers among us. (Don't I still have a sister, even if she's not alive anymore? How DO I answer that horrible question "how many siblings do you have?") MN's friend wearing a t-shirt that says "Sisters are Forever." When will these things stop being like an electric shock? I don't want to think of Morgan with a sadness so intense it closes my throat & makes me cry. That horrible, horrible weight is so hard to bear. I mean, I don't feel that sadness all the time. But it comes at the strangest moments.

AJ's waiting for me at the restaurant. Tomorrow morning I'm going to MN's workplace to try & upload photos again. Cross your fingers...

S.

2007-12-10T23:18:00.000-08:00

Hi there,

The unsuccessful attempt to upload photos continues. I'm very frustrated. Now that we're back in Delhi, I'll try again to find a wireless cafe, since the connection isn't fast enough on MN's fiance's broadband line. I just spent an hour downloading my photos onto his computer but Blogger won't let me upload. I don't get it.

Anyway, yes, we're back in Delhi. Midday Monday & I'm still in my sleeping clothes! It's nice to have a slow day. We'll go out to lunch with MN's fiance and then head out to celebrate AJ's birthday with her family in Rohini.

We left Jaipur & drove out to Pushkar on Sunday morning. It's a quaint little village -- all vegetarian! -- nestled into a tiny range of hills with a holy lake and lots of ghats (ritual bathing sites used by Hindus). It's also completely overrun with tourists. In particular, with Israelis just out of their military service and with dreadlocked "seekers" out to find all the answers in India. I felt really uncomfortable with so many tourists buying & buying & buying. The whole economy is centered around them. Around us. JW wisely reminded me that we're not that far removed from the hippies & the hash buyers, really. No matter how much I might like to be.

Anyway, we grabbed lunch -- veggie cutlets & sandwich & lassis -- and then wandered along the bazaar and out to the lake. Back to the bazaar again, then up to one of the few Brahma temples in the country. We left our shoes outside, grabbed some flowers & went up the steep steps to make our offering. The marble slabs all over the temple were dedicated to dead loved ones. I couldn't help but think of Morgan as we waited to deposit the flowers. A few old women begged behind the temple "altar." As we descended down the stairs, I saw one old woman walking on hands and feet one-at-a-time up the steep steps to take her turn at the temple. It was obviously incredibly painful for her. Back down to our shoes, which were still there.

I realized that at the bazaars, all the fabric is such a sensory delight that I find myself staring at it, rather than the shopkeepers. I guess part of that is that I don't want to engage with them and start the whole "Namaste, ma'am! Ma'am! To look doesn't mean to buy! Don't you want ___?" process. Sounds so world-weary to say it, but it gets exhausting to do that 50 times over.

We were captivated by one shopkeeper, though, who didn't bother with all that. He hand-paints his t-shirts, and the ones that don't have mushrooms or naked ladies on them are really beautiful. All kinds of variations of Ganesh. The artist took time to talk to us about his village outside Pushkar & his belief that education is the key to improving life & health for people in rural India. He was a gentle man & it was really nice to have a conversation that didn't center around the exchange of money (even though that was obviously why we stopped at his shop in the first place).

We had dinner at a restaurant overlooking the lake, then walked back in the dark to the Jagat Singh Palace. This place is formal & fancy. Much more so than the Diggi Palace in Jaipur. It felt awkward & uncomfortable for both JW & me to be staying in such a luxurious place. But it sure was pretty. Surinder Singh, the driver, was there to greet us. Scolded us for being out too late & said he had worry in his heart. (I think we freaked him out in Jaipur when we disappeared for the hot-air balloon ride & he thought we'd been abducted by "tour guides" out to bleed us dry. He apparently called MN in a panic...)

I woke up early on Sunday & slipped out to the balcony to record the bells & startup of morning traffic. Just caught the transition time on tape.

Then we decided to leave Pushkar, head out to Barefoot College to do my story & then head back toward Delhi. Didn't make sense to backtrack, & neither JW nor I wanted to deal with another day in tourist central. So we drove maybe 60 km out to Tilonia, which was a few kilometers off the main highway. I found the American volunteer I'd spoken with on the phone a few days earlier, & interviewed her. Then we talked with a guy named Ram who is in charge of the rainwater catchment program & the women's groups. Thick accent; not sure how much of the tape is useable. Broke for lunch (dal, veggie curry, chapati & rice, eaten off a tin plate while sitting on the floor -- a breath of fresh air after the fancy palace breakfast), then stopped by the craft store to buy a few more holiday gifts. Then back to touring the old & new campuses.

Barefoot College seems to be one of the few places I've seen in India where hierarchy isn't key. Everyone has knowledge & skills to share. Everyone is welcome. They've got a number of programs in place. Rainwater catchment -- using gutters on school rooftops to collect water in an underground tank for drinking & cooking. Reusing wastewater for agricultural fields. (The same kind of stuff we did in Peace Corps.) Health programs. Training midwives. Combining homeopathic & allopathic medicines to treat various ailments. Solar training -- and this is what I think will make an interesting story. They actually bring in groups of people from other countries (Mali, The Gambia, Sierra Leone, Bolivia, Afghanistan & Bhutan among them) to train on how to solarize their villages & then go back & pass on the knowledge. We met the Bhutanese group. Toy making. Handicraft making. Weaving. Hooking rugs. Using waste products toothpaste containers, boxes, etc.) to make more kids' toys. I was really impressed with the creativity I saw there.

We left after five hours & decided to make the long drive back to Delhi. I hadn't had any water all day & was feeling that manic sort of Westerner/tourist guilt, so I brooded in the backseat for a while. Stopped for water & biscuits & I felt much better. It took us almost 7 hours to get back to Delhi. Truck traffic was horrendous, despite Surinder Singh's amazing driving skills. He laughed at us as we tried out Hindi & Punjabi phrases. Even called his wife & put JW on the phone to show off how much/little we know. We arrived at MN's fiance's flat & here we are.

I'll keep trying with these photos. Bear with me. I hope you're all well!

S.

2007-12-08T06:21:00.000-08:00

Sleepy Skyeball checking in from Jaipur. It's 8-something at night & it feels like 2 a.m.

We had a long day today. Got up at 5:15 a.m. to take the hour-long drive out to Samode. The streets of Jaipur were quiet. (Made me think of how much I love driving through LA at this time of day. As I told one Alabama cinematographer, it's the time when the city shakes off sleep. You see the most interesting things.) I saw old men leaning over fires, trying to warm up. I saw rickshaw drivers asleep in their "cabs." I saw people wrapped in blankets on the sidewalk. Everyone seems to drive with high-beams on. There are random roadblocks -- kind of a slalom-type thing -- for no apparent reason. But I digress.

We arrived at Samode Palace just as it was getting light. There were two balloons & about a dozen staff members of this new company, Sky Waltz. It's the first hot-air balloon company in India (having negotiated the maze of government bureaucracy to get the necessary permits to start up). They just became official in November. Right now they're taking journalists and VIPs out. They hope to start taking up paying customers in the next week or so...at US$350 a pop!

I jumped in with the recorder, getting in everyone's way as they set up the balloon & inflated it. Pictures and recording -- had to alternate between the two. Damn, those flame-throwing machines are loud! JW & I ended up with an American pilot named Steve who's been ballooning since 1978. He's here for six months to help start up the company & get it going. Then he'll split his time between Eastport, Maine & a suburb of Phoenix. He cracked jokes & made us laugh the whole time, while keeping a steady hand. He learned to fly when he was a teenager & says he loves being in anything that's in the air.

It was such a gentle ride. We eased off the ground & just floated up oh-so-slowly. Hugged the ridgelines so close that the treetops scraped against the wicker basket from time to time. Our balloon would "kiss" the other one every once in a while, but they didn't even really bounce off each other. We could see rabbits & monkeys in the brush. The best part by far was the kids, who would run kilometers to keep up with the balloon, hoping it would land in their village. We floated up there for about an hour. Steve would give the balloon a blast of that flame-throwing thing every once in a while (which made for really hard recording, since the Marantz peaked every time he threw flames).

My favorite part of all this was the landing. We were all braced for a bumpy landing, but it was gentle too. We sank down to just above these villages. The cows & goats that were staked in place freaked out every time Steve blasted the flame up. The kids shouted "hello" and "come down" in Hindi, waving & laughing & running. We almost put down in someone's garden, but Steve pulled us back up & out another five minutes. He set us down in the dirt just next to a paved road, on the very very edge of a field that hadn't been planted. Within two minutes there were probably 150 or 200 people crowded around the balloon to check it -- and the journalists -- out. Tata trucks & motorcycles pulled over so people could watch. Kids were laughing, men were making slightly uncomfortable eye contact, a brave few reached out to shake hands with me. Women seemed to hang back for the most part, though two lovely ladies hiding their faces behind their saris laughed with/at me & invited me into their homes for lunch. I wish I could have gone.

We waited for the chase vehicle to find us & all kind of looked at each other with a little disbelief. This is the thing, & JW pegged it just right: we were equally spectacles to each other. The villagers were awed by this rainbow-colored balloon & the odd people inside it. (Especially the one wearing headphones & holding a microphone!) The folks inside the balloon were overwhelmed by the attention & the excitement at our presence there. I think the village was called Namal?? I'll have to go back to my tape to listen again. I spoke a little bit with one man through an interpreter who works for the hotel we took off from. He said he was happy we were there. He wanted to know where we were from. But mostly we smiled at each other & waded through that wonderful awkwardness of two worlds bumping up against each other. I loved it.

We came back to Samode Palace & were treated to a tasty breakfast. Guava juice. Idlis (rice cakes) in some yummy sauce. Aloo curry of some sort. Cheese. Fresh fruit (!!!). Then we walked around the palace a little bit. It's a working hotel, but is one of the few, if not the only, palace that's still owned by the original family. Truly, truly beautiful. I've got to upload these pictures as soon as I can find wireless. (Hopefully tomorrow night in Pushkar.)

Anyway, then it was back to Jaipur. We hit a traffic jam maybe 20 minutes into the ride. A political rally for BJP Congress politicians. Cars & trucks & motorcycles & carts going every which way, both sides of the road. Incessant horn-beeping. Edging up, up, up but not really going anywhere for probably 4o minutes. Finally a policeman diverted us off the main road & through a few alleyways & we came back out on the highway & got back to 60 km/hour instead of 1 km/hour. Took almost two hours to get home!

We rested a little, then walked along SMS and MI Roads up to the Old City. The only foreigners walking on the road, hence lots of curious stares. Jaipur is known as the "Pink City" because so many of its buildings in the old part of town have the same pink paint. It's particularly striking when the sun heads down toward dusk. JW & I wandered through the various bazaars. Storefront after storefront after storefront, all narrow & with these couches lining one of the walls. Cushions for the salesmen, all of whom remove their shoes. EVERY single storefront had a man inside hawking his stuff. They have the same lines: "Ma'am! Ma'am! You like scarf? Pashmina? Or these shoes? Lovely shoes. Just one dollar, 50 rupees! Ma'am! To look is free. Come inside... Come, sit."

There's also a group of guys, very well-dressed, who stand around with mobile phones in their hands & start chatting you up to get you to go see their jewelry. Best prices around. Would I lie to you? Come see, just inside that building over there, just past the paper kites... They always ask you where you're from & then make sure to mention they have friends in this & that American city. They're persistent too. One even had his friend vouch for his authenticity. That friend claimed to have spent time in San Anselmo, CA.

Anyway, it's exhausting just walking around. Dodging cow poop. Eyeing the piles of guavas longingly -- if only fresh fruit washed in bad water didn't cause that lovely "Delhi belly." Twisting and turning around everyone else walking the same paths. A few rupees here & there for some of the beggars. Dodged motorcycles, bicycles & rickshaws. The colors of the saris & purses & bedcovers in these shops are truly amazing. Both JW & I ended up investing in a few tie-dye scarves that are bright & beautiful for our holiday gifts. We bought many of them from an old man who was one of the few who didn't try to press us to buy more, more, more. He didn't really seem to give a crap, actually. But he kept pulling out the cotton lumps from the piles in his storefront & snapping them open, breaking the threads & unfurling these gorgeous vegetable dye designs on the cotton. Sensory overload, like the rest of India...

Sarinder Singh, our driver, picked us up midway through the Johri Bazaar. Gotta say it was nice to sink into the back seat & head back to Diggi for a quiet meal & catching up on email. And that's day five in India. Tomorrow we may head to Amber Fort & then to Pushkar if we get an early enough start. Otherwise we'll head straight south.

I feel so alive. All senses on alert. Soaking in everything around me (except enough Hindi). JW keeps snapping these photos of me smiling wide. I'm happy for the first time in a long while.

S.

2007-12-07T06:15:00.000-08:00

Greetings from Jaipur, Rajasthan State. We drove out today -- six hours with a stop for lunch. It's so bizarre to be hiring a driver and staying in this fancy pants place called Hotel Diggi Palace. It affirms all those horrible stereotypes about westerners waltzing into other countries & living the high life (for US$70/night). Only I think we're not doing that. Only we are...without trying to. More on that later...

Anyway, it was a beautiful drive. The first two hours were the same route to Neemrana, but then we continued along National Highway (NH) 8. Sarinder Singh is the man behind the wheel. He's a sweet Sikh guy with a limited English vocabulary. And our Hindi at this point consists of little more than "hello," "happy wedding," "where is ___," "I'm sleepy" and something dirty I shouldn't type out here. So there's lots of "what?" and awkward silences and smiles all the way around.

India is Morgan's colors all wrapped together. Pinks. Bright aqua. Red and yellow. This gorgeous rich orange tinged with pink. I was thinking as we wandered through Dilli Haat, this craft market in Delhi, how much I love the vibrancy of this place. For all the crowds & chaos, it's so very beautiful. In fact, that's part of what makes it beautiful. But I digress.

The women on the backs of motorcycles sit sideways here. Not sure if that's modesty talking or the challenge of where to put all that sari material... I saw a few people riding three to a motorcycle. Many more camel-pulled carts. Bicycles with paniers on either side piled high with old tins and plastic containers, bags full of recyclables. You name it. Bulls were squashed up inside pick-up trucks, their necks stretched upward. I saw one man caressing the back haunch of the bull he was holding. The back of every Tata truck says "SOUND HORN!" You beep when you're coming up close so they know not to slide over and into you. There seems to be a pecking order of cars first, then trucks, then motorcycles, then auto-rickshaws, then bicycles & rickshaws (pedal-powered). I'm struck by the fact that I haven't seen one instance of road rage except for that accident at the Khan Market.

So we arrived at Diggi and were shocked at the opulence of it. It's an old family home that's been turned into a heritage hotel. A big grass lawn. Flowers all over. Courtyards and porticos. Our room is HUGE. Granite floors. Sitting area. Armoire. We put our stuff down & put blankets on the beds. (I've got a wool sweater on now, if that's any indication of how chilly it is. I mean, it's probably low 50s at the moment, and dropping down to the 4os later. And we're blessed with that rare commodity, a heater, if it turns too cold for comfort.)

Then we headed out to walk out to and then along the main drag in Jaipur. First the dirt road from Diggi out to the SRS road. A portable toilet, multiple stalls, reeking of urine & more. The pipe leading out of it was cracked open. Rickshaw drivers called out to us. Miss! Ma'am! Hello! Hello! We slipped into the steady stream of people walking along SRS. There were a few clumps of women and children who were cooking meals over open fires on the sidewalk. The traffic was zooming by us. No California pedestrian-first laws in place here -- you have to haul across the street if you see the slightest little break in traffic. And both Delhi & Jaipur are full of roundabouts, which makes crossing the street even more of an adventure.

Turned left onto MI, which is a rather fancy shopping street. Lots of jewelry stores (Jaipur is known for its silver), food shops, a few clothing shops (womens' storefront outfits including capris, even though I haven't seen a single pair worn here). Tailors. Shoeshiners. A tyre shop. General stores, skinny NYC-style. Narrow little sidewalks. We were the only tourists out until we came across a couple running. In the dark. In the pollution. In tight pants. On a really crowded street. I was embarrassed for them. (Just like people walking in Lodhi Park the other day were probably embarrassed for me.)

Tomorrow morning we're going to go for a hot-air balloon ride! MN's fiance arranged it. I'm hoping to gather some audio for a radio postcard if there's interest. It's the first hot-air balloon company in India, as far as I know. Then recovery from the early morning, then hopefully some walking around the Old City area. I'd like to visit Amber Fort too, if there's time.

I put in a call to Barefoot College & it looks like we'll go there Monday. Can't wait! They lead these solar trainings & people come from Bhutan, Bolivia, etc. to learn how to solarize & then take the skills back to their villages around the world. So interesting. (To me, at least.)

So, westerner wandering through India. I've come to the conclusion that it does me no good to feel guilty about how much I have compared to the people I've seen in Delhi & Jaipur. But it's yet another reminder not to ever take for granted how lucky I am in the grand scheme of things.

This kid came begging up to the car window the other night, when we were driving back from Neemrana. Open, scabby sores all over his chest and shoulders. He was making these moaning noises because his tongue had been cut. Apparently it was likely done by the beggar-master in charge of him. (Someone said they'll cut off limbs to make the kids look bad enough that people will give to them when they beg.) I looked in his eyes for just a moment & felt paralyzed. Give money? I don't have coins. Give food? Don't have any in the car. Don't give? But then isn't that bad? I mean, I have so much compared to him. But if I give, then shouldn't I give to everyone? It's such a sticky situation. You can't fix this. You know it's so far from right that you have so much & these kids are starving. But what's the right thing to do?

So I sit here in the internet "cafe" at Diggi, listening to drums in the background. Recorded some chanting from a religious ceremony in the distance earlier. We'll go buy dinner in a few minutes, then sleep well in a fancy room. What's that kid doing tonight? What will he do every night for the next 5 years? I feel this gnawing in the pit of my stomach. These aren't easy questions. It's not easy to see. But it's crucial to rub up against them and feel that layer of my skin come off. It's crucial to feel uncomfortable. It's crucial to think these things through instead of ignoring them.

Off the soapbox. Internet time is up. Hope you're all well...

S.

2007-12-05T22:58:00.000-08:00

Mid-morning, December 6th. It's been a bit of a whirlwind...

The other day after checking email, AJ & I left the market area where the internet cafe is and walked right into a fight. One guy was turning onto the one-way street to Kan Market. The other guy was backing up & backed his fancy Civic right into the turner. Then he tried to blame the turner for the accident. They got up face-to-face & it wasn't too pretty.

We all went walking in Lodhi Garden down the street. Beautiful big trees. Parakeets & mynahs & kites all over. A big fort in whose crevices young couples like to hide. And a few old above-ground grave dome kind of things with these vast insides. Cold stone & lots of light. There was a little kid just learning to walk who had the biggest smile on her face! Hiding behind her mom's legs, then bobbing off in a new direction...

Then it was off to meet with the caterer at the Gymkhana Club where the wedding reception will be held. Negotiations. A few mosquitos. Tea and toast at this oh-so-colonial relic. A late-night hunt for a restaurant that would give us take-out at 10:30 p.m. Ended up with pizza, & it wasn't so bad. MN & fiance discussed the ongoing family drama in the other room. It's not pretty.

Yesterday morning we went for a run in Lodhi Park. These lungs aren't liking the Delhi air too much. It was pretty though. Got a "good morning" from a group of schoolboys who were sussing out my accent. It felt good to run fast. Then we had to jump in an auto-rickshaw to get back home as quickly as we could to get to lunch in time.

Then we headed out to Neemrana, in northern Rajasthan state. It was MN's birthday and her fiance wanted to treat her -- us -- to lunch at this beautiful old fort tucked up on the hillside. It was maybe 150 km out from central Delhi. It was stunning. Beautiful old rock. Soaring archways. Right up against this curving mountain. I could see & hear goats clambering around on the rocks. We turned off NH8 and wound our way through a market area and onto this dirt road. Twisted and turned. Dodged cows and even a camel-pulled cart. It felt like the buildings were leaning over above us. Beautiful, brightly-colored saris. A few stares. Silver shops. Little kids laughing and playing. And signs pointing up, up, up the hill.

The buffet lunch was amazing. Bindi in some kind of red sauce. Palak paneer. (I learned that palak is a type of sag, or green leafy veg, but sag is not a palak. AHA!) Tandoori-cooked gobi. I don't even like cauliflower & this was delicious. We sat & enjoyed the cool mountain air. Laughed. Talked. Ate. Laughed some more. Explored. Looked out at the village below us & the vast dry area beyond.

Then on the way home we hit the lovely Delhi traffic. It took four hours to drive home! FOUR HOURS in this crazy, wild, weaving, honking jerk-to-a-stop traffic with people darting across wherever they could. Man. We went through the entire repertoire of American music, with MN's fiance wincing in the driver's seat. (Wincing from the traffic, of course, not JW's amazing ability to hold a tune!) We were exhausted by the time we got home.

So still no working cellphone for me & JW. We were going to borrow someone's Nokia, but when we turned it on there was a graphic digital image of two people in flagrante delicto. With "shit" written beneath the image. No matter what we do, we can't make the picture go away. Now the phone isn't working either. So we'll have to figure something out today.

Looks like AJ will head out to visit her family today. JW & I are heading to Rajasthan tomorrow. Looks like two days in Jaipur & two in Pushkar/Ajmer. (Udaipur & Jodhpur are too far, given other things we need to do. Too bad -- I really wanted to see them.)

I've found a potential story idea I want to explore. Has to do with capacity-building & appropriate technology. But I swear it'll be more interesting than those sound. Barefoot College. Google it & see what you get...

Anyway, after that we'll head back to Delhi. If I'm motivated enough, I may do a two-night trip out to Varanasi to visit the Ganges & explore a little. JW will stay to help MN with wedding plans. Somewhere between the wedding days I'm hoping to squeeze in a trip to Agra to see the Taj Mahal. Preferably at sunset.

I feel like there's so much other stuff I want to see. JW & I are heading to a few markets today to look for holiday gifts for family. I have a feeling this trip is going to go by far too quickly. As usual...

I will try to post some pictures when I can. I'm not sure where there's wireless around here.

Hope you're all well!

S.

2007-12-04T01:43:00.000-08:00

Greetings from Delhi...

We arrived late last night -- around midnight Monday, Delhi time. We had a three-hour delay on the runway in Newark due to a little plane de-icing. The flight was long, but uneventful. This cute little girl named Alicia in the row ahead kept us occupied with high-fives and smiles. So did the Indian version of Jake Gyllenhal (sp?), minus the high-fives. (A striking resemblance, I swear.) The veggie Indian meals were actually decent. The entertainment system kept shutting off every minute or so, so no movies for us. I completely lost track of what time I was supposed to take what medication. Made it through two books. AJ & JW slept a little more than I was able to. But we all survived & hobbled our way into the smoky air at the airport. (Construction.) Luggage arrived safely. MN and fiance were there to meet us & drive us back to our lodging spot.

I was up until 4 a.m., then slept fitfully. We finally got out for a late lunch on the roof deck of this little shopping area in central Delhi. We're staying in a really nice place that MN's fiance's father arranged. Safe, clean, and really close to everything.

So the beeping of horns is a constant here. The traffic is insane. Nobody stays within the lines, and it's every man for himself. You flash the lights to tell people to get out of the way. You beep the horn just because. There's usually not anger or malice behind it. Parking lots are insanely crowded. American SUVs wouldn't do too well here. Lots of people walking, biking, looking, watching. People in saris. White tourists in salwar kameez. The busy-ness of life goes on around us. The pace is much less frenzied. As my former heroine Orphan Annie sang, I think I'm gonna like it here.

Later today: accompanying MN to the tailor. Then to the gymkhana club to meet with the fiance and the caterer. Then possibly to Old Delhi for another errand. MN's birthday is tomorrow. We'll have to find a way to make her feel wonderful, since her family drama is pretty draining right now.

I'm so glad to be here. I feel alive again, instead of slogging through a sludge of sadness and grief. I mean, it's still there. Always will be. But my focus is on this exciting new place for now.

Hope you're all well...

S.

2007-12-01T18:28:00.000-08:00

I'd so much rather write a little blog entry than pack, let me tell you. The floor of my room is covered with clothes, toiletries, plastic bags, jackets etc. Gotta pack for two climates: Delhi (like NYC fall, according to MN) and the Hudson Valley of New York (not so like NYC fall anymore).

There are three separate wedding events, all of which require different types of clothing. I've decided to bring a few of everything and wing it... Besides, I'm planning to wear a sari to the wedding reception. I'll have to learn how to bhangra dance -- "pet the kitty and twist the lightbulb," says Ms. AHL -- with all this fabric on me. A welcome challenge...

GG the cat is sticking right by my side, all day long. The second I pulled down the suitcase, she knew. It breaks my heart to leave her, but I know she'll be fine.

I'm a little nervous about being out of regular contact with my mom, dad and brother. It'll be the first time since Morgan died that I can't just hit speed dial to talk with them. It's healthy, I know -- moving forward and all -- but now there's always a "what if" dangling somewhere in the background. At the same time, once the worst thing that can happen does happen, you learn that all that worrying does you no good. So this is Morgan's gift to me: a renewed sense of wonder at the the beauty AND the challenges of life, a commitment to seizing opportunities and living in the moment -- warts and all. (Thanks, Morgie Porgie. I miss you so much.)

Back to packing...

2007-11-28T11:13:00.000-08:00

I've never been this unprepared for a trip overseas! Guess I just have to go with it and be okay with having passport, visa, plane ticket, my recording equipment and the dates in (December 3) and out (December 22). And I've got the three days of MN's wedding celebrations in Delhi too: the 15th, 18th and 20th.

There's a vague plan to spend most of the time in Delhi. I hope to take a week and visit a few places in Rajasthan. Jaipur. Udaipur. Maybe Jodhpur? Maybe Pushkar? I would like to sit by the Ganges to people-watch and -- oh you tourist! -- get close to the Taj Mahal at sunset. And a radio friend has won me over with descriptions of the Krishna-lovin' "widow town" Vrindavan too.

I'm going to India first and foremost to celebrate my good friend MN marrying her true love, despite more than their fair share of obstacles. But I also want to experience a little bit of this place for myself. And I desperately need a little healing after the worst year of my life.

I've lost my sister and would give everything in a heartbeat to have her with us, 26 and married, full of laughter and road-rage, at the beginning of her life instead of the end. But that's not meant to be, for whatever reason. I hope I can find some answers in India, answers that haven't become clear in seven months of grieving and attempting the one-step-forward-two-steps-back of learning to live life without Morgan. Bear with me. It's a been a journey to a new world in itself.

So I'm raising my glass to a few weeks of the unknown. May it summon up that spark of curiosity and awareness of the wider world that's been buried since April 20th. I look forward to sharing a little slice of India with you...

2007-02-25T11:32:00.000-08:00

EN ROUTE

sunset, leaving NYC

Sal Island, Cape Verde Islands, after plane refueling

JOHANNESBURG

tea our first morning in Johannesburg

Apartheid Museum

the view from the Apartheid Museum toward downtown Joburg
(yes, that is a roller coaster)

in traffic on the way to the Joburg Airport

2007-02-25T10:55:00.000-08:00

SOWETO

Black Madonna in the Regina Mundi Catholic Church
(site of many political meetings during the 1976 Soweto Uprising)

see the peace sign?

armless Jesus, Regina Mundi Catholic Church

the great divide, Kliptown

shacks in Kliptown

the main drag, Kliptown
(each port-a-potty is shared by up to 6 families, each of whom have a key to the lock)

portrait, Kliptown

Porto shows us the toilet where Mandela "enjoyed himself"

Orlando West, the nicest neighborhood in Soweto

Soweto tag

drinking in the shebeen

dinner in our shack, Orlando East

hanging out with our hosts, Amy and her sons

our shack in daylight

with our guides, Eunice and Spongila, in Eunice's shack

2007-02-25T09:55:00.000-08:00

KRUGER NATIONAL PARK

giraffe

jackals

the smallest antelope in the park

genet

wild dog (rarest mammal in the park)

wildebeest

wildebeest and impala

rhinos

zebra

buffalo

elephant

baboons

vervet monkey mother and baby

leopard on the road

hiking with Rodney and Dingen

Kruger horizon on the bush walk

Kruger sunrise

mud pools

Rodney digs a water hole in the "dry" riverbed

Kruger sunset on the night ride

2007-02-24T23:28:00.000-08:00

CAPE TOWN
(a.k.a. TRYING TO TAKE PHOTOS WHILE LOOKING LIKE YOU AREN'T CARRYING A CAMERA)

street in Bo-Kaap, the Muslim area where our B&B was

mosque on Long Street, City Bowl

wire creations by the artists at Streetwires

Sean and his skewer o' antelope

working en route to Robben Island

looking back at Cape Town from the ferry to Robben Island

best bus tour guide ever, Robben Island

anyone wonder why there's a sign HERE?

through the keyhole in the Maximum Security Prison

the wall of the exercise area

Mandela's cell

our guide at the Maximum Security Prison (and a former prisoner there)

African penguin colony, which we visited after we missed the ferry back

Robben Island sign

dock at Robben Island

Kirstenbosch Botanical Gardens

cathedral in City Bowl area

the "tablecloth" over Table Mountain

Rose Street, Bo-Kaap

on the road to Table Mountain

Platteklip Gorge from the bottom

this is about 10 times steeper than it looks

moving a little more slowly...

looking down at the Indian Ocean side from the top of Table Mountain

Cape Town from the cable car leaving the top of Table Mountain

2007-02-24T23:08:00.000-08:00

A DAY IN THE WINELANDS

the goats at Fairview Winery, Paarl

Fairview Winery, Paarl

Sean conquers the rental car

yours truly, tasting at Boschendal Winery

Sean at Boschendal

the view at Boschendal

Boschendal grapes

cheetah conservation at Spier Winery, Stellenbosch

our new friend Joseph

with Joseph

ferocious beast

fishermen at the beach near Khayelitsha

sunset in Noordhoek

2007-02-24T22:40:00.000-08:00

EXPLORING THE CAPE

just after being knocked out of the kayak by a wave

you don't see this too often!

man in Simon's Town

African penguins near Boulders Beach

See how close you can get?

looking toward the South Pole from Cape Point

the "new" lighthouse on Cape Point, built 1919

view from the Cape of Good Hope

steep stairs down to where the Indian and Atlantic Oceans meet

Sean vs. the big waves

Cape of Good Hope

the view from our bedroom in Noordhoek

sunset our last night in South Africa

2007-02-23T18:32:00.000-08:00

Back home after almost 48 hours of traveling. I'll give you the basics and try to upload pictures later this weekend.

We spent our last day in Cape Town proper doing the typical tourist activity: going to the top of Table Mountain. But being...shall we say...optimistic, we decided to walk from our B&B in Bo-Kaap all the way to the top. I have no idea how far it was, but it took 1 1/4 hours to hike to the trailhead and another 1 1/4 hours or so to get up Platteklip Gorge to the top. The first half involved breathing in lots of diesel exhaust and waving away taxi drivers saying we really should catch a ride instead of walking. The second half was the hardest hike I've ever done in my life. That includes 20-mile-a-day treks through the Sierra Nevada with a 35-pound pack on my back! You see, it's all steps. Big steps. No problem for guys over 6 feet tall, but a bit of a haul for this 5'7" gal to hoist herself from one step to the next. It's also very, very steep. We made it, but I was sweaty and exhausted and not breathing so well by the top. And I consider myself fit! (Maybe not anymore.)

That said, it was gorgeous. The first day the weather had been clear enough up top to open it up to visitors out of the last three days. We looked at the fynbos vegetation on the top, drank a ton of water to recover, talked to a nice guy who had come to South Africa from Germany decades before and then got into the revolving cable car to ride down and soak in the view.

We opted for a taxi to get back down to the City Bowl area. It was full of tourists: Brits, Finnish, German and one of the more obnoxious Americans spouting "gee, shucks, your government could make a lot of money if they just caught Osama! haw haw haw!" kind of stuff. I was cringing. I was thinking maybe it's time to sew a Canadian flag onto the backpack... But we survived.

We had our last city dinner at a Cape Malay restaurant on Wale Street not too far from the B&B. Also found out our fellow guests at the B&B had been almost-mugged outside the B&B the day before... Thanks to some attentive neighbors, the would-be thieves got the you-know-what kicked out of them and the tourists held onto their wallets. But I digress. The meal was fantastic. Cape Malay food is hard to describe. I guess it's Indian with a twist. Almost Asian at moments. Very good for meat eaters and, as usual, pretty limited for vegetarians. Veggie curry. Most excellent. Sean had some kind of sweet-and-sour lamb thing.

The next day we got our rental car. Sean bravely took the wheel -- on the "wrong" side of the car, on the "wrong" side of the street -- and we drove through morning traffic out to the N1 and on to the wine country. We tried three different wineries. Fairmont had some good wines and some very tasty goat cheeses. Boschendal is one of the oldest wineries in the area and had tasty wines and a nice tour of the facilities. And Spier, well, we never made it to a wine tasting because I wanted to go pet a cheetah. Yes, I'm officially a Tourist. Hey, what can I say? How often do you get the chance to pet a cheetah for $10 and have the money go toward cheetah conservation? So we petted Joseph's back and sides while he purred and nuzzled his handler. Good times all around.

We spent the night with a friend of a friend in Noordhoek, which is a beach community maybe 40 minutes south of Cape Town proper. She was such a generous hostess to take us in for our last two nights! We tried Cuban food SA-style, which was -- once again -- not so great for this vegetarian. But it was nice to get to know HK and to see a little more of the beach communities as we drove from the winelands to her house and back out for dinner.

Our last day was the 21st. We got up and drove out to Simon's Town, maybe 20 minutes away, to go kayaking on the Indian Ocean by Boulders Beach, where the African penguins have a huge colony. We met Derek, our guide, and paddled out in fits and starts toward the beach. Let's just say I'm a bit of a back seat driver and more of a "back seat paddler" in a two-person kayak...especially when headed toward large metal piers owned by the South African Navy! We were halfway there when the coast guard equivalent zoomed up to us and told us we couldn't go any farther because they were doing underwater explosions. Just at that moment we felt a little one rock the boat and then make a sound a few seconds later. Derek pleaded. No go. So we turned around and paddled into the wind toward Long Beach. Actually, it was the beach next to Long Beach. I forget the name. Anyway, we saw two penguins in the water. Lots of cormorants. We tried to catch the wave onto shore, but we didn't paddle fast enough. So the next wave caught us and blew us both out of the kayak. I was worried about my camera in the "waterproof" bag, but it was okay. We hung out on the beach for a while, dumped the water out of the kayak, and then headed back out to sea. Derek was trying to lift the front of the kayak up over a wave, but the handle broke and we fell right into another wave. Smack in the face! We paddled like crazy and got over the hump of the wave, then waited for Derek to do the same. My arms were sore by the end of that trip...but it was a neat way to explore a little piece of the coastline.

We wandered around Simon's Town, grabbed lunch, and then drove down to Boulders Beach itself. A kind soul directed us toward the "free" area to see the penguins up close, so we hung out with them for a while. They're so used to humans being around them. I could have reached out and touched them! But I refrained, as did Sean. Just took photos and a few videos.

On we went to Cape Point, which may beat the top of Table Mountain for sheer numbers of tourists. We quaked every time we saw baboons on the road, since they're known for being very bold and occasionally vicious toward food-toting tourists. No run-ins though. I made Sean roll up the windows every time we drove by one.

We walked up to the old lighthouse, then out along a trail to the new one. Then we went off on a side trail that was 2/3 boardwalks along the span of rock between Cape Point and the Cape of Good Hope. (Did you know they were two different spots?) Dipped our toes in the funky yellow foam of the ocean. Hauled up another very steep set of stairs back to the boardwalk. Took in the view at the Cape of Good Hope. Then hiked back.

We hit our first real spot of rain on the scenic route back from Cape Point along the "Misty Shores" region. I was clutching the armrest because the cliff was on the left side of the car and I wasn't quite sure Sean always knew how close he was driving to the left side of the road. Was also trying to read the map. We learned that even the windshield wipers go the "wrong" way. But we survived. Back to HK's house, where we ate pizza, gave her Persian kitties some love and then repacked the bags.

Thursday morning we drove early back to the airport to return the rental car and avoid another day's fee. Sat around for four hours. Got a package from a radio friend to carry home and send to one of his friends here in the States. Flew from Cape Town to Joburg. Braved the bitchy ladies at the VAT tourist refund office -- and, for Sean, the currency exchange place. Braved the pat-downs and pawing through of bags by security people at the airport. (Side note: I find embarassing that all flights to the U.S. are set aside in random corners of international airports to deal with all these extra rules and regs from the TSA. Yet another example of that oh-so-American flavor that I think many people in the rest of the world find either amusing or terrifying.) Then we braved the 17-hour flight to NYC.

This time we stopped in Dakar, Senegal. I was excited, since I've always wanted to go there. But because it was once again in the middle of the night, I couldn't see much besides men in yellow reflective vests and a sign for the Aeroporte de somebody. Hey, I took Dramameine. It's all a little foggy.

We got to JFK just after 6 this morning. Got our bags, took the lovely Air Train to Jet Blue and checked the bags in at 7:30. Another four-hour wait. Learned about Britney's meltdown and that Anna Nicole Smith, whose death was the headline the day we left, is STILL the top news story two weeks later. Wandered unsuccessfully in search of an internet kiosk. Then sat through the longest Jet Blue flight in history. It wasn't delayed, but I was really damn tired of being in planes.

Still, we survived. We arrived at Long Beach. My kind uncle was there to greet us. My green bag was not. Initially. Turns out the airport folks had hidden it "backstage" for some reason. We jumped onto the 710 and braved Friday traffic. Picked up my car, took the surface roads, and arrived home to a hungry cat and a big pile of mail.

There you have it. No wrenching feeling at leaving South Africa as there always is with PNG, but I'm so glad to have had the chance to explore it a little. I wish we'd had two more weeks. I keep thinking about how so many of the trees there are like big umbrellas: expansive, reaching out, offering comfort and shade. I think of the op-ed I read in the Joburg paper that talked about Africans' patience...what people from other cultures often see as laziness, do-nothing or being bums...is really knowing how to be patient. I like that. It's a skill I hope to -- and need to -- improve.

So many South Africans are excited for the soccer World Cup in 2010. They're building new stadiums, beefing up efforts to improve the safety and security situation. Some question what that money could do if it were put toward social services. But they also fear that the World Cup will freak out and deem SA "not safe enough" to hold the games. I hope that's not the case. It's a great place. Let me know if you want some recommendations and keep an eye out for that South African Airways two-tickets-for-the-price-of-one deal...

And keep an eye out for the "best of" pictures coming your way in the next day or two.

2007-02-18T08:23:00.000-08:00

Hi all,

Sunburned Skyeball reporting from the "Mama City." I'd like to express my displeasure with Neutrogena Oil-Free Sunscreen SPF 45. It doesn't work under the African sun -- which, I must say, may beat out the Aussie sun for skin scorching.

Anyway, we found an internet cafe that charges R5 (less than US$1) for an hour of service...so here we are.

The flight from Johannesburg to Cape Town was a little rocky. We had one of those one-side-of-the-plane-down-and-then-the-other moments. I'm a veteran flyer, but I had an uh-oh moment there. When we got off the plane and the wind whipped our hair up in our faces, I understood why. It's windy here in Cape Town. Guess that's understandable, seeing as it's almost as far south as you can go before hitting Antarctica...and close to where the Atlantic Ocean meets the Indian Ocean.

We caught a cab (not a taxi -- they are the 15-passenger minivans that speed around town) to the neighborhood we're staying in: Bo-Kaap. It was formerly the neighborhood for Cape Town's "coloured," or mixed-race, population. Now it's a big Muslim neighborhood. We hear the call to prayer every morning at 4:30. The houses are all painted really bright colors and there are cobblestone streets here and there. Bo-Kaap is close to one of the big touristy areas, Long Street. So we unpacked and then headed down there to check it out. (After my phone calls to Robben Island Museum, story TK.)

So yeah, tourists. Everywhere. All of them carrying backpacks and looking nervous. A few people have been mugged in daylight on Long Street recently. Add that to South Africa's overall reputation as a dangerous place and you've got a lot of sunburned white people clutching their bags for dear life. We haven't had any problems at all, aside from one guy who got very close to Sean while he was looking for a bottle of Pinotage wine today. I stepped in between them and forced a little distance...so nothing happened. But we *have* been taking cabs home at night, even if it's just a few blocks, because the streets are dark and we figure it's better to spend a few bucks than lose much more than that.

So we wandered. The stores all close at 5:30 p.m. here, so it was all about restaurant scoping and people watching. We grabbed beers/ciders at a corner cafe. There is an excellent hard cider here called Savannah Dry that I highly recommend, should you find yourself in South Africa. The beers, well, Sean has not been too impressed yet. We ended up going to a game restaurant. I got the veggie platter, which was very good. Sean got this massive skewer of 3 different antelope that was taller than he was. Can't speak for the meat, but he seemed happy.

We are staying in a B&B called Rose Lodge, run by a nice Canadian guy named Bruce. He has two dogs. The room is exquisitely decorated. We can hear people on the street through our windows. It's good and safe and really reasonably priced. So after being jolted awake by the call to prayer, we headed out to Robben Island, where Nelson Mandela was incarcerated for almost two decades.

The Back Story. As soon as we got to Rose Lodge, I tried to call the Robben Island Museum. I'd emailed three times from the U.S. to get official permission to interview for a story I pitched to a public radio show. No answer. So I called. No room on the tours for all three days we're here. But the lady recommended we show up the next morning and see if there were cancellations. So we did. We trekked over to the V&A Waterfront -- the supremely touristy area -- and asked at the desk. The woman said "Want to go now?" We bought tickets and were in the boat in 5 minutes. Since I'd promised this piece on how former prisoners from Robben Island are now tour guides as part of South Africa's Truth and Reconciliation process, I breathed a very, very big sigh of relief.

It's a 45-minute boat ride out to Robben Island. We got there and hopped onto an old bus. I knew I had to rush on to get a good seat near the tour guide in front. Poor Sean had me holding out the mike in front of his face the whole time. We had a great, lively tour guide who had been involved with the PAC, the Pan-African Congress, during apartheid era. He had lots of stories and insults for people of all nationalities. Ours had to do with Hillary Clinton taking a trip to Robben Island with Mandela while Bill was "busy" back in the White House. And Michael Jackson. And world domination. You get the point. But he was a great introducer to this strange place called Robben Island. It has, at various points, been a mental asylum, a home for people with leprosy and home to both criminals and politicians who opposed the apartheid government. We drove around and then got off at the maximum-security prison, where Mandela and many others were held.

The luck of the slightly Irish must have been with me. Our guide was one of the former prisoners, and he agreed to let me tape -- and talk to him afterward -- because it was for public, not commercial, radio. He is an interesting guy. I am so fascinated by the fact that he left a steady office job to come live and work on Robben Island. He says he loves the place. And he says the best thing he can do is to help other people learn about the history of SA and that it is possible to move forward from such dark days as apartheid. The woman standing with him said to me that it all boils down to what Nelson Mandela said: "We must forgive, but never forget."

I'm struck by the fact that reconciliation seems to be working, at least a little bit. Race relations are by no means perfect here. But there seems to be a genuine effort to move beyond the pain and shame of pre-1994 to eke out a life under new rules. I don't know that I've seen that happen much in the States.

Anyway, because we stayed to talk with our guide, we ended up missing the boat. So we walked over to where a big group of African penguins were hanging out, watched them, and then scoured the books in the curio shop until the next boat was ready to leave. Let me just say that the waves are really enormous in the southern Atlantic Ocean. They're big and rolling. But the view of Cape Town -- with Table Mountain and the 12 Apostles and Lion's Head and Signal Hill is stunning. It is soooo beautiful.

We dumped my recording equipment back at the B&B and then headed out to Kirstenbosch Gardens. I'd carried the wallet of the wife of a friend of mine from the States, and we delivered it to her at her birthday picnic in Kirstenbosch. It's one of the nicest botanical gardens I've ever seen. Lots of fynbos plants. That's an ecosystem that -- if I have it right -- only exists in the western cape area of South Africa. We hung out with my friend, his wife, their kids and various friends of theirs for a few hours, and then headed out to wander through the gardens and down to the main gate. It was peaceful. A lot of families and groups of friends come there to picnic. I know I would if I lived here!

We came back and got dropped off at the V&A Waterfront so Sean could try the beers in a pub called Mitchell's. We watched the Manchester United/Reading soccer game and then wandered. Of course, this being a very small world, we ran right into one British couple who had been with us on the Kruger safari!

As we were trying to go to sleep, this parade started on the hill above Rose Lodge in Bo-Kaap. I could hear it but not see it. Horns and drums everywhere. We listened, then headed to bed. Then, after Sean had fallen asleep, the parade came marching down Rose Street. Glittery uniforms. A few cars following behind the marchers. Apparently they are celebrating the freedom of the slaves in Cape Town. It was a neat festive moment, even from afar.

Today we actually slept in (!!!) and planned to go hike up Table Mountain. But the winds were against us -- the cable car was closed because of gale-force winds. So we decided to explore and try the mountain tomorrow. We walked out to a neighborhood called Green Point and went to the open-air market. There were hundreds of people selling African masks and beadwork and spoons and bowls and fabric. It's tourist central. I bargained for a potato-print fabric that's bright red and yellow and green (my favorite colors these days). Sean bought an interesting little painting -- kind of an abstract group of people at sunset. It's hard to explain. We headed back past the Cape Quarter -- tried and failed to find a store -- and then back at the B&B. Then we walked along the Company Gardens, a free park that runs through the middle of town. People were out picnicking and laying in the grass and wandering. We even saw one couple taking wedding photos. We went to the National Gallery to see a photo exhibit of the work of Santu Mofokeng. It was great stuff: black and white street photography that makes you pause and look again. After sufficient art appreciation, we headed out to the Gardens district. There's a street called Kloof that's full of cafes and restaurants. Sean has not been so happy with the coffee situation here, so he was jonesing for some. We found the Seattle Coffee Company -- a South African company, by the way, not American -- and settled in for a while. And now we're in the Internet cafe. There you have it.

Here are some of the things that have caught my eye:

- They call those traffic calmers near the tolls "rumble humps"
- People in cities (well, Joburg) transport three cows in the back of a standard-size pickup
- South Africans have an interesting way of passing: the car in front moves onto the shoulder and signals on the right, the car behind zooms ahead and then blinks its flashers in thanks
- People on the sidewalk mimic traffic & walk on the left
- Even the tourists beg for money
- I wish I were more fearless
- It's more expensive here than I expected...and easier to be a vegetarian

Anyway, internet time is up and it's time to go get Indian food for dinner. More later.

S.

2007-02-15T09:22:00.000-08:00

Hi all,

It's taken a lot longer to get access to Internet than I expected! We've been in South Africa for six days now...and it's been good so far. Very busy!

We arrived on Saturday night the 10th after two days of traveling: the night flight from Ontario, CA to NYC, a trip into the city to borrow my friend's South African cellphone and have dinner with Dad and his girlfriend, and then a 17-hour flight from JFK to Johannesburg. (We stopped to refuel on Sal Island in the Cape Verde Islands in the middle of the night.) Long flight, swollen feet, veggie meals, free viewings of "The Queen" and "The Departed." Good times.

Joburg is big. It's a very strange combination of first world and third world, if you will. We took a 1/2 hour taxi ride to the B&B we've been staying at off and on...once we FINALLY made it through customs. (They had one person serving an entire plane full of people from NYC, so it was slow going.)

We're staying in a neighborhood called Melville. It's not too far from two universities and is known as one of the few places where it's safe to walk around at night (within reason) and sit outside restaurants to eat dinner. Every house is behind big walls and fences. It reminds me of Port Moresby, PNG in that respect. All the people you see walking are black. Most of the people you see driving are white.

We decided to do our two full days in Joburg tour-style. There's an organization called Taste of Africa run by an interesting guy named Cedric de la France that I decided on. So we went our first morning to the Apartheid Museum, which was wonderful. Lots of interesting photographs and films and descriptions of what went on during a roughly 50-year span when apartheid was part of the country's laws.

Race relations here are strange. Perhaps it's not right of me to say that as an American, since things aren't exactly peachy in the USA, but blacks and whites seem to stay very separate. Melville is known as a "white area." Soweto, where we spent a night (more on that later) is a "black township." Yes, apartheid officially ended in 1994, but this sense of separate worlds still seems to be very much alive and well. I ask questions of everyone I meet about it, but I don't get any clear answers. It's fascinating and disturbing.

Anyway, after the Apartheid Museum, we went to Soweto. It's the place where the riots against apartheid started in 1976. The birthplace of black power, if you will. I'd always though the townships were full of shacks and nothing else, but there are actually very middle-class neighborhoods bordering some of these tin-covered tiny shacks with shared porta-potties. The population of Soweto is 4 million people, as opposed to roughly 2 million in Johannesburg proper.

We met up with our two guides, Eunice and Spongila. They took us to a few different neighborhoods, including Kliptown, where the Freedom Charter was signed. We talked with a guy who runs an organization called SKY, Soweto Kliptown Youth, and drove around a bit. We stopped at Regina Mundi Catholic Church, where many of the political gatherings were held in the mid-70s. There are still bullet holes on the ceiling! Then we stopped at a shebeen, a local tavern, and had a few beers with the folks that were drinking there. It was fun, relaxing and interesting to see where the conversations led. Over and over again we heard "We're so happy you're here in Soweto. You see, it's a safe place. A good place. Tell your friends in America to come here." After a few drinks, we went to Orlando East, the neighborhood where we were spending the night.

We rented a shack for 100 rand, roughly US$17. It was TINY. A twin bed, a dressing table (where we ate dinner and breakfast) and a chair. The walls were pasted with magazine pages. Our hostess, Amy, cooked us a yummy dinner. We ate it with our hands, by candlelight. Then, as I was recording nighttime sounds outside the shack, she and two of her sons came out. I started interviewing them, as well as her two other sons, and we had a great couple of hours of conversation outside before heading to bed.

The funny thing is that I felt safer in Soweto than I do in Melville. In Soweto you know people are watching what goes on outside their houses. They know their neighbors. Everyone is hidden behind walls in Melville. But I digress.

The next day, after a breakfast of leftovers, we went to Eunice and Spongila's shacks, just a little ways away from where we stayed. I interviewed them and Tony, one of the Taste of Africa drivers, about their thoughts on Soweto and tourism and life in South Africa. Then we drove out to the Hector Pieterson Museum, which commemorates the life of a young boy killed at the beginning of the Soweto Uprising after black South Africans refused to allow schools to be taught only in Afrikaans (a variation on Dutch spoken by the Boers/Afrikaaners whose ancestors settled here generations ago). We drove by the "standard" Soweto spots: Nelson Mandela's former house, Archbishop Desmond Tutu's house, Winnie Mandela's house. Then we stopped back in Kliptown at the house of a man named Porto, whose family housed Nelson Mandela when he had to hide from government officials. Porto had lots of stories to tell about growing up "coloured" (white mom, black dad) and being a top-notch boxer.

We headed on to downtown Joburg to meet up with Cedric de la France, who took us walking around downtown. You have to understand that white South Africans are generally terrified to walk around downtown. It has this dangerous, awful, deadly reputation. We really liked it though...at least during the day. People were out and about. We got a few looks, but it might have been because Cedric was walking barefoot. I mean, I held onto my purse, but it was kind of like coming to NYC for the first time. And it was fascinating to see the architecture and the taxi (minibus) system and the view of Joburg from the tallest building in the city. The weirdest thing about downtown Joburg is how little traffic there is. It's eerie. I interviewed Cedric about his philosophy on Soweto and the importance of bringing tourists to really get a sense of the place.

On Tuesday morning at 5 a.m. (!) we headed off to Kruger National Park, a 6-hour drive away. We traveled with Giulietta, an Aussie/Italian woman, and Steven, our Zimbabwean driver. Most of the time we were flying at 140 kph. On the windy roads it was pretty interesting. Only one close call. The landscape looked very midwestern -- corn, corn and more corn -- for a few hours, until we got midway through Mpumalanga Province. All of a sudden the roads got windy and we crossed over a pass and down into these valleys full of shacks and punctuated with these beautiful rectangular cliffs. It was stunning.

Kruger Park is in the low veld area. It's kind of a thorny version of California scrublands. We dropped our stuff off at the campground (yes, behind a fence...but inside the park) and went out for a drive as soon as we got there. Safaris are strange beasts. At first we oohed and aahed over every zebra and impala (antelope) and wildebeest that we saw. Then they became standard once we started looking for the "Big Five." That's buffalo, lion, elephant, rhino and leopard, in case you were wondering. We saw them all, by the way. We drove pretty much all day yesterday -- 11 of us (including Douglas the guide and David the driver) in this extended Land Rover with open sides. We'd turn these corners and come right up against these elephants munching away at the grass and giraffes sitting there 20 feet away. They're huge and beautiful to see in the wild.

But the highlight of my time was this morning, when four of us -- plus Rodney and Dingen, the guides -- left at 4:30 for a two-hour bushwalk. We got onto the main tarred road in the park and pretty much immediately came upon 3 hyenas, just hanging out there. Two of us took photos, but I just watched their goofy movements and listened to the sound of their paws padding along the asphalt. We went ahead a mile or so and came upon a giant leopard just sitting in the middle of the road. Oh man. It sat there in our lights for maybe five minutes, then slunk away into the dewy grass it had been trying to avoid. We turned off onto a dirt road, twisted and turned a bit, and suddenly came upon five rhinos! They ran off...and actually, rhinos can run quickly! Then we got out and started walking. Both Rodney and Dingen had rifles...just in case. I spent the first third of the hike scanning the horizon for lions. Didn't see any. In fact, we only saw an impala. But we got to see the thorny bushes and how high the grasses were and the fact that the dry riverbeds have water only a few feet down that elephants will dig for. It was awesome. Once we got back into the vehicle, we started back toward our campsite. All of a sudden, this black snake twisted and launched itself up at the side of the car. Um, it was a black mamba...one of the most poisonous in the world! Then once we got back on the tar road, we pulled up next to three wild dogs. They are ugly as hell but really fascinating and not seen too frequently in the park.

After breakfast we started the long drive home. We were the last two dropped off, so we got a bit of a tour of the Joburg suburbs and rush hour and all that. So here I am, smelly and exhausted but also exhilirated from a really interesting couple of days.

We fly out to Cape Town tomorrow. I'd like to try to upload some pictures when I can, but you'll have to be patient for now. The next week should be a little less dramatic but still pretty interesting. I'll keep you posted.

S.

2006-10-04T17:37:00.000-07:00

Hi all,

Thursday, 10:30 a.m.

Hope you're enjoying the pictures. I've been relaxing in Darwin for the last few days, hanging out with six-and-a-half-year-old K and her four-month-old twin brothers, A&J. Their parents, A&V, have been awesome hosts. It's been a pleasant visit. Got to eat my first vegetarian lahksa (soup) at the wharf at sunset. Had a tasty lunch with V at the Northern Territory Museum -- great Aboriginal art, for those of you who are interested. Scoured the stores for this year's family Christmas gifts. Hiked through a monsoonal rainforest yesterday that was full of pandanus and paperbark trees. Lots of baby-holding, which I enjoy -- I swear! We had our slideshow last night, complete with a mad slide projector that randomly popped slides out. I think it convinced A&V to transfer their slides to digital media.

I was struck by how different their Peace Corps/PNG experience was. They lived in a remote village and had to hike two days to get to the airstrip when they had to go re-supply their food and get mail every four months. They taught at the local primary school and ran the local health center and helped the Hagahai people market these beetle earrings. They also stayed an extra year in Peace Corps and then helped train my Rural Community Development group when we arrived in PNG in 1999.

Today we're planning to hike to a beautiful waterfall called Wangi. Just waiting for the plumbers to figure out why water is leaking through the floor of the upstairs bathroom. Then late tonight I'll catch a flight to Sydney, lay over a few hours, and start the 13-hour trip to L.A.

No real words of wisdom to share. It's been a "buffer time" for coming back to the U.S., as well as a good chance to reconnect with old friends. I'm grateful.

S.

2006-10-03T06:03:00.000-07:00

MADANG PHOTOS

Sunrise at Jais Aben

A new palm leaf, Jais Aben

Clear water, Jais Aben

Palm trees, Jais Aben

Looking at the ocean, Jais Aben

Hills near Jais Aben

Looking into the water from the jetty at BRG

Fish in the water at the BRG jetty

A cuscus, or tree kangaroo, at Jais Aben

Sindana, Benjamin and Yat at BRG

The girls on the jetty

Hula dancers

Dana

Dodo

Marianne

Stephanie

Braiding

Vanilla tree at Kamba Village

Pathfinder International "pre-test" at Kamba Village

Sepik mask

Carving at Madang Resort

Carving at Madang Resort

MORE GOROKA PHOTOS

Marita

Cooking bananas

My apo, Sivirito, all dressed up

The road to Ekeka

Goroka sky, post-rain

Preparing pulpul skirts for traditional costumes

Papa Pirua cutting bananas

Meme (goat) in Kabiufa

With my mama, Jenny

Three generations of Kabiufa meris

Delta with a huge taro

Afdo under the umbrella

Trying to make a fit PNG meri out of me on my last night...

2006-10-01T21:31:00.000-07:00

GOROKA SHOW 2006

2006-10-01T20:11:00.000-07:00

GOROKA PHOTOS

Afternoon in Ifiufa

Suka Pas, Ifiufa

When you chew buai (betelnut), your mouth looks like this

Recording the singaut at the mumu in Ifiufa

Skeeta and Danny's son James (a.k.a. "Potato")

Put this in your pipe and smoke it!

Ifiufa meri and her pig

The bilum market in Goroka

The "Mamaland" PMV at Goroka Market

Uncovering the kaukau (sweet potatoes) cooked mumu-style

My namesake, daughter of Kingsley and Betty

Rossy's bilas for the school Independence Day celebration

Inside the haus kunai with Clo, Ruthie and Lily

Preparing kaikai (food) for the extended family

Building a new haus kunai in Ifiufa

Walking through the gardens in Ifiufa

Hiking to the mumu in Ifiufa

Bilum-making at the Kabiufa Market

Picking coffee in Ifiufa

Delta's village

Afdo washes his hair...

My family with their L.A. t-shirts

2006-10-01T19:50:00.000-07:00

Hi all,

Greetings from Darwin, Australia. There's a pretty intense tropical heat here. Not as hot and humid as Madang, but close. It was 32 degrees Celsius when I got off the plane yesterday. I'm staying with the P/deK family in their lovely Queensland-style home in a suburb north of the city. It's great. They have a pool, which is also great.

Had a pretty uneventful last day in PNG, post-dive. Rested, ate bread, hung out with my friends' daughter Dana and her friends. They braided my hair for a long time. I tried to take pictures but couldn't get everyone in the shot. I'll post some pics once I get them into my computer. Then we had that barbeque at night. Tons of good food and interesting conversation down by the water.

Got up at 5:20 (hurray, internal alarm clock!) on Sunday morning and we went to the Madang Airport. It was a madhouse. Apparently a flight didn't come in the day before, so there were many, many people trying to get on my flight. I got in line but didn't move for 1/2 hour. My friend Yat managed to get me a boarding pass, but we waited another 1/2 hour to try and get my bag checked in. I took maybe two steps. Finally one of my friend's friends took my bag and checked it in. Then I was on the plane...but we had to wait until everyone else was on. They finally gave up on issuing boarding passes and just herded people onto the plane until it was full. There was even someone sitting in the "jump seat" in the cabin with the pilots! Wish it had been me...

I flew into Moresby. My friend Violet wasn't there, so I hauled my stuff over to International Departures and checked in my bag. Found Violet on my way back to Domestic. I had a Kar Kar bilum as a gift for her and knew it wouldn't make it through Customs in Australia -- they're quite strict about wood products and this is made from tree bark. Anyway, it all worked out. I flew to Cairns, Australia, where I had a layover of 2 hours or so. Once again, they told me to go through Immigration and get my passport stamped. When the bag didn't come, I had to go back to the other "Transit Passenger" side and get a "STAMPED IN ERROR" on the previous entry stamp. This has happened twice in Australia now...

Bought a few normal-sized t-shirts (you'll see what I mean when I upload pics of how I dressed in PNG). Snarfed down a Toblerone chocolate bar and caught the flight to Darwin, which then went on to Singapore. I sat next to a huge group of Indian tourists, all of whom, like me, ordered vegetarian meals. Read my super-expensive Vanity Fair -- okay, yes, I wanted to see pictures of Suri. I can admit this. They also had no good books in the airport. I swear. I'm not into Dan Brown or pulpy novels and I already read Life of Pi. I also have the John Irving book at home and didn't want to pay for it.

V and her daughter K were here to meet me when I finally cleared customs. They had to spray/clean all of my shoes because I'd been in a rural area in the last 14 days. But my four worrysome items (two carvings, tapa cloth and cuscus hat) were fine. Phew!

It's strange to be in an Australian suburb. It's quiet. I went for my first run in a month this morning with A, K (on her training wheel-free bike) and the two dogs. Good god, I'm in bad shape. It was also hot, I have to say, but it was humbling nonetheless. Nobody's staring at me anymore. Nobody's asking me if I'm a man or a woman (which, I swear, one kid at Jais Aben did ask me!). I've got on a tank top and real shorts. I miss PNG, though. The smell, the feel of it. I wish I hadn't had to go so quickly.

Called Mom, Dad (left message) and man bilong mi to let them know I am accessible again. It was good to hear their voices. But I'm still sad that this is coming to an end. Oh well. I'm on a quest for some nice Aboriginal art to bring back with me for Christmas gifts this year. I'll see what I can find when I hit the town.

I may go talk with some Aboriginal friends/acquaintances of A&V. Not sure yet if that'll happen. Sounds like we'll go hiking on Thursday. I leave very early Friday for Sydney and then direct to L.A.

S.

2006-09-29T20:52:00.000-07:00

Apinun olgeta,

1:50 p.m. on Saturday. It's my last full day in PNG. I celebrated this beautiful place this morning by diving for the first time at Jais Aben. After a chilly introductory session in the resort's pool, I headed out into the solwara (salt water) with my instructor. Man, is it beautiful. Corals of all colors. Lots of neon yellow. Parrotfish, angelfish, lots of electric blue fish, clams, even a sea fluke. (That's a relative of the sea horse, I've been told.) No sharks or sea snakes this time, though I've been told they're around. We dove down to 40 feet. I love how the fish look at you when you'e swimming close to you. You can just tell they're trying to figure out what the heck you are. There were schools of fish off in the distance, and even an old Cessna airplane underwater. It's just awesome. Another world.

To my friends from Redondo, you must come here. I'm bringing you a CD of information about diving at Jais Aben.

The only down side of diving was the fact that my BCD kept inflating for some reason. That's the vest that you wear to help with your buoyancy. I was really fighting to stay down at certain points, despite an extra weight on the weight belt and repeated deflations of the BCD. Panicked once, then realized that did me no good and I had to just breathe easy.

Now it's early afternoon. I've stuffed myself with the homemade bread that's the best I've ever had. Might grab a banana or some papaya later on. I've been rationing out my lemon creme biscuits. There's a young American guy named Teddy here who's apparently on his way to Ok Tedi Mine. Research of some kind? Not sure. I haven't talked with him much, but I'll find out more tonight when we have dinner.

It rained hard last night and much of this morning, and it's still a little overcast. The rain cooled everything down to a more manageable humidity level. I'm just trying to soak in the sounds and sights. Madang is really a place you have to see to believe. I don't think my pictures will do justice. I wish I could stay here another month.

But real life intrudes into PNG. I have lots of CDs and photos to copy and send out. Lots of work to do on my stories too. And I have to pay the bills. I've lost a month's income -- and almost all my savings -- doing this reporting trip, but it's worth it 100 times over. I'll find a way to make it work financially.

Once I get to Darwin, I may try to do some recording with some of the Aboriginal people that the P/deKs have worked with during their doctoral fieldwork. I think I can incorporate their stories into my "definitions of poverty" piece, since their lack of land is such a stark contrast to the situation of Papua New Guineans.

We're having a slide show on Wednesday night to show their pictures from Peace Corps/PNG and mine from this trip. Should be fun...

I also look forward to finding a wireless connection and showing you some of what I've seen. The sounds will have to come later.

So here's my last lukim yupela from PNG. Thanks for sharing the journey. From the next post on, it'll be g'day. Stay tuned.

S.

2006-09-28T04:46:00.000-07:00

Gud nait olgeta,

9:45 p.m. on Thursday here. I had a quiet day yesterday and a busy one today. Lots of malolo (rest) yesterday, including a heavenly three-hour nap under the fan. (Do I really have to go back to work at that news organization in two weeks?) I spent today in Madang town with the two Pathfinder International ladies, Jil (Papua New Guinean) and Jennifer (American). It's been a bit of a struggle to arrange my visits/interviews with the limited truck schedule to/from town, but today was great. I was able to be there all day. They're trying to hammer out all the details surrounding starting up an NGO, and there's lots of them. Buying a secondhand car that's still in good shape. Finding office space. Finding decent housing for Jil. Getting estimates from the nearest city, Lae, for possible cars -- they have to fly there and back in one day. Renting a Toyota Hilux so they can go out in the field. Finding a driver. Figuring out who from the Departments of Health and Community Service will be coming with on this "field trip."

I recorded while they discussed some of the challenges of setting up this program: government inaction, trying to set up reproductive health services in a predominantly Catholic area, health care workers from "outside" coming into a different region, adolescent access to reproductive health services, men acting as family decision-makers and controlling women's fertility and the biggie, sexual and gender-based violence. Wife-beating is a big problem here. Big.

Tomorrow we're scheduled to go out in the field to a nearby village. Jil and Jennifer will gather "pre-test" questionnaires from a few villagers who are willing to talk about what, if any, health and family planning options are available to them. It will be another full day.

I think I will schedule a half-day introductory dive session for Saturday with the dive shop at Jais Aben Resort. (Thank god for credit cards, since I'm nearly out of money.) Then we have a barbeque Saturday night, then I leave Sunday.

After I rode in the back of BRG's pickup truck back to Jais Aben this afternoon, I grabbed my bilum (string bag) to sit down on the jetty and write in my journal about the day's events. Also had my recorder. I started recording the sound of the water hitting the shore at high tide, and then my friend's adopted daughter and her four friends came down to the jetty to see what I was doing. After some prodding, they started talking about what they saw in front of them. One person would hold the mike and another would listen through my headphones. I monitored the recording levels. They loved it. Pushed and shoved a little bit over who would get what next. 40 minutes of heaven -- they laughed and ducked under all the wires and hung from the trees while I took pictures. We finished up our "recording session" as it got dark. One of the girls, Marianne, braided two little braids out of the wispies the wind had pulled out of my ponytail. (Wispies, a.k.a. heat-induced 'fro fuzz.) It was a nice end to the day.

Had dinner with my compadres Benjamin, Sindana and Yat. (Side note -- last night we had a wonderful 40-minute discussion about whether PNG is a poor country or a rich country. They all said rich, because of the fact that Papua New Guineans own 97% of the land in the country. It's one of only five countries in the world, all of them Melanesian, where land is owned by the people of the country. PNG. Solomon Islands. Vanuatu. New Caledonia. Fiji.) Manrico the Australian left for Port Moresby this afternoon, so it was just the four of us. Benjamin and I stayed at the table for a long while talking about race relations in the U.S. and what life is like for black Americans. I tried to explain some of the things I've noticed or heard about, including the sensitivity of using the n-word, but felt completely inadequate at explaining an experience I've never had. I also resorted to English for the first time to explain some of my thoughts... Not sure why Tok Pisin wouldn't do. I guess I wanted to make sure I got my words as right as I could.

Why is race so sticky? It's really not much of an issue here. I mean, I'm stared at constantly, but that's a given because I'm one of a few white people in a black-skinned country. I've said that before. I chafe at being called misus, but my aunt Delta told me after I explained the slavery connotations that it's a frequently-used term referring to everyone, not just whites. Masta, the equivalent male term, is a little more uncomfortable. So is pikinini, the word for children here. What matters here is clan affiliation. It's not a coastal vs. Highlands distinction either. It's a specific hauslain (extended family) and then the clan within that hauslain. The guy I rode with on the plane to Goroka had told me how upsetting it was to him to have an Aboriginal man in Cairns, Australia call him wantok. He said to the man "You're not my wantok. We may have the same skin color, but you're not my family." I think if he were from the U.S., he'd probably have the opposite reaction. Just my opinion... But then again, during that conversation about the Australian government's treatment of Aboriginals the other night, Benjamin, Sindana and Yat were all very, very sad to hear how the Aboriginals had "lost" their land. They clearly identified with them.

I was very excited to find a book in the BRG collection called Yali's Question by Deborah Gewertz and Frederick Errington. Ms. Gewertz was my anthropology professor for a class I took at Amherst College, and the second person to mention PNG to me. (First was Ms. Faber, my second grade teacher, who was a missionary here way back when.) She's done her research in the Sepik River region, known for its intricate carvings. The book is about the Ramu Sugar Corporation and how it's changed life in PNG. I plan to buy it when I get back home, but I'm trying to read what I can in my spare time. Haven't gotten through the forward yet... I remember Deborah Gewertz being very upset when I wrote her an email to say I was going to PNG through the Peace Corps back when we got our posting notification in late 1998. She didn't think volunteers were doing much to help the people of PNG. I wonder if she still feels the same way.

Time for me to sign off. I still have to do my 6+ pages of journaling before I sleep, and I'm pooped.

S.

2006-09-27T00:23:00.000-07:00

Quick note: still sweating in Madang. A quiet day today. Met Jil in town, along with her American counterpart, who's here to help set up the Pathfinder International office. We chatted and I'll be spending the day with them tomorrow. It was heaven to eat some American candy, though I've been satisfying my sweet tooth with lemon creme biscuits (cookies) for the last bit of time. Papaya and bread for breakfast. Papaya and homemade bread for lunch. Dinner is waiting on the table under a mysterious shroud. I took a three-hour nap today. I'm liking this malolo (rest). I also think I will abuse my credit card and sign up for an introductory dive on Saturday. I know my friends in Redondo Beach would kill me if I didn't take advantage of this amazing diving opportunity.

I've been trying and trying to upload pictures, but the internet connection is just too slow. Hopefully I can do that once I'm in Darwin. (I leave PNG/arrive in Darwin on Sunday.) I'll search for wireless once I'm there.

Anyway, take care. Talk soon.

S.

2006-09-25T22:40:00.000-07:00

Hi everyone,

Tuesday, 3:30 p.m. I am sitting in a puddle of my own sweat in Madang. I thought Moresby was hot. This is another thing altogether. Huuuuumid. But it's the prettiest place I've ever been. Beach-wise, of course.

The end of my stay in Goroka was pretty quiet. We shuttled between town and ples both days. I rested, hung out with family, took pictures, recorded a little. The last night we had a goodbye dinner for me. It was a little hectic, since Moses (my "uncle") is standing for election and every night people have come to hear his thoughts and collect money to give him their votes. Yes, this is PNG politics. The election isn't until 2007, and it will only get more frequent (and more stressful for the women in the family, who have to provide food and tea for the visitors). Apparently this goes on until morning...and people frequently die over elections. Strange.

Anyway, we had a quiet dinner of taro, potato, kumu (greens) and rice. Then everyone gave me goodbye gifts. Bilum after bilum after bilum. Note to Mom and man bilong mi, there's one for each of you in my bag. I have about 6 of my own, plus two highlands hats.

I flew out of Goroka on Monday morning, after the plane finally arrived. It was a DC-8, one of those tiny little ones with about 40 seats. I couldn't fit my recording equipment in the overhead "locker," so I stuffed everything around me. Spent much of the hour-long flight making faces at the four-month-old girl sitting next to me on her mother's lap. I think she was half fascinated and half terrified.

Got to Moresby and my new friend Violet was there to pick me up. She took me to her office and then we went to the government building where the Secretary of Environment and Conservation was waiting for me. We had a half-hour interview, and then I started to investigate getting permission to bring the tapa cloth, two wood carvings and highlands hat with cuscus fur out of the country and into Australia (en route to the U.S.). Australia is apparently quite strict about wood and fur products... We finally had to go so I could catch my plane to Madang. At the airport, the computers were down, the lines were long and I'm really lucky Violet's friend checked my bag in for me and prepped my ticket.

Ended up waiting for the flight with a PNG woman who was heading back to Madang from D.C. She was pissed because an Australian guy had just told her the country was full of "jungle men and women." When she called him on it and said he was being rude, he said he was sorry but it was true. She was full of "we should do this"s and "we should do that"s, tons of ideas about how to improve PNG. I wondered if that was because she works for an American NGO (Nature Conservancy) or because she just came back from the U.S.

On the flight I sat next to the Central Province Juniors Netball coach. I am still not sure what netball is. I think it's kind of like basketball, but not exactly the same thing. We landed in Madang and WHAM, the heat hit.

My American friend, his PNG girlfriend and their daughter were there to meet me. We're staying in Jais Aben, a resort area that is maybe 15k north of Madang town. It's a stunning, beautiful, quiet peninsula surrounded by islands and birds I've never heard before. I had dinner with some of the nationals who work with my friend's organization and an Australian guy named Manrico who's here to talk about union organization. We had the most depressing conversation I've ever participated in, focusing mainly on the importance of land in PNG life and the way the Australian government has treated the Aboriginals. It's ugly what that government has done.

The guys want to talk to me about definitions of poverty tonight, and I'm excited. They all believe that PNG being a nation of landowners means its people are not poor. They have what they need and they resent having the definition of "poor" placed upon them by developed nations. Very interesting.

I went into town this morning to meet Jil, the PNG woman who is starting up Pathfinder International in PNG. We had a nice chat (on tape) and I'm heading in again tomorrow. Hopefully, once her American counterpart arrives tomorrow, we can go out to the Rai Coast District of Madang Province, where the project will take place, and I can see what they're doing to set up family planning services in the region.

Walked to Best Buy (ALONE! SAFE!) to buy some biscuits and Orchy (a mango-orange drink) and then to ANZ Bank to cash the first of my travelers checks. Yes, I'm running out of money. My friend's girlfriend took my tapa cloth, wood carvings and cuscus hat to customs to be sprayed. I have to present this certificate of quarantine to the Australian customs officials when I arrive on October 1st. Cost me K40, but I think it's worth it to cover my butt. Back at Jais Aben now. I keep retreating to the fan when life gets too hot. I don't have money to go diving/snorkeling, but this is definitely the place to do it.

Back to town when the truck makes its town run tomorrow for more talking with Jil. I want to get more into the family planning concerns here in PNG. She's trained as a nurse and has worked as a health educator for 20 years or so, so she has lots to say about it.

I'm happy, healthy (post-Cipro) and loving having my own room and bathroom in a peaceful, beautiful place. I'll try to write more in the next few days. Hope you're all well too!

S.

2006-09-22T18:24:00.000-07:00

Moning olgeta,

10:40 a.m. on Saturday. I managed to avoid Seventh Day Adventist church today by claiming I had lots of work to do on the internet. (See, Mom, it's not just in the U.S.!) It's been a little less busy over the last two days. On Thursday I met Josephine, a wonderful woman from Masi, a hauslain close to where I used to live on the road to Gahavisuka Provincial Park. She works at Telicom, the telephone company, and is such a joy to speak with. We stayed up late (11 p.m.) and storied and storied and storied. It was so nice to feel that immediate rapport with someone. To her I wasn't Sivirito (my ples name) -- I was Skye.

I've been chafing a little bit over the last two days, what with the constant family time and feeling a bit like a child. (Yes, I CAN walk alone to the Internet cafe. Yes, I DO know where the bathroom is in the office building after two weeks.) Usually I'm able to go to "my" room and close the door and rest for a while, but not always. I've tried to explain pasin bilong Amerika -- that sometimes I like to be wanstap, on my own, for a while. I know the constant attention is a form of affection, and I am trying to keep that in mind in the moments when I just want to walk away for a few minutes.

I don't mean to sound ungrateful, either. It's just that 16 days straight of family time is intense. I have to admit I am looking forward to flying to Madang, on the northern coast, on Monday morning. I'll be staying with an American and his PNG girlfriend, who run an NGO there.

Side note -- two old men are singing in their tok ples and pounding on drums outside the Internet cafe. Wish I had my recorder right now.

Yesterday we had a busy morning. We went to the Ifiufa Women's Resource Center and I interviewed the head of the women's center in English. We sat in a little makeshift church near her house, actually, on rough wooden pews. She said her women's group is working to do two things: improve literacy (maybe 40 women out of 1,000 in the village can read) and set up some kind of marketing program so women can sell their food without having to spend all day at Goroka Market just to make K20 (about $6.50).

People are starting to change their diet a little more and aren't eating as much garden kaikai (food). Now they're buying more tin fish, more Ox & Palm (a corned beef hash kind of thing, I think), eating bread for breakfast, etc. The cost of food has really gone on top in the last few years. Families here have to pay school fees if they want their children to attend school. It gets expensive quickly. And if they're fairly well off, as my aunt Delta and uncle Moses are, they have to provide for their family members and are CONSTANTLY doling out cash to them. It's expected of them.

Back to my interview with Cathy. She said she's been fairly successful with the literacy part, setting up literacy programs for women and men in Ifiufa. But the market idea is dead in the water. She says the government isn't making any effort to improve the situation and that needs to happen. I keep hearing this again and again: the government isn't working. The management is buggered up. Nothing happens. People only provide for their wantoks (family). Many women have said to me that they, women, have so many good ideas and they need to be in power to get things going.

Josephine also told me before that educated women are starting to say "Why do we need men at all? They just sit around. Why not live our own lives and just be single mothers? It wouldn't be that different." It's interesting to see some women so empowered while others do whatever their husbands tell them. The difference in work burdens between men and women is really, really obvious. Women cook, clean house, weed the gardens (and the gardens are ENORMOUS by American standards), take care of the kids, cook, clean the dishes, etc. Men dig ditches in the gardens, carry heavy things, build roundhouses. If they work in an office, they provide. But generally they sit around, talk with other men and play darts. Maybe they drink beer if they have money. Seriously, they get their pay and it goes to whatever they want before it goes to the family.

Enough on gender roles. The interview with Cathy was good. Her program is, as she says, an "eye-opener" in PNG and a lot of women are trying to set up similar programs around the country. It's exciting, even if it's moving slowly. She really sees her role as helping the women of her village to improve their lives.

We went to town after that to reconfirm my flight (which is Monday morning). Reconfirming one's flight in PNG is the BIGGEST WASTE OF TIME. It drives me crazy. We sat there for an hour while the Air Niugini employees sat around, didn't do much, etc. You have to reconfirm your flight or you'll lose it, even though you've already bought your ticket. I have to do this again once I'm in Madang, on the northern coast. I started to get very pissed off waiting and was trying so hard to check the ugly American inside me.

After that we went to Aka and Rossy's school, where they were having a "cross country" event at school. Races, high jump, etc. I started to REALLY chafe at family time. Let's just say low blood sugar, five forkfuls of spaghetti for breakfast and running out of "clean" water weren't a good combination. We sat around and picnicked for a while. Went back to the office eventually. My friend Anna, with whom I worked at J.K. McCarthy Museum last time I was here, came in to get a loan from MV Microfinance and we chatted for a while. It was great to see her! When Delta came back, we went to the Museum and I was able to sit and stori with my friend and former boss, Vince Pou, for a half-hour. He's doing some amazing things, expanding the museum's activities to include staff exchanges, offering cultural tours in various villages, and starting classes in museum studies at the University of Goroka. I'm really excited to see that the museum has come so far in the 7 years since I worked there.

I was really sad to hear that my friend Ivan Mbagintao died last year. I'd hoped to record an interview with him, since he has a really interesting story. A scientist from the U.S. named Carleton Gajdusek (sp?) came to the Fore region of Eastern Highlands in the 1950s to study kuru, a disease much like mad cow. It was tradition in the region for women and children to eat sections of men's brains when they died. This caused them to get really sick. Gajdusek studied this disease and eventually won a Nobel Prize for his work. He came to the region and hired some local boys to be his porters. Ivan was one of them. When Gajdusek left the region, he brought Ivan back to the States with him. Ivan schooled in Washington D.C. and lived there for a while before returning to PNG. His kids, too, schooled in D.C. He had an article from Time or Newsweek about him that I copied -- it's pretty awesome. So I was sorry to hear I couldn't stori with him about his experience. He died about a year ago, just a few months after he was retrenched.

Last night, my apo (namesake), Sivirito, storied in her language about growing up and the time when the whites came to PNG. She'd talk, and then somebody would stori in Tok Pisin. It was great to hear some of her stories. Seems like another lifetime ago... She got all excited and went and dug out her money from before, a spear that was used to kill men and a shell called a kina (same as the currency here) that used to be used as money before the whites came. I took a photo.

There are friends staying with Delta and Moses from Lae, the big coastal city at one end of the Highlands Highway. They came to see their adopted daughter, who's in the Goroka Hospital with depression right now. We have no water pump, and haven't for a few days. This means pouring water into the toilet before flushing. washing in a hose "shower" behind torn tarp walls while trying to move my feet so the grate I'm standing on doesn't cut them. It's invigorating... At least I'm trying to tell myself that! I'm constantly using this antibacterial stuff on my hands because I'm not able to wash them very often and I shake about 100 hands a day.

That's about it from here. I'm almost out of internet time. I hope you're all well. I go to Madang on Monday morning and will write more from there. Hopefully I can post pictures too! They're on my computer -- I just need to hook that up to an internet connection.

Lukim yupela.

S.

2006-09-20T19:23:00.000-07:00

Moning olgeta,

12:20 p.m. on Thursday. I guess I should say "apinun" to everone.

I'm back among the living again! The voice has returned. I can't tell you how ironic it is that in a society that values conversation so much, I was mute for four days. Ah well. Makes me appreciate being healthy. Now I'm dealing with slight health problems of a different kind, of which I'll spare you the dirty details. The traveler's greatest joy. Still functional though.

Monday and Tuesday I was out of commission. Yesterday, Wednesday, we had a busy day. I began it by slipping on the house stairs and falling all the way down. (Note to man bilong mi -- it was kind of like that time I was sick in Brooklyn and fell down my cousin's stairs...) Got a big "ooooh" out of the men who were standing by my grandmother and grandfather's roundhouse. We went back to my aunt Delta's hauslain and interviewed her brother, George. He had worked with poverty alleviation programs (UN and PNG government) and had some interesting things to say -- in English -- about comparing PNG's poverty to that of other countries he's been to. Some unnamed individuals in the area showed me a bag full of an illicit substance they've harvested and intend to sell in the islands, where it's big money. Risky, but big money. Let's just say it was strong stuff. I had a cold and I could smell it. One guy is trying to start up a tourist center in the area and wanted to talk about what he hopes to do. This is an interesting village -- the power line goes right up to the haus kunai, or grass huts. But nobody can afford to pay the K1,000 (roughly $330) it would take to buy a meter box and pay for the connection fees. Not to mention the cost of power... So it's a striking image: haus kunai (grass huts), clothes on the bushes drying, a "bed" for drying coffee beans before they're sold, all the usual tropical flowers, kids running around with kus (snot) coming out of their noses, and a big power line behind it all. Kind of symbolizes PNG as it is right now.

Anyway, after that we went to the P/deK's homestay mother's village, where she showed us some bilums she made for the New South Wales Blues (rugby team). She gave me one and gave me one to take to the P/deK's oldest child. I snapped a few pictures. She was a funny woman. She talked in tok ples, so I didn't understand much of what she said, but everyone around her was cracking up nonstop. People laugh often here, much more frequently than in the U.S.

After that we went and recorded the singsings of some young guys from Kabiufa village. I'll take them back to the States and make a CD to send (along with a CD of all the pictures, the "washed" pictures and a CD of the reports I do). They were pretty good. PNG songs sound a lot like reggae, but more bouncy, if that makes sense. I used my stereo mike, 10 feet away, since they rented speakers and a mike etc. for the occasion. They're convinced this could be their lucky break, once I send the CD.

Did I mention this before, that things are changing so rapidly here? It's striking how many women are wearing trousers now. Some women think they're better than skirts/laplaps because people can't look up them. There are ATMs and even the internet cafe (!!) I'm currently writing from. The secondhand clothing stores are alive and well. Seeing as I've given away half my t-shirts, I'm contemplating buying one or two.

Today we're planning to go see the woman who heads the Ifiufa Womens Resource Center, if she's traveled back from Lae. Apparently she went there a week or two ago to market some food and hasn't come back yet. I haven't seen the place unlocked yet, so I have a feeling it's not used too frequently. But it could be interesting to see...

I have most of my sound from Goroka. I think the next few days will be more restful. My aunt, Delta, has caught my cold and I have a feeling she'll want to take it easy. It's been cold and rainy lately. Yesterday there was some sun and I walked around Goroka Market with my cousin Sebastion, carrying my stereo mike. It was kind of a nightmare. All eyes are on me anyway, since I'm a white-skinned woman in a country of dark-skinned people. But put headphones on me and walk me around with equipment dangling from my shoulders and it's quite a sight. Everyone hushed up, aside from some wise guys who shouted into the mike and caused temporary deafness. I hope it's good sound -- haven't gone back and listened yet.

Glad to hear via email that Thacher School is safe (at least so far) from that big fire in Ventura County. I heard via man bilong mi that there was a coup in Thailand. Better check the NY Times website before my hour of internet time is up...

Quickly, though, it's amazing how differently time passes here. The days are long and lingering, even when they're full of activities. Sun is up at 6 a.m.; it sets at 6 p.m. Because it's close to the equator, it doesn't change much. Few people wear watches. The things that matter to people are family, food and good conversation. There's something to be said about that. It makes me take another look at my priorities, which is always good. People may be poor by U.S. standards, disease may be a given, but this country is rich in natural resources, fertile ground, friendliness and the up-and-down of living in the moment.

What a gift to experience that for a month before I go back to the rush-rush of life in L.A. Even in the moments where I want desperately to be alone -- a given when you're staying with a family in the village -- I am able to step back and relish this, at least for a moment. It's so worth it and I am eternally grateful to the bigman who made this possible.

S.

2006-09-18T17:38:00.000-07:00

Moning olgeta,

It's 10:20 a.m. Tuesday morning. It's been raining much of the morning. Taim bilong rain. I've been pretty sick for the last three days or so. Laryngitis for the last three days. Typical cold, I think, but I'm monitoring to see if it's bronchitis. I knew this was bound to happen sooner or later.

The Goroka Show was last weekend. What an awesome display of feathers and face paint (red, yellow and white dominated), tanget plants covering backsides and boobs all over the place. There were dozens of groups dancing their traditional dances and singing their traditional songs. It was so amazing to be in the middle of it all. Even though I didn't feel well, I recorded a lots of the singsings as they came by. Also did some interviews and specific recording of a Lufa group playing giant bamboo pipes with thongs, a Chimbu group that did this amazing head-turning, another Chimbu group that played bamboo pipes, etc. There's enough there to make a nice audio postcard.

The only downside of the two-day event was the fact that the hundreds of people who didn't get inside weren't too happy and started throwing stones over the fence. Most people knew enough to run and go inside, but a few unlucky ones got hit. And when I say hit, I mean hit hard. My cousin Jerry said he could see the brain of one man who got hit. Apparently a white tourist got hit too. But this was just an afternoon thing. For the most part it was a joyous display of color and pride in tradition.

Yesterday was quiet. I stayed home and, honestly, slept or read most of the day. We took the two women who run Delta's Pro-Ma Products group in PNG to the afternoon flight out to Port Moresby. They'd been staying the weekend. Of course the water pump buggered up the day before they arrived. The family was able to jimmy together something to make it work, and now it seems okay. But it's been an interesting weekend. I think I'm going soft, more than I'd like to admit. I really, really like having running water and a toilet.

Anyway, I guess that's about it. I have to hurry because internet is expensive and I'm hogging the phone line. All's well here. Hope you're doing well.

S.

2006-09-14T19:57:00.000-07:00

Apinun,

It's almost 1 p.m. on Friday here. It's been a busy couple of days. Yesterday I went with Delta and Moses, my aunt and uncle, to Delta's village. We parked their car and walked down a steep hill -- past incredibly lush gardens full of bananas, kaukau (sweet potato), corn, peanuts, Chinese cabbage and even an illegal substance I won't name -- to where everyone was gathered to celebrate a new coffee machine that will help harvest all the coffee they pick off their trees. There were pounds and pounds of lamb flaps and chickens, all kinds of kumu (greens), and a mountain of cooking bananas that the men were tying together in small bunches. Some men were tending the fire, heating up stones that they put inside of banana leaves with the greens. Once they wrap up the package, they bury it underground and let it cook for an hour or two. This is the mumu in all its glory. I recorded and snapped pictures. Then we hiked back up the mountain. Let's just say it was the most exercise I've had since I left L.A.

Last night I talked with Moses and Delta in English (all my interviews so far have been in Tok Pisin) about some of the general customs of PNG. Gender roles, the importance of family, poverty, etc. It was an amazing 45-minute conversation and will, I think, be the backbone of a lot of what I do when I put my pieces together.

Today I recorded while Delta's parents dressed her daughter Rossy up in bilas. That's a traditional costume. Rossy and Aka's school had an Independence Day celebration, so Rossy put on pulpul (kind of a grass skirt), all kinds of woven and beaded belts, shell necklaces, a necklace of balls of kapul fur, a Highlands hat, and a few feathers in her cap. She looked awesome. As soon as I can, I'll post pictures. That may not be until after the 25th of September. Anyway, we attended the celebration. I tried to record but am not sure if it came out well or not.

All right, time for me to get off the phone line and get back to writing postcards.

Hope you're all well!

S.

2006-09-12T16:57:00.000-07:00

Hi everyone,

I’m writing this on Word and then pasting to the internet, so please forgive any overlap in Q&A…

It’s 9:30 a.m. on September 13th (Wednesday, I think). We had an interesting day yesterday. We went along the hauslain (houseline – where the extended family lives) and recorded some stories from women and men who live there. They talked about what they grow in their gardens, how many children they have, wives they’ve lost, etc. One man even sang two songs – he’s written one for each of the six women who have left him. My aunt, Fis Meri, talked about the bilas (costumes people wear for special occasions like Goroka Show) and billums (the bags that women make all over PNG). My namesake, Sivirito and two other old men and women sang one singsing too.

The low point of the day was the accident that happened when we finished going around and came back to the house. There are three dogs that look out for the property, and one of them ran in front of the car and got hit. He went and laid down, breathing heavily. It was obvious he was dying. Everyone crowded around him. I just pet him and “shhshhd”. They fed him a little water, but he eventually stopped breathing. I cried. Then Aka and Jerry, my two cousins, buried him in the garden. I recorded and took some pictures.

At night I cooked some spaghetti and sauce for the extended family. I don’t think they like it every much. Then I gave the t-shirts, trousers, and necklaces I’d brought to all my family members. I think they liked those a little better. They’re all going to wear them on Sunday when they go around at the Goroka Show.

When I woke up, the mother of the P/deKs was at our house. She had heard we visited Meteufa and wanted to talk a little bit into my microphone. I took a picture. Then the homestay father of the C/S family in Minnesota happened to come to the house. I took a picture of him, passed on the baby news and gave him their address.

Today we went and dropped off some of the extended family members at the bik wara (big water), where they’ll wash the bedding. We’re going to Delta’s hauslain, Ifiufa, this afternoon to gather more stories.

That’s about it from here. I haven’t seen a newspaper in days. I have no idea what happened on the September 11th anniversary. I have no idea what’s going on anywhere but in my hauslain, and that’s kind of nice, for a change.

I hope you’re all happy and healthy. I look forward to seeing you in a few weeks. I’ll write soon with more news…

S.

2006-09-10T22:01:00.000-07:00

Hello everyone! I’m writing from Goroka, from the office my family has in town. Their business is called MV Microfinance. Things are different for sure. Last time I lived in a grass hut. This time I’m staying on a bunkbed in a “haus kapa” (tin-roofed house). There’s electricity. There’s solar heated water, even though the water pump is a little testy.

It’s been a busy couple of days. I got to Goroka on Saturday morning. Sat next to a nice government guy from the Ministry of Petroleum an we talked about the U.S. He’d been to Austin and Denver 12 years before. I got to Goroka, got a ride from a nice Australian guy to the Lutheran Guest House and dropped my bags there. Then I walked to the store, bought some bottled water and caught a PMV (van) to my village, Kabiufa. I spent the whole day there. I got a wicked sunburn on my neck that’s still throbbing. I’ve learned my lesson about being high up in the mountains and not putting on sunscreen.

My “apo” (namesake) cried and cried at my feet when I came back. We sat down and looked at my pictures. We storied. We walked around the garden. I caught up with Papa Pirua, my grandfather, and Pis Mary, my aunt. We sat in their roundhouse and ate some watermelon. It was a day full of the same stories about where I’ve been and what I’ve done. Jenny, my mama, came out to see me. Then Moses and Delta, my aunt and uncle who own the big house, came back from camping. They drove me back to the guesthouse after I explained I’d already bought the room. The next morning they got me from the guesthouse and took me back to Kabiufa.

Village life is exhausting sometimes. Everyone wants to shake my hand. Everyone wants to story and EVERYONE stares. But, as always, this is the most welcoming place I know. Today we went out to a place called Meteufa to deliver some pictures of my friends, the P/deKs, and to record some stories. We took a few pictures and then storied some more and then headed out. We also went to a place called Asaro to see if the Mudmen would talk with me. They asked for 1200 kina payment ($400) and I said it wasn’t American custom to pay money for an interview, but I could give them a CD. They said some other journalists paid, and so we said thanks for telling us how it goes. One man from Asaro felt sorry for us, so he said to come back later and talk with him. Then we went to the J.K. McCarthy Museum, where I worked back in 1999. My former boss Vince gave me an update. It looks good. They’re doing all kinds of outreach projects now. The governor of EHP was in the museum, this bald Australian man named Mal “Kela” Smith. He complimented me on my Tok Pisin.

The Goroka Show starts on Friday, and it’s already a big thing. Tourists and people from other villages are arriving and the town is more full than usual. It’s the 31st anniversary of the country’s independence, in addition to being the biggest event in Goroka.

It’s good, but exhausting, to be back. I’m going to sleep at 8 and 9 p.m. and waking up at 6. I’m eating well, my family is looking out for me, and we’re going pretty much everywhere in a private car. No stomach problems yet, knock on wood. So don’t worry. All is well.

I hope you’re all doing well. Please send email updates. I’ll try to check it when I can. Talk to you soon!

S.

2006-09-07T20:22:00.000-07:00

Apinun olgeta! I'm here in Port Moresby, sweating my head off. The trip in was long but uneventful. 13 hours from Los Angeles to Brisbane, Australia. A little customs snafu r.e. bags and whether we had to pick them up and go around again through customs. (A very nervous big white guy I pegged as a missionary also had the same issue.) The seven-hour layover at Brisbane was actually the longest part of the trip. Then, of all the coincidences, I happened to sit next to the Deputy Minister of Conservation on the plane to Moresby! I'd been hoping to contact his boss about the Rainforest Coalition, one of my stories, but the boss was stuck in Brisbane. We had a nice, long talk about PNG, conservation, his family and the special siginificance of the word wantok (literally "one talk" -- the extended family)...

I was so happy to touch ground in Moresby. Those same dry hills, the black-and-red-and yellow PNG flag, that same blast of humidity when I walked out of the plane. I waited for my hotel van and watched a big family cry and cry and cry in happiness when their wantoks walked through the door. The family bond is everything here. Your wantoks mean more than your friends, more than anyone else. It's a strong tie.

It smells the same here. Firesmoke and car fumes. Buai (betelnut) and slightly funky mud. B.O. and dampness. It's a comforting smell, strangely enough.

The Comfort Inn has been an awesome place to stay. Clean room, fan over my bed, no roaches or rats that I can see. Everyone's been very nice. A few Australians, including a woman who broke her leg (both bones!) hiking the Kokoda Trail. A wonderful PNG man from an area called Finschaffen who wants to find himself a white wife and open up a guesthouse in his local village. (Note to man bilong mi, he wants to save up and come stay with us when he saves up enough money. I told him you'd be okay with that!) I've been speaking Tok Pisin pretty much nonstop, and I'm happy to say more than one person has said I'm fluent. Woohoo!

Yesterday, after two hours of trying to reach the man from the Ministry of Conservation using my Telkard calling card, I took a taxi to the National Museum. It is a truly amazing place. The art from the Sepik region -- canoes and masks and carved poles -- is particularly beautiful. I disappeared for two hours and then went on to PNG Arts, where they sell art to tourists. I got a little something for my soon-to-be-married friend Ms. K and a piece of tapa cloth for myself. (That's what I always wished I'd bought last time.) The driver kept the meter going while I shopped, and let's just say it was an expensive taxi ride! Hence my decision today not to go anywhere, though I'd love to see the Botanical Gardens again.

I had dinner last night with some nice guys, more of an English-Tok Pisin hybrid conversation. CNN International was playing in the background, so I'm well aware that TONY BLAIR IS STEPPING DOWN SOMEDAY! I heard Bush confirmed the presence of secret prisons too.

Breakfast this morning with my industrious friend from Finschaffen and a very cool Australian woman who's been working with the Australian Business Development organization. She's going to meet up with the man I'll stay with in Madang -- another small world coincidence.

Time moves slowly here in Moresby. I've been sleeping a lot because I can't be as active as I want to be. No running. I'm scared to put on my bathing suit and use the pool because it's showing so much skin. I don't want to offend. So I sped through Amanda Boyden's "Pretty Little Dirty" and now am well into Katharine Graham's autobiography. I go and talk to the people at the front desk, raunraun liklik (walk around), then come back and recover under the fan for a while.

Tomorrow I fly to Goroka at 9:05 a.m. I can't wait to see if my family got word I'm coming and waits for me at the airport or not. If not, I'll store my stuff at the guesthouse and take a PMV out to my village, Kabiufa. I tried to call the family, but their phone number is different from the one in the phone book. Yes, there's one PNG phonebook that covers the whole country. I love it.

Anyway, I'd best finish. My hour is almost up. I miss you all, even though I'm so happy to be back here. Write me and I'll check my email/blog as often as I can afford to. Stap isi na mi bai lukim yupela (stop easy and I'll see you).

S.

2006-09-04T12:06:00.000-07:00

Hi all,

I leave tonight. I'm all kinds of distracted today. My clothes, liquids and gifts for the family are in piles on my bed. Better find a bag soon! Still have to test the radio equipment too...

I think I made the proper change so that anyone can comment on the blog, not just registered users. Ms G. (and everyone else), let me know if it works.

I can't believe that in 24 hours I'll be looking the other way first on the street. Took the first malarone malaria pill today. Printed out some pictures of the P/deK family to take to their homestay family in Meteufa -- a little further out from Goroka than my village, Kabiufa. I can't wait to see their faces when they see the pictures. Hey, I should try to record messages for the P/deKs from their homestay family. How does that sound?

The flight to Brisbane is 13 hours, then a 6-hour layover, then 3 1/2 hours to Port Moresby. Ugh. I'm bringing "Pretty Little Dirty" and two New Yorkers to tide me over.

Anyway, happy trails to all of you. In Tok Pisin, we say lukim yu. Translation: see you later. Talk to you in a while...from the other side of the world.

2006-09-01T15:08:00.000-07:00

Here are a few pictures from my time in Goroka in 1999...

Ekeka, where I lived in Kabiufa

My family

My mama, Jenny (age 19)

My grandmother and apo (namesake), Sivirito

My grandfather, Papa Pirua, cuts sugarcane from the garden

One day a hornbill came to visit... My cousin Skita and I were impressed.

This is how you wash in a calf-deep stream

With my boss, Vince, outside the J.K. McCarthy Museum

Bilas (costume) at the Goroka Cultural Show

Asaro Mudmen at the Goroka Cultural Show

2006-08-31T19:35:00.000-07:00

I finished work today at the news organization. It's been a bit of a haul the last week for a number of reasons, but I made it through despite feeling totally humiliated. I started getting really excited about the trip today while showing my friend Ms. M some pictures of PNG that were on Flickr. One guy made some amazing photos at the Mt. Hagen Cultural Show. Check it out: http://www.flickr.com/photos/mytripsmypics. Then you can check out my photos too: www.flickr.com/photos/skyerohde. Not quite as arresting as Mr. Lafforgue's, but I like 'em.

I am fascinated by the Asaro Mudmen. Asaro is maybe 15k outside of Goroka. It's my former boss's wife's hauslain. I also had a friend named Puli, an older man from Asaro. He'd come visit the J.K. McCarthy Museum and we'd hang out and eat peanuts at lunchtime and talk about PNG and the U.S. One day Puli brought me a little mud head, a miniature version of what the Asaro Mudmen don when they perform at cultural festivals. It's now one of my prize possessions, one of the few tchotchkes I like. Puli let me try on one of the big mud heads once -- the thing must have weighed 25 pounds. How do men dance around gracefully while wearing hot, heavy clay masks like that?

Anyway, I'd like to tag along with the Asaro Mudmen for a story if I can. May as well ask... The worst they'll say is no.

My god, I feel like this opportunity to go to PNG is such a gift. Makes up for the challenges of trying to make a living freelancing. When I get my first bout of giardia, I probably won't be quite so happy to be in a third-world country. But I am so, so excited to be back in my second home and then take on the challenge of sharing this place, these people, this way of life in my chosen medium. PNG may not be a fountain of "hard news," which seems to be what public radio is headed toward, but I remain convinced that listeners will love a little slice of life from there.

I said in a recent job interview that I see my role as keeping the heart in radio. I believe that. I'm a storyteller. I follow the news, I know it well, but my passion is drawing the curtain back on people and places and things that listeners may not know about. I'm a good listener. I'm a good writer. I take time. I enjoy the conversation.

I think I fall in love just a little bit with every story I'm doing. Maybe that's because I've been lucky enough to assign my own stories, for the most part. Alpaca farming looked great after meeting Ellen in Croghan, NY. I thought home birth midwifery was my calling for much of grad school. I kept going back to Chantry Flats after finishing the story on the donkey packing station there because I feel such peace and acceptance there.

Enough for tonight. I'm exhausted. Four days and counting down...

2006-08-26T17:31:00.000-07:00

I have the passport and visa in hand. Life is good. I'm ready to go!

2006-08-25T15:16:00.000-07:00

Here are a few pictures of Goroka from the Internet to whet your appetite...

Goroka by air

Goroka Market

Goroka meris at the market

A typical raunhaus

Asaro Mudman

2006-08-25T07:38:00.000-07:00

Good news from the PNG Embassy, as of yesterday: my visa approval arrived from Port Moresby and my passport, visa, etc. are all on their way back to me. Cost me an extra $78.25 for the visa fee...but I'm just happy to hear I don't have to worry about this anymore.

Now I just need batteries. Costco, here I come...

On Monday I bought a dozen L.A./Venice Beach/California t-shirts to bring to my family members in PNG. Size large, so as not to leave the ladies with "inappropriately" short shirts. (They have to reach mid-thigh for modesty's sake.)

I read a WONDERFUL book over the last few days about a woman's Peace Corps service in Mali in the late 1970s. It's called Monique and the Mango Rains by Kris Holloway. It's about her two-year stint working with a midwife in a Malian village. I never get tired of reading books about others' experiences overseas. The other book I'm midway through right now is called Chameleon Days: An American Boyhood in Ethiopia by Tim Bascom. It reminds me of one of my favorites, Alexandra Fuller's Don't Let's Go to the Dogs Tonight. You know, the childhood experience in Africa... Fuller is still one of the best I've ever read at really *getting* the child's perspective. It doesn't feel forced in her book. But Bascom's book is interesting too, because he was there as protests against Haile Selassie increased.

I always thought I'd like to write a book about PNG. I wrote about 50 pages of stories when we first got back in 1999... Now I'm not even sure where they are. Some disk somewhere... I need to find those.

I reconnected with an old friend last night by phone. He's totally sober now after years of what wasn't so good for him. Props to you, Mr. J, for sticking with it. 'One day at a time' is the mantra for both of us!

2006-08-22T07:23:00.000-07:00

Still no paperwork for the journalist visa at the PNG Embassy, as of yesterday. 13 days until I leave. I'm a little worried about this.

2006-08-17T18:58:00.000-07:00

Good news, virtual readers... My passport, visa application and checks reached the PNG Embassy in D.C. You'd think this would be an easy thing to accomplish, but it wasn't. The address listed on the PNG visa application was not correct. I should have thought to double check online last Friday before sending it via Fed Ex, but I didn't. Long story...but after a plea to Fed Ex, it finally got there this evening. Now I'm waiting for the paperwork approving a journalist visa to make its way from PNG to the embassy in D.C. What a complicated process! It makes getting my electronic visa from Australia look like a breeze. Who'd have thought the PNG visa would be the most difficult part of the preparation for this trip? "Land of the unexpected," indeed.

I think I'm almost done buying stuff for the trip. Just need three extra cords for my microphones (backups) and lots of batteries. I'll be using a new recording system: what's called a solid-state flash recorder. It's a little bigger than my hand and records sound digitally onto a compact flash card (the kind you'd put into a digital camera). It's the latest and greatest in recording technology...at least for recording in the field. I've also purchased a stereo microphone (thank you, kind neighbor!!) to record a fuller, richer sound when I'm in places like the outdoor food market, the Goroka Show or Gahavisuka Provincial Park.

It's strange to think that I'll be out of the news loop for a whole month after being so in the middle of it, working at a major news organization. I look forward to tuning out for a little while...but I wonder what weird things will happen in the U.S. while I'm gone. I was in PNG when Columbine happened in 1999. I heard about it on VOA but didn't see any pictures for a month, until my Newsweek International arrived from the Peace Corps office. I did, however, read about Clinton and Lewinsky in one of the PNG papers. See, there's no way to escape the sensational stuff, even halfway around the world.

You know, one of the things I miss most about PNG is the smell of smoke in the evenings when families are cooking sweet potatoes and kumu (greens). I was showing my neighbor one of the tree bark bilums, woven bags made by PNG women, and I put it up to my face. After seven years away from PNG, it still had that smokey smell. I did that a lot when I first got back from PNG after my time in Peace Corps. I'd smell my bilums to take me back there...at least in my mind.

I'm in contact with a woman who worked for SIL, a missionary organization whose goal is to translate the Bible into every language in PNG. That's 800 or so languages! Anyway, this woman was an SIL missionary and taught childbirth classes. I was hoping she was still in PNG so I could meet her and possibly do a story...but she, her husband and their 7 kids returned to the U.S. in June.

Hearing that made me think about my own return to the States: the blur of the first few days, the unbearable loudness of Americans and the omnipresence of cellphones. I think my biggest culture shock was going into WalMart in Tennessee and seeing the cereal aisle. Box after box after box of cereal. So much to choose from after 9 months of Weetabix with powdered milk! (And I'll have you know I STILL haven't eaten Weetabix. Only took a month or two before I was craving sweet potato -- "kaukau" -- again.) Will a month in PNG be long enough to jolt me when I return to the U.S.? Or will my time in Darwin with my Peace Corps friends be enough of a buffer?

I know some of my family and friends are worried about my safety in PNG. Yes, there is petty crime. Yes, there is violent crime. Same as in the U.S. -- and anywhere else you travel! Rest assured: I'll be staying in safe guesthouses. I'll be dressing appropriately: loose, long pants and skirts and shirts that reach my thighs. I won't be going out at night. And I know that my family will watch out for me. So, in Tok Pisin, "no ken wari." No worries...

2006-08-08T10:38:00.000-07:00

Look for Port Moresby, Goroka and Madang... That's where I'll be!

2006-08-04T07:50:00.000-07:00

It's a full-time job preparing to go on this trip... Write the initial proposal. Find funding. Thank my lucky stars for the kindness of a man who realizes how great PNG is. Finalize story ideas. Prepare itinerary. Make endless phone calls to PNG (19 hours ahead) using a bad calling card to deal with the visa -- research or journalist? Collect meds from Kaiser: typhoid vaccine, cipro, malarone. Laptop. Check. New microphone and headphones. Check. Book tickets at Qantas. Check. Book lodging in Port Moresby, Goroka and Madang. Check. Freak out about whether the visa will come in time. Check. Fax a copy of the passport. Check. Email the resume and a list of recording equipment I'm bringing into the country. Check. Relax and realize I can't do anything more. Check.

I'm excited. And a little nervous. Still, I'm so grateful to have the chance to share this amazing, frustrating, beautiful, challenging country with more people. It's about as different from the States as you can get.

And I can't wait to see my homestay family after 7 years of sporadic letters back and forth.

2006-07-20T10:36:00.000-07:00

Mi bai go long PNG!

It's official -- I'm going to Papua New Guinea! I'm so happy. Let me translate that to Tok Pisin: mi hamamas tru. I have so much to do before I go... Let's hope they have something other than Larium/Mefloquine as the standard treatment for malaria these days.