They kept offering me one. I don't know how I had the willpower to say no.

New and Improved!

As time goes on and I get used to this crazy life, finding things to blog about is harder and harder. My average day is actually incredibly boring and uneventful. But, this blog is the only way I communicate with some people. If I do not write about what I am doing, some of you fine folks have no idea what is going on with me. I would like to think surely that means people are staying up at night wondering, but I know better.

Regardless, it is my goal to start writing a little more. In addition, I have decided to steal the idea of a brilliant fellow PCV and start a "Photo of the Day". The photos will be anything that catches my fancy in that moment. Due to Internet availability and such, my goal is to post a picture at least every other day. So even if I have not posted a story or update recently, you can check to see some picture of what I have been up to.

Today, a picture of the Bole area in Addis Ababa. It is like no other area of Addis; you can get a cupcake and go to the movies- enough said. This is standing in an Orthodox church looking at the magical Edna Mall.

My first American visitor!

It was not until the holidays rolled around that I realized, at 24 years old, I would be spending my first holiday season away from home. While it was difficult to spend holidays that fill me with memories of loved ones 9,000 miles away, it turned into a fantastic experience. Most of this enthusiasm is due to the fact that I had my first visitor come to Ethiopia, Eric Elliott. My boyfriend of 7+ years was an amazingly great sport through it all. I tried to ease him into the Ethiopian experience a bit. We stayed in the capital city of Addis Ababa for a day and a half, and then ventured to a resort in a town called Nazret for poolside fun. Finally he was exposed to the way real Ethiopians live as we spent four days, including Christmas, in my town of Asella.

The first day of our adventure together, we explored Addis Ababa. While this town is a haven for me due to the amazing food and hot showers, Eric described it has breathing in cancer. Environmentalists have yet to make it out this way apparently. We had breakfast at an adorable cupcake shop (remember, I tried to ease him) that makes me feel as though I was at Cup Cake Bites in North Carolina! Here is Eric’s first meal in Ethiopia: some of the best French toast in the world.

Yep, that dope is the guy I've been missing...

From there, we went to the National Museum where bones and replicas of bones, found in the Afar region of Ethiopia, are displayed. If you are interested in anthropology, hopefully the Afar region sounds familiar. It is basically where the oldest and most precious anthropological remains have been found. Lucy was found in the Afar region, which is considered one of the greatest finds ever. She, or her replica- I like to think it is her- are on display at the National Museum. Afterwards, we went to an art gallery and finally to the Red Terror Museum. The museum is all about the dictatorship that was in power decades ago. The best was I can describe it would be like going to a Holocaust museum in the States.  Fascinating and powerful, but definitely not an upper.  Through all this travel, I manage to only get us lost once. I was quite proud of myself.

To pick up the mood, we went to a Mexican food place. This was entirely for me. A guy coming from Southern California to Ethiopia does not need or care about Mexican food, but I do. But at that magical place is where Eric learned one of the greatest things about Ethiopia: all soda is served in glass bottles and usually cold. It may have been the highlight of his trip…

The rest of the night was filled with beer and jazz. We went to a German Beer House where they brew their own beer on site. It is by far the best beer in country. If you are debating coming to visit, allow me to entice you with some pictures of what we can accomplish.

 

The following day we went to a town that is about halfway between Addis and Asella called Nazret. There is a great resort/hotel there called Safari lodge and we, along with four site mates, spent two and a half days there. It was a perfectly relaxing time filled with games, swimming, reading, and eating. There was a special moment when we created a game that consisted of trying to hit a ball in the pool with a Frisbee. Sadly, Eric was not paying attention to what the winner’s reward was and managed to be the victor. Per Stanley Cup style rewards, he was treated to two beers, which were poured into the Frisbee. We probably should have made sure all the chlorine water was out first. Although, it was probably the cleanest, safest water he could drink in country...

 

   After a relaxing few days in Nazret, we headed to Asella. I was able to show off my home and the life I have made for myself here to Eric. The following day was Christmas and for lunch I took him to one of my favorite places to eat Ethiopian food and he had his first real experience with the food here (it took four days, oppps) We ordered a vegetarian dish called tagabeano served with injerra and bread. Eric assessed the food perfectly in saying, “It is like I am eating a mouthful of mush. There is no texture. I should not like this. But the flavor is so good, I cannot stop.” 

Keep in mind that Ethiopian food does not photograph well.

For Christmas dinner, we went to my site mates’ house and feasted on chicken, stuffing and eggplant Parmesan. If I could go back in time, I would eat that meal over and over. Eric was able to experience his first “gorsha” in spectacular fashion.

Afterwards, we went to a local grocery and explained the true meaning of American Christmas. Interpret that however you want! It was a great night that ended in watching Ethiopians have a dance fight. This place never ceases to amazing.

 From there, Eric saw my school and was able to meet many teachers through a club I run. We all sat around a table and wrote questions on pieces of paper. The Ethiopian teachers would ask us questions about American and we would ask them questions about Ethiopia. It was a great exchange that I feel was probably the best way to get a feel for what this country and its people are like. Our last day in Asella, we went on a hike to see the Rift Valley. It is a pretty important place and the nerd in Eric loved it. It also happened to be one of the most expansive, gorgeous views I have ever seen complete with Lake Zewhy (I just threw some letter together because I have no idea how to spell it).

One the way back, we saw countless monkey. The ones just a few meters from us were the little trouble making type. I do not know breeds so allow me to make monkey stereotypes: they are unruly and seem like they would steal is given a chance. I believe Ross Gehler and Indiana Jones had this type of monkey. Across the way, maybe 75 meters from us, there were dozens of huge baboons. I feel confident they could have ripped my arms off wookie style. The biggest one took an intimidating interest in us. We would walk for a bit and then stop to watch them. This big guys was following us, stopping in turn, and never taking his eyes off us. I only felt safe because I am faster than Eric.  

Finally, we headed back to Addis and had a mellow night listening to live jazz once again at our hotel. It was a great time that sadly had to come to an end. Through it, I feel like I was really able to show off a lot of the country and made me realize I have a lot of pride (sometimes) in this crazy place. After having a few days to reflect on the visit, some things definitely popped into my mind.

• This country is a pretty amazing place. We went from eating french toast in a place that seems as American as apple pie, to using a hole in the ground for a potty. The country is so diverse and while in some cases that is a negative, it really makes me feel lucky to have been placed here.
• The day before I come home after 799 days living here, I am still not going to know what is going on most of the time. This is a common feeling and something you learned to live with. As a result, you sometimes feel like you have not changed or integrated into the culture. Being able to experience this place with someone for his or her first time really showed me how far I have come in just seven months. Things that are perfectly normal daily occurrence, Eric reminded me are complete unusual and as far from normal as possible.
• It is not the Peace Corps related work (i.e. schools or NGOs) that makes this experience worthwhile or bearable. It is exchanging culture with people you never normally would have known existed. It is about making friends and being content to spend the holidays in such good company while so far from your American family.

So to summarize, come visit!!!!

Burn After Reading

As some of you may know, I have a rambely train of thought. So allow me to walk you through how I came to the conclusion that Peace Corps deserves the same type of treatment as a violent club. I have a buddy here in Ethiopia named Tyler. Every time I see Tyler, I think Tyler Durdan. Every time I think Tyler Durdan, I think of the Fight Club rules. Every time of think of the Fight Club rules, I think there should be similar Peace Corps rules. There you go: sane to Laura in four sentences.

As I was paying serious attention to Hour 6 of a full day Peace Corps training, I began jotting down what I thought would be appropriate rules for a Peace Corps Volunteer in Ethiopia. As stated before, PCVs tend to lose tact, so forgive me if you find any part of this a bit too strange. Such is life in Ethiopia…

1. The first rule of Peace Corps Ethiopia is: you do not talk about American food to someone unable to get American food.

2. The second rule of Peace Corps Ethiopia is: you do not talk about American food to someone unable to get American food.

3. Any talk of bowel movements is not only condoned, but recommended. Furthermore, if you go potty in your pants, you are required to send a mass text message to fellow PCVs as soon as possible. This is known as the “Own It” referendum. 

4. You DO judge and wonder about any foreigners, which are non-PCV, you see in your town. It is always proper to assume they are temporary, clean, and normal; thus making them an enemy.

5. You DO take the gorsha… always.

6. You DO NOT look twice at an adult picking their nose (elbow deep) in a professional setting or during a meeting.

7. You DO take the side of your fellow PCV and never the local children. The children are wrong and the PCV is right, in every case. Even when it is untrue.

8. You DO NOT judge the pure gluttony created in a PCV when he or she is opening a care package. Likewise, you do not judge the level of aggression shown on the walk from the post office to home. PCVs should be willing to sacrifice him or herself for a package of goodies from home.

9. You DO NOT acknowledge how long a fellow PCV has been wearing the exact same articles of clothing. Also, you give him or her the benefit of the doubt and assume undies are being changed out.

10. You DO NOT judge a PCV for the duration of time in between showers.

You will never be as free as you are here. Seriously, who wants to join!?!

Hiking Lake Wenchi, Ambo, Ethiopia

Three Months after swearing-in, there is a training called IST (it cleverly stands for In-Service Training). My group's IST took place in Ambo. It is a big-ish town about 2 hours outside of Addis and 5 hours away from Asella. The trainings were good and it was great to see people I had not seen it months. The highlight (aside from Mexican food I consumed) was a 6-hour hike around Lake Wenchi. It is one of only two crater lakes in Africa!!! I don't know what that means, but it sounds really impressive. As you can see from the pictures, we all started off happy, excited and optimist. Six hours later, I would not quite describe ourselves that way. The last hour was straight uphill and after hours in the sun and being dehydrated, it was rough to say the least. Fortunately, my camera battery died before that, so there is no evidence of the misery. Overall, the hike took us through one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen. If you like what you see, come visit!! (we can take a horse during the uphill parts)

Ethiopian Wildlife

When you think Africa, you think safaris. You think of wild animals, normally just seen at the zoo, roaming free. Ethiopia does not have exciting animals like that. You will not find lions, zebras or elephants here. But there are still come neat animals to see. There is the Ethiopian wolf, the most endangered canine in the world. And we also have the duck-billed donkey. If you have never heard of this animal, do not be embarrassed, it is incredibly rare. On a hike last week, I was lucky enough to spot one. Here you go, you're looking at one of the most endangered animals in the world. Save the duck-billed donkey!!

Ethiopian Health Care

One thing never mentioned on any Peace Corps pamphlet is the complete loss of tact and etiquette most volunteers face during their service. While you know your mother raised you better than to talk about such rude or crude things, it all falls by the wayside when you get together with fellow PCVs. Who has gone potty in his or her pants since we last talked? How much do you love your chamber pot (need a team name for a paper football tournament, how about “Chamber Pants”)? What is the most inappropriate thing that you have been told? These are the common topics of discussion used to keep PCVs sane during times that should truly cause breaking points/insanity.

I preface this blog with that warning. What follows is my experience getting medical treatment here in Ethiopia . Some of it may be strange or down right awkward. It is a bit crude, but hopefully the ridiculous of the situation outweighs it all. If you feel it crosses a line, stop reading. Or better yet, feel happy that you just get to read about it, not live it.  Ultimately, the overall point of my having this blog is to share about being a PCV and this is the effect living in Ethiopia has on volunteers. Our perspectives of what is appropriate and what is not are flexible to get us through certain situations and experiences that might otherwise be unbearable…

About a month ago, I got sick. I had been fighting an upper respiratory infection for about 3 weeks. While I thought it was a battle I was winning, the sickness came back. With reinforcements. Armed to cause mayhem in my body. The Peace Corps doctor was coincidently in my town so I paid the man a visit. After telling him I had had a pretty serious cough for over three weeks and describing my symptoms, he decided to prescribe me some medicine. He told me to come back the next day; while he would not be there, he would have medicine there waiting for me. What service! I arrive the next day, feeling even worse, only to find the medicine to nurse me back to health was: Claritin. Not exactly what I expected. Not exactly helpful. I decided to be a trooper and trust that the doctor knows more about medicine than me. Oh how I should have known that was a mistake- this all only adds to my arrogance! I took it for three days but there was no relief and I was beginning to feel the worst I have ever felt in my life. Three days after getting the Claritin, I called and said I need to go to the nearby clinic to get checked out.

One thing I should interject here is that my town, Asella, is one of the training towns for the new group of volunteers in country. Not only does that mean there are 12 new, fresh-faced Americans in my town, most of the Peace Corps staff is there daily. This has its advantages and disadvantage. One this day, it was full of advantages.

At 12:30 in the afternoon, a Peace Corps driver, Almaz (motherly woman in charger of taking care of the newbies) and a lovely finance woman came to my door to take me in a private car to the hospital. Words cannot describe how amazing it was to have a private car. It was the first time in months I had been in a car without 20+ Ethiopians smashed in with me. They took me to Asella hospital, only to find it was closed for lunch. I asked Almaz, “What happens if there is an emergency?” She responded, “They wait”. This was a public hospital so the three Ethiopians decided to take me to a private hospital so I could get treatment instead of waiting for an hour and a half to be seen.
Once at the private hospital, we found it was the same: lunch break!

The car dropped me off at my house and promised to be back at 2:00 to take me back to the private hospital. After all the running around (and by that I mean sitting in a car exhausted as people did work on my behalf) I was beat so I took a nice nap confident that in a few short hours, I would be on the road to recovery.

At 2:00, the three lovely people returned and we went once more to the private hospital. Success! This time they were open. Since Almaz was there, she told them all my information in Amharic, negating any language barriers that might inhibit my speedy treatment. The finance lady took care of all the payments too. I never filled out a form, signed my named, or paid a bill. Not too shabby. A doctor assessed me and he ordered a chest x-ray, a blood sample, and such.

I went into the “lab” and they took my blood. It was a five- minute process to find my vein. I have never had an issue with that before; I generally have beefy veins (terrible word choice that I am pleased with!). It made me pretty nervous in the level of competency of the staff, but then I saw myself in a mirror and understood how dehydrated and sickly I was. Overall, they took my blood painlessly and efficiently- go Ethiopia.

After the blood was done, the “lab” technician handed me a small plastic cup and pointed me to the shint-bet. I was really happy about this. You see, I have had to give urine before, but I always get stage fright or do not have to go. This time was different. I had to pee pretty badly and it was my time to shine! I went to the shint-bet, fill that sucker to the brim and strutted back in to the “lab” with an air of confidence not often seen in an Ethiopian hospital. I put my pee sample of the counter, look towards the technician, and waited for him to look at me impressed. That is not quite how it happened. He looked at me, looked at the sample, slowly shook his head with a smirk, and handed me another small plastic cup.

It was the dreaded poop test. The moment you become a real volunteer. The moment you lose all sense of self. The moment you realize you would do anything, absolutely anything, to feel better. The moment that brings your aim (metaphorically) to focus. The moment you have to think about the logistics of pooping in a tiny cup. To say the least, things changed that day my friends, things changed.

While it was by no means as easy as the first test, I managed to succeed. I walked back into the “lab” with no air of confidence. No smug satisfaction in myself. Just a small plastic cup in hand wishing that every single person within sight was not staring at me.  Next up was the chest x-ray. We went to the room outside to get the test only to find that the only man who knew how to take an x-ray was away. Back home I went, assured that at 3:30 we would finally be able to complete this process and I could get a diagnosis and some medicine.

Another nap.

The Peace Corps staff returned as promised. This time, the driver and car had other people to haul around so Almaz and the finance lady caught a bajaj (a small, three-wheeled taxi) and picked me up at my house. Almaz and company apologized profusely that we had to take a bajaj and that I was clearly going to be so uncomfortable. Considering it is nearly impossible to get a bajaj by my house and these lovely ladies saved me from a 10 minute walk uphill that could have killed me, it was hard not to laugh at the idea they felt bad for the treatment I was getting that day.

Trip three to the hospital was a productive one! Sure enough, the x-ray man was there and there was a long line of people ahead of me. I do not speak Amharic well so I will never know what Almaz said, but suddenly, I was next in line. The x-ray man called out my name and I walked into the room. As I entered, I looked at the pervious patient and saw she was putting her shirt back on. It was this moment that I realized I was in for awkwardness. With the door wide open and dozens of people outside, the x-ray man told me to take the shirt off. I shut the door, which made him roll his eyes a bit. But I preferred to not give a show to what, in that moment, felt like half the town. I held my shirt up, as if I had any chance of modesty, as he got the machine ready. As this was happening, I had a bit of a coughing fit. If you even want to know how to look really good, start coughing, as if a lung is about to come up, topless. Pretty foxy! In that moment, I realized I would do pretty much anything to feel better. I would have stripped all the way down just for medicine. Life lesson #143 Pneumonia trumps morals ever time.

Once he was ready, the shirt was dropped and I decided this situation was so silly there was nothing to do but own it and laugh. It was truly ridiculous. I faced the wrong way and due to a lack of communication, he had to steer me (via shoulders) to where I should stand. Apparently, the girls were not in a great position so he, without warning and in a manner that was somehow professional, grabbed the girls, spread the apart and pushed me up again the machine. As I was about to turn around and be offended, he was behind the machine about to take the x-ray. Warning? Nope. Dignity? Nope. Lead vest to protect my baby making parts? Haha, nope!

Once it was done, I made a few jokes, knowing I was the only one to understand them. “I could use a cigarette after that”, “Will you call me?” and finally as the next patient walked in, “I thought I was special!”.  I walked to Almaz and asked if what I experienced (mainly to boob grabbing) was normal or was I just molested. Almaz, a grandmother like figure, responded, “Since they even treat someone who looks like me that way, you can believe it is nothing weird”. This just added to my laughter. And at this point, I was mere minutes away from a diagnosis and medicine. That was until we learned the x-ray reader was not there. We were assured he would be there at 6:00. Back home.

Another nap.

The Peace Corps car and crew came once again and took me to the hospital for the fourth time in one day. We all had a good laugh about it. The x-ray reader was there and told me I had pneumonia and wrote me a prescription. He also informed me I had bacteria infection in my stomach. At this, I just laughed. He looked at me strangely and repeated himself since I clearly must not have understood. I told him I understood perfectly. The pneumonia makes everything hurt and wrecked expect my digestive system, but the bacteria infection was taking care of that.  He grinned, as he finally understood why I was laughing.

The Peace Corps folks and I went to a pharmacy, got me medicine, and dropped me off at my home for the fourth and final time. Back home. Another nap.

Overall, there are two things that really stood out in the day (besides the overall humor and silliness of going there four times, mistaking a plastic cup’s meaning and getting more action that I have seen in months).

1. The Peace Corps staff is absolutely amazing. This all took place on a Friday. A lot of it after hours. While they said it was their job, they went above and beyond what was required. They treated me like a family member and got me the best care possible. When sick in a foreign country, it is so easy to feel isolated and depressed. Like no one within thousands of miles cares. But these three individuals showed me tenderness normally reserved for family and I will never be able to sing their praise enough.
2. I was carted back and forth throughout the day. I was able to cut every line and never waited more than 5 minutes for any service. For average Ethiopians, the process must be pure misery. While I was in a private car, they were stuck in uncomfortable seats. While I was napping between visits, they were stuck in uncomfortable seats. As I was getting treated, they were stuck in uncomfortable seats. The entire experience opened my eyes to yet another hardship Ethiopians face but somehow never complain about. It is that silent perseverance that makes me respect the people of this country even more.