true life planet

Something that has been on my mind lately..

Today I was my last day in France. I celebrated by going into “town”–a tiny village nearby called Syselle.

I’m sure many people would miss this sweet little charming place, or think there was nothing to see and do there. However, I had a wonderful few hours there, doing everything from eating locally made pastry to visiting a little known bird sanctuary to finding myself drinking wine at an impromtu wine tasting in the local supermarket.

I guess I’ve always been the kind of person that can make the best of it, or “make do”. Certainly this skill is incredibly useful when it comes to the art of travel. But what is probably even more important is knowing how to be resourceful when one travels.

Resourceful. I realized today that if I was asked to descibe what kind of traveler I am, I would use that word to descibe myself.

Resourcefulness and backpacking go hand in hand. Unfortunately, the word resourceful in this context generally conjures up the backpacker who is having to be resourceful because they really don’t have enough money to travel in the manner to which they are attempting. This is the backpacker who is always looking for a “connection”, a place to stay in the next city or country, or looking for a free meal.

Not that there is anything partially wrong with this scenario, but it’s not the kind of resourcefulness I’m talking about here.

I’m talking about the kind of resourcefulness that really allows one to have a fuller, deeper, and more “live like the locals” kind of travel experience. For example, being in a tiny village for several hours in the south of France, and finding out that there are alot of hidden gems in the area, just by walking around, observing people, and talking with them. Not going to the expensive tourist restaurants and sights, but choosing instead to talk with a sculptor who takes you on an impromptu tour of his studio. Finding the cemetery and listening to an old man, raking the gravel walkways, talk about how his village has changed over the years.

In attempting to be a resourceful traveler, not only do I find myself in strange situations with people I would not normally have the likelihood to meet, but I am forced to practice a degree of self reliance that is similar to inviting 10 people to dinner and starting to cook the meal 10 minutes before they are due to arrive. It feels a bit crazy, flying by the seat of my pants through one interaction or experience after another, but it’s so much more satisfying. Afterwards, I always find myself saying, “Did you really just do that?!”

This trip which started as such an organized, well thought out plan, of where I was going to where I was staying for the next few years has happily disintegrated into a trip where I hope I have no idea of what I am doing tomorrow. I love not knowing what is next because it forces me to think, to act, to make choices based on my impressions and my skills. Maybe even develop some skills right there in that moment–like when I was in Guatemala and had to row my own wooden canoe through water snakes and crocodiles. I had never rowed a canoe in my life, and I was afraid of boats, let alone crocodiles–I looked around for some gringo or guide to help me and there wasn’t one. It was just me. I learned to row a canoe in about 2 minutes! (Landing it and getting out were another story entirely!)

In a few days, I will be in an area of the world that is the gateway to the Andaman and Nicobar Islands, a small cluster of islands of the coast of India. It’s a place of many a traveler’s fantasies, with beautiful beaches, bamboo huts, and diving and snorkeling. But is that all there is?

The answer is no, in spite of what any guidebook will tell you. What is actually there remains to be seen, to be discovered.

I started out reading guidebooks religiously when I started this trip. I carried them around like they were the Bible, and I only went to things they suggested. Unfortunately, I soon learned that that is what most other travelers were doing too. Now I use the books as a basic guide to start out with and then give them away, preferring to get completely disoriented and figure things out by myself.

But back to the Andaman Islands..There are 6 different indigenous groups living on the islands, along with a mix of everyone else who has decided to go and live there over the years. Of these groups, some have resisted outsiders by becoming quite violent at the sight of a foreigner, while others have had their population increase dramatically due to religious conversion, amongst other reasons.

I imagine the Andaman islands full of rich tourists looking for a tropical island getaway and poorer backpackers, swinging in hammocks and taking  a diving  class or two. It’s also full of lots of displaced people who have lost their identity since losing lands and territories due to a huge tsunami that hit the islands several years ago.

I’ve been thinking about going to the islands, because they are very close to Calcutta and one can get there by boat. But I don’t want to be a rich tourist, and hire a guide…nor do I want to follow the advice to the letter of whatever Lonely Planet says about what to see and do. For me, Lonely Planet is a resource–a place to begin. But it’s not the journey.  The journey is after you give up the backpacker scene and move in with the locals.

Why go all the way to the other side of the world just to hang out with people just like myself? When I have done this (My first 2 months in Xela, Guatemala comes to mind) I have been so unsatisfied with my journey and my understanding of the culture. I like the challenge of being different, of being around difference, because it forces me to rely on myself and be a resourceful traveler.

I’d much rather get very much off the gringo trail, get completely lost, be with people who spoke a language I did not understand, and have one interesting adventure to talk about when I got home–paired with a deeper understanding of place.

I imagine that going to the Andaman islands would be no different than going to a small, seemingly faceless village in France. It doesn’t have to be a touristy destination–in fact, it could be a destination that becomes one of the most significant on my around the world trip, and teaches me the most about the environment and global warming.

Resourcefulness is key for the  sensitive traveler who wants to appreciate what things are actually like for the people they are seeing in the street, the shops, the market. It’s the key to understanding why one is traveling in the first place, and it requires getting off the beaten trail to do just that.

I know Calcutta will prove to be place where resourcefulness is a valuable, and even necessary, skill.  Hundreds of volunteers are attracted to coming and working there every year, and there is a strong gringo presence in some areas of the city. I know that my first few days there, that’s where I’ll be, eating my tofu burgers and swapping traveler’s tales on the rooftop of some backpacker hostel.

But after a few days of that, I hope to be living far away from that part of town, hopefully in a local’s house or a rented room in the middle of who knows where, struggling to figure out a language and customs while experiencing some serious culture shock all on my own.

Flying by the seat of my pants, and loving every minute of it.

gigi

I was in Geneva, Switzerland a few days ago. I was a little bit nervous about being there, because:

a.) I’ve been spending the last few weeks living rather monastically in an old farmhouse in France with tons of cats and a only a few people.!

and

b.) I had heard it was more expensive than Paris.

When I got there, I used up several hours in the morning spending time with protesters and other folks of similar ilk around the UN, leaving me with only 6 hours to spend in the city itself.

I had been advised to take a bus, but as buses cost 3 francs and  as my new thing is to be the frugal traveler, I decided to walk.

I usually enjoy walking, as one discovers many things you never see when taking transportation, but walking in Geneva turned out to be an exhausting experience. I resorted to using the free bikes (they have 5 free bike stations in the city) twice as my legs felt like they were in a meat grinder. I had not been feeling well for several days beforehand, and I think the walking around the city was too much for me.

That night, when I returned to the cats, farmhouse, and so forth my legs were still killing me. A few hours later, my temperature soared. Great. I apparently got some sort of flu or cold and somehow my day in Geneva made it much worse. Not entirely surprising, as I compute that I walked about 12 miles and rode a bike for about the same..in 6 hours!

I’ve been trying to get better ever since–after all, I leave for India on Wednesday.

When I wasn’t trying to bring a fever down or napping these last few days, I managed to write out this list of things I did in Geneva.

Ok, Here goes:

Before I get to my list of what I did, let me say that food in Geneva is the most expensive I have seen in Europe. For example, it was 6 dollars for a Coke, 14 dollars for single crepe.. I was beginning to think that I was going to have to go beyond my 12 dollar rule and spend some serious cash on something bland, overpriced, and unsatisfying, when I discovered Salsabel Home Food Service , a tiny grocery store and to go eatery that specializes in Indian food for the impossibly cheap people like me. It’s right past the train station (walking away from the UN towards the river) on the right at the bottom corner of the Coop building, on La Voie-Creuse. I got a bag of hot vegie pakoras for 2 dollars, and I was on my way.

1.) I was walking for what seemed like forever when I bumped into the Botanical Gardens. Strangely, they were not even mentioned in my  borrowed copy of the Rough Guide To Switzerland, so I was surprised when they turned out to be amazingly cool. In spite of several nasty tour groups of ill behaved school children, there were  several quiet spots to sit and admire the view. There were also many types of gardens, including a witches’s garden, and eco garden, a rock garden…the strangest thing they had was a oddball collection of animals, which included about 20 deer. The deer seemed to be entirely domesticated and actually barked at visitors, like dogs. Very strange indeed. They also had an very interesting free exhibit on the fractals of flowers and the mathematical equations of plants, as well as tropical greenhouses and that sort of thing. (free)

2.) I saw a glimpse of the river Rhone and so kept walking that direction, finally running into the river itself and walked along the Promenade. Scenic vistas aside, it gave me a spectacular view of the landmark of the city, the Jet d’ Eau. This jet of water goes up into the air more than 140meters, and people spend alot of money to take  a boat out to it and get drenched. I chose to look at it from afar instead. (free)

3.) I discovered that Geneva has a free bike program just like Paris. Apparently the city decided that having free bikes would make it easier for the homeless and jobless to get employment. So far, it does not seem to be working, with unemployment and homelessness at an all-time high. I hopped on a free bike and rode to the famous Old Town part of the city.

4.) Speaking of homelessness, I should say that the homeless people in Europe are so well dressed that it takes me a moment to realize that they are homeless. In Paris I noticed bag ladies fully accessorized with earrings and Hermes scarves–and  Geneva is no different is this regard. The homeless of Geneva look a bit worn down, with scuffed shoes and uncombed hair..but then, so do I. There are alot of homeless in the Old Town area, especially around the Parc des Bastions, which features an enormous life size chess game.(free)

5.) One thing I definitely wanted to see is anything associated with the Calvinist Movement–a Protestant movement that changed the Western world. Geneva is where it really took off. I head to the wall called the  Wall of the Reformation, which has four statues that are 5 meters tall of Calvin and his main supporters. These are de Beze, who took Calvin’s role up as spiritual father of the city after Calvin died; Farel, the first person to even talk of a Reformation in Geneva; and Knox, a Scotsman who was a colorful character in his own right, publishing  a book which has made him unpopular with women everywhere ever since, called,      “The First Blast of the Trumpet Against the Montrous Regiment of Women”. (free)

6.) All this Reformation stuff gets me interested in finding out more on this group of men and what kind of effect their beliefs had in Geneva. So I head to the enormous Cathedrale de St. Pierre, which at first looks completely unappealing–but then, that’s just when I’m looking at the outside of the place. It looks like someone has not been able to make up their mind about how the church should look, and so they have added on all kinds of bits and pieces which make the outside of it quite unattractive. Inside, however, it took my breath away. It’s simplicity and beauty are worth a visit alone. But this simplicity came at a pretty high price–back in 1535 the people of Geneva went wild and stripped the place bare, whitewashed the walls, destroyed the paintings, altar, and so forth as a demonstration of their support for the Reformation. (free)

7.) In spite of the fact that the Reformation did cause the cathedral to lose some it’s glory, I had to look at Calvin and his friends with a certain degree of admiration. They all showed up to Geneva because no one else would take them–they were, in a sense, asking for religious asylum from Switzerland. Once they got it, they brought everyone from ministers to printers to bookbinders to the city to support their cause. Across from the Cathedral is the little- visited Auditorium Calvin, which now is home to the Presbyterian Church that Knox started back in Scotland. Inside is a very well done exhibit on Knox and the refugees that came to the city, starting in 1555, due to religious persecution (at the time Queen Mary in England was executing them right and left). Most interesting was the exhibit on the famous Geneva Bible, a Bible that was created by the leaders of the Reformation in 1560. It revolutionized religion for the masses because it was put together in a way that simple people could understand, with illustrations and numbered verses. (free)

8.)  I decide I need to know a bit more about the city’s history. Luckily for me I was  right next door to the Mason Tavel Museum, which turns out to be a rather odd place full of wacky pieces of Geneva’s history. What strikes me as odd about the place is that upon entering, I notice that I am the only one there. Other than a woman at a desk, who sends me to the elevator with a wave of her hand, there does not seem to be soul in the place. She sends me some underworld realm to put my daypack in a locker, and somehow I end up in the employee lounge. Somehow I manage to find my way out of the lounge and back onto the ground floor, deciding to keep my backpack with me instead. The museum turns out to be full of strange interesting stuff, like guillotines (which have very blunt blades, by the way); guns; armor; rooms set up as they would have been in the past; and a vast array of..wallpaper samples. Sound humdrum? Strangely, it was all put together so well that it wasn’t boring. It gave me a very accurate picture of what life was like back then. The best part of the museum I found entirely by accident–a big relief map of the city, on the very top floor. It took my breath away.(free)

8.) After taking  a quick look at the Hotel de Ville, a famous building where lots of politicians have met over the past 100plus years to sign various agreements and make deals, I decided to head to the Museum of Art and History, which is supposedly the country’s crowning achievement as far as museums go. Well, I’ve seen lots of museums on this trip and it was..okay. There were so many kinds of art, that it was impossible to see it all properly; and the collection itself was seemly eccentric, so it was hard to stick with it. I finally escaped into the archeology section of the museum, and found that worthwhile.(free)

9.) Feeling somewhat disappointed by the large museum, I figured that another museum I had already heard about from a friend would not disappoint. And it didn’t. The huge, well thought out Museum of Ethnography was spectacular. It had a huge collection of “primitive art” but it also had a large collection of war weapons, particularly from the Orient. Normally I wouldn’t be interested in that sort of thing, but here they seemed to be displayed to invite the viewer to look at them more as pieces of art. (free)

10.) Feeling like I needed some fresh air, I headed over to Place de Volontaires, a big square that has a wonderful vibe and feels a bit more interesting than the rest of the squeaky-clean city. I sat on a bench and ate my lunch of vegetable pakora while doing some serious people watching. After listening to a few street musicians play some great Turkish music, I hopped on a free bike again, this time with the destination of Carouge. (free)

11.) You’d think riding a bike around a city like this would be dangerous, but it’s not. I have never been in a city–or anywhere, for that matter–where everyone is so polite to both cyclists and walkers. It’s a jaywalker’s dream city.. Anyway, Carouge is a bit outside of the city. I wanted to go there because I had read it was full of artsy type people and galleries. It did not disappoint. The streets were not only full of interesting people, art studios, and shops, but the place itself was warm and inviting. People’s gardens ran out to the street, and garden gates were open. Many gardens were full of sculptures and garden art. I loved it. (free)

12.) It was getting late and I had a few more things I wanted to see, so I rode the free bike over to Les Grottes, a famous public housing project that is modeled on a combination of Gaudi-esque design and a cartoon-like sensibility. The people who lived in the project turned out to be the most ethnically diverse of all the people I had seen in this very white city. I enjoyed sitting in the park with the many Muslim women out enjoying the park with their children. It was a relief to be around more than just people like myself.  I breathed in the culture and enjoyed the view–weird mushroom doorways and candy-like balconies…kids must love growing up there. (free)

13.) Next on my list was the Museum Voltaire, which was one of my favorite things I got to see in Geneva. It’s full of his books and scribblings, and if you are a fan of Voltaire it’s a must see. It’s in  a beautiful mansion and is surprisingly romantic in feeling..his personal collection of objects’de art are impressive, too. (free)

14.) I turn the bike in and walk all the way to the Red Cross Museum. I was saving this museum for last, in part because I knew going there was going to be a heady, somewhat emotional experience. It also has a hefty pricetag of 10 francs,  which is alot for me but I figured it would  be worth it. It was. The museum itself is inside the Red Cross building, and it’s quite small. But what they have managed to create within that small space is a very moving testament to both the Red Cross and humanity. It’s difficult to describe, but it hits you, like a load of bricks. It was a little like walking into a sliding glass door–over and over again. So, it’s unpleasant in that sense, but in another sense it’s something you have to do to learn, so you don’t do it anymore. I suppose the question here is, how many times do you have to walk into it?

The museum is full of photographs and large scale video and interactive displays. It gave me the sense that I was a part of what I was looking at, not just observing it.

Some of the exhibits I found most moving:

-A video of surgeons and doctors talking about working as humanitarian aid workers during wars, and how they have learned which weapons have what kind of interaction with the human body. The question they were asking was : “What type of interaction is permissible?”

-Videos of the typhoid epidemic in Poland and the Plague epidemic in Manchuria. Hard to watch, but I watched them anyway.

-A room which one had to walk into carefully, full of prosthetic legs, posters warning children to be careful around landmines, and a video of people in Cambodia and Columbia being fitted for artificial limbs.

-A huge exhibit on art made by prisoners of war.

A very full day, with the best museum saved for last. I’m not sure I could have walked around the rest of the city if I had gone to the Red Cross museum first, as it was very heavy and it made me very sad. In spite of this, I was content that for my one single day in the city, I managed to get a feel for the place. And on 12 dollars, too.

gigi

So I’ve gotten a few emails lately..about the new look of this blog, and it’s changeover to a different kind of theme than what it was in the past. It’s got a new subtitle, a new blog list, and a whole new…character.

Now, when I started out, I was perfectly happy just saying I was volunteering and traveling for awhile. But–I’ve changed the subtitle to reflect the most recent changes I’ve gone through. The new subtitle says, “woman saves world–and self”.

In spite of the fact that some people think it’s ridiculous to even try to do such a thing, let alone say it..I’m really quite content with the change. It makes sense to me and to the direction my life seems to be taking.

I was reading a volunteer site the other day..one of sites where you pay to go somewhere and volunteer for a few weeks. In their online introduction, they said , ” Never think that you are going to change the world by being  a volunteer. You will be very disappointed if you go into a volunteer placement with that expectation.”

Well, this sort of chatter made sense to me..a year ago. But now it seems incredible that people are actually told that they will not change the world, save the world, cause a revolution, create a miracle..just by volunteering or by leading  a life of service.

I mean, why not? Why can’t it change the world? Why can’t we save the world?

It’s this attitude that often brings me down. I really dislike it when I come across it in literature or in individuals.

I have not found it to be true, and I’ve been volunteering and traveling the globe for a year now.

What I have found to be true, however, is that change happens within. In order to change the world, I’ve got to allow my world as I know it to be turned inside out. Everything I know, everything I believe has to be tested.

Those of you sending me emails who don’t like the changes in the blog..you frustrate me. I do not know how to convince you that change is possible.

I have thought this over and decided on a solution. Please come join me in Panama this following summer and live in the jungle for a few weeks with an indigenous tribe. I will be working in the mountains in a very remote location teaching English, basic health care, and lots of other things. It will be a gritty two weeks for you, but it will literally change your life. You will cast aside your idea that change–world change is not possible. You will cast aside the idea that you are not only vital for that change to happen–you are the change that is going to happen.

End of rant. Thank you for listening.

And–any interested parties–please contact me. I will be in Panama from May until sometime in October, and you are very welcome to join me there.

gigi

and some food for thought…

” Life’s most urgent question: What are you doing for others?” – Martin Luther King Junior

” Teach this triple truth to all: A generous heart, kind speech, and a life of service and compassion are the only things that will renew humanity.”- Buddha

” Start with what is necessary, then with what is possible; and suddenly, you find you are doing the impossible.” – St. Francis of Assissi.

” Conciously or unconciously, everyone does render some service or another. If we cultivate the habit of doing this serivce, deliberately, our desire for service will steadily grow stronger, and will make not only for our own happiness–but that of the world at large.”- Mohandas Ghandi

Part Two of  a series..NOT appropriate for children under age 13. Please have your parents read first! thanks..

In front of the UN is a big sculpture of a broken chair. The chair was put there in the late 90’s to protest the use of landmines.

Under the chair, and directly around it, is an enormous public square, which has been put to use by people from all over the world protesting every thing you can think of.

Walking up to the square was a very interesting experience…I could see the enormous chair, a group of protesters, holding flags, banners, people talking with microphones..it’s a strange sight to see so much activity and color in a neighborhood that is, quite frankly, full of boring buildings and office workers.

The protesters turned to be from Iran.I had never really talked to anyone at any length from Iran. My small town American life back at home does not give me many opportunities to meet Iranians. I was immediately struck by how little I knew about Iran and it’s people. Everything I know I only know from media–newspapers, the news on tv–I don’t really know much more than what has been easy to know.

The protesters had been in front of the UN for about a month.They were all protesting on behalf of their friends and families–some 3500 people– that were living in a camp in Iraq.

The name of the camp is Ashraf. It’s about 30 kilometers from the Iranian border.

Everyone in the camp belongs to a political party that doesn’t like the current Iranian political policies, and they consider the current leader to be a religious dictator. The name of their group is the PMOI, or the People’s Mojahedin Organization of Iran. They are the main opposition movement to the current group in power.

According to the protesters, the problems with the current government running  Iran include the following:

1. It’s a religious dictatorship. That means if you believe something different than them, you either have to change your mind or suffer. For example, many thousands of Muslims who want a more secular and democratic Iraq. For example, many thousands of Christians, who want to practice their faith. And many others..they also control all creativity–as in the type and production of all creative thought by artists and writers.

2. It wants Iran to become a country with a nuclear program, and is making bombs.

3. It has created a terrible situation for women and women’s rights, including the practice of punishing women for not being fully covered/wearing the veil.

4. It has violated human rights, and regularly resorts to things like killing people publicly and torture as a way of repressing people. Things like amputations, public stoning to death, and so on are commonplace.

5. Children and youth are severely limited in educational opportunities and also have their human rights violated.

The people living in Ashraf have managed to do so because they have been protected under something called The Geneva Convention, which gives them a status of “protected persons”. Right now, this means that they are currently under the protection of the Allied Forces in Iraq.

But soon, all that may change, as under a new agreement recently made, the people living in Ashraf will have to return to Iran. To do so means certain death.

More than 30,000 people belonging to this political group have been killed, and what’s more, all of the people in Ashraf have been condemned to death in absentia. What this means is that in the eyes of Iran, is that all these people are all going to be executed the moment they get transferred over the border.

Pretty heavy hitting stuff.

I spoke to a beautiful, well spoken Iranian woman named Sohelia for about an hour about the history of Iran, the current political situation there, and about the lives of those living in Ashraf.

She also introduced me to many others who were protesting there with her, all of who had families and friends living in the camp.

They had big posters, filled with photographs of the people in the camp.

” This is my brother.” “This is my sister.” “These are my daughters.” “This is my grandchild.”

Everyone came over to me and led me to the posters, pointing out those that they loved and were so worried about.It makes it..so much more real..to see the faces of actual people who are in this situation, to hear the stories from their families. It hit home and it made me think.

There were also many, many enormous posters of photographs of people who had been tortured, killed, and executed in Iran. It was..very disturbing to look at, but I decided to look at all the photos carefully to commit them to my memory. I wanted to hold those images in my mind as I continued on this trip. I wanted to remember those people.

That took..a courage I did not know I had. I couldn’t even watch a scary movie a year ago, and now I found myself peering closely at photographs of things I cannot even describe here.Something else I learned is that the methods of torturing killing people who are in the PMOI party are extreme. I will not describe what I saw in the pictures …. I can only say..that a human body was no longer recognizable when the torturers were done. And that was just the torture. The pictures of people who had been executed were even more chilling.

The Iranians who had been in front of the UN protesting for days had not given up hope. They continued to protest, to try to prevent what will surely be a human catastrophe, hoping to be heard…

Unfortunately, they have not had a positive response to date from the UN to date. According to the spokesman of the group, the UN had told them only that, ” ..it was aware of the situation and know all about it..”

Chilling words. If they know about it–then how can they allow it to happen?

I walked away from Soheila and the other protesters, extremely moved…and thinking about how I take so much for granted.

Alot of times people get cynical and hopeless and think that humanity is going to be the end of itself. There is so much pain ans suffering in the world, and it’s all caused by people.

The one thing that gives me a real hopefulness is that people do actually know what is right and what is good, and that they are willing to take great risks and sacrifice to bring that to the surface of what would otherwise sometimes be a very murky and disturbing world.

So, fight your cynical nature. Don’t give up–I’m not.

It’s all about information, education and awareness. The more of these I possess, the more I am going to be able to speak up for what is right and good.

At the start of this trip, I knew nothing….Seriously, I knew so little.

My brain and my inactive life were pretty much a blank canvas.

Oh, I volunteered at at the local soup kitchen and so on..but I just didn’t know much about the world and what people are actually dealing with. Maybe I didn’t want to–who knows? It’s kind of hard for me to relate to whoever that woman was  a year ago..let alone two months ago.

But I am living proof that you can take  a totally inactive person who is content and basically uninvolved in the world and turn them into someone who is actually seeking out being more aware every day. What I end up doing with all this new found awareness remains to be seen–but it can only make my life and the life of others around me better than it was before.

gigi

Yesterday I got to spend the entire day in Geneva, and the following entries are from notes and journal entries I made through out the day there.. I spent the entire day walking around and riding the free bikes they have all over the city. Amazing day.

Geneva is beautiful.

It’s  a big, beautiful city, and it’s the sort of place one feel like things are getting done. And they are. It’s the home to the United Nations and countless other organizations, each one trying to help humanity in it’s own way.

That’s one way of looking at it. There is another way, too..

My friends dropped me off near the UN about 8 am..and I started walking.

Since I started out walking from the UN complex, I ran into alot of protesters. Not everyone agrees with the way things go behind closed doors here, and it’s refreshing to see that people are allowed to say so.

The first protesters I ran into were a French couple who have been protesting daily in for the independence of the World Health Organization. They’ve been there everyday from 8am to 6pm, carrying placards and handing out literature to passerby on the street. I had to admire their commitment–I mean, it snows there in the winter, and they continue on anyway!

What are they so impassioned about? Well, let’s talk first about the World Health Organization.

In simple terms, WHO is supposed to be the international health authority of the world. It is supposed to provide international guidelines, using science and medicine, to protect the health of all peoples around the globe.

The question is, is it doing this? Well, it does have a constitution that basically is supposed to serve as it’s bylaws, and according to that constitution, it is not.

The constitution clearly states that any scientific or medical guidance that WHO recieves has to be free of commercial interest. That basically means that companies and other agencies can’t influence the decisions of WHO.

Stay with me here. I sense you drifting off. Just keep reading thru the rigamorole and you’ll be glad you did.

Anyway, WHO has a big problem, and it’s name is the International Atomic Energy Agency. For some reason, WHO got very friendly with this group in 1959, and put that friendship into writing. The problem is that the International Atomic Energy Agency was started to promote civil nuclear energy. So now that they are friends, WHO can’t do anything to help people who have been affected by the misuse of nuclear energy, because due to it’s friendship with this other organization, it is now subordinate to it.

Basically, what that means is that it can’t do what it was designed to do–help people who need it in the areas of health.

The WHO needs to become independent so that it can take care of the people of the world, without worrying that it has to first support private interests.

All this wouldn’t mean so much to me–or to you–if I hadn’t become aware of, just yesterday, what this actually means.Before yesterday, all of the above was just a bunch of words to me. But when you look at these words and see how they create policies that harm real people, it all takes on a lot more significance.

A good example to use to illustrate what this means is the castastrophe that happened in Chernobyl. To refresh your memory, look it up on Wikipedia. But, basically, the entire city was exposed to massive amounts of radiation on April 26th, 1986.

It seems that WHO did help–to a point. Even after the event happened, ten years later they had a big conference where they brought together lots of different people to talk about Chernobyl and how the radiation had affected the health of the people there. Over 500 experts presented at the conference and they showed that there were going to be some terrible long term affects to the people in Chernobyl because of the huge amounts of radiation they had been exposed to.

Who knows why, but WHO never made public what these experts said. So the people of Chernobyl continued to suffer.

And not just the people of Chernobyl, but the people of all the communities near the place, too.

WHO has done lots of other things towards helping the people in Chernobyl since then, but they haven’t really addressed the bigger issues of nuclear power, radiation, and exposure and how they all ahve long term affects on people’s health and well being.

Here are some statistics of some of the ways health has been impacted for the people who suffered from the Chernobyl disaster:

6,000 children with thyroid cancer

4, 421 children born with severe birth defects

1,000 children with leukemia

80% of all children are ill with debilitating illnesses in the areas that were contaminated

All the land remains contaminated, and in the words of one child,” Our garden is dead.”

All food sources have to be brought in, which is too expensive, so people are hungry.

The people who cleaned the mess up were called “liquidators”.  Due to their hard work and sacrifice, they not only cleaned up an environmental disaster, they  averted a large scale catastrophe of larger contamination outside of Russia. But they also died (over 30,000) and more than 80% suffer from debilitating illnesses.

What does all this mean? Well, it means that if the WHO was independent from this other group, it could have helped the people of Chernobyl more. It means that it could have prevented what is still an ongoing human loss of health and life. It means that even though some of us like nuclear power plants for the cheap energy they provide, they aren’t worth the larger cost.

It’s the job of the World Health Organization to inform every man of his rights regarding receiving complete information about his health, his children’s health, and his family’s health–with regard to what must be avoided and why. And they can’t do this right now. This has to change.

It’s hard to relate to all this. Even as I write it, it seems kind of..distant..to me and my readers. But it’s not. It’s a real problem, and although it seems very far away right now, it deserves our attention.

I’ve written all of the above from notes I made while talking to the protesters. At the bottom of my notes I wrote: “Note to self:  Do something about this.”

It may seem kind of funny to think that I can do anything–but I can. If it was my family that was affected , I’d be making phone calls, writing letters..doing whatever I could think of. But..it is my family who has been affected, because I’m a citizen of the world.

You can find more info on this by going to www.independentwho.info

gigi

Kids. They continue to surprise me and sometimes blow my mind with their amazingly clear perceptions on everything from the environment to politics.

One thing I love about kids is that they don’t beat around the bush like adults–they tell you like it is. Adults spend an awful lot of time trying to tell you how it is without ever actually saying much.

Today, I spent the day in Geneva, Switzerland. A very beautiful, yet startling expensive city, I decided to walk instead of taking the bus..and in doing so ended up walking by an open air exhibit about kids and how they look at poverty and wealth.

The exhibit was the creation of a Swiss organization which is trying to address and educate the people of Switzerland and the world about hunger–in particular, hungry children.

In a series of billboards along the river Rhone, huge photographs had been blown up with captions written by kids.

The project involved thousands of kids from all over the world, who had to either submit a photograph or choose a photograph from thousands available. They had to choose a theme, either wealth or poverty, and choose the photo that best represented that concept. Then they wrote one sentence telling the viewer what wealth or poverty meant to them.

Here are some of the things kids said:

( Under a photo of a man, well dressed, in Burkina Faso)

” Wealth is somebody who has a big villa, cattle, and has food to eat.”

(Under a photo of jungle-like forest in El Salvador)

” To me, wealth is a landscape full of trees and also water. Because, if we did not have those things we would not be on Earth. No one would be.”

(Under a photo of a small mud-brick house in El Salvador)

” To me, poverty is when people are squashed like sardines in small houses, and when they don’t have anything to eat.. but other people do.”

(Under a photo of a crying, dirty, street child in India)

” To me, poverty is when my brother insults me.”

(Under a photo of an electrical pole with cables in Guatemala)

“To me, wealth is to have this sight. Nobody has ever seen such a beautiful sight.”

(Under a photo of a man wearing only a loincloth, asleep on top of a bamboo cart in the middle of a trash dump in Bangladesh)

” To me, this photo represents poverty. A man, who has spent all day pulling his cart, has chosen his cart as a place to rest. He is sleeping under the sun in the dump because he has no house and no where to live.”

(Under a photo of a child pushing a shopping cart in a large Western-style supermarket, Dubai)

” To me, this child is wealth. They can go into this famous and expensive supermarket and get whatever they want, while others can’t even go inside the store.”

Kids can say things so simply. I find myself inspired by this simplicity and clarity.

I’ve been inspired by some other kids lately, too.

Alot of kids..and their parents read this blog. It runs the gamut from an 8th grade class in Arizona to homeschoolers in Nebraska.

It’s hard to have  a blog kids read, because I’ve got to make sure what I’m writing is suitable reading for them. (Although now I just put up a headline at the top that says ” Have your parents read this first! ” and an age minimum if the entry has something that I think might not be suitable for kids.., thanks to Deb S., junior high school teacher in Virginia for suggestion).

But there are some things I really like about having kids read this blog.

For one thing, it helps keep my accountable and on my toes..kids are smart and they don’t beat around the bush if they think something isn’t quite right about whatever I am doing. I like that. Kids help me stay on my path.

Another thing about kids is that they know what the really, big important problems are in the world and quite literally have no fear in saving the world. Unlike adults, who often find even phrases like “saving the world”annoying and intrusive.

The best part about having kids involved in the blog is that I get to hear about what they are doing, and how the blog is affecting them or inspiring them. A lot of the time, kids end up inspiring me just as much as I am inspiring them.

A good example of a group of kids that continue to inspire me are the Girl Scouts of Alabama. These girls sometimes read my blog…and their Girl Scout Leader is a devoted reader, too. (Who knew, when I started out writing the blog that I would have such an wide audience? But then that’s the fun of blog writing..)

So, the Girl Scouts read all about the Ngobe, back when I was in Panama. They loved the stories of me living with a tribe of people in the jungle, and they loved reading about all the dangerous things I did because I didn’t know any better. They watched me grow alot as a person, too!..Being more and more adventurous led me to strengthen some traits I’d been a little weak on before.

This particular troop of Girl Scouts loved the Ngobe so much that they have decided to adopt the Ngobe for “World Thinking Day” on February 22 of this coming year. All because of reading about the Ngobe right here, on truelifeplanet.

The theme this year is ” We can stop the spread of AIDs, malaria, and other diseases”.

Their idea is to talk with people about the relatively unheard of Ngobe indigenous group  and the problems that are facing them. What a great idea! So many of the world’s poor people would have more resources if only those of us in richer countries were more aware. Awareness kills the self-centered gene.  And, by the way..this certainly comes at an appropriate time, as the health of this indigenous group is in crisis, with  97% suffering from malnutrition and other serious, life threatening diseases.

So how many people will they be able to make more aware? Well, if they only found one..that’s one. That’s one more than there was before. Excellent.A miracle. But, knowing them, they will tell the story of the Ngobe and touch/inspire many, many people. Better than excellent. More miracles.

I love the fact that the Girls Scouts exist. I love the fact that there are girls being mentored out there, and because they are growing up confident, they are changing the world. I also really love that the Girl Scouts cross political and religious lines, and are a mix of girls from different backgrounds and beliefs. In a world where people can’t seem to get along ..it’s a good thing to see people–even kids–trying to find commonality instead of focusing exclusively on differences. This is a big theme of my blog–figuring out where to meet all the people I come across on my travels halfway, rather than insisting that they agree with me. (It’s not easy!)

I also heard about Maddie, a Girl Scout in Alabama who has taken the idea of leaving less of an imprint on the planet full steam ahead..by participating in a program in the States called, “Grow A Row”. The idea is to grow a garden, and give over a certain amount to your local foodbank or similiar charity. Grow A Row is an idea whose time has come..when many people in the USA are going to bed hungry at night, don’t have enough to feed their kids, and are turning to churches, misc non profits, and the foodstamp program to supplement their meager diets. You can find out more about this program by going to the link on the right hand side of this page under “America grow a row”.

I find Maddie’s idea inspiring me to take my life –and any future gardening plans–to another level. Here she is, “just a kid”, and she’s already spending alot of her time thinking about people other than her. Alot of people don’t even get around to even beginning to think like that until retirement.

Kids are like that. They push us farther than we thought we could go. They open us up to new possibilities, and sometimes remind us of principles we promised we’d live by at some point but forgot. They help to keep us from falling into the cynical trap and move mountains to show us that, yes, change is possible.

Because of the large kid readership, I’ve decided to add two new features on the blog.

One will be a of sites for kids (you’ll find it on the right hand side of this blog page)..I’ll keep adding as I find things that suit the kids who are reading..I’m trying to keep the focus on volunteering, social justice, and kids that are out there making  a dfference.

The second feature I am adding-which I am very excited about- will be a weekly entry focused on kids I meet in India. It will be interview style, like the trueplanetinterview style I have been doing, but with subject matter that interests–and is suitable–for children. I’m going to title these entries ” Truelifeplanet for kids” and I hope all my young readers will enjoy it.

Thank you for the continued inspiration.

gigi

One thing sure has changed since the start of this trip..I’ve become a lot different about the way I value money….

Back in the States, I was never rich. But I spent money on alot of things that, looking back on it now, I didn’t really need.

That’s all changed drastically as I travel around the world.

It’s not just about making my piddly US dollar last longer–it’s about the changed perspective I now have on what is a useful and valuable use of that dollar.

When I think I want something now, I have to first examine if I really need it; and then, look at what that amount of money would buy for someone less fortunate than myself. It continue to amaze me that many things that I want and decide are necessities turn out not to be …when I consider  3rd world conditions and sensibilities.

Coming  from what is basically a throw-away culture, I have to admit that I’ve thrown money away my whole life.

I was talking to a friend recently who told me that his family never talked about money when he was growing up. He had no idea how much money his parents ever had, or if they even owned their house. They would tell him often that they had no money, but he would see them buy many luxuries.

Moving out and living on his own, he got many credit cards and ended up going deeply into debt. He never talked about his money problems to anyone, because he had learned growing up that it wasn’t something one did. He ended up thinking that you could have no money and still buy whatever you wanted. In the end, he patterned his own spending habits in the same way as his parents, and  recently declared bankruptcy.

I’m not sure my family ever really sat down and talked about money, either. If we did, it wasn’t in any great detail. Perhaps we should have. I’ve never declared bankruptcy, of course–but I have to admit that before this trip, I never really understood the value of money. And I’m 40 years old!

Money, and talking  about money, are big taboos in my culture. Everyone is so mysterious about it. Everyone buys lots of stuff to make it look like they have as much money as possible–and then go into terrible debt.

It’s also not terribly popular to be proud of being frugal. And God forbid you are actually poor or broke! We come up tremendous webs to weave to keep anyone from knowing that we don’t have  a dime! And Western culture likes it that way.

I remember a friend of mine at home, was always terribly frugal. She never bought anything and lived very simply. Worse yet, she talked about it! I remember people that I worked with thought that she shouldn’t talk about it so proudly and that it embarrassed them.

I, too, thought certain luxuries were necessities and kind of looked down on people who didn’t think the same luxuries were important. I, too, was influenced by the idea that stuff brings status. Now, I find myself embarrassed  that I had this point of view.

Traveling the world has changed all of that. It’s not just trying to make my dollar last that counts–it’s where and how it’s being spent.

Now I pride myself on being able to do everything on the cheap. No matter what it is, there’s always a cheaper, better way to do it.

So much of travel today is marketing. We eat it up. We think that we need our vacation in Hawaii, that we need to go to Paris for our honeymoon…and that when we get to these places, we have to have see certain things..It’s a big business, tourism. But I spent two weeks in Paris, for less than 200 usd. (See blog entries from about a week ago if you want to read about how I did it.) That experiment pretty much killed the idea that I when I went to one of the most expensive cities in the world as a tourist, that I had to spend loads of money.

I like to think of the Paris experiment as an experiment in being a traveler in a city, as opposed to being a tourist.  I think tourism can be fatal for the traveler. It kills the desire to experiment, to seek out, to live like a local. It’s makes travel just like being at home.

The whole idea of traveling for the sake of travel gets lost. Travel is not all about extravagance and spending lots of money. It’s often the small moments and events that stay with me long after I have left  a place.

There are times when I’ve been on the road and needed a nice hotel–like when I was walking the Camino and I had to have a bath, just once! Or when I met my boyfriend in Spain and the last two nights we splurged for a beautiful hotel room, knowing we wouldn’t be seeing each other for a long time. Sometimes, comforts are a good thing to have.

But living simply on the road means that I get to live like a local alot of the time, and really see what it’s like for the people in the country I am visiting. It’s so much more interesting, invigorating, and …memorable.

It also exposes me to things that can’t justify my old habits of spending and consuming. I’ve become a nightmare for the US economy…I’m a hesitant consumer !

When I left Panama last time, as I was saying goodbye, I realized how much stuff I had. I looked around at the straw huts, the women in their dirty dresses, the kids in no shoes..and I just starting giving it all away. I realized that I still needed some clothes and things for my own comfort, but they needed what I had so much more than me. When they asked for my underwear..I drew the line! But I still ended up giving them almost everything else.

It is a delicate balance, to find my way between giving everything away and self care. For example, getting ready for India I have spent 70 euros..buying everything to a sleep sheet to hydration mix. But it’s an investment in my health and well being, in what would be a difficult 5 months without a few comforts.

Still, it hits me over and over on the head that I don’t need much. I keep thinking that I do..and then the harsh reality of the 3rd world pulls me back towards frugality and simple living.

Since I gave most of my possessions away before I left on this trip, when I go home I’ll be continuing to apply living simply to my life back in the States. I’m kind of excited about that. It means that life at home will be a become somewhat of an adventure, too.

One thing I am thinking alot about is how most people in the world do not have enough to eat. It makes me look at producing my own food in a totally different way–now, it seems like more of a necessity, rather than just a hobby. So many communities I have met on this trip either did not own land to farm or had land which barely produced enough to keep them above poverty level. Many people are using age-old farming techniques that destroy the land and cannot keep up with their needs.

Now, I look at having  a backyard garden in  a whole new light. It’s a necessity. Even If I grow more than I can eat, there are so many people who need food in the community where I live.

Another thing that has really affected me is the beef cattle industry and it’s environmental and social impact on the globe. It’s easy to eat beef back at home, where I don’t have to actually see the conditions of the animals. When I don’t have to actually see how the raising of cattle has stolen the lands of indigenous people, leaving them with very little land to farm, and contributing more to malnutrition and world hunger. When I go buy my ground beef at the supermarket, I never have to even consider any of these things–and no one wants me to.

People don’t like to have things like this pointed out to them. We like our steak. But a single steak now has a price tag that I cannot afford. Not only is the cost of meat expensive–both for me and for the problems it creates for the poor– it is not an efficient source of protein, either.

I also find myself attracted to the Voluntary Simplicity movement–a movement that is growing larger and larger in the USA. The idea of living simply so that others may simply live is no longer a trite saying on a bumpersticker for me. It’s a necessary reality.

The more I use, the less there is for those who need it. Every single thing I buy impacts someone somewhere else. Every dollar I spend could go to end poverty, world hunger, education, literacy…the list goes on and on.

Those are pretty heavy hitting words, but they are true.

This has been an unexpected lesson, something that once again, I knew..but I did not know before.

I’m looking forward to India, the ultimate experience in living in a culture where everything–positively everything–is recycled. I plan on buying my souvenirs only from cooperatives, or buying things that are only made from recycled materials.

Maybe when I get home, I will blow up a big photo of trash pickers in India, and put it on the kitchen wall above the recycling bins.

Above it it will say..” Before you throw it away, can you think of anything else you could do with it?”

In living out of a backpack and learning how to live frugally, I’ve ended up joining the Voluntary Simplicity Movement and become a Queen of Green. Who would have guessed?

gigi

Oh..and a few good sites to check out if you like the idea of Voluntary Simplicity, living cheaply and well, and living in a way that has the least imprint on the Earth are (and these are just a few of my faves) on the right hand side of this blog, under “Lesson Your Imprint On The Planet”

and there’s also a great link to traveling green, on the right hand side of this blog page under “Resources for women travelers”.

 Not appropriate for readers under the age of 13. Please have your parents read first, thanks.

This interview took place in Paris, France on August 30th, 2009, at a hair salon being run out of a kitchen in a sixth floor apartment in a neighborhood on the edge of Paris…

I met Mea during a political protest march through the Latin Quarter of Paris. The march was a protest organized by illegal immigrants, and Mea was one of the participants.

Mea interested me because she had worked in the sex trade in Europe and had recently managed to leave this kind of work. She was part of a group of women who help each other financially and emotionally so that they can stop working as prostitutes and get income in other ways.

We arranged that I could interview her for this blog if I agreed to get a haircut! As she was just learning to cut hair. I showed up at a apartment at the specified time, and after meeting her sister in law and many children, we went into the apartment, which was full of clients waiting or getting their hair cut. Everyone was from Africa but me.

I was surprisingly calm about being there-in spite of being in some ones’ home whom I did not know-because I was accompanied by two students who had been at the march and were going to help translate from french into English.

An amazing afternoon was had by all. I got this interview, and I got..the shortest haircut of my life. I had none left by the time she was done.!

Mea is not her real name, and all details of location and so on have been left out to protect her and her work.

Thanks for the help of Geoff  E. and Michelle C., without which this interview would not have been possible.

Me: Let’s start off with who you are, your name, how old you are..?

Mea: You can call me Mea, but that is not my real name. I don’t know how old I am..I think..maybe..25 years old.

Me: Can you tell me where you are from and how you came to live in Paris?

Mea: I am from the Ivory Coast, but I left there and lived in Senegal when I was a child. So, I am from Senegal, now! (laughs)

Me: And how did you come to live in Paris?

Mea: Well..I wanted to go to Europe. We had..nothing..in Senegal. My parents are dead, they got sick and died. So it was me and my sisters and my brother. I was working in Senegal. I was a sex worker. I didn’t like the work, but it paid and we ate. I didn’t like the work…but alot of people came over to Senegal, and they wanted women.

I got tired of that life. So we decided to save the money and send me and my sister to Spain. You could pay the guy and they would take you over on a boat.

It was..dangerous. But, we thought we could make enough money to live better, maybe send my brother to school.

Me: So you went to Spain on a boat? What kind of boat? What was it like, the journey?

Mea: It was very expensive, first of all. My sister and I had to work alot to pay for the passage, and  even my little brother worked, selling candy. Then after we paid them, they said at the last minute that we hadn’t paid enough money. But we had paid enough, that was untrue.

So they said if we had sex with them, they would let us go on the boat. They were very cruel and mean men. They were very cruel to my sister and I, doing many things to us for many days. We had no choice. We could not look at each other afterwards.

The boat was very small. Almost..a raft. I mean to say..it was a boat, but not a very nice boat. It had way to many people on it.

We were very tired and we were badly beaten when we got on the boat. My little sister was sick, too.

Me: What else do you remember?

Mea: It was night when we got on the boat. It was still dark. None of us knew what to do… we were very quiet, very quiet.

I remember that there was only a little bit of water. There was supposed to be more water for us, but we said nothing.

The journey took a long time. Too long and..

People got sick and some died. My little sister died, too.

Me:What happened when she died?

Mea: Well..they put her over the side into the sea. It was very hard for me. Other people, too. Everyone was very scared, all we could see was ocean and we were very frightened.

You finally arrived in Spain. Let’s talk about what happened once you got there..

Mea: We got there in the night time. I was so hungry, so thirsty, so tired. But I had been promised  a job and the guy on the boat took me to meet  a  man who was supposed to give me this job working in the field. It was olives, they had said.

But when I got there, the two men raped me again and put me in a little room, where they kept me for several days.

I knew then that there was no job picking olives, that it was a lie.

I stayed in Spain, working in the room, with whatever men they brought there, for over two  months.  I tried to get away several times but it was impossible, everyone helped them bring me back. I got beaten everytime I left.

They came one day and told me that I had to pay off the rest of my passage on the boat. I did not argue, because I did not want them to beat me or worse.  They brought me alot of very pretty clothes and they told me that I would be goign to Amsterdam to work there.

Me: Amsterdam? What was that like?

Mea: It was better in some ways than where I had been before, but I had to work all day and all night. I hardly slept, because the boss wanted a certain amount of money every day and I had to pay him. The clients there..they wanted everything , they wanted me to do everything…things we did not do in Senegal. I felt very..bad about myself there.

But he did give me some clothes and I did manage to send money home one time.  Also, it was ..shocking to me..how much money the men had. they had so much money! And we had nothing in Senegal.

But, how did you end up in Paris?

Mea: I met a man, a nice man..he asked me to come to Paris, and he paid my boss for me. I was going to come and live with him. I was so happy! He was..not always nice to me, but it was better than the street. He was very violent sometimes.

But I learned English when I lived with him, so now I speak English!

Then  when I came here, he became very strange and one day he told me I had to leave. I do not know what happened. He would not let me leave with anything but some clothes.

I had no money, no papers, no nothing.

So I…went back to working the streets.

You went back to working as a prostitute?

Mea: Yes..I ..did not know anyone. I knew nothing. I had to make some money. I had to pay for  a room to stay in. I tried to go where there were English speaking tourists, since I spoke some English.

I was doing that work, for about one year, when I started to get to know more of the other women working.

Did you have a lot in common with the other sex workers?

Mea: Yes..I did. there were alot of women who had come over, like me. There were alot of women from Africa, from Senegal, from the Ivory Coast, from North Africa. We had all been bought and sold at some point.

When did you decide to leave sex work?

Mea: When I saw myself one day in a store window..and I didn’t recognize myself. I looked so old and tired, so unhappy. I thought, there has to be something else I can do.

I started by giving condoms out to the other workers, and by telling them that I was going to rent a nice apartment and that they could come and visit me there. If they..ever wanted to talk.

I worked for another year, and I found a place to rent with some friends..good people. It was through them that I met my (common law) husband!

You met your husband while you were still working?

Mea: Well, yes, I did! But he didn’t know me, really. Then he found out what I was doing for work, and he said to me that if I wanted to find other work, he would help me. We were friends then. And..he knew I would never do that kind of work, if I could have done something else.

Tell me about your husband.

Mea: He is from Senegal, too. he is a very kind person, works hard to help others..he is the one who got me interested in rights.

Rights?

Mea: Yes…my rights. Because I am a person. That I have rights as a person.  I did not know what he was talking about at first…but then when I understood it…I felt so good after talking to him, I felt hope. That this..was for me..not just other people. That I was important. I really believed this, for the first time. It was not a story, it was..true.

I felt very..bad about myself, up until then. The work, it was hurting me.

So I left my work and he helped me get a job cleaning  a office.

Are you cleaning offices now?

Mea: (laughs)..No, I wasn’t very good at it! I had never been very good at that kind of work. But now I am working here (looks around and gestures at hair salon) I am very good with hair.

Are you doing any other kind of work?

Mea: Yes. My main work, for which I am not paid, is to work with the African women that come here or are brought here to be sex workers. I help them, I listen to them, I give them what they need. I help them leave the work, too. This makes my sun shine.

It is very hard work..I sometimes work at night, on the street..and sometimes they come to my apartment. I had a girl there this past week, the man wanted to have sex with her and another girl, and he gave them drugs. Then he didn’t pay them afterwards, got violent. She came to my apartment, very sick..

Do most of the women you work with have terrible stories to tell? Or, are some happy with the work and the money?

Mea: I have never met a woman who wanted to be doing that kind of work. Maybe they would do it for the money for a little while and be happy, but then something bad happens and they are frightened. It’s very dangerous work.

What would you say if someone told you that there is nothing wrong with prostitution or with bringing over women from other countries for men here to have sex with? I have heard people validate the sex trade saying it gives women income…what do you think?

Mea: That is all untrue. I mean, it is not true that it is good to have women doing this work, because if you asked them, they would rather be doing anything else. Also, they are brought here against their will sometimes and the men who have sex with them, they don’t know that. Maybe it does give women income..but if my country was a country where I could work and have decent work, I would be there right now. Not here.

Also, the women who do the work..they are in danger. Everyday. And..many are beaten or raped or worse. Some have stories like mine.

I want people to realize that they need to help us women in our countries make money…give us things we can do to make money so we can survive, and not have to do this kind of work.

Maybe people say these things because they have never done this kind of work, and they are just looking at it from their side of things..they want sex workers but they don’t want to think about us as people, that we have rights.

Sex work is no life.  It is death. It destroys the woman.

You’ve also been very involved with the rights of illegal immigrants in France. Let’s talk about that.

Mea: yes, I have been involved in that since I met my husband, although I had heard about it before I left the sex work. I heard about it the first time through people who would come and talk to us, right there on the street, when we were working. These people talked to us like people! I liked that. They never wanted anything…

I listened to them talk and I went to a meeting, and then by the time I met my husband , we had this in common. That we both were working for the rights of illegal immigrants here in the country.

Why do you think the rights of illegal immigrants are important?

Mea: (laughs) What a question! I think the answer is..how can they not be? How can they not treat us as people? Yet that is what they do, everyday. We live in a state of fear.

There are many people who are so afraid they will get deported that they don’t go anywhere. They are so scared. People die or go missing after they get sent home.

But we do alot of jobs they wouldn’t do..and we are always having to come up with ways to earn money, to live, to eat.

It is a tiring life.

What would you want to tell the  people of the world, if you could only tell them one thing?

Mea: I am your sister. Love me, love your brother–that is enough.

Well said, Mea.

Mea helps over 40 women a week in Paris who are forced into a life of prostitution due to either coercion or economics. Yet, if they could get legal work–and were allowed , even temporarily, to reside in France–they would not be doing this kind of work.

Please, consider this the next time you come across someone in your country who is residing there illegally.

gg

In planning my trip to Calcutta. one thing I’m really aware of is how different I feel about going there than I did when it was just an idea or a dream.

I can’t even believe how different I am now than I was a year ago.

A year ago I was nervous and scared and not all that self reliant.

Back at home, I had been an interesting person, a creative person, and perhaps an independent thinker, but I wasn’t anything like the way I am now.

I know myself better now. I know the world better now, too. I know about parts and peoples of the world that before I had only heard about.

I know how to make a canoe, hike up a mountain, butcher a large animal, give myself stitches, be still when I see a large snake. I know what it is like to see someone die, to see someone give birth, to see someone starve, to see someone get their first pair of shoes.

I’m now so much more self reliant and aware of the world that I look back at my old life in the USA and wonder who was that living that half-life?

Because that’s what it was–a half-life. I had had big dreams but I never really followed them.

In spite of being from the USA, where supposedly anything is possible for one’s life, where no dream is too big, where if one wants something they can usually work hard to achieve it–I never really felt that anything was possible for me. There were so many people telling me that I couldn’t do certain things (or the rules and way in which to do them if I tried), that it became second nature to me to accept limits instead of breaking boundaries.

I think one’s community of family, friends, and relationships play a big role in this, too. People mean well, but truthfully..they just want us to want what they want. Then it’s easier for everyone.Everyone means well, but in the end..it seems to me people often end up living a life that has very little to do with who they are.

This mindset mixed with certain cultural expectations of how things are supposed to be in one’s life left me–and my desires, dreams and goals –unreachable. There is a whole status quo, which has certain expectations one has to meet about pretty much everything in your life. The culture tells you how to live.

Culture tells everyone, all over the planet, what to do and when to do it-even how to do it.

One thing I’ve picked up on from travel is that cultural expectations differ from one group of people to the next. As I’ve visited each place, my own expectations of what is deemed culturally appropriate have changed, too.

It makes the expectations of my own culture suddenly seem extremely arbitrary and silly. I don’t care about meeting the status quo in my own country anymore, because it makes no sense to me.

Another big change is that I have become more of a leader. I’m tackling big projects, having bigger ideas, and deciding that yes, I can. So much different than the main question I was asking myself when I left, which was, “Can I?”.

About a year and half ago, I was talking to a close friend, and they told me that they were worried about me because “trying to do too much.” I was doing alot of different things at the time, and probably not all of them particularly well. Some of the things I was doing I wanted to do, and other things were just things I thought I should be doing.

A whole culture has been built up around the “doing too much” disease. There are books for “women who do to much” and retreats for “families who do too much”. It’s an industry!

I don’t think it is a question of doing too much, but more of a question of who gets to define what you do and how you are doing it.

Generally speaking, it isn’t you who gets to decide how your life goes. That’s because the cultural expectations are entirely set up towards two goals: money and fame. It’s all about who has the most toys in the end.

What a sad future for young people to look forward to. Have you noticed that young kids, when asked what job they want, are now choosing based on the salary, not on a dream? Not on any particular talent? Not on any particular principles, except the making of money? And who can blame them? They are just following the models they have around them–us.

Traveling to some of the places I have this past year has drastically changed my perception of what is necessary to have a life of value. I find myself more and more interested in living a life that has less impact on the planet, and less and less interested in making money and being self important. Simple living and service have become my new goals.

I’m not sure money making or fame were ever my goals in the past. But they certainly had something to do with the script I wrote out for myself of how my life was going to be and what would make me happy.

I’m redefining who I am through the experiences I have on this trip. ..and one thing I have changed is what my motivators are to have a happy life, a full life, a passionate life.

And this new script is being written by and for a very confident woman.

I think this newfound confidence and can-do attitude comes from having to make decisions-hundreds of them-every single day, about everything. Where to eat. What to eat. Where to sleep. Take a bus. Take a train. Walk. Kill a scorpion. Paddle a canoe…it’s endless.

Travel, especially traveling alone as a woman, is literally forcing me to be responsible for every single thing I do. There are no rules, which I can rely upon and lean on.

I’m making it all up as I go along.

Part of me is concerned about what it will be like to go home again.

I’ll be going home for about 5 weeks after India–before heading back down to Panama. I’ve already visited once, and that was…odd. I was only there for about a week and a half, and I had barely dealt with getting to have hot showers and going to the supermarket. I never had time to deal with the people in my life and how the changes I had been through would be received by them.

And back then, I thought I had changed alot! But now, even the woman I was back then I don’t really recognize. I’ve changed even more, and I would imagine after the next five months in India, I’ll be even more changed.

I think it is this aspect of going home that I find the most troublesome.

Maybe you’ve never noticed this, but people in our lives like us to pretty much stay the same. They generally don’t mind minor changes, as long as they get to stay the same and treat us as they always have. And..it’s not so much that I mind that people don’t want me to really change..it’s that I already have changed.

I feel vital… excited..passionate. I feel like I have, in front of me, a very clear path to walk on–for the first time in my life.

I’m setting up some very clear goals to achieve when I return home, all based around the wonderful decision to devote my life to service. It’s funny how when our lives become not about us anymore, that everything is is so suddenly simple. In fact, devoting my life to the service of people who need it most has so not only simplified my life, it’s taken out any obstacles that were in the way of me doing  anything I put my mind to.

This is a far cry from the woman I was when I left. I was always a people pleaser. And in a way, I still am. I mean, I want people to be content and happy…

But now, I’m more concerned about people and things that deserve my time and concern.

I was a pretty self centered person before I left on this trip–and frankly, so were most people I knew. People are convinced that their tiny concerns are important–when actually they aren’t at all. It took some serious hardships in the third world for me to understand that.

What does deserve my attention are those people and problems that I find myself suddenly passionate about. Things like human rights, hunger, sustainable agriculture..and more.

I find myself awake for the first time in my life…and I never want to live that half-life of my past again.

It’s been a painful journey, in some ways, to get to where I am today. But it’s been so worth it—I’ve had a very long year of self reflection and tests that pushed me to places I never thought I would go. I’ve been so sick I couldn’t stand up, forcing me to rely on strangers. I’ve been so overwhelmed at the sight of extreme poverty that I couldn’t sleep. I’ve eaten food that was..inedible..in my culture. I’ve been confronted, head on, about everything I believed about myself, humanity, good, bad, right, wrong… So many more challenges come to mind… and, I’m sure I have more challenges and opportunities for growth ahead..

There have so many times I wanted to go home. So many times I was lonely. So many times that I wanted the familiar. So many times that I thought I was going to go over the edge.

And when I finally did go over the edge, it turned out to not be scary at all…but liberating.

I will remind myself of this in the coming months!

gigi

gigi

It’s been a dream of mine–for some unexplained reason–to go and live in Calcutta, India and work with the Sisters of Charity with the homeless, poor, sick, and dying people of that city.

I never really could bring myself to do it, somehow. There was always life to be led, and that never really included running off to India for months at a time.

Finally, it’s going to happen.

I’m on a plane a week from today, heading to Calcutta for five months.

Going to Calcutta represents a shift in my life-and I haven’t even gotten there yet.

I think I didn’t make the effort to go before because I was incredibly superficial and I also was worried about what other people thought. (Funny how these two generally go together!)

Alot of people in my life were worried about disease, and that I would get something incurable. There’s alot of truth to this, because working with the Sisters, you are exposed to many diseases that you would have less likelihood of being exposed to in the Western world. Some examples are tuberculosis and  HIV/AIDS.

I don’t have alot of fear about getting sick. I think if I do, then I do. All I can do is try to prepare for it and try to be prepared so that the likelihood of that happening is a whole lot less.

Maybe this more casual attitude comes from having already been on the road for a year…..

During the past year, I’ve lived in places that were off the beaten path, where disease and illness were part of everyday life. I haven’t been immune to illness either–I’ve had malaria, dengue fever, dysentry, giardia, parasites, lice…

When I write out that list, it does kind of make me stop and smile to myself and think that perhaps I am totally insane.

But that’s paired with the fact that I really enjoy helping people who need the help most–and these people tend to live in terrible conditions. It’s just part of the package.

And I think that I am attracted to more extreme situations because they teach me more about myself and it’s an opportunity for growth–instant growth. When you’re in a jungle, and you have no clean drinking water and you’re down to your last jar of peanut butter, and you’re surrounded by little kids who are hungry, you gain more in compassion and humility than you can imagine. And while the risks you take in that moment become increasingly more and more irrelevant, you also become more and more wise, resourceful, and self reliant.

That said, it pays off to prepare and prevent as many things that have the potential to make me sick.

So, at the moment I’m hanging out at a friend’s house in France, reading up other’s experiences of volunteering and living in Calcutta. Most of the stuff I’ve found online have been glowing reports of the experience. But they’ve also increased the size of my med kit by 3x, and had me running around the nearby village trying to find everything from tea tree oil to rehydration mix to rubber gloves. Not easy in a tiny village in France!

While I’m in Calcutta, I won’t just be volunteering–Calcutta a center of intellectualism in India. There are more books written and read there than perhaps any other place in India. So, I plan on learning Bengali and participating in as many of the cultural experiences as my schedule and state of mind will allow.

And instead of writing out lots of individual entries based on notes, I’ve decided instead to write all of my journal entries down on the blog. This seems like the best way to look back at the end and see how I have grown from the experience, and it also keeps it much more raw and immediate for my readers.

Five months in Calcutta. I can’t believe this dream of mine is about to come true.

gigi