Now when someone asks who has been to a jungle I can definitely say I have been there. I have camped for days before, but never in my life have I experienced something so magical and unbelievable. As we started out we were riding aboard four elephants. It was semi-thick jungle, but I think the elephants were more for the enjoyment than actual functionality. It was truly fantastic to be moving through the jungle on top of an elephant. But behold, it could not last! As we started moving up out of a river we were crossing the strap across the elephant’s front went SNAP! But really nothing happened, there were still two straps holding us on and our guide just asked us to get down while he fixed it. I spent the rest of the trek for that day walking, having had my fill of elephant trekking for the day.
We dropped off two of the elephants at a little pit-stop and grabbed some food from a village. We kept two elephants to carry our food though. (There was a lot of it, for about 16-18 people). We were moving a little sluggishly that day and so we were unable to reach our goal for the night and sleep in the jungle. However I am happy that we took that extra time, because we were able to stay in an amazing P'nong village. Upon arriving we stood a bit in a circle and played with a hacky sack. But the fun truly started when we started playing frisbee (yes mom, I CAN find places to play frisbee in every country).
At first all of the kids shied away from the crazy people throwing discs at each other, but eventually due to our cameras (taking a video of the kids and showing it to them. While that might not seem truly amazing to most of us these kids had probably never seen a digital camera, perhaps even a camera, in their entire lives. In J.K. Rowling’s words....."It’s just like magic!"), but most importantly it was due to Jon's fantastic work. I have never seen such an enthusiastic attempt at getting kids involved. By the end of the night we had probably every single boy in the village and a few of the girls playing frisbee. They were pretty good too. But one of the most important things I learned that night is even if you don't speak a word of P'nong (their language) and very little Khmai (Cambodian) it is still possible to interact and enjoy yourself with the local people. That night we stayed in a traditional P'nong house and I learned the words for hair (sok), cheek (bon), ear (jiett), feet (p'sai jou), pants (don't remember), and shirt (aol? don't really remember), and we taught them how to count (I think they knew a little though), dog, shirt, pants, ear, hair, etc.
The next day we trekked for four hours and reached a riverbank where we decided to camp out for the night. We took a little swim and cleaned off, ate some food with hand made chopsticks, and talked with our guides and learned quite a bit more. One of our guides sung to us and told us stories which were all fantastic.
The next day we went to another P'nong village and planted rice. I got taught a new card game and won 2 dollars (we were playing for 12 cents a game, so I won a lot). We talked a lot and the next day we got up early and left. We walked back (though this time our bags were on the elephants) and got back to where our car was. We found that our car was actually sunk into a ditch. So we waited for a few hours and the elephants pulled the car out. We all got in and drove back to town.
What I learned from all this (we lost a day in the beginning too) is that an experience is never lost; a new one is just gained. Now its time for me to go.
-Ben
Thursday, July 19, 2007
Trek to Ibel by Jessie and Elanor - SENEGAL
Our trek to Ibel took place on the second day of the week long trek.
We all awoke at 5:30 am expecting to leave an hour later to begin our hike. As usual, however, following true Senegalese custom, we ended up leaving about an hour late. After finally leaving, we trekked a basic 6 kilometers along the winding dirt road that leads to Ibel. Unfortunately for us, the 6k seemed to take forever due to our newly formed blisters and sores that were caused by our 15k hike the day before. Yet despite our discomfort, we reached the campement by about 10:00 that morning. At the campement, we rested for a little while before being sent to our individual homestay families that would take care of us for the night to come.
During our homestays, each of us encountered all sorts of experiences. We played with children, relaxed on woven mats, ate traditional Senegalese meanls, and interacted in various other ways with the family members.
That afternoon, Team Toubab (our nickname for the Senegal Dragons group) reunited at the campement and set off up the near by mountain to see an Anamist village's harvest celebration. None of us Dragons knew what to expect along the upwards hike, but we were delightfully surprised to find that we were walking nearly vertically the entire way. Our guide had unexpectedly decided to take us up the mountain along the path that the village people use: along the face of the mountain. Of course, we all felt like silly toubabs (the local word for white person) as we saw old women carrying giant logs and enormous buckets of water up the mountain on their heads with ease. They even made it up the mountain faster than we did without taking breaks, complaining, or dropping their items.
Once we reached the village at the top of the mountain, we experienced Senegalese culture once again as we waited for over an hour for the actual ceremony to begin. Once it did, however, we realized that it was worth waiting for. Two men dressed in local cloth and leaves, their heads covered by black cloth and an elaborate hat, danced and chanted in deep, rough voices, keeping rhythem perfectly with the bells on their fingers and canes. With all the exceitment of the festival, the time to decend down the mountain came all to soon.
On the way down the mountain, we visited the largest baobab tree in the area. It was enormous. This particular baobab was about the size of 10 oak trees combined. The sight of it was truely amazing and humbling.
To conclude the evening, Team Toubab ate a wonderful, Senegalese spaghetti dinner at the campement. Afterwards we were escorted back to our homestays for the night.
So there it is, yet another exciting day in our journey to Senegal.
We all awoke at 5:30 am expecting to leave an hour later to begin our hike. As usual, however, following true Senegalese custom, we ended up leaving about an hour late. After finally leaving, we trekked a basic 6 kilometers along the winding dirt road that leads to Ibel. Unfortunately for us, the 6k seemed to take forever due to our newly formed blisters and sores that were caused by our 15k hike the day before. Yet despite our discomfort, we reached the campement by about 10:00 that morning. At the campement, we rested for a little while before being sent to our individual homestay families that would take care of us for the night to come.
During our homestays, each of us encountered all sorts of experiences. We played with children, relaxed on woven mats, ate traditional Senegalese meanls, and interacted in various other ways with the family members.
That afternoon, Team Toubab (our nickname for the Senegal Dragons group) reunited at the campement and set off up the near by mountain to see an Anamist village's harvest celebration. None of us Dragons knew what to expect along the upwards hike, but we were delightfully surprised to find that we were walking nearly vertically the entire way. Our guide had unexpectedly decided to take us up the mountain along the path that the village people use: along the face of the mountain. Of course, we all felt like silly toubabs (the local word for white person) as we saw old women carrying giant logs and enormous buckets of water up the mountain on their heads with ease. They even made it up the mountain faster than we did without taking breaks, complaining, or dropping their items.
Once we reached the village at the top of the mountain, we experienced Senegalese culture once again as we waited for over an hour for the actual ceremony to begin. Once it did, however, we realized that it was worth waiting for. Two men dressed in local cloth and leaves, their heads covered by black cloth and an elaborate hat, danced and chanted in deep, rough voices, keeping rhythem perfectly with the bells on their fingers and canes. With all the exceitment of the festival, the time to decend down the mountain came all to soon.
On the way down the mountain, we visited the largest baobab tree in the area. It was enormous. This particular baobab was about the size of 10 oak trees combined. The sight of it was truely amazing and humbling.
To conclude the evening, Team Toubab ate a wonderful, Senegalese spaghetti dinner at the campement. Afterwards we were escorted back to our homestays for the night.
So there it is, yet another exciting day in our journey to Senegal.
Liberation from Samsara by David P. - SIKKIM, INDIA
Hello all,
On the 16th of July, the boys had a rare honor. We are the first group from Dragons that was allowed to stay with Nyingma Institute, an Institute devoted to the higher studies of Buddhism. Almost all of the monks there were in training for their BA or higher in Buddhist studies. The chants permiated every aspect of the Institute. The sound was even audible two floors above the main hall as we tried to listen to a Lopon give us an introduction to the place. After a short tour of a few classrooms, we were shown to the main hall. Each one of the monks chanted a different section of prayer, creating a discordent harmony. It is impossible to deny a higher power in a place such as this. I am honored to be part of the first group that has been allowed to this place, however I will willingly admit that I was terrorfied that I would commit a cultural faux paux. We were fortunate enough to engage in an exchange with two monks. In exchange for information about Buddhism and life in the institute, the monks quiered us regarding life in America and our own spirituality. This was difficult for me, as I am still uncertain of my own spiritual path. In the morning, we ate a simple breakfast. We were able to sample a Tibetan type of tea, which was essentially liquid butter mixed with salt. While the man who was studying to become abbot enjoyed the tea, I know it was personally not to my taste.
We were fortunate enough to observe a demanding life style, and though I know I could never become a monk, I was in awe of the devotion of the monks.
Until again,
David
On the 16th of July, the boys had a rare honor. We are the first group from Dragons that was allowed to stay with Nyingma Institute, an Institute devoted to the higher studies of Buddhism. Almost all of the monks there were in training for their BA or higher in Buddhist studies. The chants permiated every aspect of the Institute. The sound was even audible two floors above the main hall as we tried to listen to a Lopon give us an introduction to the place. After a short tour of a few classrooms, we were shown to the main hall. Each one of the monks chanted a different section of prayer, creating a discordent harmony. It is impossible to deny a higher power in a place such as this. I am honored to be part of the first group that has been allowed to this place, however I will willingly admit that I was terrorfied that I would commit a cultural faux paux. We were fortunate enough to engage in an exchange with two monks. In exchange for information about Buddhism and life in the institute, the monks quiered us regarding life in America and our own spirituality. This was difficult for me, as I am still uncertain of my own spiritual path. In the morning, we ate a simple breakfast. We were able to sample a Tibetan type of tea, which was essentially liquid butter mixed with salt. While the man who was studying to become abbot enjoyed the tea, I know it was personally not to my taste.
We were fortunate enough to observe a demanding life style, and though I know I could never become a monk, I was in awe of the devotion of the monks.
Until again,
David
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
From Yushu - by Ziva & Tawni - TIBET (Group B)
Tashi Delek,
Here is a note from Yushu, the first city, after about ten days of amazing experiences in the middle of Kham. First there was the orphanage school service project, than an unforgetable home stay in the Shechen monastery where each student stayed with an individual monk or family testing their language skills and gaining a more intimate experience of Tibetan life. The Shechen experience included:
- lessons on death and dying at the local sky burial site (Tibetan practice of giving the deceased's body to vultures, returning them to the earth and completing the cycle of life);
- an inspiring talk by Gangshar Rinpoche (the founder of Shechen orphanage school and one of the main rinpoches in the area) discussing the extreme adversity he encountered when recruiting support for the school ("a rinpoche should be building monasteries not schools or medical clinics!" many said);
- a hike through the upper hills to see where instructor Matjaz did a one-month retreat during his two years in this area, exploring the upper sacred caves and learning local wild edibles along the way (wild onions, rose hips, stinging nettles, clovers, plantain, mustard and dandelion greens, wild carrots, mints, pine needles, and curly docks).
After that we hiked to Ashuk, Tsar tsar monastery, for nine hours. It was a solo hike, which means we all had time to observe our surroundings and our feelings from the first half of the journey. It was time to contemplate the experiences, that left a strong impact on all of us. Hawks soared above us, red-breasted dipper-relatives accompanied us with their song, and marmots wrestled playfully along the side of the road. Even a young antelope came to see us off along the way. We wound our way along the Zachu river valley, passing mounds of mani stones with Tibetan prayers etched into their faces offering blessings for the well-being, happiness and realization of all sentient beings. The only thing, that made a thorn, was the fact, that Kate and Jack couldn't join the entire group on the hike, since their bodies were recovering from past sickness. They came to Ashuk by car, joining us for rests along the river sides.
In the "suburbs" of Ashuk there is a small temple of King Gesar, the ancient and revered warrior king of Tibet. The caretakers and monk Tashi welcomed us with open hands and open hearts. Sometimes it feels that the language is not a barrier at all, since we can share our experiences in silence, and tell even more than with words. Tashi made an impact on the whole group. He is 28 years old, with the history of 8 years of meditative retreat, the personification of simplicity, a humble monk, and a beautiful person.
Tashi brought us to an audience with the main rinpoche of the area who has been the primary driving force behind the tremendous amount of development in the area (a trend we have been seeing throughout our time in Kham) - founding schools, medical clinics and access to better resources for locals, as well as retreat centers, monastic colleges and nunneries for higher Buddhist studies and investigations. Students noted the stark contrast of a politically well-connected and active religious figure to those we have met earlier whose primary activity has been solely in the interaction with students and religious study resources or on smaller scale development projects.
Tashi also showed us around the temple grounds where butt, hand and knee prints of King Gesar's activities were imprinted in the rock - "here's where he killed the demon birds attacking the kingdom as a child," "here's the sword marks of when his step mother tried to kill him, but the blade just went through his body, leaving him unharmed.")
Tashi also led us up a hillside to see an old yogi, who lived almost his entire life in retreat, and gave us blessing prayers and sacred healing water. His eyes reflected the color of the sky and his wide toothless grin, grey scraggly beard and contagious laughter reminded all of Merlin the great.
Students used the greater part of our afternoon processing their home-stays, the creation of culture among a people and observations specific to Tibetan and that of our own American culture. They explored the universals common to all human kind, and the beliefs, practices and perspectives we share as communities and that separate us out as individuals. They also began processing their own mini "retreat" - the solo trek along the way - how do we use our time during these spaces of silence? what do our minds explore? where do our minds wander? what are the challenges and fears that come up? the great joys? the calm interludes in between?
But as everything ends, the staying with our hosts ended too. We drove for twelve hours, through some amazing grasslands, high mountain passes (throwing lungtas - prayer leafs into the air)and passing some horse festivals along the way.
We came to Yushu, where we are staying in a nice local guest house, and the most welcomed thing here were showers, and of course internet and local restaurants (not that the food was not good in the past ten days, but a primary diet of Tibetan tsampa (roasted barley flour) left taste buds yearning for variety). Students still insist tsampa is great, even with a brief indulgence of "the best french fries ever" in the temple of King Gesar - local cuisine by instructor-chef, Matjaz, including veggies and cheese (local yak cheese of course), delighting Americans and Tibetans alike.
Students have enjoyed exploring "the big city" here in Yushu - testing out their chinese language skills to order lunch on their own, checking out local department stores, experiencing a newer mix and customs of greater Muslim populations now, observing rituals at the local monastery on a cliff overlooking the city, and beginning their first lessons in Lhasa dialect Tibetan (even chanting the alphabet mantra-style on our hike up!).
So here we are, packing our stuff again, leaving Yushu, on an 18 hours bus ride to Xining. The teaching of impermanence is present all the time, and that is why, we try to make this experience the best experience of our lives, so that there won't be only the memory left behind, but an imprint in our understanding of the world and ourselves.
From Yushu,
Demo (be happy)
Tibet B group
Here is a note from Yushu, the first city, after about ten days of amazing experiences in the middle of Kham. First there was the orphanage school service project, than an unforgetable home stay in the Shechen monastery where each student stayed with an individual monk or family testing their language skills and gaining a more intimate experience of Tibetan life. The Shechen experience included:
- lessons on death and dying at the local sky burial site (Tibetan practice of giving the deceased's body to vultures, returning them to the earth and completing the cycle of life);
- an inspiring talk by Gangshar Rinpoche (the founder of Shechen orphanage school and one of the main rinpoches in the area) discussing the extreme adversity he encountered when recruiting support for the school ("a rinpoche should be building monasteries not schools or medical clinics!" many said);
- a hike through the upper hills to see where instructor Matjaz did a one-month retreat during his two years in this area, exploring the upper sacred caves and learning local wild edibles along the way (wild onions, rose hips, stinging nettles, clovers, plantain, mustard and dandelion greens, wild carrots, mints, pine needles, and curly docks).
After that we hiked to Ashuk, Tsar tsar monastery, for nine hours. It was a solo hike, which means we all had time to observe our surroundings and our feelings from the first half of the journey. It was time to contemplate the experiences, that left a strong impact on all of us. Hawks soared above us, red-breasted dipper-relatives accompanied us with their song, and marmots wrestled playfully along the side of the road. Even a young antelope came to see us off along the way. We wound our way along the Zachu river valley, passing mounds of mani stones with Tibetan prayers etched into their faces offering blessings for the well-being, happiness and realization of all sentient beings. The only thing, that made a thorn, was the fact, that Kate and Jack couldn't join the entire group on the hike, since their bodies were recovering from past sickness. They came to Ashuk by car, joining us for rests along the river sides.
In the "suburbs" of Ashuk there is a small temple of King Gesar, the ancient and revered warrior king of Tibet. The caretakers and monk Tashi welcomed us with open hands and open hearts. Sometimes it feels that the language is not a barrier at all, since we can share our experiences in silence, and tell even more than with words. Tashi made an impact on the whole group. He is 28 years old, with the history of 8 years of meditative retreat, the personification of simplicity, a humble monk, and a beautiful person.
Tashi brought us to an audience with the main rinpoche of the area who has been the primary driving force behind the tremendous amount of development in the area (a trend we have been seeing throughout our time in Kham) - founding schools, medical clinics and access to better resources for locals, as well as retreat centers, monastic colleges and nunneries for higher Buddhist studies and investigations. Students noted the stark contrast of a politically well-connected and active religious figure to those we have met earlier whose primary activity has been solely in the interaction with students and religious study resources or on smaller scale development projects.
Tashi also showed us around the temple grounds where butt, hand and knee prints of King Gesar's activities were imprinted in the rock - "here's where he killed the demon birds attacking the kingdom as a child," "here's the sword marks of when his step mother tried to kill him, but the blade just went through his body, leaving him unharmed.")
Tashi also led us up a hillside to see an old yogi, who lived almost his entire life in retreat, and gave us blessing prayers and sacred healing water. His eyes reflected the color of the sky and his wide toothless grin, grey scraggly beard and contagious laughter reminded all of Merlin the great.
Students used the greater part of our afternoon processing their home-stays, the creation of culture among a people and observations specific to Tibetan and that of our own American culture. They explored the universals common to all human kind, and the beliefs, practices and perspectives we share as communities and that separate us out as individuals. They also began processing their own mini "retreat" - the solo trek along the way - how do we use our time during these spaces of silence? what do our minds explore? where do our minds wander? what are the challenges and fears that come up? the great joys? the calm interludes in between?
But as everything ends, the staying with our hosts ended too. We drove for twelve hours, through some amazing grasslands, high mountain passes (throwing lungtas - prayer leafs into the air)and passing some horse festivals along the way.
We came to Yushu, where we are staying in a nice local guest house, and the most welcomed thing here were showers, and of course internet and local restaurants (not that the food was not good in the past ten days, but a primary diet of Tibetan tsampa (roasted barley flour) left taste buds yearning for variety). Students still insist tsampa is great, even with a brief indulgence of "the best french fries ever" in the temple of King Gesar - local cuisine by instructor-chef, Matjaz, including veggies and cheese (local yak cheese of course), delighting Americans and Tibetans alike.
Students have enjoyed exploring "the big city" here in Yushu - testing out their chinese language skills to order lunch on their own, checking out local department stores, experiencing a newer mix and customs of greater Muslim populations now, observing rituals at the local monastery on a cliff overlooking the city, and beginning their first lessons in Lhasa dialect Tibetan (even chanting the alphabet mantra-style on our hike up!).
So here we are, packing our stuff again, leaving Yushu, on an 18 hours bus ride to Xining. The teaching of impermanence is present all the time, and that is why, we try to make this experience the best experience of our lives, so that there won't be only the memory left behind, but an imprint in our understanding of the world and ourselves.
From Yushu,
Demo (be happy)
Tibet B group
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Letting Go and Feeling Proud by Zoe, PERU (4-week)
We all of us have just returned from an amazing trip to the Huayuash mountains. It was amazing in part because of the scenery- I can´t describe how arresting it is, nor will pictures do it justice- and in part because the group really became like one family. We smelled each other (yeah, we were pretty gross), slept sometimes four to a tent, carried each other´s backpacks, shared our precious water and snacks. It wasn´t a cheesy group bonding experience, it just genuinely felt like everyone was there for each other, that everyone knew it to be their responsibility to get each other home safe and sound.
Everything pales when you are climbing in the mountains. On our rest day, we all took about two hours of solo time to write in our journals and reflect on the past few weeks and our experiences in Peru. I spent the time reflecting on my last year, which was a year that Reilly aptly described as fear-mongering. We live in privileged homes; we´re all thinking about where we want to go to college; how we want to spend the rest of our life; what it means to be lucky and also to have responsibilites to other people. This last year was one, for me at least, of intense self-absorption and worrying about the future, fearing that I wasn´t going to get the grades or the test scores I wanted. Here, in Peru, none of that matters. These people work hard to eat- for them, a personal disaster is losing health, home, a job, not doing poorly on a standardized test that barely matters. I was concious of that before coming here but had somehow not internalized it, had somehow managed to rationalize that the things I have worried over and cried about mean so little in comparison with living and trying to survive in the Andes. And, in truth, living and trying to survive in the Andes is brutal. Nearly everyone had stomache problems, and it was cold out at night. But the stars were some of the most beautiful I´ve ever seen, and we experienced seemingly every weather condition of winter, from sun to snow. We´re living, eating, breathing from one moment to the next in a spirit of flexibility, moment snatching, and letting go. It has been challenging but we have amazing role models in our Peruvian guides, our homestay families, and the leaders who have trekked and almost carried us from place to place. I think it´s safe to say that we are all having a time that is incredible, not just because we´re being pushed in all directions outside our comfort zones or just that we´re all learning a lot, but that we all feel a sense of accomplishment in everything that we have done. We´re all learning that getting up a 15 and a half thousand foot mountain pass means a hell of a lot more than doing well on one´s SATS. I think we´re all finding that the real life experiences we have as dragons will define the kinds of thinkers and travellers we are becoming, and will push all of our everyday experiences back home back into focus. I have been pondering what it will be like to go back home to the relatively superficial world that is home, and how I will describe camping in fields of donkey poop surrounded by some of the most beautiful peaks and glacial lakes anywhere, how I could explain the power of watching a sheep get butchered, how it will feel to talk about being dirty and cold and hungry and some of the happiest I´ve been in a long time.
I am proud of every one of my group members, and, selfishly, proud of myself. I had a conversation the first night of the trek with one of my groupmates about letting oneself feel proud and content in one´s achievements, and how difficult that is in our home culture where good enough is always a little bit away. I think today, back at 10000 feet of elevation, with comfort food in our stomaches and clean for the first time in days- still no hot water!- we are all letting ourselves feel proud.
Love to all the people at home.
Everything pales when you are climbing in the mountains. On our rest day, we all took about two hours of solo time to write in our journals and reflect on the past few weeks and our experiences in Peru. I spent the time reflecting on my last year, which was a year that Reilly aptly described as fear-mongering. We live in privileged homes; we´re all thinking about where we want to go to college; how we want to spend the rest of our life; what it means to be lucky and also to have responsibilites to other people. This last year was one, for me at least, of intense self-absorption and worrying about the future, fearing that I wasn´t going to get the grades or the test scores I wanted. Here, in Peru, none of that matters. These people work hard to eat- for them, a personal disaster is losing health, home, a job, not doing poorly on a standardized test that barely matters. I was concious of that before coming here but had somehow not internalized it, had somehow managed to rationalize that the things I have worried over and cried about mean so little in comparison with living and trying to survive in the Andes. And, in truth, living and trying to survive in the Andes is brutal. Nearly everyone had stomache problems, and it was cold out at night. But the stars were some of the most beautiful I´ve ever seen, and we experienced seemingly every weather condition of winter, from sun to snow. We´re living, eating, breathing from one moment to the next in a spirit of flexibility, moment snatching, and letting go. It has been challenging but we have amazing role models in our Peruvian guides, our homestay families, and the leaders who have trekked and almost carried us from place to place. I think it´s safe to say that we are all having a time that is incredible, not just because we´re being pushed in all directions outside our comfort zones or just that we´re all learning a lot, but that we all feel a sense of accomplishment in everything that we have done. We´re all learning that getting up a 15 and a half thousand foot mountain pass means a hell of a lot more than doing well on one´s SATS. I think we´re all finding that the real life experiences we have as dragons will define the kinds of thinkers and travellers we are becoming, and will push all of our everyday experiences back home back into focus. I have been pondering what it will be like to go back home to the relatively superficial world that is home, and how I will describe camping in fields of donkey poop surrounded by some of the most beautiful peaks and glacial lakes anywhere, how I could explain the power of watching a sheep get butchered, how it will feel to talk about being dirty and cold and hungry and some of the happiest I´ve been in a long time.
I am proud of every one of my group members, and, selfishly, proud of myself. I had a conversation the first night of the trek with one of my groupmates about letting oneself feel proud and content in one´s achievements, and how difficult that is in our home culture where good enough is always a little bit away. I think today, back at 10000 feet of elevation, with comfort food in our stomaches and clean for the first time in days- still no hot water!- we are all letting ourselves feel proud.
Love to all the people at home.
Monday, July 9, 2007
Saturday, July 7, 2007
The Best Nap Ever by Cate Brown - PERU (4-week)
7/3/2007 1:14:38 PM The Best Nap Ever by Cate Brown
We stumbled out of the bus,
weary and wrinkled like wrapping paper
in the hands of a 5 year old.
Travel had taken it´s toll.
Our bags were stacked high on tarpulin.
Each on bulging with memories of home.
The oblique shapes nestled together
under our family´s laundry lines
whispering tales of two cultures as one.
We staggered about the courtyard,
lost, like newborn lambs.
As if our leges were but 2 years old
we collapsed on hard concrete.
And laying down on our sleeping pads,
like nestling in sunny grass,
we drifted off to sleep in Lima.
It was the best nap ever.
We stumbled out of the bus,
weary and wrinkled like wrapping paper
in the hands of a 5 year old.
Travel had taken it´s toll.
Our bags were stacked high on tarpulin.
Each on bulging with memories of home.
The oblique shapes nestled together
under our family´s laundry lines
whispering tales of two cultures as one.
We staggered about the courtyard,
lost, like newborn lambs.
As if our leges were but 2 years old
we collapsed on hard concrete.
And laying down on our sleeping pads,
like nestling in sunny grass,
we drifted off to sleep in Lima.
It was the best nap ever.
Guatemalan School Kids by Catherine - GUATEMALA (6-week group)
Guatemalan School Kids, by Catherine
7/7/2007 10:38:57 AM Guatemalan School Kids
So instead of writing a general overview of what we have been doing, I am going to talk specifically about one topic: Guatemalan school kids. The other day as part of my Spanish lesson I visited a local school in the pueblo of San Jose. Kids between three and six years of age attend the school, including the very cute son of my Spanish teacher. It is a small school with only two classrooms and maybe around fifteen or so kids per classroom. There are also only two teachers. It is interesting because the kids between three and five years of age are grouped into one classroom and those that have six years are in the other classroom. I guess the teachers figure that all of the students between three and five years of age know about the same amount and learn at about the same rate, although this seems really strange based on American educational norms. The kids are a bit shy at first but soon warm up to you. The day I visited the school, they finished classes a bit early (classes end at 11 am anyway). I guess it was a special day because there was a piñata in shape of a tiger that the kids got to break. Candy flew everywhere, and a few of the braver kids even came up to me and gave me some of their pieces. The teachers were also selling snacks: a Coke equivalent, juice made of a Guatemalan fruit and jello, both in little plastic bags that you had to bite into, and these strange looking, large fried things that the teachers covered in mayonaise, ketchup, and chile. I tried the juice, jello, and the fried thing -- although I couldn't finished the fried thing and ended up giving it to my Spanish teacher's kid -- who couldn't finish it either! My teacher suggested that I bring out the small soccer (football) ball to play with the kids and that was an immediate hit. The kids became a lot less shy and some started playing 'hide from the scary gringo and see if she comes after us'. Soon basically all of the kids were running from me as I pretended I was asleep, only to suddenly 'wake up', growl at them, and chase them around and try to give them tickles. Unfortunately, the kids eventually figured out it would be even more fun to tickle me and I ended up on the ground in the fetal position with a mound of kids ontop of me a few times. One of the funniest parts was near the end when I basically put the kids in 'tickle pairs'. I would look at one kid, point to another kid and say 'cosquillas a el (tickles to him)!' -- and off they went.
The kids at the school are from poor families in the town of San Jose. They live in shabby houses, wear relatively shabby clothing, and have the cutest sets of horrible teeth I have ever seen. Yet, from what I observed at the school, they are some of the happiest kids I know. Getting to know them made my day, and happily, getting to know me seemed to make their day too.
7/7/2007 10:38:57 AM Guatemalan School Kids
So instead of writing a general overview of what we have been doing, I am going to talk specifically about one topic: Guatemalan school kids. The other day as part of my Spanish lesson I visited a local school in the pueblo of San Jose. Kids between three and six years of age attend the school, including the very cute son of my Spanish teacher. It is a small school with only two classrooms and maybe around fifteen or so kids per classroom. There are also only two teachers. It is interesting because the kids between three and five years of age are grouped into one classroom and those that have six years are in the other classroom. I guess the teachers figure that all of the students between three and five years of age know about the same amount and learn at about the same rate, although this seems really strange based on American educational norms. The kids are a bit shy at first but soon warm up to you. The day I visited the school, they finished classes a bit early (classes end at 11 am anyway). I guess it was a special day because there was a piñata in shape of a tiger that the kids got to break. Candy flew everywhere, and a few of the braver kids even came up to me and gave me some of their pieces. The teachers were also selling snacks: a Coke equivalent, juice made of a Guatemalan fruit and jello, both in little plastic bags that you had to bite into, and these strange looking, large fried things that the teachers covered in mayonaise, ketchup, and chile. I tried the juice, jello, and the fried thing -- although I couldn't finished the fried thing and ended up giving it to my Spanish teacher's kid -- who couldn't finish it either! My teacher suggested that I bring out the small soccer (football) ball to play with the kids and that was an immediate hit. The kids became a lot less shy and some started playing 'hide from the scary gringo and see if she comes after us'. Soon basically all of the kids were running from me as I pretended I was asleep, only to suddenly 'wake up', growl at them, and chase them around and try to give them tickles. Unfortunately, the kids eventually figured out it would be even more fun to tickle me and I ended up on the ground in the fetal position with a mound of kids ontop of me a few times. One of the funniest parts was near the end when I basically put the kids in 'tickle pairs'. I would look at one kid, point to another kid and say 'cosquillas a el (tickles to him)!' -- and off they went.
The kids at the school are from poor families in the town of San Jose. They live in shabby houses, wear relatively shabby clothing, and have the cutest sets of horrible teeth I have ever seen. Yet, from what I observed at the school, they are some of the happiest kids I know. Getting to know them made my day, and happily, getting to know me seemed to make their day too.
From Karze: by Alex Schieferdecker - TIBET (Group B)
7/5/2007 1:46:31 AM From Karze: by Alex Schieferdecker
Tashi Delek from Karze! Our noble leaders are busy with running the trip, and keeping us healthy, so I have been tasked with writing this Yakity Yak.
Our 12 hour bus ride from Kanding to Karze was at times a tedious, but also often a spectacular affair. Whether it was the constant smoking in the back of the bus, to the loud, violent beeping of the horn, something got on almost everyone's nerves at some point. But we perservered, and were rewarded with some of the most striking scenery on the planet. Rolling green hills gave way to tall rocky mountains and stunning vistas as we closed in on Karze. The mountains got taller and taller until we spotted snow. Karze lies under these mountains.
Matjaz describes Karze best; "like the wild west". The majority of the city is mud houses, with the richest citizens able to afford brick. Men walk around with jeans and cowboy hats. Theft is a real problem here, and sometimes it can be a problem for the theives as well, and some people carry knives close at hand. (DOn't worry parents!) Upon arriving in the city, we checked in at a nice guesthouse which had been recomended by previous Tibet groups. We then traveled to the hot springs in the town. The accomidations were nothing the type we would expect to see in the states, but hot springs in Tibet are the same as hot springs in the rest of the world, and provided a wellcome oppertunity to clean up. After the springs and a quick dinner we headed off for a well deserved rest.
The following day (today), we grabbed breakfast, and ambled over to a local Orphan School, similar to the one where we will be heading. There, work had been done which was similar to the work we have planned. We didn't just sit around looking at insulation however... we immeadiately bonded with the children of the orphanage, and when their classes let out we began several games of the universal: Duck Duck Goose. Jack also recieved a crash course in Tibetain with one of the smaller classes. When the classes began again, we left the orphanage and trundled up to the local monastery. We came at the right time. In honor of the birthday of His Holiness (the 7th) the monks of many local monasteries were having a great 10 day festival which includes ceremony and competitions in debating. Many locals had come to watch this battle of wits. It truely is a spectator sport too!
In a debate, one monk will hold a tenent of his monastery and monks from the other monasteries will try to prove it false. After each exchange, the monk who has finished making his point will adamantly slap his hand into his palm. As the debates (and lunch and prayers after) continued, we moseyed around the monastery, and met some monks who told us about the fesatival. HH has said that he doesn't want the different sects of Bhuddism to fight, and in that spirit, the debates we saw today involve members of each different order, something which has hardly ever happened!
We cavorted down from the gompa (monastery in Tibetain) in the afternoon, and after lunch we got free time. That is where things stand right now.
Tomorrow we will take a short (4 hours) bus ride to the Shechen Orphanage School. After our touching experience at the orphanage school today, we can hardly wait to spend a week there. That will mean that there won't be any contact by Yak Yak however. So consider this the last message from our group for a week.
Tsering!
Tashi Delek from Karze! Our noble leaders are busy with running the trip, and keeping us healthy, so I have been tasked with writing this Yakity Yak.
Our 12 hour bus ride from Kanding to Karze was at times a tedious, but also often a spectacular affair. Whether it was the constant smoking in the back of the bus, to the loud, violent beeping of the horn, something got on almost everyone's nerves at some point. But we perservered, and were rewarded with some of the most striking scenery on the planet. Rolling green hills gave way to tall rocky mountains and stunning vistas as we closed in on Karze. The mountains got taller and taller until we spotted snow. Karze lies under these mountains.
Matjaz describes Karze best; "like the wild west". The majority of the city is mud houses, with the richest citizens able to afford brick. Men walk around with jeans and cowboy hats. Theft is a real problem here, and sometimes it can be a problem for the theives as well, and some people carry knives close at hand. (DOn't worry parents!) Upon arriving in the city, we checked in at a nice guesthouse which had been recomended by previous Tibet groups. We then traveled to the hot springs in the town. The accomidations were nothing the type we would expect to see in the states, but hot springs in Tibet are the same as hot springs in the rest of the world, and provided a wellcome oppertunity to clean up. After the springs and a quick dinner we headed off for a well deserved rest.
The following day (today), we grabbed breakfast, and ambled over to a local Orphan School, similar to the one where we will be heading. There, work had been done which was similar to the work we have planned. We didn't just sit around looking at insulation however... we immeadiately bonded with the children of the orphanage, and when their classes let out we began several games of the universal: Duck Duck Goose. Jack also recieved a crash course in Tibetain with one of the smaller classes. When the classes began again, we left the orphanage and trundled up to the local monastery. We came at the right time. In honor of the birthday of His Holiness (the 7th) the monks of many local monasteries were having a great 10 day festival which includes ceremony and competitions in debating. Many locals had come to watch this battle of wits. It truely is a spectator sport too!
In a debate, one monk will hold a tenent of his monastery and monks from the other monasteries will try to prove it false. After each exchange, the monk who has finished making his point will adamantly slap his hand into his palm. As the debates (and lunch and prayers after) continued, we moseyed around the monastery, and met some monks who told us about the fesatival. HH has said that he doesn't want the different sects of Bhuddism to fight, and in that spirit, the debates we saw today involve members of each different order, something which has hardly ever happened!
We cavorted down from the gompa (monastery in Tibetain) in the afternoon, and after lunch we got free time. That is where things stand right now.
Tomorrow we will take a short (4 hours) bus ride to the Shechen Orphanage School. After our touching experience at the orphanage school today, we can hardly wait to spend a week there. That will mean that there won't be any contact by Yak Yak however. So consider this the last message from our group for a week.
Tsering!
Xin Chao by Jake Gatof - VIETNAM
7/5/2007 3:57:03 AM Xin Chao by Jake Gatof
As we finally overcome the long-lasting jet lag and overwhelming humidity we are all preparing to set out on our trek through the ethnic minorities of Vietnam. Yesterday was crazy as we tried to cram in so many different activities. Despite the fact that the constraints of time limited our ability to become truly immersed in each oppurtunity, we were able to gain some insight into the work of the Women's Union in Vietnam, and through the museum of ethnology, some insight into the ethnic minorities that make up 14% of the country's population. We also shared a lunch with our fellow high school students from Chu Van An which was an awesome time to communicate one on one with the students in our very limited Vietnamese. Before yesterday we spent time at Friendship village which provides housing, care, and education for kids effected by Agent Orange. Being there I was utterly ashamed to be American. Though at first my disgrace to be part of a country who directly caused these kids disabilties plagued my emotion, as the day continued, the ability to share even a basic smile with the kids was comforting enough to leave without burning an American flag. Though I left Friendship village initially with some form of comfort in the soft smiles of the kids, after visiting the U.S. embassy and having the representative tell us that the U.S. won't own up to the horrific effects of Agent Orange made me feel so utterly disgraced that I had no words to describe my stark feeling of anti-patriotism. Later that day we went to visit with Chuck Searcy who is a Vietnam Veteran who is the in-country leader of Project Renew, a charity program focused on the post-war clean up of Vietnam. While I walked in still enraged from the embassy, Chuck's humility, humanity, and humor allowed me to end the day on a note of hope and not disgrace. Today was a free day and I spent the morning working on my ISP in which I am focusing on combining Western and Eastern music. Though I was not as succesful as I hoped, I was able to see some of the traditional instruments of the country and even purchase a small bamboo flute to have with me in hopes of finding someone to play along with me as I play the guitar. In the afternoon the guys of the group shared the rest of the day with our Chu Van An counterparts. We shared in an intense game of laser tag being as they wanted to experience something western with us westerners, and we shared the similarly intense activity of bartering for various vietnamese and communist outerwear. Tomorrow we set off into the jungle for the trek, and tonight we will finally meet our 4th instructor Brad. Hope all is well back in the states. Marie we're all pulling for you to get here as soon as possible, can't wait.
Xin Chao from and to Hanoi,
Jake
As we finally overcome the long-lasting jet lag and overwhelming humidity we are all preparing to set out on our trek through the ethnic minorities of Vietnam. Yesterday was crazy as we tried to cram in so many different activities. Despite the fact that the constraints of time limited our ability to become truly immersed in each oppurtunity, we were able to gain some insight into the work of the Women's Union in Vietnam, and through the museum of ethnology, some insight into the ethnic minorities that make up 14% of the country's population. We also shared a lunch with our fellow high school students from Chu Van An which was an awesome time to communicate one on one with the students in our very limited Vietnamese. Before yesterday we spent time at Friendship village which provides housing, care, and education for kids effected by Agent Orange. Being there I was utterly ashamed to be American. Though at first my disgrace to be part of a country who directly caused these kids disabilties plagued my emotion, as the day continued, the ability to share even a basic smile with the kids was comforting enough to leave without burning an American flag. Though I left Friendship village initially with some form of comfort in the soft smiles of the kids, after visiting the U.S. embassy and having the representative tell us that the U.S. won't own up to the horrific effects of Agent Orange made me feel so utterly disgraced that I had no words to describe my stark feeling of anti-patriotism. Later that day we went to visit with Chuck Searcy who is a Vietnam Veteran who is the in-country leader of Project Renew, a charity program focused on the post-war clean up of Vietnam. While I walked in still enraged from the embassy, Chuck's humility, humanity, and humor allowed me to end the day on a note of hope and not disgrace. Today was a free day and I spent the morning working on my ISP in which I am focusing on combining Western and Eastern music. Though I was not as succesful as I hoped, I was able to see some of the traditional instruments of the country and even purchase a small bamboo flute to have with me in hopes of finding someone to play along with me as I play the guitar. In the afternoon the guys of the group shared the rest of the day with our Chu Van An counterparts. We shared in an intense game of laser tag being as they wanted to experience something western with us westerners, and we shared the similarly intense activity of bartering for various vietnamese and communist outerwear. Tomorrow we set off into the jungle for the trek, and tonight we will finally meet our 4th instructor Brad. Hope all is well back in the states. Marie we're all pulling for you to get here as soon as possible, can't wait.
Xin Chao from and to Hanoi,
Jake
Culture Shock and First Impressions by Charlie Dubbe - BOLIVIA
7/2/2007 9:30:47 AM Culture Shock and First Impressions
Hello world! I am sitting in an internet cafe in cochabamba trying to organize my fluttering thoughts into a readable message.
The first couple of days have been a total blurr, it seems more like we have been here for 2 weeks than for 4 days mostly because of all the new things we have seen. The night before last while staying with a wonderful family we had the amazing experience of hearing all about the world by an indigenous man by the name of Llewar (which in quechua means blood fire). This was my first experience in Bolivia that really turned my world upside down.
Here is some reflection on the conversation we had with him:
All these are just questions and hypothetical conversations, and so please don't be offended or think I have fallen off the deep end. Pardon the poor spelling due to the lack of a good keyboard, the fact that we have been speaking almost all Spanish, and it is summer.
The conversation was fully indescribable, but the word that pops to mind is inspirational. It was deep and philosophical but had the feeling of a common dialogue around the fire (where we were).We were all chewing coca leaves and listening to this incredibly wise man laying out all of his views in front of us, like saying ¨This is who I am, this is what I believe.¨
It made me question the US and the fact that they call these people who have SO much poor. These lines that he said will forever be ingrained in my memory.
" No somos pobre, no somos el tercer mundo, somos de el solo mundo, no necicitamos su ayuda."
It basically translates to " We are not poor, we are not the third world, we are part of the only world, we do not need your help"
These lines resonated with me so much that I nearly cried.
We talked about mindless consumers bred by power hungry corporations in a neo liberal and capitalistic society.
He really made me question which way of living i think is better, which is impossible to do for most Americans when the western media reports in only one perspective and voice, The use the voice of "we need to help the third world become more like us" How arrogant can we be? Who are we to assert our views and methods of organizing society on a people who have been doing fine for thousands of years? It goes so far to even think about how we cant stand to say that we share a world with these people, since we call them the "third world" as Llewar said, there is only one world...our world.
Another question brought up is what is progress? I have recently discovered that EVERYTHING is relative. What we call happiness or quality of life is relative to our perspective and environment in and on the world. Is progress good? or is just subsistence enough? Why did I say "just" before subsistence? Isn't living enough?
There are about another three pages I could write on this but i will spare you. Anyway I have it all in my journal.
I will end with this quote which has been and will be my mantra for the rest of the trip.
"Live like you are going to die tomorrow,
Learn like you will live forever"
Gandhi
Mom and dad I am doing great and I love you guys. I will try to call when I have a chance. Love you
paz
Charlie Dubbe
Hello world! I am sitting in an internet cafe in cochabamba trying to organize my fluttering thoughts into a readable message.
The first couple of days have been a total blurr, it seems more like we have been here for 2 weeks than for 4 days mostly because of all the new things we have seen. The night before last while staying with a wonderful family we had the amazing experience of hearing all about the world by an indigenous man by the name of Llewar (which in quechua means blood fire). This was my first experience in Bolivia that really turned my world upside down.
Here is some reflection on the conversation we had with him:
All these are just questions and hypothetical conversations, and so please don't be offended or think I have fallen off the deep end. Pardon the poor spelling due to the lack of a good keyboard, the fact that we have been speaking almost all Spanish, and it is summer.
The conversation was fully indescribable, but the word that pops to mind is inspirational. It was deep and philosophical but had the feeling of a common dialogue around the fire (where we were).We were all chewing coca leaves and listening to this incredibly wise man laying out all of his views in front of us, like saying ¨This is who I am, this is what I believe.¨
It made me question the US and the fact that they call these people who have SO much poor. These lines that he said will forever be ingrained in my memory.
" No somos pobre, no somos el tercer mundo, somos de el solo mundo, no necicitamos su ayuda."
It basically translates to " We are not poor, we are not the third world, we are part of the only world, we do not need your help"
These lines resonated with me so much that I nearly cried.
We talked about mindless consumers bred by power hungry corporations in a neo liberal and capitalistic society.
He really made me question which way of living i think is better, which is impossible to do for most Americans when the western media reports in only one perspective and voice, The use the voice of "we need to help the third world become more like us" How arrogant can we be? Who are we to assert our views and methods of organizing society on a people who have been doing fine for thousands of years? It goes so far to even think about how we cant stand to say that we share a world with these people, since we call them the "third world" as Llewar said, there is only one world...our world.
Another question brought up is what is progress? I have recently discovered that EVERYTHING is relative. What we call happiness or quality of life is relative to our perspective and environment in and on the world. Is progress good? or is just subsistence enough? Why did I say "just" before subsistence? Isn't living enough?
There are about another three pages I could write on this but i will spare you. Anyway I have it all in my journal.
I will end with this quote which has been and will be my mantra for the rest of the trip.
"Live like you are going to die tomorrow,
Learn like you will live forever"
Gandhi
Mom and dad I am doing great and I love you guys. I will try to call when I have a chance. Love you
paz
Charlie Dubbe
Silent Lunch and Black Jello by Julien Isaacs - China Group "A"
7/2/2007 8:13:46 PM Silent Lunch and Black Jello
We woke up early yesterday morning, stopped for some breakfast at the nearby bakery and headed off for Lantau island via ferry. We took a long taxi ride up the mountain, at parts barely dodging oncoming traffic. We arrived at a huge buddha resting on top of the hill, surrounded by colored flags. We continued on a winding hike snaking past waterfalls and lush landscape. We were heading to a Zen Monastery, nestled in the midst of a jungle. After lots of sweat, we arrived and were greeted by Doo Gut, a monk originally from Britain. He showed us around the small monastery and we were separated, boys from girls, as lunch began. The beating of a metal block signaled the commencement of the meal. The monks filed in based on rank into a room with lean tables facing each other. WE quietly filed in and sat before three bowls. One with soup, one with rice, and one with vegetables. We were instructed before hand that we had to finish all food given, for reasons of karma and out of respect for the monks on dish duty. The abbot rang a bell and all the monks and nuns began to sing grace. The song was memorizing, sweeping into high tunes and low chants in an unknown tongue. The last few notes died down and our silent lunch began. The only sound that broke the silence was the clink clank of chopsticks and the loud burp of a Chinese woman. The monks instructed us to really feel the food we were eating, and ponder such questions of who am I, who is this person eating the food. The tofu was delicious, the soup not so much. Mistakenly, I asked for the dessert, a black jello coup concoction that soon became painful to eat. WE were the only ones who couldn't finish our food. It was slightly embarrassing. The meal ended with another chant. Afterwords we had a Q and A with the British monk who explained Buddhism and such concepts as separating the Chinese from Buddhism. WE left the monastery, full, slightly queasy but full of knowledge.
We woke up early yesterday morning, stopped for some breakfast at the nearby bakery and headed off for Lantau island via ferry. We took a long taxi ride up the mountain, at parts barely dodging oncoming traffic. We arrived at a huge buddha resting on top of the hill, surrounded by colored flags. We continued on a winding hike snaking past waterfalls and lush landscape. We were heading to a Zen Monastery, nestled in the midst of a jungle. After lots of sweat, we arrived and were greeted by Doo Gut, a monk originally from Britain. He showed us around the small monastery and we were separated, boys from girls, as lunch began. The beating of a metal block signaled the commencement of the meal. The monks filed in based on rank into a room with lean tables facing each other. WE quietly filed in and sat before three bowls. One with soup, one with rice, and one with vegetables. We were instructed before hand that we had to finish all food given, for reasons of karma and out of respect for the monks on dish duty. The abbot rang a bell and all the monks and nuns began to sing grace. The song was memorizing, sweeping into high tunes and low chants in an unknown tongue. The last few notes died down and our silent lunch began. The only sound that broke the silence was the clink clank of chopsticks and the loud burp of a Chinese woman. The monks instructed us to really feel the food we were eating, and ponder such questions of who am I, who is this person eating the food. The tofu was delicious, the soup not so much. Mistakenly, I asked for the dessert, a black jello coup concoction that soon became painful to eat. WE were the only ones who couldn't finish our food. It was slightly embarrassing. The meal ended with another chant. Afterwords we had a Q and A with the British monk who explained Buddhism and such concepts as separating the Chinese from Buddhism. WE left the monastery, full, slightly queasy but full of knowledge.
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Love from Boulder to Senegal
The Boulder Admin officially sends love from Boulder to Senegal.
To View "To Mbouille - The Feature" click on the play button.
Special Addition! Unedited Cuts and Unseen Footage!
To View "To Mbouille - The Extras" click on the play button below.
fyi: This is an example of a posting that includes video.
To View "To Mbouille - The Feature" click on the play button.
Special Addition! Unedited Cuts and Unseen Footage!
To View "To Mbouille - The Extras" click on the play button below.
fyi: This is an example of a posting that includes video.
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