Appreciating balance, India and the Contradictions of East vs. West Medicinal Practices

"You know a choreographed dance.." I said to my friend Amanda who wore a blank face. "Like the Bollywood movies," I continued.

"Agh, yes, and why are you so obsessed?" She asked curiously with a warm smile.

"I think I should have married an Indian man, so that we could have a dance that brought us together."

A man standing about 2 feet away from me "An Indian man, eh? I can help you with that." He said looking down at my ring with a smile that melted me... 

I smelled trouble and intrigue all at once. That was the beginning of an emotional affair with India that has continued over the last 6 years. India has followed me, haunted me. Curry powders and cardamom swirled around me in Dubai. 2 of my best guy friends are Indians. My indian students loved that I loved every little priceless thing about their culture. I convinced my colleagues that we had to do Dhandiya (the Indian stick dance) and Jai Ho, for the international day celebration. I am in serious withdrawal from masala, rogan josht and ramblings with Indian taxi drivers, oh cultural melting pot of Dubai.. Every year, I personally celebrate Holi, whether it be through a meal or a colorful bath or personal ceremony. I think that the celebration of spring and the color that it brings into our lives, the richness, the new life is immensely important to all of our well beings whether we recognize the holiday or not.

Being a child of a Czech, Scando and Scottish background, with sunshine yellow hair and blue eyes; every Indian I came in contact with had a right to be suspect. I am American. Strangely, India is not a country that Americans are overly detested. And I love color in my wardrobe, art, aura healing. I definitely believe in the power of yoga, karma, and ayurvedic healing; so the commonalities were there but we're human and sadly, if we have eyes that see we do judge books by there covers. Still the same, I always felt safe when I was in India and I never felt like an outsider. And my friends get it, how many times in the last 3 years have I been told, "You are just like an Indian in your way of thinking," or "I am sure you were Indian in a past life."

So, where is this random post coming out of. While, I have been ill the last few days and as I have over the last few years, I have a continued debate of eastern medicine vs. western medicine. I would like to believe that I could completely invest myself in not resorting to antibiotics and IVs and more, especially after 5 hours in the emergency room yesterday; inhaling pure oxygen, getting injected with 2 drips and finally, getting given the same prescription I had self-prescribed 3 days prior. Still, when in serious pain and after trying all the bells and whistles of holistic medicine in prior experiences, I believe it all comes back to balance.

At the moment, I am drugged up on some antibiotics but today, I began oil pulling, which is supposed to help with sinus issues (of which I have at least 1-2 infections a year). The last three days, I have been doing star anise, aniseed, ginger and clove steams. And finally, choking down whole cloves of garlic.. And I'd like to believe that it is actually the combination of both that are fighting hard to ensure that I can drink wine with good friends in Spain in 36 hours..

Fingers crossed.

Raised primarily in the midwest, but having spent 1/3 of my life living abroad across the continents, I'd like to think that I am taking a little bit of everything with me. Things are definitely no different when it comes to being the product of so many different medical systems: Capitalist insurance thievery of the US; Socialized brilliance of the UK; $3 doctor stops in Korea from everything to chest consultations to acupuncture; and alternative therapies in India. Clearly, I have no choice but to weed out the good and find a wealthy individual to fund my somewhat perfect system on a gorgeous relatively warm island. Or I could always move to France as Michael Moore romanticized the hell out of their system and French boys, wine, fois gras, I could get used to it...

Still, India somehow lingers more than the rest and whispers float from globetrotters that it's waiting. I hope so..

Is all this education helping us or hurting us?

So, now you've got 2 masters and a Ph. D or you're currently studying something new and wonderful in your field? Can you honestly reflect and look back at the knowledge that you have gained and used over the last number of years and say it's helped? Or has it hurt?

There are 3 areas I am going to discuss where education has affected the way we do things. The first will be medicine and our increased tendency to self prescribe. The next is our daily interactions with each other in our places of employment. Finally, the last is all of this education is causing us to dream big but really not know what the hell we want to do. In other words, our ability to focus on some sort of honed in bigger picture, has become impossible for a ton of over-educated people I know, including myself.

This afternoon, I participated in a game that was about building a consensus. It was a simple pretense but there was a twist. One group (mine) had a certain agenda to ruin and frustrate the other people playing the game, in other words, they were the antagonist. Quite often, the antagonist seems to be the one in the 'know' or the one who has more up to date education. It doesn't necessarily mean that it's right, but it's what is hot, what people are talking about and what the world is studying? So, why shouldn't everybody else be on board right?

But is this knowledge power; or is it a threat to ourselves and each other? Tonight, I went to the local pharmacy. Being a pro when it comes to antibiotics, I looked online and thought, what do I need for sinusitis? This is what it feels like, I've probably had it 10 times in my life: headaches, runny nose, tight chest, droopy sore eyes.. So, I google: drugs for sinusitis, I get a number and after doing 15 minutes of research, I head to the pharmacy. I ask the pharmacist or technician behind the counter if they have the drug. She finds something similar, asks me what it's for. I tell her sinusitis. She calls her supervisor and double checks that the drug is normally prescribed for sinusitis and bam, in 4.5 minutes, I have a 7-day prescription of antibiotics.

So, some of you in Asia or other places where this is normal practice, are probably wondering, what's the big deal? In the US, this whole thing would have happened in approximately 1 hour to 5 days depending on insurance and availability. The whole ability to go on-line, self-prescribe and feel better, doesn't seem outrageous.

That being said, last year, I did the same thing with a chronic ear infection and ended up with large balls of fungi growing in my ears (gross, I know)... Luckily, I personally only have the tendency to self prescribe when I know how I am feeling; or when it's a familiar feeling that I have had a number of times. Still, I have the potential to hurt myself and not many people in the way of me doing it, if I wanted too, which is scary...

The other big area that has been influenced by us all becoming ridiculously over educated is how we treat each other. Having worked in international schools for the last 5 years, I am surrounded by a number of individuals with varying levels of education. All of whom believe that they are doing things the best way. Then again, I have found that this is a realm where it is easier to work with people who are recently educated. Like medicine, education is constantly reinventing itself and just because something worked 30 years ago doesn't necessarily mean it's the best way to do things now.

To be current, stay on top of your game and be challenged by your environment in a positive way, I would recommend constant education in your professional lives. It's how we remain sane and determine what we love doing or hate doing.

Finally, the last realm of my very unfocussed ramble here, is just that "unfocussed ramble." Over the last 10 years, I have met some of the most creative human beings in their fields; the CEO of the Middle Eastern version of Ebay; a director of one of India's radical advertising companies; one of the world's youngest and up and coming chefs; progressive educators whose ideas rattle off their tongues like quick rappers and more. And with all of them, their ideas and whim are gorgeous and ridiculously energizing, but determining what's next or what's not in the realm of work is terrifying? All of the education that we have that transforms into passion sometimes creates the inability for us to focus on other realms of our lives that are not related to that educated passion. What a mess! A simple example is the use of facebook to express our opinions and ideas and share information with each other. How brilliant that we can communicate and express ourselves over the internet and this hyper intelligence has helped us to not only reflect and share our own perspectives but also be exposed to others. Still the same, I can't help but being overwhelmed and invigorated simultaneously, wanting to know more and more, and share, share, share.

Still, after re-reading this blurb, I think I've given myself a headache coming back full circle to debating on whether it hurts or helps? I guess the reason I feel it sometimes hurts is largely because of feeling unable to use all of my education to help people effectively, which comes back to knowing what the hell I want to do with the rest of my life...

"Oh how I wish I could shut up like a telescope! I think I could, if I only knew how to begin." Alice in Wonderland.. Lewis Carroll

My soundtrack for 2010

January: Meet me halfway. Black Eyed Peas, cause Heather and I busted a move every single time we heard it, from 7-11s to outside of Omani mosques

February: I’m waiting for the man- 2ManyDJs job fair, Wadi Bih and RAK half… I was waiting for the man to carry me to the end of this month

March: Time to Pretend- MGMT… because I started to pretend that Venezuela was going to be just like Spain.. right..

April: Change- Daniel Merriweather.. Big changes were dancing around me on so many levels

May: The Time (Dirty Bit)- Black Eyed Peas.. because May was a spectacular month for friends, fun, work, etc.

June: Make this go on forever- Snow Patrol. Essentially this is how I felt about my last few days in Dubai, being in Korea and being surrounded by all these gorgeous individuals I love.

July: One more cup of coffee- Bob Dylan… The amount of traveling I did this month, I felt I was always having one more cup of coffee, good byes…

August: Go Outside-The Cults, because this is exactly what you need to do when you are in a beautiful and crazy new city..

September: We no speak Americano- Yolanda Be Cool.. because speaking Venezuelan Spanish is virtually impossible.

October: Neon Bible- Arcade Fire. A rollercoaster of a month with work, boys, friends…

November: Be yourself- Graham Nash. One of my hardest months, personally and professionally but this song seems to encompass that you have to remain true to who you are.

December: More than a feeling- Boston.. because I know that the feeling of needing some people around me is just more than that.

Moths in the lamplight

I know the title of this article sounds like an album title. Probably a fun task for my next two days off; coming up with an album of songs that represent the year thus far; maybe a song a month. If you could generate an application that produced a list of songs, that would be pretty amazing too. I guess coming back as a techie in my next life would be interesting, I feel like I am being set up to do that by the overdoses of tech I absorb everyday. Nonetheless, I like the album idea, task, see how if I can start a trend. Will do and post the challenge to others, as it seems like a good thinking and reflecting task.

It's funny, the last time I wanted to start a tried was about 10 years ago in college, when I was sure that everyone should reuse Basmati rice bags, because A) they're cute and B) it's good for the environment (I realize how terribly blonde this sounds)... but it caught on a bit and for awhile canvas and reused bags were all the rage...

I spent the last 10 minutes watching outside my bedroom window, a moth flutter around the street light. It reflected and glowed against the damp, dim night setting, but it moved around magically like a little ember of light. And if I can see beauty in these moments, then I am either losing the plot, or feeling a bit better.

I guess it was yesterday when Ronnie was texting me at midnight, unable to sleep and I was 2 hemispheres away feeling exactly the same way. I am humbled to know that I am not the only one feeling lost in transition... I like to blame things on planetary alignment when things seem to rain down hard on a lot of people in different places around the world.

I went to the colonial area of Caracas today. It was a nice afternoon, talking about the differences in east and west and really being able to verbalize the purpose behind this project that I want to do. I think that I am ready to go to the wolves in January and go to get the money. I know what I am talking about and doing and I don't feel scared to go do it anymore. I mean, nothing good comes out of being afraid... I won't be hosting any parties in La Vega next year, but I want to continue to see the other side of Venezuela and the more I go out, the more I use my Spanish and the more I learn how to blend with what I wear, the more I am beginning to want to understand Venezuelanos and really share their stories and realities with the world.

Finally, I applied to lead the Experiment in International living again today. It's a summer program for high school students and I feel now I would be more capable than my application 5 years back. Additionally, in anticipation of a career change in 2-3 years, it would add something fresh to my resume that is a bit (only a tad bit) but off the beaten path of the traditional classroom... weehee, experiential learning...

I'll return to the burning lamp with fireballs doing aerials around the light... xox

The Ones Who Get It

Here's to the crazy ones....

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4oAB83Z1ydE

I'd like to believe and truly do so that my friends fall in this category. Each and everyone of them has their unique spirit, dreams, possibilities, quirks and individualities that make a greater contribution to the world.

And so does everyone obviously, but there's those that get it, that get me and I get their mission, their purpose, their laughter and vice versa. And together, we have magical moments that no one else can even try to duplicate, places and activities will NEVER replace people and their unlimited whims and wonders.

So, on this fine night when dreaming, I will go to that place, a new heaven, where all my friends are there, as we listen to classic rock, eat divine food and are surrounded by a canopy of green with occasional gentle rains. The room will be filled with laughter and stories of old, new from around the world, adventures that came and go, but moments that each of them can relate to because "they get it."

I miss you all more than I could ever say and just hope that we share more moments in this lifetime and pronto..

Intoxicating dance moves

We have been off for the last few days and as I sit down in my colorful apartment, with fresh flowers and a glass of red wine next to, through the many thoughts, talks with the other Heather, work, runs, agony with the shipment, I feel somewhat at peace.

That and this afternoon, I got to be a part of something else quite amazing here. There's something about dance that gets me going, makes me feel alive, exhilarates and intoxicates me. I have a total guilty pleasure for dance movies. Dirty Dancing was and still is a huge favorite even with its agonizingly painful script. Nowadays, the Step-Ups and Centerstages, remakes of Fame, I will sit through the excrutiatingly awful writing just to replay the dance scenes again and again and pretty much dance around my apartment doing, while attempting to do what the pros are.

So, when I saw the show "Lo Bailao" today, I was rejuvenated and uplifted and reenergized even though the rain has resurfaced. A flamenco show with women spanned across at least 5 generations with enough energy to awaken a sleepy caveman.. It made the call and drive to take Tango classes more necessary. It made me secretly long to come back as a Spanish women and revive this beautiful dance movement on an international level. I came home and tried to find some music to stomp around and create beats. I became obsessed for a bit, enough so that I want to write about how intoxicated I feel about dance. Perhaps in a past life, I was a dancer, but I don't think so, I am definitely baby giraffish when it comes to busting a move. Perfect for house, 80s and electro bouncy music and modern dance perhaps, there is some hope with flamenco to as it combines hips and arms, which could be to my advantage. Nonetheless, salsa, waltzing, etc, I can do it all, but not naturally. I took ballet and tap as a kid and disliked my teacher which caused me to drop out. Nonetheless, in high school, I returned and took modern dance for 3 years, and while I was never the star of the show, it was a perfect way for me to get the creative performance artist inside of me out and playing. That and dancing next to the inspiration of green fuzzy pants' boys at 80s' nights at Cains ballroom. In college, I busted one too many flip-flops on dance floors bouncing around or outside on big beach parties or fields or whatever it may have been. Since then, I continue to bust a move, but not enough and one weekend in with too many dance movies on hand, caused a sudden motivation to learn tango. That and I think it's a kinda sexy dance to learn when you're 30. You can still pull it off, if I can get rid of my silly demeanor for two seconds and apply the other far too 90% serious about life part to my dancing. This might be somewhat impossible given that dancing is such a release for me and I enjoy it because I don't take myself too seriously.

Anywise, the groove is in my heart, I gotta get my dance shoes on and get on the floor.

xo

Cooking a turkey and getting your hands dirty...

Yesterday, I completed another one of my 101 things to do in life, cooking a turkey alone. It turned out gorgeous.. I was compulsively nervous that it would take hours more to cook then anticipated or that it was not defrosted enough.

Preparing it was more fun than I would have imagined. I made a melted herb butter and got my hands right into the turkey by rubbing it under the skin and ontop. Before the wonders of Williams and Sonoma, where cooks were raw and real, we got our hands dirty. In fact, this is a metaphor for my current dilemma with life right now, that I am not getting my hands dirty enough.

As someone who trained as an artist for 4 years in university and spent 4-8 hours a day living in a studio, basking in the stiff clay chafing off my jeans or finding serenity in the darkness of the dark room, working with my hands is something that is an essential part of me. Perhaps, this is where my adoration for cooking comes for, much like the groove I would get into throwing pots for 6 hours listening to Bob Dylan or sculpting away to Macy Gray on my giant tables, making clay over a 6 pack of beer and Taj Mahal tapes.. Perhaps, this is why painting my apartment last week was therapeutic. Music and moments that went with them that made college and art combine together in a delicious combination. Having a physical product to enjoy, whether to eat or sit still and remind you of the process and the time in your life that helped/ caused you to generate such art.

It all goes back to balance and making sure that you are supporting those realms; the artistic, the monetary; the physical; the friends; the wanderer; the lover; the sister/ daughter; I guess ideally your work should really be about all those things. Finding that perfect balance is difficult and of course takes time, and just because you are good at something doesn't necessarily mean you should be doing it forever..

Mas, mas tarde... Buenas noches..

Wandering, wondering and wanting a home.

I just finished reading one of my favorite blogs "www.farbeyondthestars.com." This man writes about maintaining a minimal lifestyle, one that after the shipping debaucle, many hours and $1000 of taxes later, I began seeing his side and theory. Yet, today on Thanksgiving, he wrote about how the minimalist lifestyle somehow does not give one the sense of having a home. How right he his, particularly, when I can tell you that painting my apartment the last week was one of the things that has made my apartment appealing and enjoyable, livable since I have been here. That and finally, somewhat embracing my life here. Those things that we might not consider necessary, like sparkly golden candles or a duvet, are things that make us feel warm and cozy and remind us of the simple things that we grew up with all around us.

The green and gold walls that were quite the task with a primary paintbrush and without a ladder give my apartment a warmth that I have missed since being here. When I moved into my second apartment in Dubai, I felt as if I would have stayed, simply because the entire place matched my personality's needs. Having my computer, so that I can keep in contact with those I love around the world is an essential tool, especially when you are in a new place and can't help but feel left out of it all.

So the blogger's argument of how being a minimalist and moving around the world can't really go together if you are looking to create a sense of comfort, home, etc. in the places you go is quite on the ball. Unfortunately, right now, especially after the shipping drama, I am pretty sure I can happily and gratefully declare that my friends are my most favorite possession and they are inevitably what help me to love a place and bring out the best in me. Too bad, I can't ship them everywhere with me. Something to consider on a future move. I am definitely coming back as a physicist in my next life to work on the whole teleporting thing. I smell international celebrityhood and nobel prize for shizzle.

Nonetheless, on this Thanksgiving, when it is time to say thank you for everything. I'd like to thank god for my ableness, my long legs to run, my health. I'd like to thank my family for being there, for supporting me through good times and bad. I'd like to thank my friends for listening. I'd like to thank my colleagues for being patient and bold and fighting for what they believe in, no matter how hard it is. And, I'd like to thank the earth for enveloping me in these green, lush hills and foggy clouds...

30 is the New 13

A few days ago on the salon chair impatiently tapping my foot, trying to meditate and reflect on something to find inner peace or the meaning of my existence. And in this reflection, I looked at myself and was reminded of a mere 17 years back, sitting on the salon chair, having a blow out, trying to make sense of my adolescence, my acne, my friends getting boobs before me or being over it because they had them at the ripe old age of 9, the point of my education, me being a baby awkward giraffe, having horribly anxious and annoyed feeling about boys. The moment of reflection I was having on reflecting I realized was not far from my current reality.

While, I have aged 17 years, not much has changed. I still have the occasional acne flare up that stresses me out. My friends are getting married or having children nowadays instead of getting larger boobs. Then again, I am sure there are some getting boobs too for the second time, especially in Venezuela. There are others like myself, who've been there done that with the wedding and divorce and wonder what's next? Can we be reborn in such a short time? Do you get to be the bridegroom married to amazement more than once in your life? God, I hope so. In addition, it's no longer education but trying to figure out exactly how to use all my education. In doing so, I am trying to determine the best and appropriate and inspiring direction of my professional career.

I still often feel anxious and horribly annoyed by boys actions. Perhaps now more than ever because I didn't really have any expectations of them back then. Well, I am sure I did but I wasn't nearly as self aware of them all. Still, this is a tricky area where rebirth is needed. Sometimes, I feel like the walls of toughness I build around me are too complex and difficult for me to understand how they got built and why?

In saying all this, the rebirth question resurfaces, and with all the comments of 30s is the new 20s, and 40s the new 30s, those cliche statements that make us hopeful about our next decade of life.. Truth is, one has to be hopeful and believe that if you're still here it can only get better in one realm or more. And 13 being the next 30, I really could run with this, I mean my 20s were pretty fun, if somehow I can inspire myself and my body to live through this "take 2" who knows what adventures lie down the road.

Smiles abound. X

Just a spoonful of peanut butter and a glass of vino blanco make the medecine go down..

What? You are probably wondering what on earth is this chick on about? I mean, how do those things go together in any way, shape or form?

It's been a good 3 months since I have had raw, straight from the jar, protein pumped spoons of peanut butter. It used to be a popular hunger stopper in Dubai, so you can only imagine when my generally smoke free self and all of the sudden having a few more food craving self, felt when it was impossible to get.

So after a New York Times "Eat your heart out in Trinidad and Tobago in 36 hours" stop, I picked up some necessities that are of course easier to get on a small island in the middle of the Caribbean than in a socialist country in the middle of South America.

To spice up my life, I got about 10 packets of spices from Masala, to Saffron, to Celery Salt and more fun.. For the slight health nut within, some Chocolate Soy Milk and Peanut Butter. For the Thai cook in me, some lime tortilla chips and finally, for the must eat breakfast since it's approximately 6 hours between meals on work days, some gourmet granola bars. It's been nearly 6 years since I felt the restraints of culinary pleasures. After being able to eat essentially whatever I wanted throughout college and then, head off to South Korea where a small block of cheddar hit you $7 usd, I learned quickly, everything you need is often not right here in your hands. Nevertheless, after a myriad of moves getting progressively easier and easier and adoring the fruits and vegetables of tropical Thailand, my hopes for Venezuela's culinary delights have been flushed down the toilet.

I suppose I never realized the importance of cooking in keeping me sane. The things that balance us our inevitably our passions and so, for me, that equals: Running, yoga, some kind of artistic expression (writing, throwing pots, painting or whatever) travel, food and the art of making it, tasting it, buying it and more, and diving into new lessons and researching them and making them absolutely wonderful..

So, tonight, as I sit down at the computer to get it all out, the writing, the frustration, the torment over the lack of quality produce, my simple pleasures seem extravagant requests in the country to which I have returned. So, of course, it's completely rational to have a glass of wine and 2 spoonfuls of peanut butter and consider that an acceptable dinner.

There is some reason I am here. There always is, in the meantime, laugh, pray, smile and explore cause the three you thrived for this year have dwindled to one over the last few months. Maintain what you can and set new goals. Be realistic.

Hearts...

Some things I realized

As I finish off a book entitled the "Happiness project," I feel the need to write down some thoughts. It's taken me 6 months to get through this somewhat uplifting, somewhat preachy, somewhat annoying text. I don't know if I like that the author is constantly compromising herself for other people. I mean life is obviously a series of compromises, but should we not win some as well. Maybe the small wins are the ones we take for granted, who knows.

Things I realized in the past 6 months.

-Sticking my head under hot water or the back of my neck, is pretty much as exhilarating as going out into a field and screaming loudly. It seems to release almost everything.

-This has been a roller-coaster of a year. Relationships, moves, health issues, etc.

-Having said that, my family still is around to support me. My heart is still beating strongly. My eyes are generally clear. My friends surround me with warm wishes. Someone is looking out for me.

-Venezuela has probably been the toughest country I have ever moved to and stayed.

-Music can parallel my moods, can help them shift into positive or sad ones, but mostly is something that is extremely medicinal to me.

-Interval running isn't as bad as everyone thinks.

-I love my job and learn more every week but I still am not sure it's what I am supposed to do forever.

-My current before I die I want to status still stands at flash mob dancing.

-If something is easy or somewhat easy, let it be, develop comfort to a certain level before you rush out to change anything drastic.

-I miss my wine buddies, my runs to yoga, my dancing Champagne nights with Egyptian women, inspiring chats with bald men, getting 3 new outfits each month at H and M, morning cappucinos and the shagging wagon more than I ever thought I would.

-The shipping debaucle is making me absolutely neurotic and is trickling down into family, work, friends. When do you let go and admit defeat?

-Blogging is my new form of journalling, sadly, after tons and tons of journals before I was married to now. The words on a computer screen just can't emit as much emotion; no matter how powerful they are.

A Walk on the Wild Side

When we rocked up to the domestic airport last Saturday morning, Kathy, Sergio, Christa and I couldn't have imagined the week we had ahead of us filled with monkeys tied to trees, mice (mini, jumping and creepy), Indigenous stories reminiscent of ghost stories from girl scout campfires and much more.

A week in the wild was liberating, it was good to be completely immersed in green, savannahs and water. But more, it was good to get out of Caracas. I am still trying to figure out what exactly I did to Caraquenos in one of my past lives to be spoon fed the crap I am getting here.

Nonetheless, back to Salto Angel and more. It all started with a white pinto, ala 1964, driven by Tomas, a kind of older looking Venezuelan porn star, who drove us to a posada in the middle of nowhere, think deliverance meets white trash backyard with anorexic horses lurking in the nearby pasture. We swam in lukewarm water, took cat naps in hammocks, drank very sour but tasty cuba libres and began our week long meal plan consisting of bread, rice, potatoes and any other carbohydrate you could imagine. Thank goodness for the green engulfing me physically because I was not ingesting anything that color.

After a night in a cave like room, we returned to Ciudad Bolivar to get on our Transmandu airline flight to Uruyen.

Some background info: I am not a good flyer. I admit to it, I get the wobbles, I say "Hail Marys." I often pray to Buddha, Allah, Mohammad, Jesus and whoever else is listening when there is a shake, rattle or roll in the plane. I've had two emergency ascensions in the last 3 years. I take at least 25 flights a year, I think I have a reason but still.

Anywho, this plane was small, 6 seats including the pilots. The pilot was a Venezuelan version of Richard Gere which was comforting. I mean, it's always nice to have something to look at that's handsome if you are on the verge of hitting the ground. We got up and it was remarkably smooth, and took an absolutely brilliant 2 hour plane ride to a little eco village with adobe huts with straw roofs.

Here we met our guide for the next two days, Clemente, a member of the Canamokota tribe, who led us up waterfalls fearlessly and told us stories of dumb rivers and rocks that kills people ala black magic.

The first night in a hut, we found a friendly visitor frolicking between both Sergio and Kathy's room and Christa and I's room. There was a creepy little mouse who shit all over the room and scaled the walls like an old pro. We insisted on moving huts and ended up four in a room with a safety in numbers theory. However, it didn't matter because karmic retribution prevailed and Kathy and I ended up with legs that look a bit like we have contracted leprosy between the mosquitoes, puri puri and perhaps, (but hopefully not) bed bugs.

The next day after more waterfalls, pasta, bread, a small canoe ride, etc. I was sitting on the toilet trying to go, but the carbs were not having it. All of the sudden another little friendly mouse, runs out from a small hole in the bathroom wall and runs all over the room. Still, because Clemente thought we were big wimps, we decided that we would live with the little bugger that evening.

The next day we hopped aboard the plane to head to Canaima to gear up for our trek to Angel Falls. After a meal of very chewy grizzle and rice, we saw 6 of the most picturesque waterfalls I have ever seen, pretty much look like they came off a screen saver or maybe they were the inspiration for one. Still, chilling out behind waterfalls was pretty surreal, a combination of being in a giant rainstorm, dream, and then the 3 palm trees in the middle of the lagoon felt very Salvador Dali-esque....

Finally, on Wednesday, we set out to Angel Falls, 3 hours in a boat and 1.5 hour hike later, we saw it, the one, the only tallest waterfall in the world. It was pretty amazing but the whole thing was definitely like last fall break, about the journey and not the destination.

Christa and I had a momentary scare when we decided to trek down the path by ourselves. It pissed rain and we sat for an hour at dusk on some hot rocks along the river for awhile, thinking about what we would do if they left us... Dizzy Darwinistic ramblings at dusk.. Eventually, our guide and the others returned and we walked through the rainforest with heaving rain to our camp, slept in hammocks (not recommended for longer than cat naps) and got up the next morning to deep fried arepas and perico.. Mmmm, culinary delights...

Yesterday, was one of the longest travel days I have ever had, a 3 hour boat ride, 1 hour trek, bus, 6-seater plane, pinto, corolla, and finally, a DC-9...

But now, I am home... If you can call where I live home, but I am going to leave that drama for another entry cause this is getting pretty lengthy.

Ciao!

Heather

Over the top October

I hate the cliche phrase when it rains it pours but I think that it might be an appropriate term for life pounding down on me like when it rains cats and dogs during monsoon season. The $400 gone, the shippers, the Angel Falls trip to happen or not, Amputee pool sharks, Surprises you never saw coming from left field, emergency ascensions in MD-80s (Ugh oh!) and we're halfway there... God help me I hope I am living on more than 1 prayer.

Nonetheless, I am still trying to wear a smile on my face and believe I'm possible, not impossible...

If Karma is real, then, I must have not been a nice person to Venezuelans in a past life, as a few things have happened recently that make me wonder who or what naturistic thing I upset in the cosmic scheme of things back once upon a time... Then again, a friend said last night, the best way to explain this is chaos, but I love my chaos... I think the sooner I take that mentality, the better off I am going to be.

Still or Todavia (great Spanish word), I just read an article that working when we are stressed (provided it's not related to work) which it really isn't can make our work more productive and inventive and ideas might volcano out in huge spontaneous spurts of wisdom, chaos and energy.

Soul searching for what's next but I think once everything calms down, I am just going to want and see those Sri Lankan paintings and Korean lamps in one place for 2-3 years and so Venezuela, watch out, I think I am here to stay. Still, if any higher being was to drop a sign down temporarily that had neon arrows guiding me towards one of the thought bubbles coming out of my head, I would be pretty stoked. That would be pretty magical.

So firey October leading into Neurotic November (sun in Scorpio), I have no idea what you have in store for me, but I'll continue to laugh, talk shit, dive in, embrace and let go and find wonderful stories to tell as long as you let me live...

Second guessing

I'm really not sure that being here, dating younger guys, missing Asia, missing good friends is a good lead into my 30th birthday. I thought I was doing well, I am running a lot, I am enjoying the lush green environment around me, I like walking etc. , I am working on my project, I was being a slave to the vibe at work (unacceptable);

But, in less than a month, my life seems to have turned like a pineapple upside down cake.. I feel like it was in pretty good layers, all of them different but pretty solid and now, it's like I don't know black from white.

My intuition has always been good. That, and I consistently have deja vu. From the dream about the Russian orphanage to conversations.. And then, there's karma and maybe, I need to let the Asian in me go and let go of all this stuff, because as I try to apply all these strategies that have become imbedded in me after living in the Eastern Hemisphere the last 8 years, I am getting deeper and deeper in holes that I haven't felt or seen for awhile.

Work seems incidental right now, because we are holding on together by a thread and delivering the most we can for the wild cards we are given.

Perhaps, it was the 1.5 pseudo relationship with someone who challenged me physically more than ever and came a close runner up on mentally and yet, I always knew something was not right. It was never natural, it was in so many ways and others as far as setting things up. And, then, when a year later, reality in the form of a wife, child and history in general came to reveal itself, I wasn't overly surprised..Then again, I am not sure anything is natural? Can all realms; physical, mental, emotional, organizational, etc. Can they really all be in alignment with your perfect partner? Aren't our oddities and differences what make us interesting to each other? If it was that easy, then why would we do it? I have to believe that's the case because I don't think I'll ever find someone that's as normal and crazy at the same time as I am...

Looking to my intelligences to help survive it all, release physically (kinisthetic); artistic; throw some pots or paint my walls? interpersonal; beforeidieiwantto.org....

So, Buddha, Allah, Mohammad, God, Jehovah, Virgin Mary, whoever is listening with elephant ears, I beg that you give me a good end to this year, with smiles, strong passion and above all belief in myself. I need to feel alive again and confident with my decisions and being.. No more second guessing..

xoxo

Election day

I have never woke up and been scared and I don't know if it was the effects of too much Polar beer (gotta stop drinking that stuff) or just feeling that I do actually live in one of the world's most dangerous cities, because when I woke up this morning at 4, to fireworks or some other kind of bomb like sounds continuously going off for an hour and I could see nothing in the dark except the glow off the buildings around me, I was nervous.

It's now 10:00 am and aside from the constant string of cars and more horns beeping then usual, it is an absolutely stunning day in Caracas. The sky is looking a bit like the Simpsons, fluffy clouds and periwinkle blue.. Let's hope it maintains a calm and the storm doesn't come when the voting booths close.

Elections, to me, are a fascinating discussion particularly in other countries because in my country, for as political and academic and focussed on creating change as it likes to promote itself to be, only about 40% of the population who can vote turns out to vote. Whereas, in Australia people are fined for not voting. In Venezuela, I was told 99% of eligible people vote by one taxi driver. Furthermore, to make sure people are making better decisions, the weekend before the elections is dry (without alcohol) like Thailand and some other Asian countries. And to think, in the US, I feel like a lot of people go out and get drunk before elections because sometimes it is an unusual day off in the middle of the week for people.

I guess my main point here is that people seem to care and while elections maybe potentially corrupt or bias, the fact that people actually take the time to line up for 1-3 hours to get into a booth shows dedicated effort to initiating change in a country that often has a reputation for being behind and lost led by the eyes of its bipolar president.

On another note, I had a moment last night, where I woke up and made a decision, one that will eternally improve my health and I am happy that I now want this change, truly, madly, deeply.

And, I will start training for a full marathon because of this decision, whether or not the race happens or not is to be seen.

Other than that, feeling a bit better about some things, not about others, it's good to talk things out. I think that is essentially the most important aspect of life, try to make sense of things by talking them out as much as humanly possible until you come up with a theory or way to make yourself feel better and relieved about it all.

Adios amigos..

A Place Where Things Come Alive

I woke up early on Saturday morning, after ordering pizza in Spanish and going into a carb coma from consuming too much of it, I slept a good 10 hours and my body thanked me kindly.
The beach was fun, calming, good to be in the water, how it calms my scorpio skin and I picked up a slight shade of gold after getting comments from some of my pastier colleagues on how I need to get some sun... I also received one of the nicest comments of my life from a random parking attendant at the beach, Christopher, as the boys called him. He said "Tu es claridad" which when I looked up meant brightness and glowing. How lovely of someone to pick up on that and to once and awhile eminate it to random strangers.

Saturday evening was a wild night, I drank too much wine, received 13 phone calls from a local number, tainted my lungs more than I have since I have been here, had crazy political talks with Chris and Guido about socialism in Venezuela, finished it off with chats about boys with Michael. Thank goodness for friends putting up with randomness. I think being new somehow makes you being a bit flaky and all over the place much more acceptable, but personally, it's somewhat unacceptable and I feel, as much as it's difficult to say to myself, I need to focus.

On a good note, I cranked out some emails to Columbia and University of Wisconsin Madison doctoral program leaders and created a somewhat feasible timeline for the beforeidieiwantto project.

I went to an incredible dance performance last night and although it took Linn and I a bit longer than we anticipated to get there, it was quite magical. The music was progressive and uplifting, the space was incredible, open air with water in the background, a amphitheatre sitting area and being able to sit outside under the stars, with kids playing and laughing happily in the background, surrounded by diverse people into art made it easier to breath. It made me love this city and the walk back to Altamira past Park Del Este where I'd ran earlier on in the day and the perfect 70 degree weather evening after the afternoon rain.. It's a place where even though the government sometimes makes things more difficult it also helps things come alive particularly with art and culture and health. And, coming from Dubai, where there weren't spaces to organize publicly, it's so great

I just keep thinking about the segments from the story that I read to my kids at the beginning of the year "On Beyond Zebra" by Dr. Seuss, how simple stories parallel our lives and should give us the patience to continue particularly when we read them again to laugh.

There's only now, there's only this, forget, regret or life is yours to miss.

Another gorgeous weekend: yoga in La Estancia, followed by a 35 B 3-course meal at the local version of an Asian open air market, with some reggaeton blasting while we eat bland seafood soup. A night full of laughter and golf swings, roast chicken, guasacaca, sharing music, movies and ideas. A morning running 6 km and an afternoon haring a 5km hash run with Eileen (Yay, amiga!) that ended up with folks old and new coming to be a part of something.

And then, a return to work, which continues to baffle me and make me wonder how and wonder why? The kids continue to challenge and inspire me particularly when I teach reading and writing, I thrive on helping them understand, watching them make inspiring connections and seeing them dive into their reading as much as I do. (Says the girl who is reading 4 books at once). However, after 30 years, and 1/3 of them working in the professional world, you think I might have been able to sort out finding a job that challenges me. And while a friend says focus, I have been more focussed in the last 2 years then ever when it comes to work and somehow, it seems to be using my face as a punching bag right now. My team is being good, working as hard as possible to keep things easy for me while trying to manage the 800 other things that get thrown at them. I am just trying to stay afloat in a few areas and my teaching is suffering a bit for it. In Math and Language, the kids get 150%, I love it, I know what I am doing. Quite frankly, I have never had difficulty ever adjusting a language arts program to meet my needs and the needs of my students. Nonetheless, when it comes to Science and Social Studies, I am finding it difficult to understand that collaborating between 4-5 people is impossible because we did it last year with 7 and yet, involving specialists is doing my head in and it makes me tempted to say "Just give it to me, all of it." But if I took that road, then my true passions such as L. Arts would suffer and I would shrivel up into a raisin...

So, I have started an application for the foreign service. With my luck, they'll say "red card" flaky peace corp applicant. Or, I'll have a really tough time passing the standardized test, yet, nonetheless, I am thinking that it might be time to take my people skills in a different direction when more frustration than satisfaction is beginning to arise in my current existence.

Bummer. We'll see, might as well get on the passive-aggressive new career track. I love teaching and will always give it my best go, I just feel I am swimming upstream right now...

Missing little pichaels with nicotine and vino issues, tall bald men with the pieces that fit the puzzle, music exchange with over-energetic Kiwis, runs and meals and inspiring life chats with a certain lady who hasn't recognized her addiction to diet coke and smoking.... To my gorgeous people, let us meet somewhere spectacular soon. :)

To teach or not to teach, that is the question?

Obviously, I am teaching. I already am not sure I like the sound of that; however, the last few weeks and number of punches in the stomach I have received has made me wonder, do I stay with this or talk about another passion and run with it...

On one level, when I am challenged and actively learning like students by absorbing myself in writing curriculum or reinventing the wheel on technology in my classroom, I am excited, overstimulated and nerdily engaged in my work. On the other hand, when I go to professional development meetings that are supposed to "develop" me and come out feeling like I need to enroll in taekwondo class again to rid myself of some of the anger, I am not sure I am exactly where I am supposed to be right now and that I am doing what I am supposed to.. I think the field and surrounding myself with people, actively visualizing and thinking about how to engage and combine strategies to make these kids love something is a great thing and I do that as much as I can with what I like working on, but how much is enough?

A colleague of mine posted a link to a cool website yesterday and the ted-talk that the Indian man did, http://www.ted.com/talks/sugata_mitra_the_child_driven_education.html made me think that I just want kids to want to learn, is that such a difficult task? Some kids want to learn but is it because of competition? Social constructions? the structure of school? Do the kids I teach have the same stamina as these kids who haven't been given anything? Sometimes, when they are in a moment and we exchange moments, I see it and it's gorgeous, there is nothing as wonderful as those kids connecting with the one time when your tooth fell out from a piece of halloween candy or you got nervous because your friend quit on you in a talent show. And the magic that comes from energizers when you are bouncing and the kids explode, their hands up aching to be called on to tell their stories and moments. These are what keep me sane as a teacher but the in between stuff is frustrating.

I guess I should be happy I mean, not a lot of people have so much satisfaction from their jobs. So, I should be satisfied with what I get, but this is my life and although I believe in reincarnation, I am not sure there will be more with these strengths, which leaves me back where I started.

I guess a bigger question is what on earth else would you do?

Cheese farm, I love cheese and the idea of being on a farm etc, but I am not sure I am romanticizing the reality on this one.

Grow grapes, more realistic but requires some schooling and a plot of land... Who do I get the earth from?

Open a bed and breakfast with Lisa in ???? Who's my sugar daddy?

Go back to Asia and get involved in the movement to help technology help kids learn in a way that they never imagined possible? Will I ever find love though?

So many options and yet, I like running, travelling, schedules and food and wine...

I think this will have to be reviewed shortly in the future because after the day I had involving my inspiration at the school resigning literally a month after school began, I am a bit biust and overwhelmed at the moment...

Revisit, rethink, reinvent...

Por L'ahorra

The name of this blog is based off a popular Reggaetone song here called "Por l'ahorra" which can be translated into "for now," which is pretty much what my life is.

A week full of ups and downs including a rollercoaster ride along the Venezuelan coast listening to Italian reggae music with a Norwegian friend followed by night swimming... Some hate mail from the Australian in Mykonos, ouch that tone can be heard so loudly through words on a screen. A marine house party and feeling like the last green giant on the planet, being the third tallest but by far most interesting at the party. And finally, some cool caipirinhas, filling fish meals and wacky waves at Tortuga.

It hardly ever slows down here in Caracas. Culture shock just hit me like a bus yesterday afternoon. I missed my friends and long soul-searching wine sessions and enjoying hedonistic affairs that have been a part of my life for the last two years. I am still convinced that the only super power that really needs to come into my life to make me live longer involves teleporting because then I could pop over somewhere for a glass of wine or some som tum. Before I die, I want to see fantasy become reality at least once a year... I think, that maybe that has happened more than a few times this year, so embrace, remember and hope or life is yours to miss.

My current personal goal beyond mastering el futuro en espanol cual es muy facile, and learning a little bit more about the socialist revolution. I need to work on speeding through the novel I have been reading since this summer and get into some Chavez. I want to figure out the love/ hate relationship people have with him and Socialism. And, as an educator I want to understand how it works and pleases most Scandos with Socialized governments and high education levels, most are happy or generally so. On the contrary, here educated people seem to leave Venezuela or are hugely opposed to the man himself, so what is really going on that is antagonizing people so? It still seems like there is potentially some access to pursuing a dream here... We'll see.

More soon.. Ciao

Crazy in Caracas

Wow, so it's been such a long time and I have now been in Caracas for 3 weeks.

Caracas is a wonderful city. A mix of old and new and somehow, there seems to be a lingering of the 80s prominent in everything from exercise equipment to old chevys. The subway looks like old commuter NY trains. Dress is more circa de 70s with tight bootilicious jeans and colorful bubilicious tops.

And yet, green, lush and with the buildings built into the hillside instead of the land being demolished to build other buildings, the city is stunning. Crime aside, there is another side of this town with the friendly folks, wide variety of cuisine, cheap medicine and involved sporting culture that makes it a desirable place to live.

In my last 3 weeks here, I have gotten to run, swim and hike more then I have in the last 6 months without coughing up a lung of sand, feeling dehydrated after drinking 5 L of water and getting fungi balls in my ears from whatever potent potions were chlorinating DAA's pool. Hiking was possible in Oman and the UAE but after being spoiled by Colorado, upstate New York and Vermont and Seoul; hiking just doesn't seem like hiking without green.

Nonetheless, I have seen darker sides of Caracas as well. Last weekend, I met up with some friends, Caraquenos, who took me to a neighborhood that I am not sure I would have gone to had it been in the safest city in the world. People drinking beers on the tops of their old cars, wooden porch bars with neon lamps and brick paneling, heavy rock pumping out of the sides of these places, we parked ourselves at a tasca (little Spanish diner/ bar). I might as well should have been a shark in a Kansas farm, as I was blonde and Czech white standing out, but my willingness to both speak and listen in Spanish kept us from drawing insane amounts of attention. Nevertheless, after I calmed down about the entire situation, so did the crowd in the restaurant. Milagros, Jesus, David and Alejandro and I sat and drink Polar beers and discussed the beforeidieiwantto project. Good stuff! We headed back to Las Mercedes at 2:30 and unfortunately but luckily at the same time had the unfortunate chance of running into a scene (of which we were not involved) that involved cops pulling their guns out on folks on motorcycles. Clearly, we swiftly moved away.

The next day, I explored Altamira, areperias and then, went to the hash house harriers where I met a wacky but lovely Canadian women and her half Peruvian daughter; about 2/3 of the Norwegian embassy and some funny Venezuelans who had hearts of gold and loved to play childish clapping games.

Overall, good times and looking forward to more fun and more posts.

Rain has been incredible here, I actually love rain when it's warm. We nearly got swept away after a day of shopping, while unloading a school bus. The street morphed into a fast moving stream and it was necessary to hold on to something in order to not get swept away in the mid-calf high water.

Today while on a 4.5 hour hike, we bushwacked through the side of Avila, while stomping through a muddy small steady stream forming down the mountainside.

Can't wait to write more. It feels like I am actually living abroad for the first time in years.

Bezos y abrazos.

The Great American Stay-cation 2010- Portland

Swirls of coffee seeped into the tunnel of light in Portland airport as I navigated through the multicultural crowds trying to find a way out and into the breezy Oregonian weather.

Lisa and Anika pulled up in a grey sedan and away we went for a slow food Portland lunch. Lisa had tuna melt with bacon. I had a pulled pork sandwich with applewood cheddar and jicama fennel coleslaw... Mmmm-ey.

After lunch, we rocked out to Seattle, which had amazing weather, winds were dancing around us, lifting up our wispy hair and doing dips with it, sun was pouring into give our faces this radiant glow you get after facials or good sex. We sat out on a balcony overlooking the Pacific, a cozier cuter less crowded version of Cape Cod and sat with old friends and new enjoying bloody marys and cold beers.

After a lengthy porch session, we piled back into the sedan and headed for Lisa's sister's house in Tacoma, which overlooks a beautiful inlet where you can often see Orca whales wandering in and out of the bay.

Sat out on the porch, drank some wine and fell asleep to the whispers of pines tickling each other. The next day, hugely involved family, perpetuating the American staycation vibe, we went to a all-state summer track and field meet for family members of all ages followed by an upscale version of Pizza Hut and then, a sleepy eve.

On day 3, we rushed back to Portland for some shopping and bbq comfort. It's always great to meet your friend's good friends. It makes you understand your relationship with that person better and also, makes you see the growth that they've done without even knowing the half of things.

Portland is a beautiful city. however, I feel I might have gotten a somewhat bias opinion being there in the 3rd week of July, probably infamous for being the best week of weather all year long. Nonetheless, I loved the fact that most of the people there were my age and I didn't feel old or like a huge chunk of my generation had moved out of the sticks desperately seeking culture... The food and wine scene is probably what would suck me in. On the contrary, the necessity of a car and mediocre weather, even though the city is stonewashed in greens, would make me doubt putting it in the top 5 places to live if I ever moved back to the good ol US of A...

Summer swept away: part 1: Return to Kimchi-land

I think it's been about 6 weeks since I got on that plane to leave Dubai, tears overflowing on my warm face, confusion dancing in circles around my head and my body saying "Please, go easy on me this summer."
Seeing good friends often means great catch-up chats, some good runs, a pile of helpful advice and humongous hugs, healthy right??
It also means good food, copious amounts of wine, bad food and all in that fantastic decision making order...
I started in Seoul, arrived on my friend Peter's doorstep around 7:00 pm and was promptly poured a glass of Chilean red (ugh) and pulled upstairs to the sea of green that surrounded his lofty apartment atop Namsan hill. Because it was summer, you could smell the pork and beef galbi in the air, the garlic hanging off people's balconies to keep the mosquitoes away and the green, moist dewish smell that summertime often produces from a combination of deciduous and coniferous forests intermingling.
My nose and stomach were both highly influenced by these smells and we decided promptly on galbi dinner. We pulled up to the local family mart ( a Korean version of 7-11) and came across 4 more friends, Mirrell, Jerry, Charles and Jackie. We drank beer on the porch and watched the world cup game. Only at convenient stores in Korea do they cater to the local communities urges to sit and drink beer on the stoop. In fact, they built a sheeshy oak porch to provide a place to chillax... We headed down to the galbi lady and I was equally impressed by the Koreans' kindness when the restaurants literally fought over who would host us for dinner. This is particularly funny considering we had two dogs joining us. It was nice to be in a place that was done. A city where people want your business and your company and realize that people live their lives with their dogs and their alcohol... A city where the main physical construction taking place was on the outskirts of town in slight expansionist movements. And where the construction in town was both artistic and social, with young Korean artists opening up bars sporting drinks in plastic bags and eclectic electro French music.. A place where you could see all those foreigners that they'd brought in the last 20 years were beginning to influence Koreans in their internationalism and yet, the Koreans were rubbing off on the foreigners too in the sense their patience was growing bigger and their eagerness to communicate and develop their cross cultural understanding more.

Interesting moments from the trip include:
a) the 15 minute cappucino experience, brewed by candle light and frothed milk made by banging the metal milk kettle against a wooden block in a sort of modern hand dance show...
b) watching the US get into the final 16 in the world cup at 1:00 in the morning and feeling that national American energy (I don't usually embrace it, but this was a magical moment)
c) fighting with pajon lady about there not being enough seafood in her pancakes.. Nothing good comes out of being out at 5 am on a Thursday morning
d) catching up with old friends and new, seeing how lives can remain the same in some ways and dramatically change in others, with categories such as work, love, money, dreams, etc
e) eating probably the best sushi I have had since leaving Korea, gotta love chumchi wae... thanks Charles.

Overall, it was wonderful to be back in Korea, to see friends that I haven't caught up with for 4 years, to be surrounded by people who love and know you inside and out especially when I was coming down from the high of leaving Dubai and to be in a place that celebrates the world cup as if God had come down and thrown a crazy and miraculous party...

I am not sure I will ever return but I am happy to say that it was a part of my life and I highly recommend anyone going to visit or live because the people are raw and rude and feisty and ferocious.

Annyeounghi- gyeseyo for now Korea!

The 50 things I will and won't miss from Dubai (in no particular order)

1. the people that I have met from around the world that have helped me grow, challenge me daily and represent a broader spectrum of careers and countries than any other place I have lived.

2. the February-April sunsets on the beach, reddish-orange skies every night.

3. Lamb chops, tabbouleh and baba ghanoush

4. My students and their dramatic interpretation and dances to the "tabbouleh song."

5. Karama curries

6. Drives to Barracuda, Ras Al Khaimah, Fujeirah-- Camel crossings and dust storms...

7. Rock Bottom, Rattlesnake and Jebel Ali club, trashy bars being a commodity instead of high end ones like in Tulsa.

8. Ladies Nights at Nelsons..

9. Lulu Hypermarket, the world's greatest grocery store, laser light show and you can pretty much find everything in the world you need there..

10. No left turns????

11. Safety, being able to walk down the beach and leave your bag.

12. the sandstorms where you cannot even walk outside without sunglasses.

13. the tall, attractive array of men from around the world.

14. Being surrounded by some of the world's most beautiful people (motivation to stay fit)

15. the warm water beaches

16. Being a 5 minute drive from the beach

17. January-February race months in the UAE

18. Creek Strider mornings- justification of my binge drinking later in the day

19. Interesting taxi cab conversations

20. zen yoga classes

21. Sumo Sushi delivery

22. Random home delivery services: pharmacy, soda water, etc.

23. Living down the road from some of the world's most interesting architectural projects: Burj Al Arab, Burj Khalifa, the World project, Palm Jumeirah

24. the spices

25. Bur Dubai

26. Cheap flights to almost any country in the world and decent travel times.

27. summer shopping sales

28. Runs around Safa park

29. Opportunity knocks- being able to dream up and do anything if you wanted to stay here.

30. Dinner club

31. Irish village beers before flying out at the DXB airport

32. the Coldplay concert in Abu Dhabi, rain; giant yellow bouncy balls, multi colored paper butterflies: MAGIC

33. late night calls from boys only rivaling university days

34. Fun and frequent stories like McArabia (oh, Kristen)

35. bottles of vino with the girls: Kristen, Tara, Carrie, Kate M, Kate D, Becky and more..

36. Some good gigs: 2 Many DJs, Basement Jaxx, Plump Djs, etc.

37. Lime-tree cafe; yummy goodies.

38. Mall after mall after mall after mall

39. dodgy hospital experiences :(

40. random parking tickets with absolutely no proof

41. runs in Media City

42. Satwa area, a little bit of culture in plastic heaven

43. My neighbors who return baking/ cooking favors equally

44. the lack of local produce

45. A spectacular group of colleagues I have learned from enormously

46. Drinking cocktails on my lil' balcony

47. The views from the freakishly high buildings.

48. Sajid's cooking

49. long drives on the highway in the ford focus

50. not knowing whether the city will be here in the next 50 years but at least having been a part of its craze now..

Thoughts on Raw food, Thai food and on what's good for the soul....

My friend Carol, spent a lot of time in India and Thailand over the last few years and is now a raw food cook. The food she creates is beautiful to look at; healthy and has successfully nurtured a number of people who have dietary and energy issues from their eating habits either in the past or present. I think this is a wonderful thing, particularly for those who have terrible lifelong diseases such as diabetes and are able to live more satisfying lives. Do I think it would ever work for me?

The truth is, over the last 30 years, my dietary needs were most met when I lived in Thailand. Nearly, all the produce was grown within 200 km of where I was living, fish were caught daily from the Gulf of Thailand and variety was assorted. Even with the sesame oil, fish paste, lime juice, chilies and other strong flavoring agents of Thai food, I found it to be healthy, clean and delicious. It is the only place I have lived where I could eat the food all the time, crave the food all the time, and not need variety because my body was missing something.

Thai salads are often raw, mangoes, papayas, chilies, etc. Soups are made with coconut milk, chicken broth or lime juice. Noodles are often made traditionally with bones of the animals in the broth used. Rice is sticky or jasmine steamed and is usually eaten once a day but not with each meal. There are not a lot of sweets and nearly all of them involve fresh fruit. Dairy is rarely used.

Given my theories on my potential mild intolerance for gluten and a definite case of lactose intolerance, one can easily see why this is a positive diet for me. Though as I read the book, Animal, Vegetable, Mineral, I also think that it has largely to do with the fact that the food was from where I lived that I felt healthy.

Living abroad and returning to the freezer stocked with frozen fruits and vegetables, jarred lemongrass and the industrial sized tub of garlic my Mother bought, hardly enchants me. While summer produce will be in full bloom and farmers' markets bustling, the United States and its constant desire for convenience, still requires a push towards making these steps towards supporting local markets and an even bigger bonus, towards improving one's health by eating local, organic, naturally enriched with vitamins of the earth food. Nonetheless, it is time for people with money to get out of a mentality of convenience and get into a mentality of healthy living. With the increase of technology and more reliance upon machines, a return to organic farming in the agricultural world, could be just what the doctor ordered in terms of raising rates of unemployment and combatting obesity in schools.

After all is said in done, I think my basis for discussion here returns to the discussion of everything in moderation. Today, I ate raw nearly the entire day; banana, apple, granola, almonds and vegan gazpacho. However, when I returned home, out of no hormonal or sad feeling or lack of hunger, I gravitated towards the chocolate cake I had made last night, took 5 bites of it and was then satisfied. Clearly, my body knew what it wanted but my mind would have fought that sensation if I thought properly about it.

Keep listening to your cravings. If we lead somewhat balanced lives inclusive of exercise, fun and generally healthy eating, those cravings will result in desire to have all three of those things in our lives regularly creating a cycle of health. Hopefully....

Blueberries and Old Sweaters

Blueberries are one of those fruits that can be so right and wrong all at once. The health benefits are outstanding. One website called them "an antioxidant powerhouse." Another vows that 1/2 cup of blueberries will provide the 3-servings of fruit you need daily. Undeniably, these little blue fruits with a unique consistency have their benefits. Nonetheless, I find that if the least bit off or in any other state then fresh or in blueberry muffins, they lose their tart and become a pure jammy sugar fruit... Blackberries have the same problem, but strawberries and raspberries hold their flavor over pastries, sorbet and jams without being too sweet, but blueberries metamorph into something completely else when they are baked, jammed and essentially bastardized.

Anywise, so I am gearing up for another move and I came across an old sweater. The first time I saw this sweater was on my Dad growing up. I remember cold Christmases, ski holidays and amber moments by fireplaces with family friends and steaming cups of hot chocolate. This old sweater has a history though. Where it started is still unknown. It has held a smell, that fluctuates between a cedar closet and winter foods (hot chocolates, roasts, popcorn and things yummy and comforting). Last time, I was at my parents' house, I ran into the picture of my Dad and my Mom, blown up nearly poster size, black and white from Vail, Colorado. It doesn't say when it is but they look young and particularly happy; maybe, it's just worry-less. There are few lines in their faces and though the photo is black and white, the contrast of their pale but smiling faces against the snow gives them a natural hopeful glow. In this particular photo, Mom is wearing a sweater that I wore out as well. Both sweaters fit them well, exhibiting that circular cycle of fashion. Nonetheless, they have changed and nothing they wear today would fit them or their slightly more loved bodies in that way..

The sweater was around throughout my childhood. It's nordic looking with American colors red, white and blue. Somewhere in high school, when I made one of my yearly trips to the attic to remind me of my past and my parents past, I came across it again and decided to make it my own, along with my Dad's old rugby shirts and my Mom's sweater from that photo. Dad's sweater was way too big, but for a 15 year old girl with unnecessary body issues, it was one of my favorite possessions. And at a time, when Abercrombie and Fitch was big amongst high school students, it paid in coolness to have something retroactive in fashion that was real. It travelled to Russia for a cultural exchange and back. It made it all through long, frost-bitten winters filled with cross-country skiing, too many cups of spilled tea in Upstate New York. It is a sweater that represents love and experience and the passing on of different lifestyles from one generation to the next.

So, today, when I was packing and eating blueberries (hence, the random introduction), I came across this sweater. Next destination is Venezuela and this sweater, might not come in handy there. I have not outgrown it, it gives me warm fuzzies when I see it. Furthermore, it radiates love. Nonetheless, I decided it was time to pass it on, to give it a new life, to make somebody else's family warm or a different kind of family. Who knows it could be a blanket for an Indian construction worker here and eventually be taken back to his own country for warmth for another person. It is still in good shape, nearly 4o years later. So, farewell to my oversized red, white, and blue but overly Nordic looking sweater.

May you continue to make happy, spread love and keep warm.

Brunch at the Burj Al Arab

It is now 7:33 p.m.. I finished my brunch at 2:45, it was not one overflowing with copious amounts of alcohol, nor was it themed Asiatic or "all you can eat hoorah." I am still pleasantly full. I'm pretty sure I will not have to eat until tomorrow and that is in a nice way. I haven't felt stuffed at all today but no hunger since.

It was a civilized morning with friends, and a cute girl with a pixie hair cut in a black dress singing covers of Julie London and Frank Sinatra. A roller rink green and blue scheme meets r2-d2 and hideously printed carpet on the decor, but really on the 27th floor overlooking the water, it was easy to overlook such details.

In this case, persistance and positive emailing landed me with one of the best tables in the restaurant, in the corner overlooking the Palm islands and World, round, so we could all see each other's smiling faces and bellies.

We got in around 10:30 and after looking at the Russian tacky, meets "symmetrical overstimulation fit for a math book cover," we took the lift up overlooking the ocean behind the infamous sacreligious cross to the Al Muntaha restaurant.

When we walked through the small entrance which looked like computer panels from the early 1980s, I had my doubts that it was nothing but a tourist trap and became slightly nervous about the food.

Nonetheless, shortly after arrival and an ooh and aw over our corner table, some photos and ordering some $15 a bottle mineral water, we approached the buffet, which twisted and turned around the restaurant.

Of course, there were the normal stations of any high end buffet, seafood; complete with a sushi station, gawdy ice sculptures of koi fish, oysters, lobster, mussels, etc. but at the end, laid a little booth on the end where the chef would prepare a platter with 8 different types of fancy caviar around the edges and small blini waffle pancakes alongside creme fraiche made the whole thing extra better.

Next, there was an area of Indian food, which was pleasant, but not what I personally come to buffets to eat. It often makes me too full, so I usually leave this out of my buffet routine. Nonetheless, I tried some aloo mutter (potatoes and peas) to keep with my analysis of the entire dining experience. It was pleasantly light and more yogurt based then weighed down by the heaviness of ghee.

There was a continental section with some delights such as sun-dried tomato gnocchi bowls, soy-saffron salmon and a number of other combinations. Again, if I am at a buffet, I prefer to eat the more fresh options or the ones that are prepared at stations for you. Hone in on the pan-seared foie gras station. Sadly, this was my very first stop, toasted brioche, pan-seared foie gras, cinnamon-apple compote and parsnip paste. Yum!

The cheese spread looked like something out of a trendy cheese store in New York city. Nothing too risky or outrageously stinky but presentation sweet on the eyes.

Finally, the most impressive spread of all, were some of the beautifully created desserts. Kiwi-apple mouse balls covered in green chocolate, the cliche but crowd pleasing chocolate fountain, strawberries and cream, wrapped mango creamed chocolate cakes, Sicilian lemon goodness (that reminded me of Amalfi).

All in all, definitely worth the 395 aed to spend a morning with good food, good friends and a great view. A recommended must-do upon an adventure to Dubai.

Hospital mishaps

Another Saturday afternoon and I ain't got nobody, more like and "I am quarantined in my apartment..." Annoying is an understatement. Well, since I have arrived back from Italy, life with love, finance and work has been going fairly well but health wise, I have taken a bit of a nosedive.

It started after Italy and me being a slight hypochondriac, I got quite paranoid about the chest pains and numbness I was experiencing. Because I am a little bit of a spaz, I thought that excessive consumption of red wine, taking birth control the last 3 months and history of stroke in the family was a justified reason to go to the Cardiologist, and he didn't completely rule me out either. He suggested we do an EEG, EKG, stress test and some cholesterol blood work to see what was going on. Today, I learned that my heart is in good shape for the moment (knock on wood) but I was the first person in 27 years to pass my cardio medical imaging test with an A++, staying on the treadmill, a whopping 21 minutes and my heart rate was still not 80%. Now, when I am training properly, I can run 12 km in an hour, so this was not that hard for me, but by the end of it, I was nearly walking at a 90 degree angle with incline which made it a little challenging... Nonetheless, this little heart of mine did shine for today which brought a smile.

The other medical mishap was a viral eye infection that I have had the last 5 days. I went to one doctor first and unfortunately, it did not redeem my lack of faith in Indian doctors, because the first day she misdiagnosed me, the second day she misdiagnosed me and the third day, she called me and wasn't listening to what I was saying but was reading the results of some test that was completely irrelevant. Now, my eye issues were not easily identifiable, it took two other doctors a detailed debate over what it could be, potential treatments, etc. and luckily there first guess was right.

Nonetheless, the whole thing got me thinking when the original Indian doctor called me and didn't even apologize for the mistake. I was quite rude and felt bad about it at first, but I thought about the time someone called me out for not doing my job correctly and it was annoying at first, but I needed to hear it. Last year, I wrote "this is unacceptable" early in the year on one of my student's workbooks because his handwriting was a disaster. Little did I know that he had some occupational problems with writing and had an ongoing struggle and was oversensitive to the issue because he did genuinely try. I apologized to my student directly and realized that a big part of my job is seeing the smaller details before you apply the bigger picture rule.. Funny, how that analogy totally parallels what this Indian doctor should have done with my eye. She was generalizing and if I would have continued to go to her, god knows how long it would have taken her to figure it out. But mostly, I wanted her to say I am sorry for not being right and I apologize for the amount of pain I caused you.

Good healthcare is a right, not a privilege but lately it seems like you can only have this right if you are privileged. The world needs to make life accessible so that we can live, eat, drink, play, learn and work peacefully and without danger or potential harm.

Something that we all need to start working towards*

Esta vendando el coche

Selling the car, at a bargain of 2500 usd, and a 1000 dollar loss, I am over it. You wouldn't think this is an adventure, but I feel like it has been already

First, the actual sale. I have not one mean bone in my body. This Iranian guy was going to buy it at value for 13,000 aed before the whole air con escapade happened. He was on the fence. Over the last 72 hours, I have reposted it, dealt with 10 other interested buyers and then, he phones. Christ, and although, I could have potentially gotten an extra $300, I folded and said, let's do it because the whole thing is giving me a giant headache; walking from one end of the other of a 2 km mall to find a working fax machine, so Merhzad can get insurance by tomorrow afternoon when the handover happens.

And then, as you do, I had to figure out if I had any fines to pay off when I go switch over the car. I checked at the beginning of April, shortly after returning from Italy, when I was contemplating posting the thing on and was home free. Low and behold, I checked today, just as I am about to turn the thing over. Well, o'er the last few weeks, I have been cruising around the city and spending more time on highways. I am not in the need for speed at any point, more the need for my bed and the pillow for my sleepy head; but I wouldn't have been surprised to see a ticket from speeding 10 km over or something ridiculous, because it's like they know that you are going to sell your car or something. However, no, it wasn't a ticket for speeding, which they actually can prove with cameras. It was a ticket for obstructing traffic. One which I never received in paper form; one which can not be proven. One which I am pretty sure I wasn't even at the location where I was apparently obstructing traffic one weekend evening. In other words, the government can just screw you here because they want to and because they know that we all believe we are walking on glass with them anywise..

So, selling the car, has lead me to realize that even places like the UAE, which has the reputation as being the most laid back of the Arab gulf states and having a higher tolerance for western behavior, are not what they seem. And while I would recommend people to continue to explore and investigate this country, I would say beware because you never know what bullshit they are going to get you for and where it's coming from. I mean is this the way to solve monetary issues; how is it fair that a person can receive a ticket for something that they aren't aware of and there is no proof. Innocent until proven ?

I realize that Venezuela is corrupt and it's potentially going to be a hundred times worse but no one denies it there. In fact, blogs, guide books, locals, expats will tell you that corruption swims all around you, which for me is most important. If a country has issues, own up to them, it's about time some place did.

Cooking disaster numero uno

After an unbelievably good month, it's begun to pour down shit.. Actually that's a bit of an exaggeration.

Nonetheless, my car which I am trying to sell seems to be a bit sicker than I imagined. I just need to move to the taiga. I wouldn't have a problem if I lived in a cooler biome... Right..

Anywho, I have been really frustrated mainly with the quality of the produce here over the last few months. You see, everything is imported to Dubai. The closest local produce one can obtain is from Oman and even then, you might get carrots, peppers and a few other products from there that are of mediocre quality. The next closest exporter for produce is India and let's just say, somehow, even though India has the geographical topography of the United States, 4 seasons in some parts of the country or at least all seasons at some point in one area or another; it still was difficult to find quality fruits and vegetables that stayed longer then 1-2 days.

3 weeks ago in Italy, I tried to eat salad everyday. I do love my greens but I also was basking in the fact that there was quality leaves of lettuce available. Salad in Dubai? Quite often, I will pick up something that declares itself Spinach and is some kind of hybrid or another leaf entirely. Other times, I pick up a head of romaine lettuce and literally take it out of the package and it turns brown like one of those technicolor shirts from the early 90s that changed color when heat hit it.

So, last night when I had this beautiful idea for butternut squash soup, I cooked it and was a little worried about the cantaloupe color of the vegetable before it was cooked. Yet, I have come to accept that things are not always what they seem in Dubai and that just might be part of the importation process/ change/ transformation that occurs. It didn't smell funky, there was no apparent mold. On top of that, the thing was ridiculously expensive about 8 dollars for a squash that was about 2 kgs...Say what? So, I prepared the soup, added a garlic/ herb stockcube and some cinnamon and it turned out okay. A bit salty, added some sour cream to counteract it, don't think it helped too much.

I know it's something to learn from but I rarely have cooking disasters. Baking disasters yes. This comes from my artistic flare and desire to feel out baking like I do with cooking. Baking is mathematical. As I learned from a few attempts at fudge when I was 13 and accidently stuck 1/3 cup of salt into the mix instead of 1/3 a tablespoon. Then, next time, with my rationale and unfamiliarity with baking, I overcompensated scared that the fudge would be too salty for no rhyme or reason and put too much sugar in just to make it sweet, which obviously didn't work.

Nonetheless, looking at all of this, inspires me and it also leads me to believe there are some areas in which pastries and sweets can be experimental. As I return to the US this summer, there are some amazing fruits that grow beautifully in American summers that are rare to the tropics and the desert, so I resolve to make rhubarb crumbles, peaches and cream trifles and berry treats galore, that can be cooking experiments at home this summer. Wonderful..

So, in my last few weeks in Dubai, I am going to stick to the not so wish washy produce and wish for some awesome lettuce to magically appear so I can recreate the smoked salmon, walnut, blue cheese, peach and red pepper salad from last May, that was so scrumptious dressing was not necessary due to all those sweet, savory and salty flavors swirling together.

Mmmm, dinner time.

Ciao! Ciao!

Trying to not to be overwhelmed and reading "The Happiness Project"

It's been an amazing month. Since it started, I mean April 1 was a half day of school, then, I went to Italy. I got back and was more flexible and stronger then I have ever been in yoga. I see yellow when I meditate which I like to believe means happiness and hunger, which is potentially related to my inner peace and my hunger to do something more with my life. My mind has been clearer and my skin too. I've been reading a book by Gretchen Rubin called "The Happiness Project" which is helping me to focus my energy on doing things that make me happy. It seems like a simple concept, but sometimes your body and mind have different opinions on what's right for your energy.

The happiness project and leaving Dubai has really brought to the surface that my time in Dubai, as chaotic and uncharming at times as it's been, I have made some unbelievable friends. And, that I have some amazing friends in my life that are supporting me on my life decisions and the choices I am making. I am very interested in agriculture or catering in the next 5 years and I am beginning to think about ways to transform the dream into a reality. Whether it means taking some courses on cheese farming and getting a loan to make a small business plan, relocating to Oregon or Upstate New York to do so, I am beginning to believe in possibility. And, I have some friends in Dubai that I used to be unsure of their purpose and yet, now, I know they will be there to help me in pursuing my dreams and potentially, help shape them into action.

It's also made me decide to focus more on this blog, something that I resolved to do at the beginning of the year and haven't been doing as much as I should. While, I set myself the mild goal of writing 3-4 times a month, I think I need to up my anty and be writing at least 3 times as week, so new goal and those of you who follow. Send me hate messages if I don't do it.

Food being the center of my existence, I have to include an update on that. I've been experimenting with vegetarian cooking and trying to eat a limited amount of meat, because I just have more energy from vegetables; however, I did make a kickass lamb stew from sherrified red wine, fresh mint, garlic, onions and fresh rosemary, that turned out gorgeous. Up next is butternut squash with all spice, creme freche and feta and homemade onion marmelade with wheat rolls...

Summer plans are laid out and involve a return to Korea to see some friends that might not make it to the other side of the world soon. Returning to old friends and letting them know constantly how much they mean to you, goal in general for the summer...

It's nearing the end of the month and things are a bit wild. Trying to sort out the car situation, shipping and another of getting out of Dubai items. It's very hard not to climb in bed and believe that when you wake up all the answers will surface magically... But, again, going back to the friends, they are trying to support the falls with pillows of laughters and stories of equal frustrations.

More to come in the next few days... xo