Tuesday, November 13, 2012
The Blog Has Moved
Please head on over to the new blog (well, old blog new site), which I've migrated to www.alishagoeseverywhere.wordpress.com for greater functionality and editing ability on slow internet connections overseas. Thanks!
Monday, November 12, 2012
It's the Small Things
I spent a very comfortable first night here in Port-au-Prince last night, which reminded me once again about the value of small comforts and little victories while traveling abroad. One always goes to developing countries expecting a little bit (or a lot) of discomfort of various sorts. Foremost, perhaps, is that there's always a big question mark until you get to your hotel and figure out where you're going to be sleeping.
But before the hotel, airports are the first set of hoops to jump through. Getting through immigration can sometimes present challenges (ask me about my arrival in Niger, for example) but once you've located your bags, fended off aggressive baggage attendants grabbing your suitcase handle out of your hands, hoping to make a buck by providing the unnecessary service of rolling it to your car, and passed through customs, there's always the few minutes of unease as you try to locate whomever is picking you up. For me, it's usually a driver I've never met outside of an airport I'm unfamiliar with, so there are normally several minutes of scanning people holding signs desperately looking for one with your name on it while bombarded by taxi drivers looking for a fare ... because chances are your mobile phone doesn't work wherever you are, and you haven't had a chance to exchange money into local currency, and all your cash may or may not be in large US bills, and it may or may not be the middle of the night when your office is closed - all factors which make getting out of there a challenge if your ride does not await. After a few minutes of idle wandering to possible locations where someone may or may not be waiting for you, ideally you locate your driver and off you go. Fortunately this went smoothly yesterday, but I've had instances where it didn't, and that's really not an enjoyable experience.
And then there's the hotel. Having stayed in more terrible hotels than decent ones, I usually arrive at hotels with a sense of trepidation, despite the fact that I've gotten very good at sleeping in uncomfortable places. Will the sheets be clean? Will the pillows be filled with some disturbingly vague and lumpy substance? Will everything in the bathroom work? Will there be even a few minutes of hot water? Will there be a mosquito net? Will the room be well sealed or will there be cracks around doors and windows to let in all manner of nighttime critters that bite, skitter and slither? How many cockroaches will I have to kill before I go to bed? And above all else, will there be air conditioning that stays on when you are trying to sleep in 90-110 degree temperatures? Favorable answers to most of those are really a pretty good situation. As such, happy to report that I slept well in a clean and decent bed with reliable air conditioning and an insect-free night. Only 30 seconds of hot water for a shower, but all in all, this is more comfortable than most of my digs over the past few years. Haiti wins again!
The next big-little thing: coffee. I've been in so many places where actual, real coffee is not the norm and no matter how long you drink it, instant coffee (everywhere: Nescafe) just never quite cuts it. Coffee-growing countries like Ethiopia and Guatemala have been a solid A+ in that arena, but it's always a little daunting pouring that first cup in the morning at the hotel's breakfast buffet. Being rewarded with the taste of real coffee earns a sigh of relief morning after morning.
Other notable things that add some cheer are, yes, usually food-related. Good local beer available for a couple of dollars is always a welcome source of relaxation at the end of a hot day. When you get tired of the local beer, getting creative with your drinks can be fun, too: Team Ethiopia eventually became so sick of St. George Beer that we concocted a mixture of sweet(ish) local red wine, Sprite, and lemons and oranges. Kind of like the worst sangria you've ever had, but surprisingly refreshing. Abundant tropical fruits are also a delight; it's nice when mangoes, pineapples, dates and avocados cost just pennies for a change, and taste truly sun-ripened and sweeter or richer than ever available in the US. Certain post-colonial spots are also guaranteed to have good bread, from the briefly Italian-colonized Ethiopia's version of focaccia to excellent baguettes found in the middle of nowhere in Francophone West Africa. And finally, nothing quite hits the spot after a long, hot, dusty day in the field than a Coke in a glass bottle, made with real sugar. So this morning, I sat by the pool in the sunshine, watching long-tailed green geckos sun themselves while enjoying a cup of real coffee and a plate full of ripe pineapple and watermelon, and toast with local honey and - rarity of rarities and development worker favorite - peanut butter. Life was good.
Traveling in tough places, there are many, many sources of discomfort. One quickly learns to fully and acutely appreciate the brief enjoyment that comes from small sources of pleasure, because with those, for a moment, you're able to say, "Hey, it's not so bad here."
But before the hotel, airports are the first set of hoops to jump through. Getting through immigration can sometimes present challenges (ask me about my arrival in Niger, for example) but once you've located your bags, fended off aggressive baggage attendants grabbing your suitcase handle out of your hands, hoping to make a buck by providing the unnecessary service of rolling it to your car, and passed through customs, there's always the few minutes of unease as you try to locate whomever is picking you up. For me, it's usually a driver I've never met outside of an airport I'm unfamiliar with, so there are normally several minutes of scanning people holding signs desperately looking for one with your name on it while bombarded by taxi drivers looking for a fare ... because chances are your mobile phone doesn't work wherever you are, and you haven't had a chance to exchange money into local currency, and all your cash may or may not be in large US bills, and it may or may not be the middle of the night when your office is closed - all factors which make getting out of there a challenge if your ride does not await. After a few minutes of idle wandering to possible locations where someone may or may not be waiting for you, ideally you locate your driver and off you go. Fortunately this went smoothly yesterday, but I've had instances where it didn't, and that's really not an enjoyable experience.
And then there's the hotel. Having stayed in more terrible hotels than decent ones, I usually arrive at hotels with a sense of trepidation, despite the fact that I've gotten very good at sleeping in uncomfortable places. Will the sheets be clean? Will the pillows be filled with some disturbingly vague and lumpy substance? Will everything in the bathroom work? Will there be even a few minutes of hot water? Will there be a mosquito net? Will the room be well sealed or will there be cracks around doors and windows to let in all manner of nighttime critters that bite, skitter and slither? How many cockroaches will I have to kill before I go to bed? And above all else, will there be air conditioning that stays on when you are trying to sleep in 90-110 degree temperatures? Favorable answers to most of those are really a pretty good situation. As such, happy to report that I slept well in a clean and decent bed with reliable air conditioning and an insect-free night. Only 30 seconds of hot water for a shower, but all in all, this is more comfortable than most of my digs over the past few years. Haiti wins again!
The next big-little thing: coffee. I've been in so many places where actual, real coffee is not the norm and no matter how long you drink it, instant coffee (everywhere: Nescafe) just never quite cuts it. Coffee-growing countries like Ethiopia and Guatemala have been a solid A+ in that arena, but it's always a little daunting pouring that first cup in the morning at the hotel's breakfast buffet. Being rewarded with the taste of real coffee earns a sigh of relief morning after morning.
Other notable things that add some cheer are, yes, usually food-related. Good local beer available for a couple of dollars is always a welcome source of relaxation at the end of a hot day. When you get tired of the local beer, getting creative with your drinks can be fun, too: Team Ethiopia eventually became so sick of St. George Beer that we concocted a mixture of sweet(ish) local red wine, Sprite, and lemons and oranges. Kind of like the worst sangria you've ever had, but surprisingly refreshing. Abundant tropical fruits are also a delight; it's nice when mangoes, pineapples, dates and avocados cost just pennies for a change, and taste truly sun-ripened and sweeter or richer than ever available in the US. Certain post-colonial spots are also guaranteed to have good bread, from the briefly Italian-colonized Ethiopia's version of focaccia to excellent baguettes found in the middle of nowhere in Francophone West Africa. And finally, nothing quite hits the spot after a long, hot, dusty day in the field than a Coke in a glass bottle, made with real sugar. So this morning, I sat by the pool in the sunshine, watching long-tailed green geckos sun themselves while enjoying a cup of real coffee and a plate full of ripe pineapple and watermelon, and toast with local honey and - rarity of rarities and development worker favorite - peanut butter. Life was good.
Traveling in tough places, there are many, many sources of discomfort. One quickly learns to fully and acutely appreciate the brief enjoyment that comes from small sources of pleasure, because with those, for a moment, you're able to say, "Hey, it's not so bad here."
Sunday, November 11, 2012
On The Road Again
I know, I know. I've been awful at keeping this blog up during the last year of travels, but it's been nice to have so many of you chiding me for it. So yes, I apologize that you've missed out on Niger, Mauritania and Guatemala - and some fun vacation travel around Mexico and Hawaii, too. I've been chipping away at a travel memoir so maybe eventually I'll put together something cohesive and share some of those experiences.
But for now, you get Haiti.
Traveling to Haiti feels like checking an important box. It's development work central - has been for years, but especially in the post-earthquake years, so along with Ethiopia, this feels like earning a humanitarian aid badge of sorts. (Now all I need are Afghanistan and Sudan, right Mom?)
I'm here doing assessment and design work for a nutrition and agriculture program, subjects which I've done a pretty good job of carving out as a technical niche. Many of you have heard me lament my lack of technical specialization over the years, but I'm still fully enjoying being a "food security person".
Haiti, stunning island that she is, is an entirely different cultural context from anywhere I've worked before. Parts of Africa and the Middle East feel like second nature at this point, but Guatemala and now here are interesting learning experiences for me given how different they are from where I've been before. Yet the big pieces are the same where things like nutrition, maternal and child health, and agriculture are concerned ... the trends are strikingly consistent wherever you go, although discovering the nuances and variations below the surface is sociologically and anthropologically fascinating, to say the least. Digging deep into the subtleties is really the most fun.
I'll be here for just ten days - a few days in the capital of Port-au-Prince on the front and back ends, with a few days up in the north in and around the city of Cap-Haitien in the middle. Ten days is just enough to begin feeling like you're starting to understand things, but I think the mix of recurrent disaster, decades of political instability and classic multidimensional poverty make for a complicated mix to grapple with as one tries to make sense of things.
In the immediate sense, however, it's just nice to be back in the field. I've been "stuck" in the US for almost five months, and that feels like ages without traveling. The crush of a small, dilapidated airport ... throngs of taxi drivers scrambling for your attention ... heat, sweat and diesel fumes ... all such familiar sensations that make me feel like I'm home again despite being in an entirely new and foreign place. I sat outside after dark, amidst potted plants near the hotel pool, and enjoyed dinner (simple slow-fried pork with onions, peppers and plantains) and a few local beers. The idle hum of a generator, punctuated by the chirps of geckos and nearby conversations in English, French, Spanish and Haitian Kreyol, provided a comforting soundtrack that greeted me like the voice of a dear old friend. The acrid smell of burning garbage and the sudden stinging itch of mosquito bites on the thin skin of the tops of my feet were even welcoming in their familiarity. French with hotel staff flowed like I'd never missed a day in speaking it, and the renewed feelings of independence and newness made me feel freer than I have in months. It is lovely to be adrift in the world again.
But for now, you get Haiti.
Traveling to Haiti feels like checking an important box. It's development work central - has been for years, but especially in the post-earthquake years, so along with Ethiopia, this feels like earning a humanitarian aid badge of sorts. (Now all I need are Afghanistan and Sudan, right Mom?)
I'm here doing assessment and design work for a nutrition and agriculture program, subjects which I've done a pretty good job of carving out as a technical niche. Many of you have heard me lament my lack of technical specialization over the years, but I'm still fully enjoying being a "food security person".
Haiti, stunning island that she is, is an entirely different cultural context from anywhere I've worked before. Parts of Africa and the Middle East feel like second nature at this point, but Guatemala and now here are interesting learning experiences for me given how different they are from where I've been before. Yet the big pieces are the same where things like nutrition, maternal and child health, and agriculture are concerned ... the trends are strikingly consistent wherever you go, although discovering the nuances and variations below the surface is sociologically and anthropologically fascinating, to say the least. Digging deep into the subtleties is really the most fun.
I'll be here for just ten days - a few days in the capital of Port-au-Prince on the front and back ends, with a few days up in the north in and around the city of Cap-Haitien in the middle. Ten days is just enough to begin feeling like you're starting to understand things, but I think the mix of recurrent disaster, decades of political instability and classic multidimensional poverty make for a complicated mix to grapple with as one tries to make sense of things.
In the immediate sense, however, it's just nice to be back in the field. I've been "stuck" in the US for almost five months, and that feels like ages without traveling. The crush of a small, dilapidated airport ... throngs of taxi drivers scrambling for your attention ... heat, sweat and diesel fumes ... all such familiar sensations that make me feel like I'm home again despite being in an entirely new and foreign place. I sat outside after dark, amidst potted plants near the hotel pool, and enjoyed dinner (simple slow-fried pork with onions, peppers and plantains) and a few local beers. The idle hum of a generator, punctuated by the chirps of geckos and nearby conversations in English, French, Spanish and Haitian Kreyol, provided a comforting soundtrack that greeted me like the voice of a dear old friend. The acrid smell of burning garbage and the sudden stinging itch of mosquito bites on the thin skin of the tops of my feet were even welcoming in their familiarity. French with hotel staff flowed like I'd never missed a day in speaking it, and the renewed feelings of independence and newness made me feel freer than I have in months. It is lovely to be adrift in the world again.
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