Namaste, Nepal (and now Denver!)

Would you do it again?

2010-02-04T21:28:00.003-07:00

I have had a year and a half of gut issues that probably originated when I lived in Nepal. The lack of diagnosis makes the invasive medical tests difficult medicine to swallow, but we know what the problem isn't. It isn't celiac, but if I avoid wheat I feel mostly normal. It isn't a giardia infection. I'm hoping it's not lactose or sugar replacements intolerance, but I'm humoring the GI doc and cutting them out for now, too.

This evening I was discussing said gut issues with my boyfriend who has been with me through the invasive diagnostics but didn't know me prior to January (yes, a little awkward to discuss one's bowels with a new partner, but now I know he's a keeper, right?) He commented that, though he admires the spirit with which I undertook my international volunteer work, he doesn't think he'd ever do such a thing given my and another friend's experience with gut issues after living abroad.

Then he asked if I'd do it again.

And I would, even knowing that I may come home with a completely different gut than when I left, which would preclude me eating staple foods - no pasta for a runner? Blasphemy! - participating in social events - no beer for me - and refreshing my breath after a meal of garlic - well, I am hoping to be able to chew gum again...

I try not to regret decisions I've made or experiences I've had, and this one is no different, even given how many changes I've had to make to my life as a result. If we are afforded experiences that change us forever for the good, then we have to also accept the experiences that change us forever for the bad.

Photos from the last (for now) Durango Snowdown Hash

Thinking about blogging is not the same as actually writing a post

2010-01-09T23:34:00.004-07:00

I have been *thinking* about blogging, but clearly have not been doing so. Rather than give a run-down of that which I want to blog about I'll just do it in the up coming weeks.

For the moment, I am going to continue to put off writing a post of substance because I am in the process of reflecting on 2009 and what's to come in 2010; I am using the questions found in this post. I encourage you to do the same.

Photo take at the Palm Springs airport at the conclusion of my visit to see my sister and nephews in November.

Rock Canyon Half

2009-12-06T11:13:00.002-07:00

Ran the Rock Canyon half marathon yesterday. For this, my first half marathon, my goals were lofty; I a) wanted to finish and b) wanted to finish in less than 2:30:00. I achieved both of my goals although, by the end, I felt like I was shuffling more than running. Results here.

I got home at 2pm, about two hours after I left Pueblo, and immediately fell asleep on the couch until 5:45p. Then I went dancing. I think the dancing was a good recovery activity; not taxing, but still actively moving that lactic acid out of my muscles. I am sore this morning, but not nearly as sore as I had anticipated.

Now that I have proven to myself I can run 13.1 miles, look for additional race results, including the Colfax Marathon in May!

Vox

2009-11-21T23:01:00.002-07:00

Saw Vox Feminista this evening with mostly Planned Parenthood folks I met while volunteering (which I no longer do because I have a full-time job that's a handful for the moment).

It's the second of their shows I've seen and, as it was last year, seeing the show is exhausting, but also energizing and empowering.

With the tag line that reads, "To comfort the disturbed and to disturb the comfortable" this is definitely worth a look-see if you're in the Denver, Boulder or Fort Collins areas in the next week.

Passion (maybe a redux?)

2009-11-05T20:05:00.002-07:00

I was recently asked about my experience in Nepal by a complete stranger. Specifically 'What was my experience like in Nepal?' I came up with a disjointed summary of some of the Nepal realizations I continue to mull over whilst participating in this American life...

In response to 'What was my experience like in Nepal?':

Amazing. Unsettling, in a good way. Refreshing.

Comfortable (I had never met so many people [Americans & foreigners doing mostly aid work] so passionate about their work before!) I don't like that so many people do (or have to do) jobs they don't feel passionate about. For some it's a choice (that I don't understand) for others it's necessity, which I do understand. But it was so comfortable and encouraging to hang out with crowds of folks who all *want* to be doing the work they're doing. The same can't be said for the locals, but the foreigners are a passionate bunch.

Also Nepal + meditation course = heightened self-awareness. I returned to the States feeling more independent and self-reliant than when I left. I think it was partially discovering that I was able to negotiate life in a completely foreign country by myself, but also that I don't *need* another person or any of the stuff I have accumulated.

I then purged 3/4 of the possessions that I paid to store for 4 months, packed the UHaul, and moved to Colorado. I still have stuff and I still like and want friends, but I feel more comfortable going my own way more often than not. Not 'needing' to stay up late because others are. Not 'needing' someone to accompany me in new experiences.

I was happier than I had been in a year, and happier than I have since been, while living in that developing country with dreadful water sanitation, blackouts for 17 hours per day, and no creature comforts.

A bit of a fanatic

2009-11-02T20:06:00.003-07:00

I come from a short line of crossword puzzlers and, though it was not solely my grandparents who inspired my becoming a crossword fanatic, I'll give credit (or blame, depending upon how you view this hobby) where credit is due.

In addition to, or perhaps because of, the grand 'rent's influence, I enjoy word games - Scrabble, crossword puzzles, Apples to Apples, etc. But since Michael and I started getting together to do the Denver Posts' daily crossword puzzle offerings - NEA and New York Times - I have become a fanatic. But I do try to tread lightly on the reading material of others.

One of my first days at the county health department I had noticed the newspaper on the lunch room table, but didn't take the crossword puzzle page until 4:30pm, long after anyone cared about the paper. This led me to believe that, of those who read the paper, none were crossword puzzlers. And I've been snatching the crossword puzzle page(s) out of the paper at lunch ever since.

Perhaps this behavior doesn't smack of fanaticism, but when I tell you that I work the puzzle while sitting (in the driver's seat) at red lights on my commute home and then save the week's puzzles in order to work on them a bit before falling asleep, you might be more convinced of the appropriateness of the adjective I've assigned myself.

I tell this tale not only to share yet another aspect of my personality with you, but also to brag that today, November 2, 2009, I completed the New York Times Crossword ALL BY MYSELF (and only looked at the answers four times. Four times out of 136 clues! I only looked up 2.9% of the answers!) In the words of Julie, I'm darn tootin' proud of myself. And now to conquer Tuesday - Sunday.

Neighborhood

2009-10-26T21:39:00.002-06:00

As I have moved from 'unemployed' to 'employed' and soon 'credit card debt free' I am looking towards the long-term future. A future filled with home ownership, a second cat, and a garden to call my own. But where?

Where I want to live and where I can afford to do so are turning out to be two very different parts of town. So I am working through what's most important - close to social life versus close to work, driving versus walking or biking, proximity to a grocery, proximity to friends. And it is the latter that is foremost on my mind currently. Specifically the friends I've made through my local coffee shop.

They are entertaining, caring folks, but how do they factor into my decision? And what else needs to factor into this decision (besides money)? Proximity to my hair dresser? A grocery? Distance from a fire station (I currently live 3 blocks from the busiest station in town; I need some distance from the sirens!) Distance from a busy street so Max can go outside? The school district for the children who aren't even a twinkle in my eye? Proximity to Julie? Michael? Chloe? Running folks?

I like the community with which I have surrounded myself in Capitol Hill. It is friendly. It is open minded. It is convenient. But it is expensive! Indeed, I want a room of my own, but I don't want to be a slave to the mortgage for it when I get to that point.

The Human Race 10K

2009-10-26T21:37:00.001-06:00

It was sponsored by Nike, but I didn't fall for their ploys. I just ran their 10K; got a free tech t-shirt; ate the free bagels, bananas, and coffee; and didn't win the raffle. 6.21 miles in 58:19.

Shhhhhhh!

2009-10-13T21:14:00.002-06:00

Don't tell my IT band, but it might be healed! I ran 6mi easy on Saturday and Sunday whilst scouting and then setting my Hash. Saturday my IT band bothered me and was miserable that evening. Sunday it gave little more than a moan and today it 'twas no trouble at all. So now I will register for the 10K and the half marathon I keep threatening to run before the year is out!

other's realities

2009-10-11T21:56:00.002-06:00

So often I get caught up in my own world that I forget that there are other folks' versions of reality playing out every second of every day - 24/7/365. Today I experienced an almost surreal reminder of the existence of other's realities during the Hash.

I spent two hours throwing blue flour on the ground, aka 'setting trail', for my fellow Hashers to follow. I was not excited at the prospect of revisiting the trail for a third time in two days (having scouted the trail Saturday and set the trail Sunday) in order to run the trail. But I didn't have to. It wasn't my trail to run; it had been my trail to set.

So, while 16 people puzzled their way through my blue flour markings (some following the markings more accurately than others), I drove around in my car in order to arrive at designated points before them with the all-important beer.

They were cold; I was warm. They were on foot; I had my foot on the gas pedal. They didn't know where they were going; I had a pretty good map in my mind's eye of their trajectory (except for the ones that got 'lost'). We were occupying the same moments in time in completely different ways.

I particularly enjoy thinking about this concept of other's realities with a larger focus, as summarized by this quote:

The world in which you were born is just one model of reality.
Other cultures are not failed attempts at being you; they are unique manifestations of the human spirit.
- Wade Davis*, anthropologist

He has an interesting TED talk that can be found here.

Breaking out of the routine

2009-10-06T20:56:00.003-06:00

I am a creature of habit, but I know this and that is a powerful tool against it. So, because I started anticipating the mental acrobatics that breaking out of my routine of unemployment would require, one would think that the transition would be going smoothly. And it is.

Wrapping my head around losing a big chunk of my 'free' time was top on the list. Indeed, I have a sense of loss of my 'free' time, but I think now that I have less of it I am better able to hone in on what I really want to be doing as opposed to doing everything because I had the time and boredom to do so.

Next was cranki- and sleepiness from getting up at 6:30am. Yep. I'm tired although not cranky (aiming for a good impression y'know).

Strangely unanticipated was the retooling of my eating schedule. Where I had the unemployed eating under control - every three hours nearly like clock-work - I'm hungry nearly constantly now. Hopefully this is due to my brain's needing additional fuel to process the policy and procedure manuals I've been reading; the computer system I've been mucking with; and the navigation skills I've had to learn in order to get from my cubicle to my exam room.

So, as excited as I was to break out of my unemployed routine, to start this job, grow my professional career, and get out of the house, I'm also looking forward to having a routine again so I can stop eating.

Just a little neglectful

2009-10-03T23:57:00.004-06:00

I have no excuse for not writing an update; I just haven't. Here is a nitty-gritty update on life since 9/17 (the date of my last post):

1) NEW JOB!
Working for the Jefferson County (Jeff Co) Public Health Department in the reproductive health department performing "Adult Health, Cancer Screening, Family Planning & Reproductive Health, Birth Control, HIV Counseling & Testing, Sexually Transmitted Disease Testing & Treatment". Nearly my dream job. So excited. I start 10/5 and aim to have a long, professionally rewarding career there.

2) IT band syndrome
Increased my running mileage too quickly (I guess... that is one of the common causes of IT band syndrome) and aggravated my iliotibial band, which runs from the outside portion of the hip to the outside of the knee. This means much pain when I run 'too far', which my body presently considers 6mi. Went on a hike with Julie and her/our friend Jen in Rocky Mountain National Park today and the activity helped stretch the offending tendon. I'm hoping to run <6mi tomorrow without pain.

3) Humboldt Street gardening complete
After installing a recycled plastic/recycled wood composite edging on the sidewalk gardens in front of my apartment, I have decided my gardening on Humboldt Street is complete. It's too late in the season to plant more (despite the building manager's request) and, due to starting at Jeff Co on Monday, I shall have less time to devote to agricultural pursuits. Photos to follow. Note: I am well aware that this does not mean I am done being Julie's garden bitch.

4) New bicycle
Well, it's an old bicycle that's new to me. The cool cruiser I was riding was stolen from the tree in front of my apartment (no trees were harmed in the theft of the bicycle, but the lock will never be the same), which put the kabosh on my two-wheeled transportation.

I have purchased a new set of wheels: a 1970s 10-speed which has been tricked-out with fenders at JD's Cycle Shack and I am thrilled. Well, I would be if the crank shaft of the pedals hadn't lost a nut and then a bolt and become useless. I'll be thrilled once again when I reassemble the crank.

5) JENNIFER 1, PARASITE 0
Still trying to figure out why my belly isn't happy, but the problem is no longer a parasite.

Garden of the Gods

2009-09-17T10:43:00.003-06:00

Had a job interview in Colorado Springs yesterday for an RN position (more on that later). Decided to take advantage of having made the 1.5 hour drive and went running in Garden of the Gods.

The woman at the visitor's center indicated that there is a gravel trail that follows the road 'round the park in addition to a winding network of marked and unmarked trails that meander through the park. I took a map from the visitor's center, which I left in the car.

Started out from the parking lot at 2:45pm. Despite the recent rain, the trail was fairly dry except for the puddles. As one might imagine in a park in the foothills of the Rockies, the trails are rolling with a mix of rocks and gravel scattered amongst the red dirt.

I suffered through the up hills in order to coast down the other side and was feeling pretty good until the new pain in my right hip returned. Pushed through that to get to the southern tip of the park at 3:30pm at which point, I thought, turned around to head north to the car.

Ended up climbing a hill and seeing a deer only to turn around at 4pm in order to head back to the car. Took a wrong turn and ended up at the outer limits of Manitou Springs, CO. Retraced my steps and headed back into the network of trails figuring that I still had time to get back to the parking lot in which I had left my car before the gate is locked at 5pm.

When I exited the park in a residential neighborhood at 5pm with no sense of direction (couldn't see the mountains) and no park map to be found, I knew I was in trouble. Panicked for a moment then flagged down a woman on her way home who explained to me that in the summer she shuttles lost hikers back to their cars frequently. She was very gracious about helping and felt fortunate that this particular lost hiker speaks enough English to coherently explain where her car is.

The parking lot was NOT locked. Relieved and annoyed about the panic the threat caused. Will consult with brownie before running in the Garden again.

2009-09-08T23:09:00.005-06:00

Took this photo of myself when running 'round, up and down Green Mountain of the Green Mountain Open Space in Lakewood. This run reminded me that I need to add more hills to my running. Heck, need to add speed work as well, so maybe I'll get faster. Were I more motivated, I could find a plan and start on it whilst unemployed again...

I was asked to leave my job at the county jail about a month ago, so I am again unemployed and this time struggling with the feelings of inadequacy that come with being asked to leave a job at which one tries their hardest. Because of this, I should have doubled my efforts at securing employment, but am feeling very unmotivated. I've restarted volunteering at Planned Parenthood. Been running. Been dancing. Not much knitting, but it's supposed to be 50F in Denver tomorrow, so maybe curling up with some wool will feel comfortable.

What I learned on my summer vacation

2009-08-15T23:36:00.006-06:00

At the suggestion of Brownie I went wandering about Dinosaur Ridge two weeks ago. I ended up run-walking the 5+ mile loop across Dinosaur Ridge, down into Matthews Winter's Park, past Red Rocks and then back up the Ridge. My lungs took a beating being even further above sea level than in Denver, but it felt good to be trail running at an altitude slightly higher than my norm because in just 3 weeks I'll be going to the InterAMs in Winter Park. The weekend will consist of running trails at a higher altitude than Denver and then drinking. But I digress...

My jaunt up and over Dinosaur Ridge brought me in close proximity to the local avian crowd (photo for Mark's benefit);

much further away by foot from my car without enough snackage than I strictly preferred;

and much closer to the local fault line than I ever though I could get. A fault line. In Colorado! Like _you_ had ever thought of fault lines in Colorado, eh?

Turns out, once upon a time, we also a coast line! There was a river that ran smack through the US during the Paleolithic Era(?) and right past Colorado (though the guide with whom I was talking did know if said river despoited the Sand Dunes in the southwestern corner of the state.). We also had dinosaurs roaming about, though I did not see fit to take photos of their foot prints or bits of skeleton for which Dinosaur Ridge is named.

My guide through this adventure and inspiration for the next, since I didn't make it to Green Mountain on this excursion, was Trailwalker's Guide to the Dinosaur Ridge, Red Rocks and Green Mountain Area by Harald Drewes and John Townrow.

2009-08-15T23:32:00.002-06:00

Perhaps I need to start a lobby to my Congressional representatives to put warnings on plastic bags about their hazardousness to felines? Or maybe just my feline. This is the same creature that stood over a lit candle for longer than he ought to have (in my opinion).

Birthday Bash

2009-08-08T17:40:00.004-06:00

Julie and I spent my birthday together camping and hiking. We passed the night of my birthday in fine style with wine, cupcakes and a gourmet meal cooked on my new MSR Pocketrocket camp stove in the White River National Forest. The following day we hiked to the Conundrum Hot Springs in order to soak our cares away in the hot springs at tree line (about, what? 8,000ft?). It was a great way to spend my 30th birthday. Photos are on Picasa.

Life Maintenance

2009-08-08T17:32:00.002-06:00

I am struggling with living. No, no. Not the actual act of remaining alive; I’m not considering offing myself. I’m struggling with the concept of carrying on a well-lived life, of making the life I am currently living and intend to do so for another 70 years or so more meaningful.

I have previously bored y’all with a discussion of my schedule, but most recently I have been working three to four days in a row. As is my wont, I have a predictable when my workdays fall into this schedule: I work and then spend the next few days catching up on life maintenance.

Life maintenance is a catch-all term for the grocery shopping, dish washing, library going, apartment cleaning, and cat attention paying that must happen after four days of work induced neglect. However, in the past two days I have begun to question the meaningfulness of spending my days off addressing such mundane and menial matters. There isn’t much value in these tasks beyond my own life; does that make doing them unworthwhile?

The answer to that question is no, which I came to whilst run/hiking today. Said tasks are necessary for even the most altruistic of us; without their being accomplished there is no infrastructure from which to base other activities. The key, I discovered today, is to balance the mundane and menial with the exciting and altering to my personal world, if not the world at large.

There is a satisfaction in accomplishing life maintenance activities, but they’re not fulfilling. They need done again and again and again. But going to restorative yoga Friday night, as I did, contributes to positive worldwide karma and leaves me feeling peaceful. And run/hiking the five-mile loop over Dinosaur Ridge, through Matthew/Winter’s Park, and past Red Rocks contributes to my training for a half-marathon and maybe running a relay this fall.

And swimming Monday after work, going to yoga Wednesday night, and tending Julie’s garden in her absence will help to off-set the annoyance I feel at the five loads of laundry that should be able to wash themselves. I hope.

Pringles

2009-07-26T19:00:00.004-06:00

Little did I know at the time, busy as I was preparing to go to New Jersey on a flight courtesy of Snowball, but I lost access to the internet connection which I was legitimately using (as opposed to the one I'm now pirating from the deli across the street).

See, I and a few other folks in my building were paying the building manager to maintain an internet connection through Comcast and a wireless network out of her apartment. Comcast came to fix something, but broke the wireless network in the process. Kathy couldn't figure out how to fix it and decided that she has neither the time nor the inclination to continue to maintain the wireless network for the rest of us.

I and another woman were going to go it alone, but she decided she could do without internet at home (the horror!).

I am left either getting a connection of my own (seems silly since there are at least ten network on which my computer picks up) or continuing to pirate the connection of the deli across the street. If I choose the latter, I need to invest in some sort of antennae, as my dear computer, which I just realized is nameless, has an antennae about as useful as... as something that's not useful hardly at all. Presently, I use myself as the antennae, but considering that I haven't decided if I want children in the future, having such radio waves or nuclear energy or whathaveyou coursing through my body is probably not a good idea.

Rob's answer to my dilemma is a Pringles antennae (actually it was a new computer, but I'll choose to ignore that suggestion). Such a device is easily assembled from directions off the interweb with parts that seem readily available... to a roadside bomber. Where does a white, middle class female get an N-connector, a drill, and the know-how to figure the 'back of the can to the drill-point' drill distance? Argh. Isn't there someway to do this with knitting needles, the cat, and a beer bottle?

Schedule

2009-06-22T23:35:00.002-06:00

I, like many people, enjoy having a regular schedule. I sleep well; I eat predictably; I can plan social activities. But my schedule since starting work at the jail in March has been anything but regular given the way I was hired (by choice): I fill in when I'm needed.

What follows is my schedule for the past week, which is self-explanatory for my MIAness...
Wednesday - Tuesday OFF
Meant to go to California to see my seester, bro-in-law and nephews but just didn't get there; theoretically I was out and about in Denver though. What did I do? Had a great bike ride on the Platte River Trail where I took photos with my manual SLR. Note to self: need to get those photos developed. Talked to Greg's mortgage broker; we determined I need a permanent job in order to get a mortgage. Finished a painful, difficult knitting project. Started Julie's overdue birthday present. Napped with the cat.

Wednesday 1930 - 0530 (actually left at 0600)
Went ok although I was tired Thursday morning since it is not possible to get enough sleep the day before an overnight shift.

Thursday 1930 - 0530 (actually left at 0630)
Still tired in the morning, but a breakfast burrito keeps me awake during the 30 minute drive home. Beautiful sunrise.

Friday 1930 - 0530 (actually left at 0615)
Slept until 1630 and then futzed around on Facebook until I was almost late to work. Oops. But that's the most I've ever slept directly following an overnight; my body might just be getting the hang of this schedule.

Saturday 1930 - Sunday 0530 (actually left at 0545)
Again slept for 8 hours the following morning; not such a good thing this time since I need to go to bed at, oh, 2000 in order to get 'enough' sleep to get up at 0330 Monday morning to work the 0500 - 1500 shift. Did go hang out with Julie's friends by the pool in southeast Denver.

Monday 0500 - 1500 (actually left at 1630)
Got home and slept for 4 hours. Woke up at 2000 very disoriented, particularly since the days are so long right now (not complaining, just sayin'). Still awake at 2300, despite great tiredness, because I'm working...

Tuesday 1930 - Wednesday 0530
Tired goes without saying.

Wednesday 1930 - Thursday 0530
Must sleep when I get home, but not too long otherwise I won't be able to sleep Thursday night in anticipation for the chiropractor and then driving to the Sand Dunes Friday. Argh. Pretty much a waste of a day.

July's not looking much better, but I'm hoping to have a different gig entirely come August. Send employing thoughts my way, eh?

Medicinal traitor

2009-06-22T23:03:00.004-06:00

Friday I went to a -- gasp! -- chiropractor. I gasp because I think it ironic that I have sought the advice of an nontraditional medicine practitioner given my profession. Why a chiropractor?

1) My friend K.A. had good things to say about hers (in fact, it was he I went to see Friday).
2) For at least one of my problems, the stomach issues, I had already seen two medical doctors about it before I left Boston and they had ruled out some causes of the troubles, but clearly did not solve the problem.
3) I wanted to try a different approach to my health care. And that's what I've gotten.

The doctor believes, based on my curling into fetal position when he poked at my belly, that I have a lingering parasite in my gut. So, I'm taking Candi-Bactin-BR (the herb berberine) and will add proboulardi (probiotics) on Friday when I return for a follow-up visit. So far I've not experienced many of the side effects about which I was warned, which I think is the best outcome in this situation. After all, I am killing a colony of creatures that took up residence in my gut about a year ago.

My other focus for this treatment is the pain I'm having in my right hip flexor. I was snap, crackle, and popped by the doctor on Friday and, while the pinching in my right shoulder has resolved, the hip flexor pain is the same; nearly normal for day-to-day function, but twinging by the end of my four nights of work. I'm chalking it up to a work in progress, although I may try a short run this week if I can get out of bed early enough before work.

If there is a negative side to all of this it is that I've been advised not to drink beer because 1) the parasites feed off of the sugars and 2) it's difficult to digest for a 100% health gut nevermind my traumatized system. As if the six-pack in my fridge weren't temptation enough, I'm going to a Hash campout at the Sand Dunes this weekend. I almost delayed treatment, but decided I'd had enough of my compromised GI tract. Besides, as Julie pointed out, the doctor only advised against beer; he didn't say anything about other types of liquor!

Once upon a sweater

2009-06-14T16:37:00.004-06:00

Once upon a time, in a land 1500 miles from this one, Jennifer started knitting a tank top. The year was 2004 and it was Springtime. A time of exuberance for cotton knitwear. A time of enthusiasm for garments with holes made according to pattern. A time of duhn, duhn, duuuuuhn lace.

There were good times and there were bad times. There were times of success and times of ignoring the project hoping it would unravel itself. There were times of moving (to Colorado to Massachusetts to Pennsylvania to Massachusetts to Nepal to Massachusetts to Colorado), yet still no wearable garment sprung forth from our heroine's efforts. And then, one unseasonably cloudy day five years and 1500 miles from its inception...

emerged the tank top from our heroine's weary, blistered fingers. Success! And reinforcement of the need to boycott the creating of lace garments.

Better than TV

2009-06-13T00:40:00.003-06:00

I have two channels on my LifeTV: the cat channel and the Colfax channel. Yesterday, on the Colfax channel, was the following image:

Yes, that is a squirrel sitting on the basket attachment of my bicycle. Heehee.

Maybe med school

2009-06-05T19:46:00.002-06:00

The murder of Dr. Tiller on Sunday got me thinking about my career's trajectory. I set out in a career in nursing in 2004 in order to work against Bush Jr.'s restrictive policies on abortion; I decided to train in the very information and procedures he was aiming to restrict. I could be the safe "back alley" abortionist should it come to that.

Fast forward to June 5... I work in county jail as a registered nurse: the only job I could get in a state overrun with mid level providers with more experience than I. Said state also has laws that restrict the performance of medical and surgical abortions to physicians, which means that, were I to get a job as a nurse practitioner, it would not be in an abortion clinic as I had originally envisioned.

By becoming a physician, I would no longer have to fight for the career I want because physicians are licensed to do everything. They are also better trained for their jobs and their role is better understood in the health care world. Maybe it is time to stop trying to have the career I want the hard way and go study for the lifetime pass to the field about which I feel most passionate.

The Sisyphysian Life

2009-06-05T19:40:00.004-06:00

We all know people for whom life seems out to get -- the paycheck doesn't get deposited, they start jobs that end before they can blink, the medication refill gets hung up in the pharmacy, they land in jail minutes before an important doctor's appointment. It is for these folks that I provide nursing at the county jail. And it's exhausting.

Warranted but harsh criticism

2009-05-31T21:49:00.004-06:00

I am usually unsuccessful at tuning out ambient noise, other people's conversations and the like, which is how I've gotten myself into trouble several times, most recently at work.

I walked into the nurses' station and a conversation between two nurses, "What is the Twin RX?" "It's a treatment." "For what?" "Hepatitis." *TV 'wrong' noise here*

There is no treatment for hepatitis. The Twin Rx is a vaccine (preventative measure) against hepatitis A and B. It was with this information that I interjected into the conversation.

And the nurse handing out the wrong information says, "You know what the problem is here, the problem is that I wasn't talking to you. If I was talking to you, I could understand why you're confused, but I wasn't talking to you. B understands me, don't you? [B nods]. So that's the problem here."

Oh smack.

He was really harsh, which stung, but what bothered me more was the criticism; I hate being called out on my weaknesses. (Funny, who does?) In his defense, it must get old having someone correct you, as I have done so before. Then again, it gets old having to fix someone's errors from erroneous information, too.

30

2009-05-20T14:06:00.003-06:00

This is my year 30th year on the planet as Jennifer. Well, it will be in a little over two months, but I'm getting a head start on my project for this, my Year of 30. The project is hiking by myself (someone go resuscitate my mother, please). Yes, hiking by myself.

This idea stemmed from a conversation with my friend David about his hiking alone. He does it all the time! But he's a boy.

Perhaps it's a function of being a girl or growing up in suburbia in the 80s. I dunno. But I was raised (splendidly, capably, but with a little bit of fear) to always have a buddy when leaving the house. Perhaps the 'always' is an exaggeration, but it certainly seems like that is the ideal. In light of not having a conjoined twin, I have interpreted 'always have a buddy' to 'have a buddy when one leaves the confines of civilization, such as when hiking, backpacking, snowshoeing, etc.'. But Year of 30 is the time to change that.

I shall tell someone where I'm going and shall bring my cell phone, but damnit, I'm going it alone. The following photos are from my solo adventures undertaken in early celebration of my Year of 30.

The view from one of many lookout spot along the Red Rocks Trail in Matthews Winters Park.

The Speer Blvd. bridge as seen looking west from Confluence Park. Though not outside civilization, it is my favorite city spot, which I visited this week, so it is included.

Top photo: A crystalis in Matthews Winters Park. I've gotta go back and see the end result!

Evening ride

2009-05-18T14:53:00.002-06:00

Man (walking on sidewalk pushing shopping cart): I didn't know I was on a bike path! I didn't know I was on a f*cking bike path!

Me (riding bike on sidewalk): I didn't know I was in a grocery store.

Man: F*ck you! This is not a bike path!

Me: Not tonight, thanks.

Working Colfax

2009-04-23T00:54:00.007-06:00

I had jokingly threatened to work my corner of Colfax if a nursing job didn't materialize 'soon enough' (whatever that means). Well, I've managed to fulfill both goals (or at least the verbal harassment portion of the latter).

For those not in the know, I am working as a registered nurse in a medium sized correctional facility in a town south of Denver. Thus far I have trained in the infirmary, where prisoners stay if they're detoxing from a substance or just can't live in general population, i.e. the person in a wheelchair, the man who is so sick he's turned a shade of gray, etc. And I have been trained to work in the pods.

A 'pod' is a living quarter of this facility's inmates. There are 6 pods each with 5-6 day rooms with 20-ish sleeping quarters off the day rooms. There is one day room for women, the remainder are for men. Most of the cells don't have doors, but the day rooms are kept closed and locked most of the time with a person in 'the tower' overseeing all of the inmate's activities within the pod.

Each pod has an exam room in which I check blood pressure, give insulin, check wounds and change dressings and give medications. Indeed, many of these skills I learned in nursing school; what requires instructing is the policies and procedures of the jail and what just takes time is getting familiar with the personalities of the inmates. Such as those of the men in 6A.

Six-A is 'the hole' of Pod 6. It consists of a day room off of which there are 7'x7' cells housing one man each that are kept locked 23 hours a day. The men on this unit are half a step away from the bottom of their housing options (the bottom being the behavioral control unit in the infirmary) so they have little to lose, which makes them, uh, perhaps more vocal than their counterparts in other day rooms.

Which translates into my getting catcalled, just like I might working Colfax. For several days running, this little ol' black guy would wait until after I medicated him to make his appreciation of my ass known to every man on the unit, "Look at her. She has a nice ass. And she KNOWS she has a nice ass. Yes, she certainly does know she has a nice ass. So-and-so said she has a nice ass and she knows it and I know it."

So, while being a nurse may be a better regarded and less illegal profession than walking the streets and working the corners, sometimes the atmosphere of the two jobs is the same.

Nearly Virgin Hare

2009-04-12T21:53:00.002-06:00

Despite some controversy as to whether I was a 'virgin' (=new) hare or not, I laid a Hash trail today. The weather did not cooperate; it was overcast with variable amounts of rain. Because I laid trail with flour, I ended up sticky, pasty mess, of which I did not get a photo. Believe you me, it was messy! As with most experiences, I learned from this one.

A) 25lbs of flour is plenty to lay a ~5mi trail.
B) If the trail is well-marked, folks won't balk at its ~5mi length.
C) Try to avoid laying trail so as the hounds stay within site of the start of the Hash.
D) 11 cases of beer is plenty for seven Hashers with some leftover.
E) The public seems less antsy about powdery white substances randomly strewn about, but I think I'll color my flour next time just to be safe (but, no, I didn't see the haz-mat crew. Anyone else? Bueller?)
F) I didn't get snared because the fastest FRB (=front running bastard) wasn't present. In the future, I will prelay the end of my trail, as well as the beginning, as insurance for avoidance of pantsing.
G) I like haring; I'd do it again.

Coming soon to a state near you: The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood

2009-03-26T18:19:00.006-06:00

I just watched a terrifying YouTube video about women who were forced to give birth to children in the way that their respective states saw fit, as opposed to how they (and in some cases, their doctors) saw fit because of 'fetal rights' laws, such as those that Personhood USA is trying to enact all over the US (and successfully did so in North Dakota). I shan't embed the video in this post, since that would muck with folks' ability to load the page, but I shall link to it.

Please, go watch, become outraged, and act on the next women's or fetal rights* campaign that comes to your attention.

*Chances are I would encourage you to act in favor of women's rights and against the fetal rights, but just ask and I'll give you the best answer I know.

Take action!

2009-03-24T22:50:00.002-06:00

In his last days as president, Bush enacted a regulation curtailing patient's access to medical treatment if the provider or pharmacists or secretary of the medical practice disagrees with said medical procedure or medicine or device, etc.. The regulation was billed as a 'conscience clause' to protect providers against being forced to perform abortions -- but a regulation doing just that existed prior to Bush's administration.

As I observe below, the regulation is actually a thinly veiled attempt to limit women's access to contraception. Below is the letter I wrote to Obama, with the help of the website of the National Organization for Women, supporting his rescision of this regulation. Or if you prefer, Planned Parenthood has a page about it, too. No matter how -- go speak your mind!

Dear President Obama,
I strongly support efforts to rescind the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services "provider conscience" regulation (which is in the 'comments' portion of the regulatory process to rescind it, so we need to let Obama know how strongly we support his overturning this regulation).

As a nurse practitioner who closely follows news about reproductive health care access, the aforementioned regulation seems like a thinly veiled attempt to restrict women's access to contraception. This is appalling because, combined with comprehensive sex education, access to
contraception is the best way to reduce unwanted pregnancies, which is a goal no matter what side of the political aisle one sits on.

I urge that the HHS refusal rule be rescinded in its entirety promptly at the end of this comment period. Thank you for the opportunity to speak out.

Sincerely,
Jennifer, NP

Buddhicat

2009-03-16T21:45:00.004-06:00

One of the tenets of Buddhism is non-attachment. To me, this means not relying on anyone or -thing to 'make' one happy; it's finding happiness within one's self while still appreciating the people and creatures in one's life.

Another tenet of Buddhism is reincarnation. This one is huge. The short version is that all sentient beings (roughly bugs to humans on the evolutionary scale) have wants and desires that cause us suffering when they're not met (which is a lot of the time). So, those who practice Buddhism meditate, do good deeds, treat others as we'd like to be treated, etc. so that, ideally, we reach enlightenment (freedom from suffering) in our current life. Given how little I've been meditating, my reaching enlightenment seems unlikely, but perhaps the attitude with which I regard the cat will help the process.

Some regard the relationship of cat to human to be that of pet to owner, but I find that set-up to imply attachment of the human to the animal. So I am turning the dynamic 'round. I am regarding Max the Cat as a sentient being who needs care during his current life as a cat until he can be reincarnated on his next spin through the cycle of rebirth.

Between the waking me up in the middle of the night and howling at everyone who walks by the apartment (we live at the front of the building, so that's pretty much everyone) he is pushing the limits of good karma, but I've still got my sights set on his becoming a human next time.

Character: a meta-analysis

2009-03-09T23:31:00.010-06:00

In a book on how to do a myriad things well (the title of which I will remember the moment after this post goes live), there is a chapter on how to discern a person's character. The first step is to figure out what character means to you.

After thinking on it for a week, I decided that interweb research was in order. One of the definitions that helped me get thinking on the subject is: "The combination of qualities or features that distinguishes one person, group, or thing from another." Note 1: I've discovered that some define personality with the same terms hence this discussion will address both. Note 2: These qualities or features are addressed in dichotomy with the realization that very little is black and white. What follows is a list of qualities or features of character that come to mind quickly:

Honest/dishonest; ungracious/gracious; prompt/tardy; passionate/apathetic; engaged/distanced; altruistic/selfish; patient/impatient; laid-back/anxious; sympathetic/callous; logical/emotional; empathetic/self-centered; corrupt/honorable, pure; adventurous/cautious; liberal/conservative (although this dichotomy leaves room for many many incorrect conclusions as to someone's character); forthright/deceitful; forward/reticent; sexual/repressed...

But how do you discern a person's character? Perhaps I'm jaded, but it seems particularly easy with, for instance online dating, to misrepresent oneself. Have I found this to be true in reality? No. But the better question is, have I been paying attention?

A straight forward character trait to evaluate is "outdoorsy." It seems every man on Match who lives in Colorado says he loves the outdoors. I've found, with one clear exception, most of the men I've met are outdoorsy at least in the way that I am; they participate in weekend outdoor adventures year-round. But what about the less obvious characteristics -- qualities such as empathy, callousness, altruism, and deceitfulness? Beyond what is said in the profile, how does one get a sense of such things in a first, second, or even third meeting?

Perhaps evaluating a person's more obscure personality traits needs to be like doing online research. I start with the person as the topic and check the dating site for a basic idea about him, links to additional sources (rarely), and a jumping off point for formulating additional questions. Then exchanging emails helps to flush out some of the questions brought to mind by the profile. Finally, meeting in person can confirm or refute some opinions formed during the computer research phase. And, provides information about interpersonal chemistry that cannot be evaluated electronically. Now to figure out which characteristics are deal-breakers... *sigh* the quest for good relationships is never-ending.

"Character is like a tree and reputation like its shadow. The shadow is what we think of it; the tree is the real thing." - Abraham Lincoln

I. Am. Not. New.

2009-03-01T18:32:00.012-07:00

I have been job hunting for a year and, as the process drags on, what I hear with more and more frequency is that I'm a 'new grad' and managers want to hire employees with experience. So I am writing this piece as an ode to all that is not new about me as an ego boost in otherwise ego deflating times.

I am not new at job hunting; I've been doing that for a year plus. Nor am I new at doing female annual exams; I did 250 of those in the five months I spent in prison filling in for the permanent employee. I am not new at nursing in odd situations; I've worked at a clinic in Nepal, state prison, as a traveling camp nurse in hotel rooms all along the eastern seaboard and given flu shots in most of the conference rooms in downtown Denver.

I am not new to compassion, which lies at the heart of nursing; I have it in droves. I cried when I put away my Cabbage Patch kids because I was afraid they'd suffocate in the plastic bag in the attic. I pity my cat for being stuck inside all day because he seems bored (although he'd seem dead were he to run around Colfax during rush hour). I nearly faint when I watch someone get local anesthesia because I know that the anesthesia shot is the worst part and I hate that s/he is suffering through it.

Finally, I am not new at identifying my strengths and weaknesses. I am not new to creating strengths from weaknesses. I am not new at accepting criticism, constructive and otherwise, about my weaknesses. I am not new at accepting praise for my strengths, although that doesn't translate into my doing so well.

I. Am. Not. New. Now hire me, please!

18 and counting

2009-02-18T00:03:00.014-07:00

Since defecting to Colorado in August I have been on 18 first dates. I have had coffee and conversation with dancers and teachers, doctors and baristas, computer geeks and office assistants. This experience has led to a better understanding of what I am seeking in a partner; knowing that I am able to thrive outside of a relationship but also that there is a particular strength and energy to be had from within a romantic relationship; and the growing realization that finding someone that suits me is no small feat.

On the seven hour car ride to the Durango Snowdown Hash in Durango, CO, Cum Scout, a fellow Denver hasher, and I spent the early hours of the trip wrestling with the topic of interpersonal relationships. I told him the story of my 18 first dates. He told me a story about a roommate who still talks about a relationship that ended five years back. Cum Scout and I agree that five years is too long to dwell on a former relationship; we refrained from judging the 18 dates. What ultimately came out of this conversation is a theory of dating that we've decided is the only way to go.

From knowing that the population of the Earth is 6.5 million people, we surmised that there are 3.25 million men and 3.25 million women. Subtract approximately 65,000 exclusively homosexual people from the total (seems like a small number to me, but that's another post), and there are 3.24 million men chasing after 3.24 million women. And then subtract those who are married, celibate by choice, too young or too old, live on the wrong side of the world, aren't dating, etc. ...

The millions that are datable can be divided up by having the individuals take the Keirsey Temperament Sorter type. Everyone falls into predominantly one personality category; so by using straight-up division (as opposed to statistical analysis which would be more accurate but more difficult) we determined that there are 20,250,000 people of each type of personality roaming the Earth. Subtract from that number the aforementioned non-datable folks, figure out your personality type and the type of personality with whom you are most compatible, and voila! Your dating pool.

So, I just need to find all of the available, English-speaking, Denver-dwelling ESFJs and date 'em one by one until I find one that suits me well. Brilliant, eh? I thought so. Now I'm off to this site to put my money where my mouth is.

Love song to Mount Elbert

2009-02-15T17:17:00.014-07:00

I can't remember the last time I felt ill (and exhilarated and cleansed by) physical exertion, but as of Saturday my memory has been refreshed. The adventure began Friday night when I met Truman, Paul and Kevin in Golden from whence we headed to Jeremy's place in Silverthorne: the jumping off point for our winter ascent of Mount Elbert.

After collectively sleeping poorly, we headed out at 5:19am through the 19F air. One of the guys commented that we were one minute past our departure time for every degree above zero on the thermometer. Truman lamented our not running 40 minutes late. Indeed.

We left the parking lot at 7am to hike to the trail head. Two miles and a few layers later, we strapped on snowshoes and hit the trail. All was well until Kevin, who was breaking trail, stopped in a grove of Aspen trees and suggested that we were no longer on trail. The four guys put their heads together as I, admitting my propensity for getting lost, remained silent until spoken to.

(It was a few hours later that Truman also admitted his propensity for getting lost. Whether in denial about following into the wilderness in the snow one who so easily goes astray [me] or understanding his propensity for modesty [Kevin, Jeremy and Paul?], the lot of us ignored Truman's declaration and the guys continued to include him in the route planning. Given that we lived through the experience, following the directions of the self-professed directionally challenged one wasn't a bad decision, but one might question doing so again.)

My favorite part of the trip, as gauged by how much I laughed, was the, as Truman phrased it, impromptu luge we created down the slope of the Ridge-to-the-north-of-Elbert-we-think. If only there had a been a video camera at the bottom... I haven't laughed so hard in ages. It felt really good.

Considering the tacitly agreed upon aim of the outing -- to summit the mountain -- one might consider it a failure. Fortunately we (I say 'we' because I've already read Truman's account of the experience) had subgoals that were met. I aimed to snowshoe (check), enjoy myself (check) and meet cute, available boys (notice the lack of 'check'). Two outta three, and surviving a trip that made me physically ill, ain't bad.

Photo: Aspen trees with what is probably not Mount Elbert in the background. Sadly, I did not follow through on my instinct to charge the camera battery before leaving Friday, thus you're looking at one of three photos I took on this trip. The other two are here. But here are Truman's photos which do an excellent job of capturing the 'je ne sais quoi' of the trip. Although he did (mercifully) leave this one off...

Buddhism vs. Hashing, Round 1

2009-02-07T21:25:00.013-07:00

It started with the meditation, 'Worldly Concerns', led by Ani Karin on the CD of 'The Complete Lam Rim with The Foundation of All Good Qualities by Lama Tsong Khapa'. Wait. Actually, no. It started with my complaining to Julie about pain in my left foot, which she diagnosed as a stress fracture and prescribed rest (i.e. not running). Thus, I was searching for a way to manage the stress I typically release while running, which led me to the meditation practice I had all but abandoned upon leaving the Kopan Monastery in early May.

Despite my good intentions, the voice inside my head interrupted by a) taking on my mother's voice and warning me to be careful with lit candles (particularly with a cat around) b) pointing out that the living room of my apartment, which is 50 feet off of Colfax, is not an ideal place to get one's meditation groove on c) emphasizing that that I miss meditating with its sighs of relief and d) taunting me with my fear that Hashing and Buddhism are incompatible. And you, knowing little to nothing about both Hashing and meditation, say, "No kidding!' I coulda told you that!" But please, hold your comments until I've had a chance to explain myself.

First there's a schedule conflict; I often miss the Sunday evening meditation group at First Unitarian Denver because I'm at a post-Hash gathering. Yes, there is Hashing on Saturday. No, I don't attend because it's either in Fort Collins or Colorado Springs (=1+ hours' drive). Driving such distance in order to participate in an activity which I could start on my front stoop is, as much as I love running and Hashers, a poor use of gas in these economically and environmentally challenged times. So Hashing is geographically limited to metro Denver, which limits us to Sundays.

The next difficulty is a difference in philosophy. Hashing in metro Denver is first and foremost about drinking beer. Whereas the fifth precept of a Buddhist lay-person is to refrain from use of intoxicants which lead to loss of mindfulness (i.e. beer). You see the obvious conflict, yes?

Finally, and the kicker for me, Hash banter is typically much coarser than that in which I usually participate. Perhaps it's a safe, healthy outlet for frustration. Or perhaps I'm wracking up negative karma that's going to bite me in the butt in a future life. At this point, I am a two-faced Buddhist, but the alternative is to be a prissy Hasher. Or compromise by being mediocre at both. Where is my priority; to excel at being Buddhist or at Hashing? *gulp* Just by typing those words, I will be made to drink at the next Hash! And have violated Buddhism's 'middle way'. Gah! What to do?

Perhaps I'll start with some meditation...

Photos -- Top: The scenery on the snow shoe Hash in which I participated at the Durango Snowdown 1/20-2/1; notice the derth of snow. Middle: Snowshoe Hash on-out. Bottom: Snowshoe Hash beer check.

Love, how do I express thee?

2009-01-25T22:27:00.003-07:00

My mom likes to tell me that some people talk about their love and others show their love. I agree with her and I believe it is more likely that a ‘show’ of love is more often forgotten than a ‘talk’ of love. So I thought to put together a photo and text representation of a lifetime of ‘show’ of love.

My dad’s parents are of the ilk that predominantly ‘do’ rather than ‘say’. For instance, I arrived in Montvale at 9:16pm -- fifteen minutes past my grandparents’ bedtime. Despite the late hour, Grandpa picked me up at the train station and Grandma greeted me in the kitchen by asking ‘are you hungry?’ and subsequently feeding me. In addition to the niceties extended to me, I was intimately involved with evidence that grandpa has been quietly 'showing' us his love for years.

The most obvious example is the bedroom in which I sleep while visiting; he, my mother reminded me, expanded his young family’s house to better accommodate his wife and three growing children. As the photos show, the addition included a laundry chute, built-in bookcases, special doorknob holder on-ers (actual purpose unknown), and, years later, a built-in air conditioner.

You'll have to take my word for it that he also made things a bit less crowded at a certain Bethlehem stable by extending the ground floor; keeps he and Gram’s myriad pill bottles organized in a wood box; and supports good oral health with a custom tooth brush shelf in the ground floor bath.

So, when I told my grandpa ‘I love you and Grandma’ when he and I parted at the train station at 4am in the morning, I was not surprised when he said ‘oh, that’s nice.’ But I know the truth; it surrounds me every time I cross their threshold.

Coloradoan in New York

2009-01-03T18:47:00.025-07:00

I spent the week straddling Christmas in New Jersey visiting my extended family; I saw 'em all. Even with all that visiting, this trip was a little different; I took some time for myself and went into New York City (for all of the years I've been going to New Jersey, I've been to NYC four times, and three of those times had nothing to do with family!)

Despite the odds stacked against us, and with the help of mobile phone technology, my cousin Mark and I met outside the Borders 'round the corner from Penn Station. As I started discuss the day's itinerary, he whipped out a small map book and I thought, I'm all set, he knows what he's doing (foreshadowing, dear reader, foreshadowing). First stop: Rockefeller Center.

We decide to walk from Penn Station (near abouts 7th St.) to Rockefeller Center at 50-something street -- about 2.5 miles. What would normally take 'not so much time' took 'lots of time' thanks to the myriad people between us and our destination. If I was to reframe this experience (as Foster and Hicks suggest in their book, How we choose to be happy: the 9 choices of extremely happy people), the walk provided opportunity for extensive agility training with complementary personal defense instruction.

As is fitting when one is near it, we gawked at the Rockefeller Center tree; whispered our amazement inside St. Patrick's Cathedral; and attempted to peruse Macy's store windows, but gave up (masses of people + hungry Jen = no Macy's windows). For lunch, I decided we'd go to Greenwich Village since I'd never been. Easy, right? Just hop on the subway and head...

Uptown. Turns out my confidence in Mark's navigational ability was a bit overblown; he had correctly navigated us to the subway, but to the uptown instead of downtown platform. We managed the subway direction mix-up, and the subsequent walking direction mix-up, reasonably despite our hunger and got to Corner Bistro for great beer and l'inner (lunch + dinner).

From there, we wandered for an hour in search of a subway station. In our travels we found Central Park, squirrels, and a tourist taking pictures of squirrels. Of all the interesting things the city provides for photographic exercise! Squirrels! Ridiculous.

Arrived at the Mahayana Buddhist Temple in Chinatown just as the temple was closing, although the staff graciously allowed us to wander about the gift shop. Turns out this temple abuts the fly-by-night operation (it's actually a well-established company, but after one of the buses caught on fire on the interstate it lost esteem in my mind, which is reflected in my careful wording) of the Fung Wah bus company, which I had had the pleasure of riding from Boston to New York and back for one of the aforementioned non-familial excursions. Good memories.

From takeoff to landing and back again, the entire trip east was a personal public transportation navigation feat. I flew into JFK, which meant I had to take four trains operated by three different transportation authorities to get to my grandparent's abode (handicapped by leaving my detailed transportation information in Denver). Add to the list figuring out the Metropolitan Transit Authority subway system, and I'm darn impressive. Then again, navigating an underground train system run by one agency that publishes maps and schedules is considerably easier than navigating a piecemeal ground transportation system in a country where one neither speaks nor reads the language and there are no signs marking the bus stops. No wonder the MTA seemed easy this time where it was confounding prior to Nepal.

TSA is here to stay

2008-12-23T21:19:00.002-07:00

DIA was buzzing this morning when I arrived by skyRide at 0930 for my 1140 flight to New York/JFK. Looking down over the security checkpoints, the situation seemed grim; the line of passengers flowed out of the cordoned-off chute and down the hall. On the upper concourse, there was an official-looking woman directing folks to security at the “other end” of the terminal, which, she claimed, was moving faster. I headed in the direction she indicated (east, I think) past families breakfasting, couples kissing long goodbyes, and a woman struggling to corral her two children and football-sized dog.

The forced-voluntary morning constitutional was surprisingly brisk as TSA workers cranked us through the ID check and spit us out in the metal detector line. It was in this line, while removing backpack, jacket, and shoes from my person and laptop and quart-sized bag of liquids and gels from the backpack, that I noticed the advertising lining the trays that cart travelers’ belongings through the x-ray machine. The advertisement in the top tray was for Zappos; I remember thinking, how appropriate, that’s where I’m gonna put my shoes. And also, uh oh, these trays have been pimped out; TSA is here to stay.

Perhaps this was obvious to everyone else, but it hadn’t occurred to me that domestic travel would forever more involve limiting oneself to 3oz of any gel or liquid personal care product and then producing that product for inspection on command. That air travel would always be preceded by partially undressing in front of lines of strangers and doing a catwalk through a metal detector. I thought some day some fearless leader would receive the OK from an all-knowing source, air travel would be declared safe, and air travelers would no longer be subject to the aforementioned pre-flight indignities. But then I saw the advertising in the trays.

In what were once clean public spaces (no, really, let me show you a photo of a main street in Kathmandu) of the US, advertising has been slowly appearing. Bus shelters, public restroom stalls, most means of public transit, and even the backs of grocery store receipts now sport advertising. These institutions have been around for my entire memory; if these pillars of day-to-day life are worthy of sporting brands, what does it mean that the (relatively) new TSA trays are also worthy of touting commercialism?

It means that my dreams of a future of flying a domestic route security-free have been dashed, smashed, and smithereened into advertising oblivion. These trays, embodying the dangers of North American airspace post-9/11, have been quietly incorporated into society in the same manner of such long-lived and upstanding institutions as grocery receipts, bus shelters, and public toileting facilities! These trays have been slathered in commercialism in half the time it took more ubiquitous institutions to become slathered.* Why were they so readily assimilated? Is it heightened awareness due to proliferation of The Container Store that made them seem innocuous? Is it American's ongoing fascination with closet organization systems? Or ramped up promotion of the ultimate organization system – the alphabet?

It will take a team of social scientists years to parse out this cause and effect relationship. Meanwhile, formerly pristine public spaces will fall to media advertising everything from airlines to Zappos. And whom do we have to thank for this? This is another of society’s ills that can be attributed to al-Qaida and Osama bin Laden. Damn them.

*I have no evidence for this except memory, which can be questionably reliable.

What's quickly becoming my annual holiday newsletter

2008-12-21T13:13:00.002-07:00

Below is the text of my holiday newsletter; I have mailed it to some, but I can't get cards out to all y'all, so those of you who are web-savvy are just going to have to make do without a pretty missive from me in your mailbox. If you're really good, maybe you'll be on my mailing list next year ;)

December 2008

Hello hello!
Last y’all knew I was on my way to Nepal. Well, I successfully navigated the other side of the world and am back to tell the tale; I met good people, started running with the Kathmandu Hash House Harriers (a drinking group with a running problem), and have a confirmed case of the travel bug. Alas, I have been very busy searching for a job, volunteering, and moving so there hasn’t been time to plan my next international adventure: I’m aiming for Ethiopia during Lent, as that’s when folks abstain from meat in an otherwise carnivorous society.

Meanwhile, I (finally!) moved to Denver in August. I have settled into a one-bedroom place in a 16-apartment building just off of the notorious Colfax Ave; I live on a good strip of the road, though across the street from a bar with poor taste in music. I don’t know any of my neighbors, but have connected with lots of new folks through running. I swing dance ‘bout twice a week and have renewed old friendships and forged new ones in the dance community. And at least once a week I plant myself on Julie’s couch to knit and get my TV fix (I don’t own one).

While looking for work I have been donating my time to the Grant Avenue Street Reach Soup Kitchen, where I bus tables and make coffee, and Planned Parenthood of the Rocky Mountains. The work at PPRM is particularly challenging, as I must draw boundaries between being trained an NP and working as a volunteer, but I love talking about reproductive health and feeling efficacious and appreciated has done wonders for my morale.

Speaking of morale, being an unemployed nurse practitioner that loves her work is frustrating; there’s no one to help! I have had six interviews in the past five months but am still seeking the right job for me. I think I am getting closer; Thursday I was told that my professional goals are a good fit for the position for which I was interviewing. Cross your fingers for me, eh?

(You know this part...) For news on a more regular basis, with witty commentary to boot, check out my blog at www.tallpalegrrl.blogspot.com

Be safe and healthy!

Love, Jennifer

My (current) knitting nemesis

2008-12-16T14:01:00.004-07:00

Have I introduced you to my most recent nemesis?

It's the Starsky sweater pattern from Knitty.com. I love Knitty, but... Well, this pattern marks the first time I have ever... ...ever? Ok; not ever. It happened once before and that project is still unfinished (for the knitting record, my only unfinished project). This pattern marks the second time I have put a project aside. Granted, I put the left front aside in order to start the right front section, but giving up is not my style. I'm a perfectionistic follow-througher. So, what is it about this sweater that led to such a dramatic change in knitting philosophy? The cables.

I love cables. They add texture to a knitted garment. They're easy to put in. They look great. However, this is not a cable pattern I have encountered before or will attempt again. These aren't strict cables. The "cabled" stitches form a vine pattern from both the front and the back; the pattern repeats over 12 rows. Clearly you can envision that this pattern is not as predictable as plain cables. To complicate matters, the pattern calls for decreasing stitches to shape the sweater meanwhile maintaining the vine pattern. This is mucho complicado. (The arms are pictured at left; they don't have any pattern on 'em. They were a breeze!)

Working this pattern (the part shown in the photo to the left in particular) requires an attention span I don't possess combined with an attention to detail I lack whilst doing multiple things at once (I have been watching the TV show Heroes while knitting this garment). An indication of true tragedy, both the TV show watching and the knitting have suffered.

Trouble started when the two characters who speak mostlyJapanese were introduced. The producers were kind to us ethnocentric Americans and subtitled the Japanese dialogue. However, I can't work the cable pattern without watching the stitches nor can I read the subtitles without having my eyes on the screen. I am going to come out of this experience knowing only half the plot of Heroes with a sweater that has mismatched bits. The mismatched bits sweater (a.k.a. Dollar and a Half Cardigan by Veronik Avery, Interweave Knits, Spring 07) was going to be the next project! What happened here?

In fact, this whole mess started with the uncooperativeness of the mismatched sweater. I had started the mismatched sweater using the very same wool yarn that is now the Starsky sweater, but it was not turning out properly. So, I went on a hunt for yarn appropriate for the mismatched sweater pattern, found it (Butterfly mercerized cotton in a sage green), and was all excited to get going on mismatched sweater when Julie gave me the Starsky pattern (damn her!). I was so hell-bent on using the wool yarn that I started right in on the new pattern without a second thought to my new, beautiful green cotton yarn and formerly coveted mismatched sweater pattern.

So here I am, struggling through the Starsky sweater out of principle and no longer out of desire to finish the sweater. The lovely green cotton yarn beckons to me from the knitting basket aside the couch. And the hand knit Christmas presents (the ideas for which were born of my last blog post) remain concepts of my imagination.

P.S. - Photos of the completed sweater to follow someday. The photos above depict the pieces drying having been rinsed in cold water and then pinned to the towels to work out the curled edges to make sewing up easier.

Season Snippets

2008-12-15T23:56:00.002-07:00

Although my belief in the religious origins of Christmas have drastically changed since last year, I have not abandoned the spirit of the season (which, I could argue, I have been living for at least the past year, but that's another post). As the following examples illustrate, I am playing nicely with society.

Never mind that Christmas is two-plus weeks away, today at the soup kitchen I responded in kind when one of the men wished me a Merry Christmas. Easier to go with the flow than to debate it. And, I am grateful he didn't start Merry Christmas-ing me before Thanksgiving in the fashion of the major retail establishments.

Last weekend I accompanied a friend in decorating and eating sugar cookies and choosing and carrying her Christmas tree home. She was hell-bent on getting a 4-footer, but when she realized that the trees meeting her height requirement were mostly trunk, she decided in favor of a 'Charlie Brown' tree from a local store. When I left Saturday night, its branches were still raised to the ceiling thereby completely inhibiting the decorating process. Hopefully it's relaxed a bit and can be properly trimmed this week.

The most telling example of my espousing the Christmas spirit, at least according to retail America, is that I am on the verge of succumbing to the pressure to give gifts. Granted they must be of the free variety, but that's where we start counting the thoughts rather than the cash value. I have a few ideas -- no I can't disclose what they are 'cause the recipients might just read this blog -- but I am excited to have a contribution to the pile under the tree.

Finally, in the most oxymoronic gesture of the season, I expressed some holiday cheer by Hashing. This is ironic because the Hash is not known for invoking warm, fuzzy feelings. These are groups of people who assign nicknames based on embaressing personal traits, blunders that happen on trail, or just out of spite. The hares purposefully make folks run through rivers and punish those who don't. The mismanagement relishes having new folks run because afterwards the group gets to 'sacrifice the virgins'.

So much to my surprise I was given the opportunity to benefit some economically disadvantaged folks living near Boulder, CO as a participant in the Boulder Hash's annual Tits Buys Toys for Tots (TbTfT) drive ('course the name couldn't be wholesome; did you not read the above explanation?). Sunday, in the negative degree temperature, a group of dedicated hashers ran a short trail; had an even shorter On-In in a shopping plaza parking lot; then descended upon Target to buy presents for our assigned families per their XMas lists.

Alas, the Hashers were less inappropriate than I had expected and I don't have any stories about hashers being ejected from the store by the seat of their pants or being called out for suspicious behavior. Instead, I will brag about being part of this raunchy, ribald, riotous "drinking group with a running problem" which raised $1800 from amongst its members in order for three families in Boulder to have Christmas presents from Santa.

I didn't set out to write a reflection on Christmas, but I've gone and done so anyway. Thus I will do the reflection justice by taking this opportunity to thank mJ for introducing me to the concept of Hashing; fellow hashers who provided yet another excellent holiday experience; and friends, family and acquaintances who allow me to be a part of their lives.

Photo caption: Julie's cat Rodger giving us a death look while wearing his newest holiday gear: reindeer antlers!

Colfax

2008-11-23T00:00:00.000-07:00

The streets in Denver, so I'm told, are very organized. Those that run east <--> west are numbered (truth) and those that run north <--> south are alphabetized (lie).

This lie first became apparent to me in driving around my neighborhood. The streets in Capitol Hill/City Park West are not alphabetized; they are a random mish-mash of ego stroking. A few of the presidents made the 'A' list: Adams, Cook (not so much a president...), Madison, Monroe, Garfield, Jackson, Harrison (...was Harrison a president? Oops. Yes. And yes again.) and some of the Midwest: Clayton, Detroit, Fillmore (Minnesota? Nebraska?), Milwaukee, and St. Paul. In order to find the organized sections of the place, one must be east of Colorado Boulevard or west of downtown. (Where, in fact, the alphabet works well, according to this explanation by Wikipedia.) Oh, but wait. I've just discovered in reading Google maps that the street west of Broadway are alphabetized, too, although that run appears to be missing 'H' and 'P-Z', though they probably pop into and out of existence. It is this popping behavior that causes navigational confusion.

You come to a park and sometimes the road continues on the other side, but sometimes not. Or, a highway bisects one section of the street from the rest, but it's all the same street with continuous numbering. Or the street abruptly ends in a jersey barrier just to continue right... over... THERE. Who does that? I have been told the streets are organized and logical; they aren't allowed to just end!

And here, folks, is another case where the Buddhists are right: expectation leads to suffering. Each instance of my getting lost can be chalked up to the expectation that the streets are consistently organized and logical when they are not, which causes suffering in the form of lost time and gained anxiety. Well, you say, you claim to get lost in a paper bag, why is doing so in Denver different than doing so elsewhere? Allow me to use Boston as an example.

Despite this article in the Boston Globe, I maintain that Boston streets were laid out by cows. Once one is informed of this historical 'fact', navigational disarray of the city is a given, and from the moment one leaves the house to the moment one returns, it is expected that some degree of 'lost' will be encountered. But not so in Denver.

Upon learning I have navigated a car in Boston, a Coloradoan's first statement is, "You'll find Denver easy then!". Thus setting me up for unmet expectation and the aforementioned suffering. If it was just one iteration, perhaps I'd be able to buffer myself against it. But every Coloradoan I meet says it; I don't have the energy or the will to argue with every one of them! So, let me close with a note to the natives in hopes that my advice will be promulgated to the masses.

Deluding newbies is not helping your cause of convincing everyone in the US to move to Colorado. It is causing distrust and excessive CO2 emissions. Be honest. Be up front. Live up to your reputation for friendliness and buy us a GPS device. Or at least a map.

It's you and me against them, and they're presently winning

2008-11-12T19:01:00.004-07:00

Alas, my local REI is not currently hiring. But I've had meaningful communication with one potential employer and am moving forward with the screening process prior to being hired. And quite a process it is, although that's all I'm going to say about that.

In other news, I am volunteering for Planned Parenthood of the Rocky Mountains, which is a cause near and dear to my heart. I hope to provide patient education and perhaps some form of direct patient care, but, for the moment, am pleased to be pulling charts, calling to confirm appointments, and learning from the uber-friendly and knowledgeable staff.

In addition to working in the health center, I am also a member of the 'street team', which provides staff for booths at public health fairs and drops 'goodie bags' off at local bars at apropos times of the year (ahem, New Years' Eve, ahem). Finally, I worked with the political action arm of the organization (in addition to volunteering with NARAL) and helped to defeat Colorado Constitutional Amendment 48, which sought to expand the definition of 'person' to include a fertilized egg (NO GOOD!). So very pleased to have this opportunity to work with such an upstanding and positive organization.

As my friend J.H. observed, I'm not getting paid for much that I do. However, I enjoy it and feel that it is a good use of my time as I wait for the puzzle pieces of paid employment to fall into place.

Photo: The full moon from approximately 5800 West 50th Ave. Denver, CO

Have master's degree, will work for food

2008-11-06T22:46:00.003-07:00

There might be something to be said for playing by the rules, something at which I often fail. For instance, in my first year of university, I decided to take an upper level philosophy class. Even with the help of my friend and classmate Stephanie I was lost the entire semester (although did retain understanding of some of the concepts, which was useful in graduate school eight years later). I took the lower level classes in my final semester of uni and realized the error of my ways. But that hasn't stopped me from succeeding at making the same mistake twice.

I took the most direct way into nursing I could find: the entry-level master program. This is a relatively new concept in nursing education. One, I've realized, that hasn't quite made it to Colorado, which usually translates into curious and confused interview questions despite the explanation I offer in my cover letters. So, graduate level education was your mistake, you say? No, no, I assure all of those amassing copious amounts of debt for a string of letters after their names the education wasn't the mistake; it was my employment choices during and after that could prove to be my professional demise.

I had an interview at a local correctional facility during which the administrator told me she'd hire me, but she was afraid I'd be bored working as an RN when I'm trained to work as an NP. She used herself as an example of a person being happiest when she's met her professional goals. I appreciated her example... but where does that leave me?

That leaves me with my big principles and little income since I bucked nursing tradition and chose not to be a nursing assistant (moved to Colorado for a summer instead) then a floor nurse (hospitals make me nervous) thereby, in the eyes of nursing traditionalists, leaving me completely unprepared to work as a nurse practitioner (although I can make a good argument that one is not related to the other). So, if employers won't hire me to work as an RN or an NP has my disobedience to 200 years' worth of nuring 'rules' damned me right out of nursing?

Undetermined, but the application to be a sales associate at REI is completed and in the car. Although the discount on gear may very well negate the paycheck.

The election has set things right

2008-11-04T23:10:00.002-07:00

I am impressed with the US's efficiency during this election. Granted, I moved timezones, but I was able to know the results of the presidential election before I went to bed; heck, several hours before I went to bed.

Indeed, I imagine that there were some wrinkles in the national fabric of the election though I can only speak for Colorado: voter records were purged that shouldn't have been, mail-in ballots weren't mailed because the NGO to which the task was farmed out failed to deliver, the lines at the polls were anticipated to be hours long and at least 1000 voters were sent home from the polls without voting for one reason or another.

Though I had a feeling of dread going into it...
Though I had a feeling of resignation going into it...
Though it took me months to want to get involved in a campaign...
(because the election is all about me...)

Barak Obama has been elected the 44th president of the United States.
Amendment 48 to the Colorado State Constitution was defeated, 75% NO to 25% YES last numbers I saw.
Colorado is a 'blue' state.
My friend and his mom (no joke) somehow got those 1000 voters back to the polls and they successfully voted.

My life's cloud suddenly has a silver lining.

Fall photos

2008-10-30T12:43:00.003-06:00

The eggplant for which I'm still trying to find a recipe.

Sunrise looking East (duh!) on 13th Ave at Sherman St.

The view from the 29th floor of a building downtown where I did a flu shot clinic earlier this week.

Farmer's market bounty. I attended the farmer's market instead of Obama's rally... Not entirely sure I made the right choice, but it was the last farmer's market of the season, so in a sense both were once-in-a-lifetime opportunities.

Language abuse

2008-10-17T23:41:00.005-06:00

I have recently noticed that I over use the phrase 'thank you'. For instance, after I have given someone a flu shot, they often say thank you. I respond to this with, 'thank you', but why? Why am I thanking them? *I* did *them* a service, not vice versa. Sort of.

It is true the person chose to get a flu shot from me and by extension the Visiting Nurse Association of Colorado. In these times, when one has many choices of where to get a flu shot, it is nice that they have chose Colorado's only not-for-profit nursing agency, thereby supporting their community, etc. If this is actually that for which I am thanking them, however, I should be specific, so they remember the substance of the thanks and don't just brush it off as a stock answer. Although after saying to 70 people in a two hour period, it could very well be considered a stock answer.

I have also caught myself in situations where the 'thank yous' being exchanged seem to negate each other. For instance, after a colleague and I had finished a flu shot clinic the other day, we thanked the other -- for what? For doing our jobs? Or was something above and beyond the call of duty done for which to thank the other person?

I worry that 'thank you' is going the way of 'how are you?', which long ago became a generic greeting and not actually a question to which the other person wanted an answer. To lose this most basic expression of gratitude would be a shame. Then again, perhaps English speakers have always been too polite and this is just a move in the opposite direction to correct the problem. Now, before you give your top five examples of English-speakers' rudeness, hear me out.

In the three non-English languages I have taken at least a moment to study, there is no direct translation of 'you're welcome'. French and Spanish both use the equivalent of 'it's nothing' as a reply to 'thank you' and in Nepali one does not use the actual words for 'thank you' unless the person has done something truly spectacular. So, maybe against the backdrop of English-speakers' acute politeness at the back end of the interaction, a more casual use of the phrase at the front end is acceptable...?

On that last point, I disagree with myself, actually, and shall take pains to watch my language when it comes to the use of 'thank you' in order to preserve its integrity. Please join me in my quest to avoid the bastardization of our fine language.

Photo: Self-portrait of me and my newest scarf, patter courtesy of Vogue knits (I think) by way of Nine's grandma.

More than one would expect at the grocery

2008-10-12T21:15:00.002-06:00

On a daily basis I am astonished that I have the privilege to live as I wish; today this feeling came over me at the grocery store. I was shopping for molasses at King Sooper's, a local grocery chain. Just before I located the molasses, I came across a bottle of fruit-flavored syrup bearing a sticker of the image at left.

Though I had no need for this syrup I nearly bought it because I am so stinkin' excited that I live in Colorado (finally) and that that local goods initiative exists, which makes it possible for me to easily show my support of local businesses by purchasing their wares at my major grocer. In addition, it's empowering to communicate via my puchasing power to the management of my local grocers that I prefer to buy local. Finally, it's heartening to know that people at a more powerful level than the one at which I exist also care about supporting local businesses (and perhaps the environment, too, though I don't know that the environment was a consideration).

Indeed, it was quite a powerful moment in aisle 7 of the King Sooper's at 10th and Corona.

Image from: http://www.colorado.gov/cs/Satellite/Agriculture-Main/CDAG/1167928162081

Pre-meal moment

2008-10-08T20:09:00.002-06:00

I am in the process of adopting a pre-meal moment of 'thank you' to which I was introduced during the meditation retreat in which I participated in Nepal.

I sit with the meal before me, stretch my arms over my head then behind me in an effort to let go of the stresses of the moment, close my eyes and say 'thank you' to the people who made it possible to have food to eat, such as growers, packers, shippers and grocery employees.

The personal and the political

2008-10-02T23:02:00.003-06:00

I recently finished reading Embryo: A Defense of Human Life by Robert P. George and Christopher Tollefsen. I picked it up at the library to do a bit of reading about the other side of the argument and ended up agreeing with the authors -- to a point. The premise of the book is that an embryo is a human being and a person and therefore should neither be experimented upon nor terminated.

I have mixed feelings about the argument against experimenting upon embryos; I consent to participate in research studies on a regular basis. If the embryo, a minor by age as it is not 18-years-old, has a parent consenting for it, what's wrong with performing research upon it? But I also firmly, unapologetically, and undebatably continue to support legal abortion, even after reading a book in defense of human life.

I disagree with the author's argument against 'moral dualism', or that one object can not have two moral statuses. I believe a fetus, until the point of viability (which, for abortive purposes in many states is defined as 26 weeks, although I believe that gestational age could be pushed to 30-32 weeks if one takes into account wanting to avoid having a severely medically compromised infant on life support), is not yet a person. A person is one who can exist outside the womb.

As for the book, I wish I remembered more of my undergraduate courses in philosophy and ethics in order to fully appreciate the author's arguments. However, even without such recall, I was left feeling that some of their conclusions lacked evidence to back them up.

2008-09-24T20:31:00.005-06:00

I am struggling with my part in the pre-election season. Last Sunday I attended a house party for moveon.org and made phone calls to Moveon members, who are also Obama supporters, to make known to them opportunities to work for the Obama campaign. I was handed a script written by Moveon.org and a list of folks in Boulder to call. No trouble, right?

Part of the script was to ask folks if they've been following the campaign, and then to as a follow-up question or two. This implies that the caller has been following the campaign and knows enough to sound intelligent. I followed up with the next scripted line on the page. What a foul Obama supporter I am, or am I an Obama supporter at all?

I have very mixed feelings about having helped his campaign even for those two hours. It's not that I agree with the current administration. It's not that I think McCain will be any different than Bush, Jr. and therefore whole-heartedly support him. It's that I'm not sure Obama will be any different, either.

Maybe I'm too cynical to be alive, but what's keeping him from saying the right things now, and then changing his mind later? Or just not being able to carry through on his campaign promises? Really, what it comes down to is that I'm not sure I can get excited about another candidate; I'm still too politically tired from Gore's bid in '00. So, what to do? as the Nepali would say.

I've signed up to volunteer to register voters at Denver's Oktoberfest on Saturday. It's not a particular candidate's campaign, but it's still a contribution to the election effort. I won't have to make small talk about the presidential race I'm barely paying attention to. And I won't have to profess belief and faith in something I don't believe in. Although voting failed us in 2000, didn't it?

Shite. I wanted something to believe in.

It’s official, I’ve moved in

2008-09-21T02:32:00.001-06:00

It’s official, I’ve moved in; I’ve started hanging pictures on the walls of my apartment. Found three crazy affordable frames at the Salvation Army on Colfax, took them apart, and reassembled them with my photos in place. I keep forgetting to take ‘before’ and ‘after’ photos of such projects to impress y’all. Dang it!

The job hunt is not going quite as well as the picture frame hunt. I’ve determined that I don’t really want to work, so I’m having difficulty mustering the motivation to get excited enough about a job to convey that excitement to a potential employer. Unfortunately, the funding to support my not working is quickly dwindling; perhaps once I start panicking about making rent, then the job-hunting motivation will kick in?

Actually, I have successfully convinced the Visiting Nurse Association that I want to give flu shots this fall. I’ve been to a day of training, mostly about company policies and procedures, and my first flu shot clinic is in 10 days. I also have the option of working at other ‘wellness’ clinics, such as blood pressure and cholesterol screening. So, technically I am not unemployed, but I am under employed.

I ran with the Denver Full-Moon Hash House Harriers on Thursday. The Hash was a bit disorganized, as the car of the harrier (the guy setting the trail) had broken down and he was taking at least two forms of public transport to get himself to the on-in (the start), but there was running and beer and rabble-rousing, so overall it was a good time. As a result of meeting folks there, I’ve signed up for HashSpace.com, the online community for Hashers. So, if I know you, come find me; my Hash name is ShaggyMama (of course there’s a story; I’m not posting it here).

Photo by Josh Bartok (www.shobophoto.com), framing by moi.

A little more settled

2008-09-05T17:53:00.002-06:00

Last we spoke, dear readers, I believe I was apartment and job seeking. I've managed to lay the apartment seeking to rest; I moved in August 28th to a place close to everything. It's in a really quiet building on a noisy street; fortunately I'm a heavy sleeper. I've been struggling a bit with not having a schedule, but that may quickly be coming to a close as I had an interview for a registered nurse job this past week and I'll have an interview for a nurse practitioner position next week. YAY!

I've started running, and the breathing is getting easier, but I'm told it takes three months at altitude to get to 75% of one's sea-level conditioning... or is it 25% conditioning per month up to 85% and then *much* longer for that last 15%? Oh heck. In other words, it's gonna be a while before I'm running any marathons. The best part of the running is not the conditioning, but that I've found some folks with whom to run, as I continue to miss the camaraderie and the folks from the Himalayan Hash House Harriers. Unfortunately I haven't made it out to any Hashes here, so no drinking group for me... yet.

I've had a million and one ideas to blog, but now, of course, can't remember any of them so all you're getting is this mundane update on my life. I'll be more philosophical next time. Promise.

widget

2008-08-22T00:32:00.001-06:00

Click HERE to join MoveOn's "Bush & McCain: Can you tell the difference?" Facebook group!

Over 500,000 people have played the Bush-McCain Challenge! Join the "Bush & McCain: Can you tell the difference?" group, and invite ALL of your friends!

Click HERE to join over 60,000 Facebook users in our "I Endorse Barack Obama" Facebook group!

Join the "I Endorse Barack Obama" Facebook group, and invite ALL of your friends!

Sign the card: Get well soon, Senator Kennedy. Click HERE to join the group & sign the card.

Sign the card: Get well soon, Senator Kennedy. Senator John Kerry will PERSONALLY deliver this card to Senator Ted Kennedy.

We have arrived

2008-08-18T18:04:00.001-06:00

We have arrived. Saturday, actually. It will take me years to off-set my carbon emissions from towing a trailer with Sarah, my 1998 Honda Civic, but she survived and is resting in front of Julie’s neighbor’s house. The trailer is due back tomorrow; I’m hoping to have an apartment by then so I don’t have to pack and unpack my schtuff numerous times. The apartment field is not looking promising. Correction: there are lots of apartments I like, but no one is calling me back. Grrr.

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, ‘bout what I want to get involved in here, ‘bout who I want to get involved with, ‘bout job prospects and apartment prospects. I’ve expressed interest in volunteering with moveon.org and signed up for the emailing list for the Denver Hash House Harriers. I know the dance scene already, but I think I’ll try to branch out a bit, and not get stuck in the “It’s [day of week], I must go dancing” mindset.

Even with all that thinking, being here still feels temporary. Despite the loooong drive, despite the trailer of schtuff, despite the job applications and the phone calls about apartments, the whole scenario feels temporary, as it has been for the past five years of visits. Julie says her move two years ago didn’t start feeling permanent until winter came along, but she moved in March, so had been in town for eight-ish months by the time winter rolled around. Granted, winter’s not right around the corner, but I’m not sure four months is long enough. I was in Nepal for four months; did that ever start feeling ‘permanent’?

In terms of social scene it did; with the Hash House Harriers and the American Club I got involved as much as I felt comfortable. However, each time I saw an ad for an apartment, I would have to remind myself that I didn’t need to look for my next place to live, as I was leaving. In Denver, it’s the opposite. I keep having to remind myself that I need a place to live, that I can’t be at Julie’s house for the duration of this visit, as this ‘visit’ doesn’t have a terminus.

So, back to craigslist I go…

Moving week

2008-08-15T21:52:00.003-06:00

The road trip has commenced, yesterday actually. I decided to take route 90 to 80 to 76 into Denver. So, it's lodgings on route 80 for last night and tonight. Last night we stayed in Toledo, Ohio at the Howard Johnson's. Don't recommend it; breakfast was donuts and Capri Sun whilst the restaurant is renovated. Julie was quite upset about this. I was a bit annoyed, but realized that the problem isn't found in the actual breakfast, or the staff who decided that donuts and sugar water are adequate nutrition, but in our expectations of the breakfast. We read "breakfast provided" and interpreted that as "continental breakfast" and were disappointed when reality didn't match up to our interpretation.

Tonight we're at a the Red Carpet Motel in Walnut, Iowa (we've seen the breakfast area; there's at least cereal on the premises, although I can't drink milk and didn't bring any soy beverage). She thinks this a seedy motel. I think we have a (free) hot shower, cable TV, wireless internet, and beds with sheets and are therefore staying in luxury. What I am not happy about is the price of the motel; $60 for a motel in the middle of nowhere Iowa! The Super 8 (which we eschewed) was $80 for the night! Cripes. Something tells me we're not in Nepal, anymore, Dorothy.

Tomorrow hopefully we zoom through the rest of Iowa and all of Nebraska in order to get to Julie's house in Denver in time to sleep. It's slow going with the trailer attached to the Honda Civic, but we can hit 70mph on the downhills. In fact, it was really smooth sailing through Ohio, which I can now tell you is flatter than Iowa, with an average speed of 70mph. We're a bit nervous about the ascent into Denver, although neither one of us remembers it being a sudden incline. Maybe the final stretch won't be as slow as we're anticipating...?

JetBlue red eye

2008-07-07T13:05:00.002-06:00

My time in Denver is drawing to a close... for now. My return flight to Boston is at 12:55am Tuesday morning (love JetBlue red eyes!). I'll be in Boston for a month and then Julie and I are driving my car with a trailer of my schtuff attached back to Denver. We're considering a route through Hanover, PA (Rt. 76); Peoria, IL (Rt. 80); and Omaha, NB (Rt. 80) to Denver (Rt. 76). Do you live in one of those places? Do you know someone who does? Drop me a comment via this blog!

Americans hike where Nepalis trek

2008-06-25T10:49:00.005-06:00

I know I've settled into Colorado because I have three house keys! However, getting from one house to the other is a challenge; I think public transportation is worse here than in Nepal (although something can be said for having a published time table and a little bit of breathing room on the bus). I thought to augment the bus and train systems with a bicycle, but it's having issues with the rear tire and/or brakes, so I've opted for inconvenience over potential accident for the moment. When I return from hiking segments 7 and 8 of the Colorado Trail with Julie I'll take the bike over to a local shop and have it sorted out.

This hike will be lots different from the trek (why do folks in America 'hike' while those in Nepal 'trek'?) Mark and I did in Nepal. On the Colorado Trail there are no places of lodging or to stop food or tea (I miss 10AM and 3:30PM tea times...). The mountains aren't as tall, and there will be no monkeys in the trees. Julie and I may see deer, bears, and certainly less animal excrement than is on the trails in Nepal.

So, with that said, I'm off to negotiate the Denver public transportation system to get to REI and then Julie's house. Though I'm not the tallest, whitest person around anymore, I will be the one on the bus with the largest backpack, so wish me luck entertaining the locals!

Photo: Sunset looking westward from Mark's parent's porch.

Hot water on demand

2008-06-16T10:42:00.004-06:00

Photo: Looking west on Mass Ave. in Harvard Square, from the sidewalk in front of Mr. Bartley Burger Cottage.

T-minus seven hours until I have to be at the airport for a flight to Colorado. I have cleaned up the huge sewing mess I created in the last three days, including vacuuming, am mostly packed, and am in the middle of lunching. Rough life, you say? No, not by any means. But I have had some trouble settling back into it.

For instance, I pause before getting a glass of water from the tap to think: do I need to do anything to this water to make it drinkable? Iodine tablets? Chlorine treatment? Filter? Boil? All four? And the reality is my water is probably more filtered than bottled water, given my dad's propensity for gadgets.

And how amazing is it to have hot water on demand? Just twist the left faucet and there it is! No turning on the water heater, or checking one's watch to see if the solar water heater has had a chance to work its magic, or, reality for most of the population, boiling water. Just turn a knob. Just wonderful.

And while I'm on the topic of commodities, electricity 24/7 is certainly a great convenience. "Load shedding" as they call turning off the power for up to six hours at a time on most days of the week, was not as big an inconvenience as not being able to drink the water, for instance, but sure is nice to flick a switch rather than fumbling around for a flashlight for middle of the night wanderings.

Additional adjustments include:
1) Looking left-right-left when crossing the street
They drive on the left hand side of the road, which necessitates looking right-left-right when crossing the street. Took me weeks, and a few close calls, to get used to.

2) Being able to eat salads when I go out to eat.
The fear being the veggies being washed in local water and then served wet; most/all bugs are killed with proper cooking or once the veggies have dried.

3) The American Health Care System
While reassuring in that it has taken good care of me for this long, it was a hassle getting health insurance again, particularly since I had confounded the state's new heath insurance program by not paying and then leaving the country. Oops. On the other hand, unlike in Nepal, in the US one needs a prescription for most medications, although that's supposed to be more of a protection than an inconvenience.

And on that note, we're at t-minus 54 minutes until I must leave for an appointment in Harvard Square, so I must skedaddle.

Back in the States

2008-06-07T06:29:00.003-06:00

"You're back in town! How long are you visiting?"

Little did I know I'm visiting; I thought I live here. This is a question I started grappling with before I left Nepal (indeed, I'm back in the States as of 5 June at 0845) and am facing head-on here in Boston; where do I live?

At this moment, I'm staying with my parents at their house in Massachusetts, but is that where I live? Heavens help me, not that I'll admit! But does lack of a home indicate that I'm homeless? A homeless, upper-middle class woman with a storage locker, mailing address, and savings account; I'm certainly not included in the statistics summarizing 'homeless' people.

In response to my statement about needing to find a job, my friend Julie suggested moving to Denver for the summer and couch surfing while looking for work. She realizes Denver is not where I will necessarily end up actually working, but she's offered her back bedroom and internet connection to get me started. Denver's a place I love, where people I love live; not a bad place to call home for a few months, at least.

If it's that easy to change one's concept of 'home' in one's mind, what of one's possessions? How do they factor into the definition of home? I'd been content for four months with just two large backpacks o' stuff; what the heck is in that storage locker?

Buddhist teachings tell us that attachment to people or things leads to suffering, suffering leads to unhappiness, unhappiness leads to additional attachment, rinse and repeat. Seeking freedom from the circle of Samsara [circle of suffering] by means of enlightenment is one of the goals of all Buddhists. But does that include divesting myself of my grandmother's bureau, numerous boxes of books, and my kitchen accoutrements? Depends on why I have them.

The kitchen stuff is functional and, all told, expensive to replace; depending upon how long it's to be in storage it's probably cheaper to store it than to replace all of it. Buddhists would see this as a rational explanation for keeping the kitchen stuff; kitchen stuff stays (hopefully not much longer in the storage locker, though!).

In contrast, my motivation for keeping the few furniture pieces that are in there is pure emotional attachment; one bureau was my grandmother's, how could I part with it? The bookshelf, well, I don't know why, but it makes me very sad to think of parting with it. Never mind the photographs and knick-knacks; oy! Best not to even bring those items to the table during a discussion of Buddhism!

And there is the demon I must tame this summer -- emotional attachment to the contents of a 5x5x8 storage locker in Medford, Massachusetts. My immediate goal isn't even as lofty as enlightenment; I want to put that $40.00 per month towards something else -- plane tickets to see my nephews, maybe sponsoring a child in Nepal. But long-term I have much to gain through freedom from attachment: the ability to be present in the moment without thoughts of that 'stuff', less encumbered geographical mobility, maybe even closer relationships uninhibited by 'mine'.

Photo: Me and my stuff in the back of a taxi to the Kathmandu Airport.

Namaste, Nepal -- the other way 'round

2008-06-04T01:05:00.004-06:00

I'm already late for getting to the airport and I don't have to be there until 1513! I spent the morning futzing about making last minute purchases; I have one and three-quarter hours to pack. Wish me luck!

I am sad to be leaving Nepal and my friends here. I am excited to see friends in the US, have safe drinking water pour forth from the tap, and access to internet 24/7.

Don't know if y'all will keep reading, but I imagine I'll have more to blog once I start reintegrating. For now, wish me safe travels.

Gulphu Bhanjyang to Sundarijal to Kathmandu

2008-05-24T07:45:00.001-06:00

Day of the second earliest departure of the trek: 0800.

Swear I saw a 2 inch bug on the door jamb last night when I was up to use the toilet, but it was gone when we woke later on. Probably better that way; as it stands now I can pretend it was a dream, that bugs that large don't exist in the world.

Warm, sunny -- better weather than we've had for several days.

We agreed that we would walk as far as we could today in order to be in a good position the next day to hike to the end of the trail and catch the bus home. Turns out, catching the bus isn't a big worry; they run all day several times an hour. So we ended up pushing through to the end, Sundarijal, and getting home two days early.

The last uphill was a dozy (doozy, duzy...?), but the training paid off (i.e. the previous 11 days) and I made it faster than Mark expected (damn runner, walking up the hill like it's nothing!).

P.S. – I'm gonna write and complain to Lonely Planet; what they don’t tell you is that the last 2km of the trek is downhill via stone stairs. Lovely to look at, terrible on the knees. I was sore for several days afterwards. But more on post-trek life in the future.

Tharepati to Gulphu Bhabnjyang via Kutumsang

2008-05-23T09:30:00.001-06:00

Elevation: 2141

Departure: 0700 = very early.

Today we played trail tag with the Israeli, his guide, the Australian couple, their guide, and the pair of New Zealanders and their porter. And then we couldn’t find anyone with whom to consult when we hit Kutumsung and couldn’t quite figure out the trail. So we hiked on knowing we’d either find more of Kutumsung or find Chanauti from which we could take the bus back to Kathmandu.

We found the Israeli man and his porter and were joined by the Aussies shortly after ordering lunch. We never did see the Kiwis again; wonder if they got swept away by the downpours that afternoon?

This afternoon has the auspicious honor of beholding the worst trail I have ever navigated on any continent. It was a trail cum rain gully lined with slippery, red mud down a hill with a grade of 70-ish%. In how many languages can you say ‘miserable’?

That night, for the first time, lodging was a challenge. There were two lodges in town we passed up in favor of finding the gompa, which has an affiliated lodge. ‘Course no one knew what we were talking about when Mark asked about this lodge, but we got what we thought were reliable directions uphill to many lodges. Up we went. Mind you, I was ready to stop once we hit town, so I was not thrilled to be continuing, but I had agreed to search for this mythical gompa.

One stupa, too many steep hills, and a giggling group of girls later, we came to what seemed to be a new, clean lodge staffed by three girls under 10. Onward to the Lama Hotel, where the guide of the Israeli man was trying to save rooms for the Aussies and their guide. Onward to a private home where the residents looked at us askance when we asked for a room. Onward to a very pathetic, dark lodge we just kept walking past. Onward to another modern, but very locked up lodge at the top of the hill. We sat after agreeing to give her 15 minutes and in 13 she, her son, and their buffalo had turned up to let us in.

Laurebina Yak to Gosainkund

2008-05-21T09:45:00.003-06:00

Elevation: 4380

In the background is Gosainkund the day we were leaving -- blue sky finally!

Elevation: 4380

Dreadful up hill. Made worse by the clouds that accompanied us and then hung around all afternoon. Took a walk around Gosainkund [Gosain Lake]. Legend has it that after Shiva rid the Kathmandu Valley of snakes, he took a drink from this now sacred lake. Not sure about the legend, but I know there were many, many underpants strewn about the lakeside. Many more than one would expect in such a sexually repressed society... or maybe that's exactly what one would expect at a secluded lake in the mountains in a sexually repressed society? Quite a hike for some nookie!

Managed to beat off the hoteliers in order to walk through town to check it out. Ended up choosing the same lodge as the two Canadians (different people than from Langtang Valley), whom we had also encountered in Laurabina Yak, and we exchanged stories and heckling.

Also of note were the three Nepalis in their mid-thirties who joined us for the night at the guesthouse. These were not the noisy ones the proprietor of yesterday’s lunch spot had warned us against, but Mark did have an interaction with one of them that left a sour taste in his mouth. What to do?

Life on the trail has settled into a familiar rhythm: Breakfast. Walk, walk, walk. Snack. Walk, walk, walk. Lunch. Walk, walk, walk. Snack. Walk, walk, walk. Collapse. Dinner. Play cards/knit/read. Sleep. Repeat.

Gosainkund to Tharepati via Laurebina La

2008-05-21T08:30:00.002-06:00

Elevation: 3600m

Photo: One of the Gosainkund area lakes

Warmer and warmer and warmer. But still wearing two shirts and the down vest. No long johns under the skirt, but that’s cause they’re still wet – the joys of doing laundry too late to catch the sun and in high humidity to boot.

Played ‘tag’ with the group of Nepalis. They hadn’t slept much the night before due to headache, probably caused by the speed at which they ascended 1500m the day before. At the lodge the night before, I advised them to stay put for the day to acclimatize, but they ‘don’t have time for that’. We played tag again today, but had lost track of them once we climbed the first half of the 10-minute-long stretch of up hill.

We stopped at the only hovel on the trail for second lunches where three Tibetan guys were hanging out playing chess. They ended up passing us on the trail a few kilometers before Tharepati, therefore closing their lodge. Hopefully the other lodge near the hovel remained open so the Nepalis had somewhere to stop.

Stopped for the night at the first lodge we encountered (the other two were up hill where I was just not feeling able to go). Again encountered the Canadians, and added two Aussies, two Kiwis, an Israeli, and a gaggle of guides and porters to our rag-tag circle.

Thulo Syabru to Laurebina Yak

2008-05-20T10:00:00.002-06:00

Buddha’s Birthday
Elevation: 3925m

Rained all day, although not the downpour variety from a few days’ back; United States Pacific Northwest sort of rained all day. Lots of moss on the trees. Mist and fog floated by. Threat of leeches high, though none sighted.

Knew we were in Sing Gompa because of the cheese factory. It’s not actually a factory, the cheese is made somewhere downhill; it’s just sold at the factory. No use asking additional questions, I’ve found; they don’t translate well. We bought cheese, had lunch at a local teahouse and shoved on after receiving a warning from the proprietor of the teahouse not to stay at the same lodge as the large group of Nepalis who passed by during our lunch. “Very noisy. Bed late, up early. Two a.m.!” Having not encountered any trekking Nepalis on the trail to date, we had nothing to which to compare. We ended up ahead of them on the trail and never saw them again.

Dreadful up hill.

Managed to beat off the hoteliers in order to walk through town to check it out. Ended up choosing the same lodge as the two Canadians (different people than from Langtang Valley), whom we had also encountered in Laurabina Yak, and we exchanged stories and heckling.

Also of note were the three Nepalis in their mid-thirties who joined us for the night at the guesthouse. These were not the noisy ones the proprietor of yesterday’s lunch spot had warned us against, but Mark did have an interaction with one of them that left a sour taste in his mouth. What to do?

Life on the trail has settled into a familiar rhythm: Breakfast. Walk, walk, walk. Snack. Walk, walk, walk. Lunch. Walk, walk, walk. Snack. Walk, walk, walk. Collapse. Dinner. Play cards/knit/read. Sleep. Repeat.

Rimche to Thulo Syabru

2008-05-19T09:45:00.002-06:00

‘Thulo’ means ‘big’ in Nepali, so I was wary of this place, and its hills, with good reason. The entire town is built on the side of a small mountain, which we climbed to the top of before stopping for the day. I don’t remember removing my boots at the end of the day because I’m pretty sure I wasn’t the one to do it; I think I passed out from tired before that happened.

On the way to Thulo, we managed to acquire a stray dog, which followed us for five kilometers or so before deciding that the group with the woman formerly on a horse smelled better, or worse, or something. Mark and I carried on sans dog after checking our directions with some locals and then backtracking for 20 minutes to the correct path.

Looked for the lost map as we backtracked. Map china. [Map I haven't got.]

Kyangjin to Rimche

2008-05-18T08:30:00.002-06:00

Elevation:

Early on in the planning for this trip, it was decided that we wouldn’t risk taking the Ganja La [Ganja Pass] south, as it can be complicated by snow even in May and there are no lodgings along that route. So, today we started backtracking down the Langtang Valley. We saw Steve’s water project, which you can see more of on Mark’s website. From there, we ran to a nearby teahouse to escape what ended up being a two-hour downpour. Unfortunately, this afternoon set the tone for the rest of the trip; the afternoon rains followed us through Gosinkund and Helambu until we got to Shivapuri National Park on the last day of the trek.

We stopped at a lodge we had by-passed on the way up – the proprietor had been very confident in her cooking, her lodge, and the view it afforded. Of course it was cloudy the next morning. Turns out it was nearly a full house, complete with an outspoken Italian man, two Americans from Seattle, WA, and two French-people who would later save me from my hiking boots.

The female from Seattle is getting a Masters degree in international development some such from a university in London and doing her practical experience in Nepal. The project involves empowering Nepalis through video. Her male counterpart, like so many others we met on the trail, was on a longer tour of Southeast Asia. As it turns out, she was involved with the Room to Read crew in Seattle in its nascent days; it was enlightening to discuss both ‘Leaving Microsoft to Change the World’ (about the development of Room to Read) and ‘Three Cups of Tea’ (about a man who starts schools in Pakistan) with her.

Kyangjin, from a more philosophical perspective

2008-05-17T07:30:00.000-06:00

Elevation: 3750m
Time on the trail: Day hike

This pretty view comes at a price. For me right now that price is an uncomfortably cold temperature, but I leave tomorrow. For the folks who live up here, it’s more than just temperature; it’s limited gastronomic, reading, and recreational choices amongst many others. Is that worth a pretty view?

Maybe not, for me as an over stimulated Westerner, but for a person who hasn’t known any differently, is it worth it? The Tibetan man, Lhakhpa, owner of this evening’s lodging, prefers the settlement of Kyangjin to Langtang Village, just two hours’ hike from here. He also has a price to pay, however.

His wife spends much of her time in Langtang Village where their families live, so he sees her only when he takes time away from the lodge. His elder sons, ages 16 and 14 go to school in Dhunche, which is a three day walk from Kyangjin, and the 9-year-old goes to school in Kathmandu, which is a three-day walk and then a nine hour bus ride from home. For Lhakpa the cost of the view includes separation from his family.

Another factor is money – how much is it that he likes the view and how much is it that this is where he can earn a livelihood? Private school is expensive, but the public schools are viewed as worthless, so his sons must be in private school. Then again, getting supplies up here is expensive since everything is carried on a human’s back or head for three days. So maybe it really is a love for the environment that keeps him this far into the mountains?

Langtang Village to Kyangjin

2008-05-16T10:00:00.002-06:00

Elevation: Really high
Time on the trail: 1½ h

So cold, but the view is beautiful, breath taking, awe-inspiring. There is a ¾ moon illuminating the mountains, which are ringed by fog at their peaks. There are distant voices from other guest houses in the village, and the dull roar of the Bhote Koshi [River from Tibet] to the southeast.

There are probably a dozen lodges up here – more than one would think humanly possible given the difficulty in getting supplies, the cold, and the isolation. It is this plethora of lodgings that make it possible for Mark and I to have the entire place to ourselves, even though we’ve been playing ‘tag’ with four groups of people as we travel up the valley – two Canadians and their guide, three Dutch, a Swiss/French team of two and the group with the woman on the horse. Today we’ve seen all but the group with women on a horse ‘round town; wonder where they got to?

Because we had a short day – only two hours, but up 500m and into the zone for altitude sickness (we’re both fine), so it’s necessary to ascend slowly – we took a short hike into the foothills of the Himalayas. I saw my first glacier, a handful of new types of wildflowers, and weather changes that rival those of New England. No wonder people die in the mountains! (Not us, though, I’m writing this blog upon our return, remember?)

Tomorrow, after waking up to see the sunrise and then taking a nap (I’ve been promised a nap!), we’ll take another day hike, probably in the opposite direction of today’s hike and towards Langtang Glacier. I could stay up here hiking, knitting, and taking in the scenery for weeks, but we head back down the mountain, and on to Gosinkund area, in two days’ time. Speaking of knitting, check out the socks I’m making – follow the link for photos on the right side of the first page of the blog.

Riverside to Langtang Village

2008-05-15T09:30:00.001-06:00

15 May (or 16 May according to the Army Checkpost Guard)
Elevation: 500m
Time on the trail: 5½ h

Easier hike today, or maybe it just seemed so because the pack and I weren’t fighting? Or because the blisters had already formed? Or because the cows started morphing into yaks?

One gets many recommendations for lodges on the trail, mostly from the friends and family of those who run the joint. We don’t usually shop around much, so it’s difficult to judge if there really are differences in accommodations, but Peace Full Lodge is nice as lodges go. Dinner has been had; the magazines delivered; and stories traded. We’ll wait on seeing the water project until we return this way, as we’re anxious to get to the top of the valley to see what we can see.

Steve and his wife got married earlier this year after five years of on-and-off long distance relationship from Nepal to Australia. They’re applying for citizenship for her in Australia and the plan is to spend half the year in Sydney (I think) and the other half in Langtang Village. It has yet to be seen if she’ll like Australia, Lord only knows what will become of them if she doesn’t.

If you’ve read one of my first blog posts about feeling at home in places where one has keys, then you’ll know I’m a bit jealous of these folks. Ah, to arrange such a life for myself. Wonder if I’d enjoy it in reality, though. For the past seven year I’ve moved every year; wonder how 2-3 times per year would suit me?

Syabrubesi to Riverside

2008-05-14T08:50:00.000-06:00

Elevation: TBD
Time on the trail: 8½ h

Moved and moved and moved. My feet hurt lots. The usual spots on my collarbone are sore from the pack and I did something to my left shoulder. All in all, a good day of hiking.

Went two hours past our original destination, so that’ll make for a shorter day tomorrow – hopefully leaving enough time to do washing of body and clothes. (I originally wrote ‘selves’ instead of ‘body’, but the self, according to Buddhist philosophy, doesn’t exist. I’m trying to be mindful of my wording and how it impacts my perception of the world.)

Mark ended up a courier, or sherpa, if you will, when we stopped at a teahouse/lodge in Rimche to escape the pre-monsoon rains. This Englishman’s girlfriend had brought him current scientific magazines when she joined him in Nepal for holiday. The Englishman met up with an Aussie who wanted to read them, but the Englishman wasn’t done with them when time came to head downhill, so he agreed to leave them at this teahouse where the Aussie could pick them up at his leisure. Turns out the Aussie, Steve, is working with his Tibetan-Nepali wife, a German friend-volunteer, and local Nepalis on a water diversion project to bring running water to Gumpa, a village 200m above Langtang Village. And this teahouse was chosen as the post office because the proprietor is the aunt of Steve’s wife.

Had two helpings of spicy pasta a.k.a. chow mien for dinner and now, at 1950, I’m ready to sleep. Gonna try to stay up past 2000 so as to sleep through the night (like timing a kid’s bedtime, eh?). We’ll see how that goes for me. Yawn.

And Mark lost the map.

Kathmandu to Syabrubesi

2008-05-13T10:54:00.001-06:00

Elevation: TBD
Time on the bus: 10¼ h

Ten and a quarter hours bus ride up, down and over. Had a very full bladder, which nearly made me cry, particularly when the bus conductor (like a train conductor: collects money, keeps track of folks’ stops) told me we didn’t have time at that stop for me to find a loo! I went anyway and, no, the bus didn’t leave without me.

Got rained upon before we got the tarp up and even a bit afterwards, too. Oh, and rode atop the bus, hence the getting rained upon. Beautiful scenery, cautious bus driver, but very crowded bus. Had to haggle over the price of the ticket once we reached Syabrubesi (yes, yes, should have figured it out before we got on the bus…), but were comfortable with the final outcome of 460 NRs for both of us.

Walked ‘round the stupa, found a rain cover for my pack (a kid’s rain poncho, we got a picture), and ate our first trail meal.

On the road... by foot

2008-05-12T07:35:00.004-06:00

1... 2... 3... TREK! Mark and I leave tomorrow for a 14 day trek in the moutainous area north of Kathmandu, actually two areas -- Helambu and Langtang. We will see mountains. We will breathe mountain air. We will not get lost, dismembered or hassled by the Maoists (well, the former actually could happen, but they just want money).

I am bringing the socks I'm knitting that I swore I would finish in Nepal (I work best under pressure, four weeks' worth seems sufficient) and a light paperback Murakami book. And of course my mind, with which I can meditate.

[/meditation]

2008-05-11T00:28:00.001-06:00

After ten days of learning, two days of silence and then hanging out all day Saturday to catch up on all we didn’t say for those two days, my meditation friends and I parted ways as I leapt out of the taxi we were sharing in favor of catching a Ring Road bus to Mark’s house. But I’ll see them tonight for dinner in Thamel.

So now it’s back to Nepal-flavored life as usual. Except that I’m trying to incorporate meditation into my daily life. Already difficult, as I didn’t leap out of bed at 0545am to drink tea at 0600 to meditate at 0630, breakfast at 0730, etc. How to do this?

To make matters more complicated, because my work at the clinic is complete, I had to move out. So I’ve relocated to Patan (Mark’s flat) and don’t really have space to call my own for the next month. And we’re going trekking. Hm. Maybe I’ll put meditation on hold and work to maintain the five layperson vows of Tibetan Buddhism:

1. No killing
2. No stealing
3. No sexual misconduct
4. No lying
5. No drinking, smoking, drugs

Well, ok. I’ll work on four out of five; the ‘no drinking’ is out of the question; a beer is a rare pleasure, but one I’m not willing to renounce quite yet.

[meditation]...

2008-05-08T08:35:00.000-06:00

The young monk's chanting has begun and our first day of silence is coming to an end. For me, it hasn't been complete silence as I've spoken to shop clerks. But the folks in the class aren't supposed to talk to each other, including making gestures, smiling, etc., and as far as I'm concerned, I haven't. Any and all communication is off-limits in favor of introspection.

As one is not supposed to boast about one's meditation/Buddhist practice, I shant say much about it. I will say that I understand why people meditate, as I do feel calmer and more focused, after only eight days of practice. It has also, as last night's guest speaker observed, filled in some of the gaps in Christian teachings in regards to applying one's goodwill to benefit others, albeit with a slightly different bent than Christianity would recommend.

I have added numerous books to my 'Read List'; I particularly recommend 'The Perfect Mirror' by Adrian Feldmann for an accessible, explanation of Tibetan Buddhist philosophy and religion. Turns out there are at least two publishers of Tibetan Buddhist materials in Easter Massachusetts -- Weston and Somerville, so I'll have more books to add to the list once I've visited those fine establishments (didn't make sense to pay Rs. 100 to cover shipping of a book that's available in my home state!).

[meditation]

2008-04-29T22:48:00.003-06:00

Today I will walk up a steep hill to the Kopan Monastery where I will live for the next ten days in dorm-style accommodations. I will take neither computer nor iPod nor PalmPilot; what the hell am I going to do with myself? That has yet to been seen, although if all else fails I have a book and a really tricky knitting pattern for socks. I'll be back 10 May; blog then!

Today was my last day at the hospice

2008-04-28T19:53:00.005-06:00

Today was my last day at the Hospice. It’s a bit earlier than originally planned, as I am taking a meditation course that runs 30 April through 9 May. I am looking forward to the class, though I do wish I had a few more days between ending work and beginning the class; I am afraid I will not be fresh to meditate. But, what to do?

My feelings about completing my work here run the gamut (Thanks Kate!) from relief to sadness. I know my work was appreciated, but there is so much more to do; just in preparing my report to the clinic administrators and head nurse and doctor, I thought of additional ideas and programs I would have liked to implement. But that is me working anywhere. That’s the sadness part.

The relief part comes from not having 100% of my heart in my work. That’s the part that made returning to Boudha on Sunday morning difficult. That’s the part that led me to leave some of the “morning duty’s” work (a concept I disagree with, but is certainly the culture here) for the afternoon, despite the disapproval of the afternoon duty nurses. That’s the part that makes me wonder about ever working in a hospital. Sigh And we’re back to that again…

Mish Mash Mentor

2008-04-25T05:22:00.002-06:00

I just talked with one of the women my friends recommended as a good resource for helping to puzzle out my future. Indeed, she gave me lots to think about. Here’s an outline of my options:

a) Do I want to provide health care to patients, or not?
1) If not, then what do I want to do and how do I get experience in that?
i) Can I get experience in that without more clinical experience?
2) If yes, in what capacity, and how do I get experience in that?
i) Registered nurse
a) In-patient labor & delivery or antepartum; OB/GYN office
ii) Nurse practitioner
a) In-patient antepartum; OB/GYN office; prison; community clinic

Frankly, providing health care terrifies me; so much could go wrong! But on the other hand, most of it goes right and it’s satisfying to help someone meet her health care goals.

Even if I listen to the part of me that thinks that clinical practice is terrifying, I could still meet my goals in nursing – to ensure women have access to reproductive health care services – through advocacy or education. Granted, jobs in either of those specialties might require clinical experience.

If I choose to continue on with clinical practice, then I need to decide in what setting I want to practice and in what capacity. Questions that arise here include: do I need experience as a registered nurse in order to be an effective nurse practitioner? Do I need in-patient experience, or would out-patient be sufficient? If I choose this option, I need more experience in general, and specifically before trying to take those skills to the developing world (again); the United States is probably the best place for me to get that experience.

Some of these are questions I’ve struggled with since nursing school. And who knows if I made the right decision when I went to Colorado instead of starting on the traditional trajectory of a nursing school student by getting a nursing assistant job that summer. But, as I was just telling my friend Kathy, though it’s difficult to keep in mind, I like to think that everything happens for a reason. At this point, I’m waiting for that reason to become apparent in the form of a job offer!

Psychic map tune-up

2008-04-23T03:02:00.001-06:00

I don’t want to write any more. I wonder if this feeling stems from the discipline of the blog or jadedness about Nepal? In the former, tell me, blog writers, what keeps you writing? And for the latter, travelers, how do you keep a place fresh for yourselves, to keep from wanting to maim every non-English speaker that crosses your path?

Yes, yes. Of course I jest. I am not experiencing homicidal ideations (that’s feelings, for the lay-folk). But I am feeling annoyed and frustrated and fed-up with my current situation. The charm of the gaggle of pre-teen boys hanging around the nurses’ office has worn thin. My inability to communicate, except on the most basic level, with most of the people I interact with every day has lost its novelty. And it doesn’t help that I’ve had two bouts of diarrhea in five days.

Mark’s friend Ian bounced ‘round the world for something like 700 days. And I ask myself, ‘Self, how the hell did he keep going? How did he continually adjust to changes in language, food, social norms, and traffic laws? And what affect did those adjustments have on his “psychic map”, that sense of who we are in relation to friends, society, even the geography of home?’ And I wonder if my irritability stems from being full up on adjustments to my psychic map.

Adjustments such as instinctually looking right then left, rather than left then right, before crossing the street; responding to a question first in Nepali and then translating the answer into English to make sure I meant what I said; and not eating in public out of awareness that I have the luxury of eating between meals that many do not. No, I admit, not the most difficult personal changes to execute. But even little stressors, when experienced for, for example the 77 days I have been in Nepal, is exhausting; I sleep nine or ten hours a night and still need a nap in the afternoon.

Perhaps what is needed to balance these Nepali-influenced changes is an anti-Nepali measure. Wearing shorts and a tank top – so much female skin exposed, so not culturally appropriate! Or abandon the culture all together for a night in a Western hotel, as a former fellow volunteer suggested? Or a healthy dose of American macaroni and cheese from a good tourist restaurant. Or maybe all three.

Nargarkot, Kathmandu, Nepal

2008-04-22T04:54:00.005-06:00

This weekend Mark, his friends Leisha and Jeff (visiting from Boston), and I went to Nargarkot, which is a town about one hour from Kathmandu on the eastern rim of the Kathmandu Valley. Its main draw is the chance one might see the mountains from 'The Tower' at sunrise. Oy. After rising at 0500, indeed, we saw a mountain (Leisha continues to try to convince herself and Jeff, who was too sick to go with us, that we saw Everest) and I've included a picture here for your viewing pleasure. Can you name that mountain?

I can't speak for the rest of Nargarkot, apparently it's quite the tourist town, with hotels crowding the main street, but somehow we missed all of that. We had very nice accommodations on the road to The Tower and then had to leave town too early Sunday morning to do much sight-seeing. Alas. I'm not all that disappointed, I think we hit the main sight. And really, how many handicrafts can one person look at? Plus, if I haven't said it before, I'll say it now, being a tourist is exhausting!

P.S. - The mountain is in the top left corner of the photo.

Snippets

2008-04-22T04:31:00.002-06:00

I've not been on the internet in days, and I've been feeling really cranky too boot, so this is what I've got for you thus far. We'll see how long my patience with the heat in this internet store lasts; you might get more of me, you might not.

ξ ξ ξ

I didn’t realize it until a few weeks back at breakfast with Caroline and Brian at Caroline’s house, but I am seeking a mentor. Trouble is, I’m not entirely sure what I want to do within the field of nursing, so it’s difficult to seek someone in that niche to talk to. Brian and Caroline gave me a few names and I will call them and inquire about conducting informational interviews. I imagine it will happen over the phone, although it would be nice to meet face to face, too. Maybe I'll get a mentor out of the process, maybe not, but it'll be good to bounce some career ideas off of other nurses.

ξ ξ ξ

You know I’ve been studying yoga with the French-teacher doppelganger, but I bet you didn’t know that I have also enrolled in a meditation course. It’s 30 April – 10 May. I’m not sure if there is Internet access, so take note! I might be even more uncommunicative that week than usual.

ξ ξ ξ

Yesterday I observed at a government-funded abortion clinic. It is part of the only exclusively women’s health hospital in the country. The basic procedure is the same as in America, although up to twelve weeks, the only option is manual vacuum evacuation (MVA), as opposed to also having the option to use a vacuum that uses electricity. Medical termination, where the woman takes medication in order to end the pregnancy, is not yet available, but is under consideration, according to the doctor with whom I spoke.

Abortion was legalized in Nepal in 2002, though training for providers wasn’t available until 2004. Now there are trained providers in 71 of 75 districts of Nepal. Given the constraints on women in the realms of citizenship and childbearing (the abortion folks are working on this one, too) and the general lack of respect from society, I am very impressed by the reproductive health choices they have. Dare I say it, but their access to abortion is more secure than women’s in the United States! To boot, registered nurses can be trained in the provision of abortion – I am jealous.

Do you remember the first iPod ads?

2008-04-14T03:36:00.002-06:00

Do you remember the first iPod ads, with the people walking down the street, creating their own soundtracks to the world as they went? This was my intention yesterday, walking from Mark’s house to the Ring Road to catch a bus back to Boudha. I was successful until I got on the bus where loud, raucous music was blaring through the speakers. I decided it was futile to try to orchestrate my own soundtrack; so I gave in, removed the ear buds, and hunkered down to tolerate the bus driver’s taste in tunes. Ke garne? [What to do?]

I remember critics wondering about the effect of the iPod on American society: would it further fractionate an already individualistic society? Completely cleave one from another? Drive the final nail into the coffin of ‘community’? I haven’t gotten an update on critics’ perception of American society all these years later, but I know I am a happier traveler in Nepal while taking advantage of these side effects.

You see; so much of life in Nepal is lived in the public eye. And I don’t mean just as the tallest, palest thing walking the streets; I mean as anyone. Poor Nepalis bathe at public waterspouts. Their houses are so close together so as to pass the mustard. The concept of personal space is nonexistent.

I, as an American who was raised in the suburbs, tolerate this poorly. I get cranky and bug-eyed with each additional stimulus. I wander into traffic and potholes.

The music is a form of ambulatory meditation, which helps me tune out the din. Thus I maintain some semblance of personal space and sanity derived therein. I imagine if more people owned such devices here, it could do for Nepal what the suburbs did for America; give us all a little more breathing room. Even if it’s electronic air.

Oh, the wailing

2008-04-08T02:51:00.002-06:00

The wailing, oh the wailing… May you never hear this sound. Much unlike sirens to a sailor, the wailing/moaning typically serves to drive away those who surround her. It is brought on without warning, although often it is relieved by feeding her. The wailing belies deep suffering, mental and physical. It is the wail of one who cannot adequately express herself through words; she speaks little, and the little that passes her lips is barely intelligible.

Because of this, most of her history is locked within her, though we’ve had a glimpse. One of the foreigners who gave her food, clothes and blankets through the winter traced her to the Hospice – yes, she lived outside all winter; yes, it is assume she has been raped and otherwise physically abused; no, the woman doesn’t know anything more.

I have a connection with this patient; we play peek-a-boo and she smiles with a radiance that rivals Prabaker. It seems she urinates less often in the bed for me than for the other nurses, so perhaps she favors me, too? It is this thinking, though, that has left me in my current position.

I am angry with her. She is a patient. I am her caregiver. But still I am angry with her. I want to shake her, yell at her, tell her how her behavior is unreasonable and irrational. After the connection I had worked at. After the tolerance I had shown for her crying and urinating in the bed! After I had massaged her skin with lotion and bought her a toothbrush! She threw my kindness, and her afternoon tea, back at me. And subsequently threw my second peace offering, dhal bhaat, across the room, too.

Perhaps, however, the tea wasn’t thrown at me, seeing how the dhal bhaat also went ‘cross the room at nothing in particular. Perhaps it wasn’t meant as a personal affront at all (and even if it were, shouldn’t be taken as such by the nurse from her patient). Perhaps I’ve fallen into the very human trap of taking another person’s actions too seriously?

It is difficult to distinguish the sincere qualities of mental difference (i.e. low intelligence, chemical imbalance, personality disorder) from those of manipulation. And they may not be mutually exclusive, thereby complicating matters. I think I missed the life lesson on distinguishing one from the other, and that is at least one lesson at which I regret my absence.

While I do not know what other life lessons I’ve missed, I do know that I will report for duty tomorrow at 0700 and need to treat this patient with at least the same care and consideration that I offer my other nine patients. I know that I must not take her behavior personally if I am to continue to be her nurse. And I know that she will again throw comestibles and I must be quicker on my feet.

As I started to say in my last post

2008-04-06T23:05:00.004-06:00

As I started to say in my last post, when I was so rudely interrupted by a blown fuse, I have been very busy. I didn’t set out to be busy, in fact one of the things I like about Nepal is I have very little to do. Having so little to do has made me wonder how I ever did all the things I did while living in Boston. Guess I’ll find out when I return in June, eh?

I think I mentioned that I hung out with my friend Caroline at her work on Tuesday. It was partially a self-edification mission and part clinic-related. I experienced what Caroline does, and I brought back staff and patient education materials about maternal health for the clinic. Now to pull together a teaching about the materials… (I’ve been slacking and haven’t done a teaching for five weeks – time to make good on my commitment to do a few more before I’ve completed my volunteership at the beginning of May).

ξ ξ ξ

This past weekend I didn’t do a teaching for lack of preparation time because Mark and I went to Bhaktapur Durbar Square Saturday. It’s the former royal palace of the city of Bhaktapur, about 45 minutes by motorbike southeast of Kathmandu. There’s an entrance fee to most of the Durbar Squares, and this one is no exception, so we paid the fee and wandered about. Here more than in Bouhda, or even Thamel (the tourist section of Kathmandu), the beggars and sellers are vicious!

It seemed that every child who approached us wanted to take us to her thanka (predominantly religious paintings of, I think, a Buddhist origins) painting school, where we would have been pressured to buy a painting (and the kid probably would have gotten a commission). The sellers are equally aggressive; if a passer-by (i.e. foreigner) even looks in the direction of her stall, the seller offers products at “lowest price just for you” on “most good [insert name of handicraft here] – other [handicraft] no good.” I can appreciate trying to make a living, but I was exhausted by the end of the day from warding off the onslaught of capitalism.

ξ ξ ξ

Finally, the news you’ve all been waiting for… it seems (at careful glance and from four days in the future) that the first Nepali elections in 10 years are moving forward. As you may have read in Mark’s blog, the involved parties have announced a no-weapons policy; transportation and alcohol consumption have been banned starting Tuesday and Monday, respectively, through Thursday; and government employees have been threatened with termination (job termination, that is) if they don’t show up to their assigned election posts. I’m just sad I can’t vote… this is better than American politics by far!

What happened to this week?

2008-04-04T09:51:00.005-06:00

I have no idea where the past 7 days went since my last blog entry. I worked. I visited Caroline at her work to get educational materials for the clinic. I renewed my visa so I can stay in the country (and went shopping at the only place in the country with escalators between the floors!). And now it's Friday again. Oy.

Ok, Mark, here’s your 123 book game (page 123, fifth sentence in, three sentences total) from my current read, Kafka on the Shore by Haruki Murakami:

“I was the teacher in charge of the group of children on a field trip, the ones involved in the incident in which the children all lost consciousness. Afterwards, as you may remember, I had the opportunity to speak with you and your colleagues from the university in Tokyo several times when you visited our town with people from the military to investigate.
In the years following I’ve often seen your name mentioned prominently in the press, and have followed your career and achievements with the deepest admiration.”

And now I’m supposed to list five people who can continue this game on their blogs… hm. Am I allowed to tag Mark back? No? Ok... so, Matt, Luke (that's totally cheating, Mark tagged him and he seems to have no intention of responding), uh... the power just went out unexpectedly making it difficult to type. I'll continue this at a later time.

Why did I eat oatmeal with tiny bugs in it this morning?

2008-03-28T09:34:00.000-06:00

Why did I eat oatmeal with tiny bugs in it this morning, you may ask yourself. And I would have an unsatisfactory answer for you. Is it a sense of thriftiness that made me resist throwing away a brand new carton of oats? Or perhaps desperation, as I needed to eat quickly to get to work? Maybe tiredness? – I haven’t slept enough all week and it’s finally caught up with me. Is it any better that the boiling water killed them, so at least they weren’t squirming their way down my throat. Or that I also put raisins and a banana in with the bugs? Perhaps what really drove me to eat buggy oatmeal were the starving children in Africa.

Did your mom pull that one out every time you didn’t want to eat your vegetables or drink the milk once the cereal was gone? Mine did so even when I was inclined to throw away the salad dressing bottle before the last dregs were consumed. But I’m not starving, nor am I in Africa. This begs the question; do the starving children in Nepal want my buggy oatmeal?

Judging by the passing of the expiry date (February 2008), I am guessing not many Nepalis eat oatmeal. In fact, this carton was imported from the United States, so that may make it prohibitively expensive for Nepalis. They are more likely to eat sampa (a flour that’s cooked prior to purchase, one just adds water prior to eating), although that’s a Tibetan food, really.. Or just some toast and tea. Or crackers and tea. Lunch is the big meal ‘round here. Anyway… I’ve digressed.

Perhaps you’ve come to the point where you’re asking yourself, self, why doesn’t she return the carton and either ask for a new one or get her money back. Well, hm. I am very conscious of being a Westerner and all the privilege, like returning groceries when they’re sub-par, that implies. I don’t want to seem like I feel entitled to food without… bugs…? and even as I type that, I realize how silly that sounds. Of course one expects new food from the supermarket to be bug-free. Even a Nepali expects her food to be bug-free when she brings it home from the store.

Ok. Here is my oatmeal action plan:
1) Don’t eat any more.
2) Bring it to the store and tell them it’s buggy, and that I bought it recently, so it probably contained bugs from the get-go.
3) Ask for my money back.
4) If refused my money back, ask for another carton of oats, within expiry date.
5) If refused a replacement product, know that at least I tried.

Update: I exchanged the oatmeal carton for a new carton with a current expiry date. crosses fingers for an unbuggy breakfast!

French Yoga

2008-03-21T22:49:00.002-06:00

My Tibetan, Nepali yoga instructor reminds me of my high school French teacher. Though I believe in reincarnation, and I think Mazur must be dead – given his age ten years ago and the health issues he faced – the yoga teacher cannot be Mazur in a new body; their lives certainly overlapped. But definitely doppelgangers.

Mazur – as I remember it, he didn’t think us people until our senior year and called on us exclusively by our last names until then, so we responded in like – was just under six feet tall, with dark hair, which he wore in a short pony tail, an medium complexion, and round face. He alternated between two pairs of large-framed, thick-lensed glasses – one for reading, the other for distance, so he was always hunting for one or the other. He claimed to have a daughter of elementary school age, which was fuel for the fires of gossip for every incoming class – how did a man who appeared to be in his sixties have a daughter that young? He drove a red caravan in which he passed my bus stop on his way to school, although not reliably enough that I could call off class before setting foot in the corridor. He boasted about picking up road kill and cooking it for dinner due to having Native American heritage, which added to his mystique, but also the oddity.

My yoga teacher, whose name I do not know, has a similar facial structure, build, and height to the Frenchman, but has a darker complexion. He is probably in his mid-sixties, but everyone looks older than their stated age due to living in Nepal. Despite living in Nepal and teaching yoga, he dresses like Mazur as well: button-down shirt, dress slacks, and dress shoes. Even while teaching yoga. His one concession to his work is sometimes removing the shoes. The yogi, too, has a nontraditional hairstyle – it appears he has a bird’s nest stuck to the back of his head covered in hair. He owns a cosmetology school/ salon and yoga studio with his sister, who is a dour, middle-aged woman who rarely smiles.

Though the yogi doesn’t bark at me in French and Mazur never attempted to teach yoga, the similarities between the men are sure. I suppose I could ask at our next session if he has a brother in the United States, but I think the similarities are due to there being only so many personalities to go ‘round so they get duplicated. The physical similarities aren’t required, though they help in this case, as I may never understand most of either man’s utterances. It is only necessary is to have similar personality energies.

The everyday

2008-03-19T03:14:00.001-06:00

As I write (2100 on Tuesday), thunder is rolling over Boudha, though it’s not supposed to. It is months from monsoon season, and yet rain! Good for the hydroelectric plants, good for farmers, good for the flower trees trying their best to give a good show… Not good for the homeless who are getting wet in the chilly evenings. Not good for the sidewalk shop proprietors who literally sit on the sidewalk with their wares; they are losing income due to rain sooner than expected. Not good for Elizabeth’s laundry left on the roof to dry.

Not good for the public works crews that seem to be out in full force now. This weekend, there were two areas of sidewalk in Thamel, which made better gulleys than sidewalks. Yesterday (Monday) half the street from the stupa to the butcher was dug up, with the crew working well into the night. Today (Tuesday) there’s a mound where the hole was, but the diggers have moved on to challenge the faith of the Tibetan Buddhists. Coming ‘round the stupa at 11 o’clock, adjacent to the bricks and rebar from a nearby construction side, sidewalk shops selling Buddist prayer beads, and two women selling baked goods, the diggers have narrowed a four-person path to a two-person path. Question is: what are they digging for? The power lines run (much too close) overhead. The sewage drains are ditches at the side of the road. We can only hope buried treasure is a possibility…

In the not-so-good-news department, we share a border with Tibet, and there’s doin’s there, as I think I mentioned in my blog two posts back. No rally of support in Nepal today, but who knows what tomorrow will bring. According to CNN, the Dali Lama has said he would step down as Tibet’s political leader if his people let things go to violence. Could a change in leadership be what needs to happen to get China to alter its strategy, or will that result in increased violence and threats? Difficult, very difficult.

On a personal note, I have recovered from my viral illness. I am slowly reintroducing foods to my palate, having followed the B-R-A-T diet for a few, bland days. I worked a very busy day in the hospice by myself and everything seemed to happen – an actual hospice patient was admitted, a current patient tried to overdose on medication, the semi-plegic woman wanted to walk to the toilet, one of the patients won’t speak at all… I felt purposeful and (mostly) competent, but it’s a good thing the job is only for one month!

Prabaker is dead

2008-03-18T05:35:00.000-06:00

Prabaker has died. He was in a cart versus automobile accident, but the cart was carrying steel beams and these beams came through the windshield and completely severed his jaw from his face. Though the tragic events have been read over and again, I am no less sad to lose my favorite character in the novel I’m reading than if it had been written for my eyes only.

Shantaram is loosely autobiographical, which makes it all the more sad that such a wonderful, loving, happy individual once roamed the Earth, or at least Bombay, India, and does no longer. Prabaker brought to life for me the joy in the head waggle (tilting the head from side-to-side to express happiness or agreement) that I see in Nepal. He is said to have had a grin that competed with the sun. He was known for his generosity and open heart. But more than telling you about Prabaker’s good self, dear readers, I want to talk about why he died.

It seems to me that he would not have met his demise from this accident had he lived in the United States instead of India. And why? Because doctors in the US would have spent many, many healthcare dollars on replacing the man’s jaw and surrounding organs and then nurses would have spend many more dollars restoring his to some sort of his former self. He would have received blood transfusions, donor organs, and hours of surgery. It would have been a miracle, perhaps even written up in a medical journal. The question is, despite how much I like him and think he makes the world a better place, do I agree with the expenditure of so much money on one human being’s health?

I suppose someone must take risks and push the envelope – how else would penicillin and aseptic technique been discovered? But how far should experimentation go and at what cost? I have read that in Canada people die because, due to cost, they cannot have procedures that are routine in the United States. But Canada has socialized medicine, which covers basic health maintenance, therefore theoretically minimizing the need for costly procedures.

But, dying, you say, that’s tragic! No, I say; it’s expected and necessary. You’re heartless and callous, you say! So be it, I say.

I believe that healthcare dollars are best spent treating the basic health needs of many, rather than the extraordinary health needs of one. Now, before you start casting aspersions that I’d feel differently if I had a family member who was gravely ill, etc., I have had such a family member. He had brain cancer; he died. From diagnosis to death was a matter of months. Do I wish his death could have been delayed? Yes. But do I wish he had his life at the expense of other people who may not have received care due to cost had more been spent on his care? No.

Perhaps this is why I’m terrified of working as a nurse in a hospital; to have one’s opinions challenged daily is exhausting. To have to earn a living in a way that goes against one’s beliefs is demoralizing. How to reconcile this? Well, thus far I’ve avoided the hospital. I’ve worked in people’s homes (although not without its belief-challenging moments), in a prison, in hospice in the developing world. But not in an American hospital. But now I face a professional crisis: what do I want to do when I return from Nepal? Can I possibly work in a hospital without finding it exhausting and demoralizing? What kind of nurse do I want to be when I grow up?

Jennifer - 0, Stomach bug - 1

2008-03-17T06:16:00.000-06:00

Had a great Saturday wandering around Thamel, the tourist area of Kathmandu. Bought a kurta (pics to follow, mom, once I get it fitted), got lost, found myself, and generally enjoyed the sunny, warm afternoon. Then spent the balance of the weekend at Mark's house, feeling sh*tty after vomiting Saturday night. Prolly wasn't the food; he and I ate the same thing for dinner, which I cooked.

I blame some sort of virus and am hoping it leaves as fast as it came, but it is now Monday and, while I feel much better than I did Sunday (like, I can get out of bed), I'm still not 100%. According to Caroline, an American woman working in Nepal for a year and a half, now is the time of year folks often get sick, as the bugs live a little longer. Great. Not as excited about Spring as I was last week...

On my walk to the clinic from the bus from Mark's this morning, I passed several fellow clinic folk walking *away* from work. Turns out they were on their way to a march in support of Tibet, the day after the 49th anniversary of the Dali Lama's exile to India, and the day after China put the smack down on mountaineers climbing even the Nepalese side of Mount Everest until the Chinese has summited with the Olympic torch. As you, dear reader, saw in the photo in my last post, the "Free Tibet" graffiti has become more prevalent; and even today on my way to the internet store I saw a new schmear: "Boycott the Olympics". Exciting times; I'll keep you posted.

I don't like my job

2008-03-12T02:29:00.000-06:00

I don’t like my job. There, I’ve said it. It’s difficult to admit, as I have traveled half way ‘round the world to do it, but it’s boring. In my capacity as registered nurse in the reproductive health clinic, I measure blood pressure, read weight on the scale, clean the examination room, and occasionally talk to English-speaking patients. This is not what I want to do. This is not what I came to do.

I want to give counseling about contraception and antenatal care and sexual dysfunction. But these things are über difficult when one does not speak the language of the majority of one’s patients. So, I must suffice as a nurse practitioner (the practice of which doesn’t even exist in Nepal) on the occasional English-speaking patient with diarrhea.

I feel a bit misled by the clinic, as the explanation of volunteering I read online said they wanted nurse practitioners when in reality the role of nurse practitioner doesn’t exist in this country. Then again, I did not ask questions about my responsibilities, so I am equally culpable. (Note: I have helped to draft a letter to volunteers interested in the reproductive health clinic, so as to save future nurses at least this disappointment).

As I wrote in one of my last posts, I enjoyed working in the “urgent care” department, which they call the “Dressing Room”. However, the usual nurse is back and, well, I don’t know why that should stop me. Well, part of the problem is his limited English. And I don’t want to step on his toes; when I worked in the Dressing Room last week, my friend Kunsang was working in there and it was no problem to work with her. I don’t know how he’d feel about my company. And with my limited Nepali, discussing feelings isn’t easily accomplished.

Today I spent the morning working in the hospice, where there are no dying patients, actually. I felt useful and productive doing dressing changes and giving sponge baths. However, I listened to the usual nurse vent about her frustrations with the work and I’m afraid I have internalized her feelings, as now I am out of sorts (another difficult thing to admit, as I’m half way ‘round the world – aren’t I supposed to be having a great time?).

To boot, I have started having anxiety about what to do when I return to the states in June. Continue with plans to move to Colorado? Stay in Massachusetts? Go elsewhere in the world? I have started to look for jobs in Colorado on my limited internet time (Wi-Fi is Rs. 30 per hour, which is less than $.50, not so expensive, but also not how I want to spend all of my money), but I am feeling discouraged; the job I want isn’t out there yet and the jobs that do exist are suboptimal. Although I’m not exactly sure what the job I want looks like, anyway. To make matters worse, I wasn’t having any luck getting an interview for a job in Colorado while living in Massachusetts – never mind while living in Nepal!

So, dear reader, your assignment today is to please send to me karmic vibes for clear thought. Thanks ☺

Comings and goings

2008-03-07T22:04:00.000-07:00

Boudha, where I live, is to the Tribuwan Airport, as South Boston is to Logan; I can hear every plane coming and going. Which means my neighbors, Nepalis with fewer means than I and probably no passports, can also hear every plane coming and going. It’s not so many planes, but still I wonder how they feel about living so close to something so unattainable? Then again, my neighbors may not have access to running water in their homes, a hot shower (although for me that’s a luxury, too), or adequate nutrition, which is all available to me through the clinic. So, the neighbor Nepalis live near much they don’t have themselves.

Here, yes, I am the ‘upper class’, but that cannot be said about me everywhere I go. And even as I start to write the things I live near or see in my daily travels in America that I cannot have, I realize that none of it is so important. None of it is having cooking fuel so I can make dinner for my family. None of it is having water that is safe to drink flow from the tap (or having a tap in the house to being with!). And this is a good lesson to remember.

But before us Westerners go on a binge of verbal self-flagellation for the things we take for granted, I will remind us that there is a ‘spoiled’ upper class here, too. One that shops at the local grocery store where there are twenty varieties of rice cookers for sale. One that keeps the knock-off North Face market alive. One that buys those sweat pants with the words written across the a$$. Are they as well off as the privileged in America? No. They still don’t have clean water flowing from their faucets. And they face the same petrol shortages as the poorer folks. But, when you have pants that broadcast your feelings to the world, sitting in a car would be a shame!

Women's health be damned!

2008-03-07T21:57:00.001-07:00

I have discovered urgent care. Unlike most of women’s health, which requires building a patient relationship and then hounding the patient relentlessly about healthy habits, urgent care is a gritty, short-term relationship with immediate gratification at the end. No hounding involved. Granted, some of the skills I have acquired would not be a nurse’s responsibility in the states, but I can still boast about each of my new skills like a Girl Scout with new merit badges.

Two weeks ago it was EKGs (electrocardiogram – but ‘cardio’ begins with a ‘k’ in German). The French radiologist gave me a 10-minute refresher lesson and then I was the go-to girl for EKGs for a week while the usual nurse was out. This included my doing an EKG on a dead woman because the family was skeptical that she was actually dead. Though I’m only marginally passable at actually interpreting the test result, the machine does some of that, so it’s possible to have a ballpark idea of the seriousness of the person’s problem before she even has her clothes back on.

Last week it was lung puncture (bottom of the fifth intercostal space, otherwise you’ll knick the nerve!). In this case, it was to confirm the diagnosis of pulmonary tuberculosis (PTB). The doctors got a kick out of handing the reins over to me, and have initiated me into medical school culture by insisting that I buy them a snack after the procedure, kinda like throwing my own ‘congratulations’ party. Again, very immediately satisfying; hay-colored fluid is enough to confirm PTB; then we send the patient off to discuss TB treatment with the direct observational therapy (DOTS) nurse.

This week, my badge is in assisting with minor surgical procedures. One was a sebaceous cystectomy on the patient’s right pinky finger. The doctor was in charge of cutting and I was the blood mopper. The doc cut the cyst open, gave it a squeeze, and the gunk oozed out – it was gross and fascinating at the same time. It took about 30 minutes of mopping and squeezing, but we got the cyst drained and then sewn back up again.

Probably the most common minor surgical procedure in the clinic is draining abscesses. This usually involves my helping to hold the patient down because he’s writhing in pain, but I aspire to be the one to cause the writhing and subsequent draining of said abscess. These are a bit less quick to resolve, as it can take days to weeks for the infection to respond to antibiotics and then for the body to drain the abscess. However, abscesses have a really good ‘gross’ factor, so that compensates for the delay in gratification.

Future badges include suturing, wound dressing, and venipuncture. And I thought I had come to Nepal to teach!

What is Nepalese society’s obsession?

2008-03-04T04:19:00.000-07:00

America’s is looks and beauty and weight and money and, and, and… In Nepal it’s… not getting giardia? Having all one’s children live to adulthood? Living past 50-years-old oneself? Mark has a blog entry about a garish pink house in his neighborhood; perhaps life here is about the color and size of one’s house?

For some who visit the clinic, it seems to be all about health; like in America, they visit for the silliest reasons – the common cold and itching after not taking a shower for 20 days amongst them. But for so many others, healthcare seems to take second place to food, shelter, water… the things one would expect people from a developing country to be concerned with. So how do healthcare practitioners help folks see the importance of their physical well-being?

Maslow’s Hierarchy of Need, comes to mind in this situation. Maslow posited that people cannot worry about higher levels of needs, like education and self-realization until their basic needs of food, shelter, and water are met. If we break it down even further, people can’t worry about their health until their needs for food, shelter, and water are met. But it’s all connected, we say. But we say that from a middle- to upper class background, not from the corrugated steel shack on the side of the road. Thus, basic infrastructure, such as clean water and affordable food, needs to be acquired before people can start worrying about their health.

I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it again, but I’m hoping the elections 10 April go somewhere toward fixing this infrastructure. However, as I get further into Forget Kathmandu, which is a history of Nepal from the early 20th century to today, I lose more and more hope. Nepal has been here before – on the cusp of an election, which promises to finally bring democracy to the country, but ultimately fails and the country returns to a monarchy. It’s been here, oh, eight times, I think, and I’m only on page 141 of 260, so there’s time yet for more failure.

Knowing this, I’m not so sure that my original feeling that Nepali elections are more exciting than American elections is true; it seems both flavors have bad aftertastes no matter the sentiment going into it.

Craptastic week redeemed

2008-03-02T04:34:00.000-07:00

After a craptastic week prior, last week was bloody good fun. With fellow volunteer Elizabeth, I wandered out to a new, quiet place in Boudha, the monastery Kopan, where I may take a 10-day course on meditation in a few months. I attended yoga class by myself (i.e. without the five other volunteers from the clinic) and felt very independent. The opportunity arose to perform a pleural effusion needle biopsy, and the doctors had me do it. And I did an EKG on a dead woman.

I could suspect that I was called to do the EKG because no one else wanted to touch her, but I’ve been called on to do every subsequent EKG, too, so it wasn’t just the dead part that freaked them out. As it turns out, the nurse who usually performs the EKG is on holiday, and, of the four physicians, one medical student, and three nurses on the premesis, I was the only on who knew how to do an EKG. And that’s only because the French volunteer doctor had given me a lesson two weeks’ prior. I guess it’s true that on-the-job training is often the way things are learned.

I’ve now given my second teaching on women’s health, although the first was more lively than the second, I think the material about menstruation needed covering in order to continue. Now to choose a topic for next week… I hope to have my women’s health book from home, via California and Bangkok in time to choose a subject; otherwise maybe I’ll have them write down the questions they’re too embarrassed to ask and then pick them out of a hat and answer them. Or something. Any ideas, fair readers? If so, send ‘em along.

In Nepali news, businesses were shut down today in a show of solidarity, and to make a point about needing increased security, after one shop owner was killed and the other wounded Friday night. Oy, just as the bandh on the Terai ends, there's trouble in Kathmandu. Never a moment of peace. But, the hydropower plant has come back on full-force, so load-shedding has been reduced by 1.5 hours each day. Too bad those hours fall when most of us are sleeping. I think we're just been flipped off by the power company!

P.S. – I’ve decided it’s not bed bugs that have bitten me, as I have had no new bites for several days. My latest theory is invisible mosquitoes.

Adding insult to injury

2008-02-26T03:57:00.000-07:00

My mother's worst nightmare has come true; I think my bed has bed bugs (she was obsessed with them when there was a minor outbreak in Boston this past fall). I woke up several days in a row with itchy bumps on my arms and right leg, but none when I spent two nights in the spare room of Mark’s flat. At least I hope it's bed bugs, sorta, cause having a biting spider in my room is very unappealing, as is having scabies or measles. I have another bed in my room that's not in use, so I may switch to see what happens.

The other night at Mark's flat I took Benadryl because the itching was maddening, which was actually a godsend because I slept through the 5:30am rooster that usually wakes me when I sleep in that part of town. Yes, there are roosters in Boudha; no they don’t wake me. Perhaps the Hindus’ ceremony at dawn involving bells and a horn aggravate the situation? Not to mention the neighborhood dogs who start yowling in response to the aforementioned horn. No good sleep to be had in that section of town. If it weren't for the electric water heater his apartment has, versus the solar water heater the clinic has, I wouldn't go there!

This early waking almost explains the poor behavior of Nepali drivers. First, they drive on the “wrong” side of the road, which rendered me incapable of crossing the street for the first week I was here. Add to that a lack of lane markers and general driving rules and it is amazing I’ve not witnessed more traffic accidents. And if the haphazard driving behavior isn’t enough, it is accompanied by much honking, which is both a courtesy “Honk! I’m passing you! Honk!” as well as “honk! I’m really annoyed with you! Honk!” The water trucks even have "please honk" painted on the back! However, traffic all but stops once the sun goes down, so honking has not been a cause of loss of sleep for me.

Namaste, Nepal (and now Denver!)

Would you do it again?

Thinking about blogging is not the same as actually writing a post

Rock Canyon Half

Vox

Passion (maybe a redux?)

A bit of a fanatic

Neighborhood

The Human Race 10K

Shhhhhhh!

other's realities

Breaking out of the routine

Just a *little* neglectful

Garden of the Gods

What I learned on my summer vacation

Birthday Bash

Life Maintenance

Pringles

Schedule

Medicinal traitor

Once upon a sweater

Better than TV

Maybe med school

The Sisyphysian Life

Warranted but harsh criticism

30

Evening ride

Working Colfax

Nearly Virgin Hare

Coming soon to a state near you: The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood

Take action!

Buddhicat

Character: a meta-analysis

I. Am. Not. New.

18 and counting

Love song to Mount Elbert

Buddhism vs. Hashing, Round 1

Love, how do I express thee?

Coloradoan in New York

TSA is here to stay

What's quickly becoming my annual holiday newsletter

My (current) knitting nemesis

Season Snippets

Colfax

It's you and me against them, and they're presently winning

Have master's degree, will work for food

The election has set things right

Fall photos

Language abuse

More than one would expect at the grocery

Pre-meal moment

The personal and the political

It’s official, I’ve moved in

A little more settled

widget

We have arrived

Moving week

JetBlue red eye

Americans hike where Nepalis trek

Hot water on demand

Back in the States

Namaste, Nepal -- the other way 'round

Gulphu Bhanjyang to Sundarijal to Kathmandu

Tharepati to Gulphu Bhabnjyang via Kutumsang

Laurebina Yak to Gosainkund

Gosainkund to Tharepati via Laurebina La

Thulo Syabru to Laurebina Yak

Rimche to Thulo Syabru

Kyangjin to Rimche

Kyangjin, from a more philosophical perspective

Langtang Village to Kyangjin

Riverside to Langtang Village

Syabrubesi to Riverside

Kathmandu to Syabrubesi

On the road... by foot

[/meditation]

[meditation]...

[meditation]

Today was my last day at the hospice

Mish Mash Mentor

Just a little neglectful