Saturday, October 28, 2006
i listen to dance music...
What does the Bangladesh government have to do with a proper English tea? Let me tell you. My friend Kate, a charming Brit, has invited me over to have a proper English tea this afternoon…good tea, cakes, lemon, the whole nine yards. Unfortunately, today Bangladesh officially has no government. Being that it is election time, the governing party stepped down and handed power over to the Caretaker government. Well, at least that’s how its supposed to happen. Unfortunately, the chief caretaker does not want to have power and is faking sick at home so he doesn’t have to be sworn in. So, yes at the moment, Bangladesh has no government. So, what does the lack of government have to do with an afternoon of English tea? Well, there has been some ‘demonstrations’ outside of the home of the chief caretaker, who just happens to live not so far from our flat. So the possibility of my rickshawing across town to have tea was destroyed. Which is unfortunate, because I’m sure many of you know how I feel about cake. So instead, I ventured just far enough out of the house to go across the street to the office to work. Which is okay, because I do have a lot on my plate at work…but just the word plate reminds me of cake again and I am sad.
Thursday, October 26, 2006
its gonna take an airplane...
My dear friend Jane, whom many of you may know, writes absolutely hilariously delightful blogs about her adventures teaching in Japan (www.janeinjapan.blogspot.com). They always make me laugh and I can hear her speaking through them. Upon reading hers today, I was struck by the fact that blog entries are very much a representation of the person who writes them. If I can hear Jane so well through her blog, then it must be true for myself as well to some extent. And so I started reading through some of my latest blogs and began to become rather depressed. So I decided I would write something a little more uplifting and clever and absurd to make you smile.
Getting clean drinking water here is a little tricky, but there is bottled water everywhere so you can usually find it when you need it. One of the major brands “MUM” is at every corner store, every grocery store, every restaurant and in the hand of pretty much every foreigner you see. I couldn’t sleep last night for a little while so I was throwing my mini bottle of MUM up in the air and catching it when I decided to read the ingredients label. It is as follows:
Arsenic 0.01 mg/L
Cadmium 0.003 mg/L
Lead 0.01 mg/L
Chloride 250mg/L
Nitrate 4.5 mg/L
Nitrite Nil
Cyanide 0.01 mg/L
Fantastic! I love heavy metals and poison in my drinking water. Haha
And their slogan… “Lets Drink to Life!”
Getting clean drinking water here is a little tricky, but there is bottled water everywhere so you can usually find it when you need it. One of the major brands “MUM” is at every corner store, every grocery store, every restaurant and in the hand of pretty much every foreigner you see. I couldn’t sleep last night for a little while so I was throwing my mini bottle of MUM up in the air and catching it when I decided to read the ingredients label. It is as follows:
Arsenic 0.01 mg/L
Cadmium 0.003 mg/L
Lead 0.01 mg/L
Chloride 250mg/L
Nitrate 4.5 mg/L
Nitrite Nil
Cyanide 0.01 mg/L
Fantastic! I love heavy metals and poison in my drinking water. Haha
And their slogan… “Lets Drink to Life!”
Wednesday, October 25, 2006
so I cry and I pray and I beg...
There is something profound about loving your work. If I am known for nothing else in life, I hope that I known for loving what I did, because loving what you do transforms your entire world. And though the old mantra that “it is what you make it” does ring true, it only goes so far. If you were in the least exciting place in the world, but you loved what you were doing there, no one could convince you that you lived in the least exciting place in the world. And the opposite is true as well. If you were in a paradise but despised your work, the life you live there would be tainted. Some people might stop me now and argue that no one can be entirely happy in their work every day, and that is true. For as much as I love literature, there were days I felt I could throw Donne out the window in frustration, never look back and be content in my ignorance. But when you have something you love, each frustration just increases your love for it once you’re through to the other side.
I love capturing life through photos. There is something beautiful about that moment when I’m behind the lens and the shot comes together just as I imagined it would. There is also something completely fulfilling in writing, for me. Composing language to say exactly what I want it to in the particular way I want it said. And the two are not so dissimilar as it may first appear. The perfect composition of words both conjures and captures visual images and photography does the reverse for me…an image that speaks/screams/whispers its story to you through a language that your mind translates into words. I realize now that I have once again digressed and have become deliberately obfuscating. So I will let it rest. And for those of you who’ve read this far…Dr. Hales made me look up obfuscate to find out its meaning, and I as well will give you no short cut…do it, it will be worth it.
I love capturing life through photos. There is something beautiful about that moment when I’m behind the lens and the shot comes together just as I imagined it would. There is also something completely fulfilling in writing, for me. Composing language to say exactly what I want it to in the particular way I want it said. And the two are not so dissimilar as it may first appear. The perfect composition of words both conjures and captures visual images and photography does the reverse for me…an image that speaks/screams/whispers its story to you through a language that your mind translates into words. I realize now that I have once again digressed and have become deliberately obfuscating. So I will let it rest. And for those of you who’ve read this far…Dr. Hales made me look up obfuscate to find out its meaning, and I as well will give you no short cut…do it, it will be worth it.
Canadian lover, don't demean yourself...
It is a difficult and tiring thing to have to constantly struggle to make yourself understood. It seems like a million years ago I could express myself, not just satisfactory, but eloquently and persuasively. Some people have claimed that this process of losing your capability to communicate simplifies things…leaves you just the essentials, what really matters, what you really need to say. I disagree. The frugality of language I am forced to employ is debilitating. And that does not simply extend to my usage of Bangla – which is, by sad confession, minimal – but rather, much more noticeable in the way I am able to compose my own language. The English used here seems very different in meaning than the language I am used to. Though the words are the same, the meaning is entirely different. So I am forced to use words in a way I am unaccustomed to in order to convey the meaning I want to get across. And rather than having expressed just the essentials, just what I need to say…I end up having said something along the lines of what it was I intended to say.
Monday, October 23, 2006
make the fireflies dance...
Something in the water??...
This blog entry is dedicated to my many friends who have gotten engaged while I have been gone. It seems like every week I get the crazy wonderful news that another one of my friends has marital plans. Jules, Amy, Jacinda, Cait...all within the past month (and for some reason I feel like there is at least one or two more that I can’t keep straight at the moment)! I am so excited and happy for all of you! It really puts into perspective the idea that life continues while I am gone, and I am disappointed that I can’t physically be there to share in your excitement, but know that I am just as excited here.
I do find it strange though that both Amy and Cait, such formative people in my life these past 5 years, find themselves engaged within weeks of each other. Without knowing each other, you have both found the men who make you happy at the same time and that makes me smile because I have had the privilege of watching it all unfold. You are both awesome and I love you each dearly---that’s right, “dearly”---.and a piece of my heart is there with you until I get there myself to see you in person!
This blog entry is dedicated to my many friends who have gotten engaged while I have been gone. It seems like every week I get the crazy wonderful news that another one of my friends has marital plans. Jules, Amy, Jacinda, Cait...all within the past month (and for some reason I feel like there is at least one or two more that I can’t keep straight at the moment)! I am so excited and happy for all of you! It really puts into perspective the idea that life continues while I am gone, and I am disappointed that I can’t physically be there to share in your excitement, but know that I am just as excited here.
I do find it strange though that both Amy and Cait, such formative people in my life these past 5 years, find themselves engaged within weeks of each other. Without knowing each other, you have both found the men who make you happy at the same time and that makes me smile because I have had the privilege of watching it all unfold. You are both awesome and I love you each dearly---that’s right, “dearly”---.and a piece of my heart is there with you until I get there myself to see you in person!
morning comes in paradise...
I am back in Dhaka today, fighting the polluted, hot, crowded streets (or so it seems after spending 4 days on a boat in the Sundarbans) with a tan and relaxed from a weekend of lounging and eating and exploring. The crowds here are crazy though because Eid is on the horizon. They thought Eid might be today, but as it is a holiday totally dependent upon the appearance of the moon, the whole city is just waiting for it to be announced sometime within the next three days. However, that is far from my mind with the taste of the weekend trip still fresh in my mouth. It was beautiful and warm and worth every last taka to be there. I can’t believe the diversity of this country. After a 6-hour bus ride from Dhaka to Khulna I have seen a lot of this country in passing, and it has given me a hunger to see more, to see slowly and to see deeply into the lives spread out before me. From rice to jute to fishing…this country is as diverse as it is crowded.
The boat trip was incredible. We jumped on a country boat (sort of like a fishing canoe) at the harbour in Khulna and got on the boat that would be our home for the weekend. The first night sleeping on the boat was awesome. Silent and still on the edge of the Sundarban forest, the lights of Khulna in the distance reflected off both clouds and water. It was awesome. I got up early – between 4-4:30 am (which I continued to do throughout the trip) – to wait for and watch the sunrise. That was my favorite time of the day. Sitting alone on the deck in my rolled up jeans and hoodie, sipping hot milk and listening to the sounds of the forest fishing villages. The second day we went for a hike in the forest, which turned out to be more muddy than we anticipated. The entire forest floor was mud and Mangrove roots that was constantly moving with thousands of tiny crabs. We saw some spotted deer, a wild boar or two and some unbelievably fake looking tiger prints. (I still am skeptical because they look so very cartoonish) When we reached the place where forest touched ocean, we found a beach covered with shards of broken clay pots and discovered that it was an abandoned salt flat. – For those of you well versed in Gandhi’s life, I could just picture what it must have been like years ago in a place not so different, maybe even not so far away from where I stood on a salt covered beach.
We all crowded on the little country boat the next morning at 6:00 to take a ride through one of the little rivers that snaked its way through the forest and at that time in the morning it was beautiful! The sun shining through the branches, the quietness of the forest…I loved it. Then we returned to the boat with just enough time to eat breakfast and get our swimsuits on before we trekked through the ‘grasslands’ to get to the sea beach. It was absolutely stunning to see for this prairie girl. (This being the third time I had seen the ocean and all – and even more strange, I have now seen it on three different continents!) It was not the cold, dark, rocky ocean I remember in Vancouver and it wasn’t the tropical crystal clear water of Tela, Honduras either, but it was warm and beautiful and with waves big enough to knock me over if they caught me off guard. We were the only people on the beach for as far as we could see and it was fantastic to swim in that heat and humidity.
That being said, I realize this entry is getting longer and longer with tedious details so I will end for now by saying that tiger or no tiger, this trip was exactly the sort of thing I came out here for!
The boat trip was incredible. We jumped on a country boat (sort of like a fishing canoe) at the harbour in Khulna and got on the boat that would be our home for the weekend. The first night sleeping on the boat was awesome. Silent and still on the edge of the Sundarban forest, the lights of Khulna in the distance reflected off both clouds and water. It was awesome. I got up early – between 4-4:30 am (which I continued to do throughout the trip) – to wait for and watch the sunrise. That was my favorite time of the day. Sitting alone on the deck in my rolled up jeans and hoodie, sipping hot milk and listening to the sounds of the forest fishing villages. The second day we went for a hike in the forest, which turned out to be more muddy than we anticipated. The entire forest floor was mud and Mangrove roots that was constantly moving with thousands of tiny crabs. We saw some spotted deer, a wild boar or two and some unbelievably fake looking tiger prints. (I still am skeptical because they look so very cartoonish) When we reached the place where forest touched ocean, we found a beach covered with shards of broken clay pots and discovered that it was an abandoned salt flat. – For those of you well versed in Gandhi’s life, I could just picture what it must have been like years ago in a place not so different, maybe even not so far away from where I stood on a salt covered beach.
We all crowded on the little country boat the next morning at 6:00 to take a ride through one of the little rivers that snaked its way through the forest and at that time in the morning it was beautiful! The sun shining through the branches, the quietness of the forest…I loved it. Then we returned to the boat with just enough time to eat breakfast and get our swimsuits on before we trekked through the ‘grasslands’ to get to the sea beach. It was absolutely stunning to see for this prairie girl. (This being the third time I had seen the ocean and all – and even more strange, I have now seen it on three different continents!) It was not the cold, dark, rocky ocean I remember in Vancouver and it wasn’t the tropical crystal clear water of Tela, Honduras either, but it was warm and beautiful and with waves big enough to knock me over if they caught me off guard. We were the only people on the beach for as far as we could see and it was fantastic to swim in that heat and humidity.
That being said, I realize this entry is getting longer and longer with tedious details so I will end for now by saying that tiger or no tiger, this trip was exactly the sort of thing I came out here for!
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
grow up and blow away..
There is something particularly exciting about entering a protected area. A space in which things are intended to be kept just exactly how they have remained for thousands of years. 24 hours from entering the eastern Sundarban region of Bangladesh, I feel the thrill of anticipation in the strangest of places…thumping in the pit of my stomach, pounding out of the balls of my feet, pulsing through the creases of my palm. I long to stand on the front of the boat feeling the fresh wind chasing through the jungle, over the water, across my face and reaching further yet than I can see…to become for a moment a piece of the environment, a living, breathing creature of such a delicate ecosystem. Not just a guest or worse, an intruder, but a very fiber of the landscape: intertwined with and equally dependent upon every other part for existence.
This is the life I want to live, perhaps not exiling myself to the jungle with the Bengal tigers, but in a community of equal dependence and belonging, where the individual, community and the environment are all intrinsically intertwined entities that cannot exist outside of the other.
As I write this, it comes to mind that there is a great Celtic symbol that represents this very idea and I happen to carry it with me, though I didn’t have it in mind before I started this piece…
(Those of you who know me well may be aware of my love for and commitment to this symbol on my ring) Each loop in the middle symbol represents an entity – the individual, community, nature – but they are all interconnected at their very core. It also comes to mind that the Christian tradition has used such ancient pagan symbols to represent the trinity of the godhead. Interesting.
This is the life I want to live, perhaps not exiling myself to the jungle with the Bengal tigers, but in a community of equal dependence and belonging, where the individual, community and the environment are all intrinsically intertwined entities that cannot exist outside of the other.
As I write this, it comes to mind that there is a great Celtic symbol that represents this very idea and I happen to carry it with me, though I didn’t have it in mind before I started this piece…
(Those of you who know me well may be aware of my love for and commitment to this symbol on my ring) Each loop in the middle symbol represents an entity – the individual, community, nature – but they are all interconnected at their very core. It also comes to mind that the Christian tradition has used such ancient pagan symbols to represent the trinity of the godhead. Interesting.
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
use your education and take an educated guess...
There is something about feeling like a foreigner in one’s own clothes that is both alarming and invigorating. I am wearing a sari today rather than my usual Shalwar Kameez. It is so much fun and beautiful, but ever so much more complicated. Alana helped me get dressed and it still took a crazy amount of time. I think that when I try to dress myself in one of these, I will have to plan an hour ahead of time at least. All the folding and wrapping and tucking is incredibly intricate and has to be done just right, or you may end up exposing yourself in a very inappropriate way on the street. It is a crazy thing to be wearing this much fabric though. I believe Alana said it is 6 or 8 yards of fabric! “yards of fabric and I still feel naked” (for those of you who don’t like to play my movie line game, that is from EverAfter)
The longer I have been in the city the more crazy it has become with that festive mood of Eid (Muslim ‘christmas’)…this means that there are more beggars accosting you at every street corner, rickshaw/CNG/taxi drivers all refuse the proper fare and require an Eid bonus of sorts along with all cooks and maids and guards etc. And though it is a very fun and exciting time and the place seems to be exploding with movement and life, I am very excited to escape the city tomorrow and leave for my boat trip into the Sundarban region. I leave at 6 am tomorrow - while most of you who read this are eating supper – and go for 4-days along the western Sundarban region floating through the jungle. If you google Sundarban area, you will see just how incredible this place is and I’m sure I’ll be back next week bursting with stories about it all. I’m going with Bengal Tours Ltd. (www.bengaltours.com) for those of you concerned about my personal safety…I’m sure I will be fine because they are very professional and we have armed guards – wait, maybe that fact won’t put your mind at ease! And though it is not the season to spot tigers, and perhaps it is best to stay away from them, I cannot help but hope for some exciting wildlife to shake up the trip a bit. On that note, Happy Eid and eat some cake for me this week to celebrate!
The longer I have been in the city the more crazy it has become with that festive mood of Eid (Muslim ‘christmas’)…this means that there are more beggars accosting you at every street corner, rickshaw/CNG/taxi drivers all refuse the proper fare and require an Eid bonus of sorts along with all cooks and maids and guards etc. And though it is a very fun and exciting time and the place seems to be exploding with movement and life, I am very excited to escape the city tomorrow and leave for my boat trip into the Sundarban region. I leave at 6 am tomorrow - while most of you who read this are eating supper – and go for 4-days along the western Sundarban region floating through the jungle. If you google Sundarban area, you will see just how incredible this place is and I’m sure I’ll be back next week bursting with stories about it all. I’m going with Bengal Tours Ltd. (www.bengaltours.com) for those of you concerned about my personal safety…I’m sure I will be fine because they are very professional and we have armed guards – wait, maybe that fact won’t put your mind at ease! And though it is not the season to spot tigers, and perhaps it is best to stay away from them, I cannot help but hope for some exciting wildlife to shake up the trip a bit. On that note, Happy Eid and eat some cake for me this week to celebrate!
bound by wild desire, i fell into a ring of fire...
Alana and I hosted a party at our flat last night and it was so much fun. The power was out half the time and it was super hot, but we sat around in romantic candlelight and had a great time with so much great food made by Sheuli. There were Americans and Canadians and South Africans and British and New Zealanders all mixed together, and being in this atmosphere of great intercultural diversity I have noticed something. Americans think that for the most part, there is very little difference between Americans and Canadians. And until last night I would have agreed to a point: that in terms of language and proximity and culture, we are a very similar group. However, last night it was not the Americans in whom I found a bit of home but rather – surprisingly – in Kate, from England. I never knew just how much Canadians and Brits have in common. (Alana thinks it’s a commonwealth thing because Annabel from New Zealand says the same thing.) It was so great though to talk with Kate and understand where she’s coming from and what she misses about home even though it’s SO very different from Canada. We talked about everything from fall and cold weather to tea and literature. It was wonderful…and it was also great to have someone on my side in terms of use of the English language. Some of the Americans last night were trying to tell us that “you all” (or y’all) is the proper way to address a group of people. I don’t think Kate and I made any headway concerning their perceptions of what qualifies as “proper” English, but it was good to have someone on my side none-the-less. And for the first time last night I realized that American English – which is so forced upon us through computers etc – is used really only in America and anywhere else in the world that speaks English uses a more British (or Canadian) form of it. It was a very liberating feeling to think of it in that way.
In any case, it is my goal this month to convince some of the Americans here that there is a difference between a “program” and a “programme”.
In any case, it is my goal this month to convince some of the Americans here that there is a difference between a “program” and a “programme”.
Saturday, October 14, 2006
not necessarily needs, but qualities that I'd prefer...
Today I am proud of myself. Exceptionally proud…more than usual, for those of you who know me well and know I already have a healthy self-pride. Haha.
Yesterday I was required to go to an orientation kind of meeting for a boat trip I am going on this weekend. (I’m sure I’ll tell you all more about it later this week, but if you’re bored and want to check it out now, look up www.bengaltours.com) Anyways, after the meeting, I needed to do some errands in the Banani area, so I struck out and adventured through the streets and shops slowly tracking down the things I needed…and more. Anyway, like it is want to do in this country, the wind picked up quickly and I knew I was in trouble…because once the wind picks up you don’t have time to find cover from the impending rain. And boy, did it rain. We do have a selection of umbrellas at the flat, but being raised a southern Albertan girl through and through, I have never truly grasped the need for an umbrella. Anyways, I ended up getting absolutely SOAKED by the 10 minute rain. I was quite a sight I’m sure, this giant bideshi (foreigner) strolling down Kamal Attaturk Avenue without an umbrella.
Regardless, I finished up my errands and decided it was about time to go home – about a 15 minute drive away. So I hailed an empty CNG (sort of a covered 3-wheeled scooter – he step between a rickshaw and a taxi) and began my, now familiar, bargaining with the driver. See, these CNGs and taxis have meters, but strangely enough, whenever a foreigner hails one down, their meter just isn’t working that day so you have to haggle out a price the hard way. Toby and Annabel (who have been here 3 months and 1 year respectively) have yet to ever get a ride with a running meter…though my roommate Alana is legendary at getting drivers to use the meter. And well, I must have learned from the best because after only a short amount of time, I got this guy to agree to use his meter. I was so in utter astonishment that I asked him more times that I needed to if I really understood him right…and at the end of the trip, I gave him a big tip because I was so happy he used the meter…so really, I cheated myself, but it’s the principle of the thing…I got a CNG to use the meter! And for that I am exceptionally proud of myself today.
Yesterday I was required to go to an orientation kind of meeting for a boat trip I am going on this weekend. (I’m sure I’ll tell you all more about it later this week, but if you’re bored and want to check it out now, look up www.bengaltours.com) Anyways, after the meeting, I needed to do some errands in the Banani area, so I struck out and adventured through the streets and shops slowly tracking down the things I needed…and more. Anyway, like it is want to do in this country, the wind picked up quickly and I knew I was in trouble…because once the wind picks up you don’t have time to find cover from the impending rain. And boy, did it rain. We do have a selection of umbrellas at the flat, but being raised a southern Albertan girl through and through, I have never truly grasped the need for an umbrella. Anyways, I ended up getting absolutely SOAKED by the 10 minute rain. I was quite a sight I’m sure, this giant bideshi (foreigner) strolling down Kamal Attaturk Avenue without an umbrella.
Regardless, I finished up my errands and decided it was about time to go home – about a 15 minute drive away. So I hailed an empty CNG (sort of a covered 3-wheeled scooter – he step between a rickshaw and a taxi) and began my, now familiar, bargaining with the driver. See, these CNGs and taxis have meters, but strangely enough, whenever a foreigner hails one down, their meter just isn’t working that day so you have to haggle out a price the hard way. Toby and Annabel (who have been here 3 months and 1 year respectively) have yet to ever get a ride with a running meter…though my roommate Alana is legendary at getting drivers to use the meter. And well, I must have learned from the best because after only a short amount of time, I got this guy to agree to use his meter. I was so in utter astonishment that I asked him more times that I needed to if I really understood him right…and at the end of the trip, I gave him a big tip because I was so happy he used the meter…so really, I cheated myself, but it’s the principle of the thing…I got a CNG to use the meter! And for that I am exceptionally proud of myself today.
Friday, October 13, 2006
all the glory that the Lord has made, and the complications I could do without..
It is 9:45p.m. and 36 degrees under the fan and I am wearing a hoodie. Before you start believing that I am completely and utterly insane, wait…I have no defense, other than the fact that it feels SO comfy. Though this might not be the night to pull out a sweater, it was the night I needed to. And to be honest, I think my body is in complete and utter shock and doesn’t really know what to do about it.
Today I came home from the office to find that the last of my skittles my roommates bought me had spontaneously combusted (and I know some of you chem geeks who read this will say they didn’t “combust” so I will rephrase that) My skittles exploded. You know when you put skittles in the microwave for 2 seconds too long and they burst? Okay maybe you’ve never heated up your skittles before – try it…its amazing! – but they did so in my secret stash of candy. It got so hot they just burst open and turned into a mass of melted liquid. (it is moments like this that I can’t believe human life – and so much of it – can live in this climate…mind you I’m sure I’ll be saying the same thing when I come back to Canada in the dead of winter!) Anyways, so now I am wearing my hoodie, lying on the couch and licking out my skittles bag full of melted sugary goodness…I love it!
Today I came home from the office to find that the last of my skittles my roommates bought me had spontaneously combusted (and I know some of you chem geeks who read this will say they didn’t “combust” so I will rephrase that) My skittles exploded. You know when you put skittles in the microwave for 2 seconds too long and they burst? Okay maybe you’ve never heated up your skittles before – try it…its amazing! – but they did so in my secret stash of candy. It got so hot they just burst open and turned into a mass of melted liquid. (it is moments like this that I can’t believe human life – and so much of it – can live in this climate…mind you I’m sure I’ll be saying the same thing when I come back to Canada in the dead of winter!) Anyways, so now I am wearing my hoodie, lying on the couch and licking out my skittles bag full of melted sugary goodness…I love it!
Thursday, October 12, 2006
your barefeet dancing crazy in shards of wineglasses...
I had a surprise visit to the field this morning. Apparently my supervisors forgot to let me know that I would be interviewing 4 groups today in the slums area I hadn’t been to yet. Yeah. So, I did the only thing I could do and I just flew by the seat of my ‘shalwar’ – somehow that sounded much more clever in my head that it does now that I look at it, but I will not be deterred!
Anyways, what usually happens in the field is that I visit a group and they tell me all about their activities, then I ask some questions about it and then I end by asking if they have any questions of me, and mostly it goes a little something like this…
Are you married? (always the first and sometimes the only question)
- no
Do you have any plans to get married?
- no, not at the moment…not in the near future
But you’re so old to be single!
- yes, I am 21
Don’t you want children?
- maybe
Well, you should get married! Look for a husband…I have a son!
- thank you, but no
Are you healthy?
- yes, I am very well thank you
But you’re so skinny…you need to eat more.
- oh, I will. I very much like Bangla food
Do you have siblings?
- yes, three sisters…all are married and all have children
But you are not married?
- no
Oh…You should eat more and find a husband.
- thank you. I will do so. I very much enjoyed meeting you and thank you for your time
Thank you for coming, please come back to Bangladesh!
It makes me laugh every time. I almost want to give the answers to their questions in English before they even ask them because its all so predictable…haha, I love talking with them though, it has really been my favorite part about this place so far!
And it rained today while I was in a group meeting…which meant my shoes were outside…which means my Birkenstocks are still squishy and damp…which worries me because things just don’t dry that easily in this kind of humidity.
On one last note…I hear Donne is being taught in 17th this week and I wish I could be there to talk about his genius - its probably a good thing I’m not because I wouldn’t shut up about it – but I will go home and read some tonight to myself anyways… “she is all states, all princes I – nothing else is”
Anyways, what usually happens in the field is that I visit a group and they tell me all about their activities, then I ask some questions about it and then I end by asking if they have any questions of me, and mostly it goes a little something like this…
Are you married? (always the first and sometimes the only question)
- no
Do you have any plans to get married?
- no, not at the moment…not in the near future
But you’re so old to be single!
- yes, I am 21
Don’t you want children?
- maybe
Well, you should get married! Look for a husband…I have a son!
- thank you, but no
Are you healthy?
- yes, I am very well thank you
But you’re so skinny…you need to eat more.
- oh, I will. I very much like Bangla food
Do you have siblings?
- yes, three sisters…all are married and all have children
But you are not married?
- no
Oh…You should eat more and find a husband.
- thank you. I will do so. I very much enjoyed meeting you and thank you for your time
Thank you for coming, please come back to Bangladesh!
It makes me laugh every time. I almost want to give the answers to their questions in English before they even ask them because its all so predictable…haha, I love talking with them though, it has really been my favorite part about this place so far!
And it rained today while I was in a group meeting…which meant my shoes were outside…which means my Birkenstocks are still squishy and damp…which worries me because things just don’t dry that easily in this kind of humidity.
On one last note…I hear Donne is being taught in 17th this week and I wish I could be there to talk about his genius - its probably a good thing I’m not because I wouldn’t shut up about it – but I will go home and read some tonight to myself anyways… “she is all states, all princes I – nothing else is”
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
whisper words of wisdom...
I visited the slums yesterday morning and yesterday afternoon spent the afternoon in an enormous 5 story shopping centre that felt like it would give West Ed a run for the money (Okay, it wasn’t quite that big, but it certainly felt like it). And I thought to myself, how can anyone possibly process these two extremes, let alone in one afternoon, in one city. Dr. Long presented me with an interesting challenge today, being the continual sociologist that he is, he called me to task on what I could possibly mean by “Doing justice to the slums”. And I have spent most of my morning in the office thinking about that question. What does doing justice to the slums look like? This blog entry is not going to even attempt to answer that, but it is running around in my head.
On another note…its is a little cooler today thank goodness! At midnight it was still 38 degree, but when I got up this morning at 7 it was only 35. Alana has a thermometer in her room and though it is a little depressing, and I can only imagine the humidity factor on top of it, it is kind of strange to think that it is 35 degrees out and I’m feeling a little cool. I hear it’s freezing at home during the night and I am closing my eyes and imagining the sparkle of frost on the picnic table in the early morning sun.
On another note…its is a little cooler today thank goodness! At midnight it was still 38 degree, but when I got up this morning at 7 it was only 35. Alana has a thermometer in her room and though it is a little depressing, and I can only imagine the humidity factor on top of it, it is kind of strange to think that it is 35 degrees out and I’m feeling a little cool. I hear it’s freezing at home during the night and I am closing my eyes and imagining the sparkle of frost on the picnic table in the early morning sun.
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
viva el tango...
My computer and I have a relationship. His name is Romero and he listens to me. He actually does for those of you who don't know. I can say "Romero, do such and such" and he responds to my voice and does it! Its a wonderful thing these Macs. There's this little mic icon on my desktop that has his name on it and it monitors me all the time...it monitors my voice and all the sounds around me waiting to recognize and respond to a command from me. The little guy even monitors the volume of things around him. The little bars light up green to orange to red depending on how loud I'm speaking.
I feel like I have become a bit of a human Romero. I sit and listen to everything going on - most of it in a language I don't understand - just waiting in case I am being spoken to in English and required to respond. I thought at first, to give it a nice ring, I was continually involved in being an active listener. Unfortunately, I have not been able to convince myself. I am a Romero that sits inanimately monitoring the volume of speech around me waiting to get the English cue to speak or to actually pay attention to what is being said. It is an exhausting position to be in and it is wearing on me.
Now I just wait for my name to be said before I pay attention because really, the more tired I become, the more I can't differentiate between Bangla and Banglish (which is what I call the very special brand of "English" spoken here). What makes it a little more tricky is that my name seems to be particularly difficult to pronounce here...so I'm often called "biryani" (beer-ee-ann-ee) which I'm told is a kind or red rice usually only eaten at parties.
That being said, this red rice girl is checking out for the evening to go watch a much deserved mindless DVD at my flat after a much needed ice cold shower.
I feel like I have become a bit of a human Romero. I sit and listen to everything going on - most of it in a language I don't understand - just waiting in case I am being spoken to in English and required to respond. I thought at first, to give it a nice ring, I was continually involved in being an active listener. Unfortunately, I have not been able to convince myself. I am a Romero that sits inanimately monitoring the volume of speech around me waiting to get the English cue to speak or to actually pay attention to what is being said. It is an exhausting position to be in and it is wearing on me.
Now I just wait for my name to be said before I pay attention because really, the more tired I become, the more I can't differentiate between Bangla and Banglish (which is what I call the very special brand of "English" spoken here). What makes it a little more tricky is that my name seems to be particularly difficult to pronounce here...so I'm often called "biryani" (beer-ee-ann-ee) which I'm told is a kind or red rice usually only eaten at parties.
That being said, this red rice girl is checking out for the evening to go watch a much deserved mindless DVD at my flat after a much needed ice cold shower.
hazy shade of winter...
My Bengali Thanksgiving Dinner…
1 glass of RC lemon soda
15 cubes of choked down papaya
2 scoops of caramel ice cream
3 humidity softened almonds
1 kinder surprise (the chocolate doesn’t melt in 40 degree weather for some strange reason…does this worry anyone else?!)
7 tomato flavoured imitation Pringles chips
4 pieces of fermenting pineapple
1 melting strawberry foam pig face candy (closest I can get to ham in this country)
1 glass of RC lemon soda
15 cubes of choked down papaya
2 scoops of caramel ice cream
3 humidity softened almonds
1 kinder surprise (the chocolate doesn’t melt in 40 degree weather for some strange reason…does this worry anyone else?!)
7 tomato flavoured imitation Pringles chips
4 pieces of fermenting pineapple
1 melting strawberry foam pig face candy (closest I can get to ham in this country)
Sunday, October 08, 2006
I've got a hunger twisting my stomach into knots...
A few years back I spent 10 days with a family in Quebec city and from that experience I have a toast story. It goes a little something like this...when we finally got to their house they were asking me if I was hungry, and I was famished so I said yes and then they proceeded to list of items I could have for a snack. However, the only word I understood of the whole long list was toast, so enthusiastically I said that I would LOVE some toast. They then proceeded to present me with an entire plate (I think there must have been 4 or 5 slices) of that thick kind of “texas toast” bread that’s square and huge! It was good, but it was a lot of toast. Anyway, everyday after that, with every meal, beside my plate there sat a plate of toast. Yeah, so I chocked down about 9 slices of texas toast bread everyday just because I was a little over eager about the toast.
Well, that long story is just to illustrate a history with me. Yesterday Alana left and I am here alone, but Sheuli our house-help comes in everyday from 8-4. She makes me lunch and does our grocery shopping. Anyway, she asked me today what we needed for groceries. Well, I didn’t know so she started listing things and the only thing I understood was Papaya so I said sure, papaya. And perhaps, looking back on it now, I may have said it a little too enthusiastically….because I came home and there was a huge and I mean HUGE bowl of cut up papaya in the fridge which needs to be eaten quickly because it tends to get soft and gelatin-like after two days or so. The problem is, I don’t like papaya. In fact, I (other than papaya mix drinks) I try my best to avoid it. I think it has the worst texture ever and very little taste to make it desirable. But I can’t help that now. In fact, I sit here with the power off sweating up a storm (I even have to wipe off the keyboard every few minutes because my fingers and knuckles are sweating on the keyboard!) Anyways, enough of that grossness…as I was saying, I’m sitting here with three candles, sweating my ass off, eating disgusting papaya.
Damn my over eager food mistakes!
Well, that long story is just to illustrate a history with me. Yesterday Alana left and I am here alone, but Sheuli our house-help comes in everyday from 8-4. She makes me lunch and does our grocery shopping. Anyway, she asked me today what we needed for groceries. Well, I didn’t know so she started listing things and the only thing I understood was Papaya so I said sure, papaya. And perhaps, looking back on it now, I may have said it a little too enthusiastically….because I came home and there was a huge and I mean HUGE bowl of cut up papaya in the fridge which needs to be eaten quickly because it tends to get soft and gelatin-like after two days or so. The problem is, I don’t like papaya. In fact, I (other than papaya mix drinks) I try my best to avoid it. I think it has the worst texture ever and very little taste to make it desirable. But I can’t help that now. In fact, I sit here with the power off sweating up a storm (I even have to wipe off the keyboard every few minutes because my fingers and knuckles are sweating on the keyboard!) Anyways, enough of that grossness…as I was saying, I’m sitting here with three candles, sweating my ass off, eating disgusting papaya.
Damn my over eager food mistakes!
the sound of me singin' with you...
What I have seen today, what I have been through, lived, connected with….you cannot understand. It doesn’t matter how many years I’ve studied English to hone the way in which I can wield my words, it doesn’t matter how fancy a camera I own to capture the moment. I cannot express this in any way that will come near what it is like.
I visited the slums I will be documenting today. I am only allowed two days in them (one today and one tomorrow) and I am completely unimpressed with that, because they are amazing and captivating. If I could, I would go everyday to sit with them and listen and be a part of their community. And the strangest thing is that though I don’t speak the language AT ALL and though I had the project managers along to ‘translate’, when the people would introduce themselves and tell me their jobs in the groups they’re in, I could understand…not in a ‘God gave me the gift of tongues’ kind of understand…but in a way deeper than language. It could be that I’m picking up more Bangla, or perhaps I’m learning more and more that the need to speak it is insignificant.
The kids trailed me all down the alleys and grabbed at my hands and clothes and camera bag, not as though they wanted to steal it, but in a way that felt welcoming. You often hear of these swarms of kids touching you and overwhelming you as a foreigner and its often explained away by the fact that you are different and they want to touch white skin or blonde hair, etc. But after today, I disagree…and when I think of it, it wasn’t this way in Honduras either…rather than them wanting to take something from me when they touch me, I feel as though when the kids touched my hands and arms it was as though they were giving a piece of themselves to me, a deeper kind of welcoming to the only community they have ever known.
I could tell the details of the ‘houses’ and living areas in these slums, but such descriptions will fall embarrassingly short, so instead I will simply say that the warmest welcome I have received yet in this country was from the people who live in these places. Strangely enough, to them I did not feel like an elite, but rather a member – even for the briefiest period of time – a member of their community, their struggles, their passion and hope.
I’ve been reading a bit of D.H. Lawrence out here and the first lines of Lady Chatterly’s Lover came to me today as I met these people full of hope and pain and energy:
“Our is essentially a tragic age, so we refuse to take it tragically. The cataciysm has happened, we are among the ruins, we start to build up new little habitats, to have new little hopes. It is rather hard work: there is now no smooth road into the future: but we go round, or scramble over the obstacles. We’ve got to live, no matter how many skies have fallen.” – D.H. Lawrence from Lady Chatterly’s Lover
I visited the slums I will be documenting today. I am only allowed two days in them (one today and one tomorrow) and I am completely unimpressed with that, because they are amazing and captivating. If I could, I would go everyday to sit with them and listen and be a part of their community. And the strangest thing is that though I don’t speak the language AT ALL and though I had the project managers along to ‘translate’, when the people would introduce themselves and tell me their jobs in the groups they’re in, I could understand…not in a ‘God gave me the gift of tongues’ kind of understand…but in a way deeper than language. It could be that I’m picking up more Bangla, or perhaps I’m learning more and more that the need to speak it is insignificant.
The kids trailed me all down the alleys and grabbed at my hands and clothes and camera bag, not as though they wanted to steal it, but in a way that felt welcoming. You often hear of these swarms of kids touching you and overwhelming you as a foreigner and its often explained away by the fact that you are different and they want to touch white skin or blonde hair, etc. But after today, I disagree…and when I think of it, it wasn’t this way in Honduras either…rather than them wanting to take something from me when they touch me, I feel as though when the kids touched my hands and arms it was as though they were giving a piece of themselves to me, a deeper kind of welcoming to the only community they have ever known.
I could tell the details of the ‘houses’ and living areas in these slums, but such descriptions will fall embarrassingly short, so instead I will simply say that the warmest welcome I have received yet in this country was from the people who live in these places. Strangely enough, to them I did not feel like an elite, but rather a member – even for the briefiest period of time – a member of their community, their struggles, their passion and hope.
I’ve been reading a bit of D.H. Lawrence out here and the first lines of Lady Chatterly’s Lover came to me today as I met these people full of hope and pain and energy:
“Our is essentially a tragic age, so we refuse to take it tragically. The cataciysm has happened, we are among the ruins, we start to build up new little habitats, to have new little hopes. It is rather hard work: there is now no smooth road into the future: but we go round, or scramble over the obstacles. We’ve got to live, no matter how many skies have fallen.” – D.H. Lawrence from Lady Chatterly’s Lover
world is on fire
I had a North American day today. It began at 9:30 this morning when Alana and I met up with a whole bunch of people at the football field the USA owns (it has a ten-foot wall around it so you can play sports in regular clothes (shorts/t-shirts/tanktops) and we played Ultimate Frisbee. I should correct that…I took pictures while a bunch of crazy Americans and Brits ran around in ridiculous heat chasing a plastic disc. And to those of you who are writing this off as just a symptom of my distaste for participating in group athletics…I challenge you to come out here and play a competitive game of UF in this heat and humidity! Ha.
Anyways, afterwards, Alana and I headed off to Banani area where she sat at Gelato Club (this amazing little gelato place! SO good! But ‘expensive’ in the Bangladesh sort of way: one scoop = $1.15). Anyways, she sat and worked on her laptop at Gelato Club while I walked and rickshawed around Banani and bought some clothes and managed on my own just fine, so it was fun. Then Toby called us and we met him at the American club (where he is a member and signed us in as guests) and we had hamburgers and fries with French’s mustard – and coincidentally, you can have a nice beer there too – and went in the pool and sat around and had a good time. Alana had a lot of work to do and ended up lounging around the poolside with her laptop, so Toby and I floated around in the pool playing Marco Polo with the kids etc. It was so much fun to be in water! I realized it had been over a year since I had last been swimming so I ended up in the pool for about 2 hours straight! (and didn’t drown believe it or not!)
Well, tomorrow Alana leaves for a week and I’m on my own out here, and though I’ve gotten to know a few expatriates in the city, they live rather far away. So hopefully I will be able to manage without freaking myself out too much or getting too lonely.
With that being said…by the time you read this, I will have been out to visit the slums I will be documenting. Wish me luck and please think about me this week while I’m left to my own devices armed only with a map and a camera!
Anyways, afterwards, Alana and I headed off to Banani area where she sat at Gelato Club (this amazing little gelato place! SO good! But ‘expensive’ in the Bangladesh sort of way: one scoop = $1.15). Anyways, she sat and worked on her laptop at Gelato Club while I walked and rickshawed around Banani and bought some clothes and managed on my own just fine, so it was fun. Then Toby called us and we met him at the American club (where he is a member and signed us in as guests) and we had hamburgers and fries with French’s mustard – and coincidentally, you can have a nice beer there too – and went in the pool and sat around and had a good time. Alana had a lot of work to do and ended up lounging around the poolside with her laptop, so Toby and I floated around in the pool playing Marco Polo with the kids etc. It was so much fun to be in water! I realized it had been over a year since I had last been swimming so I ended up in the pool for about 2 hours straight! (and didn’t drown believe it or not!)
Well, tomorrow Alana leaves for a week and I’m on my own out here, and though I’ve gotten to know a few expatriates in the city, they live rather far away. So hopefully I will be able to manage without freaking myself out too much or getting too lonely.
With that being said…by the time you read this, I will have been out to visit the slums I will be documenting. Wish me luck and please think about me this week while I’m left to my own devices armed only with a map and a camera!
Thursday, October 05, 2006
they used to tie you up...it's a living
First of all….Happy Birthday Trixie! I was thinking about you today and how I would love to walk down the alley to your place and bring you a brownie with a single candle…just like the first time we met. Mmm, brownie…I could go for one of those right now! Baked goods just aren’t the same out here. Today I will have a treat for you…not a brownie, but something sweet and of the edible quality none-the-less and as I eat it I will think of you. Plus I am listening to the RENT soundtrack and I had this memory of you and Hailey singing the ‘Light My Candle’ sound to me in your respective parts…maybe just Hailey was…I can’t remember anymore.
There’s something about “buzzwords”. Having spent the better part of my last four years at The King’s, I’ve absorbed the classic TKUC buzzwords into my own vocabulary. Without knowing it I find King’s-coined* phrases flying out of my mouth and leaving the people around me needing clarification and explanation. Which makes for a difficult position for me….I am used to those I am entering into dialogue with intrinsically understanding the whole comprehensive meaning of my buzz words and the baggage attached to them.
What is just as difficult is entering into a new social culture that already has its own buzzwords and phrases. The most used buzz word here is “capacity”. There is capacity building, capacity indicators, capacity assessments, etc. Now, capacity – like the TKUC version of “worldview” – means just what you would think it means…but oh so much more. It carries with it all the complexities and connotations of this particular social culture (also like the TKUC “worldview”). As if learning bits and pieces of an entirely new and foreign language wasn’t enough, I am struggling to get used to the particular vocabulary of this place, but it peaks my curiosity and I enjoy wading my way though it.
*I quite apologize to my esteemed English professors who have once taught me the correct way in which to use the term “coined” and I fear I may have terribly misused it in this instance!
There’s something about “buzzwords”. Having spent the better part of my last four years at The King’s, I’ve absorbed the classic TKUC buzzwords into my own vocabulary. Without knowing it I find King’s-coined* phrases flying out of my mouth and leaving the people around me needing clarification and explanation. Which makes for a difficult position for me….I am used to those I am entering into dialogue with intrinsically understanding the whole comprehensive meaning of my buzz words and the baggage attached to them.
What is just as difficult is entering into a new social culture that already has its own buzzwords and phrases. The most used buzz word here is “capacity”. There is capacity building, capacity indicators, capacity assessments, etc. Now, capacity – like the TKUC version of “worldview” – means just what you would think it means…but oh so much more. It carries with it all the complexities and connotations of this particular social culture (also like the TKUC “worldview”). As if learning bits and pieces of an entirely new and foreign language wasn’t enough, I am struggling to get used to the particular vocabulary of this place, but it peaks my curiosity and I enjoy wading my way though it.
*I quite apologize to my esteemed English professors who have once taught me the correct way in which to use the term “coined” and I fear I may have terribly misused it in this instance!
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
don't be alarmed if I fall head over feet
Today is October 3rd, and I am now feeling a bit at home or at ease in this place. I can take a rickshaw to the market – though I go to the fixed price markets because I’m not attempting bartering for goods yet…bartering for rickshaws yes, for goods, no – I can find my way from my friend’s places to mine again, I know what my favorite dessert is here (surprisingly not cake), I know most of what is in my neighborhood, I know a few key phrases in bangla, I know what I’m doing for my internship, I have a phone and internet and an office and I feel good. There is a powerful beauty in KNOWING.
I hopefully begin doing some field work in the slums this week. (I am finalizing my work plan with my supervisors this afternoon.) I’m excited for that because first of all, I’ll be really getting into my project and second, think of the pictures I can take there (mind you, this whole city is like a million photographs screaming to be taken). I didn’t take my camera out in the street until this week because if I had at first, I would have taken 2,000 cliché tourist shots a day. I think the more intriguing shots are the ones that you see when you intimately know the place you’re photographing, because you can see the intricacies of your subject. Anyways, enough photography theory, suffice it to say I’m gonna try to get some photos up in the next 10 days (sorry I can’t be more specific than that! Haha)
In other news, I live on the top floor of my building and elevators are not really something that happens here, so I have to walk 8 sets of uneven stairs to get to my flat. Yes, pity me and my distaste for exercise. Mind you, I think all of you crazy people who love to do such things would probably decline doing so considering it is consistently 36-39 degrees here with a humidity of 82-94%. Yes, that makes the stair climb all the better.
What is worse though is the power outages. It doesn’t matter so much at the office because we have a generator there, but at home when the power goes out (which it does at least 3 times a day – more on hot days) it gets HOT…we don’t have AC and with the power out, even the fans don’t run. So you sit or lay in one spot very still and wait it out (read by candlelight) until an hour later when the power comes back on.
All in all though, the power and the stairs and the heat are all very little things in the scope of my experience here thus far. It is so good to be here and despite its overwhelming craziness, I am beginning to really like this place.
I hopefully begin doing some field work in the slums this week. (I am finalizing my work plan with my supervisors this afternoon.) I’m excited for that because first of all, I’ll be really getting into my project and second, think of the pictures I can take there (mind you, this whole city is like a million photographs screaming to be taken). I didn’t take my camera out in the street until this week because if I had at first, I would have taken 2,000 cliché tourist shots a day. I think the more intriguing shots are the ones that you see when you intimately know the place you’re photographing, because you can see the intricacies of your subject. Anyways, enough photography theory, suffice it to say I’m gonna try to get some photos up in the next 10 days (sorry I can’t be more specific than that! Haha)
In other news, I live on the top floor of my building and elevators are not really something that happens here, so I have to walk 8 sets of uneven stairs to get to my flat. Yes, pity me and my distaste for exercise. Mind you, I think all of you crazy people who love to do such things would probably decline doing so considering it is consistently 36-39 degrees here with a humidity of 82-94%. Yes, that makes the stair climb all the better.
What is worse though is the power outages. It doesn’t matter so much at the office because we have a generator there, but at home when the power goes out (which it does at least 3 times a day – more on hot days) it gets HOT…we don’t have AC and with the power out, even the fans don’t run. So you sit or lay in one spot very still and wait it out (read by candlelight) until an hour later when the power comes back on.
All in all though, the power and the stairs and the heat are all very little things in the scope of my experience here thus far. It is so good to be here and despite its overwhelming craziness, I am beginning to really like this place.
i wonder if you can pick my accent on the phone
I am sick. Very very sick. I can’t eat anything because my stomach barely can stand water (I tried juice, it didn’t go so well). On Friday I ended up breaking the Ramadan fast with some Muslims and it was awesome. They call the meal they eat for sundown: Iftar…most everything is deep-fried but very good. (they eat SO much here… breakfast at 7 or 8 , lunch at 1 or 2, Iftar at 6 and supper at 9 or 10!) Anyways I ate street Iftar with them on Friday and Alana (who has been here for 3 years) got a little sick but I was fine. Unfortunately today I am sick. I can even sleep because my stomach cramps up so bad. And Christa you’ll love this….the food that made me this sick was from a fancy Indian restaurant we went to last night with some other expatriates. That combined with the fact that I’m a bit dehydrated has taken me down, and taken me down hard.
Yeah, I eat the street Iftar and I’m fine, but take me to a fancy restaurant and I become very ill.
And it’s so hot today too. The power goes out here regularly – about 3 or 4 times a day for about an hour each time. And that isn’t so bad in the office because we have a generator, but Alana’s place does not have one and so all the fans go off and you just sit and sweat and sweat and sweat for an hour until the fan comes back on.
For the rest of the day I think I’m going to sit back and watch some of Alana’s DVD collection and try to settle my stomach, or unknot it or whatever. Okay friends, good-bye for now from the sick newbee on this side of the world!
Yeah, I eat the street Iftar and I’m fine, but take me to a fancy restaurant and I become very ill.
And it’s so hot today too. The power goes out here regularly – about 3 or 4 times a day for about an hour each time. And that isn’t so bad in the office because we have a generator, but Alana’s place does not have one and so all the fans go off and you just sit and sweat and sweat and sweat for an hour until the fan comes back on.
For the rest of the day I think I’m going to sit back and watch some of Alana’s DVD collection and try to settle my stomach, or unknot it or whatever. Okay friends, good-bye for now from the sick newbee on this side of the world!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
