Heeey, Sexy Guatemala!

What a wonderful whirlwind of adventure! I had the opportunity to meet up with my great friend, Alex, in Guatemala for a week. He had some work to do for his position with Cross Cultural Solutions, but was able to come early to spend time with me. It was such a pleasure to see my old friend, and a wonderful thing to reconnect with him as if we had never been out of touch. For the entire week, barely a word was mentioned in terms of “catching up”. Instead, we jumped right into normal conversations, as if we saw each other daily. This is a mark of a very true friend.

Alex and I met in line to get our passports stamped and then headed into the chaos of taxi drivers and loved ones searching for family members. Among the endless offers for a taxi, we found Alex's colleague, Virginia, a wonderful woman with a sense of humor and personality that won't let anyone stop smiling. We headed back to the home base in Guatemala City for lunch and jokes and then Alex and I jumped on a bus to Coban, only 5 hours away.

I found myself slipping right back into the backpacker lifestyle – a lifestyle that is not nearly the same as tourism, or traveling – a lifestyle that I dearly love. We got off the bus in the dark and had very rough directions to our hostel. We got lost. We got found. And, we ended up chatting with other travelers and making friends from around the world. It was awesome!

We slept for a few hours and then hired a guide to take us to Semuc Champey, 3 hours and 2 buses away. When we arrived, we found one of the most beautiful places I've ever seen.

A raging mountain river tunneled under about 200 meters of land, on top of which, tiny streams filled the most gorgeous mountain pools, ever.

The water was slightly tinted blue and was as clear as any fairytale lake. Beyond that, the perfect mountain air was complimented by the perfect water temperature, in which we swam and explored! It was absolutely perfect!

Unfortunately, we only had a couple hours there. This will be a regret until I return. Back on our buses, all the way to Coban. Met another wonderful backpacker, and then went to sleep for our early bus to Flores. This bus was only for tourists so we took the opportunity to meet some wonderful new people and share some great stories from the road.

Once in Flores, we found all the hotels to be booked because of some city holiday. Eventually, well after dark, with the help of the owner of the bus/tour company, we found places to sleep. Alex and I shared a hotel with Nick and Raha, a couple from NYC on holiday break from their studies. We decided to explore Tikal together the following morning and grabbed a couple hours of sleep before our bus picked us up at 4:30.

Tikal was fantastic! We arrived early enough that it wasn't saturated with tourists. We went directly for the tallest temple we could climb, and ascended to front row seats as we watched the awakening of a tropical forest.

We practically had the moment to ourselves. It was really special, and so I busted out a bottle of local booze made from hibiscus and thanked the Mayans for creating something so spectacular in such a spectacular environment.

The four of us spent the day exploring temple after complex after shrine after sacrificial altar! The structures weren't as profound as the pyramids in Egypt, but the magnitude of the site did manage to blow me away. It was so vast and complex! 

The heat of the day got to us so we returned to Flores where Nick and Raha found a better hotel with a pool and a warm-tub. Alex and I joined them for some soaking and conversations before we caught our overnight bus back to Guatemala City.

The first bus we got on was awesome! As good as any first class European bus! Plus, we sat next to a cute Argentinian gal and a cute Bulgarian gal who I had met at Tikal and got a chance to speak in Bulgarian! The bus was spacious, clean, and the Argentinian said we would get served food! It was so comfortable - for about 15 minutes - when we made our first stop and the bus driver kicked us off the bus... Evidently, the clown that sold us the tickets used a weird receipt from one bus company, but was actually for another. When “our” bus finally came, it was overcrowded, smelly, dirty, foodless, and an unintelligible movie blared loudly and kept me from sleeping... So it goes. This is just part of the backpacker lifestyle.

We arrived back to Guatemala City around 6 in the morning and slept for a couple hours before departing on another bus ride. Alex had to check out a school for their teen volunteer program that was in a village about two hours away, and Virginia said it was okay if I tagged along. It was really great to see what Alex does for work – and it appears that he's very good at it – but it was more impressive to see what his organization does. I encourage anyone looking for a short-term, international volunteer stint to check out Cross Cultural Solutions. After work was finished, we checked out another Mayan site and headed home through a very remote and bustling Guatemalan village.

In a very short time, we managed to spend hours upon hours on buses. It's certainly not comfortable travel, but it is so insightful to see the countryside and how people are living – especially in Guatemala. I was told to expect a very colorful culture here, but my expectations were far short of reality. From the window, I saw the most hardworking, laborious people I've seen in any country. All of their faces told a story, and the character of the rural population was incredibly beautiful. While we were on foot in some of these communities, I was also shocked to see quick, superficial scenes of the local life of the most conservative Latin American country. In other countries, kids will approach you and ask for money or food, without shame. Here, they just casually walked near to us and stood there, hoping that Alex would share some of his Japanese peanuts. Despite the heavy tourism, locals still look upon foreigners with intense curiosity. I like to think it's because I'm super pretty, but people were staring at Alex, too. Smiles were nearly always returned - as were my plentiful and corny Spanish greetings. All while working with great hardship. I've never seen older or younger people working with anywhere near the same intensity. Very impressive and humbling at the same time.

My final day was spent alone, as Alex had a project to work on. I decided to try my luck with the famous chicken buses and take a day trip to the old capital, Antigua. They told me the chicken bus wasn't going to be very full at the time of day I was departing, and I was the second person on the bus so I believed them. A few more people got on as we left the station, but not many at all. These chicken buses are incredible! Old school buses from the USA that have been mechanically renewed, and artistically improved. Each one is different, with heaps and heaps of style and character.

Lots of bright colors, shiny chrome and stainless steel, dedications to Jesus, and rockin music! As we pulled out of the station, our bus was rockin the Spanish version of YMCA – and as the driver negotiated traffic, he danced their version of YMCA! It was amazing! I want my own chicken bus, badly! We ended up driving quite slowly for 30 minutes, picking up person after person. It wasn't long until there were three people to every seat, and shoulder to shoulder folks in the aisle. Is this what not too full looks like?

By now, I'm used to being stared at, as people are very curious. I love this opportunity to say hello and practice my Spanish – and make them smile with my sexy accent. I nodded at one guy who was staring at me on the bus and he shyly said hello. When I got off the bus, he approached me to ask about my story – why I was there, where I lived, what I was doing, etc. It felt quite out of character and beyond the typical stares, but I indulged as I prefer to share experiences with other people.

Carlos asked if I would like some company for the day and he showed me around the city while telling me as much as I could understand. My Spanish is nowhere near as awesome as my Bulgarian, but I managed to survive four or more hours of very rough conversations.

He showed me some great places in the city and I eventually ended up inviting him to lunch. He asked what I liked and I told him that I like it all. I wanted to try what the locals eat so he took me to a hole in the wall for lunch. We got two big plates of delicious meats, beans, rice, and salad. I paid cause I'm super nice - $5 for the whole thing! I thought he had clung to me at the bus station to eventually rob me or for a free meal - but even after lunch, he hung out with me for another couple hours. There's also the possibility that he found me attractive and wanted my number. Whatever. Bottom line is, he was a super nice guy that I got the pleasure of spending time with because for a short time I got to slip back into the backpacker lifestyle - with an open and curious mind to explore anything that presents itself!

More of my pictures are here: Here! But my experience has been very touristy. If you're curious about the wonders of Guatemala, I encourage you to explore my dear friend, Rainbow's, blog about her work with the indigenous populations: Here!

A Guy In Copacabana!

New Year’s Eve in Rio de Janeiro was spectacular! It was an incredible party that was just one part of an epic adventure in Brazil! I was so impressed by this city that I can’t imagine not returning.

This was my second date with Angela, an Australian gal I met in Spain in 2008. We’ve e-flirted for years and finally decided to hang out again in Hawaii last August. We had a great time and I decided to invite her to Rio for NYE. She accepted, and we had a blast!

We stayed right in the middle of Copacabana, two blocks from the beach. We had an apartment on the 12th floor, with Jesus Christ right outside the window. 

It was super hot while we were there. Even though it was overcast for a lot of the time, the temperatures never really dropped below 90, and got much hotter in the heat of the day. I didn’t do well with the heat. Even the last month in Costa Rica, I’ve been suffering in 80-85 degree heat. It seems my body isn’t acclimating well - or maybe it’s just remember last winter and expecting something like that again. Anyway, we wouldn’t have survived without air conditioning. And the beach. 

The beach at Copacabana was great! There was a boardwalk stretching the whole distance of the beach. It must have been about three miles worth of beach, and it was constantly full of sunbathers, tourists, locals, and people selling all kinds of crap. So many people! So many beautiful people! You couldn't walk more than 20 feet without falling in love! Again and again! That was awesome! But... There were also a lot of ugly people. They were entertaining in their own way, though. Bottom line is, there were tons of people! There were people playing soccer, people playing volleyball, people playing volleyball without using their hands, which made the people playing the normal way look like wussies. The beach was so heavily populated with action, you couldn't see through the crowds to the surf, though you could hear it. And Ipanema was even more crowded! So, we stuck to Copacabana.

Once we negotiated through the hoards of people, and claimed a little piece of sand, the chaos turned into the best people watching ever! So much happening! It was fantastic! The only drawback to these beaches was the very strong currents in the water. I sat and watched a bunch of people in the surf up to their knees and thought they were being silly because there were some fantastic, big waves to play in, only 20 or 30 feet farther out. I decided to be the idiot tourist that showed the locals how to play in waves. Until I got in the water. What a current! The knee thing was a good guideline to keep from getting sucked out to sea. In fact, we saw a group of four get sucked out and had to be rescued by helicopter! It was really, really cool! Until the helicopter set them on the beach right in front of us and the wind from the blades blew everyone's belongings way up the beach – and sandblasted a burn on everyone's bodies! Pretty intense! I wanted to go for a helicopter ride, but Angela wouldn't let me. Probably for the better.

Along the whole length of the boardwalk were little huts that sold drinks and food. This is where we hung out when the sun got too hot, or when the sun went down, or when we needed any kind of other excuse for food and drink.

The food in Rio was incredible. Everything we ate was delicious. Everything - The cheap street food, the food from the beach huts, the proper restaurant food, even the stuff at the grocery store was super delicious! The rockin flavors didn’t stop! And we washed down their goodness with my new favorite drink: Caipirinha! I can’t pronounce it either - nor can I remember the name of the booze used to make it: Cachaca. They are sort of like Brazil’s version of Mexico's margarita. Sorta. They were refreshing from ice, sweet from sugar, sour from lime, and fun from alcohol! They were outstanding! We drank, and drank, and drank! And used the good food when we needed breaks. 

The New Year's Eve celebration in Rio is one of the biggest and best in the world. And we were right in the middle of it. There were two stages set up in Copacabana, on the beach, with lots of live music. I was expecting to dance my brains out, but the party on the beach – outside of the stage zone – was much more interesting. We met a bunch of people, shared stories and drinks, and watched an incredible fireworks show from several barges just off shore. The tradition is to wear white on NYE to symbolize purity from wiping your slate clean and starting over fresh! I liked it cause I looked really great! 

Tried to do a couple touristy things cause we had lots of time. Tried to go see Jesus Christ but our first attempt failed because he sold out. You have to buy train tickets that take you up to the top of His mountain and they sold the last tickets for 19:30 while we were in line at 12:30. We tried again a couple days later, getting there earlier, and waited in line for only an hour and a half. But, then we had to wait three hours for our train... It was a hot, sunny day until we boarded the train, at which point it was just hot... We got to the top, and all we could see were clouds. Jesus Christ! We did have luck getting to the top of Sugar Loaf, though, and it didn't take us an entire day! 

Tried to go see Santa Teresa, a particular neighborhood of Rio that is supposed to be really wonderful. Although we failed, this was actually the highlight of my Rio adventure: getting mugged.

We had two guide books that both instructed us the same: Go to the whatever metro stop and catch some tram from there. When we came out of the metro, there were no trams to be found. We searched and searched. We even pulled out a map – which is something you should NEVER do! Nothing says vulnerable like advertising that you're lost. Anyway, we ended up lost in a place we probably shouldn't have been.

We crossed a street and I nodded at a guy walking by to let him know I acknowledged his presence. I do this everywhere. It's a great way to establish that you are aware of your surroundings. We walked down the road a bit, and saw this guy cross ahead of us and hop the barrier. He then pretended to be picking a flower as we walked by. Just a few steps passed that, he grabbed Angela's bag. Our water and guide books were in there! She yelled, “Drop the bag!” and held tight as I turned around to see what the hell she was talking about.

I saw the guy pulling on the bag and was really confused. This was obviously our bag so he must have been mistaken. Or maybe he wanted directions? This is how my brain works... Always wanting to give the benefit of the doubt. He started loudly repeating, “No hay problema” as I grabbed the bag with my left hand and yelled, “No!” twice, in my best angry voice, though I was really confused and not angry at all.

Logically, I could see he was robbing us, but I wanted that to be verbally disclosed before I reacted. Adding to my confusion, was that I could see fear in his eyes as clearly as I could see the sky was blue. He was a grab-and-run thief, but when Angela didn't let go, I think his plan fell apart and he didn't know what to do except yell that he didn't want any trouble while hoping we would be scared and let go of our belongings. Well, that didn't happen.

I started to cock back my right hand, but he grabbed my wrist. I broke his grip and held up my fist as if to let him know that consequences were coming. I didn't want to hit anybody – I'm not aggressive enough for that type of thing. Plus, he hadn't hit me first. But he wouldn't let go of our bag so I punched him in the face.

It felt amazing! I'd never hit anyone before and didn't really know what to expect – but I liked it! A lot! I didn't hit him as hard as I could because I still wasn't “into” the situation – and in giving the benefit of the doubt, I wanted to give as many warnings as possible. But, he still didn't let go. Okay, enough was enough.

He left himself wide open so in quick succession, I kicked him hard in the groin and saw him bend at the waist, and then I punched him hard in the face again! Loved it! That knocked his grip loose from our bag and he bolted away, but not before grabbing Angela's necklace and pulling it from her neck. She said it was an old, beat-up necklace, not even worth five bucks when it was new. I scolded her for not wearing nicer things to impress me and then asked if she was okay. She was. Only joking about the scolding part.

The whole thing happened in a flash and my adrenaline was really pumping! I cursed myself a bit for not doing more on a physical level. By the time I got into the situation, I was expecting a fight and was waiting for him to attack so that I could counter as I had been trained. But he just wanted to grab and run – he didn't want a fight – and he certainly didn't want to get punched in the face. Too bad, Thief!

Many more pictures are here: Here!

For The Better, I Am A Changin!

When I left Costa Rica in 2009, I swore I would never return to that shit-hole of a country. But I had to find somewhere to go this winter, and it needed to be warm. My chaotic summer left me little time to explore options so I bit the bullet and decided to give Costa Rica and UPeace another chance. Plus, Oscar and Vero are here and I love them.

I anticipated that it would be difficult to meet people as the year has already begun and cliques had already formed. But, it didn't take long before I felt like one of the group. I've had many highlights: A choking Hiroki asking me for a sip of my drink - not realizing it was rum; fashion advice and dancing lessons with Mariana and Lorena; Spanish classes, cooking lessons, and family-like love at the Gathering House; potluck after potluck; beautiful bus-rides through the glorious mountain landscapes, and so so so many smiles!

I didn't know it at the time, but if you smile at someone in Costa Rica – they nearly always smile back! It's pretty incredible!

I took a 4th trip to the famous volcano, Arenal, for the hot springs. I still haven't been able to see the mountain on account of rain and clouds - but nothing really matters when you're sitting in hot river in the middle of the jungle, sipping on some low quality local rum with really great people!

It's not all beans and rice, though, there are some shortcomings. My apartment sucks ass! There are so many bugs and I gave away my DEET to a nice lady who gave me a ride home from the airport... For the first month, my legs from the knees down looked like I had chicken pox from all the bug bites! I went through two tubes of hydorcortisone in one month! Plus, everything in this country is way overpriced because of the expat influence. Won't keep me down, though. I changed my apartment and am now living with a wonderful gal from Venezuela and our apartment is so clean that I expect my chicken pox to clear up soon!

Bottom line is, I'm loving it here! Such a contrast from my first year here. The country hasn't changed any, nor has the university. The difference is me. I've changed! My bitterness is gone and my battery is charged - hello open mind and positive outlook! This is great! 

I'm uploading pictures here: Here!

I Got Doored Down, But I'll Get Up Again!

So, it's been more than half a year since I was tragically removed from my happy bicycle by an aggressive corner of a car door. I'm still alive, but the recovery has been much slower than what I would have liked; and considering the effort I've put out, I'm quite disappointed with the whole thing. People keep telling me how lucky I am, and it's hard to hear, but I guess I do quite appreciate being alive.

Another disappointing thing was the driver who hit me with his door. I'm sure he didn't intend to do it, but half a year after the fact, he still hasn't even apologized! In fact, in the moment, while I was on my back waiting for the paramedics, trying to be as still as possible in case there was a serious spine injury, I remember someone grabbing my right leg and gently moving it to one side. I went with it because I thought this person had a better perspective and was putting my body in a more straight position to avoid potential injury. He moved me just a bit - and then shut the car door... It was the driver moving me out of his way... Ass.

A week after my tragedy, once I was able to walk around a bit, I walked down to the paramedics station to thank the people who responded and tell them how much I appreciate what they do. On walking in, they immediately said it was good to see me up and moving around. I was so surprised they remembered me before I could say anything! So I asked them about that day, a week before.

One guy told me I had started going into shock when they arrived, which shocked me to hear. I asked him how he could tell, because I was conscious the whole time and remembered the whole event kinda well. He said that I began to ask the same questions again and again. Well... I do that anyway. =) Another guy jumped in to say that they were literally watching my pulse - because my jugular vein was completely exposed! All the flesh covering it had been ripped aside, leaving my neck muscles hanging out of my neck! I asked if they had pictures - and they apologized saying they were too busy saving my life. Maybe next time.

Anyway, the recovery process has been extremely frustrating and slow. After the surgery and many doctors, I saw a physical therapist who taught me all kinds of stretches and exercises, which I used a lot. I also started going to a massage therapist. Each massage was excruciatingly painful, but I always felt better afterward. For a while anyway, and then my neck will tighten up again. He ended up finding a problem in my spine where a couple of my cervical vertebrae were knocked out of place. So, I went to a chiropractor who managed to straighten me out after a handful of adjustments. I'm currently only seeing a massage therapist, and doing the stretches and exercises on my own, but I sure notice how the muscle tightens up if I go two weeks without a massage. Hoping this will be over soon - but that's been my hope since the beginning.

I tried riding my bike again, but had a couple panic attacks while passing some parked cars. In fact, I occasionally get overwhelmed with anxiety when I'm walking next to parked cars! I'm back in the gym again, and still smiling, but I do get treated differently. I constantly see people's eyes drop from my eyes to my neck in conversation. The people who ask, say things like, "Were you a pirate in your previous life?" or "Oh my god! What happened?!" Otherwise, I've overused the phrase, "Hey, my eyes are up here." rather than going into details about how I got hit by a parked car.

The good news is, I'm still really pretty.

Doored Down, In A Blaze Of Glory!

I was riding my bike home from the gym after just having had an awesome workout! The early evening air was incredible, and my whole being felt amazing! I turned west onto NW Thurman St at 21st AVE as I passed another biker. As I went through 22nd AVE, I could see the light turn green on 23rd and decided to put the hammer down and go for it. I was just two or three blocks away from a salmon dinner and a shower!

I picked up some speed, and without any warning, the door of a parked car flung open in front of me! There wasn't even an instant to react, but my super fast brain processes did this: Go left and try to avoid the door, but there is traffic to the left and hitting a door is less than going under a bus. So, I tried my best to avoid the corner of the door. I didn't have time to say anything, or brace for impact, or brake, or really anything at all. As I aimed for "not the corner" I must have grunted or began a grunt or something because I swear that corner moved.

My eyes closed as I hit the door with tremendous force. I felt it open up all the way as my body came to a complete stop before being flung back onto the ground. I'm pretty sure I was cussing and ready for a fight before my back even hit the ground, but once I was on my back, I realized I was hurt pretty bad.

Instead of attempting to kick the driver's ass, I pulled down my hoodie to expose my hurt neck to the driver. I kept repeating, "Is it bleeding? Is it bleeding?" I knew I was hurt pretty bad, but had no idea of the extent. My legs were flailing around as I writhed in pain, and within moments there were five or six people around me. One guy was directing traffic, one guy called an ambulance, a couple guys tried to calm me down, and one guy even held my hand and told me everything was going to be okay.

I kept my back and head as still as possible as I tried to accept the pain and calm down. But my neck hurt an incredible amount. I told the people who had stopped that I'd be fine, and I just wanted to take my backpack off, as I was still awkwardly on top of it. They told me to just lay there and be still and that help was on the way. I asked again if I was bleeding and they said no, I just had a pretty bad scratch. Well, I thought that was no big deal so I tried to get them to let me take off my backpack again. No dice. "Just don't move. The ambulance will be here in three minutes." The one guy holding my hand kept patting me on my chest and telling me to hang in there and that everything is gonna be ok. It sounded like an awful lot of fuss for just a scratch... Then one guy leaned over into my view (all I could see was sky), and said it looked like I'll have to get a couple stitches before they send me home.

The paramedics showed up and were on me like a fly on stink. Without any pleasantries, one of them was cutting off my clothes. "Hold on, guy, this is my good hoodie," I joked. My poorly-timed humor certainly doesn't take breaks for emergencies. They got me onto a stretcher as I asked questions about my bike and my backpack. It's a huge mystery to me how my bike didn't end up underneath me. I heard one paramedic say it was "over here next to my iPod," his voice coming from way in front of the car. The ambulance ride to the hospital happened in a flash of sirens and offers of morphine from a paramedic who told me he was using his calm voice on purpose.

Once in the emergency room, I was surrounded by a team of 12 doctors, surgeons, nurses, anesthesiologists, and a social worker. They peppered me with questions and felt around my body before deciding to put me through a CAT scan. One nurse told me to relax my abs so she could detect injuries. The thing is, I had a huge can of chili for lunch which set me up with some terrible gas, and I really needed to take a dump! I had been holding it in since I left the gym and it was becoming evermore uncomfortable. They rolled me into another room for a CAT scan and the cute doctor told me she was gonna roll me over on my side and feel down my spine and then put her finger in my bottom. "Ummm, what?!" She repeated herself, exactly. I was terrified that her probing would be like popping a balloon! So, I resisted her finger to my best ability, but she won. Luckily, I didn't deflate.

Back in the ER, they broke the news to me that they were gonna put me to sleep in order to clean the wound and stitch it back up. I swallowed my pride and explained my chili/gas concerns, knowing full well, that I wouldn't be able to hold anything back once the good chemicals took me off to la-la land. The nurse laughed and helped me use the toilet. No big deal. They then took me to the operating room where I apologized again to the operating team for my gym sweat and my bad gas. The anesthesiologist leaned over and said, "I usually blame that on the patient anyway."

I was under the knife, and the needle & thread, for about an hour and a half. After I had woken up, and regained my better sense, the surgeon explained to me that the corner of the car door had severed my right sternocleidomastoid. He continued, and said that it was only a couple millimeters away from cutting my carotid artery... A real live brush with death. He told me that I was really lucky, and I told him that I had a different idea of what luck is. But... He's right. When I play the moment over again in my head, it freaks me out beyond a mentally healthy level. Don't know what to make of that yet.

They told me they couldn't sew the two ends of the muscle back together... They had to sew the muscle to my fascial tissue and sew the fascia back together. Then they sewed down the subcutaneous layers, and finally closed my skin. They said they didn't keep a count of how many stitches they used, but that there are three layers of stitches. With all that sewing going on, the two ends of the muscle are just supposed to develop some scar tissue that will hold them together, I guess. They said my sternocleidomastoid would have about 85% of the tensile strength that it once had. I told him that was pretty good because my 100% was really awesome!

I was finally released from the hospital, about 24 hours after I was admitted. I'm super impressed and thankful that there were so many good souls who stopped to help when I went down. I'm super grateful for the various teams that got the opportunity to work on me and save me. And, I'm eternally thankful for my sister, who was pretty much by my side, taking care of me, the whole time! It's looking like I'll have a pretty gnarly scar on my neck for a while to remember it all, as well as some very compassionate pain killers in my pocket to forget once in a while.

And although I'm pretty medicated in this picture, here's proof that flirting with death can't take away my smile! So, some time away from work, some time away from the gym, some time away from fun, and I'll be as good as lightly used!

А Може, Може, Може Много Да Ме Липсваш!

This year's winter Peace Corps Response project was, again, a success. Bulgaria and the Peace Corps seem to bring the best out of me. They are like the perfect ingredients for the perfect meal, and I'm like Julia Child, throwing food around everywhere and creating magnificence! And it is such a delicious experience!

It wasn't easy this year. My first month, I was drunk and deathly sick. The second month, I was just drunk (these are the consequences of integration – and I'm good at it!). =) During the last 6 weeks, I worked 12 to 14 hours per day, 6 days per week! It was so intense, and I was so exhausted! There were many hurdles, but in the end I feel that my accomplishments were very satisfying. The following are results this winter's 3.5 month term in the Peace Corps Response program:

• Delivered nine dynamic and engaging presentations on the topic of plastic pollution to over 300 people, including 270 students at six different schools, and 40 adults, including teachers, youth workers, and members of different organizations. Six of these presentations were in Bulgarian, while the other three were in English. 
• Collected more than 1000 plastic bottle caps, bamboo skewers, and wine corks from four local businesses and used them to create two small trash cans designed to fit the most common size of plastic bags used by local markets and shops. The purpose was to demonstrate that waste can be used as a resource. These products were used in the plastic presentations as a model for the workshop that followed. 

• Organized collaboration between the host organization, the Youth Center of the Varna Municipality, and a US-based non-profit, Trash for Peace, to train 90 students and 25 teachers and youth workers through 5 workshops focused on how to make a recycle bin from waste materials. The workshops were activities that required innovation and creativity in order to construct something useful from materials that were perceived as useless. 

• Trained host counterpart on basic video editing with two different programs so that he has the capacity to make instructional videos. The usefulness of such videos was demonstrated by creating a do-it-yourself video that instructs to how make a small trash bin from waste products, as well as a video outline of the plastic presentations and workshops. 
• Recruited and coordinated a team of 10 volunteers to translate, format, and explain 88 recipes for producing alternative, non-toxic cleaning chemicals and cosmetics at home. The idea was to produce a book that presents a very simple to follow, easy to understand collection of do-it-yourself projects for the purpose of protecting your health, your family, and your environment. The book was published in the ISBN system and 500 copies were printed. 
• Delivered two presentations on the topic of toxics in the home to 50 people. One presentation was to a large group of parents at a local kindergarten, the other was to members of the host organization. Both presentations were in Bulgarian and encompassed the dangers of cleaning chemicals in the home, as well as cosmetics. The book of 88 recipes, as mentioned above, was presented, for free, to all those in attendance. The second presentation was on the level of a training in order for the hosting organization to continue presenting on this topic, and distributing copies of the book that was created.
• Accepted an ongoing position with the host organization as a Member of the Board, and Webmaster of the English half of the website. 

My biggest hurdle this year came from the 10-person, volunteer team I assembled to create a book of alternative products. Everyone did their part, except one guy – the one responsible for producing the final product. I gave him everyone's hard work, and he gave me a promise it would be done. And at the final moment, when I couldn't wait for the books any longer, he gave me excuses! Excuses as to why it wasn't ready. He never owned his failure, he just lied and lied. It was awful. He single-handedly ruined everyone else's work. Well, almost.

Iliyan always has a backup plan. Unfortunately, his backup plan was expensive – and the host organization bared the burden of the cost, for the failure of one failure. I wanted to tell that guy exactly how horrible he was... but cultural practices, and perhaps a bit of common sense, directed me away from expressing myself. Instead, we just tucked away the lesson we had learned and moved on. Very frustrating.

The books were finished in time for two presentations, and while I had wanted to give a lot more – I trained the folks in the office to be able to present and distribute these books without me. That's probably better in the long run anyway, but not nearly as fun for me!

Overall, it was a very difficult winter – crazy cold, lots of work, lots of hard work, a lack of good/healthy food, and something else I wasn't expecting: I miss Portland. I think I'm starting to feel established there, and I think I kind of like it. It will be truly great to be back amongst family, friends, and colleagues. That's not to say I'll never leave again. I really want to go somewhere warm next winter! However, as the Peace Corps prepares to leave Bulgaria for good in 2013, next winter will be my last chance to be a Peace Corps Volunteer in Bulgaria. And that's something heavy on my mind. We'll see. I have some time to decide.

One of my last moments in Varna was spent with a dear friend, Darina. We have a special relationship and I feel very close to her. I knew she would have a hard time with my departure as she'd been telling me so for the last month. I kept the moment lighthearted and showed her a funny website with a collection of short clips of pets doing goofy things. We laughed a lot, as we do, but as the time passed, she saddened and was on the brink of tears. I gave her a giant hug and told her to watch those stupid animals and think of me. With that, I left, saying that I'll return again – and I will.

Israel Ironic... Don't You Think?

My short trip to Palestine was heart wrenching and overwhelming. The nausea I experienced through utter disgust was worse than any food poisoning episode in all of my world travels. Israel is a terrible, horrible, awful place. 

I went to visit my good friend Trevor, who has been working in Ramallah for over a year. Our first night was an ex-pat house party in the center of town. It was a good time, with lots of idealistic, passionate, and good people from all over. I was quite surprised to see how many expats, working on development, there were in Ramallah. But as each day brought new insights, I quickly learned that this is a place in desperate need of help.

My mind-blowing, eye-opening adventure began with a trip to Bil'in to watch the weekly Friday protest for peace. Unfortunately, our speed in the morning was not conducive to attending regularly scheduled events. We arrived just after it ended. We took the opportunity to have a peaceful look at the barbed wire which protects the settlement wall from the barbaric indigenous people.

Every Friday, for years, Palestinians gather in Bil'in and have a peaceful march to the new edge their property, where they make noise until Israeli Defense Force (IDF) soldiers fire tear gas into the crowd to break it up. These peoples' land was stolen from them by Israeli Settlers, who erected a wall to keep them out, and protect it constantly with IDF soldiers. The people of Bel'in are simple farmers, and lost a lot of their farm land with the development of the settlement. It's easy to understand their discontentment and even their meager attempts at retaliation. But in the end, the settlement is huge, the wall is concrete, and the sharp barbed wire holds signs that say trespassers are endangering their lives. The rocks thrown in frustration and retaliation to the tear gas are hardly effective against high-tech body armor, and a thick concrete wall - and they certainly don't warrant the gun fire that occasionally follows. Recently, a young boy was shot in the chest and killed for throwing rocks at soldiers. It's a messed up situation.

Not much grows in these rocky fields; mostly patches of grass, but there are some olive trees and a few grapes. For all the Bible-talk of this being fertile land, I'm pretty unimpressed with its agricultural growing potential, and generally astounded that people are fighting over the land in the first place. Maybe it's because I come from the Willamette Valley, or maybe I just can't understand the magnitude of the conflict here. Since 1967, more than 800,000 Palestinian olive trees have been cut down by Israelis for "security reasons" or random vandalizing by Israeli Settlers, resulting in a loss of approximately $55 million from the Palestinian economy! It's quite clear that their motivation is to destroy the land in hopes that it will then be undesirable to the Palestinians. I'm not good at understanding social injustices like these, but I understand perfectly well the environmental impacts of intentional desertification of the land. What a stupid tactic! I just can't get over this method of displacing people for eventual land annexations...

That evening we went into Jerusalem and walked around the old town until we came upon the Wailing Wall.

It was a giant stone wall that was supposed to be the only remaining piece of something from someone important. Religious significance is really lost on me. Anyway, it was a Friday night, the night Jewish people party and welcome in their holy day, Saturday. Outside, there were large groups - dancing and singing - it looked like a really fun time! I wished I knew what they were singing! Trevor and I found an indoor-room that attached to the wall and went in. As we entered, the fun and dance and song gave way to intense prayer. I've never seen anything like it. Shoulder to should guys in funny hats and hair were chanting as loud as they could.

Eyes closed with intense looks on their faces, their bodies would sway and rock back and forth with passion. I was awestruck! I felt like I was floating through a room filled with things that my mind just couldn't possibly comprehend! Trevor turned back to me and said, "Wow, dude! Shit just got real!" Haha! That brought me back to having control of my feet and we walked through the masses to observe for a few moments before deciding we probably weren't allowed in there.

On Saturday, we took a road trip to Hebron to watch the weekly intimidation march of the Settlers. These settlements are large communities whose locations are a blatant violation of international law. A new one pops up every now and again as Israelis find new Zionists who want to live on the frontier. In fact, their locations are very strategically planned out. As you monitor their coming into existence, you can see, quite clearly, there's an end game. Right now, that game is breaking up the West Bank into sections, which restrict indigenous movement as roads "have to" be built and protected. Ultimately, I believe that Israel would like to see the Palestinian population living on reservations of sorts, isolated and out of the way. Ah, that brought things close to home. Just because my country was founded that way, doesn't make it right.

In Hebron, a group of Settlers and Birthright tourists march through the old town, literally surrounded by a human shield of IDF soldiers - guns at the ready.

Said guns, btw, and other military supplies are given to Israel as aid every year by the USA to the tune of 3 billion USD! Birthright tourists are people who are given a free trip to Israel for being Jewish.

The hope is that they will be recruited to the Israeli cause, and maybe even to living in a settlement.

During the tour, Palestinians are forbidden to pass through their own streets as tour guides spout biased historical stories that justify their fanaticism.

It's true that the Jewish people have been severely oppressed at several points throughout history. Trevor brought up an interesting point that a Jewish state has every right to exist, but it should exist in Germany - where they were most recently victimized, displaced, and exterminated. But I'm missing the logic that affords them an excuse to kill and steal from the Palestinians who were just trying to live their lives in peace? Being oppressed doesn't justify oppressing someone else.

With the situation as it is, the Palestinian people are remarkably tolerant. I spoke with a number of them who speak of the situation matter-of-factly. They don't talk about hate or wanting to kill - they just want to live their lives. One young Palestinian man, 20, was clubbed upside his head when he was a boy for walking down the road. He had to have stitches in his eye. More recently for him, he was trying to cross town to get to his university for an exam. He was detained by the IDF for three hours and missed his test despite his pleas. I saw kids being detained by these soldiers - for no good reason at all. Just to inconvenience them and make life hard on them so they'll leave the city. These people are harassed daily, but it's the Settlers who are the real dicks.

International observers often have to help Palestinian children walk to and from school because Settlers will throw rocks at them. "They're crazy fuckers," said Trevor, as he once again brought me back from emotional overload. Sadly, I'm sure these stories are endless - this is just what I've encountered and it was disgusting.

Perhaps even more disgusting than the queasiness I got from being on the other end of so many guns, was the extreme candor with which the Settlers and Birthrighters approached the situation. "Take lots of pictures" they would taunt - completely oblivious to the fact that we were looking at them like savage beasts in the wild.

A few of them continued to try to engage us with crude arrogance in a display of power over another group of human beings. It made my blood boil. I understand an appreciation for history, and I appreciate efforts made at maintaining a culture, but I can not see how demeaning a group of people can ever do anyone any good.

The taxi driver that took me back to the airport early Monday morning was a friend of a friend. He was a really good guy that tried really, really hard to have a conversation with me with his limited English. In order to not have problems at the IDF checkpoints, he instructed me that I flagged him down on the street at 3am and that I had been staying in Jerusalem at the Avrahim Hostel. Those are easy hoops to jump through. Along the way, we talked a bit about travel and he said he's not allowed to have a passport. Traveling is my biggest passion - one that I wish everyone could experience, but these are the rules for Palestinians. =(

The first checkpoint was met with only mild hurdles. The second was a breeze. At the third one I got grilled by an IDF soldier. How long have you been here? Where EXACTLY did you go? Where did you stay? It's really nerve-wracking having some young punk with an American-made M16 give me the 3rd degree. I hated it! When we got the approval to pass, I complained to Basim, the driver, that even though there were no more checkpoints before the airport, I still had to go through all the security in the airport! His response was, "I live here. This is my life." I don't think I've ever been a more insensitive jerk. My heart sank. Israel is a terrible, horrible, awful place.

Wiggity Wiggity Waste!

During one of my final days at work in Portland this winter, a customer came in with some light bulbs, some batteries, and a camera. Often times people don't understand what kind of waste goes to the hazardous waste disposal facility. Actually, I think this is a reflection of how little people understand of waste in general. Anyway, just so every knows, cameras are not hazardous. This particular camera caught my eye. It looked new, I recognized the model, and it was really nice. I told her she could simply throw it away with the rest of her solid waste at home, but asked if it was still under warranty. I continued, by asking what was wrong with it, maybe it could be repaired? She said it started out being a great camera, but just stopped working one day. She said she didn't want to bother with repairing it because it's already been replaced. Fine. One of my favorite coworkers, Craig Lyons, the Salvage King, had found an old camera a week prior, and used some compressed air to blow dust out of its gears to get it working again. I thought I'd try the same. I told this responsible, yet slightly ignorant citizen, that I would relieve her of her burden of waste.

When I had a free moment, I flipped on the power switch, thumped it, blew on it, and then set it down cause it wasn't working. I went home thinking it was no big deal. I wasn't able to turn on a broken camera that someone was throwing away. Stranger things have happened. But, like many things, it wouldn't get out of my head. I was reminded of something a really weird guy told me one time, "The average person is pretty dumb, and half the population is worse off than that." It occurred to me that I wouldn't be able to notice if I fixed the camera unless it was getting power to turn on. So, when I returned to work, I dug the charger out of the trash, pulled the battery out of the camera, charged it up, returned it, and flipped the power switch to on so that I could begin "fixing" it. Well, the camera came to life and worked as it was designed to before any of my pokes and prods began. The only thing I could find "wrong with it" was that the battery was dead. Is that a good enough reason to throw it away? I think most people would say no. But obviously that lady didn't want it anymore - so it was just garbage to her. One person's garbage is another person's treasure. True, but it's how we manage this garbage and treasure that define our problem with waste.

To draw a contrast between societies, in very general terms, if a Bulgarian person saw someone throwing away a camera that worked just fine, they'd likely be thinking, "What an idiot. I could sell that to a guy I know!" But at the same time, if a Portlandian person saw someone throwing away a plastic bottle, they'd likely be thinking, "OMG! You're gonna kill a bird! Let's recycle that or make something useful from it!" One is not better than the other. The point is, the concept of waste. The problem is not that this camera lady is dumb. The problem is that there is a meme in our society that is responsible for very easy outlets for things we no longer want. But that outlet is not environmentally, socially, nor economically responsible. Waste is not just something that you don't want anymore. If something still has a use to someone, it's a resource.

To prove this point, I used my new position with Trash for Peace to create something wonderful from trash! Trash for Peace is an education based non-profit that collaborates with school groups to build recycle bins from “trash” to illustrate how creativity and innovation can solve the problem of waste. It's a great fit for Portland, but I struggled to make it fit in Bulgaria.

In fact, Bulgaria still does not have an infrastructure for recycling so making recycling bins didn't seem like a worthwhile endeavor. They have containers for collecting recyclable materials, they have recycling centers that process those materials; but they do not have a collection strategy, nor, most importantly, a mentality for recycling.

Many people in Bulgaria will tell you that recycling is a Gypsy job. What they mean is that the Roma dig through municipal dumpsters and collect things they perceive as having value, ie - paper, metal, etc.  Really, though, this is just an excuse so that they don't have to think about recycling anything, including items of lesser monetary value, like plastic and glass.

An example of the trash collection strategy.

Actually, many things are recycled in this way, but the waste management system as a whole leaves so much to be desired. The government is haphazardly trying to develop the existing system, but the giant disconnect between people and government is usually an impenetrable barrier. In the many small towns and villages of Bulgaria, waste collection does not happen on a regular basis and often runs out of funding. This is not perceived as such a big problem because, inevitably, someone will throw away their embers/ashes from their stove which catches all the garbage in the dumpster on fire. Waste incineration, albeit unintentional, is one of the main ways waste is managed here. 

An example of the disconnect between government and people can be seen below in a picture by Greg Kelly (Peace Corps Volunteer, 2005-2007), where the municipality of Sliven tried to implement a cheaper and more durable plastic garbage dumpster. It was a valiant effort, but obviously there was a misunderstanding. A big one. A misunderstanding that carried over to the introduction of a recycling program.

As I understand it, certain parts of Bulgaria initiated a municipal recycling program in 2005. The idea was to introduce waste separation in order to wrap people's heads around the idea of recycling. The municipalities put out some recycling containers into the streets, with no educational or marketing campaigns whatsoever. It's fairly easy to read the side of the container, though, to know what's supposed to go inside. Unfortunately, they didn't do anything else. It was explained to me that the plan was to have these containers in place for three years so people would be familiar with them, at which time they would be in a position to introduce some kind of collection infrastructure.

So, for three years people watched the municipal garbage man mix all of their separated recycling materials with their trash and haul it all to the landfill together. Okay, so it didn't take three years for people to give up on the idea because there was obviously no point in them separating things if it was all going to be mixed together anyway. It didn't take too long at all before these recycling containers became just containers.

This container is for plastic and metal but as you can see it's just filled with garbage.

This container is for paper and cardboard, but again, it just holds garbage.

With the pollution awareness campaign I ran last winter, I decided that I would encourage proper disposal and draw attention to the concept of waste as a resource. Instead of constructing a recycling bin out of plastic water bottles, I built a garbage can out of the lids from plastic water bottles. These lids are 100% unrecyclable in the USA, not because of the type of plastic, but because of their size. Where recycling fails, I will succeed in showing that they can still be used as a resource and not have to be waste! 

I spent three weeks collecting materials for this project. While in the restaurants and bars that I frequent, The Motor Bar, The Sea Wolf, and the Three Lions Pub, I explained what I wanted to do and asked if they would help me collect these materials instead of throwing them away. It was a great way for extra flirting time with the waitresses! After a week or so, I noticed that people at my gym, Fitness Classic, drank a lot of bottled water so I asked if they would collect for me, too. They ended up being the largest contributor, by far. Below is a series of self-explanatory pictures that illustrate the construction procedures

Three weeks worth of collecting waste from local restaurants and my gym.

This is not necessarily a safe technique I would promote.

By the way, that printer in the background is from 1996, and still working. Thanks, Hewlett Packard.

Built to hold the most common size of plastic bags handed out in the local stores.

100% of the materials I used to create this fully functional, super attractive garbage can, came from stuff that would otherwise have been considered waste. Everyday these things are thrown away, all across the world, but I've used them to create something aesthetically amazing and extremely useful! And it wasn't difficult. All it takes is wrapping one's head around the concept of waste as a resource and incorporating it into your way. And maybe a little tickling of your creativity to get it going again. In this case, an old plastic bottle cap is not so different than a fine digital camera with an uncharged battery. A mentality of waste is a waste of mentality!

I have 4 or 5 presentations in schools scheduled in the coming weeks. I will take my beautiful garbage can with me to show an example of my extreme innovation skills and push my agenda for treating waste like a resource. Hopefully I will inspire some kids to be more creative themselves.