tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19026598503792118702024-03-05T11:11:34.502-08:00Gypsy SoulChristine Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13699178365079676321noreply@blogger.comBlogger49125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1902659850379211870.post-42411170355817184222014-07-22T10:57:00.002-07:002014-07-22T10:57:49.846-07:00Looking Back<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Christine Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13699178365079676321noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1902659850379211870.post-12811887621101015022014-07-20T15:42:00.000-07:002014-07-20T15:43:51.856-07:00Saying Goodbye One month ago, I arrived in Ghana at night, the dark making it difficult to get my bearings or really understand where I was. Tonight, I fly again at night, stealing away while everyone is sleeping. I remember telling myself as I walked across the tarmac that first night, that the next time I saw this spot, I would be feeling sad and nostalgic. I was mostly telling myself that to calm my nerves, having just flown into Accra alone. It helped to think that soon, it would all feel familiar. In the end, though, I was right. I knew I would be.<br />
On one of my last nights here, a Ghanaian asked me, "What did you dislike about Ghana, and what did you like about Ghana?" The answer to the first question may not come as a surprise: I was never able to figure out what time anything was happening, or whether it was even happening at all. I think I would need a lifetime to get used to Ghana time. For the second, there are many answers, but one comes easily. It's the girls I'll miss seeing every morning at school. I loved their questions and their shouts of "Madam! Madam!" I loved that they took naps during breaks, because that's just what I would have done if I were them. I loved that they were willing to do jumping jacks to wake back up before lessons, and I loved it even more when the jumping jacks just turned into dancing.<br />
When any volunteer leaves, they sing a terribly depressing song with the line, "My friends are going away/ I have nobody to comfort my soul/ Goodbye, Goodbye." As if I wasn't already sad enough. I'll never forget when they ran out of the classroom to wave goodbye as I got in the taxi. True, they were following the teacher who had one last question for me about their exam, but I like to think that they would have done it anyway.<br />
In other words, there are many things I'm taking away from Ghana. Some are memories, and some are weighing down my backpack so heavily that I'm really starting to dread the commute home. If things get too heavy, I'll just take a leaf out of Ghana's books and start selling the contents of my bag market-style on the streets of New York. Then it'll be home again, for a long nap in honor of my sleepy students.Christine Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13699178365079676321noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1902659850379211870.post-18796378750729759152014-07-16T11:32:00.004-07:002014-07-16T11:32:48.016-07:00The Best Laid Plans It was bound to happen sooner or later. I was hoping for later, but you can't choose when you want to be sick. These past three days have proven to me yet again that sometimes, plans just aren't going to work out the way you thought they would. The timing was extra unfortunate since I was supposed to say goodbye to my class yesterday, and I was supposed to leave for Mole National Park today. Instead, I've been lying in bed attempting to eat and watching an IV drip, drip, drip, drip... Listening to the bus pull away without me this morning was definitely not one of the highlights of my trip.<br />
After receiving some stellar care from my host families, I'm on the mend and feeling more like myself. I am also more than determined to make it to Mole tomorrow to meet up with the group and see my fair share of elephants and baboons. Until then, I'll just keep lying around. Since they took my IV out, I'll have to watch something else. Perhaps the fan will do.Christine Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13699178365079676321noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1902659850379211870.post-25147747649209184332014-07-10T05:50:00.000-07:002014-07-10T05:50:04.702-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Monkey Sanctuary</div>
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Kintampo Waterfalls</div>
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Playing Games</div>
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The Observers</div>
<br />Christine Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13699178365079676321noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1902659850379211870.post-23902300611075455542014-07-08T10:28:00.002-07:002014-07-08T10:32:34.104-07:00"It's Ghana, a little bit of pressure" Today, in the spirit of the World Cup, we went to the village to play a soccer game, Ghanaians against foreigners. I did what I do best and cheered from the sides. In between cheering, I worked on a grant application for the school, never mind that I've never actually written one before. I'm a native English speaker and a teacher, so I was handed the documents and told to write. It's strikingly similar to last Thursday, when I was told at 3:00 pm that I would be running a combined computer and classroom management course for the teachers of the school the following morning, plus every remaining Friday. It has me seriously doubting the phrase, "It's Ghana, no pressure."<br />
As I held the laptop in my lap, surrounded by children peering over my shoulders while I typed, I worried about what the dust was doing to the computer. Whatever it was doing, it couldn't have been good. After a while, I lost interest in the game and wandered into an abandoned classroom with an actual table on which to set the laptop and a seat on which to sit. I was relieved to find out later that the game ended in a draw. At least there won't be any incessant gloating from either side to interrupt my typing.Christine Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13699178365079676321noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1902659850379211870.post-77344865377492083622014-07-02T06:44:00.001-07:002014-07-02T06:44:07.381-07:00The Unexpected I never thought I'd sit on a crocodile, but that's what vacations are for, getting you to do things that you never expected to do. It sure sounded dangerous at first, but he was pretty relaxed about the whole situation, so I followed his cues.<br />
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After bidding my new friend good-bye, I did something else I never imagined doing, and walked a few feet into Burkina Faso with no documentation. They are surprisingly relaxed at the border, so after miming and using a few French words to explain what we wanted to do, they smiled and let us walk past the gates. A friendly argument ensued when we tried to take photos with the Burkina Faso sign, but the problem was solved by the photographer standing on the Ghana side of the border and taking pictures from there. No harm done.</div>
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The most refreshing time of the day was sitting in the hills overlooking the rocky landscape. The rest of the day was spent gulping water, wiping sweat from our foreheads, and feeling quite faint, but these few minutes were complete paradise. </div>
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As we headed back to the bus, we got to talk to some of the most cheerful children I've ever met, and they didn't seem to mind the heat at all. They were just excited to make faces and pose for the camera, and I was happy to oblige. If there's anything I should take home with me, it's that smile right there on the left.</div>
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<br />Christine Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13699178365079676321noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1902659850379211870.post-64335730165932588072014-06-30T12:37:00.001-07:002014-07-03T07:07:05.279-07:00What you miss when it's gone I realize that I've only been in Ghana for one week, but I joined a conversation among volunteers who have been here for weeks or months and have weeks or months to go. We were talking about what we're going to do when we get home, and the conversation went a little something like this:<br />
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"I'm going to brush my teeth in a sink."<br />
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"I'm going to stand in the shower and actually drink the water."<br />
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"I'm going to keep my feet and nails clean for more than ten minutes."<br />
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"I'm going to get a manicure."<br />
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"I'm going to sit in front of the washing machine and watch as my clothes wash themselves."<br />
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"I'm going to get a manicure <i>while</i> I sit in front of the washing machine and watch as my clothes wash themselves."<br />
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In other words, we're not suffering. We've just noticed the things that we used to take for granted. For example, sinks.Christine Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13699178365079676321noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1902659850379211870.post-34364770269904398772014-06-27T11:40:00.003-07:002014-07-03T07:09:36.528-07:00Settling In The hardest thing to adjust to here is the difference between Ghana time and New York time. In New York, 7:30 means 7:30. In Ghana, 7:30 means 8:30, or maybe 7:20, or maybe 9:00. Just be ready. Or don't be ready. It's your choice, because, "It's Ghana, no pressure." I went immediately from schedules and to-do lists to sitting in a chair in the afternoons with nothing to do for hours on end. It was a little unsettling at first, but I'm pretty good at it.<br />
This week I taught a science lesson about the two seasons in Ghana. Apparently, we're in the one where the weather "gets pleasant." When I walk through the markets or sit somewhere without a fan, I'm not so sure. During the day at school, there is usually a lovely breeze when you open all the shutters and doors. Sometimes a chicken walks into the room through that open door, but it walks back out soon enough, no harm done.<br />
In school, I've been teaching English, math, writing, and science. The girls don't have textbooks, so they do a lot of note-taking. They don't always have notebooks either, so the volunteers try to buy some to donate, along with pencils, erasers, and markers. They are so grateful to receive them, and it's taught me that I waste to much and take too much for granted. I've never before been concerned about whether or not I would have a pencil for school, but so many do. Even so, they are very giving, and will squish into one bench so they can give me their chair.<br />
During breaks, they tried to teach me a clapping game that I can now participate in, but I have no clue who is winning. I can't figure out how it's scored, but I clap and trust that they'll tell me when I'm out. I take pictures of them, and then I have many girls around me asking me to "snap a picture" of them. I give a lot of high fives and hold a lot of hands too, so I'm never alone.<br />
Today was two of the volunteers' last day at the school, so there were many good-byes and a lot of raucous dancing. Some of these girls could be professional drummers, and I'm surprised the desks are still standing after the beating they took. I did see one girl pounding nails back into a desk with a rock, so they probably won't last forever.<br />
It's hard to believe that one week is done. I can now hail a taxi to town and more importantly, get one back to the house. I can greet people in Dagbani, and I can sit with my own thoughts for hours at a time. It's not always easy, but it's a start, and I have plenty of time to perfect these skills in the weeks to come!Christine Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13699178365079676321noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1902659850379211870.post-84683095378719290402014-06-23T09:38:00.006-07:002014-06-23T09:38:58.612-07:00Taste of Tamale<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Christine Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13699178365079676321noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1902659850379211870.post-45298591756792816522014-06-23T06:30:00.001-07:002014-06-23T06:30:41.163-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Christine Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13699178365079676321noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1902659850379211870.post-20178406428742769132014-06-23T06:13:00.001-07:002014-06-23T09:47:03.294-07:00The Beginning When I think about traveling, what comes to mind most is the
people, not the places. Take for instance the girl I met on the plane
from Newark to Lisbon. When she heard that I had a 12-hour layover in
Portugal before flying to Ghana, she said, "My mom and I can show you
around the city if you want," which is precisely what they did. They
brought me to a monastery where I saw the final resting place of Vasco da Gama, several lookout points where I could see the whole city, and a famous custard tart
cafe that has long lines even at nine in the morning. While we were eating, the mother's old colleagues from the
Indonesian Embassy happened to walk by, and they joined our table.
Before I knew it, we were cracking jokes with an Indonesian ambassador
over cafe au laits. When they said good-bye at the tram that would take
me back to the airport, there were hugs received, emails exchanged, and kind
reminders given to take my malaria medicine in Ghana. All because of a
lucky seat assignment.<br />
In Ghana, I've received much the
same greeting. I've lost track of how many people have smiled and waved
at me. I've been welcomed into people's homes, and I feel like I've
known them my entire life. Today, I traveled to several different
schools, and the children in each classroom sang a song to welcome me.
When I sat down, the girl next to me touched my hair and said, "Madam, I
want you to be my best friend." I think I can manage that.<br />
Then in a
small village, we met the chief, and I carried one of his descendants
around, strapped to my back with a colorful, beautifully patterned cloth.
I am looking forward to visiting an orphanage this afternoon, but I
must admit that I am sitting in an internet cafe with time ticking,
people waiting, and pictures not loading. So until next time, just know that I am happy, and I
can't ask for anything more than that.<br />
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<br />Christine Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13699178365079676321noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1902659850379211870.post-53535261964948440922014-06-19T18:24:00.000-07:002014-06-19T18:29:16.038-07:00Ghana Bound There's never a good reason to skip getting a Billy's Bakery cupcake, and knowing that you're going to be in Ghana for four weeks really gets you thinking. That's why I found myself on 9th Avenue today, buying one cupcake for the moment and one for the road. It was my way of saying farewell to the city, even if it's only for a short while.<br />
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For one month, I will be volunteering at a school for girls in Tamale, Ghana. I don't know yet what I'll be teaching, but that has never stopped me before! Besides, it never hurts to receive more practice in the art of spur-of-the-moment lessons. All I know at this point is that I am one lucky teacher, and I will figure out the specifics soon enough.<br />
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Earlier this week, Ghana flashed across everyone's radar when they played against the United States during the World Cup. Perhaps I need to be more patriotic, but I was kind of hoping Ghana would win. I was planning on joining their celebrations and buying Ghana-themed sports memorabilia to add to my basically nonexistent sports memorabilia collection. My new plan is to pretend I'm Canadian.<br />
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In any case, I am thrilled to be going. One of my favorite things is meeting kids from around the world and finding out that they are basically the same, no matter their background. It's why I'm willing to give up Billy's cupcakes for four weeks, and that's really saying something. Christine Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13699178365079676321noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1902659850379211870.post-33875951495956800662013-07-14T10:12:00.000-07:002013-07-14T10:12:40.289-07:00Farewells
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<br />
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was going to write
more. I had good intentions, but I suppose living got in the way of writing. I
thought I’d write about the time when I watched a truck being creatively pulled
from a ditch, and the dozen men gesturing wildly, each positive that he was
directing the proceedings. I thought maybe I’d write about the one room
schoolhouse and the dusty children I met there, because they are not people
I’ll quickly forget. I thought perhaps I’d write about my English students or
even the unlucky lizard I ran over with my scooter. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe I can still write these
things, but it will be from a new home. Tomorrow, I leave Vientiane to move
back to the States, and my feelings could not possibly be more mixed. I am
excited for what comes next, but I know how I behave when I leave a place I’ve
grown to love. For a while, my days will consist of living partially in the
present and partially in the Indochina Time zone, having thoughts such as,
“Joma Café is opening in 20 minutes. I could really go for one of their mango
shakes.” Or possibly, “My students just finished evening classes. I hope
they’re not asking their new teacher to go to the bathroom too often to get out
of class, because they really need to stop doing that.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So if I see you in the near
future and I don’t seem quite with it, it’s probably because I’m not. I suppose
I could blame it on the jetlag, but I know that won’t be entirely true. Trying
to live in one hemisphere while picturing a day in the other is exhausting
work, but I’m not going to say no to a few extra naps here and there, just in
case.</div>
<!--EndFragment-->Christine Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13699178365079676321noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1902659850379211870.post-48775124873840001582013-06-10T09:13:00.000-07:002013-06-10T09:20:42.256-07:00Elephants: Round Two<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m
one of the luckiest girls in the world. I never dreamed that within a year, I
would be reunited with Boonme. Not only were we reunited, but I was able to
introduce her to my family. I’m not so sure she really cares, being an elephant
and all, but she played her part nicely. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Once
again, I was able to shimmy up her side and lazily meander through the jungle.
I could take part in the ant-avoidance dance, and I could practice my Thai. The
difference was that this time, I could call out to my parents and my sister,
relaxing just yards away on their own elephants. Not to put words in their
mouths, but if I could put words in their mouths for a second, I'd say they were,
“Wow… This is…” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In
addition to riding elephants, we had the opportunity to experience a national
holiday that puts other national holidays to shame. The Thai New Year is a
chance for people to make a fresh start, but what it really consists of is the
entire country shutting down and throwing water at each other. It took us a
couple of hours to travel a distance that normally would have taken twenty
minutes, because traffic was crawling. The backs of pickup trucks were packed
with barrels of water and people holding super soakers aimed at other vehicles.
People sometimes even abandoned the cars and ran down the middle of the street
in order to hit their target. My main thought throughout this experience was,
“How can I start this in the United States without being arrested for
disturbing the peace?” Also, I occasionally thought, “This would be a terrible
time for your windshield wipers to stop working.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Bangkok
seemed tame after these experiences, and I am sure “tame” is a word rarely used
with this city. While I would love to post pictures of my favorite part,
helping my sister pick out her wedding dress, I am aware that this would mean
immediate dismissal from her bridal party. And from the family in general. But
let me just say, her dress is beautiful. And that’s my cue to stop.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2D2BjVg7h0rpr0_HQG4D6pQ7LJREF0yN9P5zd3Nw5H71afqFG81HgSygiTLuKmnlCPADEbiIbihXfA-lunVAOmOE5BLFgQlJ53DkULbdG7L1XD5cmdvOv3z9-7LEWahMRKISeeJ9DIkiv/s1600/IMG_4453.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2D2BjVg7h0rpr0_HQG4D6pQ7LJREF0yN9P5zd3Nw5H71afqFG81HgSygiTLuKmnlCPADEbiIbihXfA-lunVAOmOE5BLFgQlJ53DkULbdG7L1XD5cmdvOv3z9-7LEWahMRKISeeJ9DIkiv/s400/IMG_4453.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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Pure chaos, but really fun chaos</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaeJ6atL1K0TbqrcNY9uhU1dTVLADEeGH32iy-X33KE0VZM7sohCwXcBETXcV9AkUpewRrhjC3Wo6mdBcrA82oYa3qhvpFjlzwR2xhuGvYwuyHsxdKYBfN9XPtPx7wfMKq-Nmkqiv3EbSz/s1600/IMG_4456.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaeJ6atL1K0TbqrcNY9uhU1dTVLADEeGH32iy-X33KE0VZM7sohCwXcBETXcV9AkUpewRrhjC3Wo6mdBcrA82oYa3qhvpFjlzwR2xhuGvYwuyHsxdKYBfN9XPtPx7wfMKq-Nmkqiv3EbSz/s400/IMG_4456.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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Our emotional reunion. Okay, honestly, she just kind of stood there.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0mjyy_rEuMvarmeS-7s-jK6qIC3-Xlj1AyunTBt0p_yyC2SlO_x-14sZuq85TyxGaekBcaafrLkAU3z-QfK4uLlQlNXdmXSqBJUjLfpykLgDVpu2X0q4c6RKpgOurdzgfhYVO6Q67-inC/s1600/IMG_4526.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0mjyy_rEuMvarmeS-7s-jK6qIC3-Xlj1AyunTBt0p_yyC2SlO_x-14sZuq85TyxGaekBcaafrLkAU3z-QfK4uLlQlNXdmXSqBJUjLfpykLgDVpu2X0q4c6RKpgOurdzgfhYVO6Q67-inC/s400/IMG_4526.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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Anna: The photographer becomes the subject</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhii6u793dHHSQb1x9Vi4ZsRPYsTZmg2d09rag8UvxHVHSNZLzyqO4cLiQdVyYmirT89y05i6bECwPlufEElvPCcWBMtmglpMSFaeqphn3mZVYsK7P7DuHpnbdPvLwdpbs4HMKmKBNcznLp/s1600/IMG_4628.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhii6u793dHHSQb1x9Vi4ZsRPYsTZmg2d09rag8UvxHVHSNZLzyqO4cLiQdVyYmirT89y05i6bECwPlufEElvPCcWBMtmglpMSFaeqphn3mZVYsK7P7DuHpnbdPvLwdpbs4HMKmKBNcznLp/s400/IMG_4628.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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Expert mahout right here</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_keaYHaBFgIK5-pmbzAR7jNR72azhaUHPxiLP-qHh4VB1HgM_Z6qkSmfAGGnhZOW1067G9Fs4cKIj9HiaO_6lvse-g4bxLGeUqQCzfOs-ikq1RxIu3oeKH3nVu8AyRQm-anfpil6Ix8Jh/s1600/IMG_4734.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_keaYHaBFgIK5-pmbzAR7jNR72azhaUHPxiLP-qHh4VB1HgM_Z6qkSmfAGGnhZOW1067G9Fs4cKIj9HiaO_6lvse-g4bxLGeUqQCzfOs-ikq1RxIu3oeKH3nVu8AyRQm-anfpil6Ix8Jh/s400/IMG_4734.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
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Too unbelievably cute</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUWB5-_pVy7zo_bm3GYecYnKeHS_-m3cjhSzEmUHRyH9qxxQds3hlvc3dgxMtvwLusYOVeY6piNup8h7ZQgKKFdTeA-fosxZHyi_mqv3BTc9y6ORtcreTicd12rRYh4HSfya_XLoT3Mzrb/s1600/IMG_4750.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUWB5-_pVy7zo_bm3GYecYnKeHS_-m3cjhSzEmUHRyH9qxxQds3hlvc3dgxMtvwLusYOVeY6piNup8h7ZQgKKFdTeA-fosxZHyi_mqv3BTc9y6ORtcreTicd12rRYh4HSfya_XLoT3Mzrb/s400/IMG_4750.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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My pictures from last summer hanging on their wall!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTAthPOLm_p1ToyywpR5twolXsAjnuAMKpQkKxTthuvQi3DKjVcJVHsqLdmz2Hli8R-VEDnJ-E00CgEftpPqF42qGd5wBlulD9q28yG8uBP-hB501FKguC8u37z6h2kt1hxjkKG7fZYpbO/s1600/IMG_4778.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTAthPOLm_p1ToyywpR5twolXsAjnuAMKpQkKxTthuvQi3DKjVcJVHsqLdmz2Hli8R-VEDnJ-E00CgEftpPqF42qGd5wBlulD9q28yG8uBP-hB501FKguC8u37z6h2kt1hxjkKG7fZYpbO/s400/IMG_4778.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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Back in the confusing maze that is the Chatuchak market</div>
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<!--EndFragment-->Christine Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13699178365079676321noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1902659850379211870.post-44130952360080968142013-06-01T10:40:00.000-07:002013-06-01T10:40:20.926-07:00Kyoto: Hurry up or you'll miss all the peaceful spots. Kyoto has an absurd number of beautiful sights to see. Really, it's not fair to other cities. Also, I believe I saw all of these beautiful sights when I was there. Such was the scope of our sightseeing, that I'm fairly certain I've seen temples that have not even been built yet. I started referring to them by identifying a unique characteristic that would set them apart from the rest. For example, "No, the fourth temple was the one with the deer wandering around outside, and the fifth one was the one with the squeaky floors."<br />
The simplicity of the architecture and beauty of the Japanese gardens remind you to walk a little more slowly. The artifacts remind you that you are standing among national treasures, treasures that symbolize generations of Japanese culture and revered heritage. And the noisy school groups remind you to be thankful that you aren't thirteen anymore.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI8S0DVzbUmCLlGva5z1sHBqPqErDvwYvCSW1ShCUSbfiwWwgplr13GB-jMXNcKWLZ9qmCElBR8UUcVdjc8Zm2_IhdpQ-ZLs5-Vdpi0IY2ORd7EewTtI-tG_HEg5vYau93-oPl00nHJaDb/s1600/IMG_4115.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI8S0DVzbUmCLlGva5z1sHBqPqErDvwYvCSW1ShCUSbfiwWwgplr13GB-jMXNcKWLZ9qmCElBR8UUcVdjc8Zm2_IhdpQ-ZLs5-Vdpi0IY2ORd7EewTtI-tG_HEg5vYau93-oPl00nHJaDb/s400/IMG_4115.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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Not quite as peaceful as was intended</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJbdqA5RH_tFd-CLsHY1RRGzn9kxQqALWQIGW6tAmjpErkD1aEPilTIRAMhDEThm5bjchKS7mV4z2hs_3IYhyphenhyphenOzaYYWJ1ls9lpXRRB1TgcmEoHfu3kRCoBPMo7gFCiPItjjupuAIkMQPXd/s1600/IMG_4220.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJbdqA5RH_tFd-CLsHY1RRGzn9kxQqALWQIGW6tAmjpErkD1aEPilTIRAMhDEThm5bjchKS7mV4z2hs_3IYhyphenhyphenOzaYYWJ1ls9lpXRRB1TgcmEoHfu3kRCoBPMo7gFCiPItjjupuAIkMQPXd/s400/IMG_4220.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
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Fortunes</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOK8qWF570tsNQqLFE09gYspMNbbPaDebaCDRqWWjODFCOh474YQSSXT801UPciLHvtEBCEls0trVLq3_ubCPd_-1mMeTGuRCcorFwNQjiThTMxDQuL9u3wxTv762YoWSjX6p1qlQrd8Rp/s1600/IMG_4251.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOK8qWF570tsNQqLFE09gYspMNbbPaDebaCDRqWWjODFCOh474YQSSXT801UPciLHvtEBCEls0trVLq3_ubCPd_-1mMeTGuRCcorFwNQjiThTMxDQuL9u3wxTv762YoWSjX6p1qlQrd8Rp/s400/IMG_4251.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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This is one of the most famous temples. Of course, that means that it was under scaffolding, but luckily, this coin showed us what we should have been looking at. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaUvidG97i4yGcc43ZtBiA3SnmeFT43cBTs27Ybnm0Tyt6Q8tIkC6djR_bIk73k96kp9HQ9U1Llrg2pvk0D71rY3SrRxX2yL0U-TK-xgj7DgVI66eIVUckG2LnY0yCAkf-frs_u6N3umWk/s1600/IMG_4262.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaUvidG97i4yGcc43ZtBiA3SnmeFT43cBTs27Ybnm0Tyt6Q8tIkC6djR_bIk73k96kp9HQ9U1Llrg2pvk0D71rY3SrRxX2yL0U-TK-xgj7DgVI66eIVUckG2LnY0yCAkf-frs_u6N3umWk/s400/IMG_4262.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8MpwC3baAWKqe4ZCk0pKXWKagSlLgIX552U31-XVSFBmj1fSqqUe7RI_7gmWN7iH-bNfOTYrbUNprEfbgK6T88E9U6hqQMNvIXlujfJH0O4FGy-1LuN5mVYgCeWjyic5600QTuQGsI36E/s1600/IMG_4278.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8MpwC3baAWKqe4ZCk0pKXWKagSlLgIX552U31-XVSFBmj1fSqqUe7RI_7gmWN7iH-bNfOTYrbUNprEfbgK6T88E9U6hqQMNvIXlujfJH0O4FGy-1LuN5mVYgCeWjyic5600QTuQGsI36E/s400/IMG_4278.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
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Japanese garden</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh03Y2Ex8IF56emMxZMTg40GjAFvs8Hk6ZUyhFZ3s6D5aoSa7LPqb9cbpleGAF98-48XlXID1mHWAzYkeFvS5cp-BTty0BBX6K6Q5o5T5bApmbBNB0kYsbA514YSu9X8yJcvlCvEoI4wW3h/s1600/IMG_4328.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh03Y2Ex8IF56emMxZMTg40GjAFvs8Hk6ZUyhFZ3s6D5aoSa7LPqb9cbpleGAF98-48XlXID1mHWAzYkeFvS5cp-BTty0BBX6K6Q5o5T5bApmbBNB0kYsbA514YSu9X8yJcvlCvEoI4wW3h/s400/IMG_4328.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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Calligraphy </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMsiZev2Cljy1nGQtMdLooK4U7ervghOYXhGtEO9paUDDwhT7C3vFAYtJvkauIbhmoUPv-m6oR7el_EPynKp15KaffJoLtqtYcAUTx_I6S6Dd3OtwQNR8VTL0Rww2nHnATvFnFAKCyt5S0/s1600/IMG_4428.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMsiZev2Cljy1nGQtMdLooK4U7ervghOYXhGtEO9paUDDwhT7C3vFAYtJvkauIbhmoUPv-m6oR7el_EPynKp15KaffJoLtqtYcAUTx_I6S6Dd3OtwQNR8VTL0Rww2nHnATvFnFAKCyt5S0/s400/IMG_4428.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
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Beautiful stereotype</div>
<br />Christine Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13699178365079676321noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1902659850379211870.post-3849587994665710522013-05-18T10:11:00.001-07:002013-05-18T10:11:10.955-07:00The Many Faces of Tokyo Sightseeing in Tokyo could be quite a job. Luckily, I am related to Tokyo natives who know all the must-see spots, although considering the size of Tokyo, there are enough must-see spots to fill a dozen mid-sized capitals. We had to cut down our itinerary a bit, and by a bit, I mean that we still managed to sight-see for twelves hours per day.<br />
The pictures below show one of the fish markets in town. It is a cramped, bustling sea of people, and it brings the word "sardines" to mind in more than one way. Since Japan is an island country, the seafood is top-notch. Miniature restaurants along the the edge of the market were selling dishes so fresh, that they were swimming only moments before.<br />
It was only a short stop in between seeing the imperial palace, the high-end shopping district, one of many malls, another famous fashion street, and beautiful cherry blossoms. If I had to navigate it by myself, I would have stepped outside my hotel, taken one look at the train map, and sat down for a day-long coffee break. And Tokyo, with its multitude of Starbucks, would have welcomed that too.<br />
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<br />Christine Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13699178365079676321noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1902659850379211870.post-78081928181329989742013-05-07T23:57:00.000-07:002013-05-08T00:21:34.770-07:00Photo Preview<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"> With a sister who is a professional photographer, I know very well to waste little time in transferring photos to a computer. I've heard too many stories of lost photographs to take this lightly, and yet, I forgot to do this after my three week vacation with my family. Today, I could not find an SD card, one which had almost 800 pictures on it. You can imagine my panic, but luckily, the third time I checked my side table drawer, it miraculously appeared. Apparently, I put items away in fairly logical places more often than I realize. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"> So, although I am feeling a little nauseated after ripping my room apart like a maniac and tearing around in the heat, I am still excited to tell you about the events of the last few weeks. I'm just going to do it while taking deep breaths and sitting under an air conditioner. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"> It's not feasible for me to explain the events since April 10th in one post. Instead, I will look back through my photos and post stories a little at a time. The pictures below are just a sample of the beautiful sites of Japan, Thailand, and Laos, but even they don't do these countries justice. </span><br />
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Cherry Blossom Season in Japan</div>
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My entire family experiencing the elephants in Thailand!</div>
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The Nam Lik River in Laos</div>
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The morning market in Vientiane</div>
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Children from a small village school</div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span>Christine Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13699178365079676321noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1902659850379211870.post-59327142991290401272013-04-09T11:01:00.002-07:002013-04-09T11:11:37.204-07:00More Starbucks Love, Completely Deserved I would like to direct your attention to a comment I made recently, a comment which was written sarcastically and without agenda. After driving to Thailand for coffee, I wrote, "<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">I'm wondering whether Starbucks will renew my gold card status for going to such lengths to reach their product."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"> It turns out that THEY WILL. Someone sent my last blog entry to Starbucks, and Customer Service responded, requesting that I contact them. After writing and introducing myself, they offered to issue a new gold card for me. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"> Just let that sink in for a minute. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"> When I received their email, I was about the same amount of giddy as when I found out that my sister was engaged. Congratulations, by the way, Anna. But a gold card! Who could have imagined?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"> It seems that Hong Kong has the closest Starbucks to me that will accept the cards, so perhaps Hong Kong has just moved up on the list of places I should visit in the near future. Perhaps I've stumbled across a new motive to travel the world: I could drink coffee from a Starbucks in every participating country. Someone must be willing to support me financially in this endeavor, right? I'm assuming that, from now on, I can casually throw these ideas out here on this blog, and people will actually take me up on it. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"> All of this will happen only if I can get someone to send this card overseas to me. If you do, I will give you a complimentary coffee. Or write to Starbucks and tell them about your good deed. They might give you one. It's apparently worth a shot. </span><br />
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Don't fret, my account is really there, ready for this gold card business again. </div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span>Christine Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13699178365079676321noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1902659850379211870.post-73304576474320039952013-04-06T10:42:00.004-07:002013-04-06T10:54:16.276-07:00Customer Loyalty At Its Finest<br />
After living in Lao PDR for a couple months, you become painfully aware of the difference between wants and needs. As it turns out, you need far less than you think you do.<br />
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<li>Do you need food? Yes. Do you need Chipotle? Apparently not. </li>
<li>Are you required to own clothes? Yes. Are you required to frequent a multi-level shopping complex in which to buy those clothes? As it turns out, not really. </li>
<li>Do you need coffee? Yes. Do you need Starbucks? Yes. </li>
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And this is how I found myself traveling to Thailand for a Mocha Frappuccino. <br />
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Now, there are darling coffee joints in Vientiane. Their coffee is delightful. They are within electric scooter-riding distance. However, Starbucks is not one of them, and neither is any other foreign chain restaurant. When you have been required by law to stay within the borders of Laos until paperwork has been properly stamped, and you've been waiting nearly two months, you begin to wonder what is offered on the other side of the fence. You may become antsy to taste something that tastes like home. This is where Thailand comes in.<br />
The Lao-Thai border is about a fifteen minute drive from Vientiane. Once passports are stamped and customs cleared, you have access to <i>shopping malls</i> on the other side. During the weeks leading up to the first trip there, Thailand became a kind of Mecca in my mind. Laos has everything needed to survive comfortably, but there were several things unaccounted for in my "want" category. Everything I couldn't find here, I was positive I would find there, in excess. Stackable shelves? I'll get those in Thailand! An over commercialized, squeaky clean, six story shopping mall bathed in fluorescent lights? I'll see that in Thailand! Better air quality? I'll find that in Thailand!<br />
Once there, everything seemed enormous. I have spent quite a bit of time in large cities, but for those couple of hours, I felt as though Udon Thani, Thailand was as cosmopolitan as it gets. That's what happens after you live in a city where this is a perfectly normal, and completely real, conversation to have in one of the main international supermarkets. </div>
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Me: Excuse me, do you have any more milk in the back?<br />
Owner: We will probably get more this afternoon.<br />
Me: Ok! Thank you! </div>
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This is why we took not one, but two trips to Thailand in less than a week. During the first trip, my Dunkin' Donuts coffee spilled in my lap in the back of someone else's car after taking only a couple of sips. Needless to say, it was a low point for me, and probably for the owner of the car as well. Luckily for him, maxi dresses are quite absorbent.<br />
For me, the second trip was focused less on buying things to bring back to Laos than buying something at Starbucks. This time, I was determined to drink it instead of wear it. And let me tell you, it was worth every sweltering minute at the border crossing. I'm wondering whether Starbucks will renew my gold card status for going to such lengths to reach their product. I recommend that they create a special discount for people who need to use passports, fill out arrival and departure forms for two countries, and switch to driving on the other side of the road for a couple of hours, all in order to say the phrase, "I'll have a Grande Mocha Frappuccino please."<br />
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So beautiful. Not my photography skills, but the content of the photo.</div>
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Christine Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13699178365079676321noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1902659850379211870.post-70777091726710525202013-03-14T03:40:00.000-07:002013-03-14T03:40:59.639-07:00Pha That Luang<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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When I pictured my visit to Pha That Luang, I pictured a bustling complex filled with tourists and monks. I imagined little available parking. I thought I'd wait in line to pay my admission. Instead, to protect against the dust that was being whipped around by the wind, I covered my face as I walked across an empty lot toward the temple. Vendors driving tuk-tuks called out for me to buy ice cream at the gates. Unfortunately, I don't think they made very much profit that afternoon. </div>
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As I completed my quiet loop around Pha That Luang, I tried, with difficulty, to imagine the festivals that cause thousands of Lao Buddhists to flock to the temple. I stopped occasionally to stand underneath sprinklers attempting to keep the gardens from wilting in the heat, and I captured a picture of a lone monk. Soon after, he called out to other monks I could not see, making me wonder what else was going on around me that I was too unobservant or culturally ignorant to notice. </div>
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I slipped off my flip-flops at the door of a smaller temple in the complex. I peered in the door, sure that I was welcome to walk inside, but hesitant in the absence of other tourists. I was greeted by a tinny medley of Christmas tunes, most notably, "Santa Claus is Coming to Town," and I wondered which novice monk was put in charge of that playlist. </div>
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You can find this collision of cultures in many large, Southeast Asian cities. However, you would struggle to find another one that matches the slow pace with which Vientiane should be discovered. Here is a city that invites you to explore nearly empty temples, but not too quickly, and not without an ice cream in your hand.</div>
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Pha That Luang</div>
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Lone flip-flops</div>
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Lone monk</div>
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"You better watch out. You better not cry. You better not pout. I'm telling you why..."</div>
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Christine Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13699178365079676321noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1902659850379211870.post-7779412119617199662013-03-09T07:28:00.000-08:002013-03-09T07:28:28.238-08:00Weeks in Review
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March 9, 2013</div>
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My dear students,<o:p></o:p></div>
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I must apologize for the lack of updates. To keep you from
worrying, I will give you a list of terrible things that have not happened to
me during the time that has passed.</div>
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<ol>
<li>I did not get trampled by an elephant.</li>
<li>I did not get sick from drinking too much coffee.</li>
<li>I did not forget about you.</li>
<li>I did not take a boat ride down the Mekong River, lose
control, and end up floating into the South China Sea.</li>
<li>I did not forget how to turn on my computer.</li>
<li>I did not get locked inside a temple.</li>
<li>I did not fall asleep on any public transportation.</li>
<li>I did not get lost during a trek in the Lao jungle.</li>
<li>I did not lose my passport.</li>
<li>I did not move to Thailand and forget to tell you.</li>
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Now that you know what unfortunate things I avoided, I
suppose I should tell you what I have actually been up to.</div>
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<ol>
<li>I climbed Patuxay, one of the most famous monuments in
Laos. When I say that I “climbed” it, you may picture me whipping out ropes and
a harness and scaling the side, but there were handy stairs already in place to
do the hard work for me. As I climbed (the stairs) higher, I discovered t-shirts, postcards,
and other Lao souvenirs for sale in the “cool” shade inside the concrete
structure. I believe it’s no coincidence that the spiral staircase leading to the
miniature room at the very top of Patuxay is located conveniently inside one of
the shops. So, after taking in the view of Vientiane from above, I bought some
things. They sure know how to reel me in.</li>
<li>I received another official stamp in my passport,
saying that I can, in fact, be in the country. It’s comforting to know this.</li>
<li>I talked to teachers at an English school and scheduled
days when I will cover a few classes! There may be more teaching opportunities
for me there as time goes on, and I am very excited to be in a classroom again.
If you think I moved to the other side of the globe to escape children, think
again. You guys just seem to find me wherever I go.</li>
<li>I also started conducting some private tutoring
lessons. Non-native English speakers are eager to practice pronunciation and
conversation, and as you know, I have no trouble carrying on long discussions. It’s a perfect fit.</li>
<li>Here is a groundbreaking turn of events: I drank quite
a few coffees since the last time you heard from me.</li>
<li>Some of my new friends are letting me borrow an electric scooter, so I took it out for a few test drives this past week. It turns out
that I am a decent scooter-driver. It also turns out that I am an excellent
scooter-pusher, because it turns out that the scooter needs new batteries.
Details.</li>
<li>I affectionately named one of the stray dogs in the
neighborhood Stan. I later found out that Stan’s a girl.</li>
<li>I delightfully took a walk along the river in misty,
70-degree weather while natives pulled on sweaters and jackets.</li>
<li>I saw two signs that read, “Over than 30 years of service,” and “One of the best pizzas you may ever had.” Fix these sentences.</li>
<li>I bought hangers.</li>
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Some of these things may not
sound thrilling. In fact, losing control of a boat in the Mekong would surely
have resulted in better storytelling than buying hangers. However, I think it’s
important that you know that living in another country does not provide
non-stop exploration and adventure. I still have an alarm clock. (Whether it is
effective or not is irrelevant.) I still have to buy groceries. I still use a
weekly planner and fill out paperwork. I’m just doing it in a place where I don’t
have to shovel snow, and I'm okay with that.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Love,</div>
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Miss Ross</div>
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Patuxay (Pah-too-sigh)</div>
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Looking down Lane Xang at the Presidential Palace </div>
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Lane Xang and Vientiane </div>
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Beautiful Patuxay at night </div>
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Downtown Vientiane </div>
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A temple across from the Mekong River</div>
<!--EndFragment-->Christine Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13699178365079676321noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1902659850379211870.post-27731292403711683512013-02-23T08:36:00.000-08:002013-02-23T08:38:21.237-08:00Buddha Park Today, I visited the Buddha Park just outside Vientiane. It is a large, grassy area along the Mekong River, filled with statues that seem to have been dropped there accidently. There appears to be no rhyme or reason to their arrangement, since they create a kind of maze without a destination, but each statue is unique. You're drawn through the park, almost simply because you can't imagine what else they could have possibly carved and placed there. <br />
The most interesting structure is three stories tall and shaped like a ball, one with little windows carved in the side and precarious stairways inside. If balance is not your forte and hights are not your friend, do not attempt to climb to the top. Once you emerge, crawling, through the small opening at the top, the new perspective is worth the climb.<br />
As I made my way back to land, a group of monks arrived to tour the park. Monks are highly regarded members of Lao society, and they are easy to spot around town in their orange robes. Foreigners often need to be reminded to respect their routines, and pictures are discouraged. I snapped a few from a distance, but I did not approach them or interrupt their wanderings.<br />
But here's where things became strange. As I was resting on a bench in the shade, the monks started taking pictures of <i>me</i>. While I tried to be subtle with my camera, they stood in a group, talking loudly, and snapping pictures in my direction. Not every day does a monk take a picture of you.<br />
Now, granted, I had a baby on my lap. That's really what they were taking a picture of, and had I set the baby down and removed myself from the frame, they probably would have been happier. Still, somewhere in a temple in Laos, I am immortalized on some monks' SD cards. That is, until they realize it was silly to take a picture of a hot, tired foreigner and wisely decide to delete it.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4H1dQLQT9LUfSlLluBjGi3T1idI2xaIx-3D71a2cE3Xc00hx8rtOh5BNTmcZOs1yALSAxQbs6I90rkvUAzaUPkh0egUR-OqYvhX3R06Tw-JUz_9gNyA4JIHUsGbdib_nYnPBqIMcSXgE7/s1600/IMG_3653.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4H1dQLQT9LUfSlLluBjGi3T1idI2xaIx-3D71a2cE3Xc00hx8rtOh5BNTmcZOs1yALSAxQbs6I90rkvUAzaUPkh0egUR-OqYvhX3R06Tw-JUz_9gNyA4JIHUsGbdib_nYnPBqIMcSXgE7/s400/IMG_3653.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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The encouraging entrance</div>
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The outer, well-lit hallway</div>
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Having their picture taken </div>
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A sea of statues</div>
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Buddha Park</div>
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<br />Christine Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13699178365079676321noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1902659850379211870.post-33486489392000068402013-02-17T18:21:00.000-08:002013-02-18T06:55:30.097-08:00Weather ForecastI have stopped complaining about the weather here. This has happened for two reasons.<br />
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<ol>
<li>I start to think about people in the Midwest who are engaging in one of my least favorite activities, scraping ice off car windshields. </li>
<li>This is the conversation that follows whenever I do complain.</li>
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<li>Me: It sure is hot here!</li>
<li>Wise local who has been here far longer than me and is well aware that it is about to get much worse: Ha!</li>
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From the way they talk about the approaching heat, I'm starting to wonder if I would welcome ice-scraping in its place, a thought that suggests my brain has already been addled. I've started to prepare now. Since it was a cool 95 degrees yesterday, I wore a sweater, even while I walked around outside. I tell myself that it will feel refreshing when I stop wearing sweaters during the hot season. My logic here is unshakable. Don't question it. </div>
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The hot season is not the only legendary phenomenon here. People have been trying to prepare me for the rainy season as well. From what they tell me, the type of hourly precipitation I am imagining can only be accurately compared to Niagara Falls. It appears that it makes no difference that Laos is a landlocked country. According to my predictions, there will be enough water to swim in the streets. I hope the Niagara Falls tour guides are here to hand out ponchos.</div>
Christine Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13699178365079676321noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1902659850379211870.post-70602980438841364062013-02-07T06:38:00.000-08:002013-02-07T07:57:09.585-08:00Pity Party Postponed I think some people worried when I mentioned I was moving to Laos. Let me drive that worry away once and for all, or momentarily, depending on how prone you are to anxiety. I'd like to debunk the idea that I may be washing my clothes in the Mekong River or bartering for food.<br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.0078125);"> I woke up this morning and ate a chocolate croissant. Then I read through underlined, beloved segments of my favorite book, <i>Nomad's Hotel</i>. It is the only book I have ever marked up with a pencil. I bought it at my favorite book store in New York City, and it is the sole book that has made the cut each and every time I've gone somewhere for an extended period of time. It has traveled in my suitcase to the Czech Republic, Scotland, Italy, and now Laos. In it, I find old postcards, playbills and ticket stubs that bring me back to Venice or Prague when they were used as bookmarks. Every time I read it, a different thought speaks to me depending on where I am at the time or what has happened in my life since the last time I read it. When the pencil marks start to wear off, I read through and darken them again. It provides a connecting link between my destinations. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.0078125);"> After reading and pondering over literature, I got an hour long foot massage for six dollars. Then I drank a banana frappe. And that's Thursday. </span></div>
Christine Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13699178365079676321noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1902659850379211870.post-62583798713462308952013-02-06T09:07:00.003-08:002013-02-06T09:07:19.885-08:00Communication: Made Possible By Skype Sometimes I marvel at my good fortune. Today, I found my way around my new city, only getting lost a time or two, and then only for a couple of minutes. I learned a couple new words in Lao. I drank coffee. Then, when it seemed that the only thing that could perfectly top off the day would be to fall asleep, I talked to a roomful of about 70 second graders in Indiana.<br />
I thought about complaining that the internet connection was poor, meaning that we typed most of our questions and answers to one another instead of seeing faces. Then I remembered that until only recently, a journey such as mine was truly isolating. The very thought of instantaneous communication between one person going through a bedtime ritual with another person, one who is finishing up a morning routine at that exact time, was unthinkable. I occasionally mention that it would be liberating to untie myself from technology, but then my decisions to move around the globe would be much more difficult to justify.<br />
We discussed food, transportation, and the shocking lack of video games in my life. I talked about how much rice I now consume, and I confessed to eating ice cream quite frequently, okay daily, to cope with the heat. Also, because it's delicious, and I'm supporting the economy.<br />
What is more important than these topics, and what I hope my students will learn, is the fact that there was any communication at all. I don't only mean communication between a teacher and her students who happen to miss each other, but between people who are living differently. How can I expect everyone to value what is unknown and strange to them unless I tell them how rewarding it is to feel a little displaced sometimes? The benefits of throwing yourself into a different way of life far outweigh the time it takes to feel normal again. I fear the people who assume that their way of life is the only way of life.<br />
It was comforting to hear their voices, even for a few moments. I was so thankful that they had so many questions, because it meant that they are trying to understand. They are trying to imagine life in a context other than what is familar to them. To hear curiosity buzzing around them gave me hope that people will continue to communicate across borders. And when there is ice cream on both sides, I don't really see why there would be any holdup.<br />
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<br />Christine Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13699178365079676321noreply@blogger.com1