Don't Mess With Marlow

So the other day I go "job-hunting". Basically this involves driving/walking around from shop to shop hunting for "Now Hiring" signs or the occasional blatant(and intimidating because no one enjoys being publicly rejected) question of whether they are hiring and/or should you leave your resume "just in case". The consistent response to whether they were hiring was no and the common response to whether they would like to hold on to my resume "just in case" was a very indifferent and absolutely unconvincing "okay". If anyone is searching for a humbling experience spend a day going around to shops and cafes you NEVER go to in order to ask them for a job that they do not want you for. The icing on the bitter cake of my day was the last place at which I planned to drop off my resume for the day. It was a hotel cafe. Attached to the hotel was a bar and restaurant (not sophisticated by any means) in which I was supposed to wait while waiting for the manager to see me. I sat, about half an hour actually. The manager didn't come to speak with me, instead I sat in a booth dazed and confused by the bizarre scene in front of me. In a matter of about ten minutes a chef, a "resume builder for temp agencies" turned bartender and a server managed to reduce my dignity, confidence and self-respect to mere dust. All three vital restaurant employees ganged up on me and went to town. The chef after reading my resume looked at me and said, "Wow, I bet your parents aren't disappointed in you", I was speechless. Then he went on to criticize my resume and compared it to (since I'm a girl, he said, he'll put it in terms I would understand) going on a date and needing to "sell" myself, for instance wearing a short skirt, low cut shirt and a lot of make-up. Still, speechless. He also said that if he were one of the employers I sent my resume to that he wouldn't call me back either. THEN, the bartender approaches, reads my resume and is pretty much disgusted. She shows me the proper way to create a resume for professional jobs. Wow, she's so talented, she had that bar tending job in the bag... At this point, I get it, I know my resume is bad, thank you Marlow's Tavern for making that clear to me. Let us not forget to pay proper tribute to the server. He called my resume "ghetto-rigged". At this point I was so humiliated, shocked and confused that I just did not have anything left in me to stay. So after a half hour of verbal abuse from the restaurant staff, I left. There is nothing like being humiliated and insulted in public by a restaurant's staff to put your life in perspective. The best part about this experience was that I was not even applying to work in that restaurant. If that doesn't make you feel good about your employment status, I don't even know what to tell you; needless to say, not the best way to spend a Monday afternoon.

Still waiting for the epiphany...

So, here I am, sitting in my aunt's home back in Atlanta, GA, USA. You may wonder, actually I'm wondering as well, what is it that I'm doing now, 35 days home? Am I employed? No, I am not. Am I doing something to generate some income? No, I am not; right now, actually, I'm just draining the last of my savings that I brought home with me. Do I have a plan for my life, at least for the short run? No, not really. So what is it, you are probably wondering, that I do with my time. Let me take you through a pretty typical, average day. I wake up in time for lunch, which is pretty unfortunate since no one, myself included, actually wants to eat lunch when they wake up. The first couple of hours after waking up should be sustained with a breakfast type meal such as cereal, eggs or my personal favorite, Fiber One cereal bars. This is disconcerting for me because I really like lunch food. I like sandwiches, salads, soups, hot dogs, what else do we eat for lunch? What is even more disconcerting to me is that I have no will in the morning to wake up earlier, despite the fact that I enjoy the tradition of eating a cereal bar for breakfast, a sandwich at lunch and then a meal at dinner. My lack of a proper schedule is really only hurting me. What is even more alarming is that this is an issue. I have so little to report that I am informing any stranger that happens, to their misfortune, to stumble upon this post of the oh so exciting nature of my current lifestyle. I'm sorry, to anyone, who has taken three minutes out of their day to read this. You will not get the three minutes back, but keep in mind, I'm not getting any of these minutes back, and I'm right here in the middle of all this intensity...Anyway, perhaps I will create a job for myself. There is no investor to finance this endeavor, but I really don't need one now as long as I get an occasional weekly gig of either babysitting, deceiving a three-year old child into trading pacifiers for Disney Princess toys by telling her I'm the "Passy Fairy", or the occasional 'gift' from my [very old] grandfather to pay for my gas. I must show gratefulness, however, that I am not living on the street or going hungry since I have been so blessed to be able to live at my grandfather's house now at no cost to me. Things can always be worse. For anyone (doubtful) who is interested in the ever-so-interesting life of an unemployed, indecisive 23 year old college graduate who just came back from a nine-month journey from home with the only accumulated skills of budget travel and resourceful thinking, stick around. I am pretty positive that there is more to come. I have nothing else to do.

Return to the Motherland

I have spent the past couple of weeks back at home with my family in Lebanon. It was a perfect ending to very productive and fruitful nine months of travel. After living and working in New Zealand, to vigorously traveling Thailand and Cambodia, then volunteering and experiencing South Africa and finally seeing a very beautiful and picturesque area of England, I decided to end my trip back here, in Lebanon. And I am still here. My brother brought two friends with him whose extent of arabic language was "yes", "where is the bathroom?" and "the food tastes good". Surprisingly, my family and the two guys took to each other very well and were miraculously able to understand each other either through english-arabic, body language, facial expression or just blind faith that what the other was saying was understood. The two weeks we spent as a family eating (which is a very huge part of Lebanese culture), laughing, arguing/listening to politics and experiencing our fabulously rich culture were blissful. It wasn't until the end of our trip that we realized that the "labor strike" wasn't simply that, but a way for the different political and religious divisions within this country to have themselves heard, and this time it wasn't a peaceful revolution. Riots and violence in the streets of West Beirut made their way around. The "fighters", some being only zealous young boys with weapons, lit tires and cars on fires, closed off streets, shot at their opposition while hiding in buildings and some in the middle of the streets. As the army began maintaining the peace the fighting spread to other parts of Lebanon. That made travel in this country a bit more difficult. Conflicts would just break out and many people didn't know which routes to take in order to avoid it altogether. Fortunately for my brother and his friends their is a road to Syria (then to Jordan for them) that is supposedly clear and safe. Today they began their journey (and let's hope for their sake a very unexciting one)so that they can make their flight on time from Amman, Jordan to Chicago, Illinois. As for me, I was already supposed to leave but as we well know, the airport is still closed. I have the option of going to Damascus and flying from there, but unfortunately hundreds of other Lebanese and tourists had that same idea and all the seats are full. Right now I'm on a waiting list for a seat. We will see when I hopefully do get back home. How ironic that now, at the point that I'm willing if not almost looking forward to starting a "life" back home, I am unable to get there. Is this divine intervention? A sign that perhaps I'm not to go home right now? A sign that I'm supposed to keep on traveling and seeing the world through the inquisitive eyes I've been given? Only kidding, Dad, don't worry, I'm doing what I can to come back home. As for me? Do I kind of wish I did not come to Lebanon this time? There is no way. This country with its traditions, customs and political instability are all a part of me and my life. And every time I come back here I'm already wondering and hoping when the next time will be.

The Indlovu Project

Unfortunately, my time in South Africa has come to an end, but I am, however, quite grateful for the opportunity I have had here. I have spent three and a half very short weeks living in Capetown's largest squatter camp and have experienced a lot. My days mainly consisted of accomplishing random tasks wherever my two hands were needed, from feeding and holding babies in the creche, to serving lunch in the soup kitchen, to gardening and painting or simply just playing around with the "neighborhood" kids. Although it is a huge area here, the director and manager here have done a tremendous job of creating a strong sense of community. Di and Byiswa have worked very hard to build this community outreach program and, in my opinion, have made a very successful one. The soup kitchen is opened each weekday lunch to feed the elderly, sick and unemployed, as many as 200 a day, and all for the cost of about $50 per week. In fact, soon, anyone will be able to go onto the Shaster Foundation website and donate a week at the soup kitchen in honor of a birthday or holiday, in return the person who is to receive the "gift" will receive a card human mind has such an ability to adapt to its surroundings that even in such a place as the squatter camp, we got "used" to what we saw. It became a part of the life we were leading at the time. And, for me, that is a dangerous thing. I think the reason that so many people stand aside and do nothing to help such situations is because they have not seen it first hand, or do not feel the desperation. We on the other hand were living there, yet I still found myself occasionally overlooking the crucial need for change there. I had to, and still have to, remind myself to not be complacent, to not just remember the sweet children playing in the streets, but remind myself that these sweet children were sick, playing barefoot in dusty streets covered in broken glass, that many were malnourished, and some with parents who would squander the money for dinner on their afternoon drinking session. Yes, there were beautiful people with pure intentions and just wished for better lives for their families, those are the people that I can't forget to remember. A community based on this is what Di and Byiswa are hoping for, are working for. I love that place, what it represents and what it is striving to achieve. I hope to go back next year and see all of the advancements they have made. Oh, and there is a 15 minute video that basically sums up the Indlovu project and the exciting things it hopes to achieve. As soon as it is accessible on the internet, we will let all of you know! Also, if anyone is interested in lending support to Shaster and Indlovu, visit the website at www.shaster.org.za

South Africa

I believe one of the strangest things I have encountered on my trip is how quickly, and seemingly effortlessly, I adapt to my surroundings. Since early February I have been in several countries, several cultures, all very different from each other. I went from New Zealand to Thailand to Cambodia back to Thailand and then to South Africa. The only common factor these countries once shared was that I have never visited any of them before this trip. We plan, we pack, we go. New Zealand: check. Southeast Asia: check. South Africa: pending. I am having a hard time believing that I am finally on the continent that I have had such a fascination with for so many years. I am in Africa. Fair enough, I am in South Africa, but Africa nonetheless. When we first arrived here the feedback we received from locals about our plan to work and live in Kialetsche, Cape town's largest and most disadvantaged township, was discouraging to say the least. Most of the reactions were the same, a mixture of pity for our "naivety", fear for our safety and amusement at our idea. For me this was quite a disappointment. Africa was for me. This part of the trip was going to be my learning experience so such reactions were not welcomed on my part. It really frustrated me that we received no positive encouragement. Regardless, this is what I came to do, and this is what will be done. It took us quite a while to finally make it out to the township due to the busy schedule of the director, but when we finally arrived it was pretty much what I expected. Disheartening, dry, hot, overcrowded and poor. Very, very poor. Most of the homes and buildings are made out of recycled materials. By recycled materials I mean pieces of trash collected from the nearby landfill. Homes stood side by side, amongst which stood rows of toilets, randomly dispersed water taps and the occasional bar for some of the approximately 80% unemployed to pass some time. In the township there are guidelines that "guests" must abide by. There are certain streets that we just don't go down, even in our car. We are not to walk around unescorted by a local, even in broad daylight, and we are not to walk or drive around past sunset, period. I assume that as long as we follow these rules, we'll make it out in one piece :-) We were given a tour of the Shaster facilities; they are modest to say the least, but Di, the director, has some big plans. She is planning within the next five years, I believe, to convert 20,000 shacks into eco-cottages. Homes built out of sandbags and plaster using only solar power, growing their own gardens and becoming completely self sufficient--not relying on the very little that the government provides its suffering people. We went to the creche, preschool/orphange, and played with the children. Imagine about 40-50 babies and toddlers in a space about the size of your bedroom. That is the nursery. It's hot, crowded, a breeding ground for germs and bacteria and filled with the sweetest little faces. One little baby, the moment we walked to the door walked straight to Laura and reached up to her to hold him. They were all instantly consumed with their new guests. Three new faces, all of which appear to be very different from ones they have seen before. They touched our faces, rubbed our noses, examined our eyeballs and kissed our cheeks. They all vied for our attention, but unfortunately, it was difficult to spend time with all of them, seeing as there were so many of them and so few of us. For those of the children who have not lost their parents to diseases such as aids, the parents have to pay a moderately high price for the care. They have so little income and practically all of it goes to their expenses so quickly. From food to clothing to nursery to schooling to medical expenses to paying off debts, how can they possibly afford it. Thankfully, some can and thankfully the rate of extreme hunger in this township is very very small. Most families may not go to sleep very full, but they do go to sleep with something. There is a 45% aids infected rate in the township as well and TB isn't an unknown disease here either. The people go through a lot but they were still very kind and warm with us, making us feel not as strangers but as guests. We move in on Friday. We have been staying at a beautiful lodge at the beach until we made arrangements to hire a car so that we have our own transportation out there. I must say that I will be sad to leave such a comfortable and clean guesthouse by the sea but eager to experiencing life in the township. I will hopefully post again, sometime soon, but internet will not be as readily available, so my access to it will be limited. We miss you all and I look forward to seeing my family and friends in a couple months.

P.S.

Mary K and I both may pull an Angelina and bring home some Cambodian babies. If everyone would come to Cambodia once, no one will ever again make fun of her United Colors of Benetton family, the kids are adorable! They will want one too!

Au Revoir Cambodge!

Today is our final day in Cambodia, we will hopefully catch a bus back to Bangkok tomorrow and then hopefully an overnight train/bus down to the southern islands of Thialand in time for the full moon. Let me just recap how we have spent our final day here. We woke up and went to a school/restaurant to attend a morning class. Mary K and I learned to cook three traditional Khmer dishes. We were first taken to the market to pick out the fresh ingredients for our dishes. That was an event for us in and of itself. Watching men knock living frogs out by hitting them on the heads with mallets and then skinning them whole. Women scaling, deboning and cleaning fish as if it were second nature, and constantly having to dodge live fish jumping out of their boxes and onto the ground at our feet trying to escape for freedom, just to have an old woman reach down and grab it bare-handedly to throw it back in with its mates all awaiting their same fate. After that little treat we headed back and started cooking. I was pretty grossed out at first seeing all that raw meat, chicken, fish, eggs and knowing that I would be eating some of it later, but surprisingly enough, it all turned out really tasty; we're good cooks. We were given a cookbook to bring back with us, so get ready everyone for some serious Khmer cuisine! It was such fun to cook well for myself, meals I create for myself typically consist of soup and a grilled ham and cheese sandwich or eggs or something of equal simplicity. I made Amok curry with fish, Lok Lak diced beef with a sweet/tangy black pepper sauce and fresh vegetables, and a chicken hot/sweet soup with lots of pepper! After that we went back to our guesthouse and hoped on two motorcycles(the most common mode of transportation here) and were taken on tours throughout the countryside and rural villages. My parents, you may not find this next part amusing. Jokingly, I said to my driver, "So, when are you going to let me drive this thing?" Twenty seconds later, he pulled off onto a side street and told me to hop up front. By the way, this bike is manual, not automatic, and I have driven a manual car once in my life, and that was last year. So he gives me a twenty second lesson and tells me to go. I don't do it confidently, or perhaps the problem was that I was too confident. I go slowly a couple of times, not well, and stop quickly, not liking it. He told me to try again, and so I said, fine, last time. One last time was all I needed to crash the bike and we both fell over with the bike between our legs. I scraped up my right knee a bit, but a part from that, most of the damage was done to the bike. $90 worth to be precise. I now look back on it and find the amusement in it and realize it could have been a lot worse...My advice to you: next time you are in a third world country riding leisurely throughout rural villages, leave the driving to trained semi-professionals, lord knows I should.
After that we crossed over a suspended bridge (which I find to be a bit thrilling and cool) and made our way to a bamboo train. This train would be outlawed in the U.S. due to all that liability jargon, but it sure was a good time. Basically it is a small flat truck bed size raft made of bamboo with wheels and an engine. Then you just fly down an abandoned train track for a few kilometers. It's shaky, loud and the fear and threat of derailing is prevalent. We ran into another bamboo train cart coming our way, but because they had less weight on it (we had four people and two motorcycles) they had to get up, disassemble the train and wait for us to pass. How crazy is that? Only in Cambodia, I suppose! Then one of our drivers took us to his home to meet his mother and show us pictures and American books he has (a little random but friendly and warm all the same). After we came back to town and I paid the man for the damage I caused to his bike (tear) Mary K and I went and had Cambodia's best fresh fruit shake. It sure was. All the fruit is always picked fresh and nothing added to it, but mango, pineapple and banana! Anyway, just wanted to let everyone know about the "closing ceremony" in Cambodia! Wish us luck as we use the ever-so-reliable and efficient logistics system of Cambodia and Thailand...Should be interesting.