This past week, I had my first hitchhiking experience, and in Guatemala of all places. Starting where I left off, after spending a nice relaxing birthday swinging in a hammock for my birthday and feasting on a buffet for dinner, we left Finca Ixobel to make our way to Fray Bartolomey de Las Casas. Unfortunately, this place left much to be desired. We considered trying to make it to Semuc Champey that afternoon, but it was doubtful if we could make it before dark, so we decided to stay the night there.
As Amit and I have said all trip long, whenever you travel, it's just a series of ups and downs, and Fray was definitely a down day. We walk into supposedly the best hotel in town and we find a pool infested with algae and tadpoles. The manager wakes up from his nap, and as we peek behind him into his room, there is a shotgun lying on his bed. The room we're led to is muggy, dark, and sparse, the toilet doesn't flush, there is a pair of men's briefs lying outside our doorway.
Fortunately for us, but perhaps unfortunately for them, a couple of fellow travels stroll into the same hotel about an hour later and ask Amit for a room, mistaking him for the Guatemalan owner. When that confusion is resolved, we discover that we are both headed for Semuc and ended up stranded in Fray for the day. Lara, a cute blonde girl from Michigan, and Ryan, a Kiwi.
We get an early start the next day, and Amit and I head to the bus station to discover that all of the shuttles go all the way to Coban, and we have to catch a ride from there to Semuc, even though Semuc is about halfway between. The reason is that there is construction on the road between Fray and Semuc, so we have to go around, all the way down to Coban. We weren't about to waste our time going to Coban, and Lara and Ryan had mentioned trying to hitchhike down to Semuc, so we return to our hotel, and decide to travel together.
This is where the story gets interesting. If you're ever interested in hitchhiking in Latin America, just have a blonde girl who speaks Spanish, and you are golden. Lara had spent a year in Chile as an undergrad and another year after college working at a vineyard. Her mom moved to Honduras a few years ago to open up a restaurant, so Lara has become fluent through all of these experiences.
Our first ride happened to be on the back of a semi that was driving through some little country road. As soon as the driver realized that there was this blonde chica asking for a ride, he stopped the truck, and we all hopped on the side. After getting dropped off at a crossroad, we walked down the street and past the barricades onto the road that was being constructed. The guy guarding the gate seemed to excited to see us come (or at least to see her), and he enthusiastically let us pass. After about 15 minutes of walking, a truck on its way to the construction approached, and again, she charmed our way onto another ride. Somehow, the three of them got to sit in the cab of the truck, and I sat in the back, along with all of the materials, construction workers, and two soldiers with automatic rifles on either side. I figured I was either really safe or in a bit of danger, but I tried to assume the former.
This ride on the back of the truck will definitely go down as the most beautiful ride through Guatemala. Riding through such pristine wilderness and having a 360 degree view was amazing. The truck stopped after about 30 minutes, and we got off to continue our hike.
As we walked along the incomplete road, all of the workers waived and yelled at us (or maybe it was just her), and we all kind of felt like minor celebrities. Workers blowing up rocks, chiseling at boulders, hanging off of cliffs would all stop their work and wave. We got to a village after a few minutes, and the same thing continued. It was like they had never seen a group consisting of an American, a Japanese, an Indian, and a Kiwi.
We finally made it to Semuc that afternoon, and after grabbing a bite to eat, we tubed down the river, and it was one of the most peaceful experiences ever. After jumping off a bridge into the river, we drifted down, and it started to pour, except the sun was still shining. A rainbow formed in the middle of the river, and having seen both ends, I can now confirm that no pot of gold exists at either end. The rain falling into the turquoise waters created an appearance that miniature fountains were shooting up all around us to shower our voyage. Yup, after the lows come such highs.
Monday, July 09, 2007
Wednesday, July 04, 2007
Chicken bus diaries
My friend Amit rolled into town last Friday, and with the suggestion of my roommate Josh, we decided to take the week off and travel. My original plan was that this week, I would spend volunteering at a daycare and then traveling next week, but since Josh was heading out this week, and Amit just came into town, I figured why not travel this week and enjoy it?
When I told my host mom Trinise about this, she sounded a little disappointed with the news. I think people have a misconception about what first year medical students can do. When most people hear about medical students volunteering, they believe that we're basically miniature doctors, when in fact, we're still more like medical scientists with little clinical training. I don't really blame people for holding such a notion because I think that in the first year of medical school, we should at least be taught the basic clincal skills, so that we can at least hold our own in a clinic instead of just sitting around twiddling our thumbs (the Guatemalans have an expression for that hear, but it is quite vulgar). I did feel a little guilty since now she feels I came down here as a regular tourist, but I can't deny that this year.
Last year, my main purpose for going to Ecuador was to volunteer. This year, it was to learn Spanish, travel, and volunteer, in that order. I've learned my Spanish, and I'm traveling now, and I won't be able to volunteer, but so be it. As cynical as this may sound, one week of volunteering wouldn't have really amounted to much of a contribution.
So now, I'm on the road with Amit. We went to Lago Atitlan over the weekend where we jumped off some cliffs into the water, yesterday we went to the Mayan ruins at Tikal, and the rest of the week should turn out something like this - today at Finca Ixobel, tomorrow at Fray Bartolomey de Las Calas, Friday get to the Coban area, Saturday at Semuc Champey, and Sunday ride back to Xela. Round up my stay in Xela and get to Antigua before my flight back on Thursday. It'll be good to be back home.
When I told my host mom Trinise about this, she sounded a little disappointed with the news. I think people have a misconception about what first year medical students can do. When most people hear about medical students volunteering, they believe that we're basically miniature doctors, when in fact, we're still more like medical scientists with little clinical training. I don't really blame people for holding such a notion because I think that in the first year of medical school, we should at least be taught the basic clincal skills, so that we can at least hold our own in a clinic instead of just sitting around twiddling our thumbs (the Guatemalans have an expression for that hear, but it is quite vulgar). I did feel a little guilty since now she feels I came down here as a regular tourist, but I can't deny that this year.
Last year, my main purpose for going to Ecuador was to volunteer. This year, it was to learn Spanish, travel, and volunteer, in that order. I've learned my Spanish, and I'm traveling now, and I won't be able to volunteer, but so be it. As cynical as this may sound, one week of volunteering wouldn't have really amounted to much of a contribution.
So now, I'm on the road with Amit. We went to Lago Atitlan over the weekend where we jumped off some cliffs into the water, yesterday we went to the Mayan ruins at Tikal, and the rest of the week should turn out something like this - today at Finca Ixobel, tomorrow at Fray Bartolomey de Las Calas, Friday get to the Coban area, Saturday at Semuc Champey, and Sunday ride back to Xela. Round up my stay in Xela and get to Antigua before my flight back on Thursday. It'll be good to be back home.
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Staying alive
Comparing this experience to my experience last year in Ecuador, I'm not sure which is better. As difficult a time as I had during my stay in El Paraiso, by the end, I truly appreciated the immersion experience and the friendliness of the people living on the ridge of a small hill in the middle of nowhere. Whenever you approached a group of people, you would greet them and shake every single person's hand. Despite my difficulty understanding my family's thick accent, they did everything for me, cooked, cleaned, tried to make me feel as much at home as possible.
Contrast that to my current conditions. The city of Xela is a city. People are generally inpersonable because they've been conditioned to having tourists throughout the city. The air pollution here is horrible, as in most Latin American cities. My host mom is fantastic, helps me with my Spanish, and is truly interested in us, but the hosting is definitely run as a little side business, not that there's anything wrong with that. Then again, it's nice to have other people who speak English here, and I've met plenty of people here through various connections, and we've traveled, gone out to dinner, went to sketchy bars (the toilet was in the corner of the room, with only a 3 ft. high partition between the room and the toilet), gone salsa dancing, all things that I never got the chance to do much in Ecuador.
As for the Spanish, things are definitely falling into place more this summer, and it's hard to say if it's the environment or just my experience. I don't think speaking English half the time is too beneficial for my Spanish, but then again, it's easier to learn when you can actually ask someone what something means in Spanish, and they can tell you in English. I think I've improved well enough to the point where I don't need classes anymore and just need to practice, so I cut back my hours to 2 per day, and next week I'm just going to try and find some volunteer work to keep me occupied.
So that's where I am now. As for a recap of the past week's events, mostly just classes last week and hanging out at gringofied bars. On Saturday, we went to the Fuentas Georginas, a hot water spring, where we almost got crushed by several hundred pound boulders that tumbled onto our path as we hiked up. Sunday was a little more relaxed with some studying and watching the finals of the Gold Cup. The past two days, we've celebrated the birthday of Steven, one of my housemates who is also an Emory med student. All's good in Xela, and it's confirmed, my buddy Amit is on his way down, so we'll be sure to have an adventure when he makes it down here.
Contrast that to my current conditions. The city of Xela is a city. People are generally inpersonable because they've been conditioned to having tourists throughout the city. The air pollution here is horrible, as in most Latin American cities. My host mom is fantastic, helps me with my Spanish, and is truly interested in us, but the hosting is definitely run as a little side business, not that there's anything wrong with that. Then again, it's nice to have other people who speak English here, and I've met plenty of people here through various connections, and we've traveled, gone out to dinner, went to sketchy bars (the toilet was in the corner of the room, with only a 3 ft. high partition between the room and the toilet), gone salsa dancing, all things that I never got the chance to do much in Ecuador.
As for the Spanish, things are definitely falling into place more this summer, and it's hard to say if it's the environment or just my experience. I don't think speaking English half the time is too beneficial for my Spanish, but then again, it's easier to learn when you can actually ask someone what something means in Spanish, and they can tell you in English. I think I've improved well enough to the point where I don't need classes anymore and just need to practice, so I cut back my hours to 2 per day, and next week I'm just going to try and find some volunteer work to keep me occupied.
So that's where I am now. As for a recap of the past week's events, mostly just classes last week and hanging out at gringofied bars. On Saturday, we went to the Fuentas Georginas, a hot water spring, where we almost got crushed by several hundred pound boulders that tumbled onto our path as we hiked up. Sunday was a little more relaxed with some studying and watching the finals of the Gold Cup. The past two days, we've celebrated the birthday of Steven, one of my housemates who is also an Emory med student. All's good in Xela, and it's confirmed, my buddy Amit is on his way down, so we'll be sure to have an adventure when he makes it down here.
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
Chicken buses
I think chicken buses deserve a separate entry for explanation, and I have some time, so I'll do it now. Chicken buses are what they call the ubiquitous people movers in Guatemala. They are simply old American schoolbuses that wear such a garish paint job that would make even the wildest hair bands of the 80's blush. They have a reputation for being bumpy, packed, and pollutin'. Sure enough, after my first ride on one of these this morning, I can confirm all of this.
On top of this are the drivers and their driving habits. Apparently, some of these buses are driven by teens as young as 18 (I wouldn't have trusted myself at that age to drive anything bigger than minivan), and some of these drivers come to work a slight bit tipsy. Even on windy mountain roads, both lanes are used - your lane and the lane for oncoming traffic - although I do respect the fact that they're taking the shortest distance around a curve, whether it be in their own lane or the opposite. On uphills, black smoke pours out of the tailpipe like a thundercloud, and on downhills, you can actually smell the rubber on the brakes burning, just hoping that the brakes don't catch fire.
Fortunately, this bus I'm taking this afternoon will be a nicer one, and with no stops, I can fall comfortably into my Dramamine induced sleep without having to worry as much about someone stealing my bag. Vamos a ver.
Oh yeah, and another surprising thing, I get motion sickness pretty easily, but I was fine on the chicken bus. I think the difference between the chicken buses and the buses in Ecuador is that these buses were crappier. I could actually see outside and feel the wind in my face and feel every bump on the road. The Ecuadorian buses on the otherhand, had semi-decent shocks and equipment, so it almost felt like I was on a lurching boat, which is much worse. If I can at least make a connection between all of my senses that yes, this vehicle is moving, I'm ok, but if my skin tells me there's no wind but my eyes tell me we're getting bounced around, I think that's when I get sick.
Haven't eaten anything yet this morning, so gonna go find some almuerzo, hope it's clean.
On top of this are the drivers and their driving habits. Apparently, some of these buses are driven by teens as young as 18 (I wouldn't have trusted myself at that age to drive anything bigger than minivan), and some of these drivers come to work a slight bit tipsy. Even on windy mountain roads, both lanes are used - your lane and the lane for oncoming traffic - although I do respect the fact that they're taking the shortest distance around a curve, whether it be in their own lane or the opposite. On uphills, black smoke pours out of the tailpipe like a thundercloud, and on downhills, you can actually smell the rubber on the brakes burning, just hoping that the brakes don't catch fire.
Fortunately, this bus I'm taking this afternoon will be a nicer one, and with no stops, I can fall comfortably into my Dramamine induced sleep without having to worry as much about someone stealing my bag. Vamos a ver.
Oh yeah, and another surprising thing, I get motion sickness pretty easily, but I was fine on the chicken bus. I think the difference between the chicken buses and the buses in Ecuador is that these buses were crappier. I could actually see outside and feel the wind in my face and feel every bump on the road. The Ecuadorian buses on the otherhand, had semi-decent shocks and equipment, so it almost felt like I was on a lurching boat, which is much worse. If I can at least make a connection between all of my senses that yes, this vehicle is moving, I'm ok, but if my skin tells me there's no wind but my eyes tell me we're getting bounced around, I think that's when I get sick.
Haven't eaten anything yet this morning, so gonna go find some almuerzo, hope it's clean.
I missed the bus....
..... and I'm never ever ever gonna do it again. At least if I can help it. I parted ways with Blaire and David this morning around 6 30 to catch the funky chicken bus to GC. It's supposed to take about an hour to get to GC from Antigua, so I figured it'd be enough time for me to get to the bus station to catch the 8 AM direct bus to Xela. Unfortunately, we got caught up in rush hour traffic, so I got to the bus station around 8 15. Again, I was hoping that the stereotype of Latin American countries as being very loose with time held true, but again, I waiting a few more hours until the next bus pulls out at 3 PM. I'm really glad I brought several books on this trip.
After my first couple of days in Guate, I think I've developed enough of a sense of it to tell you my first impressions. Guatemala makes Ecuador look like a first-world country. Sure, there's some beautiful historic buildings and new developments being made, but this internet cafe in zone 1 of GC is basically in the middle of a slum. This morning on the chicken bus, I got a good view of most of GC as well as the areas between here and Antigua, and it feels nothing like Ecuador.
I remember in Ecuador, my teacher kept telling me that Ecuador was probably the most corrupt or second most corrupt country in South America. But for all of their corruption, it's actually a pretty nice country from what I saw. And the corruption there seemed to be more at the upper levels of the government, not the petty corruption of local police that I encountered in my first night here. If you think about it, the same could almost be said of the states. Certain industries and interest groups lobbying politicians and donating funds in exchange for political support. Really, what's the difference? It seems to me that corruption is just part of the equation when it comes to the government. Whereas in these third world countries it may be everywhere, it's hard to deny that industrialized nations are immune from its effects, they only cover it up better.
After my first couple of days in Guate, I think I've developed enough of a sense of it to tell you my first impressions. Guatemala makes Ecuador look like a first-world country. Sure, there's some beautiful historic buildings and new developments being made, but this internet cafe in zone 1 of GC is basically in the middle of a slum. This morning on the chicken bus, I got a good view of most of GC as well as the areas between here and Antigua, and it feels nothing like Ecuador.
I remember in Ecuador, my teacher kept telling me that Ecuador was probably the most corrupt or second most corrupt country in South America. But for all of their corruption, it's actually a pretty nice country from what I saw. And the corruption there seemed to be more at the upper levels of the government, not the petty corruption of local police that I encountered in my first night here. If you think about it, the same could almost be said of the states. Certain industries and interest groups lobbying politicians and donating funds in exchange for political support. Really, what's the difference? It seems to me that corruption is just part of the equation when it comes to the government. Whereas in these third world countries it may be everywhere, it's hard to deny that industrialized nations are immune from its effects, they only cover it up better.
Monday, June 18, 2007
And I almost didn't make it part deux
Last year, I almost didn't make it to Ecuador because I lost my green card a few days before, and I had to get some stamp in my passport at the immigration place downtown. This year, I lost my green card the day before right after I made copies of it at the Emory library. Of course I notice this about 10 PM when my flight leaves the next morning at 6 AM. I could've sworn I picked it up from the copier, and I don't think I lost it at the farmers' market or Walgreens, which were the only two places I went afterwards. I have no idea where I could've lost it after searching all over, and Sheena finally calls the Emory PD to see if they can check the library (since it's already closed). God bless her heart (and my stupidity) it was there, and we picked it up and got to enjoy ourselves at Neighbors before my early morning flight. Unfortunately, this was just the beginning.
My flight left at 6 30, got to Ft. Lauderdale around 8 30 (after a brief stop in Orlando) and waited a grueling 9 hours until my flight to Guatemala. Fortunately, I had a book, Mountains Beyond Mountains, and I managed to finish that during that time, so all was not wasted.
I finally arrive at the airport in Guatemala around 9 PM East coast time, 7 PM here, and I wait in the taxi parking area for someone to pick me up. There's this site called couchsurfing.com, where people offer their couches for people to crash on (yeah, I know, a bit shady, but at least it's free), so I had arranged to stay with this girl who happened to work for the same airline I flew in on, Spirit Airlines. It turned out she got off work at 8, so we figured, perfect, she'd pick me up after work, I don't mind waiting an hour or so for a free place to stay (plus, she's apparently a cook). I wait one hour. Ok, it's 8, but you know those Latin American people, they don't take time too seriously, and she probably needs some time to make it over. 8 30. Yeah..... maybe she just needs a little time. She had given me her number, but for some reason, the airport, of all places, doesn't have a place where you can exchange currency, so I couldn't make a call. I finally muster up the courage to ask some fellow Asian student looking types for some change to place a call, and when I call, no one picks up. These fellow students, Jane, James, and Justin (alliteration's great, ain't it?) are studying at a school in Antigua, and a shuttle is supposed to pick them up. It's about 9 by now, and I figure, hell, why don't I just go to Antigua tonight with them? The price of a taxi to downtown Guatemala City (GC) is the same as the shuttle ride to Antigua, and there's the possibility that Blaire and Roffwarg are going to be there. At around 9 30, their shuttle finally comes to pick them up, and I tag along.
We pick up a couple more students going to the school, and we're chugging on our way...... or so we thought. We're on the road less than 2 miles, and we see the flashing lights. Crap, we're caught. But what did we do wrong? Apparently, DWT (driving while tourists), apparently Asian ones especially. They ask for all of our passports, and after a few minutes, they tell the 4 of us Asians to get out. I'm wondering what the heck, this looks like racial profiling. For some reason, they say that just the 4 of us (not the 3 other people in the shuttle) have to go back with them to the police station to confirm our immigration. We keep asking why, and they don't seem to have a very clear explanation, so I sure as hell am not going to go the police station. They call in to their HQ, and insist that we must go with them. "No way, this is crap", I'm thinking to myself. Our shuttle driver speaks to them as well to confirm that he works for a school, and we're all going to this school (although he leaves out the part that I'm actually not), but unfortunately, he doesn't speak any English, so I was put in the place of translating all of this with my semi-competent Spanish. Then, these officers come back and say that Justin and James have to go with them because they don't have the necessary stamp in their passport, but Jane and I are ok. I tell them we have to stick together, so we'll follow them to the station, but the officers say, "No, you two are fine, just go along." Hell if I let two people go with them to the police station and have the rights violated, I tell them no.
Then, I remember reading somewhere that Guatemala, Belize, and Nicaragua have some sort of agreement where their citizens can pass between those countries freely. Funny thing is, these three Asian kids are actually from Belize. So why are they in Guate to learn Spanish? English is apparently the official language in Belize (but Jane has a Taiwanese passport). Learn something new everyday. I argue that James and Justin don't have the stamp in their passport because of the agreement, but they act like they have no idea what I'm talking about (or more likely, I didn't make any sense in my Spanish). We just sit around wondering what the heck we're going to do while one officer goes to talk to James and Justin off to the side. After maybe an hour of waiting, we're finally let go, like there was no incident at all. This was obviously an attempt at getting a bribe from us, but unfortunately, they chose the wrong target - 4 cheap Asians, students at that. After this ordeal, a fellow passenger commented "I never thought having an American passport would be an advantage." Yes, quite ironic.
We finally make the 1 hour ride into Antigua and arrive sometime past 11. The city is gorgeous, especially at night. Cobblestone lined streets, pastel walls, colonial architecture. We pass under an arch that spans two buildings, and I read in my LP this morning that this arch was for the nuns to use, so they could cross without being seen.
The othe 6 get dropped off at their respective homestays and hotels while I find a cheap hotel to crash in for the night. We get off at one that was in my Lonely Planet, I pay my driver and tip him my hat, and I'm on my way.... except the hotel is full. We go to another place on my LP. Full as well. Third place? Closed by some ordinance. Fourth place is the charm, and I finally haul my pack up to my room and crash for the night.
This morning, I exchanged some dinero, paid for my room, got a cinnamon roll, and finally can get on the internet, since I didn't have any Quetzals (the currency here) to buy anything. The cinnamon roll wasn't that great, but it was the first real food I've eaten in over a day. I didn't eat anything at the airport because I figured I'd save my appetite for some delicious, cheap Guatemalan food once I got off the plane, but none was to be found - I guess it was a little ignorant of me to expect a food court at the aiport like they have in the States. Still, I figured my host/cook would have some good food too, but that didn't pan out either. So after subsisting on candied ginger and a pack of airplane pretzels, my taste buds are ready for an adventure. I hope my stomach doesn't have to come along for the ride.
My flight left at 6 30, got to Ft. Lauderdale around 8 30 (after a brief stop in Orlando) and waited a grueling 9 hours until my flight to Guatemala. Fortunately, I had a book, Mountains Beyond Mountains, and I managed to finish that during that time, so all was not wasted.
I finally arrive at the airport in Guatemala around 9 PM East coast time, 7 PM here, and I wait in the taxi parking area for someone to pick me up. There's this site called couchsurfing.com, where people offer their couches for people to crash on (yeah, I know, a bit shady, but at least it's free), so I had arranged to stay with this girl who happened to work for the same airline I flew in on, Spirit Airlines. It turned out she got off work at 8, so we figured, perfect, she'd pick me up after work, I don't mind waiting an hour or so for a free place to stay (plus, she's apparently a cook). I wait one hour. Ok, it's 8, but you know those Latin American people, they don't take time too seriously, and she probably needs some time to make it over. 8 30. Yeah..... maybe she just needs a little time. She had given me her number, but for some reason, the airport, of all places, doesn't have a place where you can exchange currency, so I couldn't make a call. I finally muster up the courage to ask some fellow Asian student looking types for some change to place a call, and when I call, no one picks up. These fellow students, Jane, James, and Justin (alliteration's great, ain't it?) are studying at a school in Antigua, and a shuttle is supposed to pick them up. It's about 9 by now, and I figure, hell, why don't I just go to Antigua tonight with them? The price of a taxi to downtown Guatemala City (GC) is the same as the shuttle ride to Antigua, and there's the possibility that Blaire and Roffwarg are going to be there. At around 9 30, their shuttle finally comes to pick them up, and I tag along.
We pick up a couple more students going to the school, and we're chugging on our way...... or so we thought. We're on the road less than 2 miles, and we see the flashing lights. Crap, we're caught. But what did we do wrong? Apparently, DWT (driving while tourists), apparently Asian ones especially. They ask for all of our passports, and after a few minutes, they tell the 4 of us Asians to get out. I'm wondering what the heck, this looks like racial profiling. For some reason, they say that just the 4 of us (not the 3 other people in the shuttle) have to go back with them to the police station to confirm our immigration. We keep asking why, and they don't seem to have a very clear explanation, so I sure as hell am not going to go the police station. They call in to their HQ, and insist that we must go with them. "No way, this is crap", I'm thinking to myself. Our shuttle driver speaks to them as well to confirm that he works for a school, and we're all going to this school (although he leaves out the part that I'm actually not), but unfortunately, he doesn't speak any English, so I was put in the place of translating all of this with my semi-competent Spanish. Then, these officers come back and say that Justin and James have to go with them because they don't have the necessary stamp in their passport, but Jane and I are ok. I tell them we have to stick together, so we'll follow them to the station, but the officers say, "No, you two are fine, just go along." Hell if I let two people go with them to the police station and have the rights violated, I tell them no.
Then, I remember reading somewhere that Guatemala, Belize, and Nicaragua have some sort of agreement where their citizens can pass between those countries freely. Funny thing is, these three Asian kids are actually from Belize. So why are they in Guate to learn Spanish? English is apparently the official language in Belize (but Jane has a Taiwanese passport). Learn something new everyday. I argue that James and Justin don't have the stamp in their passport because of the agreement, but they act like they have no idea what I'm talking about (or more likely, I didn't make any sense in my Spanish). We just sit around wondering what the heck we're going to do while one officer goes to talk to James and Justin off to the side. After maybe an hour of waiting, we're finally let go, like there was no incident at all. This was obviously an attempt at getting a bribe from us, but unfortunately, they chose the wrong target - 4 cheap Asians, students at that. After this ordeal, a fellow passenger commented "I never thought having an American passport would be an advantage." Yes, quite ironic.
We finally make the 1 hour ride into Antigua and arrive sometime past 11. The city is gorgeous, especially at night. Cobblestone lined streets, pastel walls, colonial architecture. We pass under an arch that spans two buildings, and I read in my LP this morning that this arch was for the nuns to use, so they could cross without being seen.
The othe 6 get dropped off at their respective homestays and hotels while I find a cheap hotel to crash in for the night. We get off at one that was in my Lonely Planet, I pay my driver and tip him my hat, and I'm on my way.... except the hotel is full. We go to another place on my LP. Full as well. Third place? Closed by some ordinance. Fourth place is the charm, and I finally haul my pack up to my room and crash for the night.
This morning, I exchanged some dinero, paid for my room, got a cinnamon roll, and finally can get on the internet, since I didn't have any Quetzals (the currency here) to buy anything. The cinnamon roll wasn't that great, but it was the first real food I've eaten in over a day. I didn't eat anything at the airport because I figured I'd save my appetite for some delicious, cheap Guatemalan food once I got off the plane, but none was to be found - I guess it was a little ignorant of me to expect a food court at the aiport like they have in the States. Still, I figured my host/cook would have some good food too, but that didn't pan out either. So after subsisting on candied ginger and a pack of airplane pretzels, my taste buds are ready for an adventure. I hope my stomach doesn't have to come along for the ride.
Saturday, June 16, 2007
Layover
I'm on a 1.5 day layover here in Atlanta before I jaunt off to Guatemala. It strikes me as a bit surreal how we can travel so far across the globe in such a short period of time. Just think, when our grandparents were our age, it would've taken weeks to travel the distance that I've traveled in just hours.
I'm a little bummed that my bud Praveen decided to come back early since he was supposed to be in Guate the whole summer, so it looks like I'll be traveling alone, unless Amit comes through and decides to come to Guate. For better or for worse, though, it sounds like there are plenty of American students in Xela, the town I'll probably spend most of my time in, so it shouldn't be too hard to meet people once I get there. The downside of this being that I won't be totally immersed in the language in culture, but the upside being that I won't be so isolated. It should be quite a change from last summer, so I'll be able to decide which I prefer in the future, if I ever get the chance to do this again.
A quick wrap up of Japan, mostly concerning the food, once again. Being the culinary connoiseur that I am, I try to eat pretty much the craziest things I can find. Some of the most memorable from this trip - chicken and horse... sashimi (raw), miso flavored ice cream, noni and seacuwasa (sp?, a citrus fruit from okinawa) jello, and durian.
I always thought that if people eat it, then it must be good..... or at least not bad. That assumption was completely destroyed by durian. The durian is a fruit infamous for its noxious odor. Found in Southeastern Asian countries such as Thailand, Philipines, etc. it stinks so bad they don't even carry fresh ones to the US since it'll stink up the plane. However, it's supposed to be quite delicious, and since I never get the opportunity to try fresh ones here, I just had to try it since they're available in Japan.
The fruit came peeled and double wrapped - once in Saran wrap and another in the regular plastic packaging. I open up the first package, and the odor flows forth, somewhat reminiscent of gyoza (pot stickers) but kind of like they've been sitting in garbage for a week. After shelling out 500 yen (almost $5) thought, I was determined to finish the whole thing. So it smells bad, it must still taste good, people pay pretty good money for this, I figured. I take one bite. Hmmm, tastes like it smells, maybe it takes some getting used to. Take another bite. Tastes just as bad, if not worse than the first time. Take another bite. Maybe if I just keep going at it more? Take a few more bites, and my mom tells me to stop since she doesn't want me getting sick. I try to argue, but I can't really argue what my taste buds are telling me either.
I guess I should've figured out that if it smells bad, then most likely it will taste bad since most of our sense of taste is actually linked to our sense of smell. However, I remember hearing that people just eat this stuff up. If so, bravo to those of you who can muster the appetite, but maybe you should get your nose checked?
I'm a little bummed that my bud Praveen decided to come back early since he was supposed to be in Guate the whole summer, so it looks like I'll be traveling alone, unless Amit comes through and decides to come to Guate. For better or for worse, though, it sounds like there are plenty of American students in Xela, the town I'll probably spend most of my time in, so it shouldn't be too hard to meet people once I get there. The downside of this being that I won't be totally immersed in the language in culture, but the upside being that I won't be so isolated. It should be quite a change from last summer, so I'll be able to decide which I prefer in the future, if I ever get the chance to do this again.
A quick wrap up of Japan, mostly concerning the food, once again. Being the culinary connoiseur that I am, I try to eat pretty much the craziest things I can find. Some of the most memorable from this trip - chicken and horse... sashimi (raw), miso flavored ice cream, noni and seacuwasa (sp?, a citrus fruit from okinawa) jello, and durian.
I always thought that if people eat it, then it must be good..... or at least not bad. That assumption was completely destroyed by durian. The durian is a fruit infamous for its noxious odor. Found in Southeastern Asian countries such as Thailand, Philipines, etc. it stinks so bad they don't even carry fresh ones to the US since it'll stink up the plane. However, it's supposed to be quite delicious, and since I never get the opportunity to try fresh ones here, I just had to try it since they're available in Japan.
The fruit came peeled and double wrapped - once in Saran wrap and another in the regular plastic packaging. I open up the first package, and the odor flows forth, somewhat reminiscent of gyoza (pot stickers) but kind of like they've been sitting in garbage for a week. After shelling out 500 yen (almost $5) thought, I was determined to finish the whole thing. So it smells bad, it must still taste good, people pay pretty good money for this, I figured. I take one bite. Hmmm, tastes like it smells, maybe it takes some getting used to. Take another bite. Tastes just as bad, if not worse than the first time. Take another bite. Maybe if I just keep going at it more? Take a few more bites, and my mom tells me to stop since she doesn't want me getting sick. I try to argue, but I can't really argue what my taste buds are telling me either.
I guess I should've figured out that if it smells bad, then most likely it will taste bad since most of our sense of taste is actually linked to our sense of smell. However, I remember hearing that people just eat this stuff up. If so, bravo to those of you who can muster the appetite, but maybe you should get your nose checked?
Monday, June 11, 2007
Rollin'
We rode the bullet train into Yokohama yesterday, the city made famous in rap songs for their tires. We came to meet up with some friends of ours who used to live in the States when we were growing up. The younger one and my brother are the same age, and they see each other occasionally because he's in college in the states, but the older one and I who are the same age haven't seen each other in probably 10 years or so, so it'll be a nice reunion of sorts.
The bullet train is pretty much the antithesis of the ubiquitous buses in third world countries. It's clean, quiet, fast, roomy, and expensive. It's nice, and something I'll appreciate that much more when I'm riding the rickety road vehicles they call "chicken buses" in Guatemala next week. We zoomed from Nagoya to Yokohama in about an hour, mostly at speeds in excess of 150 mph. When we arrived, we checked into our hotel, then met up with our friends for dinner at a Japanese place that served food - tapas style.
My brother stayed at their house last night, so my mom and I went out to breakfast this morning. What always strikes me about Japan is how good the food is, but especially the bread. I would argue that it's just as good, if not better than French bread, which is pretty much the gold standard of bread. The Vietnamese seem to have pretty good bread since they were a former French colony, along with some African countries, but I think Japan sent people to France back in the day to learn from the best and bring it back here. To give you an idea, if you could think of the best bread you've ever had in the US, that's the kind of bread that's available at every street corner Circle K in Japan. It makes me wonder, what in the world do they put in this bread that makes it so good? I'm thinking it must be the flour because the bread is so soft it feels like you're eating a cloud. Mmmm, clouds. That's it for now, I gotta go do some touristy stuff, peace out.
The bullet train is pretty much the antithesis of the ubiquitous buses in third world countries. It's clean, quiet, fast, roomy, and expensive. It's nice, and something I'll appreciate that much more when I'm riding the rickety road vehicles they call "chicken buses" in Guatemala next week. We zoomed from Nagoya to Yokohama in about an hour, mostly at speeds in excess of 150 mph. When we arrived, we checked into our hotel, then met up with our friends for dinner at a Japanese place that served food - tapas style.
My brother stayed at their house last night, so my mom and I went out to breakfast this morning. What always strikes me about Japan is how good the food is, but especially the bread. I would argue that it's just as good, if not better than French bread, which is pretty much the gold standard of bread. The Vietnamese seem to have pretty good bread since they were a former French colony, along with some African countries, but I think Japan sent people to France back in the day to learn from the best and bring it back here. To give you an idea, if you could think of the best bread you've ever had in the US, that's the kind of bread that's available at every street corner Circle K in Japan. It makes me wonder, what in the world do they put in this bread that makes it so good? I'm thinking it must be the flour because the bread is so soft it feels like you're eating a cloud. Mmmm, clouds. That's it for now, I gotta go do some touristy stuff, peace out.
Thursday, June 07, 2007
beautiful absurdities
Here begins a rehash of the past few days. Yesterday, our first full day in Japan, for lunch, we went to a nice pasta place that had a salad buffet. I would venture to say that the Japanese are becoming closer to the Americans in terms of waist size, but the Japanese have one thing going for them that Americans don't, we (Japanese) walk everywhere. On the other hand, I would also venture to say the food in Japan may be some of the best in the world, so that probably doesn't help either. Anyways, the food was great but the atmosphere a little too frou frou for my tastes, being filled 95% with mostly young and middle-aged Japanese women. In the background played Juanes, a Colombian pop star, and I smiled at the coincidence since I had been learning his songs to help me study Spanish the past couple of weeks. As nice as the restaurant was, I prefer the kinds of places where my cousin takes us, mostly full of middle-aged men eating stick-to-your bone type meals of ramen or other noodle in some hearty soup. That'll have to wait until this weekend when he comes back from work in the prefecture next door.
One thing I noticed about the restaurant - while the salad and stuff was buffet style, the plates, cups, utensils, everything are a smaller size. I would make a bet that if everyone in the US reduced the size of their plates, cups, bowls, etc. the US would see a massive reduction in the obesity epidemic. It's all psychological, but with the smaller plates, a regular amount of food looks a lot bigger. I think I read about this in the New York Times or somewhere, but the size of plates in American restaurants has grown through the past couple of decades, and the serving sizes have followed. Seems like such a small thing (no pun intended), but it could make a great difference in the health of many Americans.
Another thing that was striking about the restaurant, and everywhere else in Japan. The service is top notch, whether you go to the most expensive four star restaurant or whether you're sitting in some working man's food stall on the side of the street. At the same time, you walk through a department store, and the way the workers greet everyone is almost robotic that it does feel a little strange. I guess there's good and bad to that.
In the afternoon, we went to my dad's alma mater because a family friend of ours, one of them goes to the school now, and his mom and my mom are pretty good friends. He gave us a tour of the campus while our moms sat in a coffeeshop talking about mom things, and one thing struck me, or rather confused me. I can't decide who is more superficial - Japanese or Americans. The Japanese are extremely obsessed with brand names, even more so than Americans. We just had lunch with the aforementioned lady, and walking through one of the mall/deparment stores was like walking down a mini version of Fifth Avenue - Chanel, Coach, Cartier, Versace, the best brand names you could think of, and this wasn't even the best mall. However, walking around the school and seeing the classrooms, they are obviously not so concerned with the appearance of their buildings or their green spaces as much as their functionality. The green spaces between the buildings were left completely to nature, and while it looked nothing like the perfectly manicured lawns of the typical college quad, it still had its own sense of beauty. The classrooms were very utilitarian, perhaps even too much - our friend giving the tour claimed that they designed the chairs in the lecture halls, so that they were nearly impossible to fall asleep in. The hallways were sparse and had that familiar antiseptic smell of a hospital corridor. I feel like Americans aren't so fashion conscious, as our females will fawn over the fashionable Europeans, or anyone else for that matter, but if you look at everyone's house, university, building, everyone is competing with the Joneses.
It makes me a little sick to think about how much money went into the landscaping at Emory. One week, I spent every morning selling stuff for a bake sale outside, and I saw the landscaping crew replace flowers TWICE! I could understand once because perhaps it just happened to be that the week I was outside happened to be the week they were replacing flowers for the month, semester, whatever, but how do you explain the fact that they replaced them TWICE in the same week? Did they start turning brown? Umm...... anyone heard of watering them?
Walking back to the train station, we passed this beatiful enclave off the main street with an ancient temple set in the back. The interesting thing about Japan is the juxtaposition of modern and ancient, almost everywhere you go. Here in the middle of this modern city sits a serene grove of trees and shrubs with arches leading to a temple probably hundreds of years old. Next to the new house built in a modern Western style is the tin roofed house built in the poverty of post-war Japan. Upperclass Americans would throw a hissy fit over the lack of apparent building regulation in Japan, but it's just a way of life here. It's rich and poor all jumbled up into the same block, there's not much you see in the way of a uniform rich or poor neighborhood.
Last night, my uncle had to drive my aunt into the downtown area (if translated, it would be called "prosperous town") of Nagoya where she gives piano lessons, so he invited my brother and I to come hang out with him while he waited for her to finish. We ended up going to an internet cafe, but in Japan, what they basically have is a place where you can get on the internet, read manga or magazines, play video games, and drink (juice, coffee, coke, sorry no alcohol) for an hourly fee. The one place we went last night was super shady, kind of dark, and there were porno mags and vids lying around, so I felt kinda dirty and sticky leaving (not literally), but we ventured out again today, and my bro and I found a much cleaner place, so I won't feel as dirty leaving here this afternoon although the cigarette smell will still linger in my clothes.
I just noticed, looking at the price here, it would be much cheaper to pay for the 10 hour pack ($20 or so) and sleep here rather than in some hotel. They have a shower, comfy chairs, and a small closed cubicle, so you could easily sleep in one of these if you wanted to travel on a shoestring budget through Japan. When I was at the airport, I also saw an ad for a capsule hotel - essentially a hotel with beds that are lined up like the storage lockers in a morgue, yes I know, quite odd - but even that cost about $30, so I think you'd get a much better deal here.
I started reading Barack Obama's book Dreams of My Father on the airplane over since I forgot to bring much reading material, and one point has struck me so far about his story. He has, and always will be, an outsider. I can't say I've really made my mind up on him about his qualifications as a presidential candidate, but his book is a good look into the phenomenon of race in the US. While I can't claim to be black (although I could probably claim some ancestry considering my darkness), I can feel where he's coming from. However, I'll never claim to be a "victim" of this outsider phenomenon. In fact, I wouldn't have it any other way. Who else can see and appreciate the aspects of different cultures?
One thing I noticed about the restaurant - while the salad and stuff was buffet style, the plates, cups, utensils, everything are a smaller size. I would make a bet that if everyone in the US reduced the size of their plates, cups, bowls, etc. the US would see a massive reduction in the obesity epidemic. It's all psychological, but with the smaller plates, a regular amount of food looks a lot bigger. I think I read about this in the New York Times or somewhere, but the size of plates in American restaurants has grown through the past couple of decades, and the serving sizes have followed. Seems like such a small thing (no pun intended), but it could make a great difference in the health of many Americans.
Another thing that was striking about the restaurant, and everywhere else in Japan. The service is top notch, whether you go to the most expensive four star restaurant or whether you're sitting in some working man's food stall on the side of the street. At the same time, you walk through a department store, and the way the workers greet everyone is almost robotic that it does feel a little strange. I guess there's good and bad to that.
In the afternoon, we went to my dad's alma mater because a family friend of ours, one of them goes to the school now, and his mom and my mom are pretty good friends. He gave us a tour of the campus while our moms sat in a coffeeshop talking about mom things, and one thing struck me, or rather confused me. I can't decide who is more superficial - Japanese or Americans. The Japanese are extremely obsessed with brand names, even more so than Americans. We just had lunch with the aforementioned lady, and walking through one of the mall/deparment stores was like walking down a mini version of Fifth Avenue - Chanel, Coach, Cartier, Versace, the best brand names you could think of, and this wasn't even the best mall. However, walking around the school and seeing the classrooms, they are obviously not so concerned with the appearance of their buildings or their green spaces as much as their functionality. The green spaces between the buildings were left completely to nature, and while it looked nothing like the perfectly manicured lawns of the typical college quad, it still had its own sense of beauty. The classrooms were very utilitarian, perhaps even too much - our friend giving the tour claimed that they designed the chairs in the lecture halls, so that they were nearly impossible to fall asleep in. The hallways were sparse and had that familiar antiseptic smell of a hospital corridor. I feel like Americans aren't so fashion conscious, as our females will fawn over the fashionable Europeans, or anyone else for that matter, but if you look at everyone's house, university, building, everyone is competing with the Joneses.
It makes me a little sick to think about how much money went into the landscaping at Emory. One week, I spent every morning selling stuff for a bake sale outside, and I saw the landscaping crew replace flowers TWICE! I could understand once because perhaps it just happened to be that the week I was outside happened to be the week they were replacing flowers for the month, semester, whatever, but how do you explain the fact that they replaced them TWICE in the same week? Did they start turning brown? Umm...... anyone heard of watering them?
Walking back to the train station, we passed this beatiful enclave off the main street with an ancient temple set in the back. The interesting thing about Japan is the juxtaposition of modern and ancient, almost everywhere you go. Here in the middle of this modern city sits a serene grove of trees and shrubs with arches leading to a temple probably hundreds of years old. Next to the new house built in a modern Western style is the tin roofed house built in the poverty of post-war Japan. Upperclass Americans would throw a hissy fit over the lack of apparent building regulation in Japan, but it's just a way of life here. It's rich and poor all jumbled up into the same block, there's not much you see in the way of a uniform rich or poor neighborhood.
Last night, my uncle had to drive my aunt into the downtown area (if translated, it would be called "prosperous town") of Nagoya where she gives piano lessons, so he invited my brother and I to come hang out with him while he waited for her to finish. We ended up going to an internet cafe, but in Japan, what they basically have is a place where you can get on the internet, read manga or magazines, play video games, and drink (juice, coffee, coke, sorry no alcohol) for an hourly fee. The one place we went last night was super shady, kind of dark, and there were porno mags and vids lying around, so I felt kinda dirty and sticky leaving (not literally), but we ventured out again today, and my bro and I found a much cleaner place, so I won't feel as dirty leaving here this afternoon although the cigarette smell will still linger in my clothes.
I just noticed, looking at the price here, it would be much cheaper to pay for the 10 hour pack ($20 or so) and sleep here rather than in some hotel. They have a shower, comfy chairs, and a small closed cubicle, so you could easily sleep in one of these if you wanted to travel on a shoestring budget through Japan. When I was at the airport, I also saw an ad for a capsule hotel - essentially a hotel with beds that are lined up like the storage lockers in a morgue, yes I know, quite odd - but even that cost about $30, so I think you'd get a much better deal here.
I started reading Barack Obama's book Dreams of My Father on the airplane over since I forgot to bring much reading material, and one point has struck me so far about his story. He has, and always will be, an outsider. I can't say I've really made my mind up on him about his qualifications as a presidential candidate, but his book is a good look into the phenomenon of race in the US. While I can't claim to be black (although I could probably claim some ancestry considering my darkness), I can feel where he's coming from. However, I'll never claim to be a "victim" of this outsider phenomenon. In fact, I wouldn't have it any other way. Who else can see and appreciate the aspects of different cultures?
Monday, June 04, 2007
Summertime
Here's my summer plans 6/5 - 6/15 Japan, 6/17 - 7/12 Guatemala, 7/14 - 7/20 Camp Rainbow, then afterwards, a camping/road trip to the DC area with Sundeep and Amit to go see Gene and Co. This summer is likely to be the last real summer I ever have, so I'm trying to take advantage of it as much as I can.
I left Augusta Saturday after I did some last-minute packing and moving. I usually forget at least one thing when I pack that quickly, but I consider it part of the adventure. This time around? Boxers. Yes, I forgot to bring any boxers except for the pair I'm wearing right now. Smelly underwear is kind of adventurous, no? No worries, I'm having my mom bring some from San Antonio, so I'll be in a fresh pair in a couple days.
Don't have much else on my mind, but I thought I'd end with these lyrics from the Talking Heads which seem particularly fitting right now:
I left Augusta Saturday after I did some last-minute packing and moving. I usually forget at least one thing when I pack that quickly, but I consider it part of the adventure. This time around? Boxers. Yes, I forgot to bring any boxers except for the pair I'm wearing right now. Smelly underwear is kind of adventurous, no? No worries, I'm having my mom bring some from San Antonio, so I'll be in a fresh pair in a couple days.
Don't have much else on my mind, but I thought I'd end with these lyrics from the Talking Heads which seem particularly fitting right now:
And you may find yourself living in a shotgun shack check
And you may find yourself in another part of the world check
And you may find yourself behind the wheel of a large automobile it's in the shop
And you may find yourself in a beautiful house, with a beautiful wife not yet
And you may ask yourself-well...how did I get here? good question
Saturday, April 07, 2007
spring break '07
I guess I never ended up finishing my account of Ecuador from last summer, but school came at me fast - I guess we'll have to leave it at that. I've decided this is just going to be my travel blog, so I'll try and chronicle any future travels here.
My most recent travels took me to DC then NYC, then back to DC. Friday afternoon, I got a ride with Wes to Atlanta and met Gene at a gas station where we proceeded to go to a Korean restaurant to lunch. I had Korean food several times this past week, and I think I'm now
addicted. Something about the spicy and pungent kimchi along with all of the other condiments that are slightly reminiscent of Japanese dishes but just different enough. We left Atlanta on Friday around 4 - great timing, right - and arrived in DC around 2 AM with plenty of food in tow and sleep on our minds.
Next morning, we checked out the cherry blossom festival, climbed a building to rescue a kite that was stuck, and then hopped on a bus to NYC only to arrive to the reincarnation of winter. Childs met us and we proceeded to a "writers' bar" where we were left with a $35 bar tab for 2 pitchers of beer. No wonder it's a writers' bar - anyone else with any mathematical skill would realize that's a ripoff. Or I guess it could've just been NYC. Makes me glad I live in a city with $1 PBR's.
Sunday, we headed over to Coney Island as Brian interviewed various people for an article he was writing. Gene and I got a free ride on the Cyclone ($6 value) ate some hot dogs at the famed Nathan's, and enjoyed the rest of the park before it's imminent leveling at the hands of developers by the end of the year. That afternoon, we headed back to the city to meet up with some fellow Georgians, or Dawgs to be more specific, to enjoy some NY pizza and beer. Still inebriated, we boarded the bus back to DC and concluded our one day excursion of the Big Apple.
Monday through Friday were kind of similar. Given that all of the people I know in DC are either working or in school, they were all busy during the day, so I occupied myself by walking around the city, reading, and going to museums with the other MCGers, Zubair, Pooja, and Khanh. Met plenty of people from college and ran into plenty more by accident. Funny how that works, must be some sort of statistical probability that given you know 10 people in a city with a population of a few mill, you're bound to run into half of them by accident. Lunch with Niles, 10 cent wings with 'Beel, and beer with Mike capped the evenings.
Given that I did a lot of reading and a lot of walking around and people watching, I think I've learned some things:
Many of the homeless are simply people with mental illnesses that don't have the resources or the support to control their illness. What can we do about this? I wouldn't choose to be homeless, but I've discovered that I could actually live pretty well as a homeless person (it's a long explanation). However, that's because I've been socialized with upper-middle class society and I'm sane (relatively). Some of these homeless people would have nice sleeping bags, nice shoes, nice shirts (I'm not sure how), but you could tell they were homeless because of their mannerisms. I could take on the homeless "look", but I would have to consciously learn how to "act" homeless. Is this acting teachable? I think it is, so maybe that's where we start, along with resources to help the mentally ill.
Mike made a good point. I think he always tells people med school is easy - partially because he's crazy - but if you really think about it, it's true. Some people go on and on about how med school is so hard. So much studying, so little time, so much pressure. In the whole scheme of things, any type of schooling is not that hard. Hard is living with a disability, a single parent supporting two kids while working two jobs, a shot of Golden Grain, a rock. School is a luxury that only a few of us can enjoy. School is like that non-alcoholic O'Doul's or sand on the beach.
Reading Confessions of an Economic Hit Man
changed my whole perception of international policy. I learned things about the history of US foreign policy that I never knew, and I'll never look at foreign aid the same way. Everyone should read it, and I think it'll hit especially close to home for those of you who have connections to Latin America or the Middle East. If you want to borrow it, let me know.
My most recent travels took me to DC then NYC, then back to DC. Friday afternoon, I got a ride with Wes to Atlanta and met Gene at a gas station where we proceeded to go to a Korean restaurant to lunch. I had Korean food several times this past week, and I think I'm now
addicted. Something about the spicy and pungent kimchi along with all of the other condiments that are slightly reminiscent of Japanese dishes but just different enough. We left Atlanta on Friday around 4 - great timing, right - and arrived in DC around 2 AM with plenty of food in tow and sleep on our minds.Next morning, we checked out the cherry blossom festival, climbed a building to rescue a kite that was stuck, and then hopped on a bus to NYC only to arrive to the reincarnation of winter. Childs met us and we proceeded to a "writers' bar" where we were left with a $35 bar tab for 2 pitchers of beer. No wonder it's a writers' bar - anyone else with any mathematical skill would realize that's a ripoff. Or I guess it could've just been NYC. Makes me glad I live in a city with $1 PBR's.
Sunday, we headed over to Coney Island as Brian interviewed various people for an article he was writing. Gene and I got a free ride on the Cyclone ($6 value) ate some hot dogs at the famed Nathan's, and enjoyed the rest of the park before it's imminent leveling at the hands of developers by the end of the year. That afternoon, we headed back to the city to meet up with some fellow Georgians, or Dawgs to be more specific, to enjoy some NY pizza and beer. Still inebriated, we boarded the bus back to DC and concluded our one day excursion of the Big Apple.Monday through Friday were kind of similar. Given that all of the people I know in DC are either working or in school, they were all busy during the day, so I occupied myself by walking around the city, reading, and going to museums with the other MCGers, Zubair, Pooja, and Khanh. Met plenty of people from college and ran into plenty more by accident. Funny how that works, must be some sort of statistical probability that given you know 10 people in a city with a population of a few mill, you're bound to run into half of them by accident. Lunch with Niles, 10 cent wings with 'Beel, and beer with Mike capped the evenings.
Given that I did a lot of reading and a lot of walking around and people watching, I think I've learned some things:
Many of the homeless are simply people with mental illnesses that don't have the resources or the support to control their illness. What can we do about this? I wouldn't choose to be homeless, but I've discovered that I could actually live pretty well as a homeless person (it's a long explanation). However, that's because I've been socialized with upper-middle class society and I'm sane (relatively). Some of these homeless people would have nice sleeping bags, nice shoes, nice shirts (I'm not sure how), but you could tell they were homeless because of their mannerisms. I could take on the homeless "look", but I would have to consciously learn how to "act" homeless. Is this acting teachable? I think it is, so maybe that's where we start, along with resources to help the mentally ill.
Mike made a good point. I think he always tells people med school is easy - partially because he's crazy - but if you really think about it, it's true. Some people go on and on about how med school is so hard. So much studying, so little time, so much pressure. In the whole scheme of things, any type of schooling is not that hard. Hard is living with a disability, a single parent supporting two kids while working two jobs, a shot of Golden Grain, a rock. School is a luxury that only a few of us can enjoy. School is like that non-alcoholic O'Doul's or sand on the beach.
Reading Confessions of an Economic Hit Man
changed my whole perception of international policy. I learned things about the history of US foreign policy that I never knew, and I'll never look at foreign aid the same way. Everyone should read it, and I think it'll hit especially close to home for those of you who have connections to Latin America or the Middle East. If you want to borrow it, let me know.
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